As soon as they arrived on the helicarrier, Clint was taken away to the med bay, and the rest of the team followed behind, albeit more slowly, exhaustion, stress, and equipment weighing them down.

Steve followed through on his word, because he always did, Captain freaking America, and forced Tony to be checked over. Tony acquiesced to being examined as long as he got to hear about Clint as soon as they knew anything. And Steve stayed with him, probably as a babysitter, but Tony was content that he would hear any news about Clint, because of course the team leader would have to be kept up to date.

In the middle of the second neuro exam, even though Tony had informed the nurse of the year, his location, his name, and about five other things he hadn't even asked yet, Natasha poked her head in the curtain.

"You should have knocked," Tony scowled. "I could have been naked in here."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Natasha replied. "Also, curtain. Doctor wants to talk to us now."

Tony threw himself off the bed, ignoring the huff of the nurse, and the face that Steve was giving him.

He followed Natasha to outside of the room where Clint was being kept, where the rest of the team was. Steve, and apparently the nurse, were both hot on his heels. He may have stumbled slightly, but hey, he was in a rush, and surely the helicarrier wasn't the steadiest thing. (He hadn't built it after all, so how good could it be?)

Steve must have seen it with his super soldier vision, and shoved him into a chair with wheels, which was a huge mistake. He rolled over to Natasha's side, but absolutely did not bump into her.

"How is he?" he asked, glaring up at the doctor. "Did the beam fracture his skull?"

"Just a concussion," she assured them. "We can't entirely rule out a brain injury until he wakes up, but considering that CPR was started almost immediately, there shouldn't be any sort of hypoxia. We are going to keep an eye on his heart for a while after this, even if it was an isolated incident. "

"Commotio cordis?" Bruce asked, and she nodded at him.

"Yes, that is our current diagnosis, and will be unless we discover something else."

Tony hissed where he rolled to in the corner as one of the nurses prodded at the bruise on his head. "Can you just... no, leave me alone. Like what?"

"A heart defect could possibly cause this, but considering Agent Barton has undergone thorough medical examinations before, it would probably have been discovered, or otherwise shown symptoms. This is the most responsible diagnosis we can make."

She glanced around the room, and seeing no questions, continued.

"He's still intubated, but not sedated. We're waiting for him to wake up before we remove the breathing tube. The meds from earlier have worn off, and he is triggering the vent, so we're not worried. Everything looks good. You all did good."

She smiled reassuringly at them before she nodded at the nurse who was attacking Tony's skull, and left.

"Would you get your hands off me," he hissed. "I am fine."

The nurse let of his head. "Mr Stark, you would be discharging yourself against medical advice."

Tony rolled his eyes, and was pleased when the room didn't spin. "I'm not leaving. I'm just going into that room," he told him, pointing to Clint. He shrugged, pushing off from the wall, and he was certain that Steve was regretting the chair decision now. "Just try and stop me."

They must have put Clint in the biggest room, because they all fit in, including Thor in his armour and Bruce in the cot that Thor must have carried him to. He was still out cold, or maybe not, considering his act on the quinjet.

God, Tony didn't know. His head hurt, and Jarvis was still down in the suit, and oh crap, where was the suit?

Steve must have noticed his panic. "Thor got it," he said quietly, one hand on Tony's shoulder, maybe in an attempt to comfort him. It wasn't comforting though, but rather, stifling. Tony rolled away.

"Okay. Cool. That's good," he muttered. "Thanks Thor."

Thor nodded, not speaking because he'd been given numerous talks about the use of his indoor voice while in medical.

Tony slouched back into his chair, and while it was convenient, it wasn't very comfortable.

He was tired, he wondered if he'd mentioned that, or if maybe the rest of the team was too. But he sure as hell wasn't going to leave, not while Clint was still there, unconscious.

Tony pulled out his phone and began messaging Jarvis, who was miffed about not being updated.

He rolled his eyes at the AI he'd made, which of course was a mother hen. Why did he do that, really? Like he didn't have enough people looking after him already.

The thought made something behind the arc reactor grow warm, that he had people who cared about him, and he cared about, even if caring was dangerous.

Whatever. He was obviously attached, if his current position, keeping vigil over a hospital bed was any indication.

The rest of the team was strewn around the room, Thor perched on a chair that wasn't really big enough for him, examining Mjolnir. Bruce was still possibly sleeping in his pillow nest, and Steve was in a chair at the bedside. Natasha was in the other chair, although she was more on the bed than in the chair.

And then there was Tony, in his wheely chair.

All of them were in various states of exhaustion and injury, but it was just nice. Or at least it would be when Clint woke up.