imafuturist | Lab Beneath Stark Industries, Tuesday Afternoon

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Lab Beneath Stark Industries, Tuesday Afternoon

It had only been a few days and Tony already hated this whole thing. His focus was completely shot and he was forced to farm out work in hopes of getting somewhere.

"Anything so far?"

Only half of Reed's body was in frame of the holographic projection. Not because it cut him off for a small area to be shown, but because half of him was stretched off to another part of his lab back in the Baxter Building. It would have been unnerving if you didn't know the man. "Tony, this isn't the only project I'm working on. If you wanted faster results, we both know Hank is the expert on biochemical reactions--"

"--and Hank is currently unavailable," Tony said firmly. And a bit sad for good measure.

"Yes," Reed said, looking awkward for a moment before something else caught his attention. "I'll get back to you as soon as I can synthesize an antidote."

Tony sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, okay. Keep me updated," he said before cutting off the feed.

He sat back onto his workbench and gave the suit a foul look for failing him on this.

[open! I amuse myself]

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Steve came thundering down the stairs. "Did you know there's a locker on campus that eats people?"

Always so dramatic, Steven.

"Yes." Wait for Tony's brain to catch up. "What?"

There we go!

"I read it on the radio this morning like that news was just as important as whoever Fred slept with last night," Steve said impatiently.

Tony stared for a moment, letting that process. "People are way too interested in who everyone sleeps with. That's a thing now. The locker thing might be a pocket dimension."

Which normally would be way more interesting to Tony.

"Oh, people were always interested in who was stepping out with who," Steve said, "but it was done via two ladies gossiping over the laundry lines, not the radio. That was saved for important people, like Clark Gable and Greta Garbo." He took one step further into Tony's personal space than he'd normally find appropriate.

Blame the week.

"What's a pocket dimension?"

He would. He'd also blame the week for why he did a little more watching of Steve's shoulders than strictly necessary.

"I might not be the right person to ask about it then. Apparently I'm sleeping with most of my teammates if you read any of the gossip pages." Which was both hilarious and sad, to be honest. "A pocket dimension is one adjacent to ours that we can access easily without being a fully formed one like mine to yours."

"And they'd keep that in a locker," Steve said dryly.

"The office is run by a moose, Steve."

A MOOSE.

"My teaching buddy is a pony," Steve offered.

"And we're questioning why the school has a pocket dimension in a locker," Tony said. He spread his legs a little further apart on the bench to lean in like that needed to addressed without other people hearing.

It was too late, JARVIS was already judging the crap out of them.

And if Steve's knee touched Tony's, it was only because he had stupidly long legs now.

And also shut up.

"Good point," Steve sighed. "Think I should go in after them?"

Steve needed a task really badly.

He did have weirdly long legs. And an absurdly narrow waist. And--you know what, Tony was not going to think about that any further. Except how he was and this was going to make working on a team so difficult.

"Into the pocket dimension?"

"Yes," Steve said. "I don't teach until Friday."

"Oh. Okay," Tony replied slowly. "Let's go then."

Tony, no.

"Great!" Steve said, bouncing up. "It'll go to the same universe, right?"

Maybe?

"Maybe," Tony said, in total agreement with that narrative. "I can have JARVIS run the numbers. And then I can test if the suit will filter the chemicals out."

"The chemicals?" Steve asked, maybe leaning into Tony's shoulder. Maybe.

And Tony was now the terrible person who was having impure thoughts about the lost puppy version of Captain America. He was going to hell for certain now.

"It's... I didn't warn you about this time of year?"

"Oh, I read about it on the news today--" Steve really enjoyed getting to say that, "--but I thought this was just one of those things that everyone endured. Like the moose and the mini skirts."

"The moose and the amorous mood is just here," Tony replied, having to clear his throat and brush off imaginary lint on Steve's shoulder. Because he was right there in his way. "You might not get all of it with your metabolism, though. Trust me, you'd be lucky."

"Yeah, I get weird mood swings--" nice euphemism, Steve, "--but they aren't lasting long."

Explain your leg, Steve.

He could explain nothing at all.

Tony's lips twitched in an attempt to not grin at the 'mood swings' comment, but he didn't mock it. "I'm getting some people back home to work on an antidote for it, but it's not a high priority. Even though my concentration is completely ruined."

Somehow neither Reed nor T'Challa took that as an emergency. Bastards.

"It's like college again without being a weedy fourteen year old with bad hair."

DAMN THAT PERM.

"You were in college---of course you were fourteen," Steve said. "You're brilliant."

And funny, and had great hair and nice eyes and what. Brain, stop that.

Well, if his goal was to get Tony Stark to blush like a dainty maiden, he succeeded.

"Not the reaction I got then," he replied awkwardly. Steve, why were you so close? Look, Tony could probably count eyelashes. Which he wouldn't because that was incredibly weird.

He hated his brain.

Well, Steve's eyelashes were ridiculous, even on weeks not meant to call attention to them.

"Sounds lonely," Steve said softly.

And Steve knew lonely.

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