Mouth dry, Tony scoffs. “I’m insulted. I think I should be insulted,” he says, as if playing off that he doesn’t know what Steve means about being a Joyce novel. It’s a little too much attention. He doesn’t like it when people see through him. Pepper’s never even done that, or at least never brought it up. She knows — knew? — all about his suicidal tendencies but somehow managed to live with them. It hadn’t been easy.

But Steve doesn’t just know. He understands. He commiserates. That makes a big enough difference that Tony feels a little awkward. And not just because he’s staring at some perfectly crafted pecs.

Tony grabs the bottles of conditioner from the sink counter and hands them over to the blond. Change of subject.

“Right now, I just hope that you’re up on your conditioning game. This mission calls for it,” he says and climbs under the spray.