Which Tony must not have noticed because he only retorted, "Nope." He didn't much want to think of Nick, either. He was concerned more with what a disconcerting tragedy it was that she had stopped touching him. This he corrected by shifting close to her when she sat, arm draped around her shoulders with the other hand sneaking along the hem of her shirt, stopping just short of bowling her over with a hopeful grin and a question that he obviously wasn't going to easily accept 'no' to.
"You know what's really messed up," he started, whispering for being so close, not really a question because he didn't leave room for an answer, "and it's not that I really mind except that it's kind of really frustrating and it'll probably go away, but I think whatever you did-- to the Iron Man, whatever it thought you did, it's like, I think it's still in my head because I can't. Stop. Thinking about you, like, you think I'm exaggerating, I'm not, I can smell you when I'm going to sleep, like you're right there in the bed." His head dropped with a sigh like this speech exhausted him, and Tony leaned where he could kiss Wanda's shoulder, fingertips brushing her stomach then curling back into a fist, sensing they might not stop if they went any further. It was good to get that out. It had been distracting him for days. Hopefully that was the only urge the Iron Man had left him with.