Tony had no choice, he very much so wanted his scotch; but when a superhuman perfect solider wants you to sit on the couch you sit on the couch. Not because he was obedient, because Steve could rip his arm out of it’s socket just by holding it if Tony yanked hard enough. Sitting next to the fellow superhero the ache thrummed in his chest as he flopped face down over the blonde’s lap once more. It hurt, why wouldn’t Steve let him make it stop hurting? Muffled sentences that sounded like whining came and were silenced before he turned his head to the side. “No Jarvis is just evil and British and denying me my playground because he’s an asshole of an A.I. I’m not drunk.”
———-
Steve’s blush had started to fade when Tony had gotten up to get a drink. Now that he was back in his lap it returned full force. “I didn’t say you were drunk.” He said softly, “but you need to cut back.” Steve hesitated a moment, as it was a strange thing to do between two male friends (and he was not going to admit he was starting to feel something more then friendly affection), but he ran his fingers through the raven hair that was on his lap. “It’s for your own good. I’m sorry. Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind?” He pressed pause on the remote for the movie to stop playing, but didn’t otherwise move his incredibly blue eyes from the man on his lap.
———-
“This is cutting back.” he all but whined into the cloth; reburying his face. The soothing motion slowly returned and his eyes went to half lid once more before his brows drew down into a furrow when asked if he wanted to talk about it. “There’s nothing to talk about I just want a drink.” Talking about feelings and Pe—….her, not his style, it was lame. He did not do lame at all. He was Tony Stark! Tony Stark just drank, banged a chick and got over it! So far he had the drunk part down, but as for the chick well working in his lab just felt better right now…
———-
“Exactly. So glad youagree.” Steve smiled, knowing he was twisting Tony’s words into making it sound like the latter man was agreeing. He continued running his slightly tanned fingers through Tony’s hair soothingly. “Well you’re not getting the drink. Just tell me what’s on your mind, Tony.” Then, softer, “Isn’t that what friends do?”
“That makes no sense Steve.” He groaned fighting the urge to curl up and spill his guts. Rolling onto his side he looked up at the soldier, “It isn’t what Tony Stark does.” With that he flopped onto his front again burying his face in a comforting and though somewhat familiar, foreign smell. His eyelids felt heavy at the combined sensation until they slipped shut, eyebrows coming together. “…Hurts…” His voice was quiet and muffled as he laid there.
