i always had a feeling you would show [bete noire]

[myheartglows]

The moment the house's invisible scanners registered an aware consciousness, JARVIS's protocols kicked in and he greeted Steve to the day of light: "Good morning, Captain Rogers. The date is Friday, October 7th. The temperature outside is 61 degrees with a humidity of..." He droned on through the rest, like nothing had changed, like he had never been disconnected from his conversation patterns or audio responses for the past five months.

Should Steve follow, perhaps, his instincts, or a simple word from JARVIS when prompted, he'd find himself barreling past the curving white halls and occasional hanging vine from potted plants, the bright light of repeating windows shining across hard floors in a space far too big for only one person, the sleekness of modern furniture and the cool earth tones that so contrasted against the vibrancy of the house's original owner, who -- who, as Steve could find out, sat downstairs in the workshop, long since locked, in the dark. (The workshop which had been shut down, vacant, motionless, eerie in contrast to the constant movement of before, when holograms flew through the air and the robots rolled around and always something, something was always going on, even when Tony had been sleeping: ready lights flickering on computer towers in the darkness (he never shut them down) and the steady hum of machinery lying in wait, in wait, waiting for--)

The lights were off. Tony sat in the recliner, hunched over, head hanging, one hand buried in his hair with his forehead on his palm. His back partly faced the workshop door, the thin windows through the basement buttresses enough to reveal him, and when Steve reached the keypad to punch in his access code, which would still work (of course, he had to pass through it every time he wanted to take the motorcycle out of the garage, and every time he wanted to come in through it, past all that black deadness in the shop), Tony's voice sounded out through the intercom on the wall next to it, hollow: "Guess the city wasn't ready to let me go, after all."

Comments

[myheartglows]

"You're such a gentleman," Tony said as he hefted himself up and under the rope and bee-lined toward what was, while unsaid, considered "his" corner, opposite of where Steve generally started. He popped in the mouth-guard he stored in a container there and shifted his teeth until it settled neatly in. Using it meant he predicted, or intended for, the sparring to get messy.

[backin_theworld]

Steve, as always, went without reacting; instead followed Tony with his eyes until he was in his corner. He popped his own mouth-guard in and punched his fists together in a gesture to show he was ready.

He always gave Tony the first punch.

[myheartglows]

Tony gave him an almost-imperceptible nod. He shifted his feet into the fighting stance and rose his fists, gauging the best way to attack, lower his target's defense and strike a weak point: those months of sparring hadn't been for nothing, and now he had Happy's teachings from home, too.

Happy. Home.

Pepper.

His fists tightening unconsciously, Tony darted forward to the right in a feint, but then spun to the left and reared back his elbow to deliver a concentrated, quick jab at Steve's collarbone.

[backin_theworld]

It had been awhile since he fought with the other man, but not enough time to forget the reason behind these bouts. He taught Tony to channel his anger with the fighting; let him take it out on someone in a safe place, with a person who he knew.

But, in the months since Tony had disappeared, Steve found his own anger and bitterness grow.

The hit caught him off guard. That was dirty, and definitely something he didn't teach him. Though, immediately following his move, Steve took the opportunity on the return to use his left to clip the corner of his opponent's jaw.

[myheartglows]

A forearm, the same that jabbed, and a duck of Tony's head blocked the blow; his basic stance had changed, albeit subtly, to keep his arms closer in to his body when he sparred, a boxer protecting his front. Steve's teachings were still obvious, though, the foundation -- but Tony, as ever, put his own spin on things: the dirty elbow jab was from his own mind entirely. His free fist hooked right across Steve's jaw as well, not for power but to keep his partner off-balance.

[backin_theworld]

Ah, something had changed here, which took a few hits to realize. Tony was going for the shoulders up. At the contact with his jaw, Steve used a blind uppercut catching Tony in the stomach before bouncing back to create a bit of space between them. His opponent would have to take a step in to catch him again, making any move easier to anticipate.

[myheartglows]

The stomach punch caught Tony by surprise, and it knocked the breath briefly out of him, enough for him to close his eyes for just a second -- but in that second, he forgot whom he was sparring against and thought C'mon, Happy, that's the kind of dirty thing I'd do, before he opened his eyes and remembered: not Happy, not boxing, it was fair game.

Tony's face fell (again, another second) before it set into a blank focus, and his stance changed again, back to more of what STeve had taught him, of what Tony had learned from here in Bete Noire; his arms lowered to chest level and when he dashed forward he kept his upper back back and swept his foot into Steve's knee. It'd never knock the Captain down, but the intent was there, taught by Steve and to be applied against a more movable target.

[backin_theworld]

In his own thoughts; caustic ones of being in a place where that had taken him to parts of himself he refused to believe were ever there, Steve thought he was prepared for another dirty move.

Steve felt the pressure on the outside of his knee, causing it to buckle a bit. He leaned back on his left before throwing a lazy right hook.

[myheartglows]

Tony leaned to the right to avoid it, raising his left elbow at the same time to knock Steve's punch up and away from his body just enough for Tony to sneak in a stomach punch of his own with his right. Thought had no room here; it was action and reaction. If Tony could think beyond his next move, he might realize that this was Steve's way of offering comfort: the equivalent of River crawling into his bedside after a nightmare.