gadgeteerphilanthropist:
iamthefirechild:
“I bet you don’t keep any meds around here at all, do you.” She put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to finish. “All right. Do you feel cold, or hot?”
Voice scratchy, Tony volunteered, “Tylenol in the…” but trailed off, seeming a bit befuddled.
-The cabinet, in the en suite bathroom.-
With that established, Tony added, “Kinda chilly.”
“Somehow I don’t think Tylenol is going to cut it,” Summer muttered. She put her arm around Tony’s waist and guided him over to the bed, sitting him down on the edge of it and kneeling to take off his shoes. “All right, under the covers.” Extra blankets were something she knew how to locate, and she softly heated a big fluffy coverlet that was nearly as big as she was, even folded. She spread it out over Tony, and stroked his shoulder.
gadgeteerphilanthropist:
iamthefirechild:
gadgeteerphilanthropist:
iamthefirechild:
“I’ll drag you,” she threatened. “You are not allowed to lie here on the floor when you’re sick.” She grabbed his wrists and started pulling.
“Been sick, for ages now,” he pointed out, somewhere between morose and irritable. He pulled his wrists away from her, because they weren’t going to get anywhere like this, and shifted to the side enough that he could reach up, grab the edge of the bar, and haul himself back upright.
“Fine, today you’re having a relapse. Get in the bed,” Summer commanded. She sighed, smiling a sideways smile, and shook her head. “Stubborn Tony.”
Tony made his way to the bedroom, but he had to stop half way there as another coughing fit took hold. He turned his head into the crook of his elbow, his other hand grasping out blindly until it landed on the back of a chair so he could keep his balance. He was far less amused with this situation than she was.
“I bet you don’t keep any meds around here at all, do you.” She put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to finish. “All right. Do you feel cold, or hot?”
gadgeteerphilanthropist:
iamthefirechild:
“I’ll drag you,” she threatened. “You are not allowed to lie here on the floor when you’re sick.” She grabbed his wrists and started pulling.
“Been sick, for ages now,” he pointed out, somewhere between morose and irritable. He pulled his wrists away from her, because they weren’t going to get anywhere like this, and shifted to the side enough that he could reach up, grab the edge of the bar, and haul himself back upright.
“Fine, today you’re having a relapse. Get in the bed,” Summer commanded. She sighed, smiling a sideways smile, and shook her head. “Stubborn Tony.”
gadgeteerphilanthropist:
iamthefirechild:
gadgeteerphilanthropist:
iamthefirechild:
“Should take that thing out,” she commented, going down the steps. “It’s just a reminder.” Circling the end of the bar, she knelt beside Tony. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”
Tony sunk further into his huddle, flailing the same hand at Summer, in a vague gesture that was probably supposed to tell her to keep it down. He mumbled something incoherently to his knees, with the words ‘feel like piss’ in there somewhere.
“Come on, up,” Summer said, trying to get an arm under his shoulders. “However you feel, I hardly think meeping about it here is going to help.”
Tony let his head fall back to rest on the bar, so he could settle her with a bleary look, followed by a most definitely unhappy but surprisingly decisive, “No. Not moving.”
“I’ll drag you,” she threatened. “You are not allowed to lie here on the floor when you’re sick.” She grabbed his wrists and started pulling.
gadgeteerphilanthropist:
iamthefirechild:
“Should take that thing out,” she commented, going down the steps. “It’s just a reminder.” Circling the end of the bar, she knelt beside Tony. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”
Tony sunk further into his huddle, flailing the same hand at Summer, in a vague gesture that was probably supposed to tell her to keep it down. He mumbled something incoherently to his knees, with the words ‘feel like piss’ in there somewhere.
“Come on, up,” Summer said, trying to get an arm under his shoulders. “However you feel, I hardly think meeping about it here is going to help.”
gadgeteerphilanthropist:
iamthefirechild:
gadgeteerphilanthropist:
“Ugh, god, Jarvis, lights. My head is killing me.” The lights dimmed, and Tony shifted somewhat from where he was hidden behind the bar on the ground.
-Sir—-
“Quietly, J—” He coughed harshly into his elbow for a long moment. “Keep it quiet, Jarvis.”
-Bad day, sir?-
“Heh. Very astute.”
“Tony, I’m b — Tony?” Summer stopped inside the door and blinked. “I thought he was here …” she muttered.
-Good evening, Miss Summer. Mr. Stark is at the bar.- Jarvis was far quieter than usual.
Tony flailed one hand at the nearest camera to flip the AI off. After all, when did he ever want anyone to see him like this?
“Should take that thing out,” she commented, going down the steps. “It’s just a reminder.” Circling the end of the bar, she knelt beside Tony. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”
gadgeteerphilanthropist:
“Ugh, god, Jarvis, lights. My head is killing me.” The lights dimmed, and Tony shifted somewhat from where he was hidden behind the bar on the ground.
-Sir—-
“Quietly, J—” He coughed harshly into his elbow for a long moment. “Keep it quiet, Jarvis.”
-Bad day, sir?-
“Heh. Very astute.”
“Tony, I’m b — Tony?” Summer stopped inside the door and blinked. “I thought he was here …” she muttered.
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