chutzpah | ⋆ sail with me among the stars ⋆

He actually grimaces at that, taking his own sip to cover it up. He didn't actually expect that rush of empathy at Steve's clear (and justified) bitterness.

"Maybe it will," Tony says after too long a pause, in that same neutral tone that means he doesn't really believe what he's saying. "Or you could tell them to go screw." He lifts his eyebrows, it's what he would do.

Steve once again shakes his head. His anger has been replaced with a deep sadness that never really leaves. "It's not that simple. Maybe they could replace me, but let's be honest here: how long will the next two last?" He looks up at Tony then. He's stuck. Trying to retire would be like asking people to die in his place. What would he even do? He has no life to speak of. Saving the world is all he has now.

"I can't let people die because I'm tired of it." Everything. He lets it be assumed it's piloting. The truth is something even Steve doesn't actively realize. He can't accept the fact that his grief has left him so low that he probably would die if he had to go out and fight right now.

That doesn't sit right with him, but it isn't like he has the right to protest. Then again, that had never stopped him before. Tony sets down his mug with a little clinking sound, frowning over at Steve like he might take it back, though he knows he won't. Though he'd spent entirely too much time pushing this man away, what would he do if he died? He feels another hot stab of indignation but it's because Steve doesn't see any worth in himself. And maybe that's what has been annoying him from the start.

"What about you?" It's sharp, but his tone is even, mostly unaffected. He needs to know and he can't let his own emotions escalate the situation before he gets his answer.

"What about me?" He's genuinely confused by the question that says it all really. His part in this hardly matters. Steve's known for a while he's a sacrificial lamb who keeps avoiding the knife against all the odds. It's completely worn him down.

"This is my job. I have to keep going until it's done." And it seemingly never will be.

He heaves out an exasperated sigh, imagining a world in which he throws the cup against the wall behind Steve. It shatters inside his mind's eye and inexplicably, calms him down. His knuckles go white from the fantasy, but the only change in his demeanor outwardly is a bit of tightening around his eyes.

"Which will be when?" Same even tone. Objective, assessing. Perhaps even a bit clinical. It's better than judgmental, he reasons. Better than the anger he wishes he could express. Has every right to feel, but he doesn't feel entitled to it anymore. He can't have it both ways; either Howard was his father and he gets to grieve him, or he wasn't and he has to be there for Steve. In his mind, fantasy or no, there is no third option.

"I don't know," he says like a guilty child who most certainly knows what the real answer is. Worse yet he can hear it in his voice. Steve lets out a sigh in exasperation as well. Fine he can say it. They're adults who are perfectly aware of the consequences of being a pilot.

"Until I'm dead or they're dead. Whichever comes first." To Steve's credit, he makes it sound like the obvious answer. He isn't planning to die like this. It just happens. He has no control over it.

He's actually grateful for the honesty, nodding and taking another drink at the admittance. He gets throwing yourself into something so completely, nothing else matters. "As long as you don't go out of your way to let the first happen," he edges carefully, trying to sound apathetic. He isn't. Far from.

Steve shakes his head. The idea is kind of revolting to him even if in practice he is probably a problem right now. "I'm not trying to skip out on the job before my time is up."

"Good," he hears himself say softly, setting down his cup and leaning towards Steve a little, his weight resting forward on his elbows. "But maybe you shouldn't worry about all that for a hot minute." His father is barely cold and Steve's got all this pressure on him to move on. As much as he's supposed to write off nostalgia and everything his father stands for, maybe his role here is helping Steve grieve. Who else is there?

Steve hangs his head tiredly. It means a lot to hear Tony say that. He might be the first person not to breathe down his neck since Howard was pronounced dead. "I'm not sure I'll have the luxury of not worrying about it."

"Yeah... Tell me about it." Steve's not the only one being leaned on after all. He shrugs his shoulders a little. "Want to play some ping pong or something?" He's not joking, gaze imploring Steve gently. They both could use the distraction, and Steve can't exactly get wasted (Tony just shouldn't).

He imagines they're bothering Tony even if no one mentions it directly to him. He isn't his father. He's just the partner Howard's kid never liked. He'd still metaphorically rip their heads off for it.

Steve nods, downing the rest of his coffee in one easy swig. "Sure. Just try to go easy on the old man. I'd hate to throw out my back."

He sighs, like he's put-upon. Really, he's excited to play against someone other than Dum-e. "No promises." Whirling on a heel, Tony turns to the hall to board the elevator -- he never lets anyone into his lab but Pepper and occasionally Rhodey. Very occasionally. Even if it's 'just' to play ping-pong it's definitely not a place Steve ever would have been allowed before.

He isn't sure where he pictured this game happening. It's about the time he is going to be let on the elevator he realizes where they might be going though it's more of a concept to him than anything. It makes him nervous all over again. He tries to behave naturally; as if this isn't a big deal.

He laughs softly. "It's not like I needed my dignity for anything. I can crawl out of here."

That startles a little laugh from him as well, shaking his head as he leans against the bar in the lift. "Yeah, that's the way it's gonna go down." It's dry, with a little headshake. There's a reason he didn't pick a more physical sport. Even if he weren't pushing 40 and didn't have an electromagnet for a heart, he'd be the one crawling after one game of H-O-R-S-E or whatever. Plus he likes table tennis, so sue him.

"Welcome back, sir... and guest." It had been a little while since he'd wanted to come down here, maybe he needed a buddy to face the things he shared with his father. If it isn't his imagination, J.A.R.V.I.S. seems to hesitate over his recognition of the man in his workshop now.

"I know, J. Hold your applause and let us in." Tony punches in the security code and presses his thumb-print against the screen, looking to the glass as it moves aside for them. "After you, Captain." Tony does a little half-bow, gesturing for Steve to go in ahead.

Steve notes that. It only makes his anxiety spike a little higher. Steve is determined to act naturally so he largely does despite the fact he does look a little uncertain still.

He walks past Tony with a soft, fond sounding laugh. "I'm flattered. No one ever makes the pre-game ping pong so exciting. What's up next? Do I have to cross a sea of lava to reach the table?"

There are various bots and cool shit strewn across almost every surface. But there are cases in the corner with much more interesting items. They look almost like Jaegers, but scaled down to man-size. Clearly only one pilot could fit inside. Tony says nothing about any of it, leading him past it all like it's not even there. There's a lit-up ping pong table in the corner guarded by Dum-e, who turns to greet Steve in his way.

"No lava, but you do have to get through this guy." His expression is blank, but Dum-e doesn't seem to take the hint and Tony only ends up rolling his eyes as he moves to retrieve the paddles. "Can you ref?" he asks slowly, shaking his head and murmuring something that sounds like dumb fuck under his breath.

"Blue or green?"

Steve doesn't even bother to conceal his surprise and interest when they pass the suits. He doesn't ask because he figures that's really none of his business. He keeps going until he's in front of the bot. Steve gives him a once over before smiling. "Guess he's decided to show mercy on me."

Steve shrugs like it's the obvious answer. "I'll take blue." Like there was every any doubt.

"Don't read too much into it. He was dropped on his head a lot." Dum-e makes a sad trilling noise that Tony unsurprisingly ignores. He wanted to be blue, and yes he knows how unbelievably kindergarten that is. He sighs and flips sides, tossing Steve the blue paddle. The table lights up, a red digital ball suspended in mid-air.

Steve can't help feeling sorry for the poor little guy. He pats him gently like one might do a very pathetic pet before refocusing on the game. He raises a brow at the little digital ball. "Okay that's pretty neat." He smiles, raising his paddle.

Okay game on. By the way that translates too pretending the fact that the ball is digital is throwing him off. Steve is going to throw this game so hard.

"Yes, we get it, you're a dinosaur." Tony flashes a very put upon look and serves the ball for who gets the serve. Aka he's not fooled bro, you worked alongside his dad too long for this act. But yes, he knows he'll probably try to throw the game anyway. So Tony is going to throw it back because he can't step down from a competition. Even if it's a competition for who loses.

"So no complaining about the weather or inflation while you're around?" Steve winks before attempting to knock it back. Whoops he swung too high. Guess Tony has to serve assuming this is how ping pong works. The writer played it like twice in her life and can't be bothered to Google this. Rest assured he is already finding a way to hilariously lose this game.

He was afraid this would happen. Tony finds himself laughing before he can help it, though it cuts off when the digital ball bounces out of range and reappears on his side of the court. "Complaining to an out-of-touch billionaire about inflation sounds like a waste of your time, but hey. What could a banana possibly cost? Ten dollars?" Tony spikes the ball, fully expecting Steve to let him have the first point.

It slides right past him mostly because that probably is true in some places. Way to remind him, Tony!!! "Alright I'm taking that topic off the table. I really do feel like a bitter old man." He says it in good humor. Mostly. "Besides, I rather complain about how expensive movies are if we were going there." Seriously it's like twenty dollars. It's super rude. All he wants to do is weep over live action adaptions of Disney princess stories. What the Hell?

Tony doesn't know how much movies cost either, so he only continues to smile. As bitter as it makes him, he can't help but find Steve charming. Which was of course, the danger all along. His father and himself are similar and if Howard was besties or more with the guy for Tony's whole life plus, well. It would only follow that Tony would like the guy, Heaven forbid.

"Actually watch the ball this time, bitter old-timer," he pretends to condescend, serving the ball in slow-mo this time so Steve will have no excuses for missing it.

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