"Twenty seconds to initiation," comes over the comms and Steve thinks he’s going to vibrate out of his skin, nevermind the suit. His breathing is tight and he can’t, he can’t look over at Tony, who is three meters to his right.
You two are the only ones who can do it, Fury had told them, and Steve does his duty, he’s a good soldier and he’d gladly sacrifice himself in a Jager without a second thought, but god, why did it have to be Tony?
He assures himself Tony won’t have time to react, won’t get to do much more than look at Steve with- with pity or betrayal or god forbid disgust, because they’re being flown towards a kaiju as they speak and they’ll be too busy taking it down to discuss anything other than fighting tactics.
Not that they’ll need to talk about them, because they’ll be able to read them before either of them starts to throw a punch. Because they’ll be in each other’s heads, swamped in their memories, knowing every inch of-
"Ten seconds," Bruce says over the comm, and Steve lets out a breath.
"Steve," Tony says, too fast, and Steve looks over at him. He doesn’t know why Tony’s bothering- whatever he’s going to say, Steve is going to know in a couple of seconds.
Tony hesitates. This is no time for it. “Just- no matter what you see in my head, promise me things will be the same after we get back.”
Steve isn’t too sure of that, but he says, “Sure,” anyway, and Bruce is counting down, and Steve takes another breath in, and Bruce says, “One,” and there’s the dizzying rush Steve hasn’t felt in years, and Tony’s-