Thank you all for your support. Seriously, all my followers and reviewers, I LOVE YOU ALL! Margaret, in answer to your question, there is a lot of medical stuff coming up. And to Marianne, I hate character death too. So don't worry, you won't find that kind of depression here! Now on with the new chapter!
"Ugh" Tony groaned in pain as he woke up. Everything hurt. And everything was cold. Except for one hand. How does that work? Tony curiously looked down at the hand, and found another clasping it. He traced the hand up its arm to its owner, and smiled fondly. Steve was sleeping (not surprising considering it was 2am), hand wrapped warmly around Tony's own, and his face resting on the side of Tony's bed. Tony attempted to move and hissed again in pain.
"Lay still, Mr. Stark." A quiet voice said from across the room. Tony looked up, eyes finding a kind looking nurse standing in the doorway, clutching a couple of blankets.
"What's the damage?" Tony asked.
"Well, for one, your leg is broken, so be careful not to move it too much. I'd thank my lucky stars I wasn't awake when they set it, if I were you. You have lots of bruises, several cuts, a total of over a hundred stitches, and that machine in your chest needed work. Mr. Banner took care of that, though. The most concerning thing is the bullet wound in your gut. You're lucky as hell it passed all the way through, or you wouldn't b here. You almost bled to death, and we've had to give you several pints of blood. I don't know how the bullet managed to only graze your vitals on it's way through, but it's still going to need probably a couple of months to heal properly. So you're supposed to take it easy for at least the next two months." The nurse said, covering Tony carefully with one of the blankets. "And that means, according to Mr. Banner and Director Fury: no parties, no driving, no drinking, no inventing, no workshop, and no Iron Man."
"Hmph." Said Tony, glaring at the nurse.
"I know. No fun. But you have Mr. Rogers here. I'm sure he'll look after you." The nurse said quietly, gently draping another of the blankets over Steve. "He's really taken care of you the past few days. He's hardly slept at all and he hasn't eaten much since you were attacked. You're lucky to have a friend like him." Tony looked at Steve and shook his head sadly.
"You know, you nearly died. You've been out for days and it's been touch and go the whole time. You barely managed to fight off the fever. He's been worried sick. Only left when we forced him to, and he stood right outside the whole time. And as soon as we said OK he was right back at your bedside. I think he nursed you more than we did." The nurse checked Tony's IVs. "I need to clean the stiches in your gut. They're infected." Despite the soft touch the nurse had as she dabbed at his stiches with a cotton swab dipped in something cold and strong smelling, Tony gasped and clenched the bedsheets between his fingers. She finished as quickly as she could and Tony slowly let himself relax into the bed.
"Hey." He suddenly remembered something. "I thought I said no recovery rooms!" The nurse laughed.
"Mr. Rogers is working on it. He has a meeting with Director Fury tomorrow, and considering how adamantly he's been arguing for you, I expect the Director can't say 'No.' forever. I'd say you'll be going home tomorrow."
"Good." Tony huffed quietly, snuggling happily into the blanket, and turning slightly onto his side to face Steve, and as he drifted off he felt the large hand holding his tighten slightly.