[There's a softness in Steve's gaze when he looks at Tony, a vulnerability that he's tried hard to hide all these years exposed like a raw nerve. A chink in his metaphorical armor. He feels like he's wearing his emotions on his sleeve, and it scares the hell out of him, especially when he knows just how fragile Tony is, and how much of his own well-being rests on him.]

Tony, do you honestly think you can even walk right now? [The question is dry, and the look he gives Tony says that he shouldn't even think about trying because Steve will sit on him to keep him in bed if he has to. Somehow, Steve's not surprised that Tony's a terrible patient.]

I don't think they'll let me go home, and you're worse off than I am. [Probably. He's not completely sure about that; they might be equally bad in different ways. Steve definitely isn't mentioning how easily fatigued he is right now; he can't walk for long. It's a lot like the old days, and, same as he used to, he keeps pushing himself more than he ought to.]