Sunlight was just filtering in the tinted windows of the Tower, where you and a couple of the Avengers were visiting Tony for a couple days. The billionaire had another project in the works that he couldn't do at the new facility, and Steve and Bruce in particular had wanted to check on Tony's progress. It was still quiet as you left your room, and you figured that you had woken up earlier than the others, or that Steve at least was out jogging with Sam. You drifted towards the kitchen to see if you could find something for breakfast, tiptoeing just in case they were all asleep.
Apparently they weren't though, as Tony at least was already sitting at the kitchen counter with his tablet propped up on an empty bowl. He had a half-filled blender and a full glass next to him, and when you walked in he picked up the blender and waved it at offhandedly.
"Morning, (Name). Smoothie?"
"Your smoothies look like engine grease, Tony." You said, wrinkling your nose at the dark sludge that slopped around in the blender. "I'll pass."
"You know, as a man who is intimately acquainted with engine grease, I take offense on behalf of my smoothie. It tastes fine."
"It still looks gross." You sniffed at the mixture, and gagged. "And smells gross! I think all that scotch melted your taste buds."
"First my smoothies, now my scotch?" Tony raised his eyebrows and tapped something on his tablet. "Anything else you'd like to insult while you're here?"
"Not offhand." You smiled at him and settled for a glass of juice until you could decide on something for substantial, and sat at the table.
The two of you sat in silence apart from the odd noise from Tony's tablet whenever he attempted a function that didn't work out, and even that stopped eventually as he got on a roll. You had finished your juice a while ago, but Tony had become so focused on his work that you didn't want to get up and disturb him even though you were close to starving.
You were just about to get up regardless of how engrossed Tony was in his work when the older man leaned back with a groan and swiped a hand across the tablet, shutting it down.
"Dammit. I need a drink." He griped, rubbing at his eyes with one hand.
He pointed at you with a mock frown, and waggled his finger at you. "And no smart-ass comments from you, (Name)."
"I wasn't going to." You replied after swallowing the mouthful of toast you had prepared for yourself the second he had signalled his concentration was broken.
"What do you have against scotch anyway?" Tony asked, gathering up his tablet and putting the blender back into the fridge.
"It tastes like burned rubber, in my experience." You said with a shrug.
"Only if you've been drinking the cheap stuff." He said, rinsing his glass. When your only response was another shrug, he stopped and stared. "Wait, have you never tried the good stuff?"
"Expensive alcohol is expensive, Tony."
"Yeah well, we need to fix this. Come on." Tony put his tablet back onto the counter and grabbed your plate of toast, heading toward the bar.
"What are you trying to pull?" You asked, following him and trying to get your breakfast back. Tony grabbed your hand to stop you, and towed you along with him.
"You're going to try some real alcohol." He replied, setting your plate down on the bar and taking down several different bottles from the wall. "Just a little sip, I'm not trying to get you drunk or anything."
"Uh huh."
"Scout's honour." Tony swore with a grin, and set out a line of shot glasses that he poured a tiny amount of alcohol into from each bottle.
It was really no more than a sip, and you decided to humour him. The first one burned like any strong alcohol, but the taste was far milder than you were accustomed to. The second and third were stronger, and you barely wet your lips with them, the smell alone making you feel light-headed. The fourth actually tasted a bit sweet, in an odd malt-candy way that wasn't unpleasant, and the last was too strong to even bring to your lips.
"So?" Tony prompted after you set down the last glass.
"Better, but I still don't like it."
Tony downed the untouched fifth glass, and turned it around in his hands afterward as if the empty glass was suddenly interesting.
"Maybe you'd like it better second hand." He said finally.
"Not funny, Tony." You frowned and turned away, determined to blame the colour in your cheeks on the booze if he dared comment on it.
"I'm being serious." He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the bar and for once he wasn't smirking. He didn't look at all like he usually did when he was teasing you, and you paused.
Even if he was teasing you, you decided to take advantage of the opportunity and go for it anyway. You took the bottle that you had liked the most, filled the fourth glass and pushed it over to him.
"Order's up, Tony."
You weren't sure if your lips were tingling from the alcohol or from the kiss itself, and the counter digging into your side as Tony pulled you closer wasn't half as annoying as it should have been. He pulled away from you after a moment but he hovered just inches away, propped up on the counter with the hand not on the back of your neck. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and were surprised that it wasn't nearly as offensive as you had previously thought it was.
Without really thinking you chewed your bottom lip, tasting the leftover burn of the kiss.
"I'm pretty sure I like you better than scotch." You blurted out, meeting his eyes.
"That's funny (Name)," Tony replied, "I'm pretty sure I like you better than scotch too."