Summary

Tony goes out for a drink and comes home with more than he bargained for.

Author Note

It's been a while… oops. I hope the wait was worth it, let me know what you think; enjoy.

One for the road

Chapter 2

The journey to the fundraiser was long and uneventful.

Tony spent the entire ride sulking and rambling to Happy dramatically about how unfair life was. He didn't want to go to the stupid party, he would much rather be in his lab tinkering with machinery then be forced to mingle with a group of arrogant strangers and wear a fake smile in front of the cameras all night.

Before Afghanistan he loved parties, his face was always plastered over the front page of the paper with a woman in one arm and a drink in his other hand, but not anymore. Despite what anyone else thought he wasn't the drunk playboy that he used to be, he'd changed. The events in New York had changed him for good and now that he had Pepper in his life he'd found some form of stability, and he was determined to hold onto it.

When they finally arrived Tony stepped out of his flashy sports car and was immediately blinded by the array of flash photography, he forced a smile; he was only showing his face to make Pepper happy. Hogan escorted him to the door as he dazzled the press with a few witty compliments and charming smiles, after Hogan excused himself to move the car around Stark predictably headed straight for the bar.

After just an hour his face was aching from all the smiling, it was so tedious and exhausting. The quick witted, dazzling and confident Tony Stark was just an act, an act to keep everyone from seeing what was really behind the mask. He only let his mask down in front of people he trusted, definitely not any of the media whores he was currently surrounded by. He forced himself not to flinch away from everyone who approached him with a friendly back slap or handshake, he didn't like to be touched; the sheer number of people giving him attention was starting to make him feel uncomfortable.

'Anthony, good to see you my man!'

Tony grimaced inwardly at the older gentleman with grey hair who approached him. Arthur Baldwin, a friend of his fathers. He grit his teeth at the other man's casual attitude, he'd only spoken with him a few times and Arthur treated him like they were old friends, it irritated him to no end.

'Arthur, you look younger every time I see you,' he joked, smiling forcefully.

'My, you are a charmer, I can see why all the ladies flock to you,' he chuckled, throwing an arm around Stark's shoulders he steered him towards an empty table. 'It's been a while since I last laid eyes on you, tell me how's business these days?'

'Things are good,' he nodded, his eyes drifted around the room, searching for an excuse to escape conversation, 'Thanks to my CEO things have been flourishing nicely.'

'Ah yes, Virginia isn't it? Tell me lad, what made you hand over the torch to a young lady like her?'

'I'm a busy man,' he shrugged, trying his best not to become irritated, he didn't have to justify his decisions to anybody.

'Ah yes of course, you're somewhat of a super hero now aren't you? I'm sure your father would be very proud.'

He gripped the now empty glass in his hand tightly; everything was always about his father.

He stood to his feet, fighting the urge to punch the man in face.

'If you'll excuse me, there are a few more faces I have to say hello too' he lied before briskly walking away. He snatched another glass of champagne from one of the waiters as he walked by, sighing in content as the cool liquid hit the back of his throat.

Thank god for alcohol.

After the battle of New York Stark had become a bit of a hermit, only leaving his lab when he really needed too, all he could think about as he tossed back another drink was that he should be working on his armor and right now, he was wasting precious time.

With every hand he shook he kept promising himself it would be just a few more minutes until he could think of a reasonable excuse to leave.

It wasn't until one of the female guests stumbled over to him drunk, batting her eyelashes at him that he decided it was definitely time to leave. Of course he only made it half way across the room before he was apprehended by a group of journalists.

'Mr Stark!'

It took every ounce of willpower in his body not to snap at the lady, once again he forced his best charming smile as he began answering there ridiculous questions, eyeing the door wistfully. Another drink was pushed into his hand and he took it gratefully, he took a small sip only to wince in distaste.

It was so bitter, Stark frowned at the glass before dumping it on the table behind him, it was probably cheap.

As the reporter droned on and scribbled notes into a large notebook Tony could feel his head starting to ache.

Perhaps the lighting was giving him a headache, or maybe it was the alcohol. He was sure he hadn't drunk enough to warrant a hangover, maybe he was turning into a lightweight? There was only one other explanation, he was finally getting old.

He groaned, no more late night parties for him.

He snorted internally; he'd done enough ass kissing for one night anyway, he'd finally found his excuse to leave.

The mechanic quickly excused himself before searching for his driver through the large sea of well-dressed people.

It took much longer than he'd hope to find Happy; by the time he'd finally tracked him down his headache had turned into a full blown migraine.

'C'mon Happy, let's go,' he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

'I'm surprised you lasted this long boss,' Hogan teased, opening the passenger door.

When Stark stepped into the sports car he laid back and leaned his head against the window, sighing in content at the feeling of the cold glass pressed against his forehead, he felt like shit.

'You don't look so hot boss,' Happy commented, before switching his gaze to the road.

Hogan's voice seemed to echo loudly in his ear drums, making his head throb unpleasantly.

He chose not to answer his driver, Hogan seemed to take the hint and the rest of the journey continued in blissful silence. After what felt like an eternity had passed, they finally arrived back at the tower.

Tony stepped out of the car on shaky feet, resting most of his weight on the car door as he pushed himself upright.

'Need a hand Boss?'

Stark waved him off for the sake of pride, before slowly shuffling towards his private elevator. He winced at the nauseous feeling creeping through his stomach, maybe a night cap was what he needed to help him settle?

'Night Hogan,' he mumbled as he stepped into his private elevator, wincing when Jarvis's voice penetrated the silence.

'Welcome home sir.'

'Tone it down would ya J? Daddy had a real good headache,' he muttered, closing his eyes.

'My apologies sir, should I ask Dummy to prepare some painkillers to relieve your discomfort?'

The playboy clumsily loosened the tie around his neck to allow him to breathe easier, when had it got so hot?

'Just turn the temperature down,' he sighed, 'it's like an oven in here.'

'Very well sir.'

The doors clicked open and Tony stumbled out onto the plush carpet as he headed towards the sitting room, he put on a smirk when he noticed all eyes were resting on him; time to put on the mask.

'Honey I'm home!'

The team tore their eyes away from the movie they were watching to see Tony Stark stagger into the room. He wobbled towards the couch unsteadily until he collapsed into a nearby armchair. A smile broke out across his face when his eyes landed on Bruce.

'Bruceyyyy baby! Did you miss me?'

'It's only 11 you know, are you losing your touch old man?' Barton teased, shoveling another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

'Jesus Stark how many drinks did you have?' Steve frowned disapprovingly.

'Not nearly enough,' he slurred, wincing at the sound of his own voice; that definitely didn't sound right…

'Oh my god…' Bruce ducked his head in embarrassment for his friend.

Clint whistled.

'You're gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning.'

'I'm Tony Shh'rk, I d'nt get hangoversh' he muttered inaudibly, groaning he nuzzled himself deeper into the sofa. Suddenly he found himself to be extremely tired; maybe he needed an early night.

'You brought this on yourself,' Romanoff sighed unsympathetically, turning her attention back towards the television screen. 'Imagine what Pepper would say if she saw you like that.'

Tony didn't answer; instead he closed his eyes and took deep breaths too hold back the sickness he felt suddenly creeping up his throat.

He hadn't felt this bad in years, was this really what it felt like to be old?

'Ohhh I think I'm dying,' he rasped, crossing his arms over his delicate eyes to shield them from the light of the television screen.

'I can't believe you got drunk Stark, what if we get called out for a mission? The super soldier scolded. 'It's irresponsible, you should know better.'

'S-Stop talking,' the mechanic whined, stuttering his words.

Bruce stood to his feet with a sigh and made his way over to Tony's dozing form, he wouldn't do himself any good if he fell asleep on the couch, he knew that from experience. His gaze swept over the rest of the team, who hadn't moved a muscle. It looked like he would be the only one helping the mechanic get to bed. The doctor mentally scolded himself, when had he become such a mother hen?

'Tony you can't sleep there,' he shook the billionaires shoulder, urging him to get up.

'Leave him be doc,' the archer mumbled slurping at a can of fizzy pop. 'He's totally wasted.'

'Let me sleeeep,' Stark whined childishly, he was trying to shift himself into a more comfortable position but his poor co-ordination wouldn't allow it, he slumped back down groggily, tired and defeated.

'My head hurts,' he winced, trying to bury his flushed face deeper in to the arm of the couch. The way he slurred his words made Bruce frown, just how intoxicated was he?

'Come on, Bed; let's go!' the physicist patted his lab partner on the arm, Tony tried to swat his hand away but his arm barley moved, he felt heavily and sluggish, like he was being tied down.

'Bruce, I had no idea you felt that way…' he mumbled teasingly, a small smile ghosted across his face.

'Jarvis turn the lights up please?' Banner asked the AI.

When the lights brightened considerably Stark yelped and covered his eyes, cursing as the brightness assaulting his vision made his head throb even more; he let out a groan of discomfort. Everyone was probably staring at him now, he felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

'Tony how much did you have drink?'

He blinked at Bruce's blurred form hovering above his head as he squinted through half closed eyes. He could see the other man's mouth moving but he couldn't register what he was saying. It was like someone had submerged his head in a bowl of water, he could only make out every other word.

'Leave him be Bruce,' Romanov called uncaringly from her spot across the room, 'he did this to himself.'

Tony winced when he felt a bead of sweat drip down the back of his neck; didn't he ask Jarvis to turn down the temperature?

He flapped his arms around lazily in a dismal attempt to remove his jacket but his arms remained stuck in the sleeves

The scientist stared down at his friend in his dazed state, he looked flushed. He pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, wincing at the heat radiating from him.

The physicist knelt down next to his lab partner and pressed two fingers against the pulse of his neck. His pulse was heavy and fast, not an uncommon side effect from drinking alcohol.

'Tony, how much have you had to drink?' he asked slowly and clearly, this time Tony could make out his words.

The billionaire squinted at him for a short moment in thought before answering.

'I don't know,' he paused, frowning in thought. 'three glasses,' he murmured, his eyes fluttered shut tiredly.

'Three bottles more like,' Clint snorted, 'piss head.'

'God, what were you drinking, de-icer?' Bruce teased, trying to get a reaction from the man in his comatose state; he needed him to be more coherent.

'Cheap Champagne,' Stark garbled, pulling a face, 'didn't wan-wanna stay,' he panted, 'too many a-assholes,' he babbled.

'Need some help?' Steve appeared beside him, his brows furrowed in concern when he noticed that sweat on the billionaire's brow, it wasn't hot enough in the room to warrant sweating to that extent.

'Help me get his jacket off.'

The two pulled Tony upright into a sitting position, ignoring his whining protests, he slumped forward in his seat, flapping his arms around lazily in a dismal, stubborn attempt to remove his jacket without Steve's help but failed miserably.

His arms felt heavy and his actions uncoordinated, like his limbs belonged to someone else.

'Stay still,' Steve ordered as he carefully slid the man's jackets out from under his arms.

Even with his jacket now gone tony still felt unbearably hot.

'C'mon, he's just drunk right? He'll sleep it off; I mean how bad can it be' Clint shrugged casually, his attention was no longer focused on the movie, he looked more alert.

'I'll get a glass of water,' Romanov sighed, standing to her feet. 'He's probably needs it.'

Bruce ignored everyone around his and studied the genius carefully.

Although all the signs pointed to a simple hangover he wasn't sure that's what was wrong with the billionaire. Despite Tony's reputation to party, the doctor had been living at the tower long enough by now to know that he could hold his drink more then most people. He rarely had more than a few glasses, especially now Pepper was keeping a close eye on him.

The scientist tapped him gently on the cheek to gain the dozing mechanics attention, Stark's eyes fluttered open wearily but they were glazed and unfocused. He was obviously completely out of it.

'Jarvis, what's Tony's temperature?'

'According to my readings Sir's temperature is approximately 40 degrees Celsius.'

'Well that doesn't sound good,' Bruce frowned.

'Maybe he's just sick?' Steve suggested.

'I have altered the central heating to accommodate sir's temperature change,' the AI's voice echoed through the speakers in the ceiling.

'Jarvis has Tony complained of any sickness in the past few days?' the doctor asked.

'Sir has not mentioned any symptoms of illness, however he did show symptoms of a severe migraine when he returned this evening.'

By now Tony wasn't listening to anything going on around him. He could hear people talking and feel cool hands touching him but his mind wasn't in sync, he felt so tired. The only thing he could think about was how hot he was.

Despite not having his jacket on he could feel his dress shirt sticking to him like a second skin. He repressed the urge to shudder when a bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, he felt so uncomfortable.

'Tony?'

Tony could hear Bruce calling his name but the heat along with the pounding in his head made it almost impossible to concentrate. Suddenly a hand tapped him on the shoulder; he turned his head wearily to see Natasha holding a glass in his eye line.

'Drink it.'

It took a painfully long time for his brain to comprehend what he was seeing. After staring at it for a moment he reached out shakily and took the glass from her grasp, he raised it to his lips shakily and took a small sip before Romanoff took the glass from him.

'You should finish the whole glass,' she frowned, disapprovingly.

'Nooooo,' he whined, shaking his head childishly.

'Maybe next time you should lay off the booze old man,' Clint sighed.

'F-uck Y-ou,' he wheezed.

'We should probably get him to bed,' the super soldier stepped forward; ready to hoist the billionaire to his feet.

'Your right,' Bruce rubbed his eyes tiredly before pocketing his glasses.

'Okay buddy, let's get you somewhere more comfortable.'

The doctor took one of Tony's arms over his shoulder, whilst Steve took the other.

The pair pulled him to him feet, stumbling slightly, Tony groaned as the movement made him dizzy.

'Need any help?' Natasha asked, looking slightly lost standing beside Clint.

'We've got it covered,' Steve assured them.

The three men ambled towards the elevator, leaving the two ninja assassins to their own devices.

'Take us to Tony's room please Jarvis.'

'Sir's private elevator requires a security code for entrance, but due to current circumstances I will over-ride security protocols.'

Bruce winced as they stepped into Tony's private elevator, although Steve was taking most of Tony's weight he still weighed heavily against his shoulder. He groaned internally, if only Thor was around.

The elevator doors opened and the pair stumbled into the mechanics room.

In his mind Tony was kicking and screaming, he didn't want to be carried. He was iron man, one of earth's mightiest heroes; if he wasn't feeling so ill quite frankly he'd be embarrassed but right now he felt so awful he was beyond caring, he just wanted to go to sleep and stop feeling so terrible.

Everything was a struggle, his vision was blurry and his legs weren't co-operating and god he felt short of breath. He always felt short of breath, it was one of the annoying setbacks of having half your sternum removed and an arc reactor lodged in your chest. But he felt more breathless than usual, he was wheezing as if he'd just ran a marathon. His thoughts were interrupted when his stomach began to turn somersaults.

'Bathroom,' Tony wheezed, Steve didn't like the sickly paleness to his face. He guided him into his en-suite without hesitation, and was glad that he did when the billionaire instantly went straight to the toilet and began heaving.

'Looks like painkillers are out of the question,' Banner winced at the noise coming from the bathroom.

Steve made sure Tony was steady enough to hold himself before giving him some privacy. He looked at Bruce sheepishly from the doorway.

'Must have been one hell of a party.'

Despite how awful he was feeling Tony wanted to laugh at Steve's words but he couldn't afford to laugh, not when he desperately needed the oxygen.

Tony was panting heavily, hunched over the basin wincing in pain as he wheezed desperately trying to take in deep lungful's of air. Every breath he took felt like a kick to the check as the reactor jolted his lungs, he could feel himself becoming light headed, he was fighting a losing battle.

The mechanic was so out of it that he didn't notice when Steve peered his head around the door.

'Tony?'

Tony didn't answer, he couldn't because he was too busy panicking.

'Doctor Banner something's wrong.'

Suddenly the genius could hear his own heart beat in his ears, why on earth did he feel so bad? He pushed aside his panic for a short second and tried to think. He'd finished maintenance of the arc reactor little over a week ago so it couldn't be that. But if it wasn't the reactor then what was it?

'Tony talk to me, tell me what's wrong.'

He ignored the worried voices in his ear; he was too busy struggling to breath. He could feel his heart racing faster and faster but there was nothing he could do about it, he wasn't in control of his body and that made him terrified, he cursed internally.

Fuck.

He could feel someone pulling him to his feet, as he stood his vision wavered and the room spun dangerously, before he could give any word of warning he could feel his legs giving way beneath him.

His throat felt constricted, he tried to make a noise but all he managed was a garbled groan and a gasp before a dull pain swept through his body and he felt himself engulfed in darkness.