Sad Excuses for Superheros (Avengers: Steve)

[matilda3948]

Seems like there's been a renewed interest in Avengers stories lately (awesome!!!  ) and I have a story I wanted to share. It's set just after the Iron Man 3 movie and before Civil War. It features a sick Steve and an anxious, panicky Tony. 

"Sad Excuses for Superheros"

Steve sighed and leaned back against the wall of the elevator as he zipped up to the higher floors of Stark Towers. He’d been gone on a mission for longer than he would have liked and, truth be told, he wasn’t feeling completely well. If he didn’t know better, he would have said he was coming down with—

huhhTSHHoo!

—a cold. Steve sniffled and rubbed his nose against the back of his wrist. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a cold. As much as he desperately wanted to go to bed, he wanted to check on Tony first. The elevator came to a stop and Steve made his way over to the lab.

Tony was staring at his work bench trying to decide if he had the energy to lift arms to solder the two wires together when Jarvis’ voice startled him.

“Sir, Captain Rogers is here to see you.”

“Tell him I’m busy. No—tell him I’m gone. Yeah, gone is better.”

“Are you certain, sir? You haven’t talked to another person in almost a week.”

“I’m talking to you,” Tony said.

“Strictly speaking, sir, I am not a person. While I may be able to—”

“Jarvis! Just tell him I’m not here.”

“Too late,” Steve called out from the other side of the glass door into the lab. He tried to open the door but it was locked.

“Go home, Cap. I’m not here right now. My state of the art, cutting edge technological assistant should have told you.” Steve sighed and rattled the door again.

“Hey Jarvis, can you help me out?” Steve asked. The lock immediately released and he was able to enter the lab. “Thanks,” he said.

“My pleasure, Captain Rogers.”

“Traitor,” Tony mumbled. “Make yourself useful and put some coffee on.” Steve looked around confused. “Not you,” Tony clarified. “My traitorous technology. So…to what do I owe this unannounced and mostly unwanted visit?”

“I’m sorry about your house—the one in Malibu I mean. This one, the penthouse, is nice.”

“If memory serves, you’re the one who called it ‘that big ugly building in New York’ not that long ago.” Steve rubbed the back of his head and smiled as Tony rolled his stool over to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup.

“I’m pretty sure I was thinking of another building,” Steve said. Tony nodded and poured a second cup, wheeled back over and handed it to his friend.

“You didn’t come up here to talk about my house,” Tony said.

“No I didn’t. I wanted to see how you were doing. Would have come earlier but Fury had me out on assignment. Read up on everything though—it got pretty bahh huhhTSHHoo! Excuse me. Pretty bad.” Tony rubbed his forehead but didn’t speak up. “So…how are you?” Steve asked.

“I’m fine.” Tony’s answer was nearly robotic. Steve crossed his arms and leaned back against the work bench looking his friend over from head to toe. There was something vaguely familiar in Tony’s posture, the disconnected look in his eyes, and the absolute fatigue in his voice. Unfortunately, Steve couldn’t hold back a sneeze one second longer. He brought a fist up to his nose and ducked his head.

huhhTSHHoo NTSHHoo!

“Bless you,” Tony said. It almost sounded like a question—it was totally out of character to see Captain America sneeze, even if he was in street clothes.

“Sorry,” he said with a sniffle. Tony narrowed his eyes.

“Are you…sick? Can you even get sick?”

“Apparently. Not sure 1940’s science was geared for this century’s bugs.  Just a head cold but I haven’t been able to stop sneezing all day.” As if determined to prove his point, he lurched forward.

HuhSHHoo! hhTSHHoo! Ehh…huh huhhTSHHHoo!

“Jeez! Bless you, Cap,” Tony said. He stood up and walked over to one of his shelves and grabbed a roll of paper towels. He tore off a few and held them out. “Usually these are for cleaning oily machine parts but they’re better than nothing.”

“Thags.” Steve turned his head and blew his nose. “And I’m sorry. I know you’re not a fan of germs.” Tony shrugged and waved off the apology.

“Hypochondria—who has the time anymore? Especially with all the stuff we’ve seen. Fearing germs almost seems…quaint by comparison—”

HuhhSSSHHOOOOO!

“Ugh. My ear drums,” Tony said.

“Sorry,” Steve said from behind a balled up paper towel. He blushed as Tony put a hand on his forehead.

“You actually feel a little warm,” Tony said. “Of course I don’t make a habit of touching you so maybe you always feel like that. I wouldn’t know. If Bruce were here he could probably check you out but he’s on sabbatical right now. Starting to think maybe I should get some of that gamma ray exposure for myself if it meant I got to take every other week off to decompress. I mean, being unable to control transforming into—”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Why do people keep asking me that?” Tony asked.

“Because you look terrible.”

“Hey. How did we go from talking about you being sick to me being exhausted?” Tony demanded, standing up. Steve matched his posture, the two of them squaring off.

“Because you’re avoiding my questions about the Mandarin, your house being destroyed, your friend almost dying, Pepper almost—”

“Shut up, Cap! Just…just shut up please.” Tony could feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest and spots clouding out his vision. As Steve watched his friend struggle to take a deep breath, the pieces all fell into place.

“I know what this is,” he said. “Tony, I’ve seen this before. It’s okay. Just sit back down.” Tony all but collapsed onto the stool by his work bench. Steve crouched down in front of him. “I’m sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean to push you too hard. Just sit here and calm down.” Tony squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on his breathing. He felt so overwhelmed he couldn’t even be embarrassed that Steve was watching him—that would come later of course. Steve only stood up when a tickle in his throat turned into a full blown coughing fit. Both men seemed to recover at about the same time. Tony dragged a hand over his face.

“We’re both pretty sad excuses for superheroes today,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. You need some cold medicine and I’ve got video of the ’86 Mets winning the World Series. It’s one of the few things from the 1980’s worth seeing.

“Tony, we’ve got talk about—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’ll talk too. I just…I need a minute.”

Thirty minutes later and the two men reconvened in the media room—a large, dark space with a huge sectional sofa and an even bigger television. When Tony came in he saw Steve had changed into sweat pants and a hoodie. He looked every bit like an all American college kid. Well, apart from the fact that he was sneezing into a handkerchief which Tony assumed people stopped using sometime in the 1950’s.

HuhhMNchhh! hhngshhoo! heh huhhIHHNTSHHOOO!

“Bless you. Here.” Tony tossed him a bottle of Nyquil. “Great stuff. Invented while you were a Capsickle. Should stop the sneezing and knock you out for a good four or five hours.” Then Tony put two mugs down on the table. “I hate this stuff but people swear it’s good for you.” Steve took a sip.

“It’s chamomile tea,” he said.

“I know. Gross. But apparently scotch isn’t a valid substitute.” Tony got settled on the sofa and sipped his tea as well. He would never admit it, but the routine of making tea after an anxiety attack did help him settle down some and he knew he wasn’t off the hook quite yet. “So…you said you’d seen that before,” Tony said slowly. Steve sniffed and cleared his throat.

“I had an uncle who fought in World War I. When he came back he was…different. They all were,” Steve said. “The things they saw changed them. Back then we called it shell shock.”

“Yeah. Now we call it PTSD—post traumatic stress disorder. What you saw was an anxiety attack.”

“Does thahh heh…scuse me…” He grabbed his handkerchief and brought it to his nose.

Heh huhh…huhIHH…huhhTSCHoo! NG’Tshhoo!

“Sorry. Does that happen to you often?” Steve asked as he rubbed his nose in the fabric. Tony shrugged.

“I guess it depends on what you define as ‘often,’” he said. “Sometimes I won’t have one for weeks and then sometimes I’ll have three or four in a single night.”

“So you don’t sleep?”

“Had a hard time of it after New York. Thought it was getting better and then…” his voice trailed off.

“I’m really sorry, Tony.”

“I’m just…I’m constantly worried next time I won’t be fast enough or strong enough or smart enough. I mean, people depend on me—us—to keep them safe. The weight of it…it’s just…”

“I know,” Steve said quietly.

“It wasn’t losing the house in Malibu. I can build stuff. Hell, building stiff is what I do best. It’s the stuff I can’t rebuild that keeps me awake.” Steve could see Tony starting to get upset again. He slid over and put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Take a deep breath,” he said. “Tony, try and slow your breathing down.” They sat there for a few minutes while Tony tried to calm down again. Steve moved his hand between Tony’s shoulder blades and could feel how shallow his breathing was. Gradually, he settled down again and finally lifted his head.

“I’m exhausted, Cap.”

“I had no idea, Tony. Is there anything I can do?

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Baseball?” Steve asked. Tony nodded.

“Baseball.”

Tony brought up the game on the big screen and then got up and grabbed a couple blankets from a basket on the floor.

HuhNSHHoo! hhSSHHoo! huh huhhTSHHHoo!

“Bless you. That medicine won’t work if you don’t actually take it,” Tony said.

HuhhMNshhh! hhnt’shhoo! huhhSHHOOO!

“Bless you again.” Tony flopped back down on the sofa.

“Ugh. Thag you. I’b sorry.” The last fit of sneezes left Steve feeling congested and heady. He blew his nose and then poured a capful of the green liquid medicine and swallowed it down. He glanced at the label and then asked Tony,

“You said this would make me sleep?”

“Absolutely. You’ll be asleep before the fourth inning.” Steve held the bottle out towards Tony—the man really, really needed to get some sleep. Tony nodded and took a gulp straight from the bottle.

“Cheers.”

A half hour later the Mets were in the bottom of the third inning, and two superheroes were sound asleep on the sofa, snoring softly.

 

[Seniorstatus14]

Oh my goodness!!! That is too precious!! Sick Captain America is my favorite!!  Let's be real, Captain America anything is my favorite lol.

[queenie]

Precious! I'm with Seniorstatus14-- I have a huge embarrassing crush on Steve Rogers. 

[Rook]

my my MY BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN

Edited August 8, 2016 by batmansgirl

[SleepingPhlox]

You write an absolutely wonderful Tony.  That's the highest compliment I can give, because I can be super fussy where he is concerned.   Sorry, I know this is meant to be a Steve fic but I couldn't help but compliment you on that.  

[sapphiremint]

This is super sweet and I really like how you wrote PTSD!Tony.  After Civil War, I think the fandom has been in much need of less angsty Steve and Tony interactions.

[sneezymk]

Amazing ☆

I love this so much. You're an excellent writer ☆

[Sitruuna]

Helping Tony sleep despite anxiety attacks and such is the kind of use of cold meds that I definitely can approve of. That was a really nice ending ok.

Edited August 8, 2016 by Sitruuna

[ID2006]

Yay! My second favorite Avengers pairing. Will you be continuing this, because you totally should?

[matilda3948]

Thank you all so much for the comments!!  I'd always meant this to be a one-shot but I'm thinking up some ideas for possible other stories.

On 8/8/2016 at 1:54 PM, ickydog2006 said:

Yay! My second favorite Avengers pairing. Will you be continuing this, because you totally should?

 

What's your favorite pairing? Just out of curiosity

[ID2006]

Science bros (Stark/Banner)

[fufufufu]

Guhhhh Steve with a sneezy head cold.  LOVE 

 

[Lonewolf360]

I'm new to having an account on this site... can someone on here explain the basics to me?  Also this is a really great story