He's just running your usual blood panels -- usual blood panels for people who run blood panels on their friends, he supposes, but he'd just been doing a check-up after their latest round of scientific shenanigans -- and something doesn't come back quite right. Obviously it can't be right. Even if Tony's been getting sick in the mornings. That's just coincidence. That's just -- look, that's not how bodies work, okay? So he runs the panels again, this time focusing on pregnancy, and this is a false positive. It has to be. There's no other option.
"Tony, come here." He has the results in his hand, and he's laughing about it. He thinks. "You're never going to guess what this says."
Tony does not want to 'come here.' He wants to finish this bagel. It's his third. This one has relish and mustard on it. It's not weird, it's just like...a breakfast hot dog without the hot dog. Smelling meat has been making him feel queasy. Last night's dinner out at a beef and beer had him running for the bathroom. He blamed it on fundraisers. Or what Thor thought was a good cologne to try.
Or that Pepper showed up with Happy.
Maybe not that one. Bruce and he haven't really had a talk about what to do over Tony's still flickering flame for the strawberry blonde. Nor should they. Everything since London has been great.
It's the 'you'll never guess' bit that has him frowning. "Let's see. You were tinkering with the machines? Barton was?" If he's laughing, it's not cancer, or heart disease. So something ridiculous then? "It's giving my apparent age as five years old and you feel vindicated at last?"
Tony and weird things go along together so well, so Bruce has been overlooking things like meatless breakfast hot dogs, but his determined smile flickers for a second when he sees this morning's. Just a second! Seriously, anatomy doesn't work like that! And even if they were doing something crazy in the lab -- even if they've been working on fertility -- well then, that's just their answer, isn't it? His blood's just full of hormones. He didn't, like, grow a uterus. Or anything.
Right?
Bruce holds the paper out to Tony, still determinedly smiling. Because this is hilariously not happening!
Tony doesn't check things like that. He works out. Constantly. Being in the suit is a work out and Steve's been teaching him how to fight without it. Boxing, evidently, isn't really applicable in daily life and Tony keeps wanting to really do damage to Happy so it's probably good he doesn't train with him any more.
"I need the calories, Banner. Lugging around fifty pounds of armor and chasing after you sort of requires--" Tony rubs a hand on his pants when Bruce comes over and takes the paper.
Estrogen. Human chorionic gonadotropin...
Tony rolls his eyes.
"I just got some of that bio-enhancer in my system is all. Probably should be all right. Right? It's not going to make me go into seizures or anything will it?" He's had bad luck in lab experiments with Banner since they met.
"No, no seizures. You might grow breasts, though." Now he's eyeing Tony, though. This had been alright before he'd had that throwaway thought about growing a uterus. Obviously that's so impossible, but how lucky have they been in the lab? The rate at which they manage to do stupid shit to themselves is rather alarming. What if there's something else going on?
"We should do a few checks just to make sure this is all we have to worry about, but you're right; it's probably just extra hormones."
Then he turns and starts for his lab, where there's more medical equipment. The ultrasound is just a precaution! He pauses and looks over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow.
"Now? Seriously? I'm eating." But Bruce has this look and Tony doesn't like it. Amused and worried is not something one ever wants to see on Bruce Banner's face. That means he's either actually worried or is about to play a prank. Barton's no where in sight so it can't be the latter...unless the prank is on him and in which case--
"Fine."
He grabs a pudding cup out of the fridge on the way by because it totally goes with mustard and relish bagels and follows Bruce to his lab two floors down in the R & D section of the Tower.
He takes one look at what is obviously an ultrasound machine and scowls. "Haha. Didn't have time to set up stirrups too? No thanks, Hawkeye. Where's he hiding? Bet he's got a camera."
"Hey, it's your body that's pulling the prank." Bruce is still in denial of the whole situation, hence his barely restrained laughter, but it's weak laughter. Because they seriously can't have fucked up this badly. ... Right? No, there's no possible way they could have. They're testing this stuff; it's safe! But have they tested it on an adult male?
No, they just dared an adult male to try their fertility-enhancing drug. When was that? Two months ago?
Ha. No. Just, no. That's not how biology works!
Still, he puts a hand on Tony's shoulder and directs him to the examining table.
"Just a precaution. You can't tell me our lab hijinks don't sometimes lead to weird stuff. Obviously you're not pregnant," obviously! "but I want to make sure everything looks okay in there." And if he's pregnant he shouldn't X-ray. But he's not pregnant because he is a guy!
X-Rays are hard with Tony. MRIs are impossible. The guy has an electro magnet in his chest, after all. Ultra sounds really are the way to go. "So what, you're going to check my heart? My stomach? You're nuts Banner. But fine, if it'll stop you from giggling."
Off comes his shirt and he lays down, watching Bruce undo his wasteband. He's not actually all that keen on seeing the marks the button left. His pants were just a little too tight. Maybe he was getting fat.
"Maybe the hormones are making me keep water. Or store extra fat..." Because not he was worried. Not that he ws pregnant, just that his health was at risk.
"What do you think those breasts I warned you about are made of?" Of course it's just some water retention, residual fat build up... He smears around some ultrasound goo -- which has a technical name but sometimes Bruce prefers far more accurate terms like that -- and sets up the machine. After a second of moving the wand around, Bruce goes pale and pulls his reading glasses out so he can lean in closer.
"No." Oh, yes. His throwaway thought about growing a uterus seems to have been accurate. How familiar is Tony with how his internal organs usually look on an ultrasound screen? Regardless, the fetus at roughly eight weeks of development is probably pretty clearly distinguishable.
"Oh, haha. Right, you didn't record that this morning? Jarvis help you? Jarvis, I'm cutting your salary for this!" He's not laughing but he's not worried either. Banner's a good actor. He's had to be.
The AI sighs when called, just like Tony's bulter use to do when growing up. Jarvis is very much an extension of the man his parents paid to toddle around after him and keep him from building nuclear reactors at ten years old. "Sir? Unfortunately, you don't pay me. But I can attest that there is no recording on that feed. Shall I make one?"
Tony's on his elbows. "No, no you 'shall' not," he barks and pushes the wand from his stomach. "Not funny any more, Banner. Get me a towel."
"Not laughing." Bruce is too stunned to stop Tony, or even look at him. The last recorded image is still on the screen, and Bruce can't take his eyes off it. All the humor's drained out of him because this isn't funny anymore, at all, and actually he looks stricken enough that he might be the next one to run for the bathroom.
It looks like it's developing properly. Why he's concerned about that when it shouldn't even exist, he couldn't say, but there it is, the size it should be. He can't breathe.
The mess on his stomach is easily cleared away once he gets his own damned towel and he does up his pants and gets off of the table. His eyes are on the ceiling. Barton's in there somewhere. Giggling stupidly. He knows it. And yet--
Nothing. No movement. Except for Banner, who looks like he's going to fall over.
He pulls on his shirt and moves to smirk at the monitor. "It can't, see, where would the--" He doesn't have internal parts. No ovaries, no proper openings... But there it is. Attached to his abdominal wall.
"Right, yeah." He tears his eyes away from the screen and tries to give a reassuring smile, but it's tight and obviously forced. But of course; clearly this thing isn't going to work out, isn't going to go to term, and how is he even going to carry it? But that's just medical reasons. This is Tony's body, and he obviously wasn't planning on having a baby... himself. So why would he want to now?
And if it's Bruce's -- which is somehow even weirder to think about -- maybe it shouldn't be born at all.
"Yeah, I'll call someone at SHIELD." Because Bruce can't do this. He can't even tell what he's feeling when he starts to straighten up the area -- needlessly; he's mostly just moving things around -- but he definitely isn't up for this kind of surgery.
"It was probably the dare," he murmurs, focusing on rearranging the equipment on his lab bench. "I'm sorry."
"You're not-- You're not telling anyone--" Oh God, what's he going to do? Get a second opinion? Just cut the thing out? And what then? What does it mean scientifically? It's not alive yet. It's just a cluster of cells, a cluster of impossible cells. How could human life be sparked? Did that pill genetically change his sex cells? Did they contain enough human cellular material to actually cause sperm to mutate into eggs? And if that's the case, did the remaining sparm fertilize itself? Or is it Banner's
( ... )
Bruce is still reeling. He can barely keep up with what Tony's saying, but it is nice to have someone to order him around. Tests, he can do; tests he wants to do, but he isn't going to let himself get attached to the idea. This is impossible, and of course Tony's going to want it gone. That just makes sense. Get used to it, Banner. Really, Bruce should want it gone too
( ... )
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"Tony, come here." He has the results in his hand, and he's laughing about it. He thinks. "You're never going to guess what this says."
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Or that Pepper showed up with Happy.
Maybe not that one. Bruce and he haven't really had a talk about what to do over Tony's still flickering flame for the strawberry blonde. Nor should they. Everything since London has been great.
It's the 'you'll never guess' bit that has him frowning. "Let's see. You were tinkering with the machines? Barton was?" If he's laughing, it's not cancer, or heart disease. So something ridiculous then? "It's giving my apparent age as five years old and you feel vindicated at last?"
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Right?
Bruce holds the paper out to Tony, still determinedly smiling. Because this is hilariously not happening!
"It says you're pregnant."
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Tony doesn't check things like that. He works out. Constantly. Being in the suit is a work out and Steve's been teaching him how to fight without it. Boxing, evidently, isn't really applicable in daily life and Tony keeps wanting to really do damage to Happy so it's probably good he doesn't train with him any more.
"I need the calories, Banner. Lugging around fifty pounds of armor and chasing after you sort of requires--" Tony rubs a hand on his pants when Bruce comes over and takes the paper.
Estrogen. Human chorionic gonadotropin...
Tony rolls his eyes.
"I just got some of that bio-enhancer in my system is all. Probably should be all right. Right? It's not going to make me go into seizures or anything will it?" He's had bad luck in lab experiments with Banner since they met.
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"We should do a few checks just to make sure this is all we have to worry about, but you're right; it's probably just extra hormones."
Then he turns and starts for his lab, where there's more medical equipment. The ultrasound is just a precaution! He pauses and looks over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow.
"Coming?"
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"Fine."
He grabs a pudding cup out of the fridge on the way by because it totally goes with mustard and relish bagels and follows Bruce to his lab two floors down in the R & D section of the Tower.
He takes one look at what is obviously an ultrasound machine and scowls. "Haha. Didn't have time to set up stirrups too? No thanks, Hawkeye. Where's he hiding? Bet he's got a camera."
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No, they just dared an adult male to try their fertility-enhancing drug. When was that? Two months ago?
Ha. No. Just, no. That's not how biology works!
Still, he puts a hand on Tony's shoulder and directs him to the examining table.
"Just a precaution. You can't tell me our lab hijinks don't sometimes lead to weird stuff. Obviously you're not pregnant," obviously! "but I want to make sure everything looks okay in there." And if he's pregnant he shouldn't X-ray. But he's not pregnant because he is a guy!
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Off comes his shirt and he lays down, watching Bruce undo his wasteband. He's not actually all that keen on seeing the marks the button left. His pants were just a little too tight. Maybe he was getting fat.
"Maybe the hormones are making me keep water. Or store extra fat..." Because not he was worried. Not that he ws pregnant, just that his health was at risk.
Over a dare!
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"No." Oh, yes. His throwaway thought about growing a uterus seems to have been accurate. How familiar is Tony with how his internal organs usually look on an ultrasound screen? Regardless, the fetus at roughly eight weeks of development is probably pretty clearly distinguishable.
"No, this is impossible."
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The AI sighs when called, just like Tony's bulter use to do when growing up. Jarvis is very much an extension of the man his parents paid to toddle around after him and keep him from building nuclear reactors at ten years old. "Sir? Unfortunately, you don't pay me. But I can attest that there is no recording on that feed. Shall I make one?"
Tony's on his elbows. "No, no you 'shall' not," he barks and pushes the wand from his stomach. "Not funny any more, Banner. Get me a towel."
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It looks like it's developing properly. Why he's concerned about that when it shouldn't even exist, he couldn't say, but there it is, the size it should be. He can't breathe.
"How? How could this have happened?"
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Nothing. No movement. Except for Banner, who looks like he's going to fall over.
He pulls on his shirt and moves to smirk at the monitor. "It can't, see, where would the--" He doesn't have internal parts. No ovaries, no proper openings... But there it is. Attached to his abdominal wall.
It's literally impossible.
And all of the color drains from his face.
"Get a surgeon. Get it out of me."
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"Right, yeah." He tears his eyes away from the screen and tries to give a reassuring smile, but it's tight and obviously forced. But of course; clearly this thing isn't going to work out, isn't going to go to term, and how is he even going to carry it? But that's just medical reasons. This is Tony's body, and he obviously wasn't planning on having a baby... himself. So why would he want to now?
And if it's Bruce's -- which is somehow even weirder to think about -- maybe it shouldn't be born at all.
"Yeah, I'll call someone at SHIELD." Because Bruce can't do this. He can't even tell what he's feeling when he starts to straighten up the area -- needlessly; he's mostly just moving things around -- but he definitely isn't up for this kind of surgery.
"It was probably the dare," he murmurs, focusing on rearranging the equipment on his lab bench. "I'm sorry."
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