p • r • e • s • s • u • r • e

Burned Out

"Tony, it's dinnertime"

"Mm."

"Tony let's go."

"Hold on."

"Tony!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming! Jeez."

The engineer leaps up from his seat and tiredly wipes his hands on the napkin in front of him to join Bruce at the bottom of the stairs.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, Tony. Normal people eat three meals a day."

"Actually, one could argue that the majority of people-"

"Stark, shut up."

"Yes sir," he giggles, following Bruce up the staircase to the kitchen.

The team's lounged around the living room, a few boxes of pizza and a massive container of mozzarella sticks and steamed vegetables on the ottoman in the middle. Some are talking, while Wanda and Nat are watching a movie, the volume way down. Bruce drops a plate in his left hand and slaps a giant piece of pizza in front of him. "Eat," he says.

"Hey, Tony," Steve says, with arms draped across the back of the couch next to Bucky. Bruce sits on the sofa opposite them, and the engineer plops down next to him. Clint nods at them from the other side of our couch.

"How're you feeling, Tony?"

"I-"

His leg starts shaking a little, and he gets up briefly to sit criss-cross on the couch.

"I'm good. Just working on not using retroreflection panels on the quinjet."

He narrows his eyes accusingly at Bruce.

"What? Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong."

The scientist turns to face the three other avengers.

"Guys, don't you agree that the jet needs retroreflection panels?"

"Obviously."

"Yeah."

"Or, at least some sort of cloaking device."

Tony feels exasperated.

"Okay, fine! But not the panels."

"Why not?" Steve asks. "The Air Force uses-"

"Steve, I don't care what the Air Force uses. We're better than the Air Force."

The soldier raises an eyebrow and sips his bourbon.

"The Air Force would have made a decision already."

"Yeah-you've seen their bombers, right?"

Bucky interjects.

"Yes-and they're fine!"

"You aren't supposed to see them, that's the thing!"

The argument continues, until Bruce changes the subject.

The conversation drones on, and it's not nearly as controversial as their last.

Tony yawns. Borrring.

"I thought you liked pizza, Tony?" Clint asks.

His pizza sits untouched in his lap, and the engineer swallows dryly.

"I-I do. Yeah."

The archer raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

Tony takes a bite and chews thoughtfully, not really recognising the taste.