Tony Stark's day was going surprisingly well. He'd managed to steal Pepper away from her regularly scheduled lunch at her desk while she read the notes for the next meeting, and had whisked her away to the fanciest Italian restaurant in Manhattan. The food had been amazing, the company thrilling, and the promise of how Pepper was going to repay him for such a great date hung in the air like a song.
Of course, that was all ruined when he walked out of the restaurant into a cloud of gas.
It took his brain a second to understand what had happened, and by the time he realized he shouldn't have inhaled, he was already on his knees, his lungs doing their best to externalize themselves.
He slapped weakly at the Iron Man bracelets around his wrists while looking through the fog for Pepper, who was lying on the ground beside him, gasping weakly.
He reached out for her but she had fallen out of his reach. Tony tried to crawl closer to her but didn't get more than a foot before his body refused to take more cues from his brain.
There were so many things he wanted to tell her—how deeply he loved her, how she had to hang on, how the suit would be here soon—but the second he opened his mouth, he was lost in a coughing fit that was so intense he could feel the bruising beginning around the reactor.
Then a warm hand was on his, and he saw flashes of red and blue in the distance before he passed out.
When Tony came to, he found himself in a glass-walled room that smelled strongly of disinfectant. His guess was a hospital—hopefully a real one and not one belonging to whoever had—
Pepper!
He slurred out her name as he tried to push himself out of bed, but the IV in the back of his hand kept him from gaining any real ground.
"You're awake."
With panic surging through his system, Tony flopped to his left and saw a blob of yellow sitting beside him. While his hands attempted to slap at his wrists where the Iron Man bracelets should have been, Tony blinked hard and the blob sharpened into a hazmat suit, with a very distinctive blond coif beneath it.
His panic died down almost instantly and he let his hands fall back to the bed.
"How are you feeling?" Steve asked as his plastic-enclosed hand reached out to gently push Tony back onto the bed.
"Pepp'r?"
Steve tilted his head to the right and Tony jerked his gaze over to see his girlfriend lying on a hospital bed in an adjacent glass-walled room, sleeping. Another yellow blob was sitting in her room, holding her hand.
"'s that?"
"Happy. I figured he knew her better than I did." Then Steve twisted back to face Tony. "Rhodes is on his way back from a mission, by the way. I'm just filling in 'til he gets here."
It might have been the drugs coursing through Tony's IV but Steve's words stung more than they should have. After all they'd been through over the past few months and all the progress they'd made, Tony thought he might have earned the right to be more than an obligation for their great leader. Apparently that wasn't the case.
With great effort, Tony schooled his face into a neutral expression. "'m fine. 'u can go now."
"Wait, that wasn't what I meant—"
"'u don' have to 'splain—"
"I just didn't want you to think that Happy chose Pepper and you were stuck with me," Steve interjected. "I wanted you to know Rhodey was on his way. I'm happy to stay for however long you want, but I figured you'd want me gone once he got here."
Tony blinked. That made a surprising amount of sense. A lot more sense than Steve suddenly hating his guts. Damn those drugs.
"'u can stay," he stated as he reached shakily for the plastic cup beside his bed. "'f you want."
Thankfully, Steve was already there, grabbing the cup between two gloved hands and holding it out for Tony to drink from. The water was icy cold, felt wonderful against his scratchy throat, and succeeded in fully waking him up.
"What happened to me?" he rasped, after downing the whole cup.
"Someone gassed both you and Pepper on your way out of Del Posto. So far it hasn't had any effect but knock you out. Dr. Baker doesn't see anything unusual in either of your bloodwork, but they're quarantining and monitoring you until they're sure."
"So we'll be fine?"
"Dr. Baker thinks so."
"What was it?"
"Some sort of plague derivative. As far as they can tell, it didn't take."
Tony had to swallow hard a few times before he could ask, "And they're absolutely sure Pepper is fine?"
"She got a much smaller dose than you. She's been awake twice already, and has reported no symptoms." Steve might have smiled, but it was hard to tell around the thick plastic face mask. "It's you we're all worried about."
"Well you don't have to be." As if on some sort of morbid cue, a cough tore its way out of Tony's lungs and he doubled over, gasping for air. He pushed one hand against the reactor to keep it steady, while the other went to his mouth, trying to physically suppress his cough.
Plastic crinkled then a hand was rubbing circles on his back, and Steve was saying something on repeat. When Tony could breathe again, the plastic cup was being held to his mouth. Not trusting his own shaking hands to hold it steady, he just sipped carefully from the straw that had appeared out of nowhere.
"Thanks," he mumbled when his throat was no longer on fire. He looked up and saw actual fear in Steve's eyes before the soldier quickly looked away.
Tony's stomach sank to the floor. "I've got it, don't I?"
"Not yet," Steve said as he put the water back on the rolling table. He was back to his calm, assertive state, all traces of his emotional lapse gone. "But that cough didn't sound good. We need to call Dr. Baker."
He should have been a lot more surprised when Tony didn't protest.
"Did you have the cough when you woke up?" Dr. Patricia Baker asked, peering at her patient over the top Tony's file.
"No."
"Were you feeling under the weather at all?"
"No less than usual."
Dr. Baker fixed him with an unamused look but Tony just shrugged. "Perks of being an Avenger and being partially in charge of a company. Not a whole lot of downtime."
"No matter how this turns out, downtime you will have." Dr. Baker then stuck a thermometer under Tony's tongue, effectively cutting off any retort.
"99.5," she reported a moment later before she recorded the number in Tony's chart.
"That's not unusual. I run warm."
Dr. Baker nodded as she noted more of Tony's vitals. "We'll keep a close eye on you all the same."
Tony's throat tickled with discomfort and he had to take another drink of water before he could ask, "Is there a chance I have Steve's cold?" He'd taken care of himself the best he could while looking after Steve a few weeks ago. It seemed unlikely, but was worth asking, especially considering the strength of the bug that had temporarily stymied the serum.
Thankfully, Dr. Baker seemed to share his original opinion. "Highly unlikely given its extremely late onset," she responded. "I would have expected you to show symptoms before today."
Well that was good. If he were waxing lyrical, Tony might even describe it as small ray of darkness in an otherwise gloomy day. But the severity of their current situation quickly cut him back to reality.
"If it is the plague, what are my chances?" he asked softly.
"As long as it hasn't been modified, there are ways of treating it for a full recovery. Unfortunately, we won't know for sure unless your teammates can find the release mechanism." Dr. Baker dropped Tony's chart back in the holder on the foot of his bed and turned to face her patent. "Besides the cough, you've been a-symptomatic, which is a really good sign."
"And with the cough?"
"It could be anything: a reaction to the propellant, or the start of the garden-variety infection." Dr. Baker stepped forward and rested her hand on Tony's ankle. "Try not to worry. Especially if this is just some backyard concoction, there's a very good chance your system will eliminate it before it becomes harmful."
"But when will you know for sure?"
"24-48 hours. But in case someone put some sort of time-release inhibitor on the molecules, you'll need to stay in quarantine for at least a week."
"A week?!"
Dr. Baker nodded again then turned to leave. "I need to go check in with the lab. I'll be back as soon as I have the results."
"Thank you. Any chance I can get my phone back while we wait?"
Dr. Baker shook her head. "It's being tested for traces of the gas. But I'll have a lab tablet sent in. Ethernet access only."
Tony could barely resist a groan of frustration but managed to smile his thanks while doing it. It was by design, he knew, so he couldn't look up his symptoms. But still, the ethernet was better than nothing. He'd made due with a lot worse.
He heard a shifting sound and looked to his left to see the built-in blinds between the two quarantine rooms disappear. Pepper, beautiful even in such stark surroundings, was still sleeping, while Happy, still in a banana-yellow hazmat suit, had shifted his chair so he had sightlines to both Tony and Pepper.
"How's she doing?" Tony asked, practically yelling to be heard through the thick glass.
"Fine," Happy shouted back. "Her last blood test was—"
There was a loud screech that left Happy grabbing at the earbud in the hazmat suit, then his curse boomed over the speakers in Tony's room.
"Sorry about that," Dr. Baker said. "But the speaker system between your rooms is now activated."
Happy grumbled out a 'thanks' then continued, "—was negative."
"No cough, no fever?"
"No. And you, boss?"
"Nothing so far," Tony replied. Technically, it was a white lie, but his cough hadn't been conclusive. And he hadn't needed to cough since earlier; of course, now that he was thinking about it, his chest burned with the cough he was now actively suppressing. Stupid power of suggestion.
Tony's back began to ache from the prologued lying around, so he shifted his legs toward the side of the bed, in an attempt to take the seat Steve had vacated when Dr. Baker had kicked him out to perform her examination. It took Happy a minute to realize what he was doing, but by the time Tony had pushed himself upright, Happy had stood to his full height and was pointing his gloved finger at Tony.
"I know you are not going to get out of bed, boss. Dr. Baker's orders."
"She told me no such thing."
"Then it's a good thing you have me around to keep you on the straight and narrow. No getting out of bed, at least for the first three days."
"How am I supposed to use the bathroom?"
Happy pointed off to Tony's right, where a bedpan was tucked beneath the railing.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"With your lungs, she's not taking any chances."
Tony supposed that was fair but he hated it all the same. "If you walk me to the bathroom, it'll be like I'm still lying in bed."
"Do you really have to go?"
Tony eyed the bedpan. "Not anymore."
The next few hours were filled with good news. Tony's blood was still clean of plague, which left Dr. Baker cautiously optimistic he hadn't contracted the disease. Pepper's blood tests were also negative, and when she'd woken up, Happy had rolled her over so she was next to the glass wall separating them. Steve, after returning with the unfortunate news that Rhodes was still on assignment and couldn't be reached, had done the same for Tony. There had been a lot of crying and promises for trips to deserted islands with no cell phone signal, but eventually Pepper and Tony calmed down. Their hands were pressed to opposite sides of the glass like part of a bad romance movie, but Tony found he didn't much care.
When Nurse Janine returned a few hours later to take Pepper for another chest CT, Steve held out a deck of cards.
"Wanna play?"
Tony gaped at the old-fashioned game. The last time he'd played cards had been at a poker night he'd held... in early 2008? It had been back when he was still drinking heavily and definitely before Iron Man. That night, he'd even programmed JARVIS to display holographic cards, which left everyone's hands free for other… past times.
"They're playing cards," Steve had the gall to explain.
"I know what they are. I'm just... Can you even hold cards in your gloves?"
Steve smiled. "I'm gonna try. You should probably deal though."
Tony stared at Steve for another moment, then decided the old-fashioned game was far better than sitting in silence, worrying.
"What do you know how to play?" he asked as he took the deck, slid the cards out of the box, and began to shuffle.
"Almost anything."
Tony grinned evilly. "Poker it is. Hap, you in?"
The Forehead of Security shrugged before heading to the airlock in Pepper's room. "Not like I have anything else to do."
They were six hands in when the cards once again fell from Steve's gloved hands. He scowled, then slid the offending card to the end of the table and tried to force it back into formation.
"This is ridiculous," he grumbled but broke out into a wide smile when he was successful.
"I told you poker was a bad idea," Happy, who having similar troubles with his own cards, chimed in.
"Well, we could play 31," Steve offered. "Less cards to hold. My mom said my grandmother used to play it with her side of the family." When it was his turn, Steve tried to lay down one single card but his whole hand splayed out instead.
Unlike the other times, he didn't hurry to pick the cards up, or even hide them from Tony's sight. "You're not contagious anymore, right?" he asked.
"Not according to Dr. Baker," Tony said absently as he picked up Steve's hand and held it out to the supersoldier.
That was when he saw Steve reaching for the back of his suit.
"NO, STEVE!" Tony shouted, but it was too late. Steve had separated the seal, sending the air from his suit hissing into the room.
"Happy, get him out of here. Steve, don't breathe!" Tony shouted, practically shoving Happy off the chair in Steve's direction.
Happy, bless his soul, reacted quickly. In two seconds, he'd wrapped his arms around Steve and was in the process of hauling him out of the room, when Steve slipped his arms free and pulled the helmet of the suit over his head, so it dangled against his chest.
"Look, if you were contagious, you'd be sick by now," Steve said, extricating himself from the rest of Happy's hold. "Dr. Baker is pretty much convinced you're not, so that's good enough for me."
"You can't take that chance," Tony said in disbelief.
Steve shrugged. "I've contracted and fought off worse." He stepped out of his suit, then sat back down next to Tony. "I'd like a redeal," he said calmly, as if he hadn't just exposed himself to a potentially dangerous unknown substance. "You've both seen my hand."
Tony could only gape at Steve. "You know you've signed your ticket for quarantine for the next few days."
"I do." Steve took the cards from Tony's hands and swept them into a neat pile on the rolling table. "We're going to switch to spades if that's alright."
Tony just blinked dumbly. "What could have possibly possessed you to do such a thing?"
"I was sick a lot, growing up," Steve explained as he shuffled the cards with a perfect bridge. "The masks and aprons made it worse. A little physical contact would have been nice." As he spoke, he reached out with his elbow and bumped Tony's hand.
"You're certifiably insane."
Steve tipped his head in acknowledgement while he dealt the cards. "I've been called worse. Now are you going to keep staring at me, or are you going to play your hand?"
Still slightly stunned, Tony picked up his hand to see a plethora of aces and face cards. He looked over at Steve, who shrugged and grinned, and Tony knew that somehow Steve had purposefully dealt him these cards.
"I think this is a home deal," Happy griped, fanning out his cards as he sat back down.
Steve just shrugged and pretended to examine his own hand.
"Can you at least wear gloves?" Tony asked resignedly as he began counting his many tricks. "Maybe even a mask?"
"I'll see what Dr. Baker can get me."
Thankfully, Tony's cough passed as quickly as it started, which led Dr. Baker to diagnose it as a mild reaction to the accelerant. A cot was brought in for Steve by two hazmatted men, who placed it on the far side of the room. Tony however woke up to find the cot directly next to his bed and Steve's hand resting just a hair's breadth from his.
When Pepper discovered what Steve had done, she yelled at him until the supersoldier looked up at the security camera, silently begging Dr. Baker to turn the audio off. The good doctor just turned it louder.
And so after seven long days, Tony, Steve and Pepper were released with a laundry list of vitals to monitor and symptoms to report back in for. To celebrate another failed brush with death, Tony threw an exclusive party the next night for Avengers, significant others, and life-saving doctors only.
The party was in full swing by eight (which would have been a travesty back in the day, but Tony found he didn't mind so much now). After greeting all the atendees, he bumped into Steve while he was fetching another round for himself and Thor from the bar.
"Thanks," Tony said without preamble as he lifted his hand to signal his usual order.
"Don't mention it," replied Steve with a grin.
"You're still insane."
"I knew you weren't infected. All your blood work had come back negative."
Tony could feel his frustration building within him and fought desperately to keep it out of his voice. Steve wasn't considering the very real possibility that he'd been wrong, and that there was a good chance he would have ended up on the bed next to him, possibly having contracted a very serious derivation of the plague. That wasn't a risk Steve should have taken so nonchalently. And yes, a small part of Tony realized that this was incredibly hypocritical, but he knew he himself was far too late to change. There was still hope for Steve, paragon of all that was good in the States, or whatever the new catchphrase the media had come up was. "But you weren't sure."
Steve looked over at him and shrugged. "I was sure that wasn't something you should go through alone."
Once again, Tony was torn between hugging Steve and punching him in the face. He settled for knocking his elbow into Steve's, sending a tiny bit of froth sloshing over the mouth of Steve's beer.
"I owe you," Tony then said.
Steve snorted dismissively then grabbed five more beers by their necks. "After all you did for me when I was sick, it's the least I could do."
It absolutely was not, but Tony chose to let the conversation go for the night. They were supposed to be celebrating after all. So he grabbed his highball, raised it to Steve, then downed about half of it.
"Have a good night, Rogers. Try to enjoy yourself."
Steve's grin was blinding. "I'll do my best."
Up next: Steve and Tony are sent on a goodwill mission to Alaska. What could possibly go wrong?
Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought!
