For a moment, after she spoke and when she laughed, Tony was still watching her lips, red and wet and stretched over her teeth when she smiled, touching his own and wondering why she stopped instead of listening for it. He was thinking; how many times had they kissed (the first was in Italy-- no, they didn't then, it was after that, was if after she knew he was Iron Man, but that was after they had stayed in Malibu, that was after she caught him with Pietro, it was after she caught him with Pietro, Jesus, had he really kissed Pietro first, that kid really was fast, but it wasn't too long after, it was, it was, it was in her room, correction, the guest room with the decoy prototype and the grey throw and the 76 degree arch in the window, that was still a long time ago. How many since then, how did one even quantify, had he kissed her for an hour or had he kissed her 79 times in an hour, or 146, or just the once, long and perfect and making him warm and pant and ache and press his lips to hers another time, was that the kiss or was the whole hour the kiss. He couldn't count)?; how many times had he heard her laugh (that first was definitely in Italy, or was it before then, was it when he had just stood outside and watched the Avengers work as a team and support each other and laugh with each other while he turned away, maybe the better question was how many times had he made her laugh?)?; how many times had he seen her cry (made her cry, and did once negate those times he had made her laugh or was there a less strict conversion, when she laughed and cried at the same time did they cancel each other out, she must have practiced that because Tony could count those moments better than he could all of the other and she was still beautiful when she did, like the same beautiful she was when she laughed and when she cried together, did that make it more beautiful?)?
There was the crease of a question on his forehead while he wondered why she had stopped that was gone when he closed his eyes to deny her thanks, his thumb still under his lip. "That's why they pay me the big bucks," he dismissed, flicking it away then returning his hand to his chest. On one hand, he felt a cheat, that image she had of him entirely undeserved. If he ever came through, it certainly wasn't then. If he ever came through, he would have been able to protect her from Sinister. Not just protect her, she didn't need protecting, she needed support. Don't drive the car off the road.
On the other hand, that kind of affirmation had his breath going shallow until he realized and he forced himself to meet her eyes again, cocky grin, poker face. In reality: dopey grin, palpable relief. He missed his mask. Quickly, he said, "So are you looking for a new man or what?" with a jerk of his chin.