[There are probably a half-dozen doctors and nurses who would also like to know why Tony isn't in his own hospital bed, but Tony's always been a terrible patient. Frankly, he refuses to stay in a hospital gown one second longer than is absolutely necessary. At least he can try to hide the gauze covering his right hand in normal clothes - though not very well, because stuffing it in his pocket hurts, big surprise there, so he's mostly just...trying to keep it where Steve can't see it. He hasn't seen it without the bandages yet, and he isn't sure he wants to.
He also isn't sure he should be standing right now - or how much longer his legs will hold him - but that doesn't matter. Tony taps the phone with his thumb to end the call when he hears Steve coughing. He'd known all along that Steve would wake up - was more certain of it than the doctors at some points - because not waking up simply wasn't an option in Tony's mind. Because he'd been willing to call in every doctor, right up to Stephen fucking Strange, to make sure it happened.
And while there's a rush of relief when Steve coughs, the deep anger he's been nursing this whole time flares up after a few moments, like an ember fanned into flames.]
What the fuck? [He tries to snap, but his own voice isn't up to much more than a harsh croak. Tony grabs the pitcher on the bedside table and pours two glasses of water, eyes Steve to try and gauge if he's capable of drinking on his own. He'll probably make a valiant attempt regardless, Tony thinks. God, he's so fucking stubborn.]
no subject
He also isn't sure he should be standing right now - or how much longer his legs will hold him - but that doesn't matter. Tony taps the phone with his thumb to end the call when he hears Steve coughing. He'd known all along that Steve would wake up - was more certain of it than the doctors at some points - because not waking up simply wasn't an option in Tony's mind. Because he'd been willing to call in every doctor, right up to Stephen fucking Strange, to make sure it happened.
And while there's a rush of relief when Steve coughs, the deep anger he's been nursing this whole time flares up after a few moments, like an ember fanned into flames.]
What the fuck? [He tries to snap, but his own voice isn't up to much more than a harsh croak. Tony grabs the pitcher on the bedside table and pours two glasses of water, eyes Steve to try and gauge if he's capable of drinking on his own. He'll probably make a valiant attempt regardless, Tony thinks. God, he's so fucking stubborn.]