Sitting back on his heels, Tony drops his hands from Steve’s head and shoulders onto his thighs. “I don’t think you understand how weak my heart is,” he says, frowning slightly, the creases in his face deep. He won’t go into it, not because it’s gruesome or triggering to talk about the car battery or the way his heart used to literally stop whenever he removed the reactor for replacement. He doesn’t want to mention the fact that Steve had broken the frail, birdlike bones of his much abused rib cage when he brought that shield down over his suit, only one reactor between it and his heart. He barely has a scar on his chest, thanks to modern medical technology, but he hasn’t come away unscathed. Having a sexual relationship with Steve has staved off his previous reactions to flinch from his touch and he really doesn’t want to start that all up again. It’s better to keep things simple. “You can’t just completely marr the idea of have of you in such a constant basis anymore.”

It’s not a genuine complaint. He enjoys hearing about Steve’s exploits, really. It makes him more human, rather than this paragon of virginal virtue.

Not that Steve is a virgin now. Tony is pretty proud of that. It’s in his top five accomplishments, for sure.

“What sort of Army did you used to march in? The golden era was a lot kinkier than anyone ever told us.”