Work Text:
Tony was inexplicably nervous as he climbed the steps up to the Sanctum doors. He wiped his sweaty palms against his pants for the third time, pushed back his hair, and tried to summon a carefree smile. He got the distinct feeling that it wouldn’t work, not once those piercing blue eyes met his, which of course would cure the pit in his stomach almost instantly.
In his pocket, Tony’s phone sat dark and silent of any messages that mattered. Two days had passed since he’d last spoken to Stephen, last seen his face. Usually, this was normal. Stephen went off on secret missions to far away dimensions all the time, there really was no reason to worry about it now.
Except.
Except Stephen always told him when he was leaving and offered a rough, if inaccurate timeline for when he would return. If it was an emergency, Tony could rely on Wong to fill in the gap and explain why his lover had to leave with little to no notice again. The system was in place for both their sakes, to keep moments like this from happening, to keep the nightmares at bay and the sweaty palms, and nerves-
Tony took a deep breath. It was probably just an oversight or Stephen was too busy here at the Sanctum to respond to his text. Probably not a big deal, though he’d never admit that he had put on the housing unit for his Ironman suit with shaky hands that morning, remembering early days when he had first met Stephen in the midst of a global catastrophe.
Alright. Now he knew he was just being dramatic.
Raising his hand to knock on the door, Tony froze at it unexpectedly swung open of its own volition, revealing a dark interior. He paused, staring in as apprehension washed through him. The Sanctum was known for inviting guests in just as often as its master but something about this felt decidedly different. Carefully, Tony slipped inside, eyes darting around the cluttered and familiar space, searching for Stephen, Wong, anyone that might tell him what was going here.
Hand hovering over his chest, Tony moved slowly, not spotting any signs of a struggle or hearing any sound but his own two feet. He made his way toward the staircase, not certain exactly where he was going or if he actually intended to search the entire space, simply following his instinct and the rolling in his gut. The thought of calling out also made him hesitate, uncertain what kind attention it would attract.
Tony had just reached the top of the stair when movement from his peripheral had him swinging around, hand out and blaster warming in that direction. Heart beating wildly, Tony stared with wide-eyed relief at the Cloak of Levitation, that seemed to be glaring at him reproachfully. Letting out a heavy breath, Tony lowered the blaster, glaring at the fabric.
“Seriously? You realize Stephen would kill me if I blew you in half right? Maybe give a man some warning.”
The collar tilted up and its ends lifted and fell in an almost identical show of exasperation to that of its master. Tony was going to need to tell Stephen to quit teaching the Cloak to be so god damn sassy, two of them was more then enough.
Speaking of, “hey, Cloakie where is Stephen?”
Usually it hated both when Tony used that nickname and when he treated it like a loyal dog but today it didn’t react to either, which was enough to send his heart hammering again. No, this time the Cloak spun around and began drifting down the hall with enough urgency to make Tony follow at a sprint.
Tony wasn’t sure what he thought he would find at the end of the hallway. He had stumbled across Stephen passed out before, gaping wounds seemingly healing themselves, hell even a severed limb once while tracking down his lover. No number of lectures did any good and he was starting to worry that Stephen would manage to top himself each time.
As it was, the sight that met him actually rather sedate. He found Wong hovering over Stephen’s prone form in the four-poster bed, grumbling unrecognizable words but were no doubt condemnation on the sorcerer beneath him. Two books hovered in the air, flipping rapidly as the man scanned them, runes popping up here and there.
Stephen, for his part, was laying on top of the covers, stripped of his usual sorcerer garb. Instead it had been replaced with loose fitting pants and a white airy tunic, which only served to highlight how his skin was even paler than usual. Even from the door Tony could see that his skin glistened with sweat, the rosiness of his cheeks the only thing hinting at colour.
It was bad. But not terrible.
The fear slowly abated.
Tony knew when to become frantic. Recognized that signs; Wong’s silence, Wong’s grave face, the Cloaks clinginess, the air of dread filling the corners of the sick room. He had seen it too many times to count already and it never got any easier but this…this was manageable. A mistake obviously, a spell gone wrong or an injury left untreated. Fixable. Tony liked fixing things.
“Wong?”
The other sorcerer’s head snapped up, taking in Tony standing in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame a bit too tightly. There was a long moment of assessment between them before Wong sighed and motioned him forward. There was no greeting or easing into things simply a finger stabbed at the empty chair beside the bed and his deep rambling voice dumping information on him.
“Stephen is in the midst of a fever caused by an over usage of magic. He burned himself out at Kamar-Taj while aiding us against a threat. His body, instead of simply recharging like a normal person might, is burning up the magic in his system, wrongfully identifying it as a virus of some sort.”
Tony sat, eyes on Stephen’s flickering eyelids, reaching out to grip one of his still trembling hands. The Cloak hovered at the edge of bed, clearly wanting to encompass its master in it’s safety but unable to because of the fever. Tony almost hissed at the heat radiating from Stephen’s hand, eyes going to Wong, looking for an explanation.
The man waved away his concern, “he’ll be fine. You’ve come at just the right time in fact.” That didn’t sound good, especially when it came to Wong.
“Please tell me, whatever it is, it won’t hurt him?”
Wong shook his head, all business, “I need to shock his body. That, coupled with the runes and incantations I’ve been using for the past hour should be more then enough.”
Tony wanted to ask more questions. Wanted to know if this had been going on for the entire two days he hadn’t heard from Stephen. Wanted to strangle Wong for not calling him right away. Needed to berate Stephen for obviously not taking care of himself yet again. But the other sorcerer was already walking away, intent on whatever he was going to use to shock Stephen.
With the momentary privacy, Tony looked down at his lover with disapproving eyes. He lifted a hand to carefully brush back the hair plastered to his forehead, took in the sound of labored breathing. “One day,” he murmured. “You are going to give me a fucking heart attack.”
There was no response.
Tony sighed and leaned over until he could press a hard kiss to Stephen’s temple, holding there for several long moments while emotion weaved through him, until eventually it subsided and he could move away again without all his stress and anxiety pouring out.
“You’re lucky I love you,” Tony said finally.
“Alright, the ice bath is ready!” Wong called out confidently.
Blinking for a moment Tony let a grin spread over his lips as stood and looked down at Stephen’s unmoving form, “I know you’re going to be pissed but just think of this as payback for being such an idiot.”