Everything was set up and ready to go.
Just a test run of the presentation, nothing major. Quentin would demo the hologram, using a scene from Tony's childhood to display the technology publicly for the first time, and then explain the technology alongside his boss, and friend, further in detail. They'd answer questions, then Tony would probably grant all of the students' loans in the audience to back the project. Overall, not too taxing.
Except, well, Quentin had never been one for the limelight. He always watched Tony in awe when he was on stage; he knew how to control a crowd, capture even the most difficult of attentions and hook them onto anything he was talking about, whether that be neurons firing in the brain or the last time he ate a BLT. Whenever Tony was on stage, people were interested in what he had to say; perhaps that was due to his status in the world, Iron Man was a lot more interesting to watch present a project than an unknown engineer without the same energy that Tony Stark gave off during his presentations. But most of the time, it was Tony presenting his projects, and rightly so; he did own the company, after all. But this time, he'd personally asked Beck to join him on stage so that he'd be recognised for his talent in the holographic department. Originally, Beck had been thrilled; but now, there was bile creeping up his throat and a distress in his stomach that made him quietly wonder if this was all a bad idea. It was just a test run, but there were still several people Beck didn't personally know that were viewing Becks performance. It made his stomach knot from anxiety.
Tony was already out there, and he was just minutes away from calling Beck out with him. Beck's hands were pale and clammy, the flash cards shaking in his hand as he swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. Somewhere in the back of his mind screamed I can't do this and there was a hand on his back, someone peering closely at him and asking from faraway if he was alright. The question was lost in the pounding in his ears, and all Beck could do was sake his head and close his eyes. It was then he noted his rapidly increasing heart rate and breathing pattern, and the tech crew member politely asked if he needed to sit down. But Beck couldn't seem to hear him and just took several shaky, uneven breaths, hoping the sense of dread and panic would leave his system with the exhale, but to no such luck. It was then that his stomach lurched and Beck pulled away from the confused man, ripping out his earpiece and heading as fast as his legs would take him to the bathroom backstage. The second the door was open Beck headed for the sink and grabbed the sides as the contents of his stomach were brought back up in a sickening wave of stress. There was a cold sweat forming on his forehead, adding to the uncomfortable sensation in his body as the anxiety became too much to bear.
Beck couldn't pull himself away from the sink for what seemed like hours, his stomach lurching violently every time he attempted to stand up straight and fix his bedraggled demeanor. Instead he remained bent over, silently praying no one would think to come in and catch him in such a vulnerable, humiliating state. There was a sour, acidic taste in his mouth that he was desperate to get rid of, but before he could manage to straighten himself up the door was opening and the anxiety in Beck's abdomen swelled again.
"Oh, Q. I didn't realise you were so worked up about this."
To Beck's mortification, Tony approached him by the sinks and rested a steady hand on his back in an awkwardly-comforting way. Beck hadn't had time to clean himself and the sink up, and felt embarrassment creep up onto his cheeks. "'M sorry." Was the only response he could think to force out, throat raw from vomiting. His body felt weak and tired, which was pathetic because it was only two p.m. and Beck hadn't even done any work today, just prep for the presentation.
"I don't want to hear any apologies. But you should've said you weren't feeling so hot about this - you didn't have to speak with me -"
"It's so stupid! You give me the opportunity of a lifetime, and I get to talk on stage with the Tony Stark about my invention that I'm so, so damn proud of- but my body won't let me do it. It's like every time I think of going out there and standing in front of so many people I just get this wave of sickness that I just can't shake. There's nothing I want more than to properly present my life's work- but how can I, if I can't go out there?"
Beck hadn't realised he was crying until he felt a tissue pressing against his cheek. Slowly he raised his hand to hold Tony's, soothed by the man's presence while simultaneously dejected.
"You'll go out there when you're ready, Q. I don't want to force you into doing something you're not mentally prepared for, because it'll hurt you ten times worse than if you waited it out. I can still present for you if you'd like, or we could push the dates back until you're comfortable with being on stage. I know it can be hard… And mental health is just as important as physical health. I don't want to compromise my favourite engineer."
Beck let out a soft chuckle at that, blinking his eyes a few times to clear away the tears. "God, I don't deserve you, T… You're too good for this world."
"You're right, Beck. You deserve more." Tony chucked the tissue into the bin by the mirrors, before resting his hand in Beck's soft, wavy hair for a moment. "Although, I gotta say that-" He pointed into the sink. "Stinks. Like bad. Come on-" Tony gently urged Beck away from the sink and to the one next to it, thankful his anxiety had calmed down and allowed him to straighten up and the colour to return to his pale cheeks. "I'll clean this up. You wash your face."
"Yes, sir." Beck replied meekly, turning on the faucet. Tony simply rose his eyebrows and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.
"Don't push yourself to do things you aren’t ready for, okay? I'm with you every step of the way. I just don't want you to lose your legs."
Beck chuckled at the choice of words and nodded in return, splashing some warm water on his face. It felt pleasant on his skin, which was now back to it's usual ivory and the tremours in his body had stopped with Tony's presence. "Thank you, Tony." Beck said softly, placing his hand atop Tony's once he'd dried it off. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and Tony laced their fingers together effortlessly.
"It's the least I can do. Go home, get some rest. I'm sure you feel like crap after that shitshow."
Beck laughed again, releasing Tony's hand and giving the man a small nudge with his elbow. "Hey. I can't help it that I'm scared of standing beside the great Tony Stark on stage. I heard that guy's pretty famous."
Tony smirked in response. "I'm sure they're not going to be looking at him when there's someone younger and prettier on stage that created the technology in the first place."
With that, Beck's cheeks flushed pink and he turned away. "Whatever…" He replied quietly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He left the bathroom feeling a lot lighter than before, a dusting of pink on his cheeks and a faint grin on his lips.