Steve's going to let him have one drink... okay two given how quickly he drank the first one but he's not going to let Tony drink himself into oblivion. That won't fix anything long term. He'll let Tony take the edge off but he won't let him escape into drunkenness.
"It doesn't really go with Italian food." He gets up from the couch and goes over to Tony to press a kiss against his cheek. "There are other ways to turn my brain off that I enjoy more."
Running. Punching bags to dust. Sex with Tony. That's probably his favorite one these days. It always works and it feels incredible. Tastes better than alcohol too.
"I'm going to get the food. I'll be back." He squeezes Tony's hip before he walks away to the elevator. Only when he's safely in the elevator does he let himself collapse a little bit, rubbing his hands over his face before he stares at his distorted reflection in the silver gleam of the elevator does.
What the hell has he done?
By the time he returns with two big bags of take out that smell heavily of tomatoes and garlic. Part of him expects Tony to be gone, maybe in the suit flying somewhere or just slipped out with Steve seeing him. He knows Tony well enough to know he probably wants to run for it.
Instead of taking things to the kitchen he brings them to the living room. It's a night for eating on the couch and staying close if Tony will let him. Steve's figuring out how to comfort him like this. Tony isn't good at being vulnerable. He isn't good at letting Steve look after him. This is one of those moments where Steve really wished he was.
"Come on, eat something. Humor an old man," he says motioning for Tony to come over and leave the bar behind. "Even if you just nibble at a piece of garlic bread."
Just something so he knows Tony's trying to keep going.
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"It doesn't really go with Italian food." He gets up from the couch and goes over to Tony to press a kiss against his cheek. "There are other ways to turn my brain off that I enjoy more."
Running. Punching bags to dust. Sex with Tony. That's probably his favorite one these days. It always works and it feels incredible. Tastes better than alcohol too.
"I'm going to get the food. I'll be back." He squeezes Tony's hip before he walks away to the elevator. Only when he's safely in the elevator does he let himself collapse a little bit, rubbing his hands over his face before he stares at his distorted reflection in the silver gleam of the elevator does.
What the hell has he done?
By the time he returns with two big bags of take out that smell heavily of tomatoes and garlic. Part of him expects Tony to be gone, maybe in the suit flying somewhere or just slipped out with Steve seeing him. He knows Tony well enough to know he probably wants to run for it.
Instead of taking things to the kitchen he brings them to the living room. It's a night for eating on the couch and staying close if Tony will let him. Steve's figuring out how to comfort him like this. Tony isn't good at being vulnerable. He isn't good at letting Steve look after him. This is one of those moments where Steve really wished he was.
"Come on, eat something. Humor an old man," he says motioning for Tony to come over and leave the bar behind. "Even if you just nibble at a piece of garlic bread."
Just something so he knows Tony's trying to keep going.