So blood, Bruce’s blood, actually is a bad thing. Anything that isn’t kept inside of his body tends to do so much harm that there’s actually a whole other category for it. There’s part of Tony’s mind that understands that and while he might otherwise try to kiss that crazy look from Bruce’s face, self preservation (thousands upon thousands of hours of it that had been stuffed out of Tony’s usual consciousness) rears it’s head.

Luckily, Tony’s only lost his shirt and not his pants and he carries, among other things, wet naps and gloves with him. You just never know what you’re going to touch, okay?

They can contain Bruce’s blood easily enough, like a camping trip. You bring out whatever you bring in. And they can do that while Tony arches his eyebrows up at Bruce, utterly sincere.

“You asked me out, didn’t you?” Tony’s slept through better acts than this one. Sure. It’s fine, but Bruce is a thousand times better.