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Tony leans over the toilet and retches again, causing more of his partially digested dinner to splash into the bowl.
Rhodey is standing just inside the lab’s bathroom, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest. He sighs. “Dude, if you knew the whipped cream was spoiled, why the fuck would you eat it?”
Tony leans back against the wall with a groan. “Because…” he rasps. “Should’ve seen Morgan’s face…” He breathes out slowly. “Never seen someone so proud... of a cake.” With a sickly burp, he leans back over the bowl and heaves again.
Rhodey’s brow furrows. “Are they sick too then?” He only arrived at the lake house twenty minutes ago—it was nearly ten o’clock by the time he finished his debriefings, so he’d missed Tony’s little birthday celebration. Though given the current state of his friend, he’s almost glad now. “Should I go check on them?”
“Nah. Cake was strawberry an’ cream filled. She and Pep”—Tony pauses to spit a string of bile into the bowl—“they’re both allergic. Happy’s on some diet and Peter’s lactose intolerant. Just made it for me. ’S my favorite.”
Rhodey shakes his head slowly in disbelief. “So you ate a piece of rotten cake, just to make your kids happy?”
“No.” Tony glances up. His eyes are bloodshot with dark circles under them and traces of vomit are still on his chin. It’s so pathetic-looking that Rhodey’s heart clenches. “I ate two pieces.”
With a deep sigh, Rhodey pushes himself away from the door and steps further into the bathroom to fill a glass with water from the sink. He passes it to Tony, who eyes it suspiciously before taking a cautious sip.
Tony swallows the water and then makes a face so pained-looking that for a few seconds Rhodey is certain it’ll come right back up again. But then he just swallows hard and presses his fingers to a spot on his right temple, eyes closed.
Rhodey reaches over him to flush the toilet, eliciting a whimper from the other man. He frowns—Tony only reacts to noise like that in one situation. “Shit, you have a migraine too?”
Tony lifts his free hand slightly, wobbling it side to side in a so-so gesture. “’S not too bad. Jus’... Peter gave me this candle he custom ordered for me. Supposed to smell like… motor oil? Or WD-40, or... something.”
Rhodey winces in sympathy. Strong fragrances have always been a migraine trigger for his friend—something Tony himself knows well. “And you lit it?”
Tony shrugs. “He was so excited.”
“You should’ve just said something,” Rhodey says, rolling his eyes. “I seriously doubt he’d want you to suffer for a candle.”
Tony makes a non-committal sound in his throat before starting to push himself up. Rhodey quickly moves forward to help, looping an arm around Tony’s elbow, but when he pulls him up, Tony grunts sharply and presses a hand to his upper left side.
“Whoa,” Rhodey says, readjusting his grip. “You alright?”
“Yeah, yeah…” Tony breathes out. “Think I cracked a rib or two earlier. No biggie.”
Rhodey blinks at him. “The fuck, man?”
Tony gives him a sheepish look. “Pete gave me a hug when he first got here. Got a little…”—he flaps his hand a bit—“enthusiastic.” He starts shuffling out of the bathroom, leaning heavily on his friend for support. “He didn’t seem to notice, so I didn’t mention it.”
Rhodey snorts. “This is some birthday, huh?”
“Eh, I’ve had worse…” Tony mutters, scratching at his stomach.
They make their way to the small lounge area on the back wall of the lab and Rhodey carefully eases the other man down onto the sofa. As Tony stretches out, Rhodey pulls over a trashcan and positions it next to him, just in case.
It’s a good thing he does because not even two minutes later, Tony is sitting up with a groan and retching into it miserably yet again.
Between gags, Tony huffs humorlessly. “Funny. Can’t even tell if ‘s from the headache or the food poisoning.”
Rhodey winces. “That’s… really not good, man.” When Tony looks to be done, he takes the trashcan back to the bathroom to rinse it out quickly before replacing it by the sofa.
“Thanks,” Tony croaks. He scratches his arm a few times. “Don’ know why I’m so itchy…”
“Maybe you’re just overheated. Let’s take the sweater off,” Rhodey suggests, gesturing to the oversized Hawkeye sweatshirt Tony is currently wearing. “Why do you have a shirt with Clint on it anyway?” he wonders.
“Morgan got it for me. He’s her favorite Avenger,” Tony grumbles as he tugs the shirt off. “Don’t know where I went wrong.”
Rhodey snorts out a laugh at that, but then sobers instantly upon seeing the bright red rash covering Tony’s torso. “Dude. I think you’re allergic to it.”
Frowning, Tony glances down at the hives on his chest and stomach. “Fuck. Must be the dye.” He pauses for a beat. “Or just essence of Barton.”
Rhodey rolls his eyes. “Sure, Tony.” He turns to head toward the door. “First aid stuff’s still in the kitchen, right? I’m gonna go get you some”—he gestures vaguely—“of everything.”
Tony rolls over, pressing his face into the cushion. “You’re the best...” he mumbles.
X
Thirty minutes later, Tony’s managed to get down half a glass of water, three Excedrin, two Benadryl, and a capful of Pepto. An ice pack is pressed to his broken rib, a cold compress is over his eyes, and his bare chest is covered in anti-itch cream as he snores quietly.
Rhodey’s nursing duties now complete, he sits in the chair beside the small sofa, scrolling through his private Facebook account on his phone. It mostly consists of cat videos from Nat, ‘Tasty’ recipe posts (all featuring ungodly amounts of melted cheese now as Happy’s diet enters week two), and an array of cringe-worthy Minion memes, mostly shared by Bruce. But when he comes across a picture Pepper posted earlier, he pauses his scrolling.
Tony—wearing his new Hawkeye sweater—is sitting on the porch swing, Morgan cuddled in his lap. There’s a shared sparkle in their eyes as if they’ve been caught in the middle of some inside joke. A two-tiered strawberry-and-cream-filled cake, topped with lit candles, is resting on the small table in front of him. One additional candle in a jar labeled ‘World’s Best Mentor’ sits to the side in front of Peter, who is grinning widely. Pepper and Happy stand just behind them—Pepper smiling sweetly at the camera, Happy squinting slightly.
Glancing back to his sleeping friend, Rhodey smirks and shakes his head.
Seems like Tony had a pretty good birthday after all.