How Far We've Come

Chapter Fifteen

"Tony, you're a terrible patient."

Tony guffawed. "It's all the doctorates. Doctors make the worst patients, you know."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Different type of doctor but I'm glad your ego is doing well. Can you just let me see it?"

They were sitting on the floor in what they could only assume was one of Nat's secret apartments. The apartment was the usual NYC loft but felt bigger since it was almost completely empty. There was a cot in the corner, a single set of utensils, a large mug, and a collection of items in the bathroom. That was it. Nothing else to prove someone lived there.

"I love having a front seat to your marital spats," Clint quipped as he riffled around in the kitchen cabinets. "Also, I found a can of soup. And it's veggie soup. No one should live this way."

"Well, we might be living this way for a bit, depending on the plan." Cap rubbed the back of his neck and ran a hand back and forth over his hair, trying to lessen the cowl-head as much as he could.

Tony saw the opening to change the topic and jumped on it. "Are you fixing your hair right now?"

Steve gasped and it was so authentic Tony had to laugh. "I am not!"

"Oh my God, Steve. You totally were."

Clint chuckled from the kitchen.

As much fun as flustering Steve was, Tony actually did need to get out of the suit and figure out how bad the damage was. Jarvis said the wound wasn't life threatening unless left untreated. And Steve was such a fucking Boy Scout he had first aid training.

Of course Captain America was a medic. Of fucking course.

The suit peeled back from Tony's body, revealing sweatpants and a ragged MIT sweatshirt.

Steve's fingers traced over every inch of Tony's body in a markedly non-sexual way. Below Tony's ribs, on his left side, was a large purple patch of bruising. At least none of his bones felt broken. Just bruises and the cut on his forehead. Steve was overreacting.

However, Tony had also bitten his tongue, but he could let Steve examine that later. In private. With a locked door.

"How's your head?"

Tony smiled coyly. "Full of dastardly ideas for how we can spend this time, practically alone..."

"Clint is here."

Clint piped up, "Yes, Clint is here."

Tony rolled his eyes as Steve settled in beside him. "You guys are no fun."

Before Steve could reply, the door rattled and all of them leapt to their feet.

"Guys, it's us," came Bruce's voice through the door.

Clint let Fury and Bruce in, checking the hall before clicking the assortment of deadbolts and locks. Seven or so locks for one door.

So maybe there was proof that Nat lived there after all.

"Steve, Tony."

Bruce came over to them, Fury on his heels.

Steve looked confused but Tony knew exactly what Bruce wanted to talk to them about. It was written in the set of Bruce's eyes and mouth.

"Fury, give us a minute," Tony grunted, pulling himself up higher against the wall. "It's about this nasty rash I've got growing right up in my-" Tony purposefully adjusted the seat of pants.

Fury rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it is, Stark. Five minutes. Then we need to start brainstorming a plan to get out of this."

"Yeah, yeah. Loud and clear."