“I think I can manage to keep my hands to myself. Rewind will you? Ahead? Is this a short joke? I’m over average height. You’re just a yeti,” Tony snarks, mostly because he doesn’t know what to do with himself. One should never meet their heroes. Or their father’s obsessions. It doesn’t end well. Tony doesn’t immediately pour himself a drink, but he feels like he’s going to need to soon, so he stays where he is by the bar and leans a hip against it.

Tony doesn’t need foreplay here. Nor context, which amounts to the same sort of thing. He watches Steve with an understated intensity, lines forming on his forehead and around his lips as he tries to keep himself suspended in a casual sustain.

“I’m all for disturbing Fury, though. I owe him a little disturbance. But if you’re running away, there’s no room at this Inn, Captain. You’ll have to find somewhere else. Could suggest a circus. You’d make a good strong man.”