What, was something wrong with his hair? Tony was defensive for a beat for the sake of his flawless locks, then switched to suspicious for Steve's singular ability to, without fail, note every subtle little signal Tony didn't always intend on communicating. Sometimes that skill was handy, though, like when Tony lifted his chin and put a defiant hand on his hip to tell Steve to drop the offense to Tony's hair. Steve was the one all soggy, anyway, and yet still looked pristine, like he had been artfully misted for a photoshoot. Dammit.
"We're going to get a tree," Tony explained, which didn't seem to directly have anything to do with Cassie, but the unusual bout of Christmas spirit probably fit the pieces together. "Wanna come?" He must have forgotten his offense by the time he reached Steve, because he wasn't too put off to gently offer, "There's hot chocolate somewhere," with an illustrative lift of his mug and a sweep of the droplets collecting just over Steve's ear and on the verge of dripping down his cheek.