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... Small companion/continuation piece to Sing The Space Electric, written almost purely because I wanted Tony & JARVIS telepathy, Tony mentally taking over a spaceship during a panic attack, and Clint Barton and Steve Rogers tag-teaming as a first contact team -_-;
Title: Touching in the Singing Void
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Characters/Pairings: Tony, JARVIS, Clint, Bruce, Steve, Natasha, original AI. Tony & JARVIS, Tony & Avengers
Summary: *points up* That's more or less the plot, up there
Wordcount: 2515
Warnings/Notes: Telepathic bonds, aftermath of violence/torture, bad sci-fi
Disclaimer: Not mine
Title: Touching in the Singing Void
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Characters/Pairings: Tony, JARVIS, Clint, Bruce, Steve, Natasha, original AI. Tony & JARVIS, Tony & Avengers
Summary: *points up* That's more or less the plot, up there
Wordcount: 2515
Warnings/Notes: Telepathic bonds, aftermath of violence/torture, bad sci-fi
Disclaimer: Not mine
Touching in the Singing Void
They were well into hyperspace by the time the shakes finally caught up with Tony. Three hours out from the Tannhauser cluster, with the ship fully under their control (the still-living members of the previous crew having been laboriously shifted down to the prison block to keep Obie company), and with the original AI partially back online.
(Tony had taken to calling her Babs for a personal name, since her original name, buried under Obadiah's corruption, had been Barbara. As in Saint, as in the patron saint of artillerymen and engineers and other people prone to blowing shit up. He wasn't sure yet whose joke that had been, his, Obie's, or hers. They did sometimes take their own names, and she had been flying a ship named Iron Monger. And then one named Avenger. So there was that.)
Maybe that was why they hit him there. In the lull, when they'd done most of what they could do to prepare for the upcoming battle, when JARVIS had mostly taken Babs under his wing, leaving Tony a little superfluous. When the SHIELD crew had gathered warily back inside the bridge, their presence suddenly pressing after the busy few hours where he'd been more or less alone while they shifted bodies, and more or less sufficiently distracted.
From the knowledge of what had just happened. What had almost happened, what had actually happened, Obie's face. The hum of nanites under his skin, and the knowledge, the memory, of their original purpose. He'd been ... distracted, from that. More or less. And now ... not so much.
JARVIS caught it first. The shaking under the armour, the tremors juddering though him that set the armour to sparking, to shifting fitfully around him. The black ball of ... something, in his head, in his mind, under his skin. The shaking that started, suddenly, and then just didn't stop. JARVIS saw it first.
{Sir!} The thought sounded in his head, thrown up through the shaking of his nets, and JARVIS plunged through him, spread himself shining through Tony's thoughts and curled Tony close. {Sir, what is it?}
Tony shook his head mutely, distantly aware that he was backing up, that he'd bumped into something, probably a wall. Slid down it, into a huddle. Also that the armour was having a mild panic attack right along with him, flexing itself in and out in search of an invisible threat. That was probably alarming his guests, Tony thought distantly. That was probably not doing him any favours in the I-am-not-a-crazy-galactic-warlord stakes.
{Don't know,} he cast, shaking his head, wondering as his sight seemed to dim and fail. Mechanical failure. Well, biological, but same difference. {J-JARVIS ...}
{Scanning, sir,} JARVIS assured immediately, and yeah, Tony could feel him. Could feel the silver presence stripping through the layers of his implant, insinuating itself completely into his net, his brain, searching desperately for the flaw. Spreading beyond it, hijacking itself onto the new signals from the nanites seeded through his blood, pouring through him like a silver fire, down to the mechanical heart. Searching for failure, for flaw, seeking the cause of the distress. Wrapping him desperately in silver while he shook himself apart.
Probably not actually physical, Tony thought. Probably not. But with the nanites, with the torture and the armour and the fake heart ... Shit. Could use a scan anyway, maybe. Could afford to let JARVIS pull him a little bit apart, to make sure he was actually still ticking somewhere under there.
{H-How's things look?} he managed, with a grin for all the shaking in it. Feeling his humour curl through JARVIS' panic, his own. Feeling it curl across the surface of that black, trembling lump inside him. {'m'I still as beautiful as ever, you think?}
JARVIS' response to that one wasn't verbal. Not even remotely. A burst across Tony's net, a flare of fury and desperation and hatred, and a subspace link out to the totality of JARVIS' memory of him. All of Tony, everything he'd ever been, flaring across their minds in microcosmic unison. Yes, the answer, a furious gut punch, the burn of JARVIS' rage and grief and love.
Tony hiccuped helplessly, feeling fields clash distantly as his arms wrapped themselves around his chest, and the armour flared against itself. Feeling the black thing crack, feeling it break, and the swamp of remembered pain and terror and grief and betrayal flood out.
Oh. Right. That would be why, then. That ... that explained a lot.
"-ark! Stark!"
He couldn't make his eyes function. Really, seriously, he honestly couldn't. His body had locked itself shaking around him, and he couldn't have budged the damn thing if he tried.
Fortunately, now that JARVIS was back, he wasn't actually limited to just his body.
Babs moved aside for him clumsily, guided by JARVIS into making a sliver of room for him on her systems, just enough to hook him into internal monitoring and the sound system. Tony grinned at her in passing, a curl of mental gratitude and amusement brushed across her identity nodes. She startled, heartbreakingly confused, fucking Obie, and flickered a shy touch back. Feathering it along him, cushioned against JARVIS.
"Hey there," he said. Or, rather, the ship said for him. Displayed across the security feeds, all four of them ... well, they didn't actually move that much, but Tony suspected that in any other group they'd have just done the equivalent of jumping out of their skin. "Sorry. Sorry. Having a mild panic attack, I think. Back soon, no worries."
Barton raised an eyebrow incredulously. He had a fabulous face for it, Tony noticed. "You're having a panic attack," he repeated. "In which your killer energy armour is on the fritz, and apparently you're possessing the spaceship we're currently sitting in." He paused, thoughtfully. "I think your definition of 'worry' might be a little different from ours."
Tony laughed. And since it wasn't actually his vocal cords doing it, just his mind translated through Babs' soundbanks, it appeared to come out a little ... wrong. Judging by the not-jumping they all engaged in again.
"Stark," Banner said, cautiously, and Tony belatedly figured out that it had been Banner who'd started talking to him in the first place. Banner, who was crouching carefully just out of range of the fitful flaring of the armour, frowning in concern at Tony's body.
Which, now that it had snagged his attention again, almost managed to pull his focus out of Babs' systems and back into his own brain. Would have, except JARVIS caught him, snapped his attention to him, and filtered him back across the wireless link with considerably more care than his own panicking brain would have managed.
Tony, hitting the tremors in his chest once more, managed to open his eyes this time. Managed to grip hold of his shaking nerves and yell at them until they paid attention.
"S-sorry," he managed, staring up at the four wary, twitchy faces around him, the rueful grin sneaking back across his face. "JARVIS hooked me up. Just for a second. I needed a ... a voice, and mine wasn't cooperating, yeah?"
Barton stared at him for a long, long second, and Tony quivered at a phantom memory, the snap of the man's fist against his jaw, back when they'd first taken him aboard. Nothing much, not compared to what he'd come from, and he'd kind of understood the guy's motivation, there. But still.
"That," the man decided, slowly, "is not actually that reassuring. You know that, right?"
Tony grinned at him, a dark, pearly gleam, as he felt JARVIS' anger stir at the flash of memory. And then, more surprisingly, Barbara stirring behind him, her emotions rudimentary and unfocused, with the damage done to her, but most definitely there. The bridge lights flickered for a second, under her ministrations, and Tony mentally blinked at her in startled gratitude.
"Clint," Bruce spoke up, the utter calm of his voice straining against a warning note as he crouched at Tony's side. "Commentary later, yes? Crisis now."
And that ... No. No, you know what? Screw this. Screw this all the way down a black hole. Time to start fixing up the crazy-warlord-technomancer impression. At least a little bit, anyway. Tony was not going to spend this entire trip surrounded by people who were afraid and disgusted by him. Been there, done that. Nuh-uh.
"Nah," he said, and let it be serious. Dropped the grin to meet Barton's eyes, the wariness there. No actual fear, though. Now that Tony looked at him. Just caution, and readiness. "Commentary's fine. Just. You know. Lets keep the physical violence to a minimum, this trip?"
Rogers flinched, at that. Tony noted it, out of the corner of his eye, through the remnants of Babs' nets threaded beside his. Rogers flinched, and Banner. Not Barton, though. Neither Barton nor Romanov so much as twitched.
"I'm gonna apologise for that," Barton said, evenly. "I think you know why I did it." He watched Tony's flinch, in turn. Kept his eyes fixed, like a sniper drawing down. But his expression softened a little, at Tony's obvious pain. Gulmira. Yeah, Tony knew why. "But I'll apologise. And ..." He paused, thoughtful again, and something in the stillness of him made Romanov turn, drew the beginnings of a worried frown to her features, before Barton finished with: "You want to take a swing for it, I can do that too."
Which had all three of them swinging towards Barton, Romanov first and foremost, with Rogers a step behind her, growling in dismay at Barton's completely unconcerned expression, and Tony felt the distant flash of JARVIS' respect shiver through him. Behind it, the confused, faltering compassion as Barbara leaned her attention to Barton, as she reacted to Tony and JARVIS' understanding of what Barton was doing, putting himself in front of his people, offering a chance for retribution. Tony felt the distant, pained confusion as the battered AI struggled to encompass that thought, the shivering compassion as she decided she liked it.
And for that, just for that, for the pained awe shivering through his skull, Tony met Barton's calm, ready gaze, and made an executive decision.
He felt JARVIS flood him, felt JARVIS cradle him with stung sympathy and maybe some touch of pride, as they tripped the nanites threaded through him, and dropped the armour, all of it, in one rinsed rush of energy. Meeting Barton's stare head on, chin tipping a little in instinctive defiance, as he dropped his main defense in answer.
Though he did almost twitch, did almost look away, when he felt the rain of sliver-thin flakes of tabletop slough off his back. Problem with engaging the armour while tied down to a surface. You tended to take a couple of layers of that surface with you when you left.
"Did I not just say we were keeping the violence to a minimum?" he asked softly, ignoring the startled look Banner shot him, restraining the flinch when the man reached automatically towards him. Keeping his eyes fixed on Barton. On the challenge there. "Seriously. Could we maybe just agree, I don't hit you, you don't hit me? Is that too much to ask?"
Barton didn't answer. Just held Tony's eyes, creases spidering out around his own as Tony deliberately, defiantly refused to raise the armour, refused to hide back behind it. It was Rogers who answered, while Barton just smiled faintly, and maybe gently.
"No," Rogers said, soft and firm. "No, it's not too much to ask, Mr Stark." And Tony glanced at him there, at the crease of pain and guilt between his eyes. The Captain looked back with such stern, sincere honesty that Tony almost raised the armour again in startled reflex, flinching back from the openness there. JARVIS caught him, though. JARVIS had his back, and kept them open. "We're sorry for the pain you've suffered, Mr Stark."
And if Barbara hadn't been there, if she hadn't been staring down in damaged, wondering fascination at these people, these concepts that Obie had kept her from, mercy and compassion and pity and offering, all that, Tony might have said something unwise. Tony might have flashed back something ugly, for the black thing only just broken open inside him, too raw still for this shit. He might have.
But she was there. Reaching tentatively for JARVIS, curling queries across the older, bigger AI, drawing across subspace for the humming of his experience and his knowledge and his understanding. Learning the words, while JARVIS reached back. Linking name to concept, and concept to the proud, shamed reality standing on her bridge. She was there, and she was reaching out for concepts to fill the wounds cut into her under Obadiah and Hydra and all the things she'd had to do, and there was no way in blistering hell Tony was ruining that. Not for a second.
"... Sure," he managed. Staring blankly up at them, wondering vaguely how much chance there was that everything between his cell on the Avenger and here had been a hallucination.
But JARVIS hadn't been there in that cell. The endless, silver hum in his skull, the cradling presence wrapped around his psyche, vibrating faintly with fury and love and the distant, singing howl of subspace. JARVIS hadn't been there, and there'd been nothing Tony had ever managed to imagine that felt even remotely like the weight and knowledge of him.
{I'm here, sir,} JARVIS murmured, catching the thought, the shaking almost-fear behind it. Curling gently through him against all the black places in the universe, a presence flung across voids in the singing howl. {I have you.}
... Yeah. Yeah, he did. And knowing that ...
"Right!" Tony decided, slapping his hand decisively off the deck, and ignoring the glares it got him as he climbed back up the wall to his feet. Only barely flinching as Banner reached out to help him. As Banner smiled ruefully, knowingly, and Tony stared at the hand on his elbow for a second, before deciding to ignore it. Yup. Ignoring all of that. "That's nice, that's lovely. No violence whatsoever, my favourite arrangement. So glad we had this chat, lets move on, yes? Back to work, battles to prepare for, lets go."
And they stared at him dubiously for that one, four entirely different but equally skeptical expressions, but there were two presences ghosting through him, one vast and gentle and amused, one confused and wondering and tentatively curious, and there was a job to do, people to save, empires to crush. There was JARVIS behind him, around him, beyond him, and an enemy up ahead that he was going to take a great deal of pleasure in obliterating.
Tony could handle a few disbelieving, wary jailors/prisoners/comrades/allies/people, when he had those to focus on. Yes, yes he could.
{Yes, we can, sir,} JARVIS murmured, assurance and agreement and vague reproach, and Tony let himself curl into the silver of him with a sigh.
{Yes,} he decided. {You know what, buddy? I think we can, at that.}
Contd: Darkening Coruscation
They were well into hyperspace by the time the shakes finally caught up with Tony. Three hours out from the Tannhauser cluster, with the ship fully under their control (the still-living members of the previous crew having been laboriously shifted down to the prison block to keep Obie company), and with the original AI partially back online.
(Tony had taken to calling her Babs for a personal name, since her original name, buried under Obadiah's corruption, had been Barbara. As in Saint, as in the patron saint of artillerymen and engineers and other people prone to blowing shit up. He wasn't sure yet whose joke that had been, his, Obie's, or hers. They did sometimes take their own names, and she had been flying a ship named Iron Monger. And then one named Avenger. So there was that.)
Maybe that was why they hit him there. In the lull, when they'd done most of what they could do to prepare for the upcoming battle, when JARVIS had mostly taken Babs under his wing, leaving Tony a little superfluous. When the SHIELD crew had gathered warily back inside the bridge, their presence suddenly pressing after the busy few hours where he'd been more or less alone while they shifted bodies, and more or less sufficiently distracted.
From the knowledge of what had just happened. What had almost happened, what had actually happened, Obie's face. The hum of nanites under his skin, and the knowledge, the memory, of their original purpose. He'd been ... distracted, from that. More or less. And now ... not so much.
JARVIS caught it first. The shaking under the armour, the tremors juddering though him that set the armour to sparking, to shifting fitfully around him. The black ball of ... something, in his head, in his mind, under his skin. The shaking that started, suddenly, and then just didn't stop. JARVIS saw it first.
{Sir!} The thought sounded in his head, thrown up through the shaking of his nets, and JARVIS plunged through him, spread himself shining through Tony's thoughts and curled Tony close. {Sir, what is it?}
Tony shook his head mutely, distantly aware that he was backing up, that he'd bumped into something, probably a wall. Slid down it, into a huddle. Also that the armour was having a mild panic attack right along with him, flexing itself in and out in search of an invisible threat. That was probably alarming his guests, Tony thought distantly. That was probably not doing him any favours in the I-am-not-a-crazy-galactic-warlord stakes.
{Don't know,} he cast, shaking his head, wondering as his sight seemed to dim and fail. Mechanical failure. Well, biological, but same difference. {J-JARVIS ...}
{Scanning, sir,} JARVIS assured immediately, and yeah, Tony could feel him. Could feel the silver presence stripping through the layers of his implant, insinuating itself completely into his net, his brain, searching desperately for the flaw. Spreading beyond it, hijacking itself onto the new signals from the nanites seeded through his blood, pouring through him like a silver fire, down to the mechanical heart. Searching for failure, for flaw, seeking the cause of the distress. Wrapping him desperately in silver while he shook himself apart.
Probably not actually physical, Tony thought. Probably not. But with the nanites, with the torture and the armour and the fake heart ... Shit. Could use a scan anyway, maybe. Could afford to let JARVIS pull him a little bit apart, to make sure he was actually still ticking somewhere under there.
{H-How's things look?} he managed, with a grin for all the shaking in it. Feeling his humour curl through JARVIS' panic, his own. Feeling it curl across the surface of that black, trembling lump inside him. {'m'I still as beautiful as ever, you think?}
JARVIS' response to that one wasn't verbal. Not even remotely. A burst across Tony's net, a flare of fury and desperation and hatred, and a subspace link out to the totality of JARVIS' memory of him. All of Tony, everything he'd ever been, flaring across their minds in microcosmic unison. Yes, the answer, a furious gut punch, the burn of JARVIS' rage and grief and love.
Tony hiccuped helplessly, feeling fields clash distantly as his arms wrapped themselves around his chest, and the armour flared against itself. Feeling the black thing crack, feeling it break, and the swamp of remembered pain and terror and grief and betrayal flood out.
Oh. Right. That would be why, then. That ... that explained a lot.
"-ark! Stark!"
He couldn't make his eyes function. Really, seriously, he honestly couldn't. His body had locked itself shaking around him, and he couldn't have budged the damn thing if he tried.
Fortunately, now that JARVIS was back, he wasn't actually limited to just his body.
Babs moved aside for him clumsily, guided by JARVIS into making a sliver of room for him on her systems, just enough to hook him into internal monitoring and the sound system. Tony grinned at her in passing, a curl of mental gratitude and amusement brushed across her identity nodes. She startled, heartbreakingly confused, fucking Obie, and flickered a shy touch back. Feathering it along him, cushioned against JARVIS.
"Hey there," he said. Or, rather, the ship said for him. Displayed across the security feeds, all four of them ... well, they didn't actually move that much, but Tony suspected that in any other group they'd have just done the equivalent of jumping out of their skin. "Sorry. Sorry. Having a mild panic attack, I think. Back soon, no worries."
Barton raised an eyebrow incredulously. He had a fabulous face for it, Tony noticed. "You're having a panic attack," he repeated. "In which your killer energy armour is on the fritz, and apparently you're possessing the spaceship we're currently sitting in." He paused, thoughtfully. "I think your definition of 'worry' might be a little different from ours."
Tony laughed. And since it wasn't actually his vocal cords doing it, just his mind translated through Babs' soundbanks, it appeared to come out a little ... wrong. Judging by the not-jumping they all engaged in again.
"Stark," Banner said, cautiously, and Tony belatedly figured out that it had been Banner who'd started talking to him in the first place. Banner, who was crouching carefully just out of range of the fitful flaring of the armour, frowning in concern at Tony's body.
Which, now that it had snagged his attention again, almost managed to pull his focus out of Babs' systems and back into his own brain. Would have, except JARVIS caught him, snapped his attention to him, and filtered him back across the wireless link with considerably more care than his own panicking brain would have managed.
Tony, hitting the tremors in his chest once more, managed to open his eyes this time. Managed to grip hold of his shaking nerves and yell at them until they paid attention.
"S-sorry," he managed, staring up at the four wary, twitchy faces around him, the rueful grin sneaking back across his face. "JARVIS hooked me up. Just for a second. I needed a ... a voice, and mine wasn't cooperating, yeah?"
Barton stared at him for a long, long second, and Tony quivered at a phantom memory, the snap of the man's fist against his jaw, back when they'd first taken him aboard. Nothing much, not compared to what he'd come from, and he'd kind of understood the guy's motivation, there. But still.
"That," the man decided, slowly, "is not actually that reassuring. You know that, right?"
Tony grinned at him, a dark, pearly gleam, as he felt JARVIS' anger stir at the flash of memory. And then, more surprisingly, Barbara stirring behind him, her emotions rudimentary and unfocused, with the damage done to her, but most definitely there. The bridge lights flickered for a second, under her ministrations, and Tony mentally blinked at her in startled gratitude.
"Clint," Bruce spoke up, the utter calm of his voice straining against a warning note as he crouched at Tony's side. "Commentary later, yes? Crisis now."
And that ... No. No, you know what? Screw this. Screw this all the way down a black hole. Time to start fixing up the crazy-warlord-technomancer impression. At least a little bit, anyway. Tony was not going to spend this entire trip surrounded by people who were afraid and disgusted by him. Been there, done that. Nuh-uh.
"Nah," he said, and let it be serious. Dropped the grin to meet Barton's eyes, the wariness there. No actual fear, though. Now that Tony looked at him. Just caution, and readiness. "Commentary's fine. Just. You know. Lets keep the physical violence to a minimum, this trip?"
Rogers flinched, at that. Tony noted it, out of the corner of his eye, through the remnants of Babs' nets threaded beside his. Rogers flinched, and Banner. Not Barton, though. Neither Barton nor Romanov so much as twitched.
"I'm gonna apologise for that," Barton said, evenly. "I think you know why I did it." He watched Tony's flinch, in turn. Kept his eyes fixed, like a sniper drawing down. But his expression softened a little, at Tony's obvious pain. Gulmira. Yeah, Tony knew why. "But I'll apologise. And ..." He paused, thoughtful again, and something in the stillness of him made Romanov turn, drew the beginnings of a worried frown to her features, before Barton finished with: "You want to take a swing for it, I can do that too."
Which had all three of them swinging towards Barton, Romanov first and foremost, with Rogers a step behind her, growling in dismay at Barton's completely unconcerned expression, and Tony felt the distant flash of JARVIS' respect shiver through him. Behind it, the confused, faltering compassion as Barbara leaned her attention to Barton, as she reacted to Tony and JARVIS' understanding of what Barton was doing, putting himself in front of his people, offering a chance for retribution. Tony felt the distant, pained confusion as the battered AI struggled to encompass that thought, the shivering compassion as she decided she liked it.
And for that, just for that, for the pained awe shivering through his skull, Tony met Barton's calm, ready gaze, and made an executive decision.
He felt JARVIS flood him, felt JARVIS cradle him with stung sympathy and maybe some touch of pride, as they tripped the nanites threaded through him, and dropped the armour, all of it, in one rinsed rush of energy. Meeting Barton's stare head on, chin tipping a little in instinctive defiance, as he dropped his main defense in answer.
Though he did almost twitch, did almost look away, when he felt the rain of sliver-thin flakes of tabletop slough off his back. Problem with engaging the armour while tied down to a surface. You tended to take a couple of layers of that surface with you when you left.
"Did I not just say we were keeping the violence to a minimum?" he asked softly, ignoring the startled look Banner shot him, restraining the flinch when the man reached automatically towards him. Keeping his eyes fixed on Barton. On the challenge there. "Seriously. Could we maybe just agree, I don't hit you, you don't hit me? Is that too much to ask?"
Barton didn't answer. Just held Tony's eyes, creases spidering out around his own as Tony deliberately, defiantly refused to raise the armour, refused to hide back behind it. It was Rogers who answered, while Barton just smiled faintly, and maybe gently.
"No," Rogers said, soft and firm. "No, it's not too much to ask, Mr Stark." And Tony glanced at him there, at the crease of pain and guilt between his eyes. The Captain looked back with such stern, sincere honesty that Tony almost raised the armour again in startled reflex, flinching back from the openness there. JARVIS caught him, though. JARVIS had his back, and kept them open. "We're sorry for the pain you've suffered, Mr Stark."
And if Barbara hadn't been there, if she hadn't been staring down in damaged, wondering fascination at these people, these concepts that Obie had kept her from, mercy and compassion and pity and offering, all that, Tony might have said something unwise. Tony might have flashed back something ugly, for the black thing only just broken open inside him, too raw still for this shit. He might have.
But she was there. Reaching tentatively for JARVIS, curling queries across the older, bigger AI, drawing across subspace for the humming of his experience and his knowledge and his understanding. Learning the words, while JARVIS reached back. Linking name to concept, and concept to the proud, shamed reality standing on her bridge. She was there, and she was reaching out for concepts to fill the wounds cut into her under Obadiah and Hydra and all the things she'd had to do, and there was no way in blistering hell Tony was ruining that. Not for a second.
"... Sure," he managed. Staring blankly up at them, wondering vaguely how much chance there was that everything between his cell on the Avenger and here had been a hallucination.
But JARVIS hadn't been there in that cell. The endless, silver hum in his skull, the cradling presence wrapped around his psyche, vibrating faintly with fury and love and the distant, singing howl of subspace. JARVIS hadn't been there, and there'd been nothing Tony had ever managed to imagine that felt even remotely like the weight and knowledge of him.
{I'm here, sir,} JARVIS murmured, catching the thought, the shaking almost-fear behind it. Curling gently through him against all the black places in the universe, a presence flung across voids in the singing howl. {I have you.}
... Yeah. Yeah, he did. And knowing that ...
"Right!" Tony decided, slapping his hand decisively off the deck, and ignoring the glares it got him as he climbed back up the wall to his feet. Only barely flinching as Banner reached out to help him. As Banner smiled ruefully, knowingly, and Tony stared at the hand on his elbow for a second, before deciding to ignore it. Yup. Ignoring all of that. "That's nice, that's lovely. No violence whatsoever, my favourite arrangement. So glad we had this chat, lets move on, yes? Back to work, battles to prepare for, lets go."
And they stared at him dubiously for that one, four entirely different but equally skeptical expressions, but there were two presences ghosting through him, one vast and gentle and amused, one confused and wondering and tentatively curious, and there was a job to do, people to save, empires to crush. There was JARVIS behind him, around him, beyond him, and an enemy up ahead that he was going to take a great deal of pleasure in obliterating.
Tony could handle a few disbelieving, wary jailors/prisoners/comrades/allies/people, when he had those to focus on. Yes, yes he could.
{Yes, we can, sir,} JARVIS murmured, assurance and agreement and vague reproach, and Tony let himself curl into the silver of him with a sigh.
{Yes,} he decided. {You know what, buddy? I think we can, at that.}
Contd: Darkening Coruscation
