The sound of explosions echoed through the city, sending waves of smoke and debris into the air. Tony Stark soared above the chaos in his Iron Man suit, scanning the streets below for more hostiles. His focus, however, was not entirely on the battle at hand. He winced, shifting uncomfortably in his suit.
"Okay, Jarvis, you sure the filtration system is offline?" Tony muttered under his breath, even as he fired a repulsor blast at an approaching alien drone.
"Yes, sir. I have tried rerouting the system three times, but the filtration remains non-functional," Jarvis replied coolly in his earpiece.
Tony gritted his teeth, feeling the pressure build in his bladder. "Fantastic. Why now of all times?"
He swooped down to join the others, landing beside Captain America, who was hurling his shield at an enemy. Clint Barton, perched on a nearby ledge, was taking out targets with pinpoint accuracy, and Natasha Romanoff was in the thick of the fight, delivering precise blows to their enemies.
"Hey, Cap, listen, I need a little break," Tony called over the noise, a slight edge of desperation in his voice. "Just a minute or two!"
Steve Rogers turned to him, raising an eyebrow as he caught his shield on the rebound. "In case you haven't noticed, we're a little busy right now, Stark," he replied, nodding toward the approaching reinforcements.
"No, seriously, I—" Tony's voice faltered as he dodged a burst of energy from a hostile alien. He returned fire quickly, then continued, "I have a... small issue with my suit's, uh, internal systems."
Steve gave him a suspicious look. "What's the problem? Is it critical?"
Tony hesitated, then blurted, "I need to pee, okay? My filtration system's busted, and I really, really need to—"
Steve's expression remained deadpan. "You're telling me you need a time-out in the middle of an alien invasion?"
"Yes! It's not a choice, Cap, it's nature!" Tony groaned, shifting from foot to foot.
Clint’s voice crackled over the comms, clearly amused. "Hey, Tin Man, are you saying the mighty Iron Man can't hold it?"
"Clint, I swear, if you keep talking, I will personally find a way to make your bow jam up. This is serious!" Tony snapped, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt.
Natasha, hearing the exchange, chimed in. "Tony, I suggest you focus on the fight. This will be over soon enough."
"Soon? Easy for you to say, Romanoff," Tony muttered, ducking as a blast narrowly missed his head. He winced again as his bladder protested against the continued delay. "I don't know if I have 'soon' in me!"
Tony gritted his teeth as he launched another repulsor blast, feeling the pressure in his bladder reaching critical levels. He shot back up into the sky, hoping that maybe a few seconds away from the ground would give him some relief, but even the cool wind rushing past him couldn’t ease his discomfort.
He tried again, switching to a private channel with Steve. "Look, Cap, I get that we’re kind of saving the world right now, but I’m one step away from a very embarrassing situation in here. Just cover me for sixty seconds. Please."
Steve sighed, parrying an enemy’s strike with his shield. "Tony, I’m not letting you take a break to... you know. We need you up here. You’ll just have to hold it."
"Hold it? That’s your advice? You’re really going to pull the Boy Scout routine now?" Tony retorted, frustration creeping into his voice. He glanced down, noticing more alien ships descending on their location. There was no end in sight.
Clint, who clearly hadn’t switched off the main channel, was back to teasing. "Hey, Stark, think of waterfalls. Big, rushing waterfalls, flowing rivers—"
"Clint, I’m going to put you on the naughty list if you don’t stop," Tony growled. He shifted again inside his suit, feeling the discomfort spread through his whole body.
Natasha’s voice cut through the chatter, smooth and calm. "Focus, Tony. The faster we take these guys out, the faster you can... relieve yourself."
"Great plan, Nat, but have you ever tried aiming repulsors with a full bladder? Not exactly peak performance here!" Tony snapped, firing a volley at an enemy ship. He couldn’t even focus on the satisfying explosion as it crashed to the ground—every nerve in his body was screaming for him to find a restroom.
The battle raged on, the Avengers working in a seamless flow, taking down enemies one after another. But Tony’s mind was barely in it. He could feel sweat forming on his brow, partly from the effort of maintaining his concentration, and partly from the growing fear that he might actually not make it through this fight without... well, an incident.
He decided to try a different approach. "Jarvis, run a scan for the nearest public restroom."
"Sir, this is highly inadvisable—" Jarvis started.
"Do it!"
A few seconds later, Jarvis replied, "There is a public restroom approximately 300 meters west of your location. However, I must remind you—"
"I don’t need a reminder, I need a solution!" Tony snapped, but before he could alter his course, a new wave of enemies appeared on his HUD. More drones, and a massive alien mech stomping down the street. "Oh, come on! Are they spawning new enemies just to keep me from peeing?"
He blasted towards the mech, unloading everything his suit had to offer, but the strain made him wince. "This is the worst day of my life," he muttered, as his desperate dance continued.
Steve landed beside him, having just cleared out a street. He gave Tony a long-suffering look. "You’re still on about this? It’s just a little longer, Tony. Man up."
Tony threw up his hands. "Easy for you to say! You don’t have a super suit that’s supposed to take care of this! Mine’s failing me! Do you know how ironic that is? Me, the guy with a suit for every problem, and I can’t even handle this."
Steve’s expression softened, just slightly. "Okay, look, I get it, but right now, the team needs you. Just... try to stay focused."
Before Tony could argue further, the alien mech roared to life and took a swing at them. Steve deflected its punch with his shield, while Tony blasted at its head. For a moment, the intense fighting forced him to forget about his problem—until the mech crashed into a fire hydrant, sending a stream of water shooting into the air.
Tony froze mid-flight, his eyes widening behind his helmet as the sight of the gushing water hit him like a cruel joke. "Oh, come on! Really?"
Clint, from his sniper nest, couldn’t resist chiming in again. "Looks like even the city’s getting in on this. Maybe you should ask the mech if you can swap places."
"That’s it. I’m going to reprogram your arrows to shoot backwards, Barton," Tony muttered, but his voice was wavering with desperation now. He shifted from foot to foot again, even in mid-air, trying to hold on just a little longer.
Natasha swooped in on her motorcycle, skidding to a stop near Steve and Tony. She took in the scene, the fire hydrant, and Tony’s strained expression. "Alright, Stark. How bad is it, really?"
Tony threw his hands up. "On a scale of one to catastrophic failure? It’s a ten, Nat. It’s a ten!"
Natasha rolled her eyes but then nodded, her expression slightly more sympathetic. "Fine. Steve, cover him for a minute. We’ll deal with the ground forces."
Tony could have hugged her, if he weren’t struggling to maintain control. He shot Steve a hopeful look, but the Captain was still reluctant. "Just make it quick, Tony. We don’t have time for—"
"I’m going! I’m going!" Tony shot off towards the nearest alleyway, the alien mech momentarily forgotten. He had never flown so fast in his life, making a beeline for the corner where Jarvis had detected the restroom. He reached the building, but as he landed, a shrill alarm sounded in his suit.
"Sir, an enemy drone is on your tail. I strongly advise—"
"No, no, not now, Jarvis! I’m not letting this moment be taken away from me!" Tony exclaimed, clenching his fists.
Just as he was about to reach for the restroom door, the drone swooped down, firing a burst of energy that scorched the pavement beside him. Tony barely managed to duck out of the way, firing off a repulsor blast that sent the drone spiraling into a wall.
"Okay, problem solved. Now, please, just one minute—" Tony muttered as he reached for the door, but he was interrupted again by the crackle of Steve’s voice over the comms.
"Stark! We need you back here, now!"
Tony looked back over his shoulder, seeing Steve struggling against the mech, and Natasha and Clint dealing with another swarm of alien foot soldiers. He groaned, clenching his fists, feeling like he might just cry from sheer frustration. "I’m going to remember this, Rogers. I swear, the next time you have a problem, I’m making it my problem."
He rocketed back into the fray, leaving the restroom door swinging shut behind him.
As he joined the fight again, he fired off a particularly angry blast at the mech’s head, smashing it to pieces. Steve looked at him, surprised by the sudden burst of energy. "See? You’re doing fine, Tony!"
Tony glared at him through his helmet. "Yeah, well, don’t be surprised if I suddenly leave you high and dry next time, Cap."
"Funny choice of words, considering the situation," Clint added.
"That’s it. I’m making a list, and you’re all going on it," Tony grumbled as he blasted another drone. He clenched his teeth, hoping that somehow, against all odds, he could last just a little longer. But as he fired another shot, he couldn’t help but feel like this was a battle he might not win—at least not against his bladder.
Tony continued to fire on all cylinders, blasting away at the drones and foot soldiers that kept swarming the streets. He even managed to take out another alien drone that swooped too close to Natasha’s position, buying her a few seconds to reload her pistols. But inside the suit, it felt like a ticking time bomb, and the timer was counting down faster than ever.
The physical strain was bad enough, but the mental toll was even worse. Every blast from his repulsors, every kick and maneuver, sent shockwaves through his already tense body, each jolt making him wince. He could practically hear Clint’s smug tone in his head, whispering Waterfalls, Stark. Waterfalls. He shook his head furiously, trying to block out the thought.
He spotted Steve struggling with another pair of drones and swooped down beside him, unloading a barrage of shots that sent the mechanical enemies crashing to the ground.
"Nice work, Tony," Steve said, a hint of relief in his voice as he straightened up. But Tony wasn’t feeling charitable.
"Yeah, yeah, don't thank me yet. I’m still in serious need of a bathroom break, and I’m not above making this your problem," Tony replied, barely managing to keep the edge of desperation out of his voice. "So unless you want me to ruin the interior of this suit, I suggest we wrap this up."
Steve shook his head, trying to keep his patience. "Tony, you’re an Avenger. You can handle a little discomfort."
Tony threw up his hands. "Easy for you to say! Super Soldier serum gives you the bladder control of a camel!" He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the distant alleyway where his one shot at relief lay, and it looked so close and yet so far. "All I’m asking for is—"
But before he could finish, a massive shadow fell over him, and he turned just in time to see a larger alien craft descending over the block. It hovered in the air, projecting a harsh, green light that sent waves of drones and foot soldiers pouring into the street below.
Tony’s heart sank. "Of course. Reinforcements. Why not? Just throw it all at us!" He barely dodged a blast of energy from the ship, twisting out of the way and retaliating with a barrage of missiles.
Natasha, leaping off her motorcycle and landing nimbly beside him, spared him a glance. "Forget about your break, Stark. We’re in this until the end."
"I’m not sure my bladder got that memo!" Tony shouted back, but he couldn’t ignore the urgency in her voice. Even in his desperation, he knew the stakes. If they didn’t stop this latest wave, the city wouldn’t stand a chance.
He gritted his teeth and poured his remaining energy into the fight, trying to shove aside his discomfort. But the more he fought, the more the urgency clawed at him. He couldn’t keep from fidgeting, even as he fired off shots and directed his suit through tight turns. Every time he twisted in mid-air or planted his feet on the ground to brace for impact, it took everything in him not to buckle from the pressure.
Up on a nearby rooftop, Clint watched the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "You know, Tony, this could all be over if you just let nature take its course."
"That’s it, Barton, I’m officially—" Tony’s retort was cut off as another drone fired a shot that sent him tumbling through the air. He righted himself just in time, firing back, but the sudden movement made his bladder clench painfully, and for a moment, he thought he might actually lose the battle right then and there.
Clint chuckled over the comms. "Hey, just trying to help. If you’re that desperate, maybe we can make a little detour and—"
"No detours!" Natasha snapped, her voice sharp as she sliced through another enemy. "Focus on the mission, Clint. Tony, stop complaining. We’ll get through this."
Tony could hardly believe his ears. "Complaining? This is me suffering in silence, Romanoff!" He huffed out a breath, but his bravado was starting to wear thin. He fired another blast at the alien craft, but his hands were shaking. "I’m really not sure how much longer I can—"
"Tony!" Steve’s voice cut through, a new urgency in his tone. "Behind you!"
Tony whipped around just in time to see a drone streaking towards him, energy weapons charging up. He threw up his arms, deflecting the blast, but the impact sent him crashing through a storefront window. Glass shattered around him as he tumbled inside, landing on his back amidst a display of mannequins.
For a second, he just lay there, breathing heavily, pain and discomfort mingling into one miserable knot in his chest. He pushed himself up, brushing glass off his suit, and surveyed the ruined store around him. His HUD flickered with warnings, but all he could think about was how much he just wanted this battle—and this problem—to be over.
He heard Steve’s voice in his earpiece again, but this time it sounded almost... concerned. "Tony, you okay? We could use you back out here."
Tony groaned, sitting up and running a hand over his helmet. "Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just had a little... mishap. I’ll be right there." He glanced around, spotting the remains of what looked like a restroom sign at the back of the store. He stood up, wobbling slightly on his feet. "But first, I’m making a pit stop."
"Tony, now’s not the time to—" Steve began, but Tony cut him off.
"I don’t care! I’ll be back in thirty seconds, Cap. You can handle things for that long," Tony shot back, already moving towards the sign. He wove through the debris-strewn aisles, almost giddy with relief as he reached the restroom door. He practically threw himself against it, fumbling with the suit’s manual release mechanisms.
But just as he finally got the door open, another explosion rocked the building, sending debris crashing down from the ceiling. Tony stumbled back, looking up in dismay as the restroom caved in under the weight of the collapsing floor above.
"You have got to be kidding me!" he shouted to no one in particular, his voice echoing in the ruined store.
A moment later, Clint’s voice crackled through the comms. "Guess that pit stop didn’t work out, huh, Tony?"
Tony clenched his fists, feeling a surge of fury overtake his desperation. "I swear, Barton, you’re lucky I’m too focused on not having an accident to come up there and throttle you right now!"
Natasha’s voice came back over the line, calm and practical as ever. "Tony, get back in the fight. We’re almost through this."
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew they were right—no matter how uncomfortable he was, he couldn’t let the team down. So he clenched his jaw, ignored the throbbing in his bladder, and shot back up through the hole in the ceiling, rejoining the battle outside.
He re-entered the fray with a vengeance, pouring his frustration into every shot. The others noticed, and for once, Clint’s teasing stopped, replaced by focused encouragement as they pushed back against the alien horde.
The battle dragged on for what felt like an eternity, but finally, the last of the alien forces began to retreat. The giant craft lifted off, trailing smoke, and the remaining drones scattered into the sky. Tony barely noticed, too focused on making sure that the last of them were driven away.
Finally, the streets fell quiet. Tony hovered above the battlefield, breathing heavily, his whole body tense and shaky. The others gathered below, catching their breath.
"Nice work, team," Steve said, wiping sweat from his brow. He looked up at Tony, a small, relieved smile on his face. "And good job hanging in there, Tony. I know that wasn’t easy."
Tony managed a weak laugh, but it came out more like a desperate gasp. "Yeah, easy. That’s definitely the word I’d use." His voice was strained, and he could feel the last vestiges of his control slipping. He had held on through the battle, but now that the adrenaline was fading, the situation was rapidly becoming critical.
Natasha and Clint joined Steve, all three of them looking up at Tony as he hovered above them. Clint raised a hand, still managing a smirk despite the battle's toll. "You look like you’re about to pop, Stark. Better get moving before—"
But Tony didn’t move. He couldn’t. He felt the last bit of his strength give out as his legs buckled slightly inside the suit, his whole body trembling. He tried to activate his thrusters, to get to the nearest building, anywhere away from the others, but his hands wouldn’t respond. His face burned with embarrassment beneath the helmet as he realized what was about to happen.
"No, no, no, no—" he muttered to himself, but his voice was tight with panic.
Clint, still joking, tilted his head in confusion. "What’s the holdup, Tin Man? You can’t—" But then his expression shifted as realization dawned on him.
Natasha’s eyes widened as she caught on too. "Tony, you need to—"
But it was too late. With a shuddering sigh, Tony felt his control finally give way. Warmth spread through the inside of the suit, and his shoulders slumped as the humiliation crashed over him like a wave. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to meet the others’ gaze even through the helmet.
The comms went silent for a moment as the three Avengers processed what had just happened. Then Clint’s voice, sounding a little too high-pitched, broke the silence. "Oh... oh, wow. Uh, Tony—"
"Don’t," Tony bit out, his voice cracking. He didn’t even know who he was talking to, or if he was trying to convince himself. He squeezed his fists inside the gauntlets, but the gesture felt hollow. "Just... don’t."
Steve, ever the leader, tried to muster up some kind of sympathy, but he was clearly struggling to find the right words. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Tony, it’s... it’s okay. You’ve been through a lot today. Nobody’s going to... judge you for this."
But the words rang hollow, even to Tony’s ears. He knew Steve was trying to be kind, but the embarrassment felt like it was burning through the suit’s metal plating. He turned away slightly, still hovering a few feet off the ground, hoping the others would just let him have a moment.
But Clint, despite his attempts to keep a straight face, couldn’t quite contain a snicker. "You know, Tony, if it makes you feel better, this is definitely one for the record books. ‘Most embarrassing Avenger moment’ might just have a new champion."
Tony shot him a glare through the helmet, the shame quickly turning into anger. "Clint, I swear to god, if you say one more word—"
Natasha stepped in, her tone firm and no-nonsense. "Clint, back off." She looked up at Tony, her expression softening. "Tony, it’s over. Let’s just get back to base, okay? We can put this behind us."
Tony took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. But even as he nodded, the humiliation lingered, a knot of heat in his chest. He forced himself to hover down to the ground, joining the others. His boots hit the pavement with a thud, and he kept his eyes trained on the ground, not daring to look any of them in the face.
Steve placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder, the gesture meant to be comforting, but Tony just shrugged him off, feeling too raw to accept the gesture. "Let’s just... let’s get out of here," he muttered, his voice rough with embarrassment.
Natasha gave him a small nod, and even Clint, for all his teasing, managed to keep quiet for once. They turned and began to walk towards the Quinjet, leaving the ruined city behind.
As Tony trailed behind them, he kept his gaze fixed on the ground, replaying the moment over and over in his mind. He knew that Clint would probably make a joke about it later, that Steve would try to reassure him again, and that Natasha would never mention it—but none of that would make him feel any better. The only silver lining was that the battle was over, and he could finally find a place to hide away until he could face them again.
And as they boarded the Quinjet and took off into the sky, Tony couldn’t help but think that maybe next time, he’d invest in a few more backup filtration systems.