Tony almost flinched away, wanting to just get this done and get out of here and get Pietro, but was glad when he didn't, closing his eyes instead with both hands still resting on Steve's stomach. They didn't have time for this, but he bowed his head, wrapped his arms around Steve and leaned against his shoulder, smelling anesthetic and sweat over the rot of this place. That little touch was enough to relax that vice squeezing his chest and bring some order back to the frantic chaos of his mind that Tony had assumed Extremis had been handling for him, just assumed everything was organized rationally, efficiently and in order of immediacy. None of it actually made very much sense. No wonder Wicked and Wanda hated him so much. No wonder he could barely say three words without fucking it up. Someone, Danny Rand probably, or just some gal he couldn't remember, told him once that being denied human contact was as much torture as light or water. Tony couldn't really believe that, but he pressed his face to Steve's neck, eyes squeezed closed.