Good night? "Nooo-oo." How could anyone think this was time to say good night? "No, no, no, no." This was fever pitch, baby, this was uh-uh-climax. "Nuh-uh." Not that Steve would understand that, tightass. Tony didn't see that look on Steve's face, just shook his head and wagged a finger with his still free hand, tugging hopefully to free the other. There was no reason to spoil this fun. Making a grab for the mike, Tony dragged it with the stand to twist out of Steve's immediate grasp and intervention zone to announce, "Captain America, ladies and gentlemen, for your viewing pleasure." Now he was pulling more insistently, starting to giggle again, still dragging the mike with him to keep it well away from Steve, "Come on, tell him how much you want to see him dance."
With the crowd cheering, Tony let the microphone go again, not bothering to try to be heard over them anymore and letting Steve's counterbalance to all of his escape attempts pull him up against Steve's chest. His shirt, fallen off of his shoulders and held there by Steve's strong grip and Tony's arm raised to curl a finger under the placket at the front of Steve's shirt, was opened enough to let the glow of the repulsor turn them both a sickly yellow. "For the American people, Steve," he encouraged, mouthed words in the noise of the ballroom.