Thankfully, he didn't move, and she just helped him into the wheelchair instead of heaving his unconscious body into it. It would have served him right had he gotten a bruise.
He was quiet as she wheeled him back into the lift and as they descended back to the medical floor.
"Do I need to tell you how much of an idiot you are?"
Tony grumbled.
"I still can," she pointed out, pushing him out of the lift. "Because I gave you specific instructions. And don't think I was fibbing about the handcuffs. And now my tea is probably cold." She hoped Tony could feel the glare she was levelling at the back of his neck. "You do not get in between a woman and her tea, got it?"
Tony held his hands up in mock horror, and allowed her to help him back into the bed. She stuck the probe back on his finger, and reconnected the IV line. At least he had the good sense to turn it off, and disconnect it, rather than removing the entire thing, which would have led to a lot of bleeding. He wasn't a complete fool, not that she was going to tell him that. As far as she was concerned, Tony could think he was in deep trouble for at least the next little while.
She frowned at the sats. "Oxygen back on," she ordered, and Tony, bless his heart, knew when he was in trouble, and obeyed.
"They need me?" he offered as an excuse, and they both knew it was going to get him exactly nowhere.
"I'm sorry, what were you saying about that?" she asked innocently, the tv behind her turning on to the news channel, where coverage of the battle was featured. The Avengers were clearly winning.
He muttered to himself, and attempted to curl away from her.
"Ah, no," she told him, grabbing his arm to pull him back. "Vitals first, then you can sulk."
He hissed at her, which was kind of adorable. She always thought he would make an excellent cat, both loving and completely indifferent in turn.
"You try to bite me and I'll spritz you with water," she threatened, and it was enough to get him to cooperate, even if they both knew it was mostly an empty threat.
The battle was short and sweet, which meant no one got hurt and needed her assistance. Instead, the team piled into medical afterwards to greet Tony, and berate him, depending on if they'd heard what he'd tried to do or not.
Steve and Natasha both glared at him, Steve reciting a lovely little speech that Miranda suspected he'd used before, before stalking off. Clint nodded in the right places, but his heart wasn't in it. Bruce was passed out, apparently in the media room according to Jarvis, but Miranda knew he would be in later to berate Tony.
Thor stayed after everyone else left, a box of pop-tarts magically appearing from somewhere underneath his cape.
He offered them to Tony and Miranda, and they both accepted. Tony looked skeptically at his, while Thor munched happily, and Miranda pondered how such a flavour was even thought of, much less invented.
"It is strange," Thor observed, "For Asgard to be so much more advanced technologically than your Earth, and yet, to not have developed pop-tarts."
"A mystery for the ages," she agreed.
Tony snorted in the background, and they both ignored him.
It was another week before his chest x-ray was even remotely close to being back to baseline, and Miranda let Tony out of bed. Not far, mind, certainly not to his workshops, but she let him go to the media room to watch movies, and let him sleep in his own room at night. He was looking better, and eating and drinking a nearly normal amount, so she had to be pleased with that.
Thankfully, there were no other incidents that required the Avengers, because she wasn't sure she could have stopped him from going out.