Summary: Stephen becomes very sick after a date with Tony and Wong discovers that he was poisoned. Wong confronts Tony.
Daycare Fever (ao3) - professional_benaddict, Teddy1008
M, 2k
Summary: It was playtime at daycare, which is the best time. Only downside was that Peter was feeling sick, really sick. Luckily, Daddy Tony comes to pick him up and bring him to Daddy Stephen for a check up.
Don't Say It (ao3) - InkDippedFingertips
G, 1k
Summary: Stephen is sick and Tony is exasperated.
Hunny Bunnies and Tissue (ao3) - olliebrobeck
G, 1k
Summary: "Oh, hunny-bunny, what's wrong?"
Or
Stephen is a pouting, feverish mess after a mission to another dimension, and craves care from his boyfriend.
I Think He Knows (ao3) - twenty3
T, 7k
Summary: “You’re going to be fine,” he repeated. “But I need to give you something that’s going to make you even sicker. Your body needs to purge the spores, so you’re going to get sick to your stomach. A lot. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, but I swear to you, it’s going to get better. Do you understand?”
All Tony really understood was he was sick, and Stephen was going to help him.
He didn’t really need to know anything else.
“I trust you,” Tony replied.
Tony gets sick after a mission. Stephen takes care of him. Rhodey notices a few things.
Lucky (ao3) - escapemyshadow
N/R, 1k
Summary: It have been such a long time since they have been out for a date.
Stephen would not let his sickness be the obstacle and Tony was doing his best to make Stephen feels better.
Of Rescues and Rashes (ao3) - Codee21
T, 2k
Summary: When Tony Stark-Strange doesn’t come home from an Avengers meeting one day, Stephen gets worried and decides to go after him.
Of course, what would a rescue mission be without a screaming toddler?
Shut Up (ao3) - InkDippedFingertips
G, 1k
Summary: Tony is sick and Stephen had his own way of handling him.
Sick Little Boy (ao3) - professional_benaddict
T, 3k
Summary: It is the weekend, which means time for Tony and Peter to play. But, little Peter falls ill and cannot play like normal, which upsets him. Daddy Tony hates seeing his boy upset, so he comes up with an idea and invites Uncle Stephen over for a house call. After all, Daddies know best and so do doctors.
Side Effects (ao3) - Bravehardt, Foxglove_Fiction
M, 9k
Summary: Tony responds to an unexpected summons to aid the sorcerer duo in containing an unruly botanical beast Stephen was researching. The beast is subdued but not before it disperses a defensive spore into the air of the sanctum. Only Stephen is unfortunate enough to inhale the toxin and while Wong assures it's nothing serious, things still manage to go awry from there.
Spiders and the Common Cold (ao3) - shiverfawkes
N/R, 2k
Summary: Peter is sick
stay sick; don't get well (ao3) - StrangerInAStrangeLand
G, 3k
Summary: After a particularly long two weeks of constant battling, a battered, bruised, feverish Stephen walks into a lonely diner at midnight where the only people inside are him, a faceless waiter, and an understandably worried Tony Stark.
The Obligatory Sickfic: Dr Strange and Dr Stark (ao3) - Chiroptach
G, 1k
Summary: When Stephen gets sick Tony takes it upon himself to heal the doctor.
The Sickfic Saga (ao3) - Chiroptach
G, 1k
Summary: Whenever Peter doesn't feel well his dads smother him in attention and threat him like he's dying, so why can't they just take care of themselves?
urgent matters only (ao3) - humanveil
T, 1k
Summary: “The internet says he’s dying,” Peter says, glancing at his phone screen and skimming the search results. “Something about ca—”
“I’m not dying,” Tony interjects, cutting Peter off before he can finish. “It’s just a headache.” He sits up, sends a glare toward the kid. “This is why you’re banned from Google.”
As a potentially undying being, there are some mortal concepts that are completely lost on Clea. Of these things are seasonal allergies and illnesses.
The first time she heard Stephen sneeze, she nearly had to be peeled off of the ceiling. Stephen though it was hilarious.
Once during the winter Stephen began coughing. He could hardly get Clea more than five feet away from him throughout the duration of his strep throat. Her concern was very sweet to him.
One late night Clea woke to find Stephen on the bathroom floor, emptying his stomach into the toilet. She honestly thought he was dying at first. He had to reassure her that no, he wasn't dying, he was just sick with the flu, and would be back to normal after a week or so. Clea watched him like a hawk all throughout.
Prompt: IronStrange where Stephen is sick and refusing to admit it because he’s a doctor, and Tony’s not having his crap
For @voluptuousducks who has drawn 2 things for me now and who is so talented and kind and sweet and deserves all the love!
Tony’s engrossed in his work, eyes pulled toward the screws and bolts littering his station with a deep, narrow focus, but FRIDAY’s hesitant voice coming over the comm is just enough to have him leaning his concentration off his work, just slightly.
“Sir?”
“Hmm?” Tony hums out as he picks up a bolt and holds it up to a piece of a metal suit he’s working on.
“It’s Stephen.”
Those two words are enough to have Tony abandoning his work with a low sigh, spinning in his chair and looking up at the ceiling with arched brows.
Stephen’s been sick for a few days now, but despite Tony’s best efforts, Stephen refuses to rest, claiming that he isn’t sick and would know if he was because he’s a doctor after all.
Tony’s tried soft pleas, threats, and he’s even sent Peter in to pull some bullshit about how scared he is for Stephen’s health, but Stephen won’t budge, and Tony’s frustration has him doing his best to ignore the situation, unable to compete with that level of stubbornness.
“What about him?”
“He’s refused the medicine left for him, and his fever is spiking.”
“Spiking?” Tony repeats, sitting up a little straighter in his chair.
“Yes, sir. His current temperature is 103.2 degrees, and it’s steadily climbing.”
Tony curses quietly under his breath as he gets to his feet, bones cracking from hunching over a desk for hours.
“Are we looking at a Code Blue?” He questions, wanting to know if Banner should be called for a medical emergency as he walks toward the door, stepping through the sliding panels into the hallway.
“Not yet, but it has the potential to go in that direction very soon.”
Nodding, Tony picks up his pace, just slightly, turning corners and taking elevators as he makes his way to the lab Stephen’s been occupying for almost a week now. When he reaches the door, he pauses, frowning at the harsh coughs coming from the other side of the door.
“Any tips, FRIDAY?”
FRIDAY’s quiet for an extended moment before crackling quietly over the comms, voice holding a hint of concern.
“It won’t be as hard as you think, sir. He is really bad off.”
That’s enough to have Tony swallowing thickly as he steps up to trigger the sliding doors with clenched fists, his frown deepening when the barking coughs come at him at full volume, echoing off the bare walls.
“Stephen,” Tony calls out as he starts toward the man, lungs swelling with a deep breath as he mentally wills himself to be patient.
Stephen slowly spins around in his chair, and Tony can’t help the quiet gasp that slips from suddenly parted lips. Stephen’s face is a ghostly pale, with his forehead hidden behind disheveled bangs hanging over it, a few strands clinging to it from drops of sweat. His cheeks are flushed, and there are deep purple bags under his bloodshot eyes. He’s shaking despite the glistening drops of sweat clinging to his temples, but he only cocks his head to the side with an arched brow at Tony’s presecence, as if he’s not a living look of death.
“Tony.”
Tony can’t hide the visible wince from the gravelly croak that comes out of Stephen’s mouth, followed by a few rough coughs that Stephen covers with his fist as if it’s normal.
Tony pries his eyes away to see the untouched medicine shoved onto a table that’s pushed against a wall far from Stephen’s desk.
“You haven’t taken the medicine.”
“Because,” Stephen starts, lips moving around his fist as a few coughs break up his words. “I don’t need it. Medicine is only meant for those who are sick, Tony. Let me handle medical queries; I’m the one who’s the doctor.”
Tony arches both brows as a breath of disbelief slips past pressed lips. “Then what do you call this?” He asks, motioning toward Stephen’s poor condition.
“I am not having this conversation again,” Stephen says as he turns in his chair, moving back to his work.
A hint of agitation has one of Tony’s eyes twitching, but he moves to the medicine and starts measuring out the proper dose, shoulders tensing as Stephen falls into a deep, chesty coughing fit, one that’s loud, almost booming.
“You are sick,” Tony starts, trying to push his voice over the hacking coughs as he brings the measuring cup up to his eyes to ensure the liquid medicine is at the recommended line. “You need to take this,” he adds, turning on his heel. “Stop--”
His words fall short, stuttering to a halt when his eyes fall on Stephen’s hunched over form, trembling hands braced against his knees as he sucks in ragged breaths.
“Shit,” Tony curses, setting the measuring cup back on the table as he crosses the room in a few long strides. He gently pulls on Stephen’s chair and spins it until he can drop to a crouch in front of him. “Stephen, hey. You with me?”
Stephen’s blinking slowly, and when he looks up, his face is entirely too pale, and he’s panting, a crackling wheeze coming from his chest.
“Fuck,” Tony spits out, one hand cupping Stephen’s burning cheek. “FRIDAY?”
“His temperature is pushing 104 degrees now, sir.”
“Okay,” Tony draws out, trying hard to push down the panic crawling up his throat. “Code Blue now?”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
“Contact Banner,” Tony orders as he slips his arms under Stephen’s, pulling the doctor to his feet.
Stephen’s legs buckle, and Tony braces himself against the heavy weight with a grunt.
“Don’t keel over on me, Strange.”
Barely lucid, Stephen drops his burning forehead to Tony’s shoulder as Tony snakes an arm around his waist. He leans into the warmth with a low groan, one that pulls at his scraped throat, and his shoulder slump in defeat.
“No promises.”
*****
It’s two days until Stephen opens his eyes with recollection as opposed to a a hazy cloud of confusion that ends with him slipping unconscious. Tony’s relieved when Stephen meets his gaze with a knowing look, and he shakes his head when Stephen makes a move to remove the oxygen mask covering his mouth.
“Don’t.” His voice is harsher than he meant, so much that Stephen freezes, eyes going slightly wide as he slowly moves his hand away from the mask.
Stephen’s face pulls into a clear look of concern, one that Tony’s seen one too many times, and it shoves his frustration to the center of his core.
“Do not look at me like that. I am fine-- you are the one who’s been out for two days with pneumonia.”
Again, Stephen’s face pulls into silent surprise, and Tony nods, face pinched into aggravation.
“Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p.’ “Pneumonia-- something you got when you ignored a bad chest cold apparently. Something you got when you insisted that you didn’t need any medicine because you’re a doctor and know better.” He sucks in a deep breath, mentally screaming at himself to calm down when Stephen’s face falls at his words.
Stephen reaches for his mask once more, but Tony shakes his head as he gets to his feet.
“I said don’t. Your lungs need all the help they can get.” He starts toward the door, fists clenched at his sides. “I’m going to find Banner-- let him know you’re awake.”
He’s half out the door when he hears it-- a pained, low croak that has every muscle slumping, giving up on the tension that’s taken home in his body since Banner admitted Stephen.
“I’m sorry.”
Even with the illness coating Stephen’s tone, Tony can still hear the sincerity, and he turns around and leans against the door frame, crossing his arms with a sigh as he frowns at Stephen, who’s half-propped up on one, shaking elbow.
“Mask,” he says, and Stephen places it back over his mouth as he sinks back against his pillows.
“I know you’re sorry, and I’m not mad-- that’s just how I show concern. Just ask Peter; he can tell you of probably twenty times I’ve yelled at him because I was worried about him.”
Stephen’s lips crack into a small smile, and Tony visibly relaxes against the door frame.
“Don’t think this is okay, though,” he adds, motioning toward the room and the many wires sticking out of Stephen’s body. “We are going to talk about this ‘I’m not sick, I’m a doctor’ bullshit when you don’t look like death.”
Stephen nods, and a ghost of a smile plays across Tony’s lips.
