"If I had any idea you were anything but a flat zero on the kinsey scale," Tony says, voice completely dry, "I might have suggested it." It's only partially a lie, he might not have ever brought it up, but he definitely have thought about it more. It hardly matters, though, since Tony is much more interested in mapping the line of Steve's jaw with his mouth than he is in arguing semantics.

And there's a whole lot more investigating he'd like to do, but the way they're sitting isn't exactly the most comfortable. Much as Toby might snort at the idea of feeling his age, his back is already starting to complain a little. There's always the couches tucked into the corner of the workroom, but that feels almost hilariously teenager.

Instead, with an apologetic little nip to the underside of Steve's jaw, he unravels himself enough to slip out of the chair and perch right onto the edge of his workbench. Once he's situation, he grins wide and sharp and tangles a hand in the front of Steve's shirt to pull him back in close again.