Cystic Fibrosis
Like every morning, Steve woke up to intense coughing. Like loud, down-to-the-lungs coughing. And like every morning, he pulled his husband closer to himself, elevating Tony’s head onto his chest. He ran his fingers through the genius’ black locks waiting for the coughing to die down.
When it didn’t, Steve wrestled himself from sleep and sat up, pulling Tony with him. He rubbed the genius’ back as the man coughed out the mucus in his lungs. When Tony stopped suddenly, Steve grabbed a cup and held it up to Tony's mouth and helped the man spit up all the phlegm that was collected through the coughing.
Tony finally slumped against Steve, and the supersoldier cradled him in his arms. “I don’t feel good, Stevie,” Tony whispered, his voice incredibly raspy.
Steve felt Tony’s forehead. “You are a bit warm, how about you rest some more?”
On cue, Bruce knocked and walked in with Tony’s pills and water. “Good morning.”
“Bruce, Tony has a bit of a fever,” Steve informed him.
Bruce’s eyes widened and he immediately entered doctor-mode. He felt Tony’s forehead and took his vitals. “It doesn’t seem too bad, but i’ll check on you later to see if you’re still feeling poorly.” Tony nodded and Bruce left.
Steve could see Tony’s eyes falling, so he shifted them so that Tony was on his lap and he was pressed against the headboard, propped up by pillows. He reclined his husband so that he was laying against his chest, though still sitting up in case he had to cough. Steve reached out and flicked the nebulizer on before holding it to Tony’s mouth. “Rest, baby, i’m right here,” Steve said softly.
It only took seconds for Tony to fall back to sleep, which was only testament to how sickly he felt. Steve turned off the nebulizer when it was finished and turned on the television with the volume low.
About two hours later, Tony’s eyes blinked open. “There’s sleeping beauty. How do you feel?” Steve smiled.
“Better,” Tony croaked.
Steve moved a piece of hair from Tony’s face. “That’s good, baby. You hungry?”
Tony nodded, yawning.
“Okay, I think Bruce was making some soup today, lets go get some before Clint eats it all,” Steve smirked. Tony’s lips turned up into a ghost of a smile, but the dark bags under his eyes contradicted the expression.
Steve and Tony got ready for the day in the bathroom. Both of them shared a nice long hot shower, the steam helping open Tony’s chest up. But by the time they were putting on their clothes, Steve could tell Tony was drained.
He dragged a tired Tony to the common area, where everyone was hanging around. As soon as Bruce saw them making their way over he poured some soup into bowls for Tony and Steve. “How are you feeling, Tones?” Bruce asked.
Tony really hated that question. He shrugged.
Steve helped him sit on the bar stool at the kitchen island. Tony immediately put his head down on the cool marble.
Steve rubbed his husband’s back. “You have to eat, baby,” he said softly.
Tony groaned, picking up his head and rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. Even though his stomach wanted food earlier, now that he was confronted with it, he was getting nauseous from the smell. Even so, Tony opened his mouth as Steve held up a spoonful of soup to his lips.
Tony swallowed it and tried not to grimace. “See, wasn’t so bad?” Steve smiled. His phone rang and he frowned at the caller ID that read ‘Fury’. “I gotta take this, you finish that soup babe,” Steve called, walking out.
Tony groaned, forcing himself to consume another three spoonfuls. He listened to the others converse in the living room before suddenly he felt his stomach gurgle. It was only seconds before the soup ended up all over his shirt.
Bruce ran over when he heard the distinct signs of retching. By the time he reached Tony, the man’s lap was drenched in soup and it was pouring down the front of his shirt. The man’s stomach kept seizing, forcing out more of the food he had consumed.
Clint grabbed paper towels while Natasha forced a throw up bag under Tony’s chin.
Bruce rubbed Tony’s back and held him from face-planting onto the kitchen island. “Let it all out, Tones, don’t fight it,” Bruce said softly. Tony gagged for several minutes, despite all of the soup having been ejected.
Tears forced themselves out of the genius’ eyes as the vomiting triggered coughing. His body couldn’t decide what it wanted to do so for several minutes he alternated coughing and gagging.
When Tony’s face was going red from the lack of oxygen, Bruce and Clint lowered Tony from the stool and guided him to the couch. The sickly man was shaking and coughing up a storm.
Steve came rushing back into the room at the sounds. He took in the scene quickly and took out Tony’s inhaler from his pocket. He kneeled in front of his husband and pressed the device to his lips. Tony, with an air of familiarity, took in a breath just as Steve dispensed the medicine. Another two puffs and Tony’s coughing had slowed. Steve looked over at the anxiety-ridden team. “What happened?”
“He threw up the soup which triggered a coughing episode,” Bruce explained, running anxious fingers through his hair.
Steve sighed and looked back at Tony, who was regaining his strength with his eyes closed. He ran gentle fingers up the man’s arm. “How do you feel, baby?” He asked softly.
“M’ okay,” Tony sighed, entwining their fingers.
Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to Tony’s slightly warm forehead. He then gestured to Bruce, who nodded and left.
Bruce returned a minute later with an IV stand, tube, and a clear bag filled with brown liquid. Tony groaned dramatically upon noticing it. “Please?” he whined.
Steve gave him a look and Tony sighed in acceptance. The genius pulled up his shirt slightly to expose the stoma which was implanted in his stomach. Bruce set up the stand and connected Tony’s G-tube, starting up the flow of liquid food. Tony shivered, almost feeling the food entering his body.
Steve lifted Tony’s chin from where the man was staring at the tube with disdain. “How about you get some rest so we can go to the park later?” Steve said.
Tony sighed, but nodded. Steve and Bruce helped him get more comfortable on the couch while Natasha, who had retrieved a new shirt for Tony, helped him replace the vomit-stained one. It was not long before Tony was sleeping peacefully.
Hours later, Tony still felt bad, so they did not end up going to the park. The billionaire insisted they go, but Steve refused. Tony’s immune system was shot because of his illness and being exposed to outside germs when he already wasn’t feeling too great could be disastrous. He had already been to the hospital with pneumonia twice this month. Instead, they decided to lay in bed and rewatch the Harry Potter series.
They got halfway through the third movie before Steve had to pause it to check on Tony. He was used to ignoring Tony’s coughing because it happened so often, but he sounded extra congested today. It was still another two hours or so before vest therapy, so Steve called Bruce in for help.
By the time Bruce got to their room, Steve was holding Tony against his chest while the man racked with non stop coughing. “Get it out baby, good job,” Steve soothed. Tony hated coughing very much- he said it made it feel like the arc reactor was going to pop out. Tears were shining in Tony’s eyes as his lungs seized. Steve couldn’t do much besides hold a cup under his chin as he coughed up mucus.
“I can hear the congestion from here,” Bruce said as he walked in the room. “Lets start on your side today, Tones.”
Tony groaned as Steve moved him to the middle of the bed and onto his side. Completely drained, he couldn’t do anything but lay limply as Bruce beat on the side of his chest to loosen the mucus. Steve laid next to him so they were eye-to-eye and held the mucus cup under his chin.
Bruce pounded at different spots on Tony’s back and side while he coughed. He was trying to be gentle, as not to hurt the genius, but also hard enough that the pounding shook the mucus from the walls of Tony’s lungs. “Can you roll him over, Steve?” Bruce asked.
Steve nodded and helped Tony roll onto his back. Bruce started pounding on the man’s chest. Tony whimpered as Bruce pounded on the sensitive area near the reactor- unfortunately, that’s where most of the mucus buildup was.
“I’m sorry, Tones,” Bruce said guiltily.
“S’okay,” Tony whispered, bracing himself.
Steve hauled Tony up as he started choking on mucus. The genius coughed violently, spitting into the cup. After a few minutes though, he was able to breathe better. “Thanks Brucie,” Tony said.
Bruce nodded. He handed Tony several pills before he left. About an hour later, Steve loosened himself from his husband’s hold and started plugging in Tony’s percussion vest. Tony, distracted by the movie, cooperated while Steve put the jacket on him and tightened the straps. The supersoldier turned the machine on, before handing Tony his nebulizer and snuggling in next to his husband again.
The vibration of the vest as it shook against Tony, shaking the mucus from his body, was soothing to Steve; as was the cool mist from the nebulizer. Steve turned up the volume over the machines and gave Tony a loving kiss, holding the man as close as the vest would allow.