[Tony thinks about throwing a pillow at Steve, remembers he's got two shitty hands right now, and settles for letting his head fall back on the bed with a dramatically frustrated groan. Really, Steve? Is this the time to be asking these questions?]
Steve, you're practically gargling my balls right now, what do you think the answer to that question is?
[Tony's constant anxiety offers a few helpful suggestions - maybe it's too soon, maybe Steve doesn't want to be around him all the fucking time, maybe he talks in his sleep (although Tony doesn't care about that) - and the trickle of fear worries away at him like a stream eroding a riverbed, etching its way onto his psyche, joining the river of insecurities (you're not good enough).]
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Steve, you're practically gargling my balls right now, what do you think the answer to that question is?
[Tony's constant anxiety offers a few helpful suggestions - maybe it's too soon, maybe Steve doesn't want to be around him all the fucking time, maybe he talks in his sleep (although Tony doesn't care about that) - and the trickle of fear worries away at him like a stream eroding a riverbed, etching its way onto his psyche, joining the river of insecurities (you're not good enough).]