That was it, he was going to die. The great Tony Stark was going to die flying commercial, half lying on the filthy, disgusting floor of a toilet. He'd come close a few hundred times, whether in his lab testing new prototypes for his armor, or on the battlefield fighting invaders of all kinds, but then again, nothing ever seemed so bad before.
As he leaned back against the toilet bowl to expel the contents of his three-hour-old empty stomach for at least the tenth time, the engineer wondered why he'd agreed to this. Why?!
He and the whole team had decided to take a few days off after their last battle, which had left them completely exhausted. During one of their famous "Pancake Sundays", Tony had suggested a few days in Hawaii. Of course, everyone agreed that for once their friend had a good idea. Unfortunately, Capsicle had come up with another SUPER idea. He'd insisted that everyone fly on an airliner, not a private jet, to supposedly "be like everybody else for once".
Damn, how Tony cursed him now! When he felt better, he would 1) take his revenge and 2) swear in front of the whole country that he'd NEVER fly commercial ever again.
The engineer felt so bad right now; he just wanted to die in peace. His stomach seemed to find it amusing to do some looping, and his head hurt from vomiting. Cold sweat ran down his neck and forehead, and he wouldn't have been surprised if he had a fever.
Tony felt weak, almost faint; he didn't even know if he would be able to get back on his feet. At this point, he didn't care if he looked pathetic in front of the others. He ended up lying half on the bowls, groaning as another wave of nausea washed over him. It had been 5 minutes since the last round. He'd only had a 5 minute break?
But the man didn't have time to complain to himself and curse Steve for the 20th time today: he heard footsteps approaching. He managed to lift his head, now that his stomach had settled a bit, and saw Clint crouching next to him.
-Hey Stark, I know it's not the best form, but we're gonna land and you need to get back to your seat," he explained gently. He really felt sorry for him.
Tony thought he had never heard the Archer speak with that voice. There was no mockery, no irony, no sarcasm in it. It just sounded... normal. Almost worried.
But the engineer wasn’t going to be softened by that. He didn't want to leave.
-No," he replied.
Clint sighed but said nothing. He knew very well that Tony was a stubborn man and that if he decided not to move, he wouldn't move. He would have to do it the hard way.
So, the archer got up and returned to the others. Steve was asleep, while Thor and Bruce seemed to be in deep discussion. The scientist was trying to explain to the god how it was possible for airplanes to fly. Natacha, meanwhile, was quietly doing a crossword puzzle.
-Hey, Nat?" Clint asked as he sat down next to his best friend.
-You want me to take care of it, right?" she asked without looking up from her notebook.
The archer didn't need to answer because she was already on her feet.
The spy started walking down the aisle of the plane and soon spotted the sick man. Tony was practically lying on the floor, his legs sticking out a good three feet from the toilet, forcing the stewardesses to step over him to get to their seats. But Natacha had no pity for Tony: they had to land, and she wasn't going to leave him like that during the landing. So, she approached him, folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot impatiently,
-Stark, I know you're not feeling well, but you really need to get back to your seat, okay? I promise we'll take care of you in a few minutes, but you need to move now," she explained calmly.
Tony just nodded categorically no. He wasn't going to move. His stomach seemed to have finally settled, and no one was going to spoil this victory.
Natacha sighed tiredly, then stepped forward.
-Tony, you're going to listen to me very carefully. You're gonna get up and get back to your seat right now, or I swear I'll do it for you. Do I make myself clear?
But Tony didn't falter despite Natacha's threatening tone. He just turned his back and crossed his arms over his chest like a sulking child.
The spy was losing patience. In barely two seconds, she jumped up, grabbed Tony's ankle, and began dragging him down the aisle by his leg like a sack of potatoes, a neutral expression on her face.
The engineer, who had let out a cry of surprise, tried to wriggle out of her grip, but only to get hit in the face by the foot of a passenger who was slightly sticking out of the aisle.
When they finally reached their row, Natacha finally let go and stared at him intensely with her piercing, terribly frightening gaze until he was seated, seatbelt buckled.
Tony grunted, then crossed his arms and pouted. He was sick and given this treatment? really?!
It was at this point that Steve, who had been sleeping peacefully throughout the entire flight, decided to wake up. As soon as he noticed Tony's greenish face and the bruise that was beginning to form on his cheek from the altercation with the foot, he exclaimed:
-You look terrible, Tony. You sure you alright?
He received only a glare in return.
And if, on landing, Tony, after another wave of nausea, leaned slightly to the right and stained Steve's new pants with a devilish grin on his face, no one needs to know.