Little Events

Flu

This one's dedicated to all those people that stuck by me through the endless procrastination of the writing. I love y'all, and thanks for validating me enough to motivate me.

It had started with a splutter here and there, nothing to worry about, since it was Winter, the season of stray sniffles. Everybody in the facility-who wasn't a genetically enhanced supersoldier-was suffering from a running nose, maybe a few coughs now and then, but they didn't get super sick. Apart from Tony, who didn't seem to shake his cold, still spluttering, complaining of a fuzzy headache and sore throat 'to end all sore throats' after a week of suffering. But soon enough, the few-and-far-between coughs had graduated to nearly as often as he breathed, paired with sudden, violent sneezing fits that left him breathless and red-faced, occurring more than he would let on.

But, on the morning that we set our story, Tony had coughed too hard and woken himself up, a frequent occurrence in the past week or so, though hed never have let on to the rest of the facility that he was barely sleeping. But luckily, though he felt absolutely terrible and fuzzy-headed, like he could lie in bed all day and not feel any more refreshed, he had woken up Big, and was prepared to do what he had to, in order to stay that way. His solitary mission-Coffee-was clear in his mind as he carefully unlocked the clasps on his crib, ensuring he kept his favourite stuffie nearby, for mere novelty purpose of course. He blinked the sleep from his big eyes, impatiently rubbing his running nose on the sleeve of his sleeper as he pulled the side down and slid to the ground, glad for the fact he always woke up dry. He made short work of opening the usually baby-proofed door, JARVIS making no attempt to stop a clearly big Tony Stark from getting to his early-morning caffeine, all too aware of the violence and threats that usually ensued. The still sleepy man shuffled quietly towards the kitchen, muffling a few spluttering coughs in his stuffie, not wanting to wake the others. JARVIS was very quick to ensure he was informed of a -only really tiny- fact. The time being 4.03am.

Tony was used to sneaking around early in the morning when he was big, liking to eat as little as he could and get to the workshop, or the lab, as quick as possible, before anyone could stop him. However, a spontaneous sneezing fit made his eyes water, and halted his plans. He had to stop in the middle of the hall, gripping his stomach hard as it started to ache, before slamming backwards into the wall, the explosive sneezes continuing. After only a few more, he slid to the ground, his legs too weak to hold his weight any longer. He hunched into a small ball on the floor to make it stop, the force of the sneezes rocking his small body back and forth, as he gripped his bear close. The sudden noise drew most of his family out of their rooms, sleep-tousled and wary, a few of them clutching weapons in varying stages of usability. But, when they saw the curled up man on the floor, clutching his bear with watery eyes, they soon calmed, used to the sight. Natasha, tucking the pistol she had been gripping with deadly aim into a secret sheath in her PJs, smiled a little, before crouching down.

"Tone?" She asked carefully, as she put a hand forward. He often didn't like to be touched by anyone but his Daddies-Steve and Bucky,but in this case,he let her put her hand gently on his knee with nary a flinch. Though that may have been because he was in the middle of a painful sounding coughing fit, the barking chokes wracking his body like they were ricocheting off of his ribs. She sighed sympathetically, helping him awkwardly to his feet, and leading him down the hall to the kitchen, as most of the others went back to bed for a few more hours sleep, though Steve followed the duo like a motherly phantom, already awake for an early workout. Natasha was supporting most of Tony's meagre weight as they slowly moved down the hall, having to take frequent breaks for Tony to cough up a lung or sneeze some more, resisting the urge to scoop him up. But finally, they made it, Natasha guiding Tony to his highchair, ignoring his protests as she strapped him in. "You're safer here. If you end up all curled up like you did out there, you might fall off a normal seat and hurt yourself. So even if you don't like it, you're going in here." She explained, buckling up the straps and hooking the tray on, as Steve took a seat at the table, still silent. Once Tony had started coughing again, rendering himself unable to continue the rather one-sided debate, Natasha swept across the kitchen, grabbing a water for Steve, and flipping on the coffee maker for herself, and Tony, though that was more of a courtesy than her actually having any purpose of giving it to him.