He feels a peace settling over him, even if it has to battle still with his doubts. Tony presses kisses to Jesus' chest, his collarbone, soft brushes of his tongue against skin. He doesn't know if he's trying to be romantic or if he just needs physical contact to confirm this is happening. Maybe it's both.

"Define 'clean'," he says, with only a touch of snark. Because even now, his thoughts aren't exactly pure.