It’s true that Tony responds better to touch than to words. Strange, perhaps, since he uses words so much and touches people more infrequently than he rambles at them, but words are limited and get easily tangled in others of their kind. Touch is simple. Even a genius can understand it.

He leans into the press of Bruce’s forehead and closes his eyes, letting himself feel the warmth of his body and breathing in the scent that is as exhilarating as it is captivating and calming. This is a mess. It’s a huge, impossible mess. But they can do this. Somehow. Maybe. If there has ever been someone to put his money on, it’s Bruce.

A smile curves Tony’s lips as Bruce pulls back. “I’m still me, huh? Okay. We can do this.”

But he doesn’t stop there. He draws away from Bruce and heads back toward the bed. As he goes, he kind of hunkers down, stance too wide, and starts doing his own rendition of the Thriller dance, complete with wavey arm motions, as he sings to a completely different beat,

“I look up to
Everything you are
In my eyes you do no wrong
I've loved you for so long
And after all is said and done
You're still you”