Of course Hammer wasn't doing anything obviously bad, but that was the warning sign, that should have been alarm bells not 'we'll wait it out'. Hammer never did anything bad, not the way you could punch Ultron for it bad, not until it was all over and done and he was sitting pretty while all his pawns and enemies were dragged through the courts. Tony could hardly explain this to anyone. Steve gave him enough shit for being paranoid and manic and fucking everything up over it. That didn't make Tony any less right.
He flopped onto his side, the way he had been laying before Steve pulled himself out of bed, rummaging sullenly through his pharmacy bag again with his soup abandoned on the nightstand. "I'm not hyperactive," he argued, offended by the accusation because he was, in fact, insanely good at focusing his attention on a project until he atrophied. Steve was the one that had to punch things to get through his day. Tony produced his selection of painkillers and 'flu symptom fighters' from the bag, laying them out for Steve to pick which to start with and checking a few labels in case they weren't supposed to be mixed, as per Pepper's nagging instruction. He was really glad he had only called her at this point.