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“Kaboom!” Peter shouts after punching Tony hard into the ribs. “You didn´t see that coming, Mr Stark, did you?”
As a matter of fact, Tony didn´t, and that is part of the problem. The aura that has been obstructing his field of vision since the morning has spread to conceal most of what´s on his left in a white haze, and Peter´s fist has caught him completely off guard. Tony groans tiredly, resisting the urge to cover his aching eyes with a boxing glove.
“Could you stop accompanying each of your actions with graphic comic book expressions, that would be marvellous.” he spits into the kid´s direction.
Peter frowns at him. “Mr Stark, are you al-” but Tony silences him with an unexpected right hook that leaves both of them reeling.
He´d worked on his repulsor upgrades till three in the morning after sending the kid off to bed in the upstate Avengers facility where they are spending the weekend. Then he´d fallen asleep at his work bench just to wake up four hours later to a stiff neck and a pounding headache.
He´d skipped breakfast in favour of a hot shower and a bunch of painkillers that did nothing except making his stomach churn angrily. He knows exaclty that the only wise thing to do would be spending the day in bed, but he´d promised Peter a round of sparring before returning him to his aunt, and Tony Stark would not let something as petty as a migraine stop him from that.
Right now, however, he isn´t so sure how long he can keep up appearances before the kid will notice. Aura and a general feeling of lightheadedness are making his steps unstable and causing him to miss more punches than he lands.
The pain behind his eyes is already blinding, and he knows that the migraine is only in its beginning stages. He wishes that it will wait with kicking in full force until the kid is back at his aunt´s and he is back at his tower, but he doubts the universe will answer his prayers.
Another of Peter´s punches hits him in the stomach, making him bend reflexively, and for a frightening moment he is fighting to keep down the nausea that´s suddenly threatening to take over. God, he shouldn´t have taught the kid so well. When he straightens up, the world is spinning around him. Tony is stubborn, but not stupid. He knows when to make an exit.
“Happy, you take over”, he commands the bodyguard who had been watching their fight stoically, “I need a coffee.”
Tony is proud that he manages to climb out of the ring without toppling over, but the thought of getting to the kitchen is quickly dismissed when the gym starts swaying around him. He all but collapses onto the bench at the side of the room. Sparing a look at the Peter, he decides that the kid is too preoccupied with beating up Happy to notice, so he rests his head in his trembling hands, blocking out the burning lights.
A few hours, he tells himself, just a few hours and then he can shut himself off from the world in his bathroom and die alone. That is, until Pepper will expect him for their date night at six. He groans. Life was so easy back when all his personal commitments seemed to consist of training Dum-E and making a monthly donation to the boy scouts. But then again, whom is he kidding? He wouldn´t go back to that kind of life for anything in the world.
As if on clue, a hand lands on his shoulder. “Mr Stark, are you okay?”, Peter gasps, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear, apparently having won the recent episode with Happy. Tony squints up at him, the light from the artificial bulbs making his synapses protest in pain.
“I´m good, kid. Jeez, you smell like a soccer team´s been trapped in a sauna for a year.” He wrinkles his nose in feigned disgust. “Go, take a shower and make yourself presentable. I promised your super-hot aunt to drop you off by noon.”
“Hey, don´t talk about her like this!” Peter boxes him playfully into the shoulder, and Tony tries not to flinch. “And I beat you today, old man!” he shouts over his shoulder before running off to the changing area.
“I let you beat me”, Tony mumbles back. He takes a deep breath before straightening up and and grabbing the wall for support until the dizziness fades away. That´s gonna be a long day.
—-
Tony gets into the driver´s seat before Happy even has a chance to. He hopes that driving will give him an excuse not to talk, and he also knows that he will make the way from upstate New York to Peter´s house twice as fast as Happy. And, deep inside, he is absolutely aware that the true reason is simply his never-ending ambition to prove himself that he is stronger than a little bit of pain. It’s just a migraine, after all. He’s had them before, he´s survived all fine, and worse things have happened to him anyways.
Tony is wearing sunglasses although the sky is clouded, but the light still hurts in his eyes, as does about everything in his body right now. Happy dozes off after a few minutes. In the backseat, Peter starts to watch videos on his phone, a comedian talking too loud and too fast. Tony might find it amusing on any other day, but right now the artificial laughter from the audience feels like a hammer being smashed on his head.
“Pete, can you switch off that nonsense?” he demands, trying not to let his voice tremble.
The boy just gives him a look and plugs in headphones. He is uncharacteristically quiet for some time, until he finally asks, “Mr Stark, are you angry at me because of the boxing?”
“What?” Tony is so caught by surprise that he nearly drifts to the other side of the road. “God, what are you thinking, kid?”, he huffs, “I get it I´m kinda a show-off, but I wouldn´t get angry at you just because you land a few hits on a day I got a killer migrai-”
Shit, he wasn´t supposed to say that.
“You´ve got a migraine?” Peter bends closer to the front seat, immediately lowering his voice. “That´s why you were so out of it all day! Is it really bad? Why didn´t you say anything?”
“It´s okay, kid, not a big deal. Happens sometimes.” Tony reassures, trying to smile while swallowing down nausea.
Peter stares at him intensively. “I´m - I´m so sorry, Mr Stark, I didn´t know. Is there anything I can do?”
“Na, I´m good. Just don´t be mad if I´m not up to fancy conversations today. And keep the volume down.”
Ten minutes later, Tony is sure that driving with a migraine was one of the worst ideas he´s ever had. He´s put the sunblinds down although it rains outside, but he still finds it hard to spot the outline of the road through the haze of pain and aura clouding his eyes. Every heartbeat reverberates like thunder in his ears. His whole body is oversensitive, the bumps in the pavement making him feel like he´s back in the boxing ring taking a beating and doing nothing to calm his rising nausea. God, he didn´t even know it was possible to get carsick while driving.
The stretch of road ahead of them is typically Sunday-morning quiet, until suddenly it isn´t anymore. The car seems to come out of nowhere, and all Tony can do is pull sharply to the emergency lane while the other vehicle´s side mirror rubs over their door with a screeching noise.
“What the hell was that?” Happy half-shouts at him, now wide-awake, “You nearly hit them!”
Tony doesn´t reply, he is busy bringing the car to a standstill with trembling hands. He can feel himself hyperventilating, pain from the migraine mixing with a surge of anxiety when he realizes that he barely avoided an accident. He nearly got Happy and the kid killed. Fuck. The nausea hits him full force, and he all but falls out of the door, bracing himself against the side of the car when he heaves. There´s not much to bring up, considering that he avoided breakfast today, but the stench of liquid and bile splashing on the ground assault his nerves and dials up the pain a few more degrees.
“Just let it out, okay?” The kid has jumped out behind him, hovering at his side. He tries to pat his shoulder, but Tony flinches away. Everything hurts. Holes are being drilled into his skull, but they do nothing to relieve the pressure. Instead it is just increasing with every retch, until he is sure that his head will burst open any moment. He can’t see anymore, and he catches himself wishing he would pass out, just to make the pain stop.
When he is done he keeps on panting, not daring to move and cause the nausea to spike up again. For a moment he doesn´t know where he is, dark memories and panic pulling at him with luring fingers. He desperately tries to get himself under control. A hand tugs at his jacket, hesitantly. Someone comes from the other side and pulls him up. Tony´s overly sensible nose recognizes Happy´s aftershave and he nearly gags again.
When his vision clears, Peter and Happy have deposited him in the backseat. “I´m driving now”, the bodyguard states the obvious. Tony is miles from protesting.
—-
The rest of the drive is agony. The nausea returns about two seconds after he’s back in the car, but he vows to keep it down until the kid is gone. Tony leans his the head against his elbow in a crook of the window. He can feel Peter giving him worried looks from the side, but there’s nothing he can do about it right now. Pain is tearing him apart from inside, eating his brain and spitting it out all upside down and scrambled up. He tries to distract himself with citing equations, but he can’t remember a single one. For a moment, he´s irrationally afraid that he will never be able to.
It seems to take eternities until they reach Peter´s appartment building to drop him off. Tony gives him a tired thumbs-up and a very weak fake smile from under half-closed lids. “See you tomorrow”, he croaks, swallowing heavily and hoping that he is not overconfident of his abilitiy to recover until then.
Happy stops at the sidewalk as soon as they are out of Peter´s view, and Tony heaves up air and acid for what seems like years. He can´t muster the energy to stop his former bodyguard when he hears him calling Pepper from his mobile.
When they finally reach the tower, she is waiting downstairs. He hadn’t wanted her to know, god, he’d planned on throwing down the heaviest painkillers he can find together with a good amount of booze, getting a few hours of sleep and then showing up halfway presentable to make it through their date night. He didn’t want to ruin it, again. But when her blurred form gets bigger through his squinting eyes, he’s just incredibly glad to see her.
“Oh, Tony”, she whispers when he stumbles out of the car and into her.
“Come on, I expected a little more enthusiastic reaction. I’m still a very handsome guy who’s come all the way to meet you.” he musters, trying not to slur.
"You look terrible”, she replies, cool fingers wrapping around is aching neck and pulling it forward till his head rests in the blessedly dark curve above her collarbone. “And you smell like a sewer.”
Tony doesn´t care. Pepper smells like home, which is finally something that doesn’t make him more nauseous, and he decides that he never wants to move again. He holds her as tight as he can without breaking her. After a while, Pepper carefully leads him inside, taking on more of his weight than he’d like to admit. He allows himself a small moan when she bends to hit the elevator button and his balance is screwed up.
“Sorry for this,” he manages when they reach the bedroom.
“It´s okay, Tony. I´d rather have you here than somewhere in outer space fighting aliens”, she grins, gently lowering him onto the mattress.
Tony is sure he´d prefer any amount of aliens to the agony he is currently in, but he doesn´t say it out aloud. Instead, he shakily removes his pants and jacket while Pepper fetches a glass of water and deposits a trash can next to the bed. He crawls under the sheets and pulls the blanket over his head before she quietly slips in next to him.
“Jus´a few hours,” he mumbles as he curls up against the familiar warmth of her body. “Date night´s still on, gotta movie planned, you can look forward to it.”
“Yeah, of course, Iron Man”, she smirks with a hint of sarcasm. But her voice is all soft when she adds, “I always do.”