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Peter's skin was hot to the touch, sweat coated his skin only adding to his discomfort. Aunt May had left for the weekend, Peter could watch himself for two days. What he wasn't expecting was to end up sick, he'd hardly even got a cold since the spider bite.
Peter's vision blurred as he sat up in his bed, his stomach lurching causing him to vomit on the floor beside him. His eyes watered, his throat burning as he gagged in disgust. Trying to blink away the blur, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
The world spun, his head rung. His eyes rolling back into his head before he fell unconscious into the pile of throw up. Minutes or years later he awoke, Peter cringed away from the stench. He felt the dried crust of it on his skin, sweat and vomit soaking his clothes.
Hoisting himself up with trembling arms, failing several times before he finally sat up. Crawling to the bathroom left him panting and winded, coughing harshly until the vomit shot up again. The sweat returned, and the tears did as well. Peter dragged himself the rest of the way.
A cry of relief escaped his throat as he felt the cool tile against his palms. Letting his body fall, he began burrowing into the cool tile. It felt so good, pressing his forehead against the toilets stand he sighed in content. He wouldn't be for long, hours passed of Peter sobbing in agony, vomiting until there was nothing left in his stomach.
All he could do was dry heave, it hurt so badly. He slept in a new pile of vomit, wishing to cool down. His vision hadn't cleared, and everything kept spinning faster than before. He was so tired, sore, his head pounding. He just wanted it to end.
Oh no, he missed patrol! What if someone got hurt? Wait, wouldn't Aunt May have called by now? He probably missed her calls, she must be worried. He could imagine her face if she found him like this, covered in vomit and sweat. She'd have a heart attack.The thought of her being here made him wail, he wanted to be comforted. He didn't want to be here all alone covered in filth.
Peter's eyes rolled back once again, pulling him into the vast expanse of unconsciousness.
---
Tony sighed, Peter was supposed to come over for some suit advancements. But Spider-Man hadn’t even been in the news, nor had he been answering his calls. It was making him anxious, especially when May had called him asking if he could check up on Peter because he hadn’t been answering the phone.
That’s what led to him to now, driving over the parkers home, using the spare key May had gifted him.
“Hey kid?” He called, the house was quiet but a familiar smell was in the air. Vomit. This sent Tony down the hall, there was vomit on the ground, from Peter’s room to the bathroom. Tony peaked in, seeing Peter unconscious on the ground.
Tony dropped beside Peter, mindful of the vomit before pressing the back of his hand to Peter’s cheek. He was burning. Peter whimpered at the contact, Tony frowned, grabbing a towel off of the racks before wetting it and cleaning off the dried throw up.
He hoisted Peter out of the filth, removing the kid’s dirtied clothes. Peter came to then, confused that he was being moved around. His vision was too blurry to make out who was even helping him, but his senses weren’t going off. Then again most of his senses were too clouded to be taken seriously.
Tony left the kid in his boxers to save his dignity, before getting the kid in the shower and cleaning him off. Tony wasn’t the nursing type, but he found it odd how easily he fell into caring for Peter. He even washed the kid's hair, Peter leaned into the touch and Tony couldn’t help but smile.
Grabbing another towel he bundled Peter up, he hadn’t noticed Peter woke up and carefully lifted Peter slowly. With Peter as sick as he was, he knew if he wasn’t careful, Peter would only get worse. His head had to be pounding. Peter’s head lolled on Tony’s shoulder, Peter wasn’t quite sure who was helping him but he was happy for the human contact.
His clammy skin no longer felt warm but freezing, so he was happy someone was here to care for him. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he nuzzled into the figure for warmth and comfort. Tony held tight, his eyebrow raising when he felt Peter nuzzling into him.
“Yeah buddy I’m here,” Tony assured, before attempting to put Peter down on his bed. Peter weakly held back, trying to nuzzle into Tony once more. He whimpered not wanting to let go of the only reassuring contact, and Tony sighed seeing the boys tears.
The kid was so emotionally and physically worn out, he couldn’t handle it and sobbed. Tony sighed, pulling the kid into his lap. Peter burrowed closer, so pleased to have someone there. Tony ran a hand through Peter’s hair, threading his finger’s through his nape keeping Peter close.
“It’s okay,” Tony comforted, until Peter succumbed to exhaustion. Tony called Aunt May letting her know Peter had caught a touch of the flu, and he’d take care of him until she got back.