Sick Days
Tony had gotten unfortunately accustomed to the cold itchy feeling of waking up in a used diaper. But this time, Tony was more cold than usual, to the point where he could feel his whole body shivering in protest. He pried his eyes open, and despite the fact that his vision was blurry from tears and a pounding headache, he was able to perceive that he was in the medibay with Bruce. He whimpered as Bruce pressed a stethoscope against his chest, bringing him further into consciousness. The longer the scientist held the metal instrument against his chest, the colder he felt, and after a few seconds he couldn't help the fat tears that began rolling down his cheeks.
"Cold Bwuce!" Bruce lifted the stethoscope away and cooed sympathetically,
"I know Tones, sorry. I was just giving you a checkup, and I think you're a little bit sick. Does your tummy hurt?" Tony thought for a moment, and he hadn't noticed it before, but now that Bruce had mentioned it, his stomach hurt like crazy.
"Mhm," he whimpered pitifully, "cold!" Bruce propped him up a little,
"Just a moment, and we'll get you dressed and wrapped up in a warm nice blanket okay?" Tony started feeling very frustrated. Was Bruce really gonna' make him say it out loud?
"No Bwuce! Cold! We'!" Bruce's face clicked in understanding. He propped Tony up entirely, and much to his humiliation, pulled on the back of Tony's diaper and peeked in,
"Sorry babe. Guess it's time for a change, but all your supplies are up on the communal floor." Bruce pulled the onesie over Tony's head, not bothering to button it up, and carried him over to the elevator. "I asked Jarvis to scan you," Bruce wasn't sure if Tony was mentally old enough to understand, but figured if he was, he'd want to know, "nothing's wrong with the arc reactor. My best guess is that it's just a little bug. Your fever's a 36 though, so I'm surprised you're feeling cold. I'm assuming that will fluctuate." The more Tony thought about it, the less cold he felt. He had nausea so strong it was making him numb and shivery, but otherwise he was very hot. The feeling brought him a very specific memory of being young, and sticking his hands in hot water after playing in the snow. The heat of the water was so stunning to the body that it felt frigid.
"Ho'" He whined as Bruce caught a tear on that was crawling down his cheek, and let out a good natured chuckle,
"I know baby. Let's get you changed okay?" On the communal floor, Bruce carried him right past the other Avengers in the living room, and into a bathroom. He leaned forward to place Tony onto the mat, and carefully pried Tony's fingers off of where they were desperately clinging to his shirt. Bruce hummed as he stripped the toddler, and Tony expected him to put him in a fresh diaper immediately, but instead Bruce stood and began wetting a cloth at the sink. After a few moments of Tony quietly sobbing from his place on the ground, Bruce knelt down beside him again, and began wiping off his face with the lukewarm cloth. Tony's tears slowed down, and pretty soon he stopped, with an appreciative sigh. Once the toddler had been completely wiped down with the cloth, Bruce fastened a diaper around his hips, and enveloped him in a towel before carrying him out of the room, and over to Clint. Despite his poor mood, Tony looked happy enough to see the archer, and began reaching out for him,
"Wan' Cwin' pwease." Bruce handed over the child, not looking offended in the least that he'd been dumped by the toddler he'd just been taking very good care of,
"Oh I see how it is." He chuckled as he watched Tony cling to the other man, "Playing favourites because he took you to the park." The toddler just blinked sleepily and began sucking his thumb, only to be stopped by Clint, who slipped a pacifier in its place.
"Cwin', head hur's weal bad." He muttered around the pacifier. Clint pressed a kiss onto Tony's forehead. Like that will help at all, Tony thought.
"I know baby. Let's get you down to my room so you can get changed into something nice and comfy, and maybe go to sleep." Tony shook his head, but stopped when it made him even more nauseous. With a final ruffle on the head from Bruce, and a gentle kiss on his tummy from Natasha (who'd recently learned Tony was a sucker for tummy kisses), Tony went up to Clint's floor, slowly falling asleep in the man's arms on the way.
Clint wasn't sure if Tony was going to like the outfit he'd chosen for him, but he figured that he wouldn't complain once he'd gotten it on him since it was definitely the comfiest outfit he had. It was a baby blue, cotton footie jumpsuit. The only problem with it was that it was designed for someone a little younger than Tony, with built on mittens and snaps around the crotch (they hadn't been sure of his exact age at first, so hey'd had JARVIS order him a variety of clothes), though Clint thought it would fit just fine, because Tony was a little small for his age anyways. Still, Clint expected Tony to cry, or make some type of fuss. What he didn't expect was for Tony to have no reaction at all, but simply lie there with his eyes glossed over, and moan every once in a while as he was changed. Needless to say, the archer took it as a bad sign. In fact, Tony didn't even seem to notice till a few moments later when he started getting fussy in Clint's arms, and tried to pull out his pacifier, only to find that his hands were wrapped in fabric. It was a good thing that Clint had lots of experience with fussy babies, cause naturally, this realization only made Tony more upset.
"Shh shh. Okay baby, it's okay." He sat down on the bed, and pulled out Tony's pacifier, "I'm sorry about the sleeves. I didn't think they'd bother you because you're going to sleep anyways."
"Nuhuh." Tony was whimpered, and squirmed a little, like he couldn't get comfortable, "No' gon' sweep. Don' feew goo'!" Tony wasn't lying. The whole world was swirling around him in a feverish frenzy that made him think he probably wouldn't be able to recall the evening later on, and he could feel his skull vibrating from the pounding of his headache. Clint had another idea that he was sure Tony wasn't going to like, but he was also sure would help soothe the headache at least a little. Tony watched from where he was lying on the bed as the man left the bedroom. He could hear him humming and opening what sounded like packaging in the other room. He remembered at some point hearing that Clint had brought some of the baby supplies they'd bought down to his floor, but he was much too dizzy to really be concerned about what Clint was unpackaging in the other room. Tony heard Clint returning before he saw him. He was singing softly as he came into the room,
"A beautiful day for a neighbour. Could you be mine? Would you be mine?" Tony rolled onto his side to see what the archer was carrying, and he wasn't happy. In one hand he was carrying baby Advil, and in the other a bottle. Neither were things Tony wanted to drink, but Clint just smiled at him, and continued to sing softly as he dipped a syringe into the Advil and scooped up Tony onto his lap. Tony tried to escape, but Clint's hold was limiting his movement, and his mitted hands were of no use to him when he tried to snatch away the syringe of medicine. The archer tried to coax the syringe into Tony's mouth, causing the baby to break out into wails of misery.
"No no no Cwint!"
Tony wasn't sure where Clint got the wet cloth (he'd been so focused on the other things he'd been carrying, he didn't notice it), but he wasn't complaining about the cool stroking of he fabric over his face, wiping his tears away and pressing against his forehead in a way that instantly reduced the headache. As the pain subsided a little, Tony could feel himself giving into the feeling of exhaustion more and more, and Clint obviously decided to take advantage of Tony's bout of fatigue, because the sneaky bastard slipped the syringe into Tony's mouth and pressed down before he could even notice, leaving Tony with no choice but to swallow the nasty tasting stuff. He began to whimper again as Clint put the bottle towards his face, but the man hummed, and rocked him gently as he slipped the bottle into his mouth,
"It's just water Tony. Your sippy cup is downstairs." The toddler figured that as long as it wasn't formula, there wasn't really any harm in drinking from a bottle, though he still grumbled a little around the nipple of the bottle before he began to drink. The cold refreshing relief of the water hit Tony in a wave, and he instantly went lax Clint's arms, causing the man to chuckle quietly to himself. Around halfway through the bottle though, Tony began whimpering again, and pressing his hands against his tummy. Unsure what else he could do, Clint began singing again, "Let's make the most of this beautiful day. Since we're together, might as well say." He was worried at first that Tony would protest to being sung a song from a kid's show, but he really knew very few songs like it with the same power to make his children happy, so he stuck to what he knew to work, and thankfully, Tony was out like a light before he could even finish the line. "Would you be my, could you be my? Won't you be my neighbour?"
Tony woke up a total of six times in the night, and each time Clint comforted him, and wiped of his face with a cool cloth, his fever had crept slightly higher. The seventh time Tony woke, the sun was shining outside the floor to ceiling windows he'd put in Clint's room (One of the few facts Tony knew about the archer was that he liked looking down on things, so he'd made sure to pull all the stops and give Clint the best views), and he felt like he couldn't fall asleep again, so instead he pulled himself up onto his knees, but began whimpering when the nausea kicked in again. Unlike yesterday, he noticed the monitor on Clint's wrist vibrating, waking up Clint. The spy didn't look tired at all, despite the fact that Tony had kept him up all night, but he supposed Clint probably got very little sleep anyways in his line of work. The man left the room wordlessly, and returned a few seconds later with a fresh bottle of water for the toddler. Tony, for his part, ignored the urge to squirm in Clint's arms as he gave Tony the bottle, and afterwards settled Tony on his hip to take him up to the communal floor.
"Feel any better baby? Your fever's still pretty high." Tony didn't feel better, and he was sure Clint already knew that, but he was feeling irritated and he didn't like the way he was being babied because he was sick, so he lied,
"Bettah Cwin'. Fevah gone." He perked up a little in Clint's arms for added affect, before slumping down again when Clint just laughed. He should have known lying to a trained spy wouldn't work. One good thing was that Tony was feeling, if anything, slightly more adult than the toddlerish mindset he'd been stuck in for most of the previous evening. Upon reflection, it had to be the most purely young he'd felt since he'd switched. Almost like he was actually a baby.
"You're cute kid, but you're not gonna be a SHIELD agent when you grow up if you're that bad at lying." Tony huffed, when he grew up? had everyone forgotten that he was an adult.
"Am gwon up!" There was no need for an argument, Clint knew that he was a grown up, but the constant pain in his head was making him fussy, and he wanted to start an argument.
"Sorry Tones, I didn't realize that grown up Tony was with us." He cooed at Tony's pouty face before squeezing the back of his diaper, "Does 'grown up' Tony need a diaper change?" He laughed even more at the insulted look Tony gave him. First Bruce, and now Clint? Why couldn't they just trust him to tell them when he needed a change? Tony huffed, but still leaned against Clint's side, as the nausea hit him once again.
"No. Gon' go sweep now." He curled himself closer against Clint's body, and winced when he heard the archer laugh again. Normally he wouldn't've allowed himself to be so childishly clingy while in his adult mindset, but at least he could blame it on the damn fever if someone commented later.
When the elevator doors opened, Clint shifted him, so that he was cradled against his chest, and carried him into the kitchen, where the other Avengers were preparing their respective plates of breakfast. Bruce practically snatched the child away from Clint, pressing his hand into Tony's forehead, and muttering something about his temperature.
"What was his fever last time you checked Barton?" Bruce looked more worried than Tony would've liked,
"37.5, why?" Natasha reached over from where she was sitting next to Bruce, and pressed her hand against his forehead as well,
"Doesn't seem good doc."
"Well, I'm not a medical doctor," he tiredly reminded his teammate, "but you're right. This doesn't seem good. Has he had any fluids this morning?"
"Wots." Tony grumbled from his place in Bruce's arms, grimacing at the idea of drinking anything more. The contents of the bottle he'd drank earlier were already sloshing around in his stomach, in a way that felt like they were threatening to come back up. "Don' wan' drink anymowe. Wan' sweep." Bruce hummed sympathetically, readjusting Tony so that he was lying in his lap.
"You're going to overheat in that outfit Tony." Bruce's scolding was not so much pointed at the toddler as it was at the archer, who just shrugged,
"Most of his pyjamas are thick fleecy fabric. It was the lightest fabric I could find." Bruce huffed at that, and much to Tony's frustration, began unbuttoning the jumpsuit and tugging it off of Tony's squirming body. Bruce looked unbothered at the fact that he was stripping Tony, an adult man, at a table in front of all his colleagues.
"No Bwuce!" The scientist wasn't ignorant to Tony's embarrassment, in-fact it was practically tangible. But, he knew that he couldn't just let his friend sit there and have a heat stroke from those clothes, and he told him so.
"Your choice Tony; the jumpsuit comes off, or you overheat and the fever gets worse." He decided not to sugar coat it, as it was obvious from Tony's humiliation that he was adult at the moment, but he regretted his harshness almost instantly when Tony began to whimper and fat tears started pouring down his cheeks.
"Nice one идиот." Natasha tsked, and took the crying, half-dressed toddler from Bruce. "It's okay Anton. I've got you." She stood from the table, not quite sure yet where she was going.
"Mama!" Tony wailed, causing Steve to choke on his food, and Bruce's eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline.
"Yeah, that's not new." Clint pitched helpfully from where he was standing at the counter with a big stupid smirk on his face, "Baby Tony seems to think that Natasha is his mom." The comment made Tony wail even more (he obviously hadn't noticed what he'd said previous to it), and it earned Clint a painful kick to the shin from his partner as she left the room with Tony.
"Ignore Clint, he's stupid." Natasha cooed at the sobbing toddler, hoping to calm him down, if not make him smile.
"S'upid!" Tony agreed, hiccuping a little. Tony had one hand clinging to the neck of Natasha's shirt, and the other pressed against his temple. "Ho' mama," He whimpered, "too ho'."
"I know, малыш." She and Tony boarded elevator, which carried them up to Clint's floor before she could even make a request.
"If I might, madame," JARVIS's voice was softer than usual, which was something of a testament to how good he was at caring for Tony, "there is a bottle of baby Advil on master Barton's bedside table that might do young sir some good." Natasha smiled gratefully at the ceiling, thanking the ai as she disembarked the elevator.
"You still adult, Tony?" Tony flushed, detaching himself from the spy's shirt in an effort to seem more mature.
"Yeah, sowwy." She clucked,
"No need to be sorry babe. I was just curious. Can you drink this medicine for me like a big boy?" Her words were patronizing, but there was something about her tone that was more genuine than teasing, like she'd tried to land a joke, but felt sincere in her words. He simply nodded, accepting the syringe of medicine, and wrinkling his nose at the taste. He was settled on Clint's bed now, looking up at Natasha from where she'd laid him on his back.
"Wha's wrong Na'?" She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering how it was possible that toddler Tony seemed so much more perceptive of others than adult Tony. Perhaps they were equally perceptive, and toddler Tony was just more vocal with his observations.
"Nothing baby. You're just..." She paused, "I don't think this is a discussion to have with a toddler." She'd already pulled off his pyjamas, and was now working on the tabs of his diaper. He stared at her with those big eyes, and repeated the question with more patience than she'd ever heard in his tone when he was an adult,
"Na', wha's wrong?" To avoid eye contact, Natasha focused on the new diaper she was wrapping around Tony as she spoke,
"You were so emotionally constipated when you were an adult, you know that?" The statement elicited a grumble from the toddler. Was she really taking shots at him while he was sick, and also a two-year-old? "But, now that you're a toddler and all, I can see your emotions clear as day, and it just hurts me to see how much pain you're in. I wish I could do more, cause little kids shouldn't have to feel that much pain." Tony had a feeling that she wasn't just talking about the fever.
"No' you' faul'," He says, with way too much logic in his voice for a toddler. "Sometime I hur', bu' you cawe, an' you twy, an' tha's mo' then I ha' in las' childhood." He sticks one of his fists in his mouth, and continues to speak around it, "You weally goo' mama." Natasha suppresses a smile as she collects Tony from off of the bed, wearing only his diaper.
"Thanks Tones, you're pretty great too." She kisses him on the forehead, running a hand through his hair as he gets more comfortable pressed against her chest. The spy had to assume that he was slipping into his younger state of mind, because he was babbling to himself, not to mention the fact that he'd just called her 'mama' again, and wasn't making any protests about being practically naked. She made a mental note to tell the others that it wasn't just emotions that made him switch, but also how much energy he had.
She carried the toddler into the washroom, and wiped him down with a wet wash cloth, which was an action he'd begun to recognize, and quite enjoy, and afterwards settled on the bed, with Tony in her arms.
Everything was a little bit blurry, and Tony had to assume it was from all the crying, but his eyelids were also beginning to droop so heavily he could barely even see. After a few minutes of squinting up at what he was almost ninety percent sure was Natasha's face, he gave into the darkness edging into the corners of his vision, and dropped into tumultuous sleep.