“S’mthing’s wrong."

Steve and Bucky sat patiently in their room, waiting for Tony to wake up. He seemed normal enough. His breathing was even, his heart rate steady, and his skin a healthy pink. But there was something they were missing and whether Tony was receptive or not, they were going to do everything in their power to help him.

Tony woke up a little over three hours later. His head was still throbbing and his vision had small stars along the edges. Fucking migraine. He thought. Before he could even think about getting his medicine, Steve appeared in his line of sight. “Hey, Tones.” Steve kissed his hairline, “We’ve gotta talk about last night.”

“Mhm.” Tony hummed. He wasn’t really in the mood to discuss whatever drunken shenanigans he’d gotten into but it was clear that Steve and Bucky weren’t going to let him be until he did.

“You really scared us last night Tony.” Bucky had moved from the armchair where he’d been reading to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Okay, I know I got fucked up, but was it really that bad? I drank too much, so what?” He groaned. “Fuck.”

“Tony, what’s wrong?” Steve placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Headache. I’m fine. Why’re you two so worked up right now? You’ve been looking at me like I’m dying all day.”

“Because Tony,” Bucky’s breath shook a little on the inhale. “You weren’t drunk last night.”

“What?” The longer they were talking the worse his head hurt. Confusion wasn’t helping.

“You were having a panic attack and I couldn’t calm you down and then Steve came and he couldn’t calm you down either and then the next thing we knew you passed out.” Bucky rambled.

“And when you woke up…" Steve shook his head, "Tony really don’t remember any of that?”

“Not at all.” Tony huffed. “Is this some sort of prank to get me not to drink again? Cause it’s kinda fucked up.” Jesus, he needed this to be over.

“Tony this is serious,” Steve told him solemnly.

“We’re worried about you,” Bucky said. “Just tell us what’s wrong.”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. “Look, I don’t know what happened last night and that’s the honest-to-God truth, but right now I’ve got a migraine and my head is killing me so can we table this conversation?”

“Oh, baby,” Bucky cooed.

Steve was up immediately and seconds later came back with Tony's Imitrex. “Just a little pinch, okay love?” Tony didn’t even feel the needle go in, but he prayed the medicine would work fast. Now that the migraine had started, he didn’t think it would stop anytime soon.

Bucky helped him lay back and Tony buried his head in Bucky’s side trying to block out as much light as possible. Bucky reached up and switched off the lamp on the bedside table while Steve closed the blinds. Bucky rested his vibrainium hand on the back of Tony’s neck. Tony sighed at the slight relief the coolness brought him. He felt Steve’s weight as he laid on the bed next to them, running his hand up and down Tony’s arm to comfort him through the pain.

Steve kept his voice low for Tony’s sake, only loud enough for Bucky’s super-hearing to pick up. “Migraine would explain the confusion.”

“And the panic attack. He’s always a little more on edge when his head hurts.” Tony whimpered and Bucky kissed his temple gently. 

Steve frowned. “It sucks that he’s hurting, but at least now we have an explanation.”

Bucky hummed in agreement. Tony continued to try and get comfortable, but it seemed like they’d injected him too late. Tony pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to push the pain away.

“Can’t see.” He murmured when he blinked his eyes open.

“I’m sorry, doll.” Bucky whispered. “Just lay here with us and we’ll take care of you.”

“Hurts.”

“We know, baby. You just have to ride it out.” Steve reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out some earplugs, hoping it would offer him a little more relief. He seemed to relax ever so slightly once they were in. It took over an hour and lots of whining, but eventually Tony managed to fall into a fitful sleep, still groaning as his body fought the migraine. But the nap was short-lived. He woke up and blinked frantically, eyes unseeing. He tried to speak, but all that came out was slurred gibberish before he threw up all over himself, Bucky, and the blankets.

“Oh, Tony.” Steve scooped him up effortlessly and carried him to the bathroom, setting him in front of the toilet just in time for him to throw up again. When he was done, Steve stripped him down to his boxers and handed his soiled clothes off to Bucky who was gathering his own clothes and the sheets for the wash. Tony gripped the rim of the toilet seat so hard his knuckles were white. “You done?”

“No,” he whined pitifully.

“Okay. That’s okay. I got you.” Steve started rubbing up and down his back cringing at the strain as Tony retched again. Bucky came back with a glass of water.

“Sorry,” he slurred when Bucky sat down next to him. He flushed the toilet.

“It happens, doll. Nothing we can’t clean up.”

“I threw up on you.” 

Bucky just shrugged. “Stevie did that to me loads when we were kids. Don’t sweat it.” Steve glared at him. “Feel any better getting it up?”

“No.”

“Drink some water.” Bucky tried to give him the glass but he pushed it away.

“Gonna throw up again.”

“Yeah, but at least it won’t burn as much if your dilute your stomach acid a bit.”

“Don’t want it.”

“Come on, Tony. Bucky’s right.”

“Later?” Even though his eyes were a little unfocused he still managed to melt the other two with his puppy eyes.

“Fine.” Bucky put the glass on the counter. Seconds later Tony was retching up bile. There was nothing in his stomach to bring up. Tears stung his eyes and when he caught his breath he burst into tears.

He leaned sideways into Steve’s shoulder and sobbed. “Shh, baby. It’s gonna be okay.” He massaged the nape of Tony’s neck with his fingers. “Can you take a deep breath for me? I know you’re upset, but crying is gonna make your feel worse.”

Tony knew he was right but he was in so much pain he could hardly control his emotions. Still, he let Steve and Bucky guide him through some breathing exercises. 

“Good job, doll. You’re doing so well.” Bucky praised. “How’s your stomach feeling?” In lieu of a response, Tony scrambled forward and retched emptily. His stomach wouldn’t settle as the migraine waged war in his head. “Okay, you’re okay,” Bucky repeated as he continued to heave.

“M-my head.” Tony stuttered out as he spit into the toilet. “S’mthing’s wrong.”

“I know, baby. You’ve got a migraine.” Steve reminded him. “We’ll take care of you.”

Tony couldn’t express it, but this wasn’t like a normal migraine. He felt like he was underwater and his limbs were tingling like he’d been electrified. He could feel his heart racing in his chest and his thoughts moving too fast to keep track of them. “N-n-not n’mal.” He stuttered out. Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he pitched backward. He collapsed against Steve’s chest and suddenly started seizing. 

Steve gasped but quickly laid Tony on the ground, keeping his head from hitting the floor. “FRIDAY, get Bruce. Now.” Steve ordered.

Already done, Captain.

The tears Bucky had been fighting back began to flow as he helplessly watched Tony seize. Even amidst the chaos, Steve noticed Bucky’s distress and extended his free hand for Bucky to squeeze. “It’s okay, Buck. He’ll be okay.” Steve tried to hide it, but he was terrified and silently prayed that his assurances to Bucky were the truth. Tony stopped seizing in less than a minute, but it was the longest minute in either of their lives.

Bruce came rushing in with two other doctors dragging a stretcher hot on his tail. “How long was he seizing for?” He crouched down next to Tony to check his pulse. It was thready. The doctors began taking various vitals.

47 seconds, Dr. Banner. FRIDAY answered.

Bruce pulled out a pen light and shined it into Tony’s eyes. “Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” Steve all but yelled.

Bruce ignored him and turned to the other two doctors. “Pupils are blown. I’ll get him downstairs, I need a CT stat.” The doctors nodded and raced out of the room.

“Bruce, what’s wrong?” Steve demanded.

“Get him on the stretcher.” Shaking, Bucky scooped him up and did as he was told.

“Bruce?” Steve tried again. Now he was crying too. 

“I don’t know yet, Steve, but we’ll figure it out.” Bruce was already pushing the stretcher down the hall where FRIDAY had an elevator waiting for them. He stepped in. “Stay here. Let us do what we need to do. I’ll update you when I can.” The elevator doors closed leaving Steve and Bucky to stare at the sliver metal. Steve choked on a sob and his knees went weak. He dropped to the floor, Bucky just barely catching him. He lowered the two of them down and together they sobbed. They didn’t know how long they were there, paralyzed by their fear, but then the door slid open again, and out stepped Natasha.

She crouched in front of them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Steve? Bucky? Can you hear me?” Her voice was soft and soothing. Bucky nodded, but Steve just stared off into space. “Let’s get you off the floor.” She helped Bucky up first and then together they hoisted up Steve, holding most of his weight. His legs felt like jelly; completely uncooperative. Natasha managed to get them both into bed.

“Bruce, sent me up to update you two, but I need to know that you’re both listening closely.” She sighed. “It’s bad, but they’re handling it and Tony’s gonna need you two to be there for him, okay?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nat, I’m so scared.” She pulled him into a hug. “I know, James.”

“What happened?” Steve grit out. He grabbed Bucky’s hand and squeezed it. “We need to know.”

Natasha took a deep breath. If there’s one thing she’d learned over the years about delivering bad news, it was best to be blunt. “Tony has a parasite in his brain.” Bucky’s jaw clenched and he bit his lip so hard it bled, but what she more focused on was Steve. She watched all the color drain from his face before he leaned over and threw up on the floor. She rubbed his back until he was finished.

“Sorry,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll clean it up.” She assured him. She grabbed Bucky a tissue and he spit bloody saliva into it. “He’s in surgery now. Cho was called in.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Bucky managed. He had become laser-focused.

“He has the best doctors in the world working on him.” All of them knew what that meant. That answer meant that there was a chance that, no, he wouldn’t be okay. Steve couldn’t catch his breath, he felt like the world was collapsing in on him.

“Stevie.” Bucky squeezed his shoulder. “Stevie, you gotta breathe.”

“C-can’t.”

“Steve, please.” Bucky was practically begging. “Tony needs us right now. I need you right now.” He kissed the top of Steve’s head as Steve leaned in to cry into his chest. 

Natasha stood to leave. “I’ll update you when I know more.” She headed towards the door.

“Natasha,” Steve called tearfully. “Stay?” He asked so earnestly it hurt. She smiled at the two of them sadly and sat back on the bed. 

“How about a movie?” She suggested. “Something to distract you.” They both nodded and tried to get comfortable on the bed despite their skin crawling with fear. Nothing much they could do now but wait.