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[From the first moment the video is on, it's clear Reeve hasn't had NEARLY enough sleep. But isn't that just his way? Still, he looks positively exhausted today, and the video includes Mini-C pushing a cup of something steaming to Reeve's hand. The man doesn't even seem to notice as he lifts it and takes a hearty sip before starting.]

Good afternoon all. I would like to let everyone know that through the diligent work of several individuals here, power has been restored to a larger portion of the city. Please extend your thanks to Tony, Echo, and Cal for all their hard work.

[Reeve himself does not wish thanks. He just wishes to keep working.]

There have been some issues, of course. There are, as always, issues with breaks in the power supply network. Therefore we ask for your help and feedback. If there are buildings you are finding have issues with power supply, please advise me, or drop a physical message at the Restoration Committee building, just south east of the fountain. There are likely areas we still need to work on power lines to, and it will take time for us to survey to figure out where they are.

Also, I would like to offer myself as assistance to anyone whose ship currently lacks an engineer. I've been trying to do what I can for the damage in our crash landing, however I've only been able to deal with external issues on the ships I cannot access.

[Another long sip of his water.]

Of course, with water and power in a better place now than it was when we arrived, my question becomes what projects of comfort we might turn to here in Temba. Yes, I know our greater goal of returning home, but I find myself in need of projects.

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His coat? Wow. Reeve looks up and looks upset at that. His coat is very nice, Tony, don't tell him it's not.

"Tony," he says, his voice soft, tired because he's tired, and he looks a bit defeated, "metropolises are built on something. Materials I lack. Do you see cement here? Steel beams? A way for me to make them? It doesn't matter if you've seen Midgar through my eyes, I lack what it takes to make that here. I can't rebuild all of this because it's not possible."

The resources, the man power, the hours, they aren't there. He doesn't know what to do. He's lost now, Tony. He achieved his current goal and he lacks another right now, and he's not accepting an argument of 'change people's homes' argument.

"There are no resources."

"Reeve," Tony sighed back, a more impatient volley of a very different exhaustion, because it sounded to him like Reeve was committed to resenting himself for his own, fabricated limitations that Tony didn't see any evidence of. Reeve really needed something to direct that energy into. Or about fourteen hours out cold. As Reeve was lamenting his array of resources, Tony approached to collect the mug from him and push them both aside onto his desk for someone else to deal with later, then took Reeve by the front of that, yes, very silly coat to tug him encouragingly up onto his feet. "For the record, cement is very easy to make, and I'm not suggesting you re-envision the skyline, I'm just saying, everyone could use the assurance that the place they're keeping their head down is structurally sound and the pipes aren't going to burst. I'm pretty sure you can handle that. Now, do you want to punch me, or are you going to let me put you to bed?"

His coat is very striking and fashionable he will have you know. Silly man, for thinking anything less of it. And he wants to argue a lot of things. BUt mostly because the arguing keeps him awake and an awake Reeve is a Reeve that isn't having nightmares.

"Why would I punch you?" Reeve asks in confusion, though he does stand and does look a bit displeased to have his coat tugged at. He can't get a new one, Tony. Don't damage it.

Tony pursed his lips at that question, as if anyone needed a good reason, and smoothed the coat back down now that he had Reeve out of his seat. "You know, the Avengers..." he said, hand twisting to swing them back around to where they had started here. "The next best cure for insomnia is working it out on the mats. Allegedly. Wasn't really my thing, but I'd let Hawkeye throw me around for a bit, I can make the time." If Reeve needed some encouragement, though, Tony wasn't above giving a threatening tug to a button that Reeve seemed so defensive about.

"I'm not really good for hand to hand," Reeve admits. He does move forward. Tony, so foolish to think that getting Reeve to lay down would mean the man sleeping.

"Give me an automatic rifle and a target and I can be of use, or materia, but a punch? Not my style."

"You don't have to be good at it..." Tony started to argue, because Reeve didn't seem to be getting the point, but he could see how a shooting range could serve some of the same purposes. That was just something Tony wasn't prepared to provide, without a little warning and some allowance for modifications. Maybe that would be good to have on hand regardless, with Catra insisting on keeping her gun and Jon continually testing his aim under duress.

Snapping back to attention, Tony shook his head, no, this wouldn't do, and leaned in to provoke Reeve into getting it. The hold on his button threatened to break it clean from the fabric as Tony tugged Reeve into Tony's wicked, hot breath against his ear, close enough that Reeve would have to shove him away if he didn't want to fall back into the chair, "We could work up a sweat any way you like, sweetheart."

Getting what? Tony just is being weird. Reeve unbuttons his coat and shrugs out of it just to get free of Tony.

"You trying to get me killed, Stark?"

Because it seems like it.

Tony didn't think he had Reeve that convinced of Tony's lethality after joking around with him in the hangar, so he raised his eyebrows with some surprise as he was left holding the coat, then tossed it aside on the chair as he admitted, "Just excited." And he must have been close, judging by that 'Stark', unless Reeve thought they were just calling each other by names they didn't like.

It's not Tony's lethality he's worried about. It's the man's boyfriend who hates Reeve. Because this was a space Reeve wasn't ever supposed to be alone with Tony: his bedroom. With the coat tossed aside and the extra layer of barrier gone, he reaches his bed and takes the blanket up, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"I can't imagine what has you excited, my friend. Or perhaps giving you caffeine was a mistake."

"No--get you excited--god, you're impossible," Tony complained, and only had himself to blame for getting frustrated by Reeve's impenetrable unflappability. That was definitely not something he was learning for the first time. "Couldn't be the caffeine," he continued quickly, not a very convincing delivery, "I've got years of tolerance to break through for that." He would have had to have been without for a very long time for one little cup of coffee to have much of an effect, which did give Tony pause before he said with some wonder, "I have been here a very long time."

Which was a good enough segue for Tony to abruptly shake it off, back to his pushing to demand, "Doesn't that piss you off? I've seen seasons pass in this place, and we're still stuck here. Come on, hit me." He even untangled one of Reeve's hands from his fussing with the blanket to guide into a lamely ineffective tap against his chest.

He's not getting excited because again, he likes being intact, Tony. There is no value to excitement. But he sighs as he looks at Tony as the man takes his hand and manipulates it. Truly, he doesn't see the point to what the man is after here.

"Yes, I am disgruntled to be here. But what would striking you achieve? Nothing, Tony. Nothing at all. We've been here nigh on ten months, and if I have learned anything, it is that violence will get us nowhere."

So why fight? Why get angry? It's too much energy.

Once again, it seemed Tony had led Reeve to some kind of existential problem to solve instead of the microscopic one that Tony was intending, taking the energy out of Tony enough to have him drop his shoulders with a sigh of his own. It had become very clear that Tony was not supposed to be here to fix anything, leaving him rather adrift. He tugged the wrist he was still holding up over his shoulder, letting Reeve's bleak mood be his anchor for now instead of trying to drag it up with him, leaning in this time not with a smirk but to wrap Reeve in a hug.

The hug? The hug is what Tony should have started with. Because this was more soothing, more comforting than he could say. This felt great. He hummed contentedly in that embrace.

"Looks like you've learned how to comfort someone."

Tony huffed another sigh that could have been a laugh into Reeve's hair, not prepared to admit he was that bad at this kind of thing despite the evidence, but willing to get as far as, "I didn't know that was what we were doing." The hum was gratifying, though, making Tony hold Reeve a little tighter to make up for the delay before Tony had to ensure Reeve's expectations weren't set too high for Tony's future emotional support capacity. Muttered like he was sharing a secret, Tony asked, "Who did you murder to try and get us out of here?" Reeve did say he had learned that violence lesson, and Tony must have missed that class.

"Weren't you trying to help me sleep? Surely comfort is the best option when one is facing nightmares," Reeve points out. Come on, that's what he's been dealing with. And comfort in the form given now was the best he could ask for.

"Murder? What?"

As far as Tony knew, sleeping wasn't really the goal as much as overcoming the nightmare part, but that left him only tilting his head dubiously, not sure how to express the difference in goals and, really, ultimately the effect was the same, and he didn't want to get into that argument when it sounded like Reeve would win it. Instead, he pointed out, "You could have just asked," before slipping gingerly away, hands on Reeve's sides until Tony could be sure Reeve was sufficiently comforted, or whatever. Every signal Reeve had been giving Tony was for Tony to keep his distance, after all.

"The violence thing," he didn't think he'd have to explain, rolling his eyes to try to knit the words back together instead of making the leap he clearly had. "You said you learned violence got us nowhere, like you had started here ready to throw down, which I haven't seen nearly enough of, honestly, that would be a way easier solution, if I could just deck the whole concept of this place."

"No, not here. I am hardly equipped for force here. It's more... a life lesson," Reeve admits. Something he brought with him from home, where sometimes force was needed. But use of force only begot more use of force.

It was with kindness and open arms that the world was truly changed.

Avoiding a direct assault was regularly a luxury that even Tony couldn't afford, but he would much rather he was the one shouldering that burden than Reeve, whose face Tony cradled in both hands to respond with a kiss of encouragement to his forehead. Not that working through the nightmare sweats by wrestling with Tony was nearly the same as ending wars, but Tony appreciated Reeve's lofty principles and wasn't about to argue him down into the mud with himself just to explain his intentions. "What else do you have to teach me, Mr. Tuesti?" he asked with a wry smile, since he was learning so much about problem solving and comfort.

"Taking care of yourself. But I'm a horrible teacher and I expect you do not wish to learn it," Reeve offers. He pulls away from those hands, from that kiss. Better not to think about it.

"I believe I shall go see myself to a walk, hopefully that will help me rest."

"I can take care of myself. I even know how to do laundry," Tony protested, though was prepared to dazzle his way out of the pursuit of any normal, household chores he may or may not have had the first grasp on. The retreat and obvious dismissal had Tony tucking his hands into his pockets instead of doing any dazzling however, tipping his head toward his shrugging shoulder in casual acceptance, not sure if he had served his purpose or proven to Reeve that asking him over was a mistake. "Don't push yourself too hard," he suggested, as though saying it any other way had been the least bit effective so far, and waved Reeve on to escort him to the door while plucking up the jacket once more to offer as they went.

"Emotionally, Tony, you don't seem to," Reeve counters.

He smiled happily at Tony. It was more help than the man realized. Reeve lets Tony walk him to the door, his expression soft.

"You are a very good friend, Tony. I think the people who know you back home are very lucky. And I am glad for Jon. Someone like you, so sweet and giving, are good for him."

That wasn't the meanest thing anyone had said to Tony with a smile, but Tony did find it difficult to smile back at to conceal the frown of concern for whatever he had done to deserve it now. He was supposed to be here taking care of Reeve, he hadn't come prepared for the scrutiny. Not that Tony found Reeve's generous kindness any easier to handle, glad to have the distraction of the coat to help Reeve into so he wasn't cold in the chill outside.

"Thanks. That means a lot, from you," he tried, as sincerely as he could manage while up against the itching awareness that he wasn't at all that good for any of them, and the best he had to offer Jon was the confidence to find himself someone who was capable of understanding him. But it was hard not to believe Reeve at least a little bit, when he smiled like that.

Reeve wasn't wrong, and surely Tony had to know that. Tony didn't love himself, this was a concern Reeve had raised before. But he had no obligation to take Reeve's opinion at all.

"From me? Tony, I can't see how my opinion should matter at all. But I thank you for finding some value in it. And I continue to wish you well. Both of you. Both of you seem to be such..."

What is the word he would use here? Honestly, he thinks Tony might be offended at the comparison he would make, which was to Cloud in many ways.

"Driven men," he decides at last. He knows how unsatisfying it can be to be a driven man.

Mostly, Tony didn't appreciate how ineffective any of his egotistical posturing had been on Reeve if he still managed to come to this conclusion, making him wary of what Reeve was going to say as he gathered his thoughts and incrementally drawing stiffly back until he was snorting a laugh of surprise for what Reeve came up with. Not that Tony would say this was a necessarily wrong assessment, either, but it did give him the opportunity to sing childishly, "Takes one to know one." It wasn't like Tony had come over here because Reeve just wasn't motivated enough.

What? Reeve finds himself laughing.

"I may be driven, but in a whole different way."

He makes sure his coat is tight around him before seeping outside and gesturing for the other to follow him.

"Allow me to guide you to where you are going for the night. Home, or to Jon, or your ship."

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