Work Text:
Rhodey punches in the code for the lab and walks in when the door slides open, only to stop when he finds Tony slumped over a workbench. He was staring off into the distance, eyes glazed over, and seemingly oblivious to the kitten hanging over his shoulder. The colonel had no idea where the cat came from, but he was more worried about the familiar sign of sick radiating around his best friend. He had actually come down to the lab to inform Tony that both Peter and Stephen were down for the count, but it looked liked the whole family caught the flu.
Peter got it first. Probably from school, and Stephen always coddled the teen when he wasn't feeling well so that was how the sorcerer caught it a day later, and since he and Tony shared a bed...
This family was going to be the death of him. Ever since Peter had become a permanent part of their lives, Tony and Stephen were a lot more touchy-feely because the teen loved (and was used to) some form of physical contact. Both men used to be put-off by just the thought of unnecessary contact, leaving that for the bedroom, then Peter broke down those walls faster than he could say 'yeet'. The doctor was actually the first one to cave completely. Tony wasn't far behind. They both loved the kid too much to care about their own insecurities or aversions.
"Tones, what are you doing down here?" Rhodey asks with a heavy sigh.
The engineer slowly blinks into reality and glances at the colonel. "Workin'." The man slurs.
"Staring off into space is your idea of work now? Come on. Up to bed. We'll throw all three of you in one room."
The billionaire must have really been feeling like crap because he didn't argue and let Rhodey take him to the elevator and back up to bed. Stephen was already buried under mounds of blankets, and someone must have had the same idea as Rhodes because Peter was snuggled up against the sorcerer. It was also a possibility that the teen dragged himself into the master bedroom for comfort.
Rhodey gently takes the mystery kitten off of Tony before the genius silently crawls back into bed, and Tony slumps into his cool pillow with a pitiful groan. Neither of the bed's other occupants stirred, so Rhodey assumed they managed to fall into a deep sleep, which was good. The kitten in his hands had its own ideas and jumped back onto the bed to curl back up in the space between Tony's shoulder and his neck.
Rhodey throws his hands up. "I'm not dealing with that right now. Tony, you have a cat for now." The engineer mumbles into his pillow. "What?"
"He's Peter's. His name is Tibbs."
Rhodey snorts. Tibbs obviously wasn't just Peter's. "Whatever. Go to sleep. Someone will feed you guys later."
The colonel leaves the room, muttering something about not wanting to get sick himself, and Tony watches the sleeping duo on the other side of the bed lazily. This was the worst strain of the flu he had yet. Normally if he was sick, he could still work through it (much to Stephen's annoyance) but now he felt like he was in a daze and kept nodding off every ten minutes.
Like now.
He fell asleep for a couple of hours and when he woke up again, Peter was curled up against him and Stephen was missing from the bed. Before Tony could wonder where he was, the unmistakable sound of retching could be heard from the bathroom. Poor Stephen was going through the worst of it.
Once everything goes quiet and a few minutes pass in relative quiet, the toilet flushes and the sorcerer stumbles out of the bathroom looking haggard and crawls back into bed.
"Are you pregnant?" Tony jokes hoarsely over Peter's head and Stephen grabs a spare pillow to smack the engineer with.
"Douchebag."
"You'll hit the baby."
Stephen sighs and pulls the pillow away as Peter stirs. "...not a baby..." The teen mumbles.
Tibbs mewls from his spot curled against Tony's collarbone and the teen reaches up to pet the kitten. "How are you feeling Underoos?"
"Like garbage." Peter mutters.
"Nauseous?" Tony asks.
"No. Not yet at least."
Tony nods and Peter asks FRIDAY to turn on a Disney movie. They would all likely fall asleep, but it was nice background noise at the very least. Tony and Peter watched the movie, but Stephen just turned over and tried to go back to sleep. He was too tired and feeling too sick to do much of anything else, but then Vision knocked and entered with three steaming bowls of soup, and the sorcerer pulls a face at the thought of food. The other two accepted the food and ate slowly since their appetites were all but gone, and Vision set Stephen's on the nightstand beside him before leaving just as quietly as he came. For a couple of minutes, Stephen stared at the bowl after finally making himself sit up, and then finally relents to logic even though his stomach was rolling. He wouldn't get better if he didn't eat and stay hydrated, and even if it did come back up, it was better than dry heaving.
Two spoonfuls later, Peter found the doctor staring at his soup again. "Can't really taste it either?"
Stephen blinks up at him. "It's good to know it's not just me."
"Bucky probably made it too." Tony says. "Is it helping the nausea?"
"A bit...I hope it stays that way. Would be a waste of food otherwise."
Tony scruffs Tibbs and gently drops the purring kitten into his husband's lap. "Your turn. Pretty sure you need him more than we do anyway."
The sorcerer gazes down at the kitten momentarily then returns his attention to his soup. He was able to eat half of it before having to set it back on the nightstand. He was afraid if he ate anymore he would increase the risk of bringing it back up. He barely made it to the bathroom the first time since Peter liked to cling, and he wouldn't have if the teen used his spider grip.
"I don't recognize this movie." Stephen says as lays down and makes himself comfortable, and Tibbs settles on the sorcerer's chest, purring quietly.
This cat really just went the the flow of things. He may be Peter's, but he had special ways to bond with Tony and Stephen, especially when the teen wasn't home. When the vigilante was home, the kitten followed him everywhere. When he wasn't, it really depended on who was. If it was Tony, Tibbs would sit on the engineer's shoulder whether he was in the lab, in the office having a meeting, or even in the kitchen making a meal or having a snack. Usually if that was the case, Tony fed him scraps. If it was Stephen, the tabby would sleep on his chest if the doctor was taking one of his rare naps, play with Levi if the cloak swatted him playfully, or just simply sat in his lap while he meditated. Tibbs was like a feline version of Peter.
"It's an old classic. Actually older than both of you." Peter says.
"Ouch." Tony remarks but the teen ignores him.
"The Sword in the Stone." He finishes as he gives his empty bowl to Tony, who sets both on his nightstand.
Stephen hums and closes his eyes. "Go back to sleep when it's over, and if you cling, please continue to refrain from using your grip."
"Okay." The teen says.
For once, Tony didn't have a sarcastic remark. Or more like he did but he wasn't feeling up to being snarky. None of them were. It was a refreshing change not having to trade half-assed insults with the man. Not that he didn't enjoy it either. They were both arrogant and sarcastic but they both still needed the rare break from their special banter.
Peter was probably sighing internally with relief at the prospect, and that he wouldn't be caught quite literally in the middle of it.
"Pete, I have to say, if you come home sick again, we are quarantining you. This is the worst." Tony grumbles after another twenty minutes.
Stephen cracks one of his eyes open. "We'll just throw him at Wanda and Vision. She can cook, and Vision can get Peter whatever he needs without the risk of getting sick."
Tony's chuckles turns into harsh coughs, but he grins nonetheless. "Good plan. We're too old to be fighting off illnesses."
The sorcerer snorts. "Speak for yourself."