Spiderson Oneshots

Ch 78 - Stark Expo Meet

“It’s a zoo out there—watch out.”

Tony’s head had been buzzing from the moment he walked off stage. Blood toxins and alcohol swarmed through his veins as if he had injected them straight through the flesh, sharp and cold like the pain never truly left. Each step he took—fluid yet calculated no matter the pace—melted down to the floor. He was no longer one with his body, no longer controlling his actions or thoughts. So, he put on a brave face and let his muscle memory roam free. No one would be able to tell any different.

He felt like a broken record player, stuttering out repetitive words and greetings from “hey, nice to see you” and “thank you” to every unfamiliar face. Even the faces that seemed vaguely familiar held a grayish blur that made his stomach turn inside out. Tony could flip a switch if he needed to. He could turn on the same typical façade and trudge through the mess of fans and photographers just so he could see the end. He would make it to the end; he always did.

When he caught sight of a shorter body in his peripherals, Tony’s normal lexicon of greetings was rearranged. It was instinctual—ruffling the kid’s hair, but a cold plastic Iron Man helmet met him in return.

And it was as if he knew exactly what he meant when he uttered, “see you, buddy.”

A few seconds later—or minutes, hours, days… it never seemed to matter—Tony could still feel Happy’s hand on his shoulder as they neared the exit doors. The panic he felt inside thickened against the walls of his chest while the crowd thinned.

Tony decided that he couldn’t stay another minute. He couldn’t see another damned face before making friends with the nearest porcelain throne he could find. Panic, nausea, or all of the above—he hadn’t felt like himself lately. The world didn’t need to see that.

He split off from Happy and the mess of the crowd like a bullet searing through skin. He felt like an open wound, still hot and fatal, refusing to heal. It was something he could only hide for so long. So, he shut himself off in a bathroom stall and evened his breathing as best as he could. The blinding lights in amongst the narrowing shoulders and hands reaching out for him had made him feel sick. He wished he could say that was the only thing making him feel this way.

As he gripped the toilet seat, he could still hear the shouts of strangers rushing out to find him. He was relieved to have a moment alone; he just hoped that Happy wasn’t seconds away from barging in to hear his emptying-stomach retches. The spasms jolting throughout Tony’s torso conjured up nothing but dry coughs and acid that had lined his throat. With one final spit, he flushed the toilet and made his way out to the sinks. Someone strange stared back at him in the mirror, someone he had known for forty-something years but now barely recognized.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, drying his hands off with a paper towel. “You’ve got a week left; what’re you gonna do?”

Tony exhaled slowly and kept his eyes locked on his reflection. With his lips pulled into a deep, offset frown, he couldn’t muster up enough energy to fake another smile. He was ashamed of himself. Disappointed that he couldn’t figure out the key to saving his life. Angry that it had to happen like this.

Had he really searched through every possible option? Had he really given up? Or was he wishing he had never tried at all?

Tony tossed the ball of crumpled paper towel into a nearby bin with vigor. He had made up his mind—he didn’t want to go home. Not yet.

He could hear Pepper’s voice in his head as he exited the bathroom and deflected from the mayhem. Your company needs you. This is all a waste of time. Do you even know what you’re doing?