11010/Surviving Infinity: We Made It

Surviving Infinity: We Made It
Date of Scene:	07 February 2020
Location:	Avengers Medical
Synopsis:	Tony and Steve are healing, despite their attempts to wander around.
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Iron Man
Tinyplot:	Surviving Infinity

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Captain America has posed:
The sun's set on another quiet day in the medbay. Steve, still putting away the calories and on a rigorous course of antibiotics to finish off the rest of the space-based nasties, has finally given up on trying to do some belated work on the laptop now stashed atop one of the side tables. The screen is black and the Captain's leaned back into the mounding of pillows. He breathes without any oxygen tubes or IVs stuck into him.

With a wrinkle of his nose and some mumbling, he kicks the blankets off his feet before falling back into REM. Steve sleeps deeply when he puts his mind to it. Janet left the radio on low in the corner, its outer casing styled back to the 1940s, a relic from Steve's own Brooklyn-based apartment. It's playing some quiet smooth jazz, a white noise easy to ignore when one's recovering still.

Iron Man has posed:
Suddenly the lights are on to full, and Tony's voice is broadcasting top announcer volume. The conversation was had partially in the hallway between the other medical room and Steve's, and the last of it is a burst of snark.

"Your proctologist called, Pym. He found your head," Tony sasses without turning.

Tony walks calmly enough into Steve's room, directing the person with him - Happy - by pointing at the foot of Steve's bed. "Just put them anywhere," Tony suggests. Happy is carrying two bulky bags of food, and three milkshakes balanced on a brown drink tray. The scent is very clearly burgers and fries.

"You're a vanilla kind of guy, am I right, sir?" Happy asks of Steve kindly, offering him one of the milkshakes by turning the corner of the tray with the appropriate one towards him, and then looking uncertain about actually putting the food down where Tony indicated: since that would be right on top of Steve's legs.

Tony is dressed like he's been sick as hell, and has a pallor to his skin from it. He's wearing a short sleeve t-shirt that doesn't mask his arc reactor at all, and comfy royal blue lounge pants, the ties undone and loose. He also has an IV in, attached to a little floating drone that is keeping him company just back off his left shoulder. He starts to drag a chair towards the end of Steve's bed, presumably where the food will be. He gives Happy an expectant little sideways look, as if insulted his orders were not being followed, and Happy rapidly starts to put things down where Tony designated.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's feet kick up in surprise and he literally has a pillow up and ready to be thrown like some demented, feather-stuffed, ballistic missile by the time he realizes it's not some drill or HYDRA infringing on his nap time.

Still wincing at the sudden intensity of the light, he places the pillow back into place with a few grumpy shoves before leaning back into the re-fluffed collection behind his spine. "Hi, Happy," the Captain manages with sleep rasping up his voice. Clearing his throat, he replies, "Vanilla is fine, thank you." Reaching out, he relieves the tray of the milkshake and sets it on his stomach, still held, while he watches Tony situate himself.

That the food ends up on his legs doesn't seem to bother him overmuch in the end. After all, the burgers and fries are starting to smell heavenly with their olfactory slap of grease and calories. His stomach gurgles to bely his patently patient expression. "Couldn't resist the siren call of a cheeseburger at..." Steve peers towards the nearest clock. "This late at night, huh?"

Iron Man has posed:
"So that's why we don't leave your shield by your bed," Tony observes of the pillow. He laughs, which dissolves into deep coughs that belay how unhealthy he still is. He has not beaten the space-flu entirely yet. He slumps back in his chair, though, hooking his foot onto a second one, and drags it with his foot to be used as a footrest.

Happy, meanwhile, pulls out the chocolate shake for Tony, putting it between the medical railing and the bed containing Steve Feet, and then puts his attention on his boss, standing there with the last shake on the tray.

"I'm not famed for resisting my vices," Tony says with one hand pressed over his eyes, recovering from the coughing spasms. "Go on, Happy; no need to infect you. Try to annoy Pym on your way out, if possible," Tony says, and Happy lifts his own strawberry shake from the tray, flashes a very friendly smile at Steve, and exits.

Tony reaches out and recovers a burger, and then a tray of fries, which he pulls towards himself on Steve's bed. "I'm involving you in this vice. Deal."

Captain America has posed:
The sass, even needing to be interspersed between those deep and wracking coughs, is reassuring. Steve sips deeply at his vanilla milkshake and finds it not only delicious, but somehow soothing in the manner of a favorite pair of socks or an old song heard long ago to be remembered in lyrics down to the last word. He briefly blnks off to a memory of a soda parlor in Brooklyn before reality reminds him that there are fries to eat.

Well, his stomach and nose do, rather.

Happy gets a quiet murmur of gratitude before the super-soldier looks to Tony with a small smile. "'m honored you thought to include me, Tony, thank you. Much better'n slugs," he says as he plucks a burger from the bag. "Miles and miles and depths better'n slugs." The first bite has the Captain making a quiet sound of enjoyment and he then laughs despite himself, needing to cover his mouth. It's amusement based purely in delight. "Pinch me, it's real food 'nd not protein shakes," he manages around his cheekful of burger.

Iron Man has posed:
"You get protein shakes?" Tony says, with a new indignant expression. He then smirks and lifts a shoulder, "Not that my gruel is the only thing I've been eating. I have people." Such as Happy, clearly.

"Next time, I want Dr. Banner. Just so we're clear," Tony designates, eating his fries with the air of someone that probably recently had fries. It's not a godsend to Tony. This may just be the first time he was mobile enough to share anything.

"You been wandering around?" Tony asks, with a thump of heel of hand against Steve's foot. "I'll make you an I-VOD if you want one," Tony says, pointing a fry at his hovering little IV assistant. "Intravenous Operations Drone," Tony explains without any inflection. Maybe a little. He does love naming inventions.

Captain America has posed:
"You can have Banner next time," Steve agrees after swallowing another bite chewed perhaps less than his normal wont. It tastes delicious and his stomach wants it NOW. "Don't mind dealing with Pym."

He glances up from admiring the grease on the burger's semi-pinked innards when his foot is lightly popped. Oh: the blanket is still up around his ankles, right. "Been wandering around the medbay, yeah, but not beyond it. Freedom's close enough, figure it's not worth the risk to have a flare-up or something. Only a few more pills to take. Been off an IV for a few days now," he explains with something like a flicker of empathy for the genius-inventor attended by his hovering assistant.

"Janet's good about checking in 'nd bringing in news or little things to keep me busy." A thumb is gestured towards the laptop with its dark screen. "Tried catching up on emails. It's impossible."

Iron Man has posed:
"You and your cheater powers out of a bottle," Tony snorts with a shake of his head, and another hollow cough, stopping in his eating to deal with that, then resume. "Space-flu and Stark are not a good mix, we've learned, for the next time. Pym thinks it's uncooked slug bits. So even more 'no' on the slugs."

Tony doesn't show any reaction to the empathy: he may not have seen it, or it may not have been taken in as anything. Tony often filters things through the 'shameless' filter anyway.

"Which I propose we don't bring up while we're eating," Tony adds. He's still eating, but has slowed way down: his body can't take a heavy dose of this food, even if he's pretending he's great, and did this little parade as if to prove it.

Or probably Tony was bored.

Or something else?

"Eh, have JARVIS summarize the emails," Tony says, yawning, and sitting back with the remains of his fries and his mostly-full shake.

Captain America has posed:
In his own brand of shamelessness, the Captain sucks off his fingertips rather than using the cluster of napkins he then plucks out of the bag. There's a moment where he pauses, looking down at another of the cheeseburgers, and then with a rueful sigh, he too only wipes off any remaining grease. Another cheeseburger might be pushing it even for the super-soldier with the impossible garbage gut.

Those fries, however: a white paper container of these he plucks for himself.

"No more terrible space food," Steve agrees mildly before throwing a single fry past his lips. "'nd it's tempting to have JARVIS work through 'em, but I want to see for myself. I'll ask him when I get tired though."

Still eating a fry at a time rather than a bouquet at a time, he gives Tony one of those looks both penetrating and reserved. Tony's seen these a lot of times over the years; it's his teammate wondering what's going on inside that squirrely mind. In this instance, hazarding it appropriate, Steve asks: "What's on your mind, Tony?"

Iron Man has posed:
"What, something needs to be on my mind?" Tony asks, looping a glance to Steve with a smirk. There's no evade there: not really. "The side benefit to the I-VOD would be medication," Tony adds slyly, like an aside. As if that would matter: Tony is highly functional on all kinds of state-altering substances.

"We've got our kidnapper in containment. We'll need to sort that out. And if she's the first of many. And the stones themselves: do we believe Thor gave one to a truly safe place, and where's the Tesseract..." Tony trails off, because his voice is raw and shot. He clears it ineffectively and frowns, drinking his milkshake instead.

"Barely anything on my mind," Tony croaks.

Captain America has posed:
That initial Tony smirk is parried with a knowing squint and faint smile. His eyes flick to the I-VOD machine and to its tubing, disappearing down to insert like an anchor-line from tanker to tug-boat.

"Barely anything on your mind," agrees Steve in that tone of tolerance he takes now and then with his teammate. Back his true-blues slide to land on Tony again. "Lots on my mind too. You named the majority of it." His chest rises and falls beneath the bathrobe Janet brough in lieu of a more flimsy hospital gown. Seeming to come to some decision, he sets aside both milkshake and half-finished container of fries on the laptop-free side table.

"How about we talk more in your room, Tony? It'll give me a breather from recounting the amounts of tiles on the ceiling, be a new atmosphere. Bet you have all of the fun toys," he quips even as he begins extricating himself from beneath the bedding. "Come on, we'll walk back. It'll be good for our limbs. I'll bring the fries, you leave the burgers with me?"

Iron Man has posed:
Tony shrugs, tossing a rolled up napkin onto one of the bags, and slowly stands up. There's a quality of it being due to being lightheaded: it's a very very familiar looking behavior with Tony: he does it all the time when he's had a lot of drinks.

"Nah, keep the food. I'm the one with the steady import of sustinence," Tony comments. He does stand on his own: after all, he did make it into Steve's room without trouble.

"You'd think I'd have all the fun toys, but they keep being taken away when I'm asleep," Tony growls. "That said, I'm all for getting you in trouble with Pym. Let's do it." Tony heads out of the room without really waiting, slurping on his milkshake.

Captain America has posed:
Laughing softly to himself at the idea of Pym being mad at him -- him, of all people! -- Steve does indeed leave the food behind. No one's going to show up in his room and remove it after all, not if he turns a look of truly-pitiful baby-blues on them. He's glad to be on his feet, even if there are hospital slipper on his feet and not his own tucked beneath the bed in his own bedroom. He's quick enough to catch up to Tony outside in the hallway and just as quick to slow down to walk beside him.

Hands stuffed into the blue bathrobe's pockets, the super-soldier walks for a few steps in quiet. "Janet's been dealing with Mikonia. Said she's dealing with a bad infestation of ticks right now. I volunteered the idea of a sudden appearance of seven-year cicadas in the walls," he notes with an angelic side-glance towards Tony.

Iron Man has posed:
"I have some space-flu she's welcome to have," Tony says peevishly. "And can find some choice Slugs for her to try to chew," he continues, with a resolute drink of his milkshake. Tony turns the corner back into his own room. It is, in fact, loaded with toys. How he could possibly suggest his toys were taken away might be rather ludicrous.

"I still have my VR," Tony observes, as if he still had access to his socks at the very least. He addresses the room as he heads back to sit on his medical bed, "Uhhh, let's do Maui, JARVIS."

"Immediately, sir," answers the voice of JARVIS.

The half of the room near the bed melts into a beachfront virtual reality scene. There are a LOT of women in bikinis on the beach around them. Tony yawns and settles with his milkshake. There's a few chairs near his bed: clearly from visitors, and a cot nearby with some Pepper belongings on it. Tony hasn't been alone.

Captain America has posed:
Those...are a lot of women in bikinis. With some pink at the tips of his ears, Steve does elect to settle into one of the chairs nearby the bed with a quiet grunt. His stomach isn't fully appreciating the burger, but he's mulish about it staying down. It tasted like heaven after the protein shakes for days upon days.

At least no one had offered him Jello.

He stretches out one leg beyond and into the gurney-bed's shadow while keeping the other bent. His hands end up interlaced across his stomach and he gives the VR setting of a tropical sun a long and contemplative look.

Finally, he speaks again, still quietly. "Janet can probably figure out slugs too. Slugs 'nd cicadas. It's a plan, Tony." Turns out that his volume is due to a sudden urge to get back to sleep, what with the lump of burger settling in his stomach. His eyelids begin to slump in drowsiness unhelped. "For now, let's just pretend it's time to recuperate 'nd deal with the rest of the bunk later...b'cause it's not going anywhere...not with...slugs 'nd...cicadas involved."

About a minute later, Steve's head is back in the comfortable chair and he's asleep. Poor Tony. What else is there lef to do but rest and think of quips about Steve's old-man sleeping habits. At least the genius-inventor has company.