[ Steve has never felt so uncoordinated in his life, but he's trying his best. And when Tony asks that Steve take his shirt off first, he tries to just lift it over his head, but then he gets stuck. So, he gives it a good rip and thinks he'll just sew all these buttons back on tomorrow, except that somehow he's also managed to basically just hulk out of the damn thing.

And, okay, maybe he will try to buy a sturdier shirt, for more than $50, some other time.

He barely gets it off and he's already rolling his hips against Tony's, almost as if he'd forgotten that they still are mostly clothed and there's still all this fabric in the way. But he works on that, forgoing the shirt for now and grasping at Tony's belt as he latches lips onto his neck, definitively less discerning with his kisses than he would normally be sober. ]

You're so amazing, Tony.

[ He can't really help how soft he feels in the moment - normally he at least gets a bit of a filter, but while drunk everything is open and honest and apparently steeped in poetry and little games to get to know Tony better. Sort of. It's not like the game gave him any new information, but the thought was there. ]

Can't wait to marry you.

[ He unhelpfully mutters all this into Tony's neck, and further sentiments about his dreams for married life. ]

And do all our taxes together. Make you coffee every morning. 'N take out all your garbage.