When he first woke, everything ached. So he passed out again.
The second time he woke, he heard voices whispering softly, the same way his parents had when he was home from school and they were worried about his bad habits. So he passed out again.
The third time he woke, there was a warm hand covering his that tightened when his twitched and called his name low and eager. So he groaned and opened his eyes to squint against the light and then flutter his lids to try to see and not be blinded.
"Tony... Tony, thank God you're awake," Steve said quietly.
"Steve..." he croaked. "You remembered..."
"Yeah." Steve dropped his eyes. "Yeah, eventually. I'm sorry, Tony. I'm sorry he had you so long. I—"
He waved his free hand (attached to an IV) and coughed. "No. No, it's fine... Not your fault. Drugged..."
"Shh... You're safe now."
Tony hoped his expression conveyed his disdain for that comment.
Steve chuckled unsteadily. "Right. Of course. You know that. I'm here. Um... how are you?"
"I..." He closed his mouth to give his brain a minute to catch up. He was floating on morphine, so it was kind of hard to think, let alone sort through the emotions of having been tortured rather extensively and creatively. So he tried again. "I—"
"Mr. Rogers, we need to—oh! You're awake!" the nurse said. He leaned back into the hall and said something that Tony didn't pay attention to, his nerve endings too aware of Steve's hand on his, thumb stroking over his knuckles. Steve probably wasn't aware he was doing it, looking up at the nurse who came all the way in, another person in scrubs following him in.
"Mr. Stark."
Tony shuddered. "Tony. Please."
"Sorry?"
"Call me Tony."
"Of course, Tony. How are you feeling?" the doctor echoed Steve's question, stepping close to pick up his chart and read the numbers of the various machines to which Tony was attached.
"Not now. Go away," he mumbled.
"Mr St—Tony. We nee—"
"I'm fine with the morphine, Steve is here. I'm awake. I don't feel like I have a concussion—had one before. This is just violence and injury for injury's sake. Now go away and leave me alone."
"Tony..." Steve said gently.
He'd just woken up and he couldn't deal with this right now. "I don't need anything!" he rasped.
The doctor sighed. "You seem stable. For now. We'll need to take a closer look at some of your injuries."
"Tomorrow," Tony ordered with a glare.
"Tony, you should let the—"
"Steve," he choked out. "Tomorrow."
Steve looked up at the doctor and nodded, sighing as he gave Tony's hand a squeeze. After a few moments of quiet questions that Steve answered while Tony rested his eyes, the doctor was gone and it was just Steve in Tony in the room.
"Not for long."
"What?" Tony slurred.
"I said it won't be us for long."
"Oh. Did I say that out loud?" That was...not so good.
Steve just smiled.
"Oh. I suppose everyone's coming then..."
"Yes. They were alerted when you woke."
"Alerted... Like an update."
"Tony... are you okay?"
"I'm...okay. For now. For now," he sighed. Lolling his head in Steve's direction, he lifted his free hand and pressed it over Steve's.
"Oh. Oh alright."
Tony stared at him a moment, the silence stretching along the beeps of the medical equipment. "Thank...thank you." And met Steve's eyes.
He only met his gaze for a short while before dropping it and muttered, "For what?"
"Steve..." Tony pressed his hand tighter. "For..." Swallowed around the lump in his throat.
"Oh. Tony, it's fine," Steve said, leaning in closer.
Opening his mouth to finish while he thought he could, Tony jerked as the door opened with an exclamation of his name. He pressed his head into the pillow, turned away, so he could catch his breath. Let his arm shift subtly, so it looked like it rested across his abdomen instead of pressing on top of Steve's hand.
"Shit, sorry! Is he awake?" Carol said, lowering her voice.
"I'm awake." And then turned his press smile on the lot of them.
After ten minutes of Tony fielding questions, Steve stood and herded them back out and turned the far light off in the room. By the time he'd seated himself on the chair next to his bed, Tony's chest felt tight. The hospital gown, loose across his skin felt heavy and too much. "Steve..."
"What do you need?"
"I want this off," he whispered, closing his eyes. "The hospital gown. No. You know what. Scratch that. Get me home. I can't take this beeping, the smell, the lights... I don't even want to try the food. It'll be terrible. That's how hospital food always is, and I can't take it."
"But what abo—"
"Please..." He was suffocating under these fluorescents and all he wanted was the comfort of his own bed, no matter how much pleading it took. He forced deep inhalation. "I need my own...my own stuff, Steve. My own bed. My own pyjamas. I'll stay in bed all day if I need to, I just can't be...here." His mouth was overflowing with words that he didn't mean to say, and his voice was telling Steve everything he needed to know about how not fine he was. Tony flopped a hand over his face.
"Do you want me to turn the lights off all the way?" Steve. Worried. Unsure.
"No! Just get me the hell out of here!" he snapped, turning away and coughing. "Do what you have to. Lie. Throw money at them. I don't care. I'll buy the whole wing of the hospital!"
"Tony! Tony, relax. You're getting yourself all worked up. Besides. You already did buy the whole wing of the hospital last time you were here."
Tony paused and looked at Steve. Forehead wrinkled with worry. Lips trying to smile but couldn't. Frowning. "Don't look so worried. I'm fine. I'll live."
Steve dropped his eyes. "You didn't look like it when we found you."
"I..."
"You looked awful. Torn up. Bruised. Thin. Bloody. I didn't think... You didn't look alive, Tony."
He flinched. "Not my first time dealing with being a captive. Know my way around these things now."
"Tony!" Grip tightening on Tony's hand, Steve's blues flashed at him angrily. "We almost lost you! They were going to dump you in the ocean! Don't crack jokes about it!"
"I have to!" Tony snapped. "If I don't crack jokes about it, I'll—" He forced his mouth shut with an audible clack of his teeth, pulling his hand away from Steve to grip his other arm tight. Tried to stop the shaking and vertigo floating around the edges of his consciousness. "I can't..." Damn it!
"Alright. Alright. We'll go."
"And don't treat me like an invalid either!" he snapped, voice breaking. When he looked at Steve again, he was, thankfully, amused, not pitying.
"I'll call Happy."
"Great."
Tony didn't sleep that night. He spent more time than he would ever admit ever huddled up against his headboard, blankets pulled around him. He wouldn't admit either that his chest froze even as he scrambled for a normal sleeping position as the doorknob turned. But when he cracked an eyelid, it was only Steve.
"Hey Tony..." the man said gently, smiling. "Can I come in?"
"Uh..." Then cleared his throat. "Morning. Yeah." And patted the sheets.
Steve stared him over a minute before coming and clicking the door shut behind him.
"Uh, leave the door open, actually."
Blinking, Steve did as asked and then perched cautiously on the edge of Tony's bed. "Did you sleep at all?"
"No."
A smile flickered over Steve's lips. "Should have come to see me. I was up."
Tony just nodded and pushed himself to a sitting position, scratching at the IV in the back of his hand.
"Stop that," Steve said gently.
Tony rolled his eyes.
"Can you talk yet?"
Sighing, Tony looked at the ceiling rather than the earnest caring on Steve's face. "I don't want to talk," he said gruffly.
"Okay."
After a couple minutes of muted silence, he qualified, "About that."
"Sure."
"You were up late?"
Steve nodded. "Most of the night."
"Idiot."
Steve snorted, quickly stifling the laugh.
"Don't."
"Huh?"
"Don't not laugh 'cause shit happened." He looked up to meet Steve's wide eyes. Tony rolled his. "I told you; don't treat me like I'm fragile."
"Then get out of bed, soldier!"
Tony rolled his eyes and stretched, wincing as it tugged on the welts and cuts.
"Though you should probably stay put and rest up," Steve smiled at him.
Tony nodded absently, hands itching for something to work on. "They were making me build a machine," he mused, frowning at the ceiling.
"The one that Reed came up with."
Flicking a glance at him, Tony nodded. "Yeah. You remember everything now?"
"We found out about the machine from Reed. But yes. I remember everything now."
Tony nodded.
"You shouldn't have sent me away."
"It was my best choice."
"Your best choice? Because I distinctly remember being there also, hence a part of the scenario."
"Yeah, but if you'd stayed, they'd have killed you. Because they didn't need you," Tony said harshly. "They needed me. And if you were just a civilian, then they would let you go. Which they did."
"Tony Stark. Always making decisions for other people," Steve snorted.
Tony gaped at him with faux injury. "Steve Rogers. Getting snarky with me?"
Laughing, Steve leaned closer and shifted more of his weight on the bed.
The laughter did him good. The open door, his best friend close, and no infernal beeping of a hospital. Better. Everything was better.
"Tony?"
He'd closed his eyes at some point. "What?" he asked breathlessly.
"You tired?"
"Exhausted."
"You should sleep."
"I can't."
Steve hummed a little bit. "Me either."
Snorting, Tony snugged the blankets tighter around his shoulders.
"What if I sleep with you?"
"What?" His eyes snapped to Steve's face. Steve who was carefully looking at Tony's chin instead of meeting his eyes. But he scooted back to give Steve more room on the bed, squinting at him. "You trying to sleep with me in my vulnerable state, Rogers?"
The other immediately flushed. "No! I just thought—oh God. That came out wrong. I—"
He laughed softly, wincing as it jarred bruises on his ribs, shoulders, and abdomen. It felt good. "Lie with me, Cap." And eased himself onto his side, the most comfortable place to lie.
Steve coughed a little and rolled down onto his side so he was at Tony's back.
"No. Sorry. Can't. Other side, Steve. I can't have you at my back." He suppressed a whine as he scooted himself across the sheets to where Steve had been laying to give him enough room now to lie facing him.
"Better."
He gave it a minute, closed his eyes to avoid Steve's worried blues and then huffed. "No. Back's wide open. Fuck, this is ridiculous."
"No, no it's not. It's fine. Here. Put your back to the headboard. Your bed is big enough that you can lie the other way. And you've taken the top sheet and duvet off anyway. And I'll lie facing you. Or away from you. Whichever way you want."
"You can face me," Tony mumbled as he shifted. When they were finally all settled, Tony allowed Steve to share one of his blankets with him and they were scooted close enough that it was a little uncomfortable to have Steve staring at him like that. "Go to sleep."
Steve grinned. "Better?"
"Better."
"Good. Hey Tony..."
"What's up Steve?" He didn't open his eyes.
"You can... you can talk to me. If you want. I'm not a psychiatrist or whatever, and I know you hate those. But if you want to talk... I'll listen."
"I know you will, Steve," he said quietly. This was fine. Fine. Solid wall at his back, Steve guarding his front. This was okay. Maybe... Maybe he could sleep...