Chapter Text
The Avengers were scattered through the common room, half-focused; the usual pre-briefing energy hanging in the air.
Tony sat at the island beside Bruce, elbow braced against the counter as he pretended to scroll through something on his tablet.
The dull ache in his chest had been there all morning.
He’d ignored it.
Mostly.
“Alright, team,” Steve started, voice cutting cleanly through the room.
Tony glanced up, dragging his attention away from the slow, grinding pressure behind his ribs.
“I reviewed the coordinates Fury sent. Hydra base in southern Sokovia. If we don’t take it out before phase two, we’re looking at escalation.”
Clint groaned from his chair, dragging a hand down his face.
“Why is it always Hydra?” he muttered. “You’d think after the fourth time we tore through one of their bases, they’d take the hint.”
Bruce squinted up at Steve. “We doing an overnight again? Because if we are, I’m bringing my own coffee this time. I’m not fighting caffeine-deprived again. That was a war crime.”
Tony huffed out a quiet laugh,
and immediately regretted it.
A sharp pressure flared in his chest, like something catching wrong beneath his ribs.
He shifted slightly, subtly, in a hopefully controlled manner.
“Yeah,” he muttered, voice a little tighter than usual, “we’ll add that to the packing list. Tactical espresso.”
Natasha’s gaze flicked to him, Not missing the shift.
She didn’t say anything.
“Approach?” she asked instead, eyes already back on Steve.
Steve nodded. “Two teams. East and west entry. Natasha, Clint, Thor; east. Tony, Bruce, and I; west.”
Thor lit up instantly, slamming a hand onto the table hard enough to rattle it.
“A glorious battle awaits!” he boomed. “I shall-”
Tony flinched
not from Thor’s voice
but from the way the vibration traveled straight through the counter and into his chest.
God, that-
He sucked in a slow breath, carefully shallow.
Don’t react.
Don’t.
He glanced sideways.
Bruce was already looking at him.
Not obvious.
Not pushing.
Just… watching.
Tony rolled one shoulder in a half-shrug, like yeah, I know, don’t start.
Bruce’s brow furrowed slightly.
Didn’t call it out.
Steve kept talking.
Tony tried to listen.
He really did.
But the words started slipping; blurring at the edges as the pressure in his chest sharpened, each breath dragging against something that didn’t give.
Okay.
That’s new.
He coughed once into his fist,
and bit down hard on the sound that wanted to follow.
That definitely wasn’t normal.
“Tony?”
He waved vaguely without looking up. “Listening.”
He wasn’t.
Not anymore.
Every breath felt wrong now; too tight, too shallow, like his lungs were working around something they shouldn’t have to.
He shifted again, more abruptly this time.
No one said anything.
But he could feel it.
Natasha watching.
Bruce definitely watching.
Steve pausing, just slightly.
Nope.
We’re not doing this here.
Tony pushed off the counter.
“Gonna check something in the lab,” he said, already moving. “Try not to start the apocalypse without me.”
Steve frowned. “Tony, we’re in the middle of-”
“Yeah,” Tony cut in easily, already halfway to the door. “And I trust you to land the plane, Cap. You’ve got this.”
He didn’t wait for a response.
Just walked.
Fast enough to be efficient.
Not fast enough to look like he was escaping.
The second the lab doors shut behind him, Tony dropped the act.
His hand braced hard against the workbench as he sucked in a sharp breath, and immediately regretted it.
“Jesus-”
That hurt.
That really hurt.
“JARVIS,” he snapped, voice tighter now, “lock the lab. No interruptions.”
“Of course, sir.”
Tony leaned harder against the table, head dipping as he tried to breathe around the pressure; slow, controlled, not too deep...
Did it always feel this sharp?
No.
No, it didn’t.
That was the problem.
He pushed himself upright after a moment, stubborn more than steady, and made his way to the chair near the console.
Sat.
Harder than intended.
“Alright,” he muttered under his breath, already pulling up diagnostics. “We’re fine. Everything’s fine. Probably just an alignment issue. Minor. Easy fix.”
Because it had to be.
Anything else was-
No.
Not going there.
The screen flickered to life.
Tony leaned in, fingers already moving.
...and didn’t notice the lab door slide open behind him.
“Tony.”
He froze.
Just for a second.
Then straightened slightly, not turning around.
“Wow,” he said dryly, “either JARVIS is developing selective hearing, or you’ve started picking locks as a hobby.”
Bruce didn’t rise to it.
“JAR deemed it a medical emergency.”
“Traitor,” Tony muttered.
Bruce stepped closer, gaze already scanning him; posture, breathing, the way Tony was holding himself just slightly too still.
“You left the meeting,” he said.
“Congratulations,” Tony replied, finally turning with a faint smirk. “You’ve mastered observation.”
“You’re in pain.”
“Also observant.”
Bruce didn’t smile.
Tony’s smirk faltered for half a second.
then a smile snapped back into place.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Reactor’s being dramatic. I’ll fix it.”
Bruce folded his arms. “Tony.”
“Bruce.”
A beat.
Tony sighed, like Bruce was being mildly inconvenient instead of… this.
“Fine,” he said, waving a hand toward the console. “Run your tests. But if you say the word ‘rest,’ I’m revoking your lab privileges.”
Bruce stepped in anyway.
Started the diagnostics without another word.
That was the thing about Bruce.
He didn’t push loud.
He just… didn’t stop.
Tony leaned back slightly, letting him work, fingers tapping restlessly against the arm of the chair.
“Y’know,” Tony started after a moment, too casual, “if this whole saving-the-world thing falls through, we could pivot.”
Bruce didn’t look up. “Pivot.”
“Yeah. Comedy duo. ‘Genius and Slightly Larger Genius.’ We’d sell out.”
Bruce huffed quietly. “You’d get us banned in most countries.”
“Only the boring ones.”
Bruce shook his head slightly, but Tony caught the edge of a smile.
Good.
Distraction working.
Keep it light.
Keep it-
Bruce’s expression shifted.
Subtle.
But enough.
Tony’s fingers stilled.
“…What.”
Bruce didn’t answer immediately.
Which was worse.
“Tony,” he said finally, voice quieter now, “everything around the reactor is inflamed.”
Tony’s jaw tightened.
“Define ‘everything.’”
“Muscle tissue. Surrounding structures. Your lungs are working against it, not with it.”
Tony swallowed.
Didn’t let it show.
“That sounds… mildly inconvenient.”
Bruce looked at him then.
Really looked.
“It’s not,” he said.
Tony held his gaze for a second,
then looked away first.
“Cool,” he said lightly. “Love that for me.”
“You need to slow down.”
“No.”
It came out automatic.
Immediate.
Bruce didn’t react to the answer.
Just nodded slightly, like he expected it.
“Then you need to at least manage it,” he said. “Electrolytes. Rest. No constriction-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waved him off, already pushing himself to stand. “Hydrate, sleep, don’t die. I’ve seen the pamphlet.”
He took a step,
and paused, just barely, when the pressure in his chest spiked again.
Bruce saw it.
Of course he did.
Tony straightened immediately.
“I’m fine,” he said.
Bruce didn’t argue.
Which, somehow, was worse than if he had.
“I’ll keep an eye on you,” he said instead.
Tony huffed. “Please don’t.”
Bruce almost smiled.