Though he’s not about to say what he actually thinks, Tony does agree that there should be more pin-ups. Steve is from the era of the perfect girl with the fullest of figures and the softest of skin, rosy cheeks and most well kept hair. Tony has had his fun alone with pin-ups, same as any boy stuck in a boarding school. He’s also had his share of fun with those other boys too. There’d been little choice about that, when you’re lonely and that’s all there is. Sexuality needs an outlet. Ask a fair portion of prisoners and they’ll tell you the same.

Tony resumes what he’s been doing, pulling strands of dark hair between his fingers to snip the ends at an angle. He sees the exercise in geometry, measuring angles by sight and determining the best place to make the cut by calculations entering and exiting various parts of his brain at once.

He’s not a barber. But he’s going to do a damned good job. Steve just needs to wait and see.

“The guy I grew up thinking I knew was pious and never did anything wrong other than lie a bunch of times to enlisting officers. The guy I’ve known has always been Captain America and you yourself just said you’ve let us all know you as that. So yeah. I want to know the nail polish in your ear story. Give me some dirt in case I ever have to give a eulogy. You’ve got plenty of stuff on me.”