Steve isn't sure what the first part of that was. He caught 'drag act' but none of the rest. Still, it sounds like it was meant to be a reasonably-friendly joke, so he gives Tony an uncertain little smile and continues to fret. Especially when, seconds later, Tony acknowledges how drunk he is and--
"Damnit. I should have cut you off." He wasn't paying attention, and occasionally he forgets how much alcohol is a normal amount for normal people. Ironic, though, how he was just saying a few minutes ago he wasn't paying enough attention to Tony's mood after a traumatic incident. He's going to have to do better.
"My what?" He starts to stand, hesitates because he's not sure it's okay, and then shocks himself utterly by feeling a near-desperate urge to kiss the other man. It's not the compliment--he's not sure how to take that, exactly--it's something about the moment of vulnerability. Tony's smart mouth failing him, his guilt and his grief and the strange, sad, tipsy glimmer in his eyes.
"Th-thanks..." He manages to stammer, and then there's a knock at the door and the crisis is averted. Sort of.
He gets up, moving away to answer for room service, but looking back anxiously. "Don't fall over, okay? Can you sit?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
momijizukamori![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2018-06-21 07:09 pm (UTC)"Damnit. I should have cut you off." He wasn't paying attention, and occasionally he forgets how much alcohol is a normal amount for normal people. Ironic, though, how he was just saying a few minutes ago he wasn't paying enough attention to Tony's mood after a traumatic incident. He's going to have to do better.
"My what?" He starts to stand, hesitates because he's not sure it's okay, and then shocks himself utterly by feeling a near-desperate urge to kiss the other man. It's not the compliment--he's not sure how to take that, exactly--it's something about the moment of vulnerability. Tony's smart mouth failing him, his guilt and his grief and the strange, sad, tipsy glimmer in his eyes.
"Th-thanks..." He manages to stammer, and then there's a knock at the door and the crisis is averted. Sort of.
He gets up, moving away to answer for room service, but looking back anxiously. "Don't fall over, okay? Can you sit?"