He hates not being able to see for so many reasons, but this is an example of one of them. Whoever it is is going something to his hand and he has no idea what it is. It's disturbing and alarming and he—Oh. Oh.

"Steve?" His other hand, still holding the soft thing, comes up to pat his chest, and the muscle beneath his hand certainly feels like Steve. "Jesus, we're a mess, aren't we?"

Even though he can't see Steve's expression, he knows that Steve can see his, so gives him a crooked smile. "Are you okay? Tap my hand once for yes and twice for no."