Tony hadn’t been expecting much from Steve. He had perhaps believed that Steve would be polite, have his drink and his wings and then bob his head along for a few moments before actively work on not looking bored. It was Pepper’s MO, and so Tony didn’t expect to find a kindred spirit in the blond at all. Most people didn’t appreciate jazz as an experience outside of the music itself.

A glance over during the interlude told him a vastly different story. Commonality between them came mostly in the form of wanting to do the right thing by the most people.

But this?

This was remarkable. Steve’s face had been an object of study before but Tony peeled back the layers now, imagined the cogs and gears that could be working seamlessly under the skin of his face, and tried to figure out how they tied back to the circuitry of his brain.

Tony let the music filter through him as he regarded his guest, a distant, but genuine smile on his face. He wasn’t just staring. He was admiring.