“I’ve been to Vegas. The rooms are nicer,” Tony says as if it’s a complaint, making a sort of ‘sheesh’ face as his fingers stealthily smooth the damp naps of Banner’s neck. He has a favorite part of people, a part that doesn’t translate well in his armor or in robotics in general but that everyone has. The triangular shaped area from neck to shoulders, where all of the important muscles attach, happens to be it. His wrists rests on Bruce’s shoulder but his fingers linger there and will continue to do so until Banner recalls that he’s as capable of moving away from him as Tony is to cease a potentially unwanted touch.

He wets his lips with his tongue, an unconscious but thoroughly and bafflingly sensual gesture, and lets ridiculously long lashes touch his cheeks for a moment.

Or two.

Before he speaks, he breaths in the air between them. It’s warm and damp from the hot tub and from the moment they had shared where Bruce had so nearly missed him back.

“There’s no where this can go. I’m not an idiot. I get it. And you’re not a fling... you’re... important. I don’t have a lot of people like that to overstep with.”