XXXV.

True to form for most of his hardcore parties Tony didn't remember much of what happened. All he could recall was begging Bruce to show off his knife throwing skills. Who said something about 'did he really want to show that he was skilled with knives in front of a spy?'

Tony might have said something crass, probably along the lines of 'it was one of his dying birthday wishes' and Bruce crumbled like a castle made of sand.

Was there actually some sort of contest between the professional knife thrower Tony hired? He hired a lot of professional entertainers, all types under the sun. Now the real question, was it apart of his drunken dream or were there really a hawk, a hog and a tiger playing instruments?

There was glitter, feathers and other random things scattered all around his home, reminding him sharply of his time in college and that one music video but mostly college. Good times.

Getting a sudden sinking feeling he followed his intuition to the pool where low and behold one of his cars was submerged. He had a moment of horror. It passed. Now, did he do that or did someone else? Hell, was it Bruce?

Okay so it wasn't Bruce but what he wouldn't give to remember. Sure he was going to look it over on his security cameras but it wasn't the same. He felt remarkably well for someone who had a blackout drunk party. Granted he did feel horrible but those were more his sickness symptoms. They seemed to have heightened two-fold however. A belch made its way up. Blech, Tony should really brush his teeth.

He could feel Bruce's now named relaxed state. He was sleeping. Tony knew better than to bother him.

Tony sat delicately sipping some chlorophyll variant while JARVIS showed him some of the night's exploits.

By the time Bruce woke up Tony was finished, some of it was embarrassing. To which he won't name what happened but the highlights were him and Rhodey salsa dancing fairly well for drunk off their asses. Bruce beating the pro knife tosser to the amazement of everyone. Tony will likely come to regret that. It was Tony and Rhodey joy riding that caused the submerged fiasco. He could tell when they hit the water was when Tony truly checked out and Bruce took over. Probably saving his life.

Tony cleared his throat.

So... I had fun apparently? Thanks for fishing me out of the pool. I'm not too great with water now.

I noticed.

Bruce was grumbly, so this was what he sounded like when he first woke up? His presence drifted closer and slumped down, muted.

Aw is the Broodykins tired?

Tony mock cooed,

By all means, call me that again. See what happens.

Bruce voice was low and crept all throughout their shared head-space.

Why must you always rain on my parade? I just want to nickname you!

Be quiet, I'm still dealing with your hangover.

But I don't feel any... Wait are you saying you can take my pain for your own?

Bruce grunts,

Of course, where did you think it went? Into the nether?

Tony was scandalized.

Bruce! You can't take my pain, it's mine. Please tell me you haven't been doing that this whole time.

Tony imagined Bruce was propping his head up with his hand, elbow resting on his metaphorical knee.

Believe me when I say any pain you receive is but a blip on my radar. Pain was my constant companion, you have more important things to deal with then your symptoms.

That's, no. No, you can't be in pain because of me.

Tony didn't like that, not at all. What's worse he could tell the exact moment Bruce shouldered his illness induced discomforts, just before the conference. Bruce didn't sleep, which meant he felt it nonstop this whole time. Horror sank it's claws in.

Stop, stop holding back my problems. I can deal with it, you don't need to do that. It's unnecessary.

Bruce was unimpressed with his words.

Stark. We share a body, we share a mind. You are dealing with the weight of something that is slowly killing you. If I can hold back your symptoms so you aren't bedridden that you may continue working on a cure, I shall.

But...

I am stuck in a position where I can't aid you physically, if I can relive your burdens I will. I've dealt with torture, I've undergone pain resistance training, and I've constantly fought with handicaps. This is to me what others might compare to a stubbed toe.

Almost not comprehending what was being told to him Tony zoned Bruce out in denial and babbled,

I don't, no I can't. Give it back, please.

Suddenly Tony felt a head rush of the most unholy combination of sickness and vice-like alcohol-induced discomfort. Nausea on different levels and feel making his stomach seem like it was on the most vicious of roller coasters. Tony rushed to the bathroom to heave. Eyesight going fuzzy momentarily, he had trouble breathing and just as suddenly it was gone. Tony lay panting from the whiplash of emotions and sensations.

"Holy shit."

Dryly Bruce spoke leaning close,

I've fought gods, monsters, and men. I've dealt with ideals, ideas and other life forms. I've fought against time, emotions and while I may not have won every battle I have reached the other side different each time. Listen to me when I say this is nothing to me. Just use your clarity to focus on staying alive, hm?

You've lied to me. You aren't Bruce.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, Tony was sure.

Your real name is Mr. Sainty Saint, isn't it? You and your high horse. Fine, you can have my pain. In the meantime, I'll make sure we see our next birthdays.

Bruce felt satisfied at that.

How old was Bruce anyway? He knew the man had gray hair and deep frown lines but that was just a mind projection. And should they count the time spent with Tony or just how old Bruce's body came to be? He probably shouldn't ask.

You're a hard person to make it up to though. You always make me feel like I'm not doing enough, how can I possibly make it up to you? Is there anything you want Bruce?

Tony already knew Bruce would deny it but he still had to ask.

I'm dead, Stark. There's nothing I need.

Stubborn old man. Looks like Tony will have to think of something on his own. Something trickled to the forefront of his conscious.

Wait, you fought Gods?