Steve doesn’t pose a threat right now, not when Tony is still got his mind half caught up in imagines of chorus girls with their thighs wrapped around his ears. It’s oddly endearing. Should something like that be endearing? Probably. Tony doesn’t imagine that there had been a lot of women that had experienced oral sex during the Second World War. Not in that sort of patriarchy. So good for Steve.

He’s still congratulating the then twenty year old when he’s lightly pressed into a chair and calls out demands for exactly what foods Steve should put on a plate for him, arms loose over his thighs.

Steve’s use of the word ‘technically’ is a little more amusing than stuffing his face right now, even in the effort to sober up. He really ought to ask for some of that coffee, but he’ll get to it. “There’s only one definition. Your penis has to go into someone between their legs or someone else’s penis has to go into you. Unless you’re a lesbian. By the way, you’re not. Lesbians... I don’t understand lesbians. But I appreciate their existence.”