It's an interesting meal. Steve hasn't processed the last pizza party with Tony as a date, per se, and this one is even less so. He's no homewrecker. Still, the chatter is an interesting opportunity to remind himself why there was so much friction between them to start, compare this younger Tony with the one that's had almost a decade to mellow (and take several additional psychological wounds, unfortunately), and deliver a couple tentative warnings that don't relate directly to Hydra, but to other events in their rocky history. Whether any of them will register, he can't be sure, but he can hope.
Younger Tony is both better and worse than he remembered. Or maybe he just has an easier time seeing through the sandpaper facade, even as it rubs him the wrong way. In the end, he's terribly, terribly human. Flawed, brilliant, hungry for regard that has no relation to his family name or the number and size of his bank accounts. He's just...Tony.
That having been noted, he's still glad to get back to his version. Steve's state of mind is mercurial enough that having to modulate it over the course of the evening has gotten exhausting, and he's glad to be in the presence of a Tony Stark that's reliably a bit more tactful. He slides into the seat beside him and reaches to run his fingers through his hair at once, like it's some kind of sensory thing he needs to clear his mind from the past couple hours.
"You mean a new, new uniform, or an old one?" He smiles wryly. "I kinda hate to just rob the Smithsonian again. What did you have in mind, and does it involve the red boots?" He's getting a lot more mileage out of that sartorial decision than he ever thought he would.
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Date: 2018-08-14 03:14 am (UTC)Younger Tony is both better and worse than he remembered. Or maybe he just has an easier time seeing through the sandpaper facade, even as it rubs him the wrong way. In the end, he's terribly, terribly human. Flawed, brilliant, hungry for regard that has no relation to his family name or the number and size of his bank accounts. He's just...Tony.
That having been noted, he's still glad to get back to his version. Steve's state of mind is mercurial enough that having to modulate it over the course of the evening has gotten exhausting, and he's glad to be in the presence of a Tony Stark that's reliably a bit more tactful. He slides into the seat beside him and reaches to run his fingers through his hair at once, like it's some kind of sensory thing he needs to clear his mind from the past couple hours.
"You mean a new, new uniform, or an old one?" He smiles wryly. "I kinda hate to just rob the Smithsonian again. What did you have in mind, and does it involve the red boots?" He's getting a lot more mileage out of that sartorial decision than he ever thought he would.