Steve was so good with his hands sometimes that it came as a surprise to Tony. He should have been used to it now, because it wasn't exactly a new thing between them anymore. But it was just so ridiculously delightful, the way he could press and rub at every sore spot on Tony without him needing to ever say where it hurt. Tony was practically boneless by the time that Steve got his hands in in hair, shoulders relaxed, head tilted forward and eyes half closed.
It was possible Steve had a point. It was time to come up for air.
"Are you telling me you don't hand deliver dinner to the whole town?" Tony teased, a half smile on his lips even as he reached over to pull the delivered plate closer to himself, lifting back foil to see what it was Steve'd brought along.
"You've always got a fire going. It's very manful," Tony said, delighting over bite sized pieces of food -- easy to handle, easier to catch Tony's interest more than most other things, particularly when he was distracted or not feeling tip top. "You keep doing all this -- dinner and fires, massages. I'm going to start thinking you like me."