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Tony took another drink of tea and felt the watchful eyes of Steve follow his hand back down to the table.
"What?" He flipped through some papers and pulled out the one he was apparently looking for. "Who still uses paper?" he balled up the sheet in his hand and threw it through a holographic basketball hoop over the trash can.
"It's hardly past noon," Steve complained, "and you're already drinking."
"D'you want some?" Tony scanned over another page from the pile, unsatisfied, he tossed it over his shoulder.
"No, I don't want any. Tony, I'm starting to think you really have a problem."
"Just now?" He spun in his chair and began searching through another pile of papers.
"Tony." He knew that tone. It meant he was in trouble and that he was supposed to turn around to look at Steve. He didn't especially want to so he settled for at least stopping his hands. "Tony, I'm not kidding. You drink too much you're going to--"
"Destroy my liver, yeah. I've gotten this talk from more than one person." He continued rifling through the stack. "Pick up the glass."
"Why?" Tony gave him enough time to pick the glass up,
"Smell it."
"Tony, I don't want to smell your--"
"Smell it." Tony excitedly plucked a sticky note from the pile and turned now to watch Steve.
"Is this....tea?"
"Chamomile." Tony smiled.
"Why are you drinking tea out of a tumbler?"
"Tony grabbed his glass from Steve's hand and stuck the note on the table in front of him. He drank the last of his tea and walked quickly upstairs. Steve read the note on the table,
Tony,
The glasses should be beside the sink with the plates. Stop putting them with the food.
-P.P.