Succor
Your head pounded.
For once, alcohol hadn’t been the cause of this excruciating headache. From your forehead to your crown, your head ached painfully, nonstop.
It’s been this was since yesterday, or the symptoms have been developing since then. Seldom you got any sleep but last night was especially bad with the nagging ache and ring in your ears. And, the lack of sleep only amplified the pain.
The strenuous battle you fought just to breathe, too. The constant sniffling that came of you was horrible; you were sick and miserable. Almost every bit of your body was fatigued and you were still expected to show up to the weekly team dinner.
This one was special too: it was for a celebration of Nat’s birthday — so obviously you couldn’t miss it. You two were close, never would you want to miss a friend’s party. But with the sickness running through your system and ruining your vibe, it was going to be hard to keep everybody more concerned about the imperfections and flow of the party.
‘Party’ as in, you close teammates having a gathering and catching up. Missions have been a lot recently and this was a day that finally everybody could relax from all of that and find a time to just chat — you couldn’t be the one to ruin that, or be the party pooper of it. So you’d tough it out, one way or another.
Staring in the mirror of your bathroom, you felt some sense of dread creeping up on you: your eyes were red, your face almost sickly, and you were trembling. It was cold, after all. But to pass, looking and feeling like this, was a slim chance. You sniffled and winced.
The casual suit felt all stuffy and suffocating. You did your best to make it as comfortable as possible, but with the rougher-than-you-wanted-it fabric abrading your skin, it was driving you insane. At least it kept you somewhat warmer.
You pocketed a small little packet of tissues and fixed your appearance to the best of your ability, sniffling and shivering miserably the entire time.
You brought the present you picked out along to the community floor of the Tower, where the party was being held, feeling self-conscious almost the second you stepped into the room.
Party streamers, balloons, drinks, platters of food, festive birthday things, were all littered across the living room, kitchen, and hallways of the floor, brightening up the place. It was nearing evening, a cool breeze blew through the Tower, right through you, too, it seemed, cooled and dimmed the floors with the setting sun.
You set the present — just an interesting novel you found and some flowers — along with the others, sniffling while you were alone; not too many people seemed to be here yet, thankfully.
A few chatters sounded from somewhere in the living room and you weren’t exactly eager to go join them, risk the possibility of someone seeing the burning fever, sending you home.
So you went to the kitchen instead and actually found Nat in there, plucking cheese off of a platter in a gorgeous dress.
“You look good,” You commented, doing your best to keep the congestion out of your voice.
Nat’s lips curled into a small smile. “Thanks. Really the only thing I had, not too fond of birthdays.”
“Still look good.” You felt that annoying drip under your nose, naturally needing to wipe it because it was a runny nose.
You awkwardly stepped off, made the rest of the steps out of the kitchen and then down the hall to the bathroom, quickly grabbing a tissue and wiping your nose, then disposing of it.
You looked back into the mirror of this bathroom, seeing your flushed, clammy face. You looked horrible.
You stepped back out and steeled yourself for a long night.
Again, you found yourself in the kitchen a few hours later, away from everyone else. Everybody else was in the living room, chatting around champagne and little snacks from the platters, just relaxing. You, on the other hand, have been cowering in the kitchen along for the past half an hour or so, scrolling through your phone or just pacing.
Your sleeves were unbuttoned, collar loosened just a bit so you could have at least a better chance at breathing. The dizziness has been getting progressively worse — without the help of drinks, too. It’s only been a few hours, and hours more to go.
“Having fun hiding?” Tony’s voice sounded from the doorway, snapping your gaze to him.
You automatically sat up a bit straighter, closed out your AO3 browser. You had the urge to sniffle, feeling the drip, but resisted. Tony’d obviously suspect something was up if you did that.
Tony moved to a bottle of whiskey and refilled his glass, raising his eyebrows.
“I said, having fun hiding? Where’ve you been? Been sitting there, waiting for my bestie to come back.” Tony put on a mock pout, stepping closer and nudging you with an elbow.
“Uhhh…” You trailed off, then cleared your throat best you could while still being casual. What were you supposed to say? The usual banter couldn’t feel as natural when you were trying to hide symptoms that showed literally everywhere.
Tony took a glance at you, a sip of his drink, then another, more assessing glance. So you chuckled as you turned and rubbed your eyes to hide the redness of them.
“Just… taking a break,” You murmured. There was enough truth in it for it not to be a total lie. “Social settings and all.”
“Anxiety? I get that sometimes too. Nice to, uh, take a break.” The unexpected vulnerability startled you into looking at him for a moment.
He didn’t seem too off, just… solemn. “You sick?” Tony then asked.
You half expected the question, finally sniffling. “Yeah,” You responded. He knew, and some part of you felt relief at that, even when another felt that nagging sense of guilt.
“You could’ve called in a rain check, dude. I don’t think the world would’ve held it against you for staying home.” Tony looked over at you with a small smile.
You weakly tried reciprocating it. “Yeah… I just thought it’d be messed up for me to miss Nat’s birthday and all.”
“Mm. Well I’m also sure Nat wouldn’t hold it against you either. Come on, let’s go.” Tony put an arm on your shoulder, pulling you from the stool.
“What? Go where?” You asked.
“Where you belong: in bed. I’ll be the savior of the team if I can get your grubby germs contaminated to your bedroom. Come on.”
You followed Tony shamefully, doing your best to avoid catching any unwanted eyes while you passed.
Tony led the both of you to your floor, right to your bedroom, ordering you into pajamas as he left the room for Tylenol.
You changed, already feeling your shoulders sag when the soft fabric of your pajamas wrapped around you.
The comfortable mattress of your bed felt more than inviting as you climbed onto it.
You hated and loved being cared for. It was warm and bubbly sometimes and others jagged and cold, guilt gnawing. This time felt somewhere in the middle. The way Tony gave you the medicine and filled your bottle of water, asked you if you needed anything else — it was a warm and fluttery feeling, something buddies shouldn’t feel, yet itchy. Your skin itched — why would he do this for you?
Maybe something was wrong with you, for feeling this way and being ungrateful for the care he never seemed to pay to others.
Tony checked your temperature with the back of his palm then patted your shoulder.
“Alright. All good. Time for you to get some shut eye. I’ll check back in later. I’m a text away.”
Tony switched off the lamp light and surrounded you in darkness, closing the door softly behind him when he left.
You assumed Tony would rejoin the party, get more than a little drunk. So you planned to wake up and find a little something to eat then nap some more.
You felt yourself wavering in and out of consciousness for more than a minute, feeling that stuffy nose and shivering cold burr through you. Then you finally lugged yourself up, disoriented. You wiped some slobber from your mouth, smoothed back some of your hair and stood on your wobbly feet.
You could feel the pounding of your head as you walked to the door and left your room. Everything in you was a bit achy -- cold too, your pajamas were a bit thinner than you'd like.
You stepped into your living room to get to the kitchen and paused at the sight of Tony on your couch, perfectly sober, perfectly at ease as he looked through something on his phone. Same clothes, nearly the same expression, he just sat there. He sat there, when he could be at the party, having way more fun there than he could be on your depressing little couch.
Tony looked up at you and his lips quirked. "You look like you've had the best sleep of your life. Feeling any better?" He stood and stretched a bit. How long were you asleep? And how long did he stay?
"Uh, hi," You said, sniffling involuntarily.
Now you really felt bad. You kept him from having fun, getting drunk and laughing his ass off with friends instead of being with you. Where'd this sickness even come from? And why was it now? Now was such a bad time.
"Uh, hi, yeah. Hungry? I could order out if you'd like that. Except I don't think processed foods is what your poor body needs, so maybe not. Do you have stuff here? Preferably something easy to whip up because I'm definitely no chef." Tony left the living area to the kitchen, so unbothered. He had to be covering the resentment for making him miss Nat's party.
You followed reluctantly.
He was at your fridge, scouring through the contents. You sat idly by at the island, the cool metal of the stool seeping through the fabric of your pajamas and chilling you. It was cold, you were cold.
"Mmm. Not much of a foody? Not what I expected, not what I expected...."
Tony turned and elbowed the fridge shut, sliding his phone back out of his pocket.
"What sounds good then?" asked Tony, already scrolling through options of foods on what looked to be Yelp.
"Uhhhhh...." Not much sounded good to you in this state but your stomach did feel emptier.
"If you don't choose I'm picking," Tony murmured.
You shrugged. "Go ahead then."
"Panera it is. Some soup for your little tummy." Tony smiled to himself and you rolled your eyes.
Every time you sniffled it felt like you were disturbing something. The silence felt rippled every time, or Tony. Every time you made a small noise indicating that you were sick, all you could do was imagine how annoyed Tony was. He had to miss out of fun because you were sick....
"Alright. All ordered." Tony set his phone aside, moving back to your side. He had a look of concern. You didn't like that look on him much, especially when he was looking at you with it. He felt around your face, warm hands pressing to your skin. They warmed you up a bit. "Still warm.... You sickly thing. Let's go get a bed set up on the couch, get comfy, watch some movies."
Tony led you from the kitchen. Almost like you were being babied by him, every time he set a hand on you to steady you, handed you a tissue, felt your forehead, or looked at you with concern, it was like he was babying you. Maybe he was coddling you to be spiteful. It would make sense, to have a grudge -- especially against you.
Tony grabbed a sheet from a cupboard and spread it out on the couch, took some pillows and other blankets and made a little bed for you on the couch. It was like you didn't want to lay in it because it felt like Tony was doing this spitefully, hiding his petulance because being like this was more fun. Get you all cozied up then reveal his true intentions. You quite hated yourself for thinking he'd do anything like this. He wasn't a bad person, you were.
You sat. He sat. It felt close. Drawing blankets over yourself and burying your senses in the feel and smell of them because they were familiar and soothing, Tony asked, "What's on movie table? Any recommendations?"
A few things came to mind, but to force him into watching something you wanted to while he was already here felt wrong. So you shrugged and told him no.
"Haven't been watching anything interesting lately?" He responded, pulling a frowny face.
Tony turned on The Office and relaxed back into the couch.
You tried to; you were cold.
Eyes staying glued to the screen but not really watching the show, you felt a little startled when Tony leaned over and asked, "Cold? You're shivering. I didn't find any other blankets in the cupboard and the ones on your bed seemed to like their spot there."
"I... cold, yeah," was all you could say in response, unable to bring yourself to look over at him.
"Something up?" Tony lowered his voice a bit.
"No. Just cold."
"You look seriously guilty. What'd you do?"
The words could make you shiver again but you were focusing on the scent of your blanket to calm yourself down. Were you really all that obvious?
"Nothing."
"Then why are you looking at the tv like that?"
You swallowed. "I... made you miss Nat's birthday," You murmured, feeling that pang of embarrassment for letting somebody else hear those thoughts.
"And? You're sick. I can't let you go germing up the place, and somebody needs to take care of you."
"But it's...." It felt impossible to explain. The overbearing weight that you could feel at the bottom of your stomach when you cause others trouble or became a bother to be around.
"I want to make sure you're okay," Tony added softly.
"Yeah -- and, thank you, but -- but I was the reason you didn't go."
"You were."
"So it's my fault you're missing out. It's my fault you're stuck on my couch watching The Office instead of partying and seeing Nat happy."
"Technically. But again, who's holding it against you? You're sick, Y/n. I want to take care of you."
The words bounced around in your head, almost like your brain couldn't fully suck it in and saturate the relief, or comfort.
Tony scooted closer and put an arm on the couch behind you. "You look like a marshmallow in those blankets," he said, poking a finger to the side of you.
You looked over at him and felt the smile tug at your lips. He looked genuine. He felt warm.
He leaned down and kissed your hair. It was sudden and random, something friends didn't do on the regular, but it spread that warmth he emitted to your chest, made you shiver but not from the cold. You took it as the green flag to scoot a little closer to him and let him wrap an arm around you.
Tony smiled so you did, staying close and relaxing together for once. Some part of this was obviously different, but most of it felt like it always has been: just the two of you.