If it was anyone else, or maybe under different circumstances, Sam'd probably be more eager to push. But Steve means a hell of a lot to him, more than he's willing to admit, and it makes him falter, just a little. Not enough to be able to resist touching Steve every opportunity he gets, though.

"Woulda been more grossed out if you said well done, man, I couldn't do that to a piece of meat this beautiful. How about we say rare?"

He pulls out a pair of plates before he goes back to that first question, looking back over at Steve. "I'm not the one who said they didn't know what made them happy, can you blame me for wanting to change that?" He'd meant it to be teasing, and it comes out light, but his smile is a little too soft and genuine to really sell it.

"But yeah, all right, it's an easy question. Flying makes me happy. Running, even when some jerk decides to chase me around and make fun of me. Listening to music, a good glass of wine. Cooking."

Sam bumps Steve's shoulder playfully with his, lingering against it. "This makes me pretty damn happy."