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"They can't leave us hanging like this. I could go in. I should go in. What do you think? How are you so calm? You can't--"
"Tony, come on," Steve got up from his seat on the shitty E.R. waiting room chairs somewhere during Tony's umpteenth turn in his pacing. And now Tony's got strong arms, the strongest he knows, wrapped around his shoulders and his face rapidly finds shelter in the crook of his husband's neck, but it's no use.
He pushes Steve away, his eyes once again darting to the closed doors that conceal Peter from view, as well as whatever the doctors are doing to him.
"I don't need a hug, I need to see him." Tony says, not an apology per se, he did push back a little too strongly, but Steve's eyes only display his usual golden retriever understanding, his whole stance projecting a calm that's unnerving to watch just now. "I feel like I'm repeating myself here, but how are you so damn calm, Rogers?"
Steve's smile is tight when he steps back into Tony's space, his hands gentle as he brushes Tony's hair back into a less messy state.
"I'm calm, doesn't mean I'm not worried." He caresses Tony's cheek with his thumb, "One of us's got to hold their shit together, hmm?"
Tony watches Steve's face, like he always does, searches for the anchor the man provides, so often that Tony's stopped denying he needs and cherishes it. He nods, something short, something that tells of the tension that's got his whole body taut and his legs shaky.
"That's not me in this scenario."
"No, it's not," Steve chuckles, "but that's okay." He tilts his head to catch Tony's gaze as he ducks his own. "You worry, I worry, we handle it together. Peter's going to be fine."
"You can't know that." Tony cuts the soothing tone Steve's using short, "The kid… he wasn't okay. That Doom bastard didn't hold off, you… you don't know that he'll be fine…" He's pleading by now, he knows he is, but they've been waiting for over an hour since the grim faced fucking doctors took Peter away, his Spiderman costume still sticking in shreds to his frail body as he shook and babbled incoherent 'I did good, right, Mr Stark?’s and 'I am Spiderman's and Tony's losing it.
"Hug me again?" He says finally.
Steve goes, of course he does, and this time Tony buries his head in his chest and clings to his back with all the strength he's allowed to use. He takes in the warmth and steadiness of Steve's massiveness around him. He takes in the reassurance the man whispers in his ear and holds onto the fact that his husband is right here, and can take him being a huge mess. He can't breathe.
And the door behind them opens suddenly, and Tony once again pushes Steve back- but this time they're both turning as one towards the door, and the same doctor they've seen earlier is there, and thank God for Steve's hand on his shoulder or Tony would pounce.
The man's face is the same mask of serenity that borders on indifference, but then he shrugs - Tony wants to punch him, Steve too, if the way his hand closes up on Tony's shoulder is any clue - and he starts speaking.
"Peter will be fine. He's got a concussion. Physical as well as mental exertion is prohibited, he should lie down as much as possible, TV and other such luminous and mentally draining activities are banned at least until the headaches stop. He can take Tylenol for the headaches, whatever dose matches his metabolism which, you know it better than I do, I'm certain. He said something about a healing factor? Anyway, you can take him home as soon as you've signed the papers." He says that last part with just a hint more feelings, feelings that seem very close to exasperation and Tony finally finds a more normal breathing rhythm. Peter's probably been running his mouth so much that even that asshole can't take it anymore. He'd laugh, but he just wants to see Peter now, and call May, for the hundredth time, to reassure her this time - the Hawaïi vacation with Pepper seems to shorten her signal quite a bit.
"We'll take him off your hands." Tony nods, already walking to the door and the doctor's face shows his relief for the smallest moment. Steve stifles a laugh behind Tony as the three of them make their way down a neon-lit corridor.
"How many questions do you think he's managed to ask them in the last hour?" Steve whispers in Tony's ear when they pause in front of yet another door.
Tony gives him a side-glance, grinning - he's so fucking relieved - but doesn't get to answer because the doctor is opening the door, and they can hear Peter's voice. It's slurred and toned down from its usual obnoxious cheerfulness, but there's no mistaking the lilt at the end of each word and the chip of his smiles as his intonation goes up, "And what schools did you go to? Do you find it hard being a nurse? My aunt says it's hard but worth it, do you agree?"
And all of a sudden, Tony can breathe again.