Chapter Text
Bruce Banner is not a medical doctor.
Granted, he has seven various advanced degrees—ranging in topics from radio and nuclear physics to biochemistry—and he is widely considered one of the brightest minds of his time, but aside from basic first aid, he has no formal medical training. He’s just not that kind of doctor.
Except for when he needs to be.
X
“Dr. Banner, Boss is requesting your presence in his private lab.”
Bruce is standing at the bathroom sink when FRIDAY’s voice issues over the speakers. He spits his mouthful of toothpaste out before glancing up. “Right now?” he asks as he rinses his toothbrush. “Does he have any idea what time it is?”
There’s a brief pause. “I have just informed him of the time,” the AI replies. “He is, however, insistent.”
Bruce sighs, turning off the faucet. So much for his plans to head off to bed. He exits his quarters and takes the elevator up to Tony’s floor.
As he enters the lab, he’s expecting to find Tony engrossed in his latest project. Instead, he discovers the man sitting reclined in a chair in the back corner of the lab. His shirt is removed and he has an overall ill look to him—pale, sweaty, and slightly breathless as he taps something into the Starkpad on his lap.
Bruce is suddenly feeling much more alert. “Tony? Are you alright?” he asks with a frown, quickly closing the distance between them.
Tony glances up from the screen. “Oh good, you’re here,” he says. Aside from the breathlessness, his tone is much more casual than Bruce would have expected. With a shaky hand, he gestures at his arc reactor. “Something’s a little… off.”
“Define ‘off’,” Bruce requests, looking his friend over in concern.
“Not sure yet.” Tony tilts his head sideways in the direction of the portable heart monitor standing nearby. “Was just about to hook that baby up, but then, y'know… had to sit.”
Bruce wheels the monitor closer to the chair and starts attaching the wires to Tony’s chest. As soon as it’s connected, the monitor starts beeping alarmingly.
Rolling his eyes, Tony reaches over to press a button on the machine. The sound instantly stops.
Bruce blinks at him. “Did you just mute your heart monitor?”
“We can still see it,” Tony retorts, pointing up at the screen. The lines on the graph are moving in a concerning pattern of spikes and plateaus. “Don’t need to go deaf too.”
Tony tilts the Starkpad in his direction and Bruce skims the data that FRIDAY has pulled from the arc reactor. “Why didn’t you just go to Medical?” Bruce questions.
“Don’t need Medical,” Tony grunts as he clips an oximeter onto his fingertip. “I’ve got you.”
Bruce rolls his eyes. This isn’t the first time Tony’s called him for help with the device, but the other times were just routine maintenance. “You know I’m not that kind of doctor, right?”
Tony shrugs. “Close enough.”
Bruce points at the graph. “This is showing cardiac dysrhythmia and hypotension, plus your O2 stats are in the mid-eighties. You need Medical.”
“See?” Tony smirks at him. “That’s something only a real doctor would know.” He points at some numbers in the corner of the screen of the Starkpad. “Look, I’m pretty sure the issue is a corroded wire in the reactor’s core. We just need to switch it out.”
Picking up the Starkpad, Bruce peers closer at the screen. He can see a digital 3D model of the device's core rotating in the center, one area glowing red. “Just because I can read a cardiogram doesn’t mean I’m qualified to help with this."
“Well, neither is Medical,” Tony retorts. “They aren’t exactly trained in repairing malfunctioning electromagnets.”
“No, but they are significantly more skilled in dealing with heart problems,” Bruce points out. “I’m pretty sure my CPR certification expired like three years ago.”
Tony waves a hand dismissively at him. “It hasn’t changed that much. Thirty compressions, two breaths, Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees, yada, yada…”
“I’m really not comfortable with—”
“Um, hold that thought,” Tony grunts, struggling to sit up straighter. His face suddenly takes on an ashen color and Bruce can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“What is it?” Bruce questions.
Tony swallows hard. “Just… nauseous,” he breathes out, his face screwing up in obvious discomfort.
“Oh, um, okay hang on.” Bruce’s eyes dart around the room, searching for some kind of receptacle.
Tony is swallowing convulsively now. “Bruce…” he warns.
Bruce spies a bowl of screws on the table and dumps them out before thrusting the empty container under Tony’s chin.
“Aw, I just sorted those...” Tony complains.
They sit there for a few minutes, Bruce holding the bowl as Tony breathes deeply, occasionally spitting out strings of saliva but not quite throwing up.
Bruce’s level of concern is quickly increasing and he’s watching the monitors nervously. “Now are you ready to go to Medical?” he asks.
“Nah… think ‘m okay,” Tony breathes out, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. He closes his eyes and leans back against the chair. His hand fumbles for the Starkpad again and he tilts it back up at his face, opening one eye to squint at the display. “Just need to change the wire.”
Bruce hesitates; he knows how much his friend despises having the SHIELD doctors check him over, especially when the reactor is involved. “You have the replacement wire here?”
Tony nods. “There’s a metal box on the shelf behind you. Should be a couple spares in there.”
Bruce moves over to the shelf and retrieves the box. “And you’re sure this is safe?”
Tony huffs out a humorless laugh. “Well, I don’t think anything is really safe these days,” he says flippantly. At Bruce’s unamused look, he quickly sobers. “Listen, I just need help changing out a wire. I’ll talk you through the whole thing.”
Bruce heaves out another sigh, but both of them already know Tony’s won. “Alright, fine. But just this once.”
After a brief discussion of the logistics, Bruce unmutes the monitor and positions himself beside Tony, the parts he needs spread out on the workstation beside him.
Tony smiles and gives him an encouraging thumbs up. “You got this, buddy.”
Steeling himself with a deep breath, Bruce clasps the reactor in his fingers and carefully twists to remove it from the casing. As he pulls it out of Tony’s chest, the other man grunts sharply.
“Tony?” Bruce asks worriedly.
“Fine,” Tony gasps out as the monitor’s beeping increases. “Let’s just, uh”—he gasps again—“let’s just hurry.”
Following Tony’s muttered instructions, Bruce uses pliers to remove the corroded wire from the reactor and switch in a new one. He’s going as fast as he can, but it’s obvious that every second the reactor is outside of Tony’s chest, the man’s condition is deteriorating. Sweat is dripping down Tony’s face and neck and his breaths are coming out quick and shallow.
“Almost done, just a couple more seconds,” Bruce assures as he fiddles with the wire.
“No rush,” Tony gasps back. He closes his eyes as his face drains even further of color. “T-Take your time.”
Hurriedly Bruce finishes attaching the wires and replaces the device in his friend’s chest, breathing out an immense sigh of relief as he does so. “Done!” he declares.
However, nothing immediately improves. The machine continues to beep just as erratically as ever and Tony is still gasping out shallow breaths and looks to be teetering on the verge of unconsciousness.
A cold wave of dread pools in Bruce’s stomach. “Tony?” he asks, tapping his friend’s cheek. “Hey, you okay? Did something go wrong?”
The only response he gets is Tony’s eyes rolling back in his head and one continuous loud beep from the monitor.
Bruce swears loudly. “FRIDAY, call Medical!” he exclaims, grabbing Tony under the arms and hauling him out of the chair and down to the floor. “Get someone down here!”
“Medical staff has been alerted,” FRIDAY reports. “Please stand by. In the meantime, be aware that Boss keeps a portable defibrillator on the wall near the lab’s entrance.”
Over the sound of the alarm, Bruce races over and grabs the AED. His hands are trembling as he yanks the case open and fumbles with the device inside, not sure if he can even safely use it, given Tony’s arc reactor.
Kneeling down on the ground, he flips on the machine and the automated voice inside starts droning out instructions. He’s just getting ready to stick one of the adhesive shock pads to Tony’s chest when the man’s eyes suddenly fly back open and he jolts up, gasping in a breath.
“Tony!” Bruce yelps. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”
“Sorry,” Tony chokes out between gasps. “Just… takes a second… to recharge… the capacitor.”
After a few moments, the beeping of the monitor slows back to a steady rhythm and Tony’s breaths even out. Satisfied that his friend is no longer actively dying, Bruce lets out a heavy sigh and shifts around to a seated position on the floor, begrudgingly telling FRIDAY to cancel the medical team.
“Can’t believe you forgot to mention it needed to recharge,” Bruce grumbles.
Tony is sitting up and peeling the heart monitor stickers off his chest now, looking almost completely back to normal. “Hey, relax,” he says, using his free hand to pat Bruce on the shoulder. “You did great.”
“You’re an ass, Tony,” Bruce groans, covering his face with his hands. “Never again.”