Sooner or later, Steve feels, they will have to tone down the spending some. Even repeated wins at the tables in Atlantic City--or Vegas--will only support so much frivolity. But since there's also the possibility they'll die in the next week, he's not going to make waves yet. They'll figure out how to fund their crusade after they destroy the first two stones. Maybe, if they're really lucky, they'll get a chance for a long enough downtime to live like normal human beings for a while.
You know. A year or two. After they take care of HYDRA. That's not too much to ask.
"I'm not a bottomless pit," he tells Tony archly. But it's true that he needs a ridiculous amount of calories to feel comfortable. He can keep running for a long, long time on MREs and bad coffee, but he rarely turns down a real meal. He's going to be keeping an eye on Tony's eating habits, too, from now on. The mother-henning could get annoying eventually.
Steve actually suggests a dancewear shop first, with only a hint of self-consciousness. Flexibility in his work clothes is pretty important; historically it's been more important than armor, since he had his shield, not to mention his general durability. When Tony nixes that, and doesn't seem interested in looking for an army surplus store, either, Steve just waits to see where they end up.
The result prompts a next-level blush and an explosion of laughter that has to run its course before he can leave the car. "I don't know what you have in mind here, Tony," he murmurs at the door, "but I am sure as fuck not wearing a leather g-string to fight the Chitauri. Is this...is this a place you've visited often?"
It's not that he's oblivious to the existence of fetishwear, or scandalized by it. Leather, in particular, was finding its feet right around the time he entered the military. But he's never been in a modern shop like this before, and he's not at all sure what to expect. The possibility that Tony's trolling him has occurred to him. But what the hell, they might have the right boots.
no subject
You know. A year or two. After they take care of HYDRA. That's not too much to ask.
"I'm not a bottomless pit," he tells Tony archly. But it's true that he needs a ridiculous amount of calories to feel comfortable. He can keep running for a long, long time on MREs and bad coffee, but he rarely turns down a real meal. He's going to be keeping an eye on Tony's eating habits, too, from now on. The mother-henning could get annoying eventually.
Steve actually suggests a dancewear shop first, with only a hint of self-consciousness. Flexibility in his work clothes is pretty important; historically it's been more important than armor, since he had his shield, not to mention his general durability. When Tony nixes that, and doesn't seem interested in looking for an army surplus store, either, Steve just waits to see where they end up.
The result prompts a next-level blush and an explosion of laughter that has to run its course before he can leave the car. "I don't know what you have in mind here, Tony," he murmurs at the door, "but I am sure as fuck not wearing a leather g-string to fight the Chitauri. Is this...is this a place you've visited often?"
It's not that he's oblivious to the existence of fetishwear, or scandalized by it. Leather, in particular, was finding its feet right around the time he entered the military. But he's never been in a modern shop like this before, and he's not at all sure what to expect. The possibility that Tony's trolling him has occurred to him. But what the hell, they might have the right boots.