During the trip, with the wind blasting his fingers, Tony slips his hands beneath Steve's jacket on automatic to protect them. The moment he does, he snaps out of the driving-induced daze and glares at the back of Steve's head. First thought: Steve machinated the cycle ride to make Tony cuddle up for body heat, but that's stupider than most of Barton's macho-man dares. Steve isn't capable of that level of deceit, not consciously; he'd either vomit justice trying it or stumble onto it with good intentions, as previously shown.
In the diner, Steve talked about trust going a long way in relationships. Tony trusts Steve one-hundred percent on the battlefield. He trusts Steve as a friend to share a joke with and a business partner to manage their avenging empire with; and when Tony grew desperate from self-imposed isolation and guilt, he trusted Steve with his submission. But without that desperation, with Tony in full possession of his faculties and not using Steve as a crutch, how deep can he allow his trust to run? Slowly, Tony shields his bare face farther down.
Back in the garage and on his own two feet, nose and ears reddened by the wind, he rubs his hands together and peers at where he parked his orange Audi, his expression distant. "Yeah, I better," he mutters. "But this was ... enjoyable. Maybe we can make this a thing, you know, grabbing some grub at curiously prideful locations whenever I'm on-site."
Steve doesn't think anything about Tony huddling close to him on the bike; it's October, and it's a little chilly, and that blazer can't do too much good. It's entirely platonic, and it doesn't even give Steve inappropriate thoughts. It's as if he had Natasha or one of the others sitting behind him.
"Not sure you're gonna find too many of those in the Hudson Valley," Steve replies dryly. He hasn't lived in a cave since he was thawed out; he knows what rainbows mean. The choice of diner wasn't intentional on his part - as far as he knows, the color scheme isn't even intentional, although he's never come out and asked.
He pauses briefly then adds, "If you wanna do some work and then crash here, you can." Maybe he needs to lose himself in subspace before he can sleep, but if just spending the night with him will help, Steve's willing to offer. "We can even find some pillows and build a wall down the middle of the bed." It's only half a joke. If Tony wants a physical barrier to stop him from cuddling, then he's okay with that.
"Not one that are that obvious, anyhow," Tony says, already pulling out his keys from his pocket. The Audi beeps, and then, eyes down at the swaying keys, he freezes at Steve's offer with a spike of fear. "Can't. Sorry," he says, voice high and tight. He needs to draw his line here. Too many things become a slippery slope for him.
Steve just nods at the response - accepting, not trying to push him into anything. It's an offer made largely out of altruism, though not entirely; Steve does sleep better with Tony there, too. "Thought I'd ask." He reaches out to pat his shoulder. "Have a safe drive home, Tony."
Tony sends him a quick smile and ducks into his car without looking back. The engine purrs to life, but the car idles there for a minute or two, before it finally backs out and zooms off.
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In the diner, Steve talked about trust going a long way in relationships. Tony trusts Steve one-hundred percent on the battlefield. He trusts Steve as a friend to share a joke with and a business partner to manage their avenging empire with; and when Tony grew desperate from self-imposed isolation and guilt, he trusted Steve with his submission. But without that desperation, with Tony in full possession of his faculties and not using Steve as a crutch, how deep can he allow his trust to run? Slowly, Tony shields his bare face farther down.
Back in the garage and on his own two feet, nose and ears reddened by the wind, he rubs his hands together and peers at where he parked his orange Audi, his expression distant. "Yeah, I better," he mutters. "But this was ... enjoyable. Maybe we can make this a thing, you know, grabbing some grub at curiously prideful locations whenever I'm on-site."
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"Not sure you're gonna find too many of those in the Hudson Valley," Steve replies dryly. He hasn't lived in a cave since he was thawed out; he knows what rainbows mean. The choice of diner wasn't intentional on his part - as far as he knows, the color scheme isn't even intentional, although he's never come out and asked.
He pauses briefly then adds, "If you wanna do some work and then crash here, you can." Maybe he needs to lose himself in subspace before he can sleep, but if just spending the night with him will help, Steve's willing to offer. "We can even find some pillows and build a wall down the middle of the bed." It's only half a joke. If Tony wants a physical barrier to stop him from cuddling, then he's okay with that.
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