[Steve seems to be going through something and Tony's a bit too addled to really understand what. But it's something enough, and he reaches an uncoordinated hand up, tips of his fingers tracing the line of Steve's jaw and then clumsily trying to hold the side of his face. It was a joke- haha funny. But that's often how he cloaks his trauma, the things that have sat in his chest after burrowing there despite his wishes. Yes, he carries these things with him. Always. More so because he never does work to undo any of them. Letting them harden his exterior-
But it's less that. He and Steve are far over that hump. He's so in love with the man he barely knows what to do with himself most of the time they're together. Can't imagine a life where they're not like this and less like that. The version of himself that he's joking about.
His arm flops back down towards the bed outstretched, and his brow arches, soft smile tugging at his lips when Steve presses there. He's moving again then, same arm that had just crash-landed back to the bed lifting, wobbly, so he can take Steve's hand and hold it against the side of his face instead.]
And everything about you is definitely more special than what came out of a bottle.
[That sounds right enough. Not that he's got enough of a filter to recalibrate sentences properly. But if they're in the middle of correcting their very earliest misgivings, he wants to play his part too.]
Also at this point- it's you- definitely. If anyone can judge me. So. You're wrong about that. You're always on the right side of everything. You're better. What you say goes.
[Lifting his hand yet again, as always unable to remain still even when inebriated, he gives one of those mock two fingered salutes and a sunnier smile. But this he means, too. Steve's the best out of all of them, not that he likes any of the Avengers less. But Steve's his north star, sometimes his moral compass, and, yes, generally always right. Much as Tony purports to be. And to Tony, he'll always be the better man of the two of them.]
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But it's less that. He and Steve are far over that hump. He's so in love with the man he barely knows what to do with himself most of the time they're together. Can't imagine a life where they're not like this and less like that. The version of himself that he's joking about.
His arm flops back down towards the bed outstretched, and his brow arches, soft smile tugging at his lips when Steve presses there. He's moving again then, same arm that had just crash-landed back to the bed lifting, wobbly, so he can take Steve's hand and hold it against the side of his face instead.]
And everything about you is definitely more special than what came out of a bottle.
[That sounds right enough. Not that he's got enough of a filter to recalibrate sentences properly. But if they're in the middle of correcting their very earliest misgivings, he wants to play his part too.]
Also at this point- it's you- definitely. If anyone can judge me. So. You're wrong about that. You're always on the right side of everything. You're better. What you say goes.
[Lifting his hand yet again, as always unable to remain still even when inebriated, he gives one of those mock two fingered salutes and a sunnier smile. But this he means, too. Steve's the best out of all of them, not that he likes any of the Avengers less. But Steve's his north star, sometimes his moral compass, and, yes, generally always right. Much as Tony purports to be. And to Tony, he'll always be the better man of the two of them.]