Howard Stark Is A Terrible Parent - Tumblr Posts
Whumptober day 3 - Delirium
My third fill for @whumptober2019, also available on Ao3.
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There were honestly a lot of reasons Tony didn’t like board meetings. To start with, they were either incredibly boring or, if they weren’t, they tended to be incredibly frustrating. Not to mention they brought back plenty of unpleasant memories having to do with either Howard or Stane, as well as unpleasant memories of the way previous members of the board had treated him when he was younger.
Right now, though, one of the reasons he disliked board meetings the most was the fact that it meant interacting with people, which meant catching their illnesses.
Which was why he was currently hiding away from the other Avengers and feeling increasingly terrible.
Being ill had always been a bit of an issue for him, especially since both of his parents had made it fairly obvious that they did not appreciate him being more of an inconvenience than he already was. Jarvis, in contrast, had always been more than considerate.
As a result, he tended to isolate himself from most people when feeling unwell. On the other hand, he had a tendency of being very clingy and affectionate with the ones he did trust.
Tony whimpered, trying to find a way to lie down that did not somehow hurt. Fever always made his skin more sensitive than usual, and even his expensive sheets felt like sandpaper at the moment. Wet, uncomfortable sandpaper that was either too hot or too cold. He just wanted it to be over already, to be able to think properly again and to be able to get up without getting so dizzy he had to lie down again immediately.
“I have sent DUM-E up with something for you to drink, Sir,” JARVIS informed him. “If you do not ingest some liquids within the next half an hour, I will be forced to call for assistance.”
Another whimper escaped him, and he could feel the way his thoughts were slipping. He found himself simultaneously wishing that someone would be there to help, to make him feel better, and wishing to be left utterly alone in his misery because he’d just be a burden to everyone else.
He sobbed softly, turning around yet again in hopes this position would be marginally more comfortable. It didn’t work, unfortunately.
Soft beeping from the doorway alerted him to DUM-E - no matter what else, he’d always know that sound, and he managed to bring up a trembling smile as the bot approached far more slowly than he usually would. In his claw, he was carefully holding a bottle of water with a straw in it, for easier drinking.
“I can’t,” he found himself sobbing - it was too much, too hot, too cold, too painful. He couldn’t bring himself to even hold up his arm to grab the bottle, and the thought alone of trying to drink made him nauseous.
DUM-E’s soft beeping became a little more insistent, and he tried to lift his hand to grab the bottle, only to miss. Later, he could only be grateful that DUM-E was still holding it, meaning he only spilled a little of it, but it was enough. The cold water hitting his face hurt, and suddenly he was back in Afghanistan, face wet and hurting all over and feeling trapped.
There were voices - one, at first, and then more of them, but he couldn’t tell what they were saying. The words sounded foreign, unfamiliar, and he gritted his teeth in order not to whimper. “No,” he insisted, trying to sound so much stronger than he felt. “No.”
But there were hands on his arms, holding him down, and he cried out. He couldn’t… He couldn’t. He’d barely survived the first time, he couldn’t do this again, please.
Everything hurt, and he was stuck right back in one of his worst nightmares.
Cold hit him, and he whimpered with pain. It was good, because he was burning, but it hurt, and he had no idea what was going on and he wanted all of it to stop. And then, blissfully, slowly, he started sinking away, the fear and the pain and the heat and the cold slowly backing up until there was only peaceful darkness.
The last thing he heard was a soft “we’ll take care of you, Tony.”