It was a little weird. Mostly because Tony was willing to stare at Steve plenty and had been for years now, but was always pretty damned good at not doing that, because he was a glutton, and he had an addictive personality but he wasn't an idiot.
Tony bit at his own bottom lip, trying to get his shit back together, backed up enough to bump into the front of the stove, and then righted himself before any sort of accident could occur. Well, a bad kind of accident. The hashbrowns already existed.
Steve swallowed, and Tony watched. "She. Is not. No. I think." he paused, because he was generally bad at remembering things like that but he was positive he'd asked before. "No," he repeated.