Work Text:
Nonagenarian
“Ducky? Are you ok?” Tony rushed over to where Ducky lay on the floor of autopsy, worried. “Do I need to call 911?”
Ever since he'd found out that Ducky held the title of a nonagenarian, Tony worried that he would fall and hurt himself. Finding Ducky on the floor of autopsy was especially worrying.
“Don't be silly, dear boy. I'm perfectly fine.” Ducky moved to get up. He'd been admiring the ceiling, but his muscles weren't cooperating now. “On second thought some help wouldn't go awry.”
Tony moved over to Ducky and helped him sit up. “What happened?”
“I was simply admiring the ceiling.” Ducky pointed to the new addition.
“Abby got to you, too, huh?”
“It's an intriguing work of art for the ceiling.” Ducky mused.
“Will you be ok now?”
“Of course. I simply need to be more careful when lying on the floor.’
Tony nodded, though, he couldn't help worrying about the 90 year old man who frequently tried to do more than his body was capable of.
