[It's meant as a joke, but it's a little more cutting than he'd intended, coming from a guy who grew up practically penniless. Steve's always felt self-conscious about the class difference between them, no matter how easy and carefree Tony seems about his wealth. (Only the people who have money can afford to act like it doesn't matter, he knows that all too well.) Steve brushes it off and keeps moving, both metaphorically and literally.]
Ice cream's more my style. [And, yeah, he's just had a not insignificant amount of Chinese food, but his serum-affected metabolism means that Steve's pretty much always willing to put away something else. (Even that is affected by his mental outlook, that need to eat when he can because he's subconsciously worried about not getting more food.)]
Or the bed, [he adds, and it's a little shy, but when the low light in the garage catches his eyes, it reflects off wide, dark pupils.]
[ Tony hums, pushing open the driver side door but lingering inside to think about Steve's question, even if it's rhetorical. He doesn't take it as an insult, more than aware that he lives a vastly different life from the rest of the world. Even before becoming a superhero, he hadn't really had much in common with the rest of humanity—fighting to keep it safe has definitely been good for his relatability with other people. ] Guess that kind of thing is relative, huh?
[ Smirking, he gets out of the car and waits for Steve to follow. He hadn't meant to cut him off in the middle of flirting, so once they've rejoined and can walk to the elevator together, Tony stays close and picks up that topic again. He appreciates that Steve is doing his best to meet him half-way with the innuendos, and he's also trying to not come on too strong just in case it makes him clam back up. After all, it had taken him quite a bit of work to get him to exchange the sexy texts. ] We could always eat ice cream in bed. Or each other. I'm sure your metabolism means you stay pretty hungry.
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[It's meant as a joke, but it's a little more cutting than he'd intended, coming from a guy who grew up practically penniless. Steve's always felt self-conscious about the class difference between them, no matter how easy and carefree Tony seems about his wealth. (Only the people who have money can afford to act like it doesn't matter, he knows that all too well.) Steve brushes it off and keeps moving, both metaphorically and literally.]
Ice cream's more my style. [And, yeah, he's just had a not insignificant amount of Chinese food, but his serum-affected metabolism means that Steve's pretty much always willing to put away something else. (Even that is affected by his mental outlook, that need to eat when he can because he's subconsciously worried about not getting more food.)]
Or the bed, [he adds, and it's a little shy, but when the low light in the garage catches his eyes, it reflects off wide, dark pupils.]
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[ Smirking, he gets out of the car and waits for Steve to follow. He hadn't meant to cut him off in the middle of flirting, so once they've rejoined and can walk to the elevator together, Tony stays close and picks up that topic again. He appreciates that Steve is doing his best to meet him half-way with the innuendos, and he's also trying to not come on too strong just in case it makes him clam back up. After all, it had taken him quite a bit of work to get him to exchange the sexy texts. ] We could always eat ice cream in bed. Or each other. I'm sure your metabolism means you stay pretty hungry.