Disclaimer: I do not Own.
Its' confidence that keeps Tony drinking. A self-asuredness that he doesn't always feel, but gets the second the third bottle goes down. When he realises he's drunk too much, thats when he's tipsy. His ears are slightly numb, slightly tingly feeling, probaby from the blood rushing to them, he doesn't know the science behind being drunk and he doesn't care to know because that would take all the fun out of it.
And Tony enjoys having fun.
That is why he made it his goal in life to at least get the the point that he is drunk (when he is really tipsy) on the days where he had no fun, or found no enjoyment in, that in a way at least, he could go to sleep with a smile.
When he's drunk, sometimes he likes to clean, on these days Pepper will sigh, and her shoulders slump a litte in defeat. He wonders why, because most times when he gets into cleaning mode whilst drunk (when he is really just tipsy) is because he figures that its one less thing she has to worry about starting the next day and maybe just maybe she'll thank him.
He even imagines her saying it, but he never gets a thank you.
She probably forgets, actually he is sure she just forgets to say it the same way he forgets that she is allergic to strawberries (and he might have actualy been drunk when he got them because for some reason he distinctly remembers thinking they were chili peppers, but he could just be drunk now and thinking that he had been thinking that becuase) sometimes he liked to defend himself.
Because after that fourth bottle he was pretty sure he was in the right, and every bottle after that was a test to see if he would notice when the world slipped a little more, or if he would even notice or remember. And sometimes he liked to write things like this down, because honestly who doesn't enjoy drunk ramblings with the more then occasional spelling error.
What he does not enjoy, is the next morning he wakes up, his head pounding and Steve knocking at his door.
"Go Away, its way to early for this shit!" He yells, but thats not entirely true, because he didn't yell, though the way his throat feels he thinks its all the same, and anyway Steve heard him.
That or he decided Tony was sleeping still or ignoring him, because he just barged into the room. "We need to talk," were the first words out of Steve's mouth as he walked towards the balcony windows. He stood there in confusion, and as Tony stared at him, watching the confuion swim over his face he couldn't help but snicker. He then winced and wondered why having fun and being drunk went together but having fun and being hungover didn't, since having fun and being drunk led to being hung over, where did all that fun go? He would search for it later.
Steve glared at him.
Or maybe he would chase it down now with a morning cocktail.
"What?" he mumbled, turning his face back towards his pillow, rubbing his face into it tiredly, his arms resting at odd angles at his sides.
Steve continued to glare at him, before turning to stare at the tinted windows again in consternation. Tony scratched his ankle with his big toe.
"Jarvis?" Steve asked hesitantly.
"Yes, Mr. Rogers?"
Tony turned his head away and smiled.
"Let the light in," and just like that his grin became a grimace and his eyeballs were burned in there poor sockets.
"I hate you both right now,"