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Peter is miffed and upset.
Doombots are swarming the city as he pads through his room in Stark Tower, as he was considered benched for the time being. His last patrol left him banged up with an explosive embedded in an office building, knocking him out (but not before he got everyone out of there). Immediately after, he gets sick with the flu because his body's too busy recovering from a-bomb-to-the-everything syndrome.
So now his less-than-thermoregulating body is fluctuating between hot and cold and unpleasant, he has a headache, a pressure in the bridge of his nose, and he's miserable. His boyfriends are out there trying to take out Dr. Doom's latest pet project — hell, this is Harley's second stint as Ironclad, and he's missing it — and he's sitting inside, sick and alone and miserable.
"Fri, please turn on their feeds to the fight," Peter requests weakly, collapsing into his bed with an "oof" as two separate feeds get projected into his bedroom walls. FRIDAY doesn't even asks for clarification, streaming from the Ironclad armor and Johnny's suit. The sounds of clanging and impact and superhero quipping get to be a bit too much for him, sick in bed with worry. "Lower the feed volume to 15%, please."
He sighs in relief, trying to lull himself to sleep with the sounds of the battlefield and of his boyfriends' natural banter. He tries everything, counts backwards from 8 to regulate his breathing, closing his eyes and letting go of every thought, focusing on the minute sounds coming from the battle. Hell, he even tries to fall asleep to the playlist Steve puts on to make Mr. Stark fall asleep.
None of it works until he remembers a very crucial point: he has a hard time falling asleep alone. Either with just Harley or just Johnny or both (both always works best), it's what helps him get a good night's rest. Unfortunately, based on the footage, the fight's barely started and they don't have a lead as to where the horde is coming from just yet. And Peter's so, so tired, swaying when he sits up.
With a groan, he shuffles to the dresser, opening a drawer that contains some of his most prized possessions. He digs through knick-knacks and mementos with stumbling hands until he hits soft fabric. His breath hitches as he pulls out two articles of clothing: one of Johnny's button-ups and one of Harley's pullover sweaters. Peter buries his face in both, smelling what he can of his boyfriends while they're away. He can feel himself heading to sleep already.
He pulls his sleep shirt up and over his head, putting on the button-up first then the sweater, letting the collar peek through, feeling infinitely warmer now than he was earlier. Content, he falls back into his bed, hugging a pillow as the warmth and smells of expensive cologne and motor oil send him back to dreamland.
Later, the dispatched team comes home and is debriefed before letting them return to their domiciles. Johnny forgoes hitching a ride back to Baxter building to join Harley at Stark Tower.
Harley recalls his suit back to the workshop, stripping from his underarmor with a hiss, seeing bumps and bruises starting to bloom in his tanned skin. "Ugh, Doombots are the worst," he complains, they'll definitely turn purple and ugly even later.
"That they are, babe," Johnny replies, looking his boyfriend over in the full-length mirror of the communal bathroom they're in. "Don't worry, you still look hot as hell to me," he smirks, pressing a kiss to Harley's cheek. To his credit, he doesn't blush at Johnny's quip. Instead, Harley mutters "ugh, enhanced people," hopping in for a quick shower to get all the gross sweat and grime off him.
"You think our own enhanced boy's okay?" Johnny says, echoing in the shower amidst the spray of hot water hitting Harley's back. "We kinda left him high and dry when he's sick."
Harley sighs, guilt eating away at him. "We really should've had someone stay behind, but I think he understands why we both had to go. It didn't take that long, did it?"
There's a sound of rustling, Johnny taking his own suit off. "Yeah, but he was looking forward to fighting alongside your new armor, couldn't shut up about it when you were locked up in the 'shop trying to get new upgrades in."
Harley huffs, turning off the shower. "Then he shouldn't have gotten hit with a bomb then gotten sick in the first place," he says, sniffing. He towels himself off, steps out with the towel wrapped around his shoulder.
"C'mon, hon," Johnny says, slinging his arms on Harley's neck, leaning their foreheads together. "You know you're the level-headed voice of reason between the three of us," he kisses Harley on the lips, chaste, grinning when he pulls away. "We wouldn't know what to do without you."
Harley rolls his eyes, kissing him again for good measure before pulling away. "Go take a shower, you reek," he grouses, pushing Johnny towards the direction of the shower.
"Aw, no shower sex?" Johnny says, wiggling his brows suggestively as Harley tosses him a clean towel. Harley sighs.
"You should've thought of that before I took a shower, darlin'," he reminds him, crossing his arms. "And, I don't think Peter would appreciate missing out on that too," he smirks, turning around when Johnny makes an offended noise.
"Wow. You didn't need to pull out the hard punches, Keener," he says as the shower turns back on.
Harley throws him an unseen side-eye. "You'll live."
"Fri, where's Pete?" Harley asks.
"Young Boss is currently in his room," she replies. He's in the communal kitchen now, making mugs of coffee for him and Johnny, as the latter is in the balcony taking a call from his sister. "He is due for medication in 12 minutes. Dr. Cho's prescription suggests taking them with some food and liquids."
"Thanks," Harley nods, taking out a tray and putting their mugs there. Harley takes his black with a bit of sugar, Johnny with a splash of milk and no sugar. He also fills up a tall glass with icewater and places it on the side.
He looks out to the balcony where Johnny's phone call conversation is getting a little intense. Even in the dim light, he can see Johnny's fingertips start to spark. Harley sighs, shaking his head as he toasts up some bread and takes a jar of blueberry jam from the fridge. He puts those on a plate and onto the tray as well. "Fri, tell Johnny to come up to Peter's room when he's done with his call."
"Will do."
Thus begins the trek, balancing a tray as he walks into Peter's room. The door sliding open is a small mercy. "Fri, lights to 25%," he says, eyes squinting to adjust to the dimmed lighting.
He sets the tray on a dresser next to the door, "Fri, where's Peter's meds?" he whispers. A warm spotlight highlights a spot on one of the bedside tables, thankfully the one Peter's facing away from. Harley nods, taking the pillbox and putting it on the tray, then bringing it all to the bed.
"Babe," he coaxes Peter out of sleep by running his fingers through his hair. "Babe, you gotta take your medication," he says again, until Peter's eyes open, half-lidded.
"Hmm?" Peter hums, blinking slowly a few times as he comes to consciousness. "Harls?"
"That's me," he says, half-smiling. "Can you sit up for me, love?"
Peter manages just so with a little help from Harley. That's when he notices what Peter's wearing and a burst of warm feelings hits him, leaving him smiling goofily. "So that's where my sweater went," Harley comments wryly, smile not leaving his face.
"S'my favorite," Peter defends weakly, crossing his arms with a pout. Harley smiles.
"You can keep it, it looks good on you," he runs his hand through Peter's hair again to loosen the matted strands, making Peter sigh in relief. He also notices the collar peeking out of his gray sweatshirt. "Something of Johnny's, too?"
Peter nods, humming. "Couldn't sleep without you," he says, making a little displeased noise when Harley pulls away from his scalp. "Why'd you stop?" he whines.
"You need to take your medication, honey," Harley reminds him, popping open a pillbox compartment. "Can you keep some food down right now?"
Peter hums, "maybe a couple bites."
"Want some jam with it too? I brought blueberry," Harley asks, spreading a thin layer on the corner when Peter nods. Peter makes a little 'aaahhh' noise as he opens his mouth when Harley hands the piece of toast to him.
Peter manages to swallow down a couple bites before putting the remaining toast on the plate. Then Harley hands him his pills and the glass of water, which Peter also diligently takes. "Good," Harley says, kissing Peter on the cheek. He dips Peter's toast in his coffee to finish it off, leaving the other slice for Johnny when he comes in.
Finally, finally, after a long 30-minute argument with Sue, Johnny can turn off his phone and stalk back inside. He's nearly set off their fire alarm twice, and only the thought of Peter bedridden kept him calm through the entire ordeal. He even nearly chucked his phone off the side of the building, he's just that pissed.
"Good evening, Mr. Storm. Harley and Young Boss are in the latter's room in the 86th floor," Stark's omnipresent Tower AI — who is she again? something about a day of the week, he'll remember eventually — tells him. Johnny grunts out a thanks, crossing his arms moodily as spotlights lead him to where he needs to go.
He stands in the hallway outside of Peter's room, pacing the length of the hallway to calm himself down before entering the room. Peter is sick, Harley is tired, and he doesn't need to bring in any frustration in the room when they all need rest.
"Family giving you shit, kid?" says Bucky Barnes, appearing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed as he leans on the wall.
Johnny huffs, nodding tensely. "Something like that, yeah."
Barnes stalks a bit closer until they're an arm's length from each other. Johnny has to look up to see eye-to-eye with the supersoldier, intense gray eyes scrutinising him for a split second. "Family's important," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "But to live your life, you're gonna need to disappoint family for a bit." He nods to the direction of Peter's doorway. "Your partners need you."
Johnny tilts his head, gesturing to Stark's. "And yours too."
They exchange a moment of understanding, soft half-smiles, before they part ways.
When Johnny enters Peter's room, the lights are so dimmed down that he can barely see the two figures on the bed. Johnny rolls his shoulders back and sighs, knowing fully well that Peter would be able to hear him.
He shrugs off his shirt and tosses it aside somewhere. He slides into his side of the bed at Peter's right. Harley's already out, snoring softly as Peter's lap pillows his head. "Hey," Johnny says softly, putting his arm across Peter's shoulders, letting him lean his head on his chest.
"Hi," Peter says, one hand in Harley's hair and another a few inches away from a StarkPad replaying that day's commotion. "You holding up okay?"
Johnny huffs, "I should be the one asking you that, babe."
Peter shrugs. "Figured something was up when you didn't come in with Harley," and really, Johnny shouldn't have doubted Peter's observation skills. Sharp as they are even when he's recovering from illness. "Just wanna make sure my boys are okay."
"Better now that I'm here with you," Johnny says, pressing a kiss to the crown of Peter's head, notices something in the corner of his eye. "Is that my button-up?"
"Maybe?" Peter says meekly, trying to make himself smaller and burrow into his boyfriend shirt-sweater combo. "They're nice and warm, and I couldn't sleep without either of you."
"Looks better on you anyway, sweetheart," Johnny says, a pang of sadness upon hearing Peter's confession. "You can keep it."
"S'what Harley said too," Peter says, thankful that the dim lighting hides his blush so well. Even if Johnny does notice, he can hide behind the excuse of both his boyfriends being human furnaces. The perfect companion to a non-thermoregulating spider, or someone trying to hide a blush.
"Great minds think alike," Johnny comments. "I think that's enough after-dinner entertainment, don't you think?" he says, plucking the tablet from Peter's hands and turning it off. "You should get some rest, babe."
Peter tilts his head before sighing, feeling a bit more of the exhaustion setting back in from earlier. "You're right," he says like a confession, lying back down and adjusting Harley so he's spooning Peter's back, arms slinging lower onto Peter's waist. "Was just waiting for both of you to get in my bed."
"Mr. Parker, you saucy minx," Johnny quips with a smirk, lying down as well. He lets Peter swat him as he rests his cheek on Johnny's warm expansive chest.
"Not what I meant," Peter mumbles, eyes already falling shut. He lets his hand stay over Johnny's heart, the consistent rhythm lulling him back to sleep. "Love you."
"Love you too," Johnny returns with a little lovesick smile, reaching down a little to kiss Peter on the lips, chaste and sweet.
Johnny runs his left arm under Peter, snaking between Harley's chest and pressing onto the small of Peter's back. Then he reaches over and interlaces his right hand with one of Harley's. Finally, he twines all their legs together. An underlying feeling of contentment runs through the completed circuit, safe and fulfilled.
Finally, finally, Johnny can close his eyes to rest.
Yeah, he'll disappoint his family any day. If it means he can keep this, if he can keep his boys close and safe and with him for as long as he can.