At Howard?

“What did my dad do to you? Give you a tiny girl-waist?” Well, Steve Rogers is pretty disproportionate. He’s all shoulders and long legs and a waist that Tony is pretty sure he can get his arms cleanly around so that his hands can cup his elbows. It’s silly to picture it. He’d probably look like a kid hugging an adult, so much shorter he is.

And maybe he’d like to eventually give Steve a shot at that hug. On his own terms. He’s not sure how else he’d manage to get over the anxiety he feels to have Steve approach him.

It’s embarrassing. He shouldn’t be flinching away from a thirty-something. He’s Iron Man.

And Steve Rogers likes Iron Man.

Surprised to hear that the blond liked the bobble head, drunk-mind Tony isn’t quite able to zero in on one topic and still process others. Drunk, he’s a lot like everyone else. Just still a lot richer and more handsome and smarter than the rest. But closer, a lot closer to other people.

He has to hold up his hand to collect his thoughts. “I’ll get you a new bobble head but please, tell me all the shit dad did. In detail.”