New MCU Story: Three Cheers... (PG-13) (Part One)

Three Cheers for the Great Outdoors

Summary:

By the summer of 2019, Tony had fought terrorists, Asgardian gods, space leviathans, Hydra goons, supersoldiers, and giant purple aliens with delusions of grandeur — and had narrowly cheated death every time.

This story isn’t about one of those epic battles, though. This story is about that time Mother Nature tried to kill him — and how Tony dealt with the aftermath. 

(Did I dream up this scenario as an excuse to write Tony whump? Why yes, yes I did.)

I

Tony probably should’ve pulled the emergency cord the moment he walked face first into a wall.

In his defense, though, it wasn't the first time his eyesight had ever gone completely FUBAR. He’d had crippling migraines on the semiregular since his first year at MIT — and those usually came with auras that filled his left visual field with pretty sparkles and played Alice in Wonderland with his depth perception. Hell, even the puking was part of the standard package. Can you blame a guy for thinking, at first, that he was dealing with the damnably routine?

Tony gagged on the taste of metal that flooded his mouth and spat red on the bathroom tile. After yet one more offering to the porcelain god, he’d lost his balance and probably cracked a tooth or two on the rim of the bathtub. And now? Now he could barely move. Now he could barely breathe. 

“Pep?” The plea was ragged and weak, and Tony gasped, desperate to suck more air into his steadily tightening chest. He scrabbled for purchase on the blessedly cool floor as his old friend Panic threatened to make an untimely - and unwanted - appearance. “Pep?”

Yep, he realized as a wave of dizziness hit and the world tilted. Fucked up again.

--*--

In the bedroom, Pepper stirred and rolled over, reaching out for her husband’s arm. When her hand met nothing but air and sweat-soaked sheets, a surge of concern yanked her all the way to full consciousness.

Sitting up, she noticed the light in the en suite was on, smelled the tang of bile in the air, and sighed. To be sure, Tony’s communication skills had improved markedly since he’d started working with Dr. Nolan. Indeed, when they’d gone to bed hours before, he’d quite frankly - and colorfully - admitted that his head was killing him and he felt “like shit warmed over”. But that old obstinacy? That once unshakeable conviction that he could gut things out just fine thanks please go to sleep honey? Well — that was just one reason why everyone who knew Tony dubbed him a work in progress. Sometimes he was willing to accept comfort. And sometimes —

Grabbing a rubber band from her nightstand, Pepper hastily pulled her hair back, shoved her blanket off her legs, and padded, barefoot, towards the bathroom. “Tony?” she called, gently knocking. “I’m coming in.”

A nightmare met Pepper’s eyes the instant the door swung open.

“Oh, God!” Her knees hitting the deck, her heart pounding, Pepper touched Tony’s crumpled form. She almost sobbed in relief when her husband moaned in response.

“Sorry. Fell.” Tony attempted to push himself up, wheezing, his arms shaking violently underneath his weight. Pepper immediately grabbed him by his armpits and hauled him up, leaning him carefully against the wall. He was a hot water bottle in her hands — and disturbingly fragile.

Blood trickled from Tony’s lips, speckling his beard and staining his tank . “Can’t —” Tony rasped. “Can’t —”

“Shh. Easy.” Pepper caressed Tony’s cheek — and winced. “God, Tony, you’re boiling. FRIDAY?”

A beat passed as the AI consulted Tony’s transdermal monitor. “Respiration, 25 breaths per minute. Pulse, 110 beats per minute. Current temperature, 101 degrees Fahrenheit — and the recent trend suggests it’s climbing.”

Pepper combed through Tony’s greasy curls with her fingers. “Why didn’t you let FRIDAY wake me up?” She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she still felt compelled to ask.

“Thought it was — jus’ a headache.” Uh huh, that was exactly what Pepper expected. The idiot. Eyes red and glassy, Tony favored his wife with a somewhat guilty look, apparently picking up on her train of thought. “Sorry.”

Pepper grabbed the towel that dangled off the edge of the sink behind her and mopped off Tony’s face. “I’ll yell at you later,” she said. “After we get you to the ER.”

At that, fingernails raked Pepper’s arm. “Pep —”

“No. No argument.” Tony’s mouth turned down in a frown, and Pepper sighed again. “I know, Tony. I know you hate the hospital. But I don’t think this is something you can knock down with my Motrin.”

“No. ‘M a big boy.”

Pepper smiled sadly. “Yeah, I know that too. Should I call the ambulance, or do you think you can walk?”

--*--

“No drama,” Tony insisted, shaking his head. “Jus’ need a boost.”

Somehow, despite his aching limbs and his shortness of breath, Tony found a second wind and managed to pull himself upright with Pepper’s help. Somehow, despite the dangerous sway of the floor beneath his feet, he managed not to tip over once again. 

Leaning heavily against the sink, he peered blearily at his reflection in the mirror, opening his mouth and running his tongue along his incisors. Yay, he thought with distant irony. Need three new implants there, Sloth. Fun.

“Come on.” Pepper wrapped her arm around his shoulders and steered him back out of the bathroom. Once she’d safely plopped him onto the bed, she rubbed tender hands down his arms. “I’m gonna get you a few things. Just lie down and relax, okay?”

Tony did — sort of. Going horizontal was the easy part; chilling was much more difficult. Not being able to completely fill his lungs was bringing up memories that were triggering as fuck, and the usual Jedi mind tricks were only just keeping him on this side of losing it.

“Boss?” FRIDAY cut in. “I have Colonel Rhodes on the line.”

“Good girl,” Tony grunted into his pillow. “Put him through.” Above his alarm clock, a blue hologram flashed on. Tony’s eyes watered and slammed shut against the ice picks that suddenly drilled their way through to his frontal lobes. “Ugh. FRI, dial it back.”

“Hey, Tones. I hear you’re not doing too great.”

In years past, Tony would’ve bitched about his traitorous, blabbermouth AI. Tonight, though? Tonight he just didn’t have the strength for fronts. “Don’ know what it is,” he replied, and shit, he couldn’t quite stop his chin from quivering. “But it’s kicking my ass, Platypus.”

“I’m gonna take him in, Rhodey.”  Tony felt the bed dip as Pepper sat down beside him. “Can you come over and watch Morgan?”

“No problem. Be there in an hour.” The hologram closed with a cheerful beep.

Pepper pressed a cool washcloth against Tony’s forehead, and Tony shivered.

--*--

By the time Rhodey knocked on Tony’s front door, Pepper had gotten Tony changed into clean, comfortable clothes and had slipped on his shoes. Getting him out of their cabin, however, was another matter entirely.

“Can you help?” she asked Rhodey, and Rhodey obliged, clumping up to meet Tony in his bedroom. After taking in Tony's pallor - and with a grace born from decades of practice - he ducked under Tony’s arm to support his friend's trembling frame.

“Anything to get me to hold you, huh buddy?” Rhodey cracked, trying to keep it light.

“Yep,” Tony panted. “Figured me out. Always want you to hold me.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “Why? Why do you always have to make it weird?”

“Cuz you love me,” Tony retorted before dissolving into an extended coughing fit.

“Yeah, unfortunately. All right, you chaos gremlin: one foot in front of the other.”

Slowly - torturously - they made their way down the stairs and out onto the driveway. There, Pepper rushed up to meet them, stepping in to support Tony’s other arm as he limped towards the car. Ten yards. Five yards. Two —

“Fuck.”

Rhodey stopped, on alert. “What’s wrong?”

Tony slumped and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Gonna barf.”

Rhodey and Pepper traded a look above Tony’s head. “Okay. It’s okay, Tony,” Pepper soothed. “We’ve got you. Ease him down, Rhodey.”

As Tony rode out the mostly dry heaves, dribbling pink-tinged saliva and acid onto the dirt below, Rhodey rested one silver gauntlet on the other man’s shoulder, pressing down to keep him grounded. After years of bad hangovers and countless illnesses, none of this was new. Still, he felt a little awkward as he watched Pepper massage her husband’s back and whisper in his ear — like he was intruding on something exceedingly intimate.

Once Tony’s stomach had finally settled, Pepper reached into her purse for a tissue, dabbed at the corners of Tony’s eyes, and then handed the tissue over so Tony could wipe his mouth. “Ready?”

Breath hitching, Tony nodded, grabbing onto Rhodey's armor as he tried to get to his feet. Tried — and failed.

“Tony?”

Tony’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, out cold.  

--*--

“Mr. Stark? You with us?”

The familiar scent of pressurized oxygen hit Tony’s nostrils, rousing Tony from his torpor. He blinked, trying to resolve the doubled, blurry image of the paramedic kneeling next to him into something more clear and defined.

Gravel dug into Tony’s back, tiny pinpoints of pain catalogued with the ache in his sternum, the sting of his broken front teeth, and the agony that flared in his skull. And were those trees and stars and flashing lights that swung above him in time with the pounding in his temples? Strange. What were those doing in his bedroom? Why was the outside inside? Had the whole universe been inverted? What the hell was going on?  And what was that sound? Was that his daughter screaming?

Tony grabbed at the mask that covered his mouth and nose and pulled it off. “Morgan?” He struggled to rise, but it was no use. Some asshole was holding him down. The bastard. Why wouldn’t he let go? Why wouldn’t he let Tony get to his kid? She could be hurt. She could be —

“Hey, hey. Take it easy, sir. Keep the oxygen on.” 

“Morgan —” Tony batted the man’s arm away, determined. “I need — I have to —”

Someone took hold of Tony’s hand and squeezed it tight. “It’s okay, Tony.” Pepper. “Rhodey’s got Morgan. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“She’s crying,” Tony slurred, then grimaced as an alarm blared beside his right ear. “Can’t you hear it? I have to —”

“No, Tony.” Pepper was afraid. Tony could hear it in her voice. Why was she afraid? “She’s asleep in her crib. Rhodey’s watching her. I promise.”

“Temp’s spiking to 104,” said the uniformed blob. “I think we need to step on it. And tell Rick to break out the ice packs so we can stop the guy’s brain from bubbling over.”

Yes, good. Protect the gray matter. Yes. But why? Brain and brain. What is brain? Oh, that’s right. It’s something important, goofy Star Trek lady. Supergenius Tony Stark needed his brain — for some reason. Why couldn’t he remember the reason? 

A hysterical laugh bubbled up Tony’s throat — but quickly converted into a hacking cough. Swift, disembodied digits intervened, replacing the mask and tightening the elastic around his ears.

Then Tony felt himself being lifted — felt himself being deposited onto something soft.

He closed his eyes, retreating into merciful oblivion. 

Next