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“That was fascinating,” Stephen said, giddy feeling in his chest as they walked down the street. “Excellent choice.” The Museum of Human Disease had been fantastic. He almost regretted not visiting earlier. Though if he had, then Tony might have switched to a different museum, which would have been a shame, because Tony’s reactions had been excellent, a fascinated sort of revulsion as they’d looked at diseased human tissue.
“I’m glad you enjoyed,” Tony said. “But, not to sound delicate, no more diseased tissue talk until after lunch.”
Stephen laughed. “I suppose I’ll refrain, though that tuberculosis—”
“No.” Tony shoved him. “Food. Then you can talk about diseased tissue.”
“Oh fine.”
They continued down the street. Stephen hid a smile when Tony’s fingers tangled with Stephen’s. “You know,” Tony said, breaking the silence. “I’m glad it happened this way.”
Stephen arched an eyebrow. “Glad what happened this way?”
“Vincent. Edward.” Tony shrugged. “You showed me parts of you you might not have shared if all I knew was Stephen the Sorcerer.” He paused. “Plus, I probably would have stuck my foot in it about your hands and the doctor thing. Which, admittedly, is still on the table. I’m apologizing in advance.”
“I’ll try to be forgiving,” Stephen said, holding back another laugh.
“Plus, now I know exactly what to do on days when I want to drive you to homicide,” Tony teased.
Stephen laughed. “Oh no, homicide is off the table. Instead I’m going to perfect the Mr. Superiority Complex persona for when you deserve it.”
Tony wrinkled his nose. “Fine, I won’t try to drive you to homicide. Mr. Superiority Complex can stay a relic of the past. I far prefer Stephen Vincent Strange to your masks.”
Stephen smiled at him. “Well, Tony Edward Stark isn’t too bad, either.”