“Oooh! Werewolves? Please be werewolves!” The guy is in his forties, twice the age of the two young men who were born and raised in Brooklyn, but he’s acting like the youngest of them all. “Banner, I will fund whatever your next research project is in it’s fullest if you can tell me we have a real life werewolf here.” It won’t even be the strangest thing he’s heard, either. He’s pumped a few million dollars into rebuilding Harlem the first time he and Bruce met. And that was almost seven years ago. Tony’s relationships don’t usually last that long, though it probably helps that Bruce vanishes for a year or two stretch of time between their encounters and Tony is strangely respectful about that.

Standing next to Bucky now, Steve is only two inches shorter than his friend. For Bucky to put his hand on his shoulder is probably an odd sensation for him. It certainly is for Steve too, glancing furtively at Bucky. He barely even needs to look up, which makes this whole situation that much more surreal.

“Do you…could it be some sort of latent gigantism?” Steve asks, after apologizing under his breath for the growling.

Tony scratches his beard, and Bruce sets his case beside Tony’s. “I’ll need your blood. I can run a few tests here and give you an exam.”

Steve isn’t eager about that but he’ll do as he’s told.