Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

May Parker took a deep, cleansing breath as she shut the door behind her, absently turning the deadbolt before she set her bags down. She heard the shower running from Peter’s bathroom, and smiled in relief that the teen had kept his word and finished patrol before she got home from work.

It was only a few weeks into January, and the schedule they had going with Peter spending May’s off nights at the apartment and her work nights at the tower was going really, really well, but that didn’t mean that either party didn’t miss the lovable teenager when he wasn’t there. Even though it had only been a few nights, she felt like she hadn’t seen Peter in ages, and was looking forward to having her nephew for the next three nights.

May gathered her hair into a loose twist, then clipped it snugly in place before she washed her hands and began to prepare dinner. She settled on spaghetti, mostly because it was one of the only things that she could cook with any sort of confidence or consistency. She bustled about the kitchen, gathering ingredients and putting a pot of water on to boil, the muted white noise of the shower serving as a soothing background noise as she cooked.

Peter sniffled as he drew the shower curtain back, stepping out and grabbing his towel from the hook. He buried his face in the fabric, rubbing at his eyes through the terry cloth before he wrapped it around his waist, tucking it snugly into itself. He cleared his throat, the steam from the shower loosening the slight congestion he was sporting from the cold weather. He combed his hair with his fingers, then opened the bathroom door, fighting a shiver as the air felt uncomfortably cool compared to the sauna he’d created in the bathroom. He followed May’s heartbeat to the kitchen, peeking around the wall.

“Hey,” he said softly, and she jumped, nearly dropping the bottle of olive oil.

“Oh my god!”

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m so sorry!” Peter cringed, forgetting that not everyone can keep tabs on their surroundings as well as he can. May returned her gaze to the stove, stirring the simmering pasta.

“It’s okay, you just startled me. How was patrol?” She asked, then turned her head to look at him when her question was met with silence. She had to quirk a smile as he held one finger up, the expression on his face all too familiar.

Peter ducked back behind the wall, gripping the towel tightly with one hand—you can never be too careful—and using the other to cup a hand over his mouth and nose. Five sneezes later, he straightened with a sniffle and sighed, stepping out into the doorway again.

“Bless you! Steam got you?” May asked, a teasing smile playing at her lips.

“Yeah,” he replied, then aimed a cough into his elbow.

May looked up at that, giving him a quick glance before she returned back to what she was doing.

“Why don’t you go put some clothes on, Spider-Man?” She teased, fighting a giggle as Peter blushed and groaned, padding off to his room. May didn’t think she’d ever get over the way one spider bite turned her scrawny baby into a powerhouse of lean muscle who could stop a bus with his bare hands and not break a sweat. She could still remember the three-pound preemie gazing up at her from inside a NICU incubator.

Peter coughed again as he padded into his bedroom, then again after closing the door. May frowned, her eyes squinting slightly as she listened to him cough sporadically. The door opened again, and another cough grew louder as he got closer, before he entered the kitchen again, this time with clothes on.

“You okay?” May asked, feigning nonchalance after he coughed into his elbow, then sniffled. She noticed two t-shirts peeking out from the neckline of the thick hoodie he had on. It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to feel cold, with the spider DNA and the temperature regulation issues that came with it, but two shirts and a hoodie was more than usual, especially considering how high she kept the heat in the apartment to accommodate his tendency to get chilled.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Peter said, looking at her with a blank expression before he registered what she was talking about. “The weather, you know how it gets,” he said, and May had to admit that he had a point.

“Sit down, dinner’s ready,” she said, and for once he listened instead of insisting upon helping get the table set and drinks made. May narrowed her eyes again once her back was turned, fighting off the nagging feeling in her gut.

“How was work?” Peter asked once they were both seated, digging in with his usual vigor.

“It was work,” May shrugged. “How was school?”

“It was school,” Peter said, mimicking her shrug, then breaking into a laugh when she fixed him with a look.

“How was your weekend? Did you guys do anything fun?” She asked, and Peter lit up.

“We got a lot of lab time in. I’m working on a new formula for my web fluid and we got to make some upgrades to my suit, plus Dad let me work on one of his suits, too! He promised me that he’d let me build my own robot soon, and I can’t wait,” Peter babbled, eyes sparkling so intensely that May couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s awesome, baby! I’m glad y’all had so much fun!” She said, her heart fluttering the way it did whenever she saw him so happy. They ate in between a comfortable stream of conversation, sharing about their days and lapsing into contented silence in between.

“Here, I’ll take them,” Peter said once their plates were cleared, standing up and offering one hand to take May’s plate.

“You don’t want seconds?” May asked, and Peter shrugged.

“I’m good, I ate on patrol,” he said, which was the truth. He did leave out the fact that he only had two hot dogs versus his usual four, at least. May seemed extra vigilant, and Peter had to admit that the cold weather and the light rain that he’d patrolled through didn’t help him seem very convincing, but he wasn’t coughing much more than usual, especially during winter.

“Thank you, honey,” May said, coming up behind him and pecking him on the cheek as he washed the dishes from dinner.

“Of course, it’s no big deal,” he said with a shrug.

“I’ll go get in the shower now, I guess, and if you want we can maybe watch some TV?”

Peter smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, I have some homework to do, but after that, I’d love to.”

“Okay, baby, I’ll be back out soon.”

May frowned, looking up after yet another cough and sniffle sounded from the kitchen table. Peter was working diligently, apparently focused enough on his work to not notice the steady stream of coughs, sneezes, sniffles, and throat clearing he’d emitted the entire evening, getting increasingly frequent as the night went on. May squinted again and pulled out her phone, typing out a quick text to Tony, asking if he’d noticed anything off with Peter over the weekend. She looked up when she heard a sharp gasp, watching the teen duck his head and aim a trio of sneezes towards his lap, still holding a pencil in one hand and calculator in the other.

“Bless you,” she said softly, focusing on keeping her voice casual, especially as he followed the outburst with another few coughs and a decidedly runny-sounding sniffle.

“Thanks, sorry,” he said absently, returning to his work with a soft sigh.

“How many times am I going to have to tell you to stop apologizing?” She asked, and Peter smiled shyly.

“Sorry. It’s just the we—”

“The weather, I know, sweetheart. Does ‘the weather’ want some tea? Or hot chocolate?”

“…hot chocolate,” Peter mumbled, and May smirked.

“Marshmallows or whipped cream?” She asked as she rose from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

“Uhhh, whip. Thank you,” Peter said, and May smiled as she got the milk and whipped cream out of the fridge.

“Of course, love. You having trouble?” She asked, watching him rub absently at his forehead, looking like he might be starting to get frustrated.

“Just this one problem, I can figure it out,” Peter said, but his shoulders slumped and he found himself yawning anyways. He looked up, glancing at the microwave clock and rolling his eyes when he saw it was only 9:30.

“Hmm, let’s see,” May said, leaving the milk on to boil and heading over to peek over her nephew’s shoulder. “Oh my god, everything is so different from when I learned this!” She laughed, eyes widening as she blinked in surprise at the complexity of what he was working on.

“I usually love it, but this one is kinda tough, I guess,” Peter said, and May frowned and kissed the top of his head.

“Maybe give it a rest, hm? You’ve been going at it for a while,” she suggested, combing her fingers through his hair. He melted into her touch, looking suspiciously sleepy for the early hour. May slowed her ministrations, intentionally brushing the heel of her palm against his forehead. After nine years of caring for Peter, she’d gotten quite skilled at the subtle temperature check.

“This is the last part, I might as well finish it. It’s due tomorrow and I’m not gonna want to do it in the morning,” Peter said.

May hummed softly.

“You don’t have to go to school tomorrow if you don’t want to?”

Peter looked up, giving her a look like she’d grown another head.

“What?”

“You could play hooky, you know. Stay in your pj’s, watch movies, maybe we could make some pancakes? You’ve been burning the candle at both ends, might be fun to just have a chill day?” May said, shrugging casually.

“Who are you and what have you done with May?” Peter asked, and May laughed, patting him on the shoulder as she went to finish the hot chocolate, making two mugs—extra rich, of course, May Parker did not play games when it came to hot chocolate.

“I don’t know, it was just an idea. You deserve a day,” she said, bringing the mugs over to the table and sitting beside him. She added a hearty swirl of whipped cream to his mug, then her own.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile, then fixed her with a little smirk. “I know what you’re doing,” he said cockily, and May raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. If you wanted a ‘May-and-Peter’ day, you could’ve just asked,” he said.

May paused, then pretended to look sheepish.

“Yeah, well, I miss you, y’know?” She said, and it was technically true.

Peter softened.

“I miss you, too. You’re off next weekend, aren’t you?” He waited for May to nod before he continued. “Maybe we could take a weekend to ourselves? I can’t just miss school to play hooky,” he said, and May sighed.

“Yeah, I can wait,” she said. She knew it was too good to be true, and that there was no way the studious teen would fall for that, but it was at least worth a shot.

A sharp chime from her phone brought her and her mug over to the couch, where she curled up just like before. She frowned slightly when she read the text from Tony, that maybe Peter had been a little off, perhaps a bit tired, but nothing out of the ordinary. He asked why, and she typed back that he was having extra trouble with the weather. It had snowed over the weekend, and rained most of the day, but still. She pursed her lips, then began another message, asking if Happy would be able to bring Peter to and from school the following day and make sure that he stayed his ass inside until she got off work. Tony agreed, and she sighed and locked her phone, hoping against the nagging feeling in her gut that the sniffling teen in the kitchen wasn’t getting sick.

“Are you getting a cold?” May asked finally, and Peter looked up like a deer in headlights, then brushed her off.

“No, I’m fine, it’s just the weather,” he said, smiling when May mouthed the last few words with him with a mocking eye roll. “Hey, rude!” He said, laughing at her.

“Well, it’s time for bed anyways. C’mon, up,” she said, and Peter nodded and stood, following her to the kitchen and rinsing out his empty mug before he set it back in the sink, May following to wash the two mugs. “Inhalers,” May said, ignoring the slight pout she got from the teen as he grabbed his spacer and the Flovent inhaler. “Ah, both,” she said, and Peter sighed and grabbed the ProAir inhaler, as well. “You’re wheezing,” she said after she’d cut the water off, drying her hands before she went back over to him and rubbed his back as he coughed hard, then shook the Flovent.

“Yeah, well, I have Asthma,” Peter sassed, and May rolled her eyes.

“You know what I meant. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” She asked, brushing a loose curl out of his face.

Peter nodded, taking deep breaths from the spacer, fighting a wince at the way the Flovent always burned his throat. It stung especially bad tonight, but he played it off, tugging the inhaler out of the spacer after he’d finished and capping both. He held them absently, turning his head away from May to cough hard. She rubbed his back until he was able to stop, then he set the Flovent and spacer on the table, trading them for the ProAir. He took one puff, held his breath, then took the other, and he had to admit that the medication opened his chest up more than he’d expected; he must’ve been tighter than he’d originally thought.

“Better?” May asked, her hand warm on his back, and he nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he admitted, and she smiled softly.

“Go brush your teeth and get in bed,” she said, patting his back and giving him a gentle shove towards the bathroom.

“All settled in?” May asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Peter nodded, burrowing further into the covers. May crossed the small room and brought the blankets higher up on him, tucking him in slightly and ignoring the look she got.

“Goodnight, sweetie,” she said, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Night, May,” he murmured sleepily, slipping his arms out to hug her before he allowed her to put the blankets back under his chin.

She flicked his bedside lamp off, then paused, watching him fall asleep in mere seconds, his breathing evening out with a slight wheeze at the very end of his exhales. She pressed her lips into a fine line, standing there a minute or two longer before she turned with a sigh and headed to her own bedroom.

May peered at the clock, frowning at what she saw. It was nearly 3 in the morning, but she still hadn’t slept a wink. While it wasn’t abnormal in the slightest, she was having trouble blocking out the continuous coughing coming through the thin walls. Usually she’d be able to sleep through it, but something was giving her pause, a weird feeling that she couldn’t shake.

Heaving a sigh, she turned over in bed and tried again to get to sleep. She was successful this time, but the concerned frown on her face didn’t settle out even as she drifted off, falling asleep in spite of the asthmatic racket coming from the other side of the wall.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Peter jolted awake to the alarm, the startled jerk making his breath catch in his chest. He curled up on his side, tucking his chin to his chest and aiming a string of tight coughs under the covers. Before he could even recover, he curled even tighter and snapped sharply downwards with an irritatingly desperate sneeze, followed by two more just like the first, making his muscles clench hard. He groaned, lifting his head up from under the pile of blankets and turning the alarm off. He blew out an annoyed, slightly wheezy sigh and pushed the covers down, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He fought a scowl as he heard footsteps and a familiar heartbeat approach his door.

“Hey, good morning! Just making sure you’re up,” May said softly, and Peter nodded, swiping quickly at his nose.

“Yeah, I’m up,” he grumbled, and May’s face was caught between a teasing smile and a concerned frown, landing somewhere in the middle.

She crossed the room and rubbed his back soothingly, then combed through his hair again, discreetly allowing her fingertips to brush the back of his neck. It was warm, but not terribly.

“Your hands are cold,” Peter pouted, looking like a turtle trying to pull its neck into a shell.

“Sorry!” May said with a laugh, taking her hand back. “Alright, I have to leave for work, okay? Happy’s going to be here in a bit to take you to school, so make sure you’re ready.”

“Happy? I usually swing?” Peter asked with a confused frown.

“Yeah, it’s foggy, though, I don’t want your webs to slip,” May countered, which wasn’t entirely a lie. She did have her concerns about him swinging in the rain or morning dew, but mostly she just didn’t want him out in the cold with the trouble he was already having.

“I fixed that with the last upgrade, it’s fine!” Peter said, a bit of a whine in his voice.

“Noted. Happy’s already on his way, though, so that ship has sailed for today,” she replied, her tone gentle but leaving no room for argument.

Peter sighed and nodded, recognizing the subtle change in tone that meant that any argument was futile at best.

“Okay. Have a good day at work.”

May softened at how glum her nephew seemed, and hummed in sympathy, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Thank you, baby. You have a good day at school. I’m sorry about the ride, I didn’t know,” she said with a pat on his back, choosing to back down. Sure enough, Peter’s attitude changed. The kid was like clockwork.

“No, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” he said, and she smiled softly.

“You’re fine, love. I have to leave, okay? Have a good day! I larb you!”

“Larb you, too,” Peter replied, a small smile gracing his lips. He waited until she left, then groaned irritably as he got out of bed with a huff. He dressed quickly, brushing his teeth and starting to do something with his hair before he ran out of fucks to give and gave up. He grabbed a granola bar from the pantry, eyes locking on his inhaler on the kitchen table. He considered it, feeling the tightness in his chest and the scratchiness in his throat that came from coughing in his sleep all night. At the last minute, he rolled his eyes with another annoyed huff and grabbed his backpack, locking the door before he headed down to meet Happy.

“Jesus, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the ceiling,” Happy quipped, and Peter shot him a look through the rearview mirror. “Look, kid, don’t shoot the messenger, I don’t want to be awake this early, either. I just do as I’m told,” Happy continued, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Yeah,” Peter mumbled, then turned his gaze to the window.

Happy squirmed, the radio silence from the backseat giving him déjà vu.

“You getting sick again?” He asked, and if looks could kill, the glare he received from the grumpy teenager would’ve taken him out on the spot.

“No!”

Happy raised an eyebrow at the sassy tone, something he wasn’t used to hearing from Peter.

“Just checking, kid, crucify me.”

Peter crossed his arms, almost wishing he’d taken May up on playing hooky just so that he wouldn’t have to talk to or look at anyone. He wasn’t sure where the bad mood came from, but the tight chest, scratchy throat, runny nose, and fatigue probably had a lot to do with it. He let out a sigh, a slight wheeze tainting the exhale as he looked out the window, as if glaring at the wind blowing would make winter go away already.

“What’s wrong, Parker? Does wittle Penis have the sniffles?”

“Fuck off, Flash, not in the mood,” Peter spat, jaw clenched as he tried to turn his focus back to the front of the room.

“Sounds like somebody needs a blankie and a nap,” Flash continued, and Peter’s eye twitched.

“Just ignore him,” Ned whispered, and Peter nodded tensely.

“Trying.”

Ned sighed, feeling bad for his best friend who so obviously was not feeling his best, but had spent the entire day aggressively insisting otherwise. The only person who’d gotten even a hint of a smile out of him had been MJ, and even then it only lasted a second before it slipped back into the scowl he’d worn all day.

“Alright, desks clear, pens out, take one and pass it back.”

Peter snapped his head up, blinking at the teacher in shock.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about the quiz,” Ned whispered, and Peter looked back to him, looking like he couldn’t decide whether to cry or punch through a wall. “It’s okay, you’ll do fine. Peek over if you need to,” he said in a whisper so hushed he knew only Peter would hear.

Peter ignored Flash’s snickering from behind him, taking a quiz and glancing at Mr. Torres one last time, as if somehow he could bore his eyes into the man enough to get him out of this. He sighed, then gave up and looked down at his paper, swallowing hard against his irritated throat as he started the quiz. It had to be Spanish, of all subjects, and by the time he got halfway down the page, he was already rubbing at gritty, bleary eyes. He was tempted to look to his right, steal a glance at Ned’s paper—he had given him permission, after all. In the end, though, he couldn’t do it. His frown deepened as his classmates flipped their papers over one by one. He glanced up at the clock, then chewed his lip and returned his gaze to the paper, blinking hard in an attempt to make the letters stop dancing around on the page. The nagging thought that maybe May had been right brought the scowl right back, and he shook the idea out of his head and continued with the assessment. It was winter, after all, he got like this every year. This year was, sadly, no different.

“Pens down!”

Peter turned his paper over, a fresh wave of irritation washing over him. He was brought to his senses by a cracking noise, and looked down, jaw dropping at the mess of black ink covering his hands and the desk. He hadn’t meant to clench his fists, and certainly not hard enough to crush the pen.

“Peter!” Ned exclaimed, and he cringed as heads turned, pushing the paper to the corner of the desk and looking up at Mr. Torres with a helpless, panicked expression.

“Oops! I swear they’re making those things cheaper and cheaper these days,” Mr. Torres said with a laugh, passing a bundle of paper towels and a bottle of hand sanitizer. The man walked the aisles, collecting the quiz papers as Peter pumped hand sanitizer on the desk, the ink coming off easily, thank fuck. He hissed at a sudden sting in his palm, turning it over and fighting the urge to primal scream out of frustration.

“Peter, you’re bleeding,” Ned said softly, and Peter huffed.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he deadpanned, wincing as the hand sanitizer burned. The plastic shard of the pen had cut into his palm. He looked up as Mr. Torres whistled, standing by his desk to collect his paper.

“That’s a hell of a grip! Go see the nurse, get that cleaned out,” he said, but Peter shook his head.

“It’s fine, sir,” he said quickly. His cheeks flamed, whether from embarrassment or annoyance he couldn’t tell, but most likely a mixture.

“Well, only one way to get hand strength like that! Ah, they grow up so fast,” Flash teased from behind him, and Peter pressed his lips into a tight line. He finished cleaning the desk, brought the crushed remains of the pen and the soiled paper towels over to the trash can, then grabbed the roll and the hand sanitizer and placing them back on Mr. Torres’ desk.

“Thank you. Make sure you clean that out as soon as you get home,” Mr. Torres said kindly, and Peter forced a nod before he trudged back to his seat, slumping into it. He ignored Ned’s sympathetic gaze, fixing his eyes to the front of the room and counting down the minutes until the final dismissal bell.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Peter groaned as he spotted a familiar car outside, all but stomping over to it. He was with May tonight, and was supposed to patrol, but patrol was looking increasingly unlikely, apparently. He was at least grateful for the overcast sky, because he didn’t have the patience for his light sneezing bullshit today. “Happy, I was supposed to swing ho—Dad?”

“In the flesh,” Tony replied, eyebrow quirked. “I hope you don’t talk to Happy that way,” he said, sounding parental as ever.

Bad mood or not, it was enough to take the wind out of his sails, and Peter tossed his bag in the backseat and crossed around the car to sit shotgun.

“I don’t, I’m sorry. I had a bad day,” he mumbled, and Tony frowned.

“May said you might. Happy did, too, if I’m being honest. I was warned, I’ll give them that. What’s going on, Underoos?”

The softness in his tone made it so hard to be snarky, and Peter sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“What happened to your hands?!”

“I…broke a pen,” Peter whined, and try as he might, Tony burst into laughter. Before long, Peter joined him, looking down at his ink-stained hands, the cut already beginning to heal. He broke off into a cough, turning into his elbow to muffle the tight, itchy coughs that shook his upper body.

“Bubba…that doesn’t sound great,” Tony said softly.

“It’s a cough, it’s not supposed to sound great. It’s 39 degrees outside.”

Tony elected to ignore the snark, starting the car and letting his silence speak for him.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said finally, almost halfway to the apartment.

“You’re allowed to have bad days, kiddo, but nobody likes having their head chewed off for it. I promise you, nobody woke up this morning and thought: ‘Hm, how can I make Peter Parker miserable today?’”

Tony’s theatrics earned him the smallest possible smile from the kid, but it didn’t last long.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“Full of teenaged angst?” Tony supplied, and Peter gave him a look.

“I’m just in a bad mood, I guess. I don’t know.”

Tony pulled the car neatly against the curb, shutting the engine off.

“Well, let’s get you and your bad mood upstairs.”

“You don’t have to stay, I don’t need a babysitter.”

Tony looked up, narrowing his eyes at the petulant teenager sitting next to him on the couch.

“I wanted to stay for dinner, if that’s okay with you?” The teen’s snarky attitude hadn’t let up in the slightest, and he seemed increasingly irritated the longer Tony stayed. Of course, Tony wasn’t stupid enough to even consider leaving before May got off of work. Peter was brilliant, but he was still a kid with a bad habit of sneaking out and doing what he wanted, often hurting himself in the process. They had a brief staring contest, but Tony tried not to smirk as Peter gave in first, looking away with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m going to do homework,” he grumbled, getting up and grabbing his backpack, carrying it over to the kitchen table and plopping it down just a little harder than necessary. Tony returned to his StarkPad, opting to answer some emails instead of poking the teenaged bear sulking in the kitchen.

“God bless you,” Tony said after the eighth round of sneezes in three hours. Peter whined, actually whined, and Tony looked up. “What? You’ve never been bothered by basic manners before.”

“No, it’s the way you say it. Stop saying it like that,” Peter complained, and Tony’s face pinched in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re saying it in that tone,” Peter said, waving his hand as he tried to explain, “the tone like you think I’m sick.”

“Well, that is true, I do think you’re sick.”

“I’m not, though! Fuck, how many times do I have to explain this?! It’s cold outside. I have Asthma. This is not news!”

Tony raised his eyebrows, blinking at Peter in shock.

“What on earth has gotten into you?”

“I’m frustrated!”

“I see that!” Tony exclaimed.

Peter stared at him for a moment, then scoffed and slammed the textbook shut, packing his homework and supplies into his backpack and putting it back by the door.

“I need a minute,” he muttered, then strode quickly into his room, shutting the door behind him. Tony heard the lock click and sighed, leaning his head back against the couch cushions and wondering where the fuck Peter Parker went because this kid? Yeah, this kid was not the Peter he knew.

“He’s in his room, pouting,” Tony said before May could even ask. She rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head at her nephew’s antics. She pulled out her phone and waved it at Tony, unlocking it and starting a text: he can hear everything we’re saying, text is the best option. something’s definitely up, he usually only gets like that when he’s not feeling well.

Tony waited for the message to come through, then frowned, quickly typing a reply: What do we do? Should we worry? He’s being a complete ass. We should learn sign language, btw, could come in handy.

May looked down at her phone and huffed out a soft laugh, seeming to consider the notion. It really wasn’t a bad idea, the more she thought about it. She nodded at Tony with a smile, then turned back to her phone: just ignore it, he’ll come around. he’s definitely fighting off a cold or something, but if he still has the energy to be a little shit, he’s alright. just try not to strangle him in the meantime. we need to start talking, he can definitely hear the phone notifications. he’s too smart for this.

“Where did you want to go eat?” Tony asked as soon as he’d read the text, nodding at May.

“There’s an incredible Thai place nearby?” She suggested, and Tony nodded.

“Sure, sounds good to me! Are you ready to go now?”

“Just about, let me hit the bathroom and then I’ll be ready. If you want to grab Peter, I’ll only be a minute?” She widened her eyes at him as she spoke, giving him a look that quite clearly read “good luck!”

“Yeah, sure, take your time!” Tony answered, keeping his voice casual but cringing at her as he rose from the couch. They went their separate ways, and he stood in front of Peter’s door. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the lock clicked again and the kid opened the door, looking fucking exhausted and annoyed to kingdom come. “Hey, I was just about to get you. We’re going out to eat. You hungry?”

Peter nodded, which Tony took as a win. Without warning, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Tony, pressing his face into the man’s shoulder.

“Oh! Hey, buddy, what’s this for?” Tony asked, rubbing the kid’s back.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m being rude, I just…I’m sorry.” He pulled back, pouting again but this time looking more sad and deflated than annoyed.

“It’s okay, bub, happens to the best of us. C’mon, we’re waiting on Aunt Hottie to pee and then we’ll hit the road.”

“Bless you,” May and Tony said at the same time, exchanging an amused look. The trio had just stepped out onto the sidewalk, and true to form, the change in temperature had the kid snapping into his elbow again.

“I’m fine,” Peter grumbled, and May bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Nobody said anything, sweetie,” she said, keeping her voice intentionally level.

Peter sighed, but didn’t say anything back, allowing her to lead him to Tony’s car.

“Alright, I’m gonna head out, if that’s okay? Dinner was lovely,” Tony said as soon as they got back to the apartment, hugging May and pecking her cheek.

“Of course! Always!” She replied, smiling at him as the pulled away.

“C’mere, kiddo,” Tony said, and Peter allowed the man to wrap him into a tight hug. “Be good, okay? Don’t give your aunt too much trouble,” he said softly, and Peter huffed. “I love you,” Tony said, and he felt the kid’s tense muscles soften slightly.

“Love you, too,” Peter said quietly, face set firmly in a pout as Tony released him, going to grab his StarkPad and keys.

“I’ll see you Friday, Roo. Goodnight!” He waved, then saw himself out, waiting for May to lock the deadbolt before he headed back down the hall.

“Alright, last chance: are you sure you’re okay? You really sound like you’re picking up a cold, Peter,” May said, her voice a mixture of concern and mild exasperation.

“May, I’m fine, I told you that, over and over! I keep saying I’m fine, and nobody’s listening to me! I don’t know what else you want me to say?!” Peter broke into a cough, choking out an indignant noise before he gasped and coughed more. The cough wouldn’t be nearly so annoying if it weren’t so intense, the kind of hard coughs that make you double over no matter how hard you try to control it. He staggered back slightly, reaching out and grabbing the kitchen table for support, face reddening as he continued to hack hard into his elbow.

“Okay, okay, okay,” May said, going over to him and patting his back, frowning as the fit didn’t stop. The familiar crackling congestion was starting to creep into his cough, as well as the tight, strangled squeaking of the wheezing as he fought his swollen, inflamed airways. May glanced over at the clock in the kitchen, biting her lip as she noted that two whole minutes had passed and Peter was showing no signs of being able to stop. “Jesus, baby, are you having an Asthma attack?” She asked, getting increasingly worried. She guided her nephew to sit, clapping his back hard and keeping her eye on the clock. If the fit went on any longer, she’d have to get the nebulizer. Even if he wasn’t already in an attack, a fit like this would throw him into one in nothing flat. “There you go, try and slow it down, you’re alright,” she said soothingly, switching from patting his back to rubbing as the cough started to fizzle out. He gasped desperately, tears trickling down his cheeks from coughing so hard, face still beet red. “Hold on, keep breathing,” she coached, leaving his side to grab a glass and fill it with water.

“‘M fine,” Peter rasped, but gratefully accepted the water, taking slow sips and coughing sporadically to the side, turning away from May.

May stayed quiet, just rubbing his back as he wheezed and struggled to catch his breath. He sniffled and swiped at his eyes, and she wordlessly plucked a tissue from the box on the table and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said breathlessly, voice scratchy. He swiped at his nose, but didn’t dare risk blowing it, both to avoid pissing off his lungs and giving May any more reason to be suspicious.

“I think you should do a treatment before bed,” May said, keeping her tone carefully neutral to hopefully not get the kid worked up. At this point, it didn’t matter what he did or did admit to, she still didn’t like the sound of that fit, much less the fact that it went on for an agonizing almost five minutes straight, poor thing.

“Okay,” Peter grumbled, giving up.

“I’ll go grab that, you stay here,” she said, kissing the top of his head before she padded off. Peter was still in the exact same slumped, sulky position when she came back, except this time he had his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, rubbing at his forehead with a cranky frown. “Okay, here we go,” May said more to herself than Peter, plugging the machine in and getting the treatment set up. She handed him the mouthpiece, and he took it wordlessly, not making a peep except for the slight wheeze as he breathed in the medicated mist.

Peter fought the urge to rub at his eyes, knowing it would only set off more alarm bells in May’s head. The treatment was helping, but he still felt like his lungs had been run through a wringer. His throat was merely scratchy before, but now it all-out burned, and his head pounded from the pressure of coughing so hard. The muscles in his back and shoulders felt like they’d been snapped like a rubber band, and everything just felt tight and achy and wrong.

“Alright, baby, off to bed with you,” May said after the treatment ended.

Peter made a noise of surprise, blinking at her.

“Bed? May, it’s not even ten o’clock!”

“Ah! You heard me, you coughed all night and you look like you got punched in both eyes. Bed,” May said firmly, and Peter groaned.

“But May—”

“No buts. Bed,” May repeated, and Peter slumped. “And don’t even think about sneaking out tonight, because you know Tony’s going to be keeping an eye on the suit,” she finished, and Peter groaned loudly.

“I know!” He snapped, heading into his bedroom.

May sighed, rubbing at her temples. She felt bad for him, he did look utterly wiped out, but that didn’t make his foul mood any easier to handle. Peter was always a loose cannon when coming down with something, either he’d be clingy and emotional or bratty and snarky, and sometimes a mixture of both or even something different entirely. It always seemed to mess with his emotions, though, and she made a mental note to check for a fever after he fell asleep. He just wasn’t himself, and it was so plainly obvious.

“I love you, too,” Peter said, hugging May back. He was still upset, grumpy and irritated in a way he couldn’t snap out of. He watched May retreat in the dark, and glared up at the bottom of the top bunk. He hated being like this, hated being so rude and difficult, but he couldn’t get it to stop. He coughed again, hoping to stay up out of rebellion, if nothing else. Within a few minutes, though, his muscles went lax and his head turned limply to the side, sleep taking over despite his best efforts.

Chapter Text

Thursday, January 19, 2017

May sighed, rolling over in bed and looking at the clock. The bright LED numbers showed that it was just past 2:00 in the wee hours of Thursday morning. She counted on her fingers, fatigue clouding her brain, then pushed the covers off and got up. She rubbed at her eyes with an exhausted yawn, then sighed again as she trudged out of her bedroom.

“Hnngh?” Peter blinked, confused and startled as he felt someone gently shaking him by the shoulder, but everything was too fuzzy as his eyes refused to focus. He coughed before he could even think, arms flailing weakly as he tried to push away whoever was touching him. He continued to thrash and kick, but his movements were clumsy and ineffective, his arms feeling like cooked noodles.

“Shhh, you’re alright, it’s just me,” May soothed, rubbing his upper arm in an attempt to ground him and help him stop looking so frantic and disoriented.  “You’re okay, love, you just need a treatment, it’s okay,” she continued, keeping her voice soft and comforting.

Peter stilled at the familiar voice, blinking more and squinting up at her.

“Mbay?” He rasped, then dissolved back into coughs, this time his mind clear enough for him to throw an arm in front of his face, aiming the congested, tickly coughs into his hoodie sleeve instead of directly in May’s face. A blush rose in his cheeks and he cringed as soon as he finished. “Sorry,” he croaked, and May tutted.

“Oh, goodness,” she fussed worriedly, not even able to get a kick out of the way the congestion in his voice completely bastardized her name.

“‘Mb okay,” Peter said breathlessly, waving a hand weakly at her. “It’s just the weather.”

“Peter, I swear to God I’m going to start making you put a dollar in a jar every time you say that,” May said with a worried smile, stroking his cheek. He didn’t feel warm, which she supposed was good, but he looked pretty bad and was sounding worse and worse as time went on. “Weather or not, you need this,” she said, and she handed him the nebulizer and flicked the machine on.

Peter closed his lips around the mouthpiece and let his eyes slip shut, resting in a half-asleep daze as he did his best to draw the medication into tight, congested lungs.

“You’re wheezing bad, baby, and you’ve been coughing for hours. It hasn’t woken you up?” May asked, and Peter squeezed his eyes tighter and shook his head. May tutted softly, blowing out a worried sigh.

Peter sniffled, and May cringed, leaning down to flick the machine off.

“Hold on, you need to blow your nose,” she said with a dry laugh, the slight amusement a poor cover for deep concern.

“I’b fide,” Peter grumbled, the cranky frown from before reappearing.

“Honey…please? Just humor me?”

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes and instantly regretting it as his head pounded in protest. He forced himself to sit and accepted the bundle of tissues that May offered from the box on his nightstand. His lungs were too twitchy and irritated to withstand much force, but he was still able to give a few gurgling blows into the bundle, wincing in discomfort and disgust.

“Nuh-uh, keep going,” May said when he went to stop after a few half-hearted attempts.

He slumped with a heavy, wheezing sigh, shoulders slouching as he scowled and tossed the bundle in the trashcan by his bed, reaching back to grab a fresh few sheets and try again, this time blowing harder to hopefully get it over with sooner. He sniffled once he was done and raised questioning eyebrows at May.

“Good enough,” May conceded with a shrug, handing him the nebulizer again and resuming the treatment.

Peter laid back down and pouted, but May only melted more because everything from the red, puffy eyes to his slumped position screamed that he just didn’t feel well. His eyelids drooped and he began to drift off against his will, and May didn’t stop him, instead reaching out to hold the nebulizer in place as his hand started to go limp. She combed the loose curls off his forehead and brushed his hair back, feeling him all but dissolve under her touch. Just before he slipped back into sleep, he subconsciously turned his head into her touch, moaning softly in the back of his throat. She rolled her eyes fondly as the slight clinginess reared its head, but didn’t move or make a noise, careful not to disturb him as he fell right back to sleep.

May yawned and stretched, rubbing at her eyes and feeling a wave of déjà vu as she snuck into Peter’s bedroom again, but this time for a different reason. She stopped in the doorway, hesitated, then eyed the clock on his nightstand. It was 6:30, and from the way he sounded, he could definitely use another treatment. She frowned and crept into the room, grabbing a nebule and a clean nebulizer cup. Before she started the treatment, however, she reached for his phone, following through on an executive decision she’d made shortly before getting out of bed again, having listened to him cough and sneeze and struggle all night. She unlocked the phone and turned his alarms off, then locked it and placed it right back where it had been, thankful that she didn’t have to go in to work and could stay home with him for the whole day. She then started the compressor machine with a satisfied smirk, this time doing the treatment as a blow-by to hopefully allow him to sleep through it. Thankfully, he showed no signs of waking up any time soon, so she held the tubing near the wheezy, snoring teen’s face and settled in while the treatment ran its course.

Peter woke up with a weak groan, his voice rusty and crackling. He cringed before he’d even opened his eyes, bracing himself for a swallow so painful it brought tears to his eyes. Even the overcast sky outside was too bright, his head and body ached, his chest burned, and he had to fight to get every wheeze in and out of his swollen, inflamed airways. His lungs were royally pissed, and the rest of his respiratory system—and body, for that matter—followed suit. He wanted nothing more than to roll over in bed and go right back to sleep, but instead he lifted a weak arm to grab at his phone. The screen lit up as he lifted it, and he blinked at the time, his brain taking a few seconds to catch up. It finally registered that it was past 10:00 and he choked, jumping out of bed so quickly he stumbled right back onto it. He coughed hard, but forced himself back up and shuffled as quickly as he could out of his room, down the hall, and into the living room. He found May on the couch, reading a book and looking far too smug and relaxed to not know the time.

“Mbay, I—” he broke off into more coughing, having to grab on to the wall to steady himself as his lungs clenched tight. “I’m late, I—” More coughing followed, and he couldn’t help a whimper as it bubbled out of him from the burning in his chest and the pressure in his head, not to mention the dizziness and terrifying tightness in his lungs. “I have to g—”

May stood, crossing quickly over to him and supporting more of his weight than she should be able to carry. He leaned heavily onto her, unable to help it, and allowed her to half lead, half drag him over to the couch. She turned and rushed away, and Peter closed his eyes, about to let the dizziness take over and pull him under when he felt mist on his face. He gasped desperately at it, hearing nothing but the blood rushing in his ears and the tight, strangled wheezing escaping his lips between deep, crackling coughing fits.

“Stay with me, baby, you’re alright, don’t pass out on me,” May coached, brows furrowed tightly as she reached her free hand out to brace the teen as he tilted dangerously to one side, head rolling limply and lips tinged blue. “There you go, you’re doing so well, love! Keep breathing for me.”

“I’b late, I have to go to school,” Peter whispered finally, still trying to catch his breath as the treatment opened up his lungs.

“Peter, are you nuts?! You must be delirious, honestly! You’re sick, you’re planting your ass on this couch and staying here, do you understand?” May said sternly, forcing eye contact.

Peter stared at her for a second, considering arguing, but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble and nodded. He did really feel like crap, and he knew better than to fight May when she was as worried as she seemed to be.

The treatment ended with a gurgle, and May turned the machine off and disconnected the nebulizer cup, standing up to bring it into the kitchen with the others to be sterilized. Peter started to cough again, and she rushed back to find him struggling to stay upright, both hands bracing himself on the couch but trembling weakly.

“You’re okay, just try to breathe,” she crooned, leaning down to wrap one arm around him and lift him so he was sitting up straight, propped up against the back of the couch. She grabbed a throw pillow and used it to prop up the side of him that wasn’t against the arm of the couch, ignoring his hands trying to push her away.

“You’re—you’re gonna get sick,” Peter croaked in between fits, trying to keep his head turned away from her.

“Oh, so we’re admitting it now, hm?” May teased with a gentle smile, and Peter stuck his lip out at her once his lungs had finally settled down. “That cough is horrible, Peter, we might need to call Bruce to check you out. I don’t like the sound of that at all,” she fussed, frowning at him. She palmed his forehead, chewing on her lip when she felt it to be just the slightest bit warmer than it should be.

“‘Mb okay, s’just a cold, I thidk.” Peter sniffled thickly, cringing as the congestion in his sinuses audibly shifted. “That’s so gross, I’b so sorry.”

“Shhhhh, no apologizing! Do you think you can blow your nose or will it just make you cough again?”

Peter hesitated, then nodded, pointing to the tissue box. He gratefully accepted a few of the soft sheets from May, trying to duck down away from her to blow hard into them. The noise was humiliating, thick and burbling and gross, but he had to admit that the congestion felt better in the tissues than in his fucking face. He sniffled, again, folding the tissues over and getting all of one second to press them back to his face before he crunched down with a rough sneeze, another one tumbling out in the same breath. He continued, but at least the following four sneezes had a breath in between.

“Bless you,” May said sympathetically, sitting beside him and rubbing his back.

“UghH,” Peter groaned before he gasped and started all over again, this time the force snapping his weak upper body forward, his free hand flying out to steady himself and grateful that May was right there to keep him from falling onto his face as he sneezed another eight motherfucking times, already totally and completely over this.

“Oh my God, bless you!!” May exclaimed, sounding so worried that it made Peter’s heart clench.

Peter wanted to apologize, but instead found himself slumping against the back of the couch and heaving desperate, wheezy gasps instead.

“Peter, honey…” May trailed off, swallowing hard and hoping that this wasn’t the beginning of another nightmare like November and December had been. The poor kid had only gotten a few weeks of relative health, and his body definitely wasn’t ready to go through anything like that again so soon. Not to mention that nobody’s hearts were prepared to watch him suffer so much, either.

“I really think it’s just a cold, I just…freaked out over school,” Peter said quietly, and May sighed.

“Baby, you sound bad. Really bad.”

There was a beat of silence, then Peter nodded.

“I know.”

“Do you think you could eat something for me? I can make you some tea to go with it?” May offered, rubbing her nephew’s back in large, soothing circles.

“Yeah, that sounds awesome. Thank you,” Peter said, giving her a small smile.

“Of course, love! What do you want to eat?”

“Do you want more tea?” May asked with a gentle smile, cupping Peter’s jaw and gently brushing her thumb up and down over his cheek.

“No, thank you,” Peter murmured, looking sleepy.

“Would you maybe want to rest your eyes for a little bit?” May asked, and Peter yawned, but shook his head, looking utterly miserable.

“No, I’m okay.”

The sharp contrast between his words and his body language would be funny if it weren’t so difficult to get him to rest. He did eat well, and May was thankful for that, but ever since he finished, he’d been fighting sleep with everything in him. May hummed, then started for the linen closet.

“Here, baby, you’re shivering, and you’re not too warm to have a blanket,” she said kindly, spreading the soft, thick blanket across his lap.

Peter all but purred, snuggling into the plush fabric.

“Th’nk you,” he slurred, and May smiled in amusement, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He closed his eyes as she did so, leaning into her touch on autopilot. May noticed that his eyes were slow to blink back open once she pulled away.

She breathed a soft sigh and sat on the far side of the couch, pulling out her phone. She began a message to Tony, making sure that her phone was turned completely away from Peter before she typed: Hey, just a heads up to not send Happy for Peter later. I kept him home

“Do you want to watch a movie?” She asked, and Peter shrugged and nodded.

“Sure,” he said quietly, but made no attempt to move.

May grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, scrolling through a few options. She needed something nostalgic and comforting, hoping that between the warmth of the blanket and the calm, quiet atmosphere she might be able to get him to fall asleep. Smirking softly, she landed on A Bug’s Life, and smiled wider when she caught Peter’s lips quirking up.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and she gave him a soft, fond look.

“Of course, baby, always.”

Peter cleared his throat softly, aiming a rattling cough downwards, both hands trapped under the mountain of blanket he’d made. May watched the movie, but only halfway, keeping most of her attention on the way Peter seemed slightly more alert, his face scrunching repeatedly in a blank, distracted expression that tugged at her heartstrings. He sniffled a few times, squirming slightly under the blankets. He swallowed hard, then his lips parted, his breath catching and releasing in a choppy, uneven pattern. May leaned forward and grabbed the box of tissues, plucking a few out and offering them wordlessly to the struggling teen.

“Thadks,” he croaked, pulling one arm out of the mound of blanket to accept the offering. He shivered as the room air seeped into his warm bubble of warmth, but sadly his nose pulled rank over getting to burrow into the blanket. He gasped and huffed loudly, chest pumping hard as his lungs sucked air in and pushed it out of their own accord, eyes squinted and face pinched in what he knew was a ridiculous expression. He finally snapped forward with an itchy, desperate sneeze, moaning softly as it tore at his throat and only made his sinuses sting more. Irritated tears welled in his eyes as he felt his body gearing up to torture him for the next few minutes.

“Oh, goodness, bless you,” May said after a few more outbursts, shoulders shaking with a sympathetic laugh.

“You don’t have to say that,” Peter choked out before ducking into the tissues again. “It’s gonna be a second,” he finished after the sneeze ripped out of him, that one coming more from his chest than his nose and making him hiss in pain. At least when he had sneezing fits like this, they tended to come one at a time with a few seconds of recovery time in between, rather than one on top of the other like usual. He appreciated the slow pace since the whole endeavor was always painful and exhausting, but he didn’t like the way it dragged on for minutes at a time.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” May tutted.

Peter shook his head, then aimed another sneeze into a fresh tissue.

“It’s okay,” he got out before he was gasping again, and May frowned, wishing she could do something to make him more comfortable. She couldn’t imagine how miserable that had to be, but the poor kid was no stranger to fits like this, having had them all his life, and seemed to not be terribly bothered by it. He was annoyed, sure, and uncomfortable, but he mostly just had the blasé attitude of someone who had grown up with godawful allergies and a pathetic immune system.

May’s phone chirped, and she looked down at it, opening it to read Tony’s reply, smiling softly at how concerned the man seemed. He asked how Peter was doing and if they needed anything at all. She began typing, casting a sympathetic glance up at Peter before she continued: he’s alright. sneezing his ass off at the moment, but it’ll stop in a few minutes. we’re good over here! his appetite is fine, thankfully, and i’ll order some soup for later. glad i’m off today. he could be worse but he sounds pretty bad and he feels like crap, you can just tell. hoping i can get him to rest, wish me luck

“Who’s that?” Peter asked, looking over nosily before his eyes fluttered and he ducked back into the tissues for another sneeze, then another.

“Tony,” May replied, and Peter perked up, turning to her and swiping the tissues under his nose. “Do you want to talk to him, maybe? He’s worried about you.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically, tossing the tissue in the trash can and grabbing another.

“Yes! Yes, please,” he said with more excitement than he’d shown in days.

May smiled, tapping at her phone until he dial tone rang out on speaker.

“Hey,” Tony replied, and May smiled at the way Peter lit up.

“Hey! Somebody wanted to talk to you,” May said, holding the phone between the two of them so they could both talk.

Peter rubbed at his eyes, looking more exhausted than a human should be able to look, and aimed a sneeze away from May before he turned back with a thick sniffle.

“Dad?” He asked, voice scratchy, giving Tony no time to respond before he was coughing, then sneezing again.

“You sound like crap,” Tony said bluntly, and Peter laughed, then coughed more.

“I’m okay,” he said, even as he shivered roughly and tucked both arms back under the blanket, very quickly running out of energy and able to do little more than turn away from May and aim the continuous stream of coughs and sneezes into his shoulder. “Oh my god, it won’t stop!” He whined, and May frowned.

“Bubba, do I need to call Bruce?” Tony asked, sounding every bit as worried as May felt.

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s just annoying,” Peter insisted, gasping again before his body backed out and he let his breath out in a quiet moan. “Stooop, don’t laugh!” He whined, but May couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry! That was cute,” she said, and Tony joined in, followed by Peter. “Here, honey, just lie down,” she said, patting her lap.

Peter hesitated, wanting to hold out, but nodded and accepting the offer, lying on his side with his head in her lap, facing away from her just in case his body continued to betray him and he couldn’t get a hand up to his face in time.

“You sound tired, kiddo,” Tony said, and Peter shook his head stubbornly, even though the man couldn’t possibly see it.

“I’m fine,” he said around a yawn, and May rolled her eyes.

“Liar,” she said, and Peter frowned.

“I am! It’s just a cold, not the plague,” he countered, his argument negated by a sudden sneeze, then a small string of coughs.

“You sure?” Tony quipped, and Peter huffed a sigh.

“You would know, wouldn’t you? Weren’t you there when it happened?” Peter sassed with a slight smile.

“Oh, you little shit!”

“Peter!” May laughed, covering her mouth to muffle it.

“I can hear you, May. I have half a mind to hang up right now.”

“No, Dad, stay!” Peter said, a bit of a whine to his voice, and they heard Tony breathe a dramatic sigh over the phone.

“Fine. But make another joke like that, and you’re dead.”

“What’s going on, baby? Are you uncomfortable? Is there something I can do?” May asked, stroking Peter’s hair back. It was 4:00 in the afternoon, and Peter was back to pouting around the mouthpiece of another breathing treatment. He’d perked up a little when he’d talked to Tony earlier in the day, but quickly slipped right back into that cranky, listless mood, except this time it was less snarky and more just pitiful. He was still fighting sleep for reasons May couldn’t understand, but every passing hour brought another level of exhaustion and quite frankly she didn’t understand how he was able to keep his eyes open at all. He was flipping between chills and pushing the covers away, as well as worrying stillness followed by uncomfortable fidgeting.

“I’m okay,” Peter said, but his voice was way too soft and thin to be anywhere near convincing.

“What is going on, baby? I’m worried,” May admitted, and Peter frowned.

“No, don’t worry! It’s just a cold,” he murmured, but May shrugged.

“I’m not so sure, you seem…you seem really miserable, Peter.”

“I told you, I’m fine, okay? I promise.”

Peter moaned, letting out a sigh he didn’t even know he’d been holding as he collapsed into bed for the night. His inhalers were taken, treatments done, and he’d made it through the entire day with what felt like the worst cold he’d maybe ever had. Okay, maybe not ever, but it was a bad one. He felt achy and weak and borderline feverish, his body having toed the line all day. His chest felt horrible, and his blocked up nose and sinuses passed up annoying days ago. Most of all, though, he was utterly exhausted, a deep fatigue like molasses running through his veins. He knew it was stupid, but he felt like taking a nap during the day would be like admitting to the severity of the cold, allowing his body to freak out even more. He felt like maybe if he kept his head up, kept telling himself that it was fine, that eventually his body would follow his lead. Mind over matter, right?

“Peter??”

Peter snapped to attention, realizing that May had been calling him.

“Huh?” He croaked, gazing blankly up into her face, expression clouded with worry.

“I asked if you wanted me to stay with you until you fall asleep?” May asked gently, and Peter considered it, but shook his head.

“No, I’m fine,” he said, but something in his voice tugged at May’s gut.

“I’ll just sit here for a minute, okay? For my own peace of mind.”

Peter nodded, out of energy to argue, and slumped into the bed. He turned over onto his stomach, getting comfortable and feeling his eyelids grow heavier than ever.

“I larb you, sweetheart! I hope you feel better tomorrow,” May said softly, and he forced a smile for her, face half smushed into the pillow.

“Larb you,” he managed, eyes starting to roll slightly as he fought sleep for the millionth time so far. This time, however, he knew he was going to lose. May clicked out the lamp, then he felt a warm hand on his back, rubbing in soothing lines and circles, working at knots in his muscles and loosening his lungs from the outside. It felt incredible, and he heaved a wheezy, shuddering sigh of relief.

“Goodnight, baby,” he heard May whisper before sleep pulled him under.

May sat there for a while after he fell asleep, continuing to rub at the tense muscles in his back, and listening to his wheezy, congested breathing even out. He was passed out cold, snoring loudly in the way he only did when he was truly, miserably sick. Finally May eased herself off of the bed, leaning down to plant a kiss to his warm temple before she headed for the door. She paused in the doorway, looking back into the dark room at the shadowy lump under the covers. She lingered for a moment longer, then sighed and retreated to her own bedroom. Just as she was getting settled in, she heard that familiar cough from the other side of the wall and sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

Friday, January 20, 2017

“Hi, good morning! I’m ca—oh, okay.” May blinked, shaking her head in disbelief as she was abruptly put on hold. “God, what a bitch,” May whispered, rolling her eyes as she waited for Valerie Walker to come back to the line. “Hi, good morning,” May tried again, “this is May Parker, I’m calling to let you guys know that Peter won’t be in again today.”

“I’ll mark him absent. If he misses one more day, he’ll need a doctor’s note to come back. The policy also states that—” Ms. Walker drawled in a bored monotone before May cut her off.

“I’m aware, thank you. Have a good one,” May replied tersely before she hung up and rolled her eyes again. There wasn’t a person alive who knew Valerie Walker and didn’t hate her, and how she kept her job in a school of all places was baffling. She huffed an annoyed laugh at how the secretary always felt the need to reiterate the school’s illness policies to her, as if she didn’t know it by heart by now. May shook her head again and sent a quick text to Tony, letting him know that Peter was home again and she’d be leaving for a night shift around 5, give or take. She then set her phone down and all but tiptoed into Peter’s room.

She smiled upon realizing that the lump under the covers seemed to finally be sleeping somewhat peacefully, even if the snores and wheezes coming from the mountain of blankets were loud and congested. Peter had coughed all night long, and while May was tempted to prop him up on some pillows to help him breathe, he seemed to finally be comfortable, so she left him alone. She got the nebulizer machine, setting up the treatment and sitting on the side of his bed with practiced ease, holding the misting tube near his face without waking him up. Her free hand hovered over his face, fingers itching to brush his hair back, but she held back so as to not disturb him. His eyes and nose were an irritated red, lips chapped and parted as he breathed through his mouth to bypass the congestion in his sinuses. May frowned sympathetically as he coughed in his sleep, eyebrows furrowing until his lungs settled and the lines of his face smoothed out. He went right back to snoring, and May shook her head with a fond smile, sitting peacefully with him in the soft morning light as the treatment continued.

May looked up, hearing shuffling footsteps from the hallway. She smiled as Peter stopped right in the middle of the room, rubbing his eyes and looking bleary and confused.

“Good morning,” May said softly, and Peter frowned, crinkling his nose in confusion.

“Huh?”

May laughed, getting up from the couch to go over to him. She felt his forehead, then cupped his cheeks and brought him closer so she could kiss his forehead, both for a more accurate temperature check and for comfort.

“Still a bit warm. It’s almost noon, baby, you slept in,” May explained, and Peter only looked more perplexed.

“Noon?” He croaked, and May laughed.

“Yes, noon, as in midday, twelve o’clock, you know. Are you okay?” She asked, her tone teasing but an obvious undercurrent of concern breaking through.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I just didn’t mean to sleep that late.” Peter rubbed at his eyes again, looking pathetically childlike between the eye rubbing and his lower lip pushed out in a confused, cranky pout.

“Seems like you needed it, though. C’mon, let’s get a treatment going and then we’ll get some food into you,” May said, stroking a stray curl off of his face before she led him over to the couch. He sat down and yawned, then rubbed at his forehead with a pained wince. May got the treatment started, then took over rubbing his warm temples in small circles as he breathed in the medication.

“Head hurts?” May guessed, and Peter nodded, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. “Here, lie back,” she instructed, helping him settle against the couch cushions. She crossed around to the back of the couch, placing both hands on either side of his head and guiding it back to rest against the top of the couch cushion. He swallowed hard, wincing around the nebulizer mouthpiece, and May frowned sympathetically. She braced her fingers on either side of his face, then brought her thumbs to meet right between his eyebrows.

“Mmph,” Peter moaned as she applied gentle pressure and brought her thumbs along the curve of his brow bone, the pressure behind his eyes already beginning to yield.

“Don’t go getting another sinus infection on me now,” May said, laughing softly at his reaction as she continued to rub in steady outward strokes from between his eyes, then up and out towards his temples. She’d always had a secret talent for massage therapy, and had even considered making it a career before she settled into nursing. She’d taken classes and everything, but at the end of the day, nursing was her calling. However, between her knowledge of anatomy from being a nurse, the courses she’d taken before nursing school, and years of experience caring for a constantly-sick Peter and a husband who loved to overwork himself, May Parker could give one killer massage.

“Th’k you,” Peter mumbled around the nebulizer mouthpiece as May moved on to focus her pressure on either side of his nose, gliding her thumbs across his cheekbones and down towards his jaw. Peter melted like putty in her hands as she continued gently working her hands across his face, breaking up the congestion and easing the swelling in his nose and sinuses for the first time in days. She alternated between his forehead and his cheek bones, then moved up to rub his temples in small circles again, before gliding her hands down the sides of his face towards his jaw. She repeated that a few times, then moved down to the swollen lymph nodes under his jaw. There she applied more pressure, smoothing her hands down his neck and shoulders a few times before she patted his chest a few times and he opened his eyes.

“Is that better?” May asked, her voice soft and kind, and Peter nodded, looking all but delirious as he lifted his head again, swaying slightly like his head was too heavy for his neck to hold up. The treatment ended with a gurgle, and May turned the machine off and took the nebulizer mouthpiece. She headed to the kitchen, keeping her back intentionally turned as she heard a wheezy gasp from the couch.

“Ew, oh by god!” Peter complained after a particularly rough-sounding sneeze, before he was gasping again to continue with another handful.

“Bless you, blow your nose,” May said, laughing as the teen groaned in disgust.

“Ew, ew, ew, I’b so sorry,” Peter croaked before he grabbed a handful of tissues, blowing his nose into them with a thick, burbling noise that made May cringe in sympathy—that just sounded horrifically uncomfortable.

May kept her back turned, knowing how weird Peter always was about stuff like this. She frowned, spinning around at the sound of a rattling cough. She paused for a moment, trying to give him at least the illusion of privacy, before she shook her head and rushed over to where he was almost doubled over, hacking hard into the tissues pressed tightly to his face.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” May soothed, patting his back with a cupped hand and using her other arm to support his chest. “There you go, get that up, good job,” she coached as she heard the cough become actually productive. “Ohhh, Peter,” May hummed sympathetically as he sputtered and tried to get his lungs under control, face flushed and eyes watery.

“Sorry,” Peter whispered, slumping back against the couch cushions after he’d wiped at his face with the tissues and tossed them in the trashcan. He rubbed at his eyes again, this time looking more miserable than grumpy. He coughed again, then swallowed with another pained expression.

“Shhh, no sorries, you know that,” May soothed as she rubbed his chest in comforting circles. Using her other hand to brush his hair off his forehead, she leaned down and kissed his temple, frowning as his skin felt warmer than it had earlier.

“It’s so gross,” Peter whined, and May had to laugh at that.

“Honey, I’m a nurse, if you had any idea what I see on the daily, you’d know why a little bit of snot isn’t a big deal.”

Peter scrunched his face up at the mere mention of the substance, and May giggled again.

“It’s okay, I promise. Doesn’t faze me.”

“Still gross,” Peter mumbled, and May rolled her eyes.

“You’d think that you of all people would’ve gotten used to it by now, hm?” She teased, and Peter squinted his eyes at her with a frown.

“Dude."

“Okay, love, this is getting ridiculous,” May said finally, having listened to hours of Peter struggling with his congested airways. She got up and strode quickly into the bathroom.

Peter threw his head back moodily against the couch cushions, having to open his mouth to breathe. His head felt like it had been shrink-wrapped, and his lungs felt heavy and mushy and disgusting. He listened to May’s footsteps return and peeked one eye open to see her beginning to unscrew the lid of the Vick’s she always kept around for his frequent colds, allergies, asthma, infections…you name it. He hadn’t even seen the familiar jar since before the bite, and to his shock, before she’d even completely unscrewed the lid, he felt it: the sharp prickling at the base of his skull, all of his hair standing on end as his body screamed danger, danger, danger and he found himself reeling back reflexively.

“No!” He shouted suddenly, scrambling away from the offending ointment, bringing an arm up to cover his face.

“Peter, what—okay, okay!” May took a few large steps back as her nephew gagged suddenly, then began to cough, his face and neck flushing deeply. “Honey, what is happening?!”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Peter said, then dissolved into another coughing fit, and May nodded in shock.

“Okay, okay, I’m not going to put it on you, you’re alright,” she soothed, immediately going to put the jar back. She came back into the room and headed straight over to the kitchen sink, where she washed her hands over and over. Even though she hadn’t touched the substance, the shit always got everywhere so she knew there must be some on the lid. “Am I good to come back?” She asked finally, taking a few cautious steps towards Peter.

Peter hesitated, then nodded, looking confused and upset as he dropped his arm by his side and leaned on the back of the couch, exhausted and scared by the intensity of the reaction.

“I don’t know what happened,” he whispered, and May frowned, shaking her head.

“I don’t—OH!” The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening.

“What??”

“Spiders hate mint!”

There was a long silence, then Peter’s jaw dropped. He brought a hand to the back of his neck, nodding slowly.

“So that’s why…”

“Your Peter Tingle went off,” May finished, and Peter scrunched his face at her.

“Stop calling it that!” He griped, then immediately had to turn into his elbow to aim a strong volley of sneezes into his sleeve.

“Ohh, I’m so sorry,” May said with a guilty cringe, eyeing the blotchy redness on his neck. “Here, sit down and I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

Peter nodded weakly, all but collapsing back into the couch cushions and huddling under the blanket while May went to start the kettle.

“Here we go,” May said, and Peter blinked, realizing he must’ve zoned out because there May stood, holding out a steaming mug of tea.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking it and closing his eyes as the first sip felt like heaven on his burning throat. He felt the couch shift as May sat next to him, stroking his hair back as he sipped steadily at the tea, allowing it to warm his chest and soothe his throat, the steam wafting up into his face and unclogging his nose, as well.

“You should try to rest a bit,” May offered after he leaned forward and placed his empty mug on the coffee table, grabbing the box of tissues while he was at it.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said half-heartedly, blowing his nose thickly before he tossed the tissues with a sniffle, revealing that his efforts were for naught as he was still hopelessly stuffed up. He curled up against the couch, snuggling into the blanket and just starting to get comfortable when his breath caught in his chest and he was coughing hard before he could think.

“Oh, Honey,” May crooned sympathetically, wishing for the millionth time in Peter’s life that she could take it all away. She reached out and tugged her nephew closer, wrapping an arm snugly around him and hoping to help him get comfortable enough to sleep.

May felt Peter jump at a sudden knock on the door and frowned worriedly. Normally Peter would’ve picked up on approaching footsteps long before they could get to the door, but he had spent the entire day in a cold-ridden fog, and had zoned out especially hard for the past hour. His fever was up slightly, not high by any means but just enough to make him all groggy and out of it.

Peter, for his part, had forgotten how miserable “just a cold” could be, and longed to cash in on the nap he’d so adamantly refused the day prior as he turned to fix bleary eyes on the door. He’d tried to sleep, but his lungs wouldn’t shut up for longer than thirty seconds at a time, so he’d settled for a weird half-asleep daze.

“Let me up, baby,” May said softly, and she gently shifted Peter against the arm of the couch and got up to answer the door. “Hey!” May greeted with a wide smile, accepting a hug and kiss on the cheek from Tony.

“Hey, yourself!” Tony said with a kind smile before he turned his gaze over to Peter and his face softened. “Hey, bubba, still not feeling great, huh?”

Peter shrugged, looking irritable and forlorn, but mostly just tired.

Tony turned to May, cocking an eyebrow, and she shook her head with a sigh.

“Looks like just a nasty cold, but it’s giving him hell, don’t let him fool you,” she said, and Tony huffed a laugh.

“Fool me? Please,” he quipped with a cocky wink at her before he strode confidently over to Peter. “How’s the weather treating you, Roo?” He asked with a teasing smirk, ruffling the kid’s hair and frowning slightly at the low fever he felt on him as Peter huffed petulantly.

“You dod’t have to rub it id,” he grumbled crankily, and Tony cringed at the congestion in his voice.

“Okay, how about you leave the snot here and then we’ll leave, hm?” He said, grabbing the tissue box and holding it out to Peter, who made no move to take it, pouting crankily. Tony looked to May, who threw her hands up and shrugged.

“He’s yours now, good luck,” she joked, and Peter wilted.

“I’b sorry, I just…it wod’t eved help,” he moaned, pulling his arms out of the blanket to rub at his eyes, and Tony made a mental note to get this kid a nap immediately.

“He does have a point there, it’ll just come back. Trust me, he’s tried,” May vouched, and Tony frowned sympathetically.

“Alright, then, I guess you can bring the snot with you if you’re so attached to it,” he joked, and Peter rolled his eyes.

“He’ll come around,” May said quietly to Tony as he approached her, looking affronted by Peter’s attitude. “He was fine earlier, he’s just not feeling well and trying to keep the bravado up,” she finished in a whisper.

“I cad hear you” Peter said from the couch, and May smiled.

“Yeah, well, not much I can do about that, is there?” She replied before mouthing “sign language” to Tony, who nodded emphatically. “Okay, he has everything he needs at the tower already, um…next treatment is at 4:00, you guys should be home by then. I’ve been doing them every four hours to try and keep it at bay, but he’s still having a really hard time.”

Tony tutted softly, looking over at the grumpy lump on the couch.

“Will do, I’ll take good care of him, I promise,” he swore, and May smiled.

“I know you will.”

“C’mon, kiddo, let’s hit the road,” Tony said, and Peter tried his best to hide a shiver as he pushed the blanket off and stood. “Get your coat on,” Tony prompted after Peter put on shoes and made a move towards the door.

“I’b just goigg to the car,” Peter countered, and Tony rolled his eyes.

“Okay first of all, you sound absolutely ridiculous. Second, it’s just barely in the forties outside and you sound bad enough already. Coat,” he instructed, and Peter huffed a sigh and wriggled into the thick coat he’d plucked off the hook.

“That’s dot eved how that works,” he said petulantly, and Tony shook his head.

“I’ll be more willing to listen to you when you can speak. MJ was right, you do sound like Squidward.”

Peter groaned, but allowed May to hug him.

“I larb you. Be good, stop being such a grouch,” she said, kissing the top of his head.

“Larb you, too,” he said, then broke away and turned into his sleeve to cough hard before he allowed Tony to guide him out the door.

“Bye, May! I’ll call you later!!”

Peter barely heard the rest of the conversation as the two exchanged goodbyes, instead having to lean against the wall outside the apartment door as his lungs spasmed.

“Jesus, bubba, you sure this is just a cold?” Tony asked worriedly, rubbing the kid’s back firmly through all the layers.

“Yes. Always…bad like…like this,” Peter gasped out when the fit finally stopped.

Tony gave him a moment to catch his breath, then led him down to the ground floor, feeling his heart clench as Peter visibly recoiled when the cold wind hit him.

“I know, kiddo, I’m parked right there, see? Ohh, bubba…” Tony felt helpless as the kid turned away from him and snapped forward into his hands, sneezing sharply more times in a row than any person should ever have to deal with. “Here, baby,” Tony said once the fit finally passed, reaching into his pocket and producing a few clean tissues he’d had the foresight to grab from upstairs.

“Thadks,” Peter whispered, taking them gratefully. He actually did blow his nose that time, and Tony just stood and rubbed his back, trying his best not to hover too much when the kid was so clearly not himself.

“Alright, here we go,” Tony narrated as he unlocked the car, Peter crossing to the passenger’s side to scramble into it and buckle his seatbelt, breathing a wheezy sigh of relief as the heater kicked on. “I’m sorry you feel so crappy, buddy,” Tony said sadly. He noted Peter’s flushed cheeks, and while it could’ve been from the cold wind or the sneezing fit he’d just had or even the coughing fit he’d had only a few minutes prior, Tony found himself instinctively reaching out to palm his forehead. “Sorry,” he said softly as Peter shivered at the cold touch. “You’re running a fever, bubba.”

“I know,” Peter sighed, leaning back against the headrest and allowing Tony to brush his hair back a few times.

Tony looked up suddenly, getting a weird feeling. Peter kept his eyes closed, relaxed by Tony’s hand carding through his curls, so Tony didn’t stop even as he looked around, suddenly alert. The man’s eyes narrowed as he noticed a figure standing a few yards away from the car, camera held limply in his hands and jaw hanging open in shock. Tony made eye contact, holding his gaze through the car windshield for a few beats before he pressed his lips into a tense line. His attention was jerked away, however, by Peter breaking off into another coughing fit.

“Ooh, okay, you’re alright,” he soothed, surprised by the sudden and intense outburst. He reached over the kid to loosen the seatbelt so he could lean him forward slightly, patting his back. He kept his focus entirely on Peter, starting to get that familiar knot of worry in his gut as the poor kid just kept coughing. Peter leaned and folded his arms against the dash, resting his head on them and coughing hard, poor baby. “Y’okay? Do you need a treatment?” Tony asked, and Peter shook his head, his lungs giving a few more attempts to turn themselves inside out before he was left breathless and gasping. He dropped his arms in favor of pressing his forehead against the dash, wheezing tightly. “Here, Roo, slow sips,” Tony said after he cracked open a bottle of water. Peter took it with shaky hands and complied, then sat back against the seat, looking even more exhausted than before. The boy’s lungs under control and crisis averted, Tony turned his attention back to the man on the sidewalk, this time conspicuously snapping pictures. Tony cursed in his head. “Alright, baby, let’s head home,” he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral as he slowly lowered his hand and put the car in gear. He couldn’t take his eyes off the strange man as he passed, getting a weird feeling in his gut as he focused in on the camera now hanging around his neck. Fuck.

“Deep breaths, Roo, I’ll be right back, gotta make some calls,” Tony said, patting Peter on the shoulder and leaving him to breathe in the treatment as he headed down to the lab to whip out his phone in private. He pulled up the security footage of the living room, keeping an eye on Peter as he obediently took the medication.

“Hello?”

“Pep? Hey, we might have…a situation.”

Tony took a deep breath as he re-entered the living room, feeling moderately confident that the matter was handled. After all, if anyone could keep some creeper’s photos from getting plastered all over the internet, it would be Pepper Potts. She could make no guarantees, of course, what with the way information spread—especially gossip. She did, however, sound fairly certain that the photos could be intercepted.

“Sorry, Underoos, something came up. We’re all good now. Would you maybe want to go lie down for a bit?”

Peter looked up at his mentor (father? Fuck, his brain was too fuzzy for this) and shook his head firmly.

“No, I’m fine,” he murmured, then coughed again.

“Hm. At least try to be convincing,” Tony said, and Peter fixed him with a look.

“I’m not in preschool, Dad, I don’t need a stupid nap,” Peter said, and Tony noticed that this time it was more whining than snark, which was terribly ironic but whatever.

Tony narrowed his eyes at the kid, then nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he said after a slight pause, and Peter just stared at him.

“Okay?” The kid repeated, and Tony nodded, shrugging.

“Yeah, okay. Look, kid, if you say you’re fine, then you’re fine. Let’s head down to the lab, then,” Tony suggested casually, not missing the way Peter’s face pinched in confusion. He turned to leave, hiding a smirk as he heard Peter scramble up off the couch to catch up with him. He hoped that his plan to beat the boy at his own game would work, and he wouldn’t end up just making everything worse. He led the way down to the lab, intently ignoring the stream of coughs and sniffles that followed him. He noticed that Peter made a beeline for the cooler, grabbing a bottle of water before he sat at his station. Tony forced himself to not react as they got to work, a steady soundtrack of throat clearing, sniffling, coughing, and sneezing fits dragging on as Tony waited for the kid to crack.

“Hey, Roo, come see if you can figure this out,” Tony said, looking up and feeling only a little bit guilty as he caught sight of the kid’s pale face, bright red eyes and nose, dark under-eye circles, and parted lips.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Peter said, sniffling back his runny nose and gracelessly stumbling over to Tony’s lab station. “What’s up?” He asked, brushing his sleeve against his nose and very nearly making Tony give himself away with a laugh.

“See that? It keeps shorting and I need to figure out a way to re-route it,” Tony said, only lying a little bit. The annoying little piece of wiring in his suit was shorting, but he definitely didn’t need help fixing it. He felt bad as the kid was clearly uncomfortable, squirming and sniffling and trying not to leak all over the lab table. The illness-induced soundtrack was embarrassing enough from afar, but being inches away from Tony’s face made it so, so much worse.

“Um,” he started, clearing his throat as quietly as he could. “Uh, I guess you could, um…” Peter blinked, willing his eyes to focus. Usually he adored being invited over to work on a project with his dad, but this time he wanted nothing more than to run away and hide in a dark room with nothing but a box of tissues to keep him company. He rubbed his eyes and blinked again, shaking his head slightly to try and clear it and dragging his sleeve briskly under his running nose again, gross.

“…well, I’ll be damned,” Tony muttered softly after the kid leaned over and fixed the short like it was nothing, even while he was clearly in the throes of a full-blown snot-fest. The man had to admit that he was impressed—he hadn’t been expecting Peter to figure that out with how sick he clearly was, but the kid thought quickly on his feet, Tony had to give him that. He looked up to find Peter beaming proudly at him, but the smile didn’t last long.

“Um, could we…could we maybe go upstairs? And…and maybe watch a movie or something? If you want, I mean,” Peter stuttered, pulling his arms tightly around himself and aiming a wet cough into his shoulder.

Tony looked at the clock, then back at Peter, noting that the teen had made a valiant effort and did make it over an hour and a half. The two made intense eye contact, and an entire conversation passed without words. Peter knew that Tony knew, and Tony knew that Peter knew that Tony knew, and so on and so forth. Tony decided to leave the “I told you so” unsaid, taking pity on the feverish teen shivering and chewing on his lip in front of him, squirming uncomfortably under his steady gaze.

“Yeah, buddy, of course!” Tony said carefully, noting the relief in Peter’s red, watery, glassy eyes. The bags under his eyes were deep and puffy and bruised, and the poor kid looked fucking horrible. Leave it to Peter to catch an absolute whopper of a cold so soon after getting over the illness from the holidays. Tony had seen a lot of colds in his day, and lived through his fair share, but whatever virus Peter picked up looked to be single-handedly the nastiest cold the man had ever seen. He left his station just the way it was, not even bothering to clean up—he didn’t have anything dangerous out, and he had no concerns about F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s security measures. Plus, there was something a bit more pressing stealing his attention, so he just put a steadying hand on his son’s back and led him back to the penthouse.

By the time they got upstairs, Peter was making that grunting noise in the back of his throat that he always did when he was feeling so bad he couldn’t fucking stand it anymore, looking inches away from bursting into tears right there. He was completely and utterly wiped out, and the crankiness and misery had him teetering on an exhausted meltdown.

Tony frowned worriedly at him, guiding him to the couch and sitting next to him. He steeled himself for the breakdown, but it never came, and Peter just curled against Tony’s side instead, his wheezy breaths shuddering slightly as the fatigue and malaise knocked him like a pebble against a beach.

“Got anything you want to watch?” Tony asked softly, and Peter shook his head quickly. “Okay, bubba, Star Wars it is.”

Peter sucked in a wet wheeze, then began to tremble, aiming squeaky, rattling sobs into Tony’s shirt.

“Hey, hey, shhhh, it’s okay,” Tony soothed, rubbing his back and frowning deeply.

“I-I’b s-sorry, I’ve b-b-beed so—” he cut himself off with a string of thick coughs, bringing one fist up to rub at his eye.

“Shhhhh, hey, don’t you worry about that, it’s water under the bridge. It’s okay, baby, I promise you nobody’s upset. Just relax, I’m not going anywhere, shh.” Tony reached around to feel the boy’s forehead and winced. “You’re running kinda hot there, bub. If that doesn’t come down soon I’m gonna have to call Brucey up here.”

Peter shook his head, fighting a yawn and failing.

“I-It’s fide, I just…haved’t beed sleepigg,” he admitted, and Tony smiled softly.

“Well, yeah, I gathered that. For someone so smart, you’d think you’d have a better handle on how the immune system works,” Tony teased gently, and Peter laughed wetly.

“Yeah, well…” He sniffled thickly, accepting the tissues Tony offered and sitting up straight to blow his nose. “I guess I always think that if I don’t give in, it won’t get bad? I don’t know, it’s stupid, I’m just…stupid, I know.”

“Hey, don’t say that! You are the farthest thing from stupid, Underoos. You just need to learn when to give yourself a goddamn break. Trust me, kid, you’re going to keep getting sick like this if you don’t let go.”

Peter nodded with another jaw-cracking yawn, settling back against Tony’s side, too tired to even try to put up a fight any longer. He rubbed lazily at his nose, groaning in irritation as he had to curl away from Tony.

“Bless you, kid,” Tony said, chuckling softly, unable to help himself as the poor kid’s breathing hitched loudly, little gasps and moans escaping in between utterly exhausted-sounding sneezes.

“S-stop!” Peter whined before he started up again, and Tony tried hard not to laugh, but he couldn’t. The little noises just sounded so pathetic, all desperate and ticklish.

“I’m so sorry, buddy, I’m not laughing at you, I swear, I just—” Tony collapsed into another fit of laughter after a particularly loud moan, then another handful of weak, kittenish sneezes. The fit went on for a few minutes, and by the end of it Tony was looking forward to being able to skip his next ab workout because the laughter had done a number on him just then.

“That…happens when I’m tired sometimes,” Peter mumbled, pressing his face into Tony’s chest.

“What? The sneezing or the little baby noises?” Tony asked, laughing more.

“Both,” Peter admitted, cheeks flushed deeply. “I can’t help it, I’ve tried. It’s like my body takes over and it just…happens, I don’t know. It’s embarrassing. One time Flash heard it and—” Peter stopped short, cutting himself off and clamping his mouth shut. Tony tensed, narrowing his eyes, laughter stopping abruptly.

“He what, kiddo?”

Peter shook his head quickly, keeping his mouth firmly shut.

“Peter Benjamin,” Tony said, his voice soft but unyielding, “what did he do, bubba?”

“He…” Peter wheezed out a crackling sigh, covering his face with his free hand and groaning, “he said it sounded like I was in a porno.”

Tony’s face scrunched in disgust.

“What the fuck?! God, that little asshole is such a creep. That’s weird, Peter, and has absolutely nothing to do with you. And as someone who’s watched my fair share of porn, and even dabbled in making some mysel—”

“Ewww!! Daaad!”

“Okay, okay, I’m just saying, that’s…objectively not even accurate, not to mention fucking weird. He sounds like a real pervert. I heard what he called you, when we had our meeting with Morita.”

Peter blushed hard, refusing to meet Tony’s gaze.

“Buddy, I need you to tell me when this stuff happens. Like hell if I’m gonna let some snotty kid treat my son like that. And I don’t mean you, you’re a different kind of snotty kid,” Tony said, quirking a smile. Peter rolled his eyes and groaned, flushing even more.

“Just…okay, can we just…can we stop talking about this, please?” He said quietly, looking dangerously tired, and Tony nodded, getting settled and resuming the movie.

“Yeah, bubba, lie back down.” Tony wrapped his arm around Peter, resisting the urge to laugh as the kid promptly passed right the fuck out on his chest, runny nose and all, drooling into his shirt. This kid would surely be the death of him, and Tony couldn’t bring himself to mind.

Chapter Text

“Awww,” Pepper breathed, setting her bag down and melting at the sight in front of her. “Haven’t seen this in a while!”

Tony nodded, absently rubbing Peter’s back as he slept.

“Yeah, is it bad that I kinda miss it? Not him being sick, not at all! But I kinda missed my octopus child,” Tony joked, and Pepper laughed.

“I don’t think it’s bad at all. I understand what you mean.”

“Jesus!!!” Tony exclaimed, jumping out of his skin at a loud crack of thunder outside. “Shhh, it’s okay, buddy, just thunder, go back to sleep,” Tony soothed to a groggy and startled Peter. The kid coughed hard for a bit, then settled back into Tony’s chest and went right back to snoring wheezily.

“Tony,” Pepper said, her voice a warning.

Tony looked to his left, following her gaze, and cursed as he saw a familiar silhouette outside the window.

“Fuck, can you go intercept that? I don’t know if he’s capable of being quiet, but let’s find out.”

Pepper nodded, taking off in a hurry to meet Thor on the landing pad and, hopefully, manage to get him to not wake Peter.

“Thor!” Pepper said, out of breath from running down. She smiled as Thor grinned at her, bowing slightly and taking her hand to kiss the back of it. Her face dropped sharply, however, when she caught sight of a smirking figure behind Thor.

“Worry not, Loki has sworn to behave,” Thor assured, sending a pointed look back at the God of Mischief, so only raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “I was looking for Stark, I’ve brought a gift,” Thor said, brandishing an engraved wooden box.

“That’s sweet, thank you! I’ll bring it up to him,” Pepper said, holding her hands out for the box with a kind—if a bit tense—smile.

“Is Stark here?” Thor asked, oblivious to Pepper’s awkward shift.

“Um, yes…yes, he is. I…now isn’t really a great time?” Pepper cringed at Thor’s crestfallen face. “It’s Peter, he’s sick,” she confessed, and Thor’s face pinched further.

“Young Peter Stark is not well? Again?” Thor sounded concerned, and Pepper sighed sadly.

“Yeah, not like last time, but…yeah. He’s asleep, we just didn’t want to wake him up.”

“I assure you, I won’t disturb the young Stark, and neither will my brother,” Thor said, shooting another look back at Loki with a cocked eyebrow. “Correct, brother?”

“Of course,” Loki shrugged, looking only mildly interested in the conversation but mostly just bored. “Stark decided to procreate? I’m shocked,” Loki deadpanned, but actually seemed surprised.

“Um, no, Peter’s…Tony’s in the adoption process,” Pepper confessed, kicking herself for even engaging at all.

“Adoption? How noble.”

Pepper winced again, then just turned and started for the elevators, the two gods following close on her heels.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Tony looked up over the back of the couch and held his finger up to his lips, giving the small group an intense stare, as if daring anyone to make a single noise. When he caught sight of Loki, however, his face twisted.

“No. Fuck no, get out,” Tony said from behind gritted teeth, looking frantically over at Pepper and shaking his head at her, a question in his eyes.

“I don’t know, Tony, I did my best,” Pepper sighed, throwing her hands up.

“It’s alright, Stark, my brother means no harm, I swear. I come only to deliver a gift.” Thor lifted the box up with an eye-crinkling smile, and Tony just blinked at him. He opened the box, revealing a curved, dark amber glass bottle with a label on it that Tony couldn’t read but certainly looked fancy. “It’s called Ioflejiper. It’s an Asgardian aged liquor, very rare but very, very good. It is not for mortal men, but I figured the young Stark would be able to handle it. I hope I’m not too late, I wanted him to be able to celebrate the adoption.” Thor beamed wider, and Tony just blinked again.

“I…thank you, it’s very much appreciated, but uh…he’s only fifteen, Thor.”

“Yes, quite young indeed! That’s why I brought him Ioflejiper instead of Uasnufrard. The children tend to favor Ioflejiper, it’s sweeter, though it’s only given on special occasions. This is a most special occasion for the young Stark, is it not?” Thor nodded proudly, and Loki rolled his eyes.

“No, I meant…um, never mind, thank you! I appreciate it, Thor, really. Would you mind maybe setting it over there? I kinda have my hands full,” Tony said with an awkward smile, watching as Thor lumbered over to the kitchen and set the box down.

“I heard he is ill again, my apologies,” Thor said as he walked back over about as quietly as Thor could do anything.

“He’ll be alright,” Tony said, pressing his lips together as Peter chose that time to cough in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open as he scrambled to sit up and duck into his elbow to sneeze roughly five times before he coughed more, then settled with a wheezy gasp.

“It’s…disgusting,” Loki said, face pinched, and Tony looked up with a sharp glare from where he sat close to Peter, rubbing his back as he struggled to catch his breath.

Peter whipped around, eyes widening as he caught sight of the two gods standing in the middle of the room.

“Thor!! And Mr.—Mr. Loki, sir.” Peter swallowed hard, blinking and looking repeatedly between the two gods and Tony.

“You don’t have to call him that, Pete,” Tony said, biting back a smile.

“No, no, go on,” Loki said with a smug smile.

“I can’t believe this!!! I’ve read about you, and you’re just…you’re just so cool,” Peter gushed, voice dropping to a whisper by the end.

“Buddy, what you’ve read isn’t entirely accurate. See that? That’s a grade-A asshole right there,” Tony said to Peter, jerking a thumb at an offended-looking Loki. “He’s nothing like what you’ve read in your mythology books.”

“You wound me, Stark,” Loki quipped dryly.

Before Tony could shoot back, Peter dissolved into a coughing fit, the fit going on for much, much longer than Tony was remotely comfortable with.

“It’s okay, Pete, breathe, try to breathe,” Tony coached, face pinched in worry as he clapped the kid’s back to no avail. Peter’s face flushed a deep maroon, but the cough just wouldn’t stop for minutes before finally he gasped in a rattling wheeze and managed to hang on to it. “You’re okay, you’re alright,” Tony soothed, switching over to rubbing large circles. His watch vibrated against his wrist, and he glanced at it and cursed softly. “Okay, I really need to get some medicine and food into this kid so, thank you very much, Thor, that was very kind of you. Loki…” Tony trailed off, trying to think of something nice to say and coming up dry.

“It was a pleasure, as always, Stark,” Loki said in a sickly sweet voice, with a tight smile that clearly bordered on a sneer.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“It was something, alright. Pepper will see you two out. Thank you again, Thor,” Tony said with a forced smile, giving the god a small wave as Pepper led them into the elevator. “Christ on a carousel,” Tony breathed as soon as the elevator doors closed, rubbing at his forehead. “I need ibuprofen just looking at them.”

Peter giggled softly, coughing again afterwards.

“I like them,” he said with an innocent shrug, and Tony shook his head.

“You would, wouldn’t you? You’re too good, Roo.”

Peter answered him with a sneeze, then two more to follow.

“Bless you, kiddo! What’s not good is the temperature alert I just got, so let’s get a treatment and some dinner into you, hm? Does grilled cheese sound okay?”

Peter nodded, and Tony got up with a grunt that made Peter laugh and cough again.

“Laugh it up, Underoos, and see if I won’t put Star Wars under a parental block.”

“Daaad!!”

“He okay?” Pepper asked, keeping her voice down as Tony strode over to the couch and sat down.

“Out like a light,” Tony said, and Pepper smiled.

“Poor baby,” she hummed, and Tony nodded, scrubbing at his face with his hands.

“Fever’s still just over 101. He’s putting on a good front, but he’s miserable, you can see it in his eyes.”

“Awwh,” Pepper tutted softly.

As if on cue, Tony’s phone rang sharply, and he glanced at the caller ID and answered it quickly, not wanting the loud trill to wake Peter up.

“May!” Tony greeted, smiling.

“Hey, I just wanted to check in while I have a few minutes. How’s it going?”

“He’s out cold, has been for about an hour. I just left the room, I kept waiting for him to wake up but he’s really down for the count, apparently.”

“Holy hell! Either he finally crashed or you have some sort of voodoo magic going on if you got him asleep at what, 10:00? Without a fight?”

Tony laughed.

“A little bit of both, I think. He’s been trying to fight it all evening, but he just keeps falling asleep, poor kid. That said, I’ll never deny having superpowers,” Tony said with a smirk that May could hear over the phone. “I brought him down to the lab, figured two could play at the ‘I’m fine’ game. It worked like a charm, by 6:00 he was asking to go back upstairs.”

May tutted.

“Poor baby. I must say, though, I’m impressed. How’s he doing otherwise?”

“He’s alright, I guess. Snotty and miserable, and the asthma’s giving him hell, but I’m keeping up with the treatments like you said. His fever broke 101 earlier and hasn’t come down since, but it’s holding steady, at least. He’s definitely doing better than last time, that’s for damn sure, but he could still get anything he wants out of me with one look, easily.”

“Can’t he do that all the time, though?” May teased with a laugh, and Tony pouted dramatically.

“That’s…classified.”

“Mm, right. Well, I can’t stay long, we’re slammed tonight. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything’s going alright.”

“It is, he’s doing fine. If anything, your biggest worry should be that we’ll coddle him too much,” Tony said with a smile, and May laughed.

“Nah, go for it. He deserves it. Alright, goodnight, Tony! I’ll call you when I get off tomorrow,” May said, and Tony exchanged goodbyes with her before he hung up.

“Well,” Tony sighed, “I should probably hop in the shower while I can.”

“Ugh, wait, let me go first! You take forever,” Pepper groaned, and Tony smirked.

“First of all, Miss Potts, we have more than one shower. Second, you’re more than welcome to join me if you don’t want to wait?”

The two exchanged a long look, then Pepper smiled.

“Alright, then, let’s go.”

Saturday, January 21, 2017

“Ohhh, buddy…” Tony moaned sympathetically, covering his face with his hands before dragging them down with a heavy sigh. It was just past 2:00 in the morning, and while Tony and Pepper had hit the sack right after Peter’s treatment at midnight, neither of them had slept more than a few minutes at a time. Even from his bedroom down the hall, all they could hear was Peter coughing and sneezing fucking constantly. “Is Peter awake, Fri?” Tony asked the ceiling.

“Mr. Parker is still asleep, Boss.”

“Fucking how?!” Tony asked, looking to Pepper incredulously.

“Poor baby,” Pepper murmured, shaking her head.

“I can’t listen to this, Pep, I gotta go check on him, I’m sorry.”

“Tony, no! Don’t apologize! Go, please go, I’m uncomfortable just listening to him. Do you want me to go with you? I can help?” Pepper looked at him earnestly, and Tony smiled.

“Nah, I think I got it covered. You rest, at least someone in this house needs to sleep tonight.”

“Well, Peter is sleeping, technically,” Pepper noted, and Tony huffed a dry laugh.

“I don’t understand how, but yeah, technically he is. You go back to sleep. I love you,” Tony said, kissing her softly before he got out of bed, tucking the covers back up around her.

“Love you, too!” Pepper called as the man left. She winced as Peter started to cough again, loud and wet and painful. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you pull up the feed from Peter’s room, please?”

“Absolutely, Ms. Potts.”

Pepper smiled as the hologram came into view, settling in to watch Tony in full Dad mode. Maybe she’d admit it one day, maybe she wouldn’t, but watching that soft, sweet side of him never got old. She’d always known there was more to the man than he let on, but seeing it in action was an entirely different story. She snuggled into the covers, keeping an eye on the holographic video feed and letting her mind wander.

Tony took a detour to the kitchen, filling a glass with water, before he turned down the hallway and carefully eased Peter’s door open. He tiptoed into the room, pleased when the kid didn’t stir, and set the glass down on the nightstand. He then turned and crept into the en suite bathroom, closing the door before he flicked on the light, blinking at the sudden brightness. He opened the medicine cabinet, grabbing the honey herb cough syrup he’d purchased for just this purpose. Regular medications wouldn’t do anything for the kid, but Tony remembered his Nonna giving him a spoonful of a homemade honey-based syrup when he’d get sick as a kid. His mother had carried on the practice, but over time he’d switched over to the basic over-the-counter cough syrups. While the classic good ol’ NyQuil worked wonders, he had to admit that nothing he’d ever purchased could hold a candle to what his grandmother had given him. With that in mind, he’d picked up some granola bottled version that looked legit and might just help. If nothing else, fuck it, it was worth a shot. If that cough hurt half as bad as it sounded like it did, the poor kid could use a honey shot. While he was at it, he grabbed an Albuterol nebule for the next treatment, knowing damn well he wouldn’t want to get back up.

“Peter, wake up, bubba,” Tony called softly once he’d returned to Peter’s bedside, shaking his shoulder gently and smoothing his hair back, frowning at the kid’s fever. The kid just coughed, but he did stir enough that Tony could tell he was awake. He groaned, and Tony’s chest tightened. “I know, baby, I have something for you that might help. I’m going to turn on the light, okay?” He held his left hand out to shield Peter’s face before he reached with his right to flick on the lamp, hoping that he wouldn’t set off Peter’s weird light thing, but it didn’t work. Even with the shadow cast by Tony’s attempt to shield his face, the kid still recoiled and started to gasp. “Ohh, bubba, I’m so sorry! Here, sit up,” Tony crooned, slipping his hands under Peter’s arms and lifting him up in one swift but gentle motion. He supported the kid’s chest with one hand, using the other to rub his back as Peter as the poor kid started sneezing, too groggy and out of it to do anything other than duck his head down and use both hands to keep himself from falling. “I got you, you’re okay. Get it out, I guess,” Tony said with a shrug, wincing as the teen kept going. He took his hand off of Peter’s back to grab a handful of tissues. “Fuck, kid, I’m so sorry. I know, I know, bubba, try to relax, stop fighting it. Just let it out, Roo, you’re alright.”

Peter moaned, bringing one hand to rub at his eye, looking like he’d woken up on another fucking planet. Tony had to admit that waking up from a dead sleep into a sneezing fit must be pretty disorienting, not to mention the fever.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Tony soothed as the kid just kept going, noting that it did seem to be slowing down. He was almost tempted to turn the light right back out just for the sake of the teen’s pride—the kid was an absolute mess. “Okay, bubba, blow, don’t fight me,” Tony directed, pinching the tissues to Peter’s face and nodding reassuringly as the boy complied, looking too tired and confused to put up a fight. “Good job, Roo, hold on,” Tony said, gently pinching the kid’s nose in the tissues and pulling them off, tossing that bundle before he exchanged it for another. “Again,” he prompted, and Peter obeyed, rubbing at his eyes as he gave a now half-hearted blow into the tissues. “You can do better than that, come on,” Tony coached, and Peter whined, but took a deeper breath in and blew harder, this time getting his sinuses about as clear as they were going to get. “Good, Roo, you’re doing great,” Tony murmured as he folded the tissues over and wiped the kid’s face, tossing the bundle and turning back to thumb the tears off his cheeks. “You’re alright, just take a breather,” Tony hummed, smoothing his hair back and rubbing his back, feeling the kid sway limply with the motion. Tony palmed Peter’s forehead, then checked his watch, scowling at it as if he could break the kid’s fever with one withering glare. He took his left hand away, feeling the teen wake up enough to sit up on his own. He tried to be discreet as he wiped his arm behind his back, as the boy wasn’t really with it enough to cover and Tony did have his arm right in front of his face.

“Sorry,” Peter whispered, starting to wake up just enough to blush at what had just happened.

“Shhh, don’t say that, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Tony soothed, leaning forward to kiss Peter’s temple. “How many was that, Fri? Did we break a record?”

“That was 28, Boss. That does not exceed the record, no.”

Tony tutted.

“Better luck next time, I guess,” he joked, winking at Peter, relieved to get a small smile out of him.

“Definitely not a record-breaker. My record is over a hundred,” Peter croaked, and Tony’s jaw dropped.

“You’re lying! Peter, there’s no way you’re not lying!”

Peter shook his head, giggling before he broke into a cough.

“Ask May. She got this air freshener and—” Peter broke off laughing, and Tony had to join in. “It wasn’t funny then, it was really horrible, actually. I threw up afterwards and everything, but it’s funny now. She also tried a dryer sheet once, and that didn’t work out, either.”

“Jesus, kid,” Tony said after a low whistle. “Alright, I didn’t wake you up for nothing, I have something for you,” Tony said, grabbing the bottle of cough syrup and sitting down on the bed, facing Peter.

Peter squinted at the bottle, then up at him.

“You know that—that’s not—ugh!” The teen tried to talk, but kept having to turn his head to cough hard, his shoulders shaking and face reddening. “That’s not…gonna work?” He finished, chest heaving with rattling wheezes as he turned back to Tony with one eyebrow raised.

“It’s not what you think. My Nonna used to give me something like this, but she made hers herself. It’s just honey and a bunch of other hippie crap, I guess. I figured it was worth a try. If nothing else, it should help your throat,” Tony said, shrugging before he shook the bottle.

Peter nodded, swallowing hard with an audible, involuntary whimper and figuring he’d try anything at this point.

“There you go, bottoms up,” Tony said, holding out the small cup of thick, dark amber-colored liquid out to him. Peter accepted it, looking skeptical. He smelled it first, then shrugged and knocked the whole cup back, swallowing hard before his face crumpled in disgust but mostly confusion. “Is it bad?” Tony asked, taking the cup back to pour another dose.

Peter shook his head and took the other dose readily, surprised at the sweet, almost pleasant taste but mostly at the way the honey coated his throat like a balm, feeling so good he had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes back.

Tony smiled proudly, watching the boy’s face smooth out and his shoulders slump in relief.

“Better?” He asked softly, stroking Peter’s hair back. Peter gave him the sleepiest nod he’d ever seen, every inch of him looking relieved. He leaned into Tony’s hand, and the man melted all over again. “Yeah, Nonna always did know her shit,” he said with a soft, fond smile.

“L’t me know if she can fix an’thing else,” Peter mumbled, and Tony laughed.

“Oh, definitely! Stick around, bub,” Tony said as he got up, heading to the bathroom to rinse the dose cup out before he placed it back on the bottle, leaving the syrup on the nightstand for later. “Okay, let’s see what we can do here,” Tony said absently, grabbing an extra pillow and guiding Peter to sit back up. He stacked the two, then let the kid melt back into them, now propped up at an angle that would hopefully help him stop hacking his lungs up. “Goodnight, Roo,” Tony murmured, leaning down to kiss Peter’s forehead again.

“Wait! Stay!” Peter blurted, a bit too forcefully, then blushed. “Sorry, sorry, you don’t have—”

“Of course I’ll stay,” Tony said in a voice so soft and tender it didn’t even sound like his own. “I’m not leaving, kiddo,” he repeated, then flicked the lamp off and crossed over to the other side of the bed, getting in next to the kid. There was silence for a minute, then Peter scrambled over and nestled into Tony’s side, dropping his head onto the man’s chest and squeezing him tightly. Tony laughed, but wrapped his arms around the kid and gave him a gentle squeeze back.

Peter smiled into the dark, having to admit that while he still hated being sick, he’d missed this, feeling safe and warm and protected in his father’s arms.

“I missed this, too, bubba,” Tony said with a little laugh, and Peter blushed, not realizing he’d spoken out loud. Tony pulled the teen close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Well, not the part where you’re miserable, but you know.”

“Yeah, def’ly not th’t part. But this...th’s nice,” Peter admitted sleepily.

Tony huffed fondly as he listened to the kid’s words starting to slur.

“I love you, kiddo. Goodnight,” Tony spoke into the darkness.

“L’ve you, night,” Peter murmured, and not even thirty seconds passed before he was snoring into Tony’s shirt.

Tony rolled his eyes and shook his head, a wide smile on his face. God, he loved this kid more than anything.

Meanwhile, Pepper curled on her side, smiling at the video feed and ghosting a hand over the lower part of her abdomen. She imagined again what it would be like to have a baby in there, an actual, honest-to-God baby, and even after she swiped the hologram away, she fell asleep with a smile on her face, a hand on her stomach, and hope in her heart.

Tony groaned tiredly, blinking to force himself awake and padding to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Peter had still coughed and wheezed and snored and sniffled and every-fucking-thing else all night long, and as awful as Tony felt for him, he had to admit that he’d forgotten what the sleep deprivation was like. He would have to get used to it, he supposed, since he and Pepper were really serious about that baby. At least Peter could tell them what was wrong and use the toilet by himself and all that, which Tony figured was a big plus.

“Hey, May, good morning,” Tony said after he’d answered the phone on the first ring, keeping his voice down to hopefully not disturb Peter’s super-kid hearing.

“Good morning! How is everything over there?” May asked, giggling as Tony yawned in reply.

He grabbed the mug of coffee—black, he wasn’t fucking around—and sat at the kitchen bar, scrubbing a hand over his face before he replied.

“He’s holding steady, coughed all night but he’s in good spirits, not being a little asshole anymore, which I appreciate.”

“I bet you do! He can get really ornery when he doesn’t feel well.”

“So I’ve noticed! I’ve kept up with the treatments every four hours, but he’s still having a hard time. I woke him up at around 2:15-ish and gave him some honey syrup stuff, I don’t know, it’s just honey and herbs and junk. My grandmother used to give me something similar, and it helped, so that’s good.”

May smiled, her heart warmed by the idea of Tony treating Peter the way the man’s grandmother had treated him.

“Good, good! I’m glad! You’ll have to send me the link. Anything I can use to help him is appreciated. Normal medicine just doesn’t even touch it.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed with another yawn, “and it won’t. His metabolism is insane. Bruce said just therapeutic stuff is about the best we can do until he gets some more formulas stabilized. He’s working on it.”

“Thank you so much, Tony, that would be a godsend to be able to have medication that would actually help him. By the way, in case you were tempted to try any sort of vapor stuff, don’t. Spiders hate mint, and apparently a bit of that passed on to him. I tried to use some Vick’s on him and he freaked out.”

Tony stayed silent for a few moments, trying hard to keep his composure, but he broke down, laughing hard.

“Oh my god, that’s not funny, I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed through more laughter, and May joined in.

“No, no, it’s okay! You can laugh! Just don’t bring it anywhere near him.”

“Noted, I definitely won’t! Let’s see, uh…he asked me to stay with him last night, so I did. This kid has me wrapped around his finger, May, I swear! I’ve given more hugs in the past three months the I had in my entire life before him. He’s making me soft, he’s just…” Tony broke off, sobering, “he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I just don’t understand it.”

“Tony…” May took a deep breath and Tony heard her swallow hard, his brow furrowing as he picked up on the way the conversation had suddenly changed in tone. “Have you ever heard of the five love languages?” May blurted finally, and Tony blinked, making a face at the overtly sappy idea.

“I don’t think you need me to answer that,” he said with a dry laugh, clearing his throat reflexively and feeling suddenly quite vulnerable.

“I…” May seemed to not know where to start, and Tony didn’t need to see her to imagine her shaking her head. “Peter’s always been lovable, he’s always been kind and caring and very generous with his love for those around him and even people he’s never met,” May began and Tony smiled and nodded. “After…after his parents died, though, became an extremely…tactile person. He needed hugs all the time—not wanted them, needed them. He always wanted to be held, to be touched, to…it was like he needed to grab on, literally, to remind himself that we were there. It was like…like we were a balloon on a string and we’d float away if he let go for even a second. He would just latch on and cling. He was in therapy, and we brought it up, and they said it was normal. We never wanted to deny him what he needed, so we—Ben and I, I mean—we incorporated little ways to just let him know that we were there, in a way that he could feel. The hugs, sure, but also the pats on his back, the playing with his hair, just…something palpable, I guess.” May took a deep breath, pausing for a moment.

Tony wondered where she was going with this but stayed respectfully quiet, listening intently, nodding along even though she couldn’t see it.

“When he got a little older I had him take the test to find out his love language, not that we needed a test to know. Basically the idea is that there are five main ways in which a person receives love, and everyone has their different ways of really feeling it. He scored the lowest for ‘gifts’ and ‘acts of service,’” May began and Tony nodded—that definitely sounded like Peter. “He tied for second with ‘quality time’ and ‘words of affirmation.’ His primary, of course, was ‘touch,’ by a landslide. Everyone has their own percentages or whatever, and honestly I really recommend taking the test, it’s really, really interesting. But…after Ben died…Peter closed in on himself, he shut everyone out. He’s always struggled with touch starvation, even if he has eighteen hugs a day he’s still touch starved, all the time. I…did you know that humans need four hugs a day just to survive?”

Tony blinked, willing the tears to go away, trying to stay focused on the conversation and not get lost in his own memories, of getting a hug from his mother and having his skin tingle for minutes afterwards because they were just so infrequent.

“No, I didn’t know that,” he choked out, his throat dry and tight.

“Peter…Peter needs something real, something tangible and concrete to hold on to and remind him how loved he is and that nobody’s going anywhere. He’s just starting to open back up, Tony. Before you, he would still flinch every time I even grazed him. It was so unlike him, and I…I was so worried, Tony,” May admitted, and Tony frowned, hearing tears in her voice. “I don’t think you’ll ever understand just what you did for him.”

Tony cleared his throat, sniffling.

“I um…I didn’t get a lot of that growing up. You know, affection, and all that. I don’t want Peter to ever need anything from me and not get it. I want him to know how much I love him and this…knowing how I can best do that, is…it’s a blessing, May, thank you. I’m going to remember this, going to not be so uptight about showing him how I feel, and I’m going to work on telling him more, too. I…would it help if I talked about the future with him, with him in the plans, so he knows I’m not going to leave?”

May sniffled, making a wounded noise in the back of her throat.

“Yes, Tony, that would help. That would help a lot.”

Tony nodded frantically, swiping at his own cheeks.

“I want him to know I’m in this for the long haul.”

“He’s been through hell, Tony, he needs you. Fuck, I need you. It was bad after his parents, and it was really bad after Ben, but that Vulture guy? Tony, it was horrible after that. I don’t know what went down, because I know there’s something that he’s not telling me, but whatever happened, it really, really fucked him up.”

Tony’s blood ran cold, listening to May force the words out. His lip twitched and he longed to wrap his hands around Toomes’ throat.

“I believe you.” He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“He also,” May started, rambling with a teary sniffle, “he spent a lot of time in a hospital crib as a kid. Even as a baby, he spent his first few weeks in an incubator. I think that has at least something to do with why he gets so damn clingy when he’s sick. I don’t know, I’m not a psychologist. His therapist didn’t seem worried about it when he was younger, just said that some people are more sensitive to things like that and to just give him what he was craving. I just…now that you’re in his life like this, I just thought you should know. Also, he acts like he doesn’t like to be fussed over, but he does,” May tattled, and Tony laughed through his own tears.

“Now that I knew already!” Tony said, but his smile wiped off his face in an instant when he heard May choke down a sob.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get emotional, I just…thank you, Tony. Thank you for everything, and for being here, and for…everything. It’s been incredible just to have someone else, to see someone else care about him the way I do and—a-and Ben did. To watch him improve and grow and open up and—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! It’s okay! I hear you, of course, May, you don’t have to thank me for that! I love this kid more than anything, I’ll do whatever it takes, anything.”

May cleared her throat and forced a deep breath, and Tony mimicked the action, figuring he should probably calm down, too, in case Peter woke up early.

“I…I think I needed that, to get that off my chest. Thank you,” May said quietly.

“No, thank you, that’s valuable information. The more I know, the better I can be for him,” Tony said with another sniffle, clearing his throat. “Okay, um…before you go, let me get you updated on his temperature and all that jazz.”

“Yes! Please! I’m about to hit the hay but I want to know.”

Tony filled May in on the little details, and then the two exchanged goodbyes and hung up. Tony put his phone down and dropped his head into his hands, sighing deeply.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” Pepper asked, and Tony looked up, watching her frown deepen as she took in the tear tracks on his face.

“Nothing, Pep, everything’s okay. I was just talking to May, and she…she gave me some information but it was just…sad, I guess.”

Pepper’s face softened.

“What did she say?”

Tony reiterated what May had told him, paraphrasing but getting the idea across just fine.

“God, poor baby! I’m glad you told me, I’ll keep that in mind, too. I want to get closer to him, to be able to have the kind of relationship with him that you have. I mean, I’ll never be as close as you are, I don’t think, but you know.”

“I do,” Tony agreed, smiling up at her and accepting a soft kiss on the lips. “I’m gonna call Bruce, see what he thinks about this.”

Pepper nodded, turning around to start gathering ingredients for breakfast as Tony tapped the familiar contact.

“Bruce?”

“Hey, Tony! What’s going on? You don’t normally call me for shits and giggles,” the doctor said, and Tony smiled.

“It’s Peter, kid’s sick again.”

“Oh no…” Bruce groaned. “How bad?”

“Not, just a bad cold. I wanted to make sure you didn’t want to take a look at anything.”

“Uhhh…actually, I do, yeah. I’d want to see how he is as a baseline for a milder illness. Poor little buddy, I was really hoping the holidays were a fluke,” Bruce said with a frown, gathering a few items to take the drive down to the tower. He’d been staying at the compound upstate, but had no problems driving in to check on his favorite spider-kid.

“Yeah, me, too,” Tony said, then paused as he heard voices on the other line.

“The tower,” Bruce answered to someone who asked where he was going. Tony heard more murmuring on the other line. “Wait, I’m gonna put you on speaker, Tony,” he said, and the other voices in the room sounded clearer before Tony could even react. “Peter’s sick, I’m just going to have a look at him,” Bruce said.

“Again?” Nat said, and Tony smiled at her voice.

“Yeah, I know,” Bruce said with a sigh.

“I’ll take a ride with you,” Nat said, leaving no room for argument, and Bruce stuttered.

“Uh, sure! Yeah, why not,” he said, stammering, and Tony smiled as he pictured the blush on the doctor’s cheeks. Everyone on the team knew there was a spark between Bruce and the super spy, but they let them have their thing with only moderate amounts of teasing.

“Well, looks like it’ll be two of us, if that’s okay?” Bruce said, speaking to Tony again.

“Yeah, sure, Nat can come,” Tony said, and there was an obvious undertone that said loud and clear that while Natasha was welcome, the invitation definitely didn’t extend to anyone else.

Bruce and Tony exchanged goodbyes, before Tony hung up with a sigh, already exhausted before 9:00 am.

“Let me go check on sleeping beauty back there, I’ll be right back,” Tony said, sliding off the barstool.

“Okay, breakfast should be ready by then,” Pepper said with a soft laugh, and Tony nodded, pecking her cheek before he started down the hall.

Opening Peter’s door quietly, he smiled as he found the kid sprawled out, sleeping hard. His face was smushed into the pillow, drooling and snoring and his chest and nose rattling with each breath, the congestion bad enough to make him sound like he was drowning. All in all, though, he looked peaceful, if not at least dead to the world, so Tony decided to leave him be, let him be all drippy in peace—he’d handle that later.

“Still asleep?” Pepper asked once Tony returned, and Tony snorted a laugh.

“If he weren’t making so much noise, I’d check his pulse,” he joked before sitting back down.

“Good, he needs the rest,” Pepper said, her voice warm and soft, and Tony nodded.

“God, this looks amazing, thank you so much,” he said moaned as Pepper placed a steaming plate in front of him.

“Alright, it’s just breakfast, keep it in your pants,” Pepper quipped as she took a seat next to him. Tony turned to her and smirked, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Yeah? That’s not what you wanted last night.”

“Shut up and eat your eggs!” Pepper said with a roll of her eyes, but Tony noticed the smile she tried so hard to hide as she began on her own breakfast, and his own grin widened.

“I’m just saying, we probably have time before he wakes up from the looks of it, we’d just have to be quiet and make it quic—”

“Anthony Edward Stark! Eat your eggs and shut up!”

Tony held his hands up in a placating gesture, not even trying to hide the sly grin on his face.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, buddy,” Tony said, keeping his voice soft and quiet as Peter shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes and looking dead on his feet. “How are you feeling?”

Peter paused, then shook his head, his lower lip jutting out slightly and breaking Tony’s heart.

“Oh, honey! Here, sit down,” Pepper gushed, obviously feeling the same rush of sympathy, love, and protectiveness as Tony had.

Peter sat next to Tony at the bar, unnervingly quiet. He blinked slowly, eyes glassy, before he turned into his elbow to cough hard. Tony tutted softly and reached over to rub his back.

“Aww, bubba!”

Any trace of the attitude from earlier in the week was gone, and as aggravating as the snark had been, Tony found himself almost preferring that to this—at least then he’d had the energy to be a little shit. Now, though, he just set his elbow on the counter and used his hand to hold his head up, looking so sad and sick and exhausted, his chest heaving as if every breath was too much work. His neck tensed with each inhale, and Tony could tell from the way his entire body moved with every wheeze that he was using everything in him to suck air in and push it back out.

“Thadk you,” he rasped when Pepper placed a steaming mug of tea in front of him, having to suck in a sharp wheeze to catch his breath afterwards.

“Shhh, don’t talk, sweetheart, you’re welcome.” Pepper looked at Tony, face pinched and eyebrows knit tightly together, mirroring the man’s own worried expression.

Peter stared at the tea for a few minutes before he forced himself to move, picking it up with shaky hands and taking a sip. It felt incredible, and he closed his eyes and soaked up the warmth. Tony breathed out a sympathetic almost-laugh, watching the way the kid’s face smoothed out into an expression of sheer bliss all over one sip of tea and fuck, his kid was too pure for this stupid planet.

“Are you okay, honey? You look…really sick,” Pepper said, pausing to choose her words carefully. She crossed to the other side of the bar, stopping on Peter’s other side and rubbing his back.

“Yeah, I’b fide, just…tired,” Peter gasped, capping it off with a yawn as if just the mention of it sapped his energy even more. “Ub…cad I…have a—a treatbedt?”

Tony couldn’t even laugh at the way the congestion mangled his words, too busy worrying about the way he couldn’t get more than a few syllables out without having to take a raspy, rattling breath in, or the way he had to break off to cough before he even finished his sentence, and especially the way he came out and asked for a treatment.

“Baby…” Tony was at a loss for words, trying to stuff down the fear bubbling up in his gut as he watched Peter struggle. “I…it’s only 10:30, you’re not due until noon, I…I don’t know if I can give you one so soon? You have one at 8.”

“I did?” Peter gasped, blinking at him and looking distraught.

“Yeah, kiddo, you did.”

“Doesd’t…feel like it.” He whispered, wheezing in between, and Tony’s chest clenched.

“Fri, send Bruce a text, ask him for an E.T.A. please?” Tony said, his voice rising in pitch in spite of his efforts to stay calm, even though Peter’s face was flushing and there was a circle of pale white around his lips that had Tony’s heart pounding erratically in his chest.

“I thidk…asthba, I thidk—” Peter clutched at his chest, covering his mouth with his other hand as he coughed, and Tony could hear how tight it sounded and gulped hard. Peter braced his free hand against the countertop, and Tony’s eyes locked on it as he watched his hand tremble.

“Are you having an asthma attack, kiddo?” Tony asked, knowing the answer but wanting to confirm, still feeling the cold stab of fear through his chest as Peter nodded quickly. “Okay, okay, you’re alright,” Tony soothed, somehow able to stuff his own panic down when Peter whimpered. Tony picked up his phone, keeping one hand on Peter’s back and using the other to get Bruce on the phone. “Bruce?!”

“Yeah, Tony, I’m on my way, I can’t text—”

“Peter’s having an asthma attack, I gave him a treatment at 8 and it hasn’t been four hours, can I give him another one? I don’t…he needs one, or something, at least.” Tony cut the doctor off, not wanting to waste any time.

“Oh, shit, yeah, he can have another one. I’m almost there, just keep him calm and get the treatment going, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay, thank you!” Tony said and hung up, not even bothering with pleasantries. “Okay, bubba, you’re alright,” Tony cooed in the most soothing voice he could manage. He stood, cutting to the chase and scooping Peter up bridal-style, carrying him over to the couch.

“He can have another one?” Pepper asked, and she rushed off after Tony nodded.

“We’re gonna get some Albuterol into you and you’re gonna be just fine, okay? Just hold on for me, I know it’s uncomfortable, you’re doing so great,” Tony said, kneeling in front of the couch to face Peter and cupping his cheek with one hand, using the other to smooth his hair back. The wheezing wasn’t getting any worse, which Tony supposed was a blessing, but it definitely wasn’t getting any better. It wasn’t the worst attack he’d seen from Peter, not by a long shot, but that didn’t stop him from getting just as worried. Peter nodded weakly, leaning into Tony’s touch. He started to cough, and squirmed out of Tony’s grip, the man pulling his hands back to let him go. Peter leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees, and Tony frowned at the familiar posture. Leaning forward was a red flag, as was the way he was sticking his neck out slightly, the space just above his collarbone sinking sharply inwards with each wheeze.

“Okay, here we go,” Pepper said, rushing back with the nebulizer. She plugged in the machine and got the medication into the cup like she’d watched Tony do dozens of times.

“There it is, buddy, you’re alright,” Tony said, taking the cup from Pepper and passing it to Peter. He took it gratefully, his hands ice cold and trembling as his fingers brushed Tony’s. He was still moving air, definitely enough to get the medication in, and after a few tense minutes, Pepper and Tony both joined Peter in a sigh of relief.

Tony and Pepper looked up in unison as the elevator doors opened, and Bruce rushed out, skipping a greeting in favor of placing a stethoscope in his ears and pulling a pulse oximeter out of his pocket as he strode quickly over to Peter. He nodded, looking relieved as he rounded the couch to see Peter slumped against the back, eyes half-lidded and wheezing starting to quiet down.

“Hey, buddy,” Bruce said softly, taking a seat next to Peter and clipping the pulse ox on his finger. “In the 90s still, good. Can you take your shirt off for me?”

Peter gave him a wounded look, resembling a kicked puppy, but nodded. He went to go lean forward, but Tony took over, handing the nebulizer to Bruce as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and hoodie and peeled them off, a rough shiver running through the poor kid as he all but collapsed back into the couch cushions, putting the nebulizer mouthpiece back in.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Bruce said with a sympathetic wince as Peter shuddered at the cold stethoscope chest piece. Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him still, and bit his lip as Peter whimpered and shrank away. “I’m so sorry, kiddo, I rushed in from outside.”

Peter shook his head, but looked utterly miserable as he let Bruce do whatever he wanted, listening to his lungs from the front and back, feeling the glands under his neck, looking into his ears, eyes, and nose.

“Perfect timing,” Bruce said as the nebulizer sputtered, and Pepper took the neb from Peter. “Open,” Bruce said, and Peter complied, allowing Bruce to shine a light down his throat. “Okay, kiddo, you can have your shirt back,” Bruce said finally, and Tony helped the shivering teen as he scrambled back into his clothes. “The good news is that aside from the asthma, I’m not seeing anything out of the ordinary for a URI, even as bad as it is.”

“URI?” Tony questioned.

“Upper Respiratory Infection. A cold,” Bruce clarified, earning himself a nod. “Ears are fine, he’s congested but what else is new, throat is red but not any more than one would expect, lungs are clear aside from the asthma. He’s congested and wheezing, but they’re clear in terms of Pneumonia or anything like that. When did you start feeling sick, Pete?”

Peter sighed wheezily.

“Tuesday,” he muttered, and Tony snorted lightly.

“What?” Bruce asked, confused.

“It started Tuesday, but he didn’t admit anything was wrong until Thursday,” Tony tattled.

“Peter! You were hiding it?” Bruce asked, and again Tony answered for him.

“He wasn’t hiding shit, he just took us for fools.”

“I didd’t…I dod’t kdow,” Peter said with a dejected shrug, and Bruce gave him a sympathetic look, handing him a bundle of tissues.

“Here, blow your nose, there’s no way that’s comfortable.” Bruce waited for Peter to finish, then patted his knee. “Well, today’s day 5, symptom-wise. Sometimes the peak is on days 3 and 4, but usually the peak is 5 through 7, so today through Monday should be the worst of it, and then it should start to taper off.”

“It’s gonna get worse?” Pepper asked worriedly, and Bruce cringed.

“Possibly, yeah. It should peak through the weekend. He can go back to school 24 hours after the fever breaks and really as soon as he’s up for it, but you need to take it easy, Peter, really. You don’t want a repeat of the holidays, do you?”

Peter shook his head, wincing at the memory.

“Then you need to not let yourself get so worn down that your healing factor stops again.”

Peter nodded, swallowing hard with a wince.

“So we’re talking, what, Tuesday, maybe?” Tony asked, and Bruce tilted his head back and forth, considering.

“Yeah, possibly, it’s hard to say. I wouldn’t put a timeline on it. Just go at his pace.”

There was a moment of silence, then Peter broke it with a congested gasp, spending about ten seconds gasping before he finally turned into his elbow and sneezed wetly, his chest rattling like a pair of maracas as he crunched down six times in a row.

“Bless you, kid!” Tony said with a sympathetic laugh, looking up and seeing an expression on Natasha’s face that he didn’t even know the hardened spy was capable of making. She was making the same soft, sympathetic face that Tony could feel himself wear often around Peter, the same one that he watched May and Pepper make dozens of times. It was a look so tender and fond that it threw the billionaire for a loop. Natasha Romanoff looked positively maternal, even if the rest of her body didn’t match. She stood in her usual stance, feet planted shoulder width apart and arms crossed. She was quiet, even for her, but it was obvious that there was a strong pull towards Peter.

She seemed to make up her mind suddenly, and she strode with confidence over to the couch and sat down on Peter’s other side, the kid now surrounded on both sides and the front by all three adults.

“So, I hear you’re a movie buff?” She asked, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across Peter’s face.

“Yeah,” he said weakly, and Natasha nodded in approval.

“Good,” she said simply, grabbing the remote, “do you want to pick?”

“Nat, give me my kid back!” Tony whined childishly, sounding only an inch away from stomping his foot.

“No.” Natasha didn’t take her eyes away from the screen, but her lips did turn upwards in a sly smirk. She tightened her hold on a sleeping Peter and ignored Tony as he huffed from behind her. Bruce pressed his knuckles against his mouth, forcing a laugh into submission as he watched. Nobody was really shocked when Peter passed out soon after Bruce had finished his check-up, but what was surprising was who he chose to cuddle with and that Nat had readily embraced him and allowed him to use her as a pillow.

“We might have to go soon, Nat,” Bruce said, wincing as the spy fixed him with a glare.

“No.”

“Nat,” Bruce said, but he put his hands up when he received another look. “Okay, okay, fine!”

Natasha absently ran her fingers through the sleeping teen’s curls, keeping her eyes trained on the movie and doing her best impression of someone who was most definitely not wrapped around Peter Parker’s finger.

“When he wakes up, though, we really do need to start heading back,” Bruce said, and the redhead narrowed her eyes.

“…we’ll see.”

Tony blinked at her nerve, and Bruce caught his eye and shrugged.

“You need to give him back, he needs a treatment. It’s noon,” Tony said, and Natasha turned her head to stare at him.

“I’ll do it,” she said simply, and Tony groaned in frustration, leaving Bruce to stifle another laugh.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Bruce asked, and Tony pouted.

“That’s my kid! Get your own!” It took Tony a few seconds to register what he’d said, and to whom he’d said it, and he hissed. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet voice, shaking his head and looking truly remorseful. “I’m…I’ll get the neb set up.” It took a lot for Tony Stark to look uncomfortable, to tuck his tail between his legs, but it remained firmly tucked as he got the treatment set up and passed the tubing to Natasha without a word. “You just hold it by his face. A little closer, yeah, that’s perfect.” Tony gulped, sitting across from the couch and squirming in the awkward silence. “I’m really sorry, it was meant to be joking and I just…didn’t think, I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Natasha shook her head.

“It’s fine, I know what you meant. I do, however, like the sound of you admitting you’re wrong. We have Peter to thank for that, don’t we?”

“Yeah. Honestly, if I ever do anything right, just go ahead and assume that it’s Peter’s fault. It’s hard not to want to be better when you’re around someone so…”

“Good,” Natasha finished, and Tony nodded.

“Yeah. Good.”

“Salute,” Tony said absently, rubbing Peter’s back as the boy caught his breath after another handful of congested sneezes. It was coming up on 3:00 in the afternoon, and Tony once again had his kid to himself. Pepper was busy finishing up some work before she had to head off to a gala later, and Bruce and Natasha had left as soon as Peter had woken up.

“Thadks,” Peter sighed, sounding annoyed. He rubbed at his nose and sniffled thickly, rolling his eyes in frustration before he leaned forward to grab a few tissues and blow his nose. He’d barely finished when he was coughing, holding the bundle of tissues in both hands and turning his head away from Tony to cough miserably. He crumpled the tissues and tossed them in the trash can, pressing one hand tightly to his chest as he continued to cough.

“Ohhhh, bubba, you really do sound worse, huh?” Tony asked after Peter settled, getting only a half-hearted shrug in response.

“Umb…that stuff you gave mbe? Last ndight? Umb…”

“Yeah, you want some more of that?” Tony asked softly, and Peter nodded, turning watery eyes to his father, a pleading expression on his face. “Yes, baby, of course! Let me go get it, okay? Then maybe you can take another nap after that? You look sleepy, Roo,” Tony said, standing up and reaching down to cup Peter’s cheek, brushing his thumb back and forth across Peter’s temple.

Peter nodded frantically, and Tony frowned, feeling another tug at his gut. Something about the way Peter’s face was pinched in pain gave him pause, and he only hoped that it wasn’t a sign of how the rest of the day would go.

“Ohhhh, bub, I know, I know,” Tony soothed, feeling helpless. Pepper was at that damn gala, Peter’s fever was up to 101.5, and the kid hadn’t been able to sleep since Nat left, but not for a lack of trying. He was absolutely shredded, but the coughing and sneezing and congestion and shortness of breath made it impossible for him to get comfortable, and finally he’d broken down in exhausted tears almost half an hour ago. Peter was known for being tough as nails usually, (Tony had watched him break bones with little more than a wince, cracking jokes throughout), so the tears had Tony feeling worried, inadequate, and desperate. “Ohhh, baby, it’s okay! You’re alright, I’m right here,” Tony crooned as Peter started to cough again, having to pause in his sobbing as his lungs pulled rank on him. “Okay, okay, you know what? Desperate times call for desperate measures. You stay here, and I’ll be right back, okay?” Tony stood, grabbing a tissue and wiping the kid’s nose before he tossed the crumpled wad and strode quickly to the kitchen. He bit his lip, hearing Peter’s cries grow sharper and more insistent, not to mention feeling the churning in his gut at what he was about to do.

“Look, it’s better than letting him cry like that. He’s miserable, plus it won’t even do anything to him,” Tony said out loud, talking to himself as he got a mug and starting preparing another one of Nonna’s magical home remedies: the good old hot toddy. He got to work, adding hot water to the mug first before he added the honey and lemon juice, being extra liberal with the honey. He took a deep breath, then reached for the Asgardian liquor that Thor had given him. After all, he figured, they gave this shit to kids over there. He shook his head to clear it, wondering why his conscience was being so active all of a sudden, especially over a little bit of whiskey, (was it whiskey? Who the fuck knows, his kid is suffering, it doesn’t matter), and cracked the seal on the bottle, eyeballing a heaping two shots of the liquor into the mug. “I’m coming, buddy!” He called as Peter hiccuped and coughed, stirring the contents of the mug before he dropped the spoon in and rushed back over to Peter. “Hey, hey, look, I have something for you, see? It’ll help, kiddo, it’ll feel good on your throat. Can you take a sip for me?”

Peter shook his head, rubbing at his eyes and looking so young and helpless and Tony felt his heart crack straight down the middle.

“Please, baby? It’ll help? Just a few sips, c’mon,” Tony cajoled, spooning a small amount of the liquid and making sure it wasn’t too hot before he held the spoon out to Peter. The kid leaned forward, accepting the spoon absently, seemingly too upset to give a flying fuck about anything anymore. “That’s better, huh? I told you it would help,” Tony hummed, spoon-feeding Peter a few more sips of the sweet liquid. To his surprise, the drink worked quickly, and Peter shut up within a minute. “This is another one of Nonna’s staples,” Tony babbled, smiling softly at Peter as he continued to spoon-feed him the spiked drink and fuck, what even was his life at this point? He couldn’t feel too bad, however, when he looked at how swollen and red Peter’s eyes were, one of many signs of how awful he was feeling. Seeing the relief on his face made the evisceration he would get from Pepper and May if they ever found out worth it.

“Thadk you,” Peter whispered brokenly, and Tony gave him a sad smile.

“Of course, Roo! I’m so sorry you’re feeling so bad! Is it helping?”

Peter nodded, relaxing back into the couch cushions.

“I wish I could’ve mbet your graddba, she soudds awesombe,” Peter said quietly, and Tony huffed out a sad laugh.

“She would’ve loved you so much, bubba. You two would’ve gotten along really well.”

Peter gave him a tired smile, then sniffled so thickly that Tony had to cringe.

“Nope, you have to blow your nose,” Tony said, setting the mug down on the coffee table and grabbing a few tissues.

“It wod’t help,” Peter said sadly, but accepted the tissues and tried anyway. As soon as he finished, he went right back to the hot toddy, this time taking the mug himself and downing it quickly. “That actually really helped,” he said after a few minutes, peering into the mug as if there was some sort of magic in there. “Could I maybe have more?” He looked up at Tony, and the billionaire had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from busting out laughing as he took in the kid’s glassy eyes.

“Yeah, buddy, of course!” Tony took the mug and went back into the kitchen, clamping his hand over his mouth and eyes widening in shock as soon as his back was turned. He hadn’t expected the alcohol to actually do anything with Peter’s metabolism, but fuck if the kid wasn’t swaying a bit. He settled on tea this time, brewing him a mug of Earl Grey with honey and lemon.

“Th’ks,” Peter slurred once Tony came back, reaching out with weak hands for the mug.

“Here, sit back, let me help you,” Tony suggested, not keen on giving a potentially-tipsy (okay, definitely probably tipsy) spider-kid an open mug of hot liquid. Peter shrugged, relaxing and allowing Tony to spoon-feed him tea.

“Th’s ndice,” Peter babbled, nodding emphatically.

“Yeah?” Tony questioned, having to laugh a little bit.

“Mb. Mb-hmb.”

“Come see, bubba,” Tony said once Peter had finished the tea, sitting on the couch next to him and opening his arms.

“Mmb!” Peter hummed excitedly, scrambling over to nestle himself against Tony’s side, sighing wheezily. “Thadk you,” he mumbled around a yawn, and Tony laughed again.

“No problem, kiddo.”

“Mb-J texted mbe,” Peter blurted.

“Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

“She said ‘I told you so.’ Cad she combe over toborrow?”

“Let’s see how you’re feeling, hm? If you’re doing better, then sure.”

“Th’ks, Dad! I really, really like her, but dod’t tell her I told you,” Peter said, dropping his voice to a stage whisper.

“I think she already knows, bubba,” Tony laughed. Peter just coughed, curling into Tony and burying his face in the man’s chest. Tony rolled his eyes affectionately, rubbing the kid’s back. “Good God, Peter, that sounds horrible,” Tony said with a sympathetic wince.

“It doesd’t feel as bad as before,” Peter said with a shrug, seeming perplexed but too out of it to consider the matter any further.

“Nope, we gotta do something about that, kiddo,” Tony said after another rattling cough from Peter. Tony got up, and the kid whined and pouted at him. “I know, I suck, bear with me,” Tony said, grabbing a throw pillow and guiding Peter to lie down, positioning the pillow under his midsection to angle his head slightly downwards. Peter coughed more, the downwards angle making his nose clog up even more than it already was. “Turn over,” Tony directed, and Peter blinked at him.

“What?”

Tony laughed, running a hand down his face. That shit must be strong, (or maybe he was too generous with it?), because Peter was absolutely out of it it. Tony did suspect, however, that the fever and exhaustion had a lot to do with it, as well, plus his metabolism probably slowing a bit from the strain of the illness.

“Turn over onto your stomach. No, baby, like this, here,” Tony shook his head, smiling, and helped Peter turn onto his stomach.

“Oh,” Peter replied, his voice muffled in the couch.

“Oh my god, son, turn your head so you can breathe!!” Tony was laughing hard now, having to grab Peter’s head and turn it to face him so he didn’t have his face smushed into the couch cushion. “There, now arms up,” Tony began, this time not even bothering to let Peter try on his own, gently placing both arms above his head, “and stay!”

Peter nodded, coughing into his hoodie sleeve entirely by accident—the way Tony had put his arms up also served to block his face with his left arm.

“Good, buddy,” Tony praised, before he cupped both hands and began drumming on Peter’s back the way Bruce had taught him. Normally he’d have put a towel over him like Bruce had said, but Tony figured the shirt and thick hoodie served the same purpose.

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, only the sound of Peter’s crackly wheezing and Tony’s clapping on his back filling the room.

“I’b afraid of spiders,” Peter blurted after a moment, and Tony was so taken aback that he paused for a moment, before he snorted out a laugh and continued drumming. Peter gasped, twisting to look at his father. “Oh ndo! Are you sick, too?!” The kid looked so earnestly concerned, his face comically drawn into a perfect expression of worry and sadness.

“No, buddy, I’m not sick! I was laughing at you, I’m fine, I promise,” Tony assured, still giggling as he guided Peter to lie back down so he could continue with the physio session, the kid resting his head on his folded arms.

“At mbe?”

“Yep. At you.”

Peter frowned, but didn’t have too much time to consider it before he was sneezing, Tony pausing the percussion to brace Peter’s shoulder with one hand, using the other to rub soothing circles on his back.

“Jesus, Roo,” Tony muttered as the kid continued to convulse, too loopy and uncoordinated to even think about covering his mouth. Tony shook his head, wondering again how the hell he had gotten to this place, to being able to lean down towards a sick, snotty kid sneezing openly just in front of his face and not feel anything other than concern and a fierce urge to nurture and protect. “You done?” Tony asked after the kid finally seemed to settle, moving the hand from his back to his temple, stroking the curls away from his flushed face. “Bless you, bubba! That was eleven,” Tony murmured with an amused smile.

Peter nodded breathlessly, looking so worn out and pitiful that Tony wondered if he had any blood in his heart left after the sympathy had clenched it like an iron fist.

“Just breathe, bub, take a rest,” Tony said, reaching with his left hand to pluck a tissue out of the box, shaking his head in amusement and fond disbelief as he pinched the boy’s red, steadily running nose in the tissue and wiped it gently. Tony tossed the tissue and gave Peter a moment before he returned to beating on him, Peter’s entire body shaking limply with each controlled blow. “Ooh, there you go, get that up,” Tony encouraged as Peter coughed hard, pushing himself up slightly as Tony heard the congestion starting to loosen. “Good job, baby,” Tony praised as Peter spit the congestion into the bundle of tissues Tony held to his face. “Here, you hold that.” Tony passed the tissues to him, then continued, spending about another fifteen minutes on his back before he gently turned Peter onto his left side. “Arm up, good.”

“I feel weird,” Peter mumbled, and Tony paused, tensing up.

“What kind of weird?” Tony asked, ready to grab the trash can.

“Mmb…floaty,” Peter replied, and Tony let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and started to clap on the sides of Peter’s ribcage, grateful that it wasn’t that kind of weird.

“Yeah? Your fever’s up,” Tony suggested, and Peter nodded.

“Yeah. That’s…pro’ly it.”

Tony shook his head with a fond smile, rolling his eyes and feeling only slightly guilty because hey, the kid was feeling better! The man cringed at a thick, gurgling sniffle from the kid, vowing to deal with that as soon as he’d finished the chest physio.

“I l’ve you,” Peter slurred, giving Tony a dopey smile after Tony turned him to his other side, facing the man now.

“I love you, too, bubba! So much,” Tony replied, swallowing the lump in his throat he always got when Peter looked at him like he hung the moon.

“You’re mby fav’rite superhero. Thed I mbet you and I was like…woah you’re the besssst. A’d thed—” Peter broke off to sniffle thickly and cough, “ndow you’re mby dad a’d I just…I got so lucky!!! I feel safe with Irod Mband but…but I feel the safest with you.” Peter looked up at him with those wide, soulful Bambi eyes and it was everything in Tony not to crumble into tiny pieces right there.

“I love you so much, kiddo. I’m the lucky one,” Tony murmured. “Say my name again,” Tony said after a few beats of comfortable silence, a smirk coloring his face.

“Dad?”

“No, the other one, the one you said before.”

“Uh…”

Tony rolled his eyes, smirk widening into a grin as he watched the gears turn in Peter’s head.

“Irond Mband?”

Tony laughed hard, having to stop and brace both hands flat on Peter’s ribcage as he turned into his shoulder to muffle hysterical laughter.

“Sorry, I’b…sdotty.”

“Yeah, just a bit,” Tony said, taking measured breaths to keep from dissolving again. “Fri, save that.” He continued drumming on Peter’s side, then helped him sit up, taking his seat back and guiding Peter to lie on his lap, his back aching from the slightly hunched position he’d used before. He pressed his lips into a tight line as Peter coughed openly, shaking his head and chuckling again. “Oh, Jesus,” he moaned when he heard the familiar hitched gasps and saw the classic expression cross Peter’s face. He went to lean for a tissue, but gave up upon realizing there was no way he’d have time. “Alright, go ahead,” he said, even though there was no way Peter was listening or with it enough to understand anyways. Tony leaned back, turning his head away and holding his hand flat an inch or two away from Peter’s face, shaking his head and rolling his eyes again as the kid started to sneeze again. While his love for Peter cut down on the grossness by a considerable margin, he never, ever would’ve thought that he’d be in this position, practically covering the kid’s face for him. He winced as he felt his hand get fucking misted, for fuck’s sake, and made a mental note to order some NyQuil for himself, knowing there’s no fucking way he won’t catch this cold from hell and already dreading it. “Buddy!” Tony groaned when the kid didn’t stop.

“S-s-sorry! I dod’t…I d-dod’t kdow how—” Peter stuttered between gasps, his eyelashes fluttering and a faint blush rising in his cheeks in spite of the Asgardian liquor pumping through his veins, fogging his mind and rendering his arms weak and floppy and useless.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay, just…let it out, it’s alright,” Tony said, leaning further back before he moved his hand, grabbing Peter under the arms and lifting him into a seated position in one swift movement—as muscular as he was, the kid weighed hardly anything. “Alright, alright, you’re okay,” Tony soothed, wrapping one arm around his ribs to keep him up and grabbing the entire box of tissues with the other.

The drink must’ve been stronger than Tony had even thought, because Peter just giggled, inhibitions out the window as he sneezed everywhere, Jesus Christ, and Tony was already itching to disinfect the entire room. Tony used his right hand—his clean hand—to rub at his forehead as he realized that Peter was in one of those fits again, the ones that drag on forever and ever. Of course, he would have a long, drawn-out sneezing attack the moment he was juuuust drunk enough to not be able to do a damn thing about it. Tony supposed that this would probably be the best practice for that baby he wanted, and held the kid close to keep him from falling, more worried about preventing him from cracking his head open on the coffee table than whether or not he got sneezed on for the millionth time in the past few months.

“Ewww,” Peter moaned when he got a breath in, holding his hands uselessly halfway to his face, aware enough of what was happening to be grossed out but not enough to be embarrassed or fix it.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, grabbing a few tissues and wiping the kid’s face, and fucking hell he was an absolute mess. Tony had seen the kid in some seriously brow-raising states before, but this one might have to take the cake. Peter’s hair looked like it had been stirred up with an egg beater, his eyes were red and puffy and watering steadily, starting to swell up so much that he couldn’t open them all the way. His face was pale save for flushed cheeks, his red, chapped lips were parted, and his nose was…Tony shuddered. He went to go hold the tissues over Peter’s face as he continued to sneeze over and over, but the kid squirmed, reeling back and pushing against Tony’s arm as hard as his weak muscles would allow.

“C-cad’t breathe!” He gasped before he sneezed again, and Tony’s chest clenched as sure enough, the shuddering rasps between sneezes were growing steadily tighter and higher in pitch.

“Okay, okay, we can fix that,” Tony said, panicking only slightly. “Are you…allergic to something or something?!” Tony asked as he propped the kid against the back of the couch, jumping up to get a neb started. Peter didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, just convulsed repeatedly, his neck starting to draw in sharply in between as he fought the sneezing fit for oxygen. “Okay, you’re alright, shhhhh,” Tony soothed, sitting back down and pulling Peter close, any “yuck” factor from before long gone as he focused only on holding the misting tube in front of Peter’s face, watching the kid rub at his eyes and running nose and try to scrub his face off. Tony sighed worriedly, tugging Peter in closer and resigning himself to a long few minutes.

“C’mon, buddy, work with me here,” Tony said, laughing as he tried to put a shirt on a still-tipsy, lanky spider-kid. Once the sneezing slowed down, Tony had taken one glance at the clock and cursed sharply. He’d managed to get Peter into a lukewarm shower despite the kid’s whining protests, hoping it would sober him up or at least help clear the insane congestion. It had done both, but neither very well. “Bless you, bubba,” Tony murmured after another handful of cringe-worthy sneezes, wiping the kid’s nose with a fresh tissue, not even caring anymore because he’d run out of fucks to give months ago. He was going to catch this cold, no doubt about it, so might as well unclench and help Peter in the meantime. “There we go, in the bed, perfect,” Tony coached, propping Peter up on pillows and tucking the covers up around him. “Blow,” he directed, holding a bundle of tissues to the kid’s face and hoping his sinuses would stay at least halfway clear long enough to allow him to fall asleep. At least the liquor got rid of any embarrassment or hesitation Peter could feel, and he did as he was told and blew heartily, actually seeming to make some progress.

After a few more nose blows, coughs, and sneezes, a dose of the honey cough syrup, multiple rounds of “goodnight’s” and “I love you’s,” and a few minutes of stroking his temple, Peter was out cold. Tony smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his fevered forehead before he turned the lamp off and crept out of the room, making sure to put the liquor carefully back in the box and clean up a bit before he sat with his StarkPad to wait for Pepper to get home.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

“Wait,” Pepper murmured, and Tony paused, already sitting up in bed and ready to go to Peter as the kid launched into another coughing fit. Tony peered at the clock, sighing sadly when he saw 3:56 A.M. “I’ll go,” Pepper said, and Tony smiled.

“Yeah?” He asked, and Pepper nodded with conviction.

“Yeah, you sleep, I got this. It’s time for a treatment, isn’t it?” Pepper asked, and Tony felt his chest swell with pride and love as he nodded.

“Yeah, 4:00. He could probably use another round of that cough syrup while we’re at it, it’s on the nightstand. I’ve been giving him 20 mls,” Tony said, and Pepper nodded, pressing a kiss to Tony’s lips and pushing him back down.

“Will do. You rest, okay?”

“P’p?”

Pepper laughed softly, palming Peter’s forehead before she trailed her hand down to cup his cheek.

“Yeah, honey, it’s me. Is that okay?”

Peter nodded emphatically, and Pepper melted.

“Here, I’m gonna turn on the light, okay? I’m gonna cover your eyes,” Pepper said, mimicking what she’d seen Tony do before. She covered his face with one hand and turned the light on with the other. While she was hoping to have some sort of magic skill that Tony didn’t, the trick didn’t work for her, either, and Peter gasped. “God bless you, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Pepper crooned, helping him sit up after he’d finished sneezing. “Here, let’s get a treatment and some medicine into you, okay?”

Less than half an hour later, Peter was all dosed up and back asleep, the room dark again, and Pepper sat on the side of his bed, stroking his forehead and allowing herself to relax into this new role. She’d tried to keep an arm’s length of distance from Peter, not wanting to get too attached, but it was useless. She’d never really pictured herself as the mothering type, but just like Tony, this kid had unlocked a side of her she didn’t even realize she’d had. Sitting in the dark, brushing curls off of a feverish kid’s forehead, Pepper Potts allowed herself to fall, to think, to feel. She finally allowed herself to picture herself in that role, and beyond that, to actively place herself there. She allowed herself to look at the peaceful lines of Peter’s sleeping face and think that maybe, just maybe, he could be hers, too.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Peter sniffled and aimed a cough into his elbow, continuing to trudge down the halls of Midtown towards the nurse’s office.

“Mr. Parker! It’s so nice to see you! How are you feeling, sugar?” Mrs. Carter said with a bright smile, getting up from her desk to greet him.

“Better, thank you,” Peter said with a polite smile, handing over the stupid note he had to bring. He felt like a little kid having to bring a doctor’s note for a fucking cold, but it wasn’t worth it to argue. He wouldn’t win, anyways; even if he argued his way out on principle, he’d still missed three school days in a row and it was policy to bring the damn note. Still, the teen felt foolish and patronized.

Mrs. Carter took the note, opening it and scanning it quickly before she nodded, turning her back to Peter to place the note in his file.

“Alright, dear, we’re all set. Do you need anything before class starts?”

Peter shook his head, fighting a wince after he swallowed.

“No, thank you, I’m good.”

“Okay, you head off, then. I’ll see you at lunch.” She smiled warmly at him—she was always so nice to him, but Peter had seen her get seriously tough on other kids if they tried to fake (or exaggerate) their way out of class. While he appreciated the kindness, in a way it almost made it worse. He didn’t want the normally-strict nurse to be all soft with him. He didn’t want to be treated differently, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it so he said his goodbyes and shuffled out of the room.

Peter’s cheeks flamed as he ducked into his wrist, tensing up as he stifled five sneezes as quietly as he possibly fucking could. It was last period, finally, and the strain of stuffing sneezes into quiet submission and swallowing back coughing fits had his shoulders, back, and abs all knotted up, as well as his sinuses pissed off, head pounding, throat burning, and lungs tight and congested. Peter felt MJ’s hand on his leg and shook his head quickly but didn’t move away. They’d scored the back table together for Physics, and while Peter appreciated being out of Flash’s sight, it didn’t help the way he felt. His breath hitched, and he could hear the congested wheeze cropping up but couldn’t do anything about it except try to keep it as quiet as possible. That time he opted instead to cup his left hand tightly to his face, pinching his nose hard and trying to keep the string of insistent sneezes (seven that time, it was so much worse when he tried to hold it back) as close to silent as he could. He caught Mrs. Warren shooting him an exasperated look as he lifted his head and flushed deeper.

“Stop doing that,” MJ said under her breath, low enough that only Peter could hear.

He didn’t bother responding, but just sighed wheezily, closing his mouth tightly to muffle a few coughs, cringing at the very audible congestion in his lungs. He closed his eyes for a moment as he ducked his head down and rubbed at his forehead, then tried once again to focus his attention back to the lesson.

“Peter, are you sure we shouldn’t call Happy? We can stop somewhere, sit until he gets here?”

Peter shook his head stubbornly, pulling his coat tighter around him and keeping his head ducked low against the freezing rain, allowing MJ and muscle memory to guide him to the subway station.

“We cad’t stop ndow.” He’d convinced Tony and May to let him go home by himself provided that MJ went with him, and while he was definitely beginning to regret not taking them up on a ride, he knew that if he stopped, his thermoregulation issues would take over and make everything so much worse.

“Peter, please, you sound really bad,” MJ pleaded worriedly.

“Emb, you dod’t get it,” Peter said, pulling her in close before he dropped his voice to a whisper, “spiders cad’t regulate their te’bperature. I cad’t stop, I have to keep goindg.” He punctuated the statement with a horrible, crackling cough into his elbow, swiping the cold rain off of his face and sniffling thickly before he tucked his head back down.

“We could stop somewhere, go inside somewhere. Peter, it’s in the 30’s and—”

“Please. Please just…please.” Peter looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, freezing cold rain dripping from his hair and face, and looking so miserable that MJ relented, not wanting to waste any more of his energy arguing.

“…okay. Okay, let’s just…let’s just go, then, I guess.”

“Peter, you have to stop doing that!” MJ hissed after Peter pinched his nose to hold back another round of sneezing.

“Ndoe tissues, godda be…really gross, just…just gotta get hombe.” Peter looked ready to drop at any moment, pale and shivering hard and soaked to the bone, his nose and cheeks bright red.

MJ bit her lip, placing her hand soothingly on his leg and trying to ignore the congested rasps coming from her boyfriend’s chest. The two sat in near silence, Peter struggling to make it home and MJ struggling to not freak out in the process.

“Peter…”

“Fuck!” Peter hissed, trying to keep one wrist pressed to the underside of his nose and using the other hand to unlock the door, but his hands were trembling so hard he couldn’t get the stupid key in the lock and he was honestly just tempted to cry and—

“Here, I got it, it’s okay,” MJ said in a voice reserved just for him, taking the keys from his ice cold, trembling fingers and swiftly unlocking the door. “Go get in the shower, right now. I’m closing my eyes while you get in but I’m not leaving you alone in there.” She spoke in a tone that left no room for argument, and honestly Peter was too tired and woozy to even care. If anything, some part of him was grateful that she’d made that call, because he definitely felt like he could pass out given the right circumstances. “Go, Peter, now,” MJ repeated when Peter just faltered, taking his backpack off, placing hers next to it by the door. She took off her own coat, then peeled his off, frowning as the racking shivers intensified. Gripping his bicep tightly, she all but dragged him into the bathroom, running the water and grabbing a towel and washcloth. She turned towards the corner of the room and pressed her hands over her eyes, but felt her heart lurch as she heart a stuffy whimper from behind her.

“Emb, I cad’t…I cad’t get it,” Peter whispered brokenly, sounding so weak and fragile that it made Michelle’s chest hurt.

“Okay, okay, it’s alright,” she soothed, turning around to help him out of his hoodie and two shirts, all three layers soaked straight through. She winced, her fingers brushing up against his skin and feeling the fever on him. His fingers trembled hard, too numb to undo the button on his pants. He blushed, unable to look her in the eye as she unfastened the button and unzipped his pants quickly and without comment, then brought one hand up to place two fingers gently under his chin, turning his head to force eye contact. “Do you need more help? It’s okay if you do, I won’t make it weird.”

Peter swallowed hard, then shook his head.

“Okay, I’m gonna turn back around now. Please be careful, babe, it’s not worth getting hurt.” MJ turned back and closed her eyes again, listening to her boyfriend shuffling clumsily out of the rest of his clothes.

“Okay, you’re good,” Peter croaked after a minute, and MJ turned around, facing the closed curtain and leaning against the sink counter, arms folded and face pinched in concern.

Peter closed his eyes, the warm water feeling incredible and beginning to chase away the chill that had seeped into his very soul. He leaned against the shower wall and took a minute to rest, his legs feeling like jelly and head stuffed with cotton. When the prickle in his sinuses cropped back up, he saw no reason to fight it anymore, nor did he have the energy to do so even if he wanted to, his breath hitching of its own accord.

MJ cringed as he sneezed hard, the sound coming not only from his nose and mouth but his chest, an audible popping, crackling sound layered under an already horrible-sounding sneeze.

“Oh mby god,” Peter moaned, bracing himself against the shower wall as his body continued, the sound of the mucus rattling and popping in his chest and throat making him wince in disgust. He coughed immediately after the handful of chesty, snotty sneezes, then groaned.

“Are you okay?!” MJ asked, sounding freaked out, and Peter nodded weakly before he blinked, realizing she couldn’t see him.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s gross.”

“It’s not gross, you can’t help it. I’m just worried about you, it sounds…really not great.”

“’S okay.” Peter shook his head to clear it, focusing on finishing up so he could lie the fuck down. “Thadks,” he rasped stuffily as a towel appeared over the top of the shower curtain after he’d turned the water off. He tied it securely around his waist, tugging on it to make sure it was extra tight given the high stakes, then drew the curtain back and stepped out into the steamy room with a thick, gurgling sniffle.

MJ shook her head at him, rolling her eyes, too worried to even stare at his muscles like she normally did.

“Come here,” she said, grabbing another towel and ignoring his blush as she dried his hair. “Why do guys never dry off after the shower? Do you enjoy freezing your ass off? What do you think the towel is for??” MJ scolded as she rubbed his head in the towel, then brought it down to pat down his arms and torso, shaking her head at him.

Peter giggled, having to laugh at how domestic the situation was, before he covered a rattling cough with one hand.

“Where are your clothes?”

“Pajamas are second drawer,” Peter mumbled, the heat of the shower combined with the strain of the day and the returning fever making him loopy and confused.

MJ returned quickly, a cocky smirk on her face.

“You have got to be kidding,” she said incredulously, barely holding back laughter as she held up a pair of Spider-Man-themed boxer briefs. Peter groaned, blushing hard and covering his face with his hands.

“Uggghhhh. It was a gag gift!”

“Mmhm. Sure it was. Get dressed,” MJ said handing him the pile of clothes and shaking her head with an amused smile before she turned back around, covering her eyes and continuing to giggle.

“Stop!!!” Peter whined, but MJ wasn’t able to take him seriously until he coughed hard, the girl fighting the urge to turn around and help him. She forced herself to stay put out of respect for his privacy, but bit her lip hard as she listened to his lungs rattle around in his chest. The congestion definitely sounded…looser than before, a thought that would’ve disgusted MJ if she weren’t so worried for him or, let’s face it, if it were anyone other than Peter.

“You okay?” She asked finally, and received a wheezy sigh in response.

“Yeah. You cand turnd back,” Peter sighed, and she didn’t hesitate to spin on her heels. She watched him pull a shirt over tight, toned muscles and forced her lingering gaze elsewhere—not the time, not the place. Once he was dressed, she led her drippy, stumbling boyfriend to the couch, guiding him down and handing him a box of tissues.

“I’m gonna go get changed, and you need to blow your nose. All the way. I’m serious,” she said, and Peter nodded. MJ did as she’d promised, grabbing a change of clothes from his dresser and heading into the bathroom to change out of her own wet clothes. She smiled as she slipped the soft t-shirt over her head, relishing the way it smelled like Peter and hung slightly on her slight frame. She had to tie the drawstring tightly, but all in all Peter wasn’t that much bigger than she was, just fucking ripped. She stepped out, grabbing a plastic bag for her clothes and blushing at the dopey smile she got from Peter when he saw what she was wearing.

“How do you look better in my clothes than I do?” He asked, and she giggled.

“Who knows, maybe you can work a dress better than me.” She laughed at the thought, and he joined in, humming happily as she joined him on the couch.

“This is nice,” he whispered after a moment, and she pulled him in close, grabbing the remote to pull something up while they waited for May to get off work.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “it is.”

“Oh, Peter,” May said as she caught one of the lung-rattling, chesty sneezes from Peter immediately upon walking in.

Peter shook his head, trying to wave her off as he immediately followed the fit with a volley of nasty coughs that rattled his lungs like a pair of maracas in his chest.

“Honey!” May fussed, dropping her belongings and rushing to wash her hands before she came back and palmed his forehead. “You’re running a fever! That’s it, from now on, you’re not going back to school so soon. I gave you the benefit of the doubt this time, but your body just wasn’t ready.”

“Plus he spent the whole day trying to hide it,” MJ tattled, and Peter gave her a wounded look.

“Peter Benjamin, we’ve talked about this!” May softened only after he started to cough again, handing him a tissue and rubbing his back. “It does sound like it’s breaking up, though,” she admitted, noting that the loose crackling was usually a sign that the infection was on its way out, the poor kid’s lungs beginning to release the thick mucus and allow him to get it up and out. It didn’t gross her out (and very little did), but he always hated this stage of the illness. Being stuffed up is horrible, but Peter almost hated the loosened congestion, box-of-tissues-at-a-time phase more.

“My mom’s gonna be here in a minute,” MJ said, and May turned to her with a warm smile.

“Thank you so much for staying with him. Do you want anything to eat before you go?”

MJ smiled brightly and shook her head.

“No, thank you, I’m alright!”

May nodded, sitting down with a sigh.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m off tomorrow, because somebody’s staying home again,” May said with a pointed look at Peter, and the teen sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and May’s tough exterior cracked slightly.

“Honey, it’s not your fault. You just need to learn when to stop. You’re not doing yourself any favors by doing this, you know that, right?”

Peter nodded, pressing his lips together in a disappointed half-frown.

“Yeah. I’ll…I’ll work on it.”

May chuckled.

“Well, you probably won’t, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Tony aimed a dry cough into his shoulder, shaking his head and rubbing at his forehead. He reached for the Io-flap-whatever, huffing a sigh as he prepared to crack the bottle open.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?!”

Tony spun around, looking at Pepper like a deer in headlights, the bottle of liquor in one hand.

“Pep!”

“Tony, you can’t drink that?! It’ll kill you! Plus you’re not even supposed to be drinking, you heard what they said! They could drop in for the home inspection at any point. If they see that, we might lose the adoption!!!”

Tony sighed, rubbing at his forehead again and trying to blink away the pounding headache.

“It’s barely a drink, Pep, I was…” he sighed again, figuring it was better to swallow his pride and tell the truth than allow Pepper to think he was slipping back into old habits, “I was making a toddy.”

Pepper heard the slight stuffy tone in his voice, and everything clicked.

“Oh, no…” she moaned, and Tony nodded, swallowing with a pained wince. “Aww, well at any rate, the mother of all hangovers probably won’t help. Go sit down, and I’ll make you some tea?”

Tony nodded again, giving in and shuffling over to the couch, collapsing onto it and pressing his knuckles into his eyes, trying not to focus on the sharp, aching pressure behind the sockets.

“Thank you,” he mumbled when Pepper returned with a mug of tea, not bothering to hide another cough. Pepper held the mug out to him, but he shook his head, cupping one hand over his mouth and nose before he ducked down with a quiet but dry and painful sneeze.

“Awww, bless you!” Pepper crooned, giving him that look that she gave Peter, palming his forehead after she handed him the mug and surprised when he let her. “No fever. At least you don’t sound as congested as Peter did,” she said, stroking his cheek as he rolled his eyes and huffed.

“I don’t think anyone’s as congested as Peter, ever. That kid is a walking snot factory.”

Pepper laughed, taking a seat next to her ailing husband.

“Yeah, I know. Look where it got you.”

“Bless,” Pepper murmured from beside Tony in bed, still focused on her book. The man groaned, wondering how Peter must feel, as just one cough or sneeze of a pretty average intensity was enough to make him want to decapitate himself, much less the constant handfuls and fits that the poor kid suffered through all the time.

“Fucking kids,” Tony grumbled with a sniffle, and Pepper laughed.

“Yeah, well, keep your man-flu over there, won’t you? I’m not ready for that side of parenthood yet.”

Tony gave her a wounded look, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest with an indignant scoff.

“Man-flu?!”

“Look, honey, I feel for you, I really do, I’m just saying that men can get a little bit drama—”

“Ugh!” Tony griped, and Pepper smiled. “You didn’t accuse Peter of being dramatic.”

“Well, there is a bit of a difference in scale here. He was so sick, poor baby. I hope he’s doing better.”

“May texted me, he’s running a fever again, she’s keeping him home tomorrow.”

“Awww, poor thing!” Pepper said sadly, and Tony shook his head, being intentionally dramatic, as always.

“Mm, mm, mm. Never mind that the little shit gave me this,” Tony said, crossing his arms with an exaggerated huff.

Pepper laughed again, able to tell that her husband wasn’t serious.

“Well go ahead, get as sick as he did and then you can get babied, too. Would you rather that?” She asked, eyebrow cocked.

Tony faltered, then shook his head, leaning over to knock on the nightstand just in case.

“No. No, I really wouldn’t.” He cut the act, settling back against the headboard and returning to his StarkPad. He liked messing with Pepper like that, seeing how long she would let him go on before she stopped entertaining it.

As the night went on, however, Tony found himself not having to play up his symptoms at all. The cold had come on slowly all day, starting the night before as a tickle in his throat that he forced himself to ignore until he’d woken up with that telltale blocked nose and dread in his gut. He sneezed sharply into his elbow, cringing after a thick sniffle and clearing his throat before he returned to his StarkPad.

“Honey,” Pepper said softly, and he looked up.

“Huh?” He asked stuffily, and Pepper frowned, pressing the backs of her fingers to his cheek.

“You’re being quiet. You’re never quiet.”

Tony gave her a look.

“Thanks?”

“Well…” Pepper said with a shrug and a gentle smile. “It’s true. Do you want some NyQuil, babe?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Tony said, and Pepper narrowed her eyes. Tony operated ass-backwards, as always, and Pepper had been with him long enough to know better: a whiny, dramatic Tony was more or less fine, but when he got all quiet and stoic, that’s when she knew he was actually feeling bad.

“I”m gonna go get it,” she said, starting out of bed when Tony caught her arm.

“No, I’m serious, it’s okay. It’s really not that bad. It’s a normal, everyday cold. Definitely not bad enough to have a NyQuil hangover all day tomorrow.”

Pepper looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of a lie. Not finding one, she sighed and got back in bed.

“Alright, I trust you,” she said simply, and Tony squinted.

“That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, don’t mess it up.”

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

Tony groaned in frustration, squinting down at the suit helmet and trying again to focus. He didn’t get very far, having to jerk back and turn his head into his shoulder to sneeze roughly once, then again before he coughed hard. He heard a sympathetic tut from the back of the room and spun around, startled to see Pepper standing there.

“Tony,” she said softly, frowning at the circles under his eyes and the red flush around his nose. “Why don’t you call it for tonight, hm?”

“I’m fine,” Tony said, breaking back off into a cough before he straightened. “It’s a bit of a pain in the ass, but it’s all good.” He capped the statement with a juxtaposing sneeze into his elbow, and Pepper raised an eyebrow.

“Tony.”

“Alright, alright,” the genius grumbled, setting his work down and plucking a tissue from the box on the desk to swipe it under his nose with a liquid sniffle.

“Come on, I’m assuming you haven’t eaten all day?”

Tony shrugged, and Pepper got her answer, leading him back up to the penthouse.

“Wonton soup?” She guessed, and Tony nodded, uncharacteristically quiet as he plopped onto the couch. Pepper called to place the order, and Tony didn’t even care to correct her, where usually he’d say something about making an entire AI to do things like that. Instead he just tucked his chin to his chest, rubbing at his temples with both hands and feeling the migraine coming on. A sudden spike of pain made him hiss, and soon Pepper’s cool fingers were taking over, massaging small circles into his temples. She paused to feel his forehead, and hummed. “You feel a little warm, but not feverish, really. Do you want your rescue meds?” Pepper was no stranger to Tony’s migraines, and she was surprised when he paused for a moment, then nodded. She wasn’t used to him giving in so quickly, and frowned as she realized he must be feeling worse than he was letting on. “Okay, love, hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“Bless you,” Pepper said with a sympathetic laugh, and Tony moaned, blowing his nose.

He could feel the mixture of migraine medication and NyQuil starting to kick in, and slumped down in the bed, his eyes growing far too heavy for 10 pm.

“Get some rest, honey, you’ll feel better if you do,” Pepper hummed, reaching over to card her fingers through his hair.

Tony nodded, trying to mumble something but unable to get the words to form properly, feeling the medication starting to take him under. He made a mental note to maybe try some fucking vitamins in the future, since clearly he’d be spending a lot of time around a sick, snotty kid from now on.

Pepper huffed a soft laugh, hearing the stuffy snores start up as Tony drifted off. She made a note to order some vitamins, or maybe echinacea, and force it down Tony’s throat if she had to. They were serious about adopting Peter, and about having a baby, so she’d definitely have to bump up his immune system from the looks of it. She scrolled and clicked on her phone, placing the order quickly before she turned out the lamp and rested back herself, curling into Tony’s side and making a mental note to take a few of the vitamins herself when they came in. Her immune system was thankfully much stronger than Tony’s, and definitely stronger than even Peter’s lately, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt, as she hugged her snoring husband close and drifted off to sleep.