Steve is a contrast to Tony's buzzing energy. It's not that he's tired or even melancholy, just pensive. It makes him quiet, although he still smiles and responds to Tony's conversation, and he's focused enough on the here and now to insist they both eat. He actually has a beer with his dinner, which isn't his usual fare, but he drinks it with all the slow savor of a guy who is capable of getting drunk off it. He was that guy, once.
He's thinking about Peggy at first, reflecting that she's still alive here. He doesn't want to see her. Bucky coming back from the dead is enough. Besides, the shock of seeing him was a concern the first time around. Seeing two living Steves one after another would be bad for her condition. Still, she's here, and he's got a little money, and it would be a matter of a few minutes to buy her some flowers and send them anonymously. Roses, he thinks. Red and white? Or maybe the full spectrum of colors they have available. Rainbow roses. He'll do it tomorrow.
After that, though, he finds his brain wandering through winding memories of the war. Nothing particularly tragic, but details he hasn't thought about in a while. Stories he could probably share with Tony, if he wanted to hear them.
He doesn't especially want to sleep, but he can tell with the mood Tony's in, if he says he's staying up, neither of them will rest tonight. Besides, if they both lie down, cuddling is a possibility, and one he very much welcomes. Briefly he wonders if Tony likes flowers, and finds himself smiling at the idea of getting him red and yellow roses to match the suit. It's that grin that Tony gets the sight of when he comes to the bed and strokes through his hair. There's a certain undeniable charm to Steve's smile when he's pondering gentle mischief.
"You're good at sweet-talk, Tony," he tells him, reaching up to run his fingers up and down his forearm. "You wanna hear a secret? That wasn't the first time I've been around wrist restraints and riding crops."
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He's thinking about Peggy at first, reflecting that she's still alive here. He doesn't want to see her. Bucky coming back from the dead is enough. Besides, the shock of seeing him was a concern the first time around. Seeing two living Steves one after another would be bad for her condition. Still, she's here, and he's got a little money, and it would be a matter of a few minutes to buy her some flowers and send them anonymously. Roses, he thinks. Red and white? Or maybe the full spectrum of colors they have available. Rainbow roses. He'll do it tomorrow.
After that, though, he finds his brain wandering through winding memories of the war. Nothing particularly tragic, but details he hasn't thought about in a while. Stories he could probably share with Tony, if he wanted to hear them.
He doesn't especially want to sleep, but he can tell with the mood Tony's in, if he says he's staying up, neither of them will rest tonight. Besides, if they both lie down, cuddling is a possibility, and one he very much welcomes. Briefly he wonders if Tony likes flowers, and finds himself smiling at the idea of getting him red and yellow roses to match the suit. It's that grin that Tony gets the sight of when he comes to the bed and strokes through his hair. There's a certain undeniable charm to Steve's smile when he's pondering gentle mischief.
"You're good at sweet-talk, Tony," he tells him, reaching up to run his fingers up and down his forearm. "You wanna hear a secret? That wasn't the first time I've been around wrist restraints and riding crops."