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Chaos and Dancing Stars 8/?
Sep. 16th, 2017 01:13 amvia http://ift.tt/2juFcDG:
Tiny update this time.
Chapters 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
Tony watched Steve’s face get more and more drawn as they filled out forms that, in an ideal world, Steve would have had on file for years. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and scrawled his signature in the air with a shaky finger. It glowed on the signature line for a moment before resolving in strong black lines. The date popped up automatically, and a red box appeared around the signature to certify it.
“Why I do feel like you’re about to steal my voice and send me stumbling into a strange world?” Steve asked. He slouched down in his stool and glowered at Tony.
Tony laughed, and then hastily swallowed it when Steve’s expression started to turn from ‘annoyed cat’ to ‘murderous.’ He held up both hands. “I’m not making you do anything,” he pointed out, partially to lighten the mood, and partially to give Steve yet another out. Tony had wanted to just hand Steve a tablet with his consent forms pre-loaded and high-tail it, but Steve had looked so lost and overwhelmed, that Tony had remained.
Tony had been thirteen when he’d filled out his first prior-consent form. Although that had just been the standard ‘omega-minor, no consent given’ form, he’d been left to muddle through it alone, and had nearly been in tears by the end of it out of sheer frustration. It never helped that most omegas found themselves filling out their forms when their hormones were already starting to go mad, and Tony had found it an especially dysphoria-inducing experience, even though he hadn’t realized exactly why.
Maybe he should have called Bruce back.
Steve did not respond to him, he just hunched down further until it really did look like he was ready to pounce across the table, and let out a growl when Jarvis brought up the next form.
“Okay,” Tony said, “I think we have the immediate, emergency consent things done, right, J?”
“Indeed,” Jarvis answered placidly.
“Right. We’re not doing anything crazy, no lasting contracts involved, so you can be done if you want to, Steve.”
Without a word, Steve shot out of his stool. It clattered on the ground behind him, the sound echoing loudly in the otherwise silently lab space. Tony winced, but Steve didn’t even look back at the noise. He made a beeline for the stairwell and slammed through the door.
“Huh,” Tony said, tilting his head. “The last two weeks make more sense now.”
(read more)
Steve had always had a tiny-little-itty-bitty temper control problem off the battlefield, but he’d been more apt to snap and slam doors lately than usual. Tony had put it down to stress from their more recent engagements, the fight he’d gotten into with Bucky, and how long it had been since they’d had any real time off. Those things probably hadn’t helped, but Tony could still remember how tight and ready to snap he’d been in the weeks leading up to heat. Considering some of the tantrums Tony had thrown in his teenage years, Steve had been holding up very well.
“I’m just going to go shower,” Tony decided after a few moments of staring at the closed door. He sniffed one underarm and made a face. The day on the couch with a very warm Steve hadn’t done great things for him to begin with, but the interrupter had the unfortunate side effect of very sour smelling sweat. “Definitely to the shower.”
“That might be wise,” Jarvis commented.
Tony pointed a finger vaguely upward. “No one asked you.”
“Perish the thought.”
With the atmosensors, Jarvis could ‘smell’ the air, but Tony wasn’t about to give him any encouragement on commenting, or he’d never hear the end of it the next time he lit an aromatherapy candle. Tony slid out of his stool and took a moment to set Steve’s back on its feet. He considered the stairs – working off some energy wouldn’t be a bad thing – but opted for the elevator on the off chance that Steve was working off his own aggression by running up and down the tower. He hated interrupters. He was both worn out and tight with anxious energy, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to curl up and sleep for a few days, or take a page out of Clint’s book and repel down the outside of the tower.
“Shower first,” he reminded himself in a low murmur. He yawned, but then said, “Maybe I’ll go do some aerial loops.”
“Perhaps it would be better to stay near the tower?” Jarvis asked.
Tony made a frustrated noise deep in his throat as he realized that he was effectively grounded. They had no baseline to guess at how fast Steve would go through the pre-heat stages, and even if Tony extrapolated based on his recent behavior, he had no way of knowing how the interrupter would affect his cycle. Steve was unlikely to tolerate Tony in his space until he was ready to hibernate again, and that might take hours, or weeks.
“If I may make suggestion,” Jarvis said, but he didn’t wait for permission before continuing, “I do believe your accountant has been trying to set an appointment with you for the last six months.”
Tony dropped his head sharply backwards to clunk against the elevator wall. He groaned.
“I will contact Mr. Vaneye and set up the appointment.”
The elevator pinged open on his suite, and he considered the window for several long moments while Jarvis patiently held the doors open. Repelling down the side of the building was sounding better and better by the second.
(Your picture was not posted)
Tiny update this time.
Chapters 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
Tony watched Steve’s face get more and more drawn as they filled out forms that, in an ideal world, Steve would have had on file for years. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and scrawled his signature in the air with a shaky finger. It glowed on the signature line for a moment before resolving in strong black lines. The date popped up automatically, and a red box appeared around the signature to certify it.
“Why I do feel like you’re about to steal my voice and send me stumbling into a strange world?” Steve asked. He slouched down in his stool and glowered at Tony.
Tony laughed, and then hastily swallowed it when Steve’s expression started to turn from ‘annoyed cat’ to ‘murderous.’ He held up both hands. “I’m not making you do anything,” he pointed out, partially to lighten the mood, and partially to give Steve yet another out. Tony had wanted to just hand Steve a tablet with his consent forms pre-loaded and high-tail it, but Steve had looked so lost and overwhelmed, that Tony had remained.
Tony had been thirteen when he’d filled out his first prior-consent form. Although that had just been the standard ‘omega-minor, no consent given’ form, he’d been left to muddle through it alone, and had nearly been in tears by the end of it out of sheer frustration. It never helped that most omegas found themselves filling out their forms when their hormones were already starting to go mad, and Tony had found it an especially dysphoria-inducing experience, even though he hadn’t realized exactly why.
Maybe he should have called Bruce back.
Steve did not respond to him, he just hunched down further until it really did look like he was ready to pounce across the table, and let out a growl when Jarvis brought up the next form.
“Okay,” Tony said, “I think we have the immediate, emergency consent things done, right, J?”
“Indeed,” Jarvis answered placidly.
“Right. We’re not doing anything crazy, no lasting contracts involved, so you can be done if you want to, Steve.”
Without a word, Steve shot out of his stool. It clattered on the ground behind him, the sound echoing loudly in the otherwise silently lab space. Tony winced, but Steve didn’t even look back at the noise. He made a beeline for the stairwell and slammed through the door.
“Huh,” Tony said, tilting his head. “The last two weeks make more sense now.”
(read more)
Steve had always had a tiny-little-itty-bitty temper control problem off the battlefield, but he’d been more apt to snap and slam doors lately than usual. Tony had put it down to stress from their more recent engagements, the fight he’d gotten into with Bucky, and how long it had been since they’d had any real time off. Those things probably hadn’t helped, but Tony could still remember how tight and ready to snap he’d been in the weeks leading up to heat. Considering some of the tantrums Tony had thrown in his teenage years, Steve had been holding up very well.
“I’m just going to go shower,” Tony decided after a few moments of staring at the closed door. He sniffed one underarm and made a face. The day on the couch with a very warm Steve hadn’t done great things for him to begin with, but the interrupter had the unfortunate side effect of very sour smelling sweat. “Definitely to the shower.”
“That might be wise,” Jarvis commented.
Tony pointed a finger vaguely upward. “No one asked you.”
“Perish the thought.”
With the atmosensors, Jarvis could ‘smell’ the air, but Tony wasn’t about to give him any encouragement on commenting, or he’d never hear the end of it the next time he lit an aromatherapy candle. Tony slid out of his stool and took a moment to set Steve’s back on its feet. He considered the stairs – working off some energy wouldn’t be a bad thing – but opted for the elevator on the off chance that Steve was working off his own aggression by running up and down the tower. He hated interrupters. He was both worn out and tight with anxious energy, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to curl up and sleep for a few days, or take a page out of Clint’s book and repel down the outside of the tower.
“Shower first,” he reminded himself in a low murmur. He yawned, but then said, “Maybe I’ll go do some aerial loops.”
“Perhaps it would be better to stay near the tower?” Jarvis asked.
Tony made a frustrated noise deep in his throat as he realized that he was effectively grounded. They had no baseline to guess at how fast Steve would go through the pre-heat stages, and even if Tony extrapolated based on his recent behavior, he had no way of knowing how the interrupter would affect his cycle. Steve was unlikely to tolerate Tony in his space until he was ready to hibernate again, and that might take hours, or weeks.
“If I may make suggestion,” Jarvis said, but he didn’t wait for permission before continuing, “I do believe your accountant has been trying to set an appointment with you for the last six months.”
Tony dropped his head sharply backwards to clunk against the elevator wall. He groaned.
“I will contact Mr. Vaneye and set up the appointment.”
The elevator pinged open on his suite, and he considered the window for several long moments while Jarvis patiently held the doors open. Repelling down the side of the building was sounding better and better by the second.
(Your picture was not posted)
