[Mmmmmm forgave feels like a strong word, but, he does know that Tony wouldn't have been that kind of dick to him if he had actually realized what had actually happened. So it's also not an incorrect word.
Don't mind Clint looking particularly unimpressed. Clearly that's his default state.] The fact that shit got fixed like a day later didn't make alt me very happy. God forbid people experience starvation in the torture laboratory, I guess.
[But, y'know, more to the point:] I hope you're gonna write down these ratings in a way that other people can actually understand at some point. Feeling of shrapnel at least is... [Not, uh, not universal, but a lot more people are gonna understand it. He starts the process of carefully ejecting that crystal out to let Tony load the next one up.] Makes more sense to people generally.
Gonna convert it to numbers, don't worry. [ He reaches for the brightest one, the yellowish citrine point and pops it into place, faux-casually letting his fingers brush against Clint's hand as he takes a step back to get shot again. ] Last one was a 4. [ Tony explains. ] First one we tried was like a... 2-point-5? A pinch is point-5, the Bites are normally like a... Seven? [ He shrugs a shoulder. ]
I owe you a shitty decaf coffee one-a these days. For old time's sake.
We gotta get these bad boys up to at least a six if not a seven. You glutton for punishment.
[We are NOT. talking about shit-ass decaf coffee though. Clint decides you know what, maybe that's enough talking about it for now. Tony's even improving as they talk. Look at him, touching, even! They'll get over this hump.
[ Tony's halfway through a self-satisfied snicker when he's hit with this one. White-hot, electric pain shoots up his arm and he yelps once his nerves manage to register the sensation. He groans as the feeling works its way through his body, leaving an unpleasant numb tingle in its wake. ] Torture. I am chained in the flow of an active volcano. [ A beat, he laughs, the noise still slightly pained. ] Why did I agree to this?
[ But, right, numbers. ] Eight-point-five? Nine? Somewhere in that neighborhood. [ He exhales, it comes with another pained sound effect. ] Eugh...
[Clint jerks back a little in surprise, in concern, not realizing these were going to get that powerful. That Tony's still able to speak is at least a good sign.]
You wanna call it there, Stark? Still not looking to fry that brain of yours; it's the only part of you worth hanging onto. [Would they be them if they didn't verbally jab each other, really-]
Hah, good one... [ Tony grunts out. He's not exactly known for quitting while he's ahead, but- ] Think I can just- Pick that last one and call it a day. [ He forces out a laugh. ]
Lemme... [ Pant. ] Catch my breath... And I'll send you home with some citrine to get charged. [ Tony shrugs a shoulder from his doubled over position as he continues breathing heavily. ] Bring 'em back, y'know, whenever...
[Clint pulls off the gauntlet entirely, setting it on the table with a light toss as he comes over to Tony's side.] Sounds good, boss. You need me to call the doctor in the house? [He gets an arm around Tony's shoulders, a steadying hand on his arm.] At least sit down.
[ For the briefest of moments, every muscle in Tony's body tenses and freezes as Clint puts his arm around his shoulders.
An exhale later and Tony sags against that arm, letting it lead him to a bench. ] I'm fine, I'm fine- [ He protests even as he settles down to sit. Tony lets himself catch his breath for a minute, just breathing interspersed with the occasional promise that he's fine, really. But once he's not panting any more... ] Appreciate the help getting this done, Clint. [ A beat. ] No one else was answering my calls. [ Truthfully, he never had an alternate plan involving anyone else if this didn't work. But no one else has to know that. ]
[The moment is brief. But with Clint's hands on him, he can feel it. But. The moment passes. Tony lets himself get led. Sits. Breathes. Promises he's fine, which Clint pointedly ignores until he actually seems fine. Clint does not leave his side until that point.]
Pretty sure you could've gotten other people to help. I can't be the only one that's got taser fingers. [...Oh god, is he the only one right now with taser fingers?] But it's for Nat's sake, so. [He gives a little smirk, shake of his head, before he stands and makes to get this bitch a glass of water, god damn.] I'll only hang up on you if you're being truly an asshole.
Sssso... [ That damn stupid tongue of his. ] Always? You'll always hang up on me? [ He calls behind him with a weak laugh while Clint brings him that glass. But he knows, this time, he had an automatic in considering this was all to help out Natasha; no matter what an asshole he acted like, Clint would never say no to that.
Tony takes the glass eagerly, drinks down some water greedily, tamps down the needless urge to smash it on the ground and cut- He exhales a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and gingerly puts the glass down on the table before he runs hands through his hair. ...Or tries to, he bumps into the horns pretty quickly with a soft, frustrated groan. Not even allowed to be stressed the normal way anymore, fuck. Tony lets himself fall quiet. The magic ink in his tattooed arc reactor thrums not unlike the real one used to; a meditative, familiar feeling. ]
We're good. [ He says it about a few things: His magical electricity experiment, their weird shared delusion, and whatever happens here next. ] Thanks for your help.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
brandingproblem) wrote2025-03-24 12:12 pm
no subject
Don't mind Clint looking particularly unimpressed. Clearly that's his default state.] The fact that shit got fixed like a day later didn't make alt me very happy. God forbid people experience starvation in the torture laboratory, I guess.
[But, y'know, more to the point:] I hope you're gonna write down these ratings in a way that other people can actually understand at some point. Feeling of shrapnel at least is... [Not, uh, not universal, but a lot more people are gonna understand it. He starts the process of carefully ejecting that crystal out to let Tony load the next one up.] Makes more sense to people generally.
no subject
I owe you a shitty decaf coffee one-a these days. For old time's sake.
Anyway, shoot me.
no subject
[We are NOT. talking about shit-ass decaf coffee though. Clint decides you know what, maybe that's enough talking about it for now. Tony's even improving as they talk. Look at him, touching, even! They'll get over this hump.
Get zapped, asshole.]
no subject
[ But, right, numbers. ] Eight-point-five? Nine? Somewhere in that neighborhood. [ He exhales, it comes with another pained sound effect. ] Eugh...
no subject
You wanna call it there, Stark? Still not looking to fry that brain of yours; it's the only part of you worth hanging onto. [Would they be them if they didn't verbally jab each other, really-]
no subject
Lemme... [ Pant. ] Catch my breath... And I'll send you home with some citrine to get charged. [ Tony shrugs a shoulder from his doubled over position as he continues breathing heavily. ] Bring 'em back, y'know, whenever...
no subject
no subject
An exhale later and Tony sags against that arm, letting it lead him to a bench. ] I'm fine, I'm fine- [ He protests even as he settles down to sit. Tony lets himself catch his breath for a minute, just breathing interspersed with the occasional promise that he's fine, really. But once he's not panting any more... ] Appreciate the help getting this done, Clint. [ A beat. ] No one else was answering my calls. [ Truthfully, he never had an alternate plan involving anyone else if this didn't work. But no one else has to know that. ]
no subject
Pretty sure you could've gotten other people to help. I can't be the only one that's got taser fingers. [...Oh god, is he the only one right now with taser fingers?] But it's for Nat's sake, so. [He gives a little smirk, shake of his head, before he stands and makes to get this bitch a glass of water, god damn.] I'll only hang up on you if you're being truly an asshole.
no subject
Tony takes the glass eagerly, drinks down some water greedily, tamps down the needless urge to smash it on the ground and cut- He exhales a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and gingerly puts the glass down on the table before he runs hands through his hair. ...Or tries to, he bumps into the horns pretty quickly with a soft, frustrated groan. Not even allowed to be stressed the normal way anymore, fuck. Tony lets himself fall quiet. The magic ink in his tattooed arc reactor thrums not unlike the real one used to; a meditative, familiar feeling. ]
We're good. [ He says it about a few things: His magical electricity experiment, their weird shared delusion, and whatever happens here next. ] Thanks for your help.