There's a brief moment where there's a look of almost nostalgia when Steve confirms that he's using rice for the icepack, but it's gone in a blink. He remembers another man once making icepacks like that, back in another lifetime, in another world altogether. He remembers how impossible it was to find water, let alone anything that could be used to ice bruises, in that carved out corner of the cave where they were kept in Afghanistan. He remembers Yinsen using whatever he could find and, well, grains of rice had been easy to access since that was one of the things that their captors provided to them in their weekly rations. With the cave being constantly cold, and the vents throughout the 'room' that always made it worse, it was easy to keep it cold, and that sensation of the sock adjusting to his body is more familiar than he'll ever be ready to admit.

Thankfully Steve keeps talking before Tony can venture too far back into his thoughts, and he really doesn't hesitate to nod in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Maybe the counter wouldn't be the most comfortable right now, from the physical perspective, but he really doesn't mind it. He can't imagine just sitting in the living room waiting, and he's not very fond of the idea of sitting away from Steve, so once he's up he kisses his cheek. "Thanks, but the counter is fine." He smirks as they walk towards the kitchen together. "I may not be good at cooking, but I'm a great taste assessor."