After the first round of throwing up, Tony felt marginally better. For about five minutes. Which gave him just enough time to pack what he needed in a duffle bag before he found himself running back into the bathroom to pray to the porcelain god again.

He winced and he ran a hand through his sweat ridden locks. Every time he heaved it felt like his head was going to explode. All the lights in the bathroom and bedroom were off because they'd become unbearable. He'd definitely missed the boat on preventing this from reaching nuclear status.

A wave of nausea hit him again and he leaned forward, barely able to see where to aim in the darkness. Shit. He hadn't had a migraine this bad in years. It might actually be the worst one he'd ever had.

"Fuck." He mumbled when he was done. At least he didn't have much of anything in his stomach to come back up since he'd had almost no time to eat during the day. Although the dry heaving seemed almost worst. He spit into the toilet and flushed, the sound assaulting his ears like a jet engine. As he forced himself off the floor, he let out a small moan, but somehow managed to make it over to the sink to rinse his mouth out and splash some cold water on his face.

"Tony? Where are you? Everyone's waiting." Cap's voice called out from his bedroom as he finished toweling off his face.

"Do you ever knock?" He asked but there was no heat to it.

Steve nudged open the bathroom door and stepped in.

"Why are all the lights off in here?" He asked, flicking the switch on before waiting for an answer.

Tony wasn't proud of his response as he let out strangled cry and slammed his eyes shut, covering the upper part of his face with the towel still in his hand.

"Sorry." Steve said. "Um FRIDAY? Lights twenty percent."

The lights dimmed accordingly.

Tony could feel Steve staring at him but he didn't move the towel away. Even with the lights lowered he was fairly certain he was on the precipice of losing the battle with his stomach again and he didn't want to chance it.

"FRIDAY can you update Bruce on the situation and send him up here?" Steve requested.

"No, I don't need—" He tried to protest but he knew it came across as less than convincing since he was still hiding behind a towel.

"You look horrible." Steve stated, his voice now coming from right next to him.

He scoffed automatically, which was a mistake. "Wow thanks. I—" He didn't get a chance to finish before he had to dive back to the toilet as his stomach rebelled.

"Shit." Steve swore softly and a second later he felt the man's hand on his back. He knew he shouldn't accept the comfort, should make some sort of sarcastic remark, but he was too busy getting sick, and deep down he had to admit it almost seemed to help. Almost.

"You didn't take Bruce's pill did you?"

He knew the exact scathing comment he wanted to say in response, but since he was otherwise occupied, he had to settle for an annoyed groan instead.

"Ok ok. Sorry. Stupid question." Steve apologized as if he'd heard exactly what Tony had wanted to say.

After what felt like forever, his stomach finally stopped trying to turn itself inside out and Steve helped him up and over to the sink to rinse out his mouth again.

"FRIDAY said I was needed." Bruce said as he walked in mid-spit. "How are you doing?"

Tony squinted at him through the dim lighting and rasped, "Great. Wonderful. Can't you tell?"

"Yeah I heard you've been getting well acquainted with the toilet." Bruce lifted an eyebrow but Tony could still see the concern behind his eyes.

"I'm fine." He denied but even as he said it, he leaned back against the counter, feeling done in and exhausted.

"Yeah you look it." Bruce countered.

"Between the two of you you're going to give me a complex." He joked.

Bruce hummed. "It must not be too dire if your sense of humor is still intact, but I have some things that should help. Let's get you over to the bed."

Steve grasped his upper arm but Tony tugged away. "Uh, no, I don't think that's a great idea. I should probably just stay right here for awhile."

"That bad?" Bruce asked.

"I just need to get it out of my system and then I'll be ready to go."

"I'm sure." Bruce said and glanced around the bathroom before addressing Steve, "Let's sit him against the wall there. That should give me enough space."

"I'm right here you know." He complained, hating to be talked about like he wasn't in the room.

"Oh, we know." Steve said as he helped him sit in the designated spot before backing away to give Bruce room to work.

"I think it's too late for the pill I gave you before." Bruce told him as he dug through a small canvas bag he'd brought with him. Tony hadn't even noticed it until just now.

"Think so." He agreed and took a deep breath through his nose as he tilted his head back against the wall, wanting nothing more than to just go lay down somewhere quiet and sleep this off.

"Here." Bruce said and he opened his eyes to see him holding out a small pill. "Let this dissolve on your tongue. You don't need to swallow it."

Tony took it and did just as Bruce had directed, closing his eyes again as he waited for it to dissolve.

"I think we should wait until tomorrow morning to head to the compound." Steve said, keeping his voice quiet.

"No. We're going tonight." He answered, the pill already mostly dissolved. "It's only a twenty minute flight. I can handle it. I'll just hold a bucket if I have to."

"Yeah let's try to avoid that. For everyone's sake." Bruce said. "We can probably leave the bucket at home if we give this stuff at least half an hour to kick in."

Tony opened his eyes long enough to catch Steve nodding and Bruce drawing up some clear liquid from a vial into a syringe.

"Dad?"

Tony's gaze snapped over to where Peter stood in the doorway of the bathroom with his backpack slung over his shoulder, looking a mix of confused and worried.

"Uh, hey kid."

"What's going on?" Peter dropped the backpack to the ground and took a few steps forward before Tony held his hand up as if to ward him back.

Steve stepped in and gently gripped Peter's shoulder before he could throw himself down on the ground next to Tony.

"I'm fine. I promise." Tony tried to reassure him as Bruce finished preparing the syringe that he was undoubtedly about to get stuck with soon.

"This doesn't look like you're fine." Peter argued.

Tony wanted nothing more than to close his eyes again but he forced himself to keep them open and straighten up so he wouldn't look quite so pitiful to Peter.

"He'll be fine." Bruce interjected in his usual calm tone. "It's just a bad migraine."

Tony couldn't help the slight glare he gave to his friend. Just a migraine. He'd like to see how Bruce handled getting hit over the head with a sledgehammer. On second thought, no, he didn't. He'd turn all huge and green. Stupid. What he hated the most about his migraines was how slow and foggy his mind seemed to get. Like being slightly drunk and incredibly hungover simultaneously.

Bruce ignored the glare and started unbuttoning the front of his shirt instead. He'd already taken off his suit coat and tie earlier, but he was otherwise still in the same clothes he'd worn for the press conference.

"Can you help me get this off of him?" Bruce asked Steve and his friend knelt down, leaving Peter standing a couple feet behind. Tony felt more than useless as the two of them managed to maneuver his limbs with relative ease in order to get the shirt and vest off of him. With his arm now bare, Bruce wiped an alcohol swab over a spot his left shoulder as he uncapped the syringe with his teeth.

"Little poke." Bruce warned, but it came out slightly garbled with the plastic cap between his teeth.

Tony made a face as he felt the needle sink into his skin, but within a few seconds it was done.

"There." Bruce said as he put the syringe away. "That should start to work soon. Think you can make it to your bed now?"

Tony took a second to assess. Remarkably the nausea that had dogged him earlier seemed to have subsided somewhat. He wasn't sure if it was from the natural course of everything or if Bruce's drugs were already kicking in.

"Yeah, I think so."

"All right. Let's get you up." Bruce looked over at Steve. "On three. One. Two. Three."

They hauled him to his feet and his head pounded but he didn't think he was at risk of throwing up again. "Ok." He said after a few seconds as they waited for him to get his equilibrium. "I'm good."

They stayed close to his side as he walked into the bedroom and crawled onto the bed, face planting into his pillow. A moment later, he felt the mattress next to him dip as someone climbed onto the other side of his bed to sit next to him. He didn't have to look to know it was Peter.

"Don't suffocate yourself." Bruce joked.

"Death might be preferable." He complained into his pillow.

"I don't know." Steve teased. "That'd be a pretty embarrassing press conference to have to do."

Bruce snorted.

"I hate you both."

"No you don't." Steve chuckled.

He let out a noncommittal grunt.

"Just rest for bit and give that stuff some time to kick in. We'll come get you when we're ready to take off." Bruce said and Tony gave him a weak thumbs up.

As Bruce and Steve left, their footsteps reverberated like drums in his ears. He buried his face even further into his pillow, just wanting to get absorbed into it and forget he even had a head.

The pain was still too bad to sleep, so he hovered in that in between state of asleep and awake and lost all concept of time until a hesitant hand rested on his back. It took his foggy brain a few seconds to remember Peter still hadn't left his side.

"You don't have to stay." He mumbled.

"I want to." Peter whispered, mindful of his migraine.

"I'm not going to be good company."

"That's ok. I don't mind."

He would've argued further but he didn't have the energy, so he sighed and allowed it.

It seemed like between one breath and the next, Steve had returned, but he knew that since that wasn't possible, he must've fallen asleep.

"Tony?" Steve lightly touched his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Time to go." Steve said. "Unless you just want to stay here. You can sleep it off and we'll go in the morning."

That did sound nice, but the emotional and irrational parts of him itched to get Peter out of the city. As safe as the tower was, he wanted him somewhere even safer, which was the compound. No one could even get within miles of it without triggering an alert.

He groaned into his pillow before pushing himself up. "No. I'm…" He rubbed a hand down his face. "I'm up."

"Here." Steve handed him one of his worn MIT sweatshirts. Right. He'd forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Thanks." He mumbled, sliding his arms into it and over his head. The softness felt nice against his skin. Peter brought over a pair of shoes and he toe'd them on. "Ok. I'm ready."

"Is that your bag?" Steve asked, pointing at his packed duffle on the floor outside the bathroom.

"Oh. Yeah." He definitely would've forgotten it.

"I'll take it down to the Quinjet for you." Steve snagged the strap and put it over his shoulder as Peter grabbed his own bag off the floor nearby.

"Thanks." He said as he stood. He couldn't tell if his head actually felt better or if he was just forcing himself to believe it did, but at least the nausea seemed to be gone for good.

As he walked out, Peter and Steve hovered on either side of him but he resisted the urge to comment.

The journey to the Quinjet was short but miserable. His whole body begged to be allowed to rest as he forced it to function. Thankfully, the interior lights had already been dimmed when he got there and everyone was atypically quiet so they'd obviously been warned about his situation.

Steve took him by the upper arm and led him over to one of the beds. Usually he would've protested the babying but he was too miserable to care about his ego at the moment. He collapsed onto the bed, shoving his face into the pillow, barely feeling it as Steve covered him with a blanket. The usually uncomfortable bed felt like heaven and he was out cold before the Quinjet took off.

Tony woke up disoriented. It took him a few long moments to recognize he was lying in his bed at the compound. His head ached and his brain felt fuzzy like he couldn't think quite right yet. It took him another couple seconds to remember why.

Right. He'd had the mother of migraines to end all migraines so Bruce had shot him up with something and then Steve and Peter had helped him to the Quinjet. He remembered laying down on a bed in the Quinjet and then…nothing. From the morning light cresting through the windows he knew that must've been yesterday evening, but he had absolutely no recollection of how he'd gotten into his bed at the compound. Squinting up at the ceiling, he blinked as he tried harder to remember but nothing came to him. Huh. He didn't think he'd ever blacked out from a migraine before.

A soft knock sounded at his door.

"Come in." His voice cracked and he cleared his dry throat.

Bruce walked in. "FRIDAY told me you were awake."

"Yeah." He pushed himself up to rest against the padded headboard.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." He answered and it wasn't a lie.

"Good. The migraine's gone?"

Tony nodded. "Just a normal headache now."

Bruce smiled. "I have something for that." He held out a few pills and Tony took them, throwing them back before taking the bottle of water Bruce handed him to wash them down.

"What'd I just take?" He asked after he'd swallowed them.

Bruce snorted. "I love how you ask me that after you've already taken them."

Tony smirked. "What can I say? I must trust you."

Bruce shook his head in consternation. "Just ibuprofen, but that should hopefully knock out whatever's left of the headache."

Tony nodded.

"The nausea's gone?" Bruce asked, crossing his arms and studying him. Tony didn't blame him for being skeptical. He wasn't exactly known for being the most truthful or forthcoming when it came to his health.

"Yeah. I'm just feeling a little uh-" He admitted as he motioned toward his head and tried to think of the right word to describe it. "-fuzzy. Muggy. You know. Not quite firing on all cylinders yet."

"That could be from the migraine or a side effect of the medication I gave you last night."

Tony nodded and his brow furrowed. "And for some reason I can't remember anything after getting in the Quinjet yesterday. Is that a normal migraine thing or something—" He broke off as Bruce stifled a laugh with his hand.

"What?"

"You don't remember because you were sleeping."

"I know, but then when we got here, I must've woken up and—"

Bruce was shaking his head. "No. You've been asleep since the Quinjet."

"Ok… Then how did I get here?" He asked patting the Egyptian cotton sheets under him.

"Steve carried you." Bruce answered simply and then broke out into a wide amused grin.

"Oh god." He closed his eyes and let his head fall back to thunk against the headboard, which didn't help his headache.

"Don't worry. Only everyone saw." Bruce teased. "And I think a few pictures may have been taken. You did look precious all wrapped up in your blanket and drooling on Cap."

Tony winced in embarrassment, groaning and covering his face with his hand. "You should've woken me up."

"You needed the rest. And if you want to blame someone, you can blame Peter. He insisted we let you sleep. He didn't want you to wake up and be in pain again."

Tony huffed out an exasperated sigh. He hadn't wanted Peter to see him like that in the first place, but he supposed what was done was done. And he couldn't blame his kid for not wanting to see him hurting anymore. At least it was only the team. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen him in even more embarrassing and vulnerable positions before.

"Maybe I'll just hide out in here today." He joked, finally uncovering his face.

Bruce smiled. "I was going to suggest the same thing."

"I'm kidding."

"I'm not." Bruce patted him on the shoulder. "You should take it easy today."

"I can't. I have things," he waved a hand in the air, "to deal with."

"They can wait."

Tony gave him a skeptical look. They really couldn't. His adopted son's identity had been leaked to the press yesterday.

"If you push yourself too hard or stress yourself too much you'll just make yourself sick again." Bruce warned.

Tony sighed in resignation as he rubbed at his eyes.

"I'll bring you some breakfast. You shouldn't take those pills on an empty stomach."

"You're the one that gave them to me." Tony accused, dropping his hand.

"Oops." Bruce shrugged, not sounding at all sorry. "I guess you'll just have to eat something then."

Tony scoffed. Bruce clapped him on the shoulder again and left. He let out another sigh as the door closed behind the man.

"FRI, be a dear and turn the TV on, would you?"

"Are you sure that's wise? Dr. Banner just advised—"

"Just turn it on." He said in exasperation.

The TV clicked on.

"And of course Tony Stark's huge announcement yesterday has everyone reeling." The morning news anchor was talking about his press conference. No big surprise.

"We all knew something was up with all the pictures that had been released over the past few months. The first one, the infamous one of Stark, and as we now know, his adopted son, sitting on that couch after the signing of the Accords, was leaked all the way back in December. It's just surprising it's taken this long to uncover the truth."

"Well, not really all that surprising." His co-anchor piped in. "I mean this is Tony Stark we're talking about. Honestly, what I find surprising is that we found anything out at all."

"Damn right." He mumbled to himself.

"Oh please." The man rolled his eyes. "Not even Tony Stark has that kind of power. The people wanted to know and the people found out. I don't understand why he'd even try to hide it in the first place."

"You don't?" The woman scoffed. Tony decided he liked her.

"That kid won the jackpot." The man continued. "His adopted father is Tony Stark. Ironman. If it were me, I'd be yelling it from the rooftops for everyone to hear."

"I'm sure you would." The woman agreed and her co-anchor didn't seem to recognize her sarcasm.

"I mean come on, what kid hasn't dreamed of being Tony Stark's child?"

Tony scrunched up his face. He really hoped that wasn't true. His life was highly publicized, not to mention dangerous.

"Well, I imagine if Peter had the choice, he'd rather have his real parents. Or I guess in this case, his aunt, the woman that raised him. The one that died last summer." The woman reminded him pointedly.

"Yes yes that part is all very sad." The man said with clearly fake sympathy. "But you're missing the big picture here."

"Am I?" She sounded like she didn't believe that she was.

"Yes! A poor orphaned genius from Queens was adopted by his internship mentor, Tony Stark, in his time of need. It's a modern day Cinderella story."

"I don't really see the correlation. The last time I checked I'm pretty sure Cinderella married the prince in order to get away from her evil stepmother."

The man waved away her argument. "What I'm saying is this kid's aunt dying was the best thing that ever happened to him."

Tony grit his teeth and a stab of pain erupted behind his left eye. God. He couldn't let Peter see this stuff.

The woman wasn't even trying to hide her distaste at this point. She looked disgusted by the words coming out of her coworker's mouth. Good. At least it wasn't just him.

The man continued, "He's going to be filthy rich. Famous. His life will never be the same again."

Well, Tony had to admit that last part was right.

"Mark my words. They're going to adapt this story into a movie." The man said with unbridled glee.

The woman just shook her head.

"Over my dead body." Tony mumbled.

"Why are you watching this crap?" Pepper asked as she came in holding a breakfast tray. "I thought you were supposed to be resting."

"I am." Tony argued. "I'm just also catching up on what they've been saying, since I wasn't in any shape to do it last night."

"I heard." Pepper said as she carefully set the tray down over his lap.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Although in the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you it's actually from Bruce. He caught me in the kitchen and asked me to bring it to you. I'm just the deliverer."

"Deliverer? Is that even a word?"

"It is now." Pepper replied simply before adding, "FRIDAY, turn the TV off please."

The TV blinked off.

"You don't need to watch that. You already know what they're saying."

"Hm. Knowing it and hearing it for myself are two completely different things." Tony said.

"Exactly." Pepper sighed. "Why torture yourself?"

Instead of answering, Tony turned his attention to the food on his tray. Scrambled eggs, toast, fruit and coffee. It looked surprisingly appetizing. He took a bite of the eggs before asking, "You haven't been watching it then?"

"That's different. It's my job."

"Sure." Tony raised an eyebrow. "So it's your job but not mine?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must've misunderstood all those years ago when you made me the CEO of your company." Pepper sniped.

Tony couldn't keep from grinning. "Hmm. I might have some vague recollection of that."

"Right." Pepper snorted, something she only ever did in front of him.

"Well, if you've been watching the news then you can just give me the highlights to spare me from having to watch it myself." He suggested, taking a sip of coffee.

"Public sentiment is pretty split. Half of them love the idea and half of them hate it." Pepper said.

Tony took a bite of toast. That was about what he'd expected. The public had always had a love hate relationship with him. It'd started to lean more toward the love side after he'd stopped SI's production of weapons and became Ironman but his persona had taken quite a hit with all the fallout from the Accords. Even though the team had moved on from it, a lot of people in the public still had strong feelings about it and his role in it.

"But regardless of how they feel about you," Pepper continued, "they all want to know everything they possibly can about him."

"Of course they do." He mumbled, not at all happy to hear that, but also not surprised.

"Have you had a chance to talk to Peter yet?" She asked.

"No. Not yet. Between my head trying to split itself apart, puking my guts out, and passing out in the Quinjet, I couldn't quite seem to find the right moment yesterday."

Pepper smiled and he could tell she was trying not to laugh.

"Go ahead. Laugh at my misfortunes." Tony said glibly as he finished off his eggs. "I know it pushes some kind of sick button for you."

Pepper let out a short laugh and covered her mouth to try and restrain it. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know it's not funny." She took a breath and composed herself.

Tony gave her a withering look as he took a long drink of coffee.

"I'm glad you're feeling better today, though." She said, still smiling.

"I am." He speared a blackberry with his fork. "I mean, as well as I could be with my kid's identity out there and being splashed across the media."

Pepper wrinkled her nose. "It's less than ideal, you're right, but it can't be helped now, and I think we have a good plan in place moving forward."

He nodded. They did. But that didn't mean he had to like it. That was one big difference between the two of them. Tony fought every unpleasant outcome he'd ever been dealt and played the 'what if' game way more than was healthy, but Pepper didn't. She accepted things as they came and then found a way to deal with them and move on. A good quality for a CEO. It was probably why SI was thriving under her leadership more than it ever had under his.

"FRI, is Peter up?" He asked.

"He is. And he has just finished breakfast." FRIDAY answered.

"Can you send him in here?"

"Of course." FRIDAY acknowledged and a moment later added, "He's on his way."

"I'll talk to him now." Tony told Pepper with some cheek.

"Good." Pepper nodded. "Let me know how it goes."

"I will." He said around the last bit of egg he shoved in his mouth.

Pepper reached out and grabbed his last half eaten piece of toast, taking a bite of it with a smirk.

"Hey." He protested and gave her a mock shocked look.

"Oh please. You weren't going to eat it." She accused, taking another bite.

"You don't know that. Maybe I was."

"You weren't." She said with certainty as she turned to leave.

He wasn't. But he was never going to admit it.

"Thief!" He called out after her.

She turned at his door to give him a smile and a roll of her eyes before walking out and leaving him with his own smile on his face.

A/N:

Slinks in 10 months after last post. Deposits some shameless Tony whump. Backs away quietly...

Ok so in my defense I had a baby which brings the current (and final) gremlin count up to two – a 2 yo and a 5 month old, who I have to watch myself during the day on top of working part time on evenings and weekends while also attempting to finish editing my first draft of a novel I've been working on for going on 4 years now…

Does that excuse it even just a little bit? No?

Anyway, sorry for the long wait. I promise I'm doing the best I can.

Happy holidays to everyone and thanks for reading!