Oh, thank god, after the standoffish greeting Tony was sure there wasn't going to be any physical contact allowed. Again, fair. It was a massive relief to know he hadn't screwed up that bad, and he really did want to hold that baby. "Not usually," he replied, because he owed her for warning him about teething and not about what that might mean for him (did babies chew on armor? He didn't really want to find out), but still did the kind thing and drew his gloves back up his forearms, giving him harmless bare hands for appropriate baby handling. The handing over was incredibly stressful, Tony was sure he felt more comfortable passing around unstable explosives, but once he had both arms around Joe and lifted him up against his chest, he was grateful himself that Wicked was wary of the gauntlets. How else was Tony supposed to touch that little nose? "Look at that," he admired, grinning down at Joe while he wiggled and crossed his eyes. Nothing Tony had ever made had been so gorgeous, and Wicked had been surprised by him, didn't even have to think about it just did it. There was such extraordinary purity in that. Joe grabbed at Tony's teasing finger, making Tony go, "Oh, there's no way you're Pietro's, are you? You're going to be a beast, huh? Wrestle him in ten years, show him who's boss, just like mom."