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Peter was taken out of his slumber with a chest-rattling cough that has him shooting up in bed, struggling to get air into his lungs. The fit was short-lived but when it’s over, it leaves him breathless and slightly lightheaded, bent over his lap. He reaches a hand up and rubs at his aching chest, brows pulling together. He’s had this pesky cough since waking up on Thursday morning, since he and Morgan both got caught in the rain the day before when they were swimming in the lake, despite Tony and Pepper’s warning of afternoon showers.
It was now creeping into the early morning hours of Saturday, and Peter’s certain that he’s sick.
Peter coughs again into his elbow, letting out a wheezy breath. He glances over at the alarm clock on his nightstand, the red glowing lights reading three-fifteen. He’s struggled the entire night to get any sleep with the constant need to cough and blow his runny nose, as well as not being able to fully lie down. Judging by the horribly achy, burning sensation going on in his chest, he doesn’t think this is just some ordinary cold. If it is, he would already be healed up by now.
Giving up on trying to go back to sleep, Peter untangles himself from the blankets and forces himself out of bed, grabbing his fluffy red and blue plaid bathrobe that May bought him for his birthday a few months ago, and slips it on, tying it loosely around his waist.
The hallway was dark when he steps out of his room, the hardwood floor horribly cold under his bare feet as he pads over to the stairs. Light was glowing at the bottom, which meant that Tony was awake, probably sitting in the living room on the couch where Peter usually found him this time of night when sleeping was particularly hard for both of them, nightmares usually to blame.
Peter braces a hand on the railing as he makes his way down the steps slowly, feeling like he’s being weighed down by exhaustion. By the time he reaches the bottom, he finds Tony sitting on the couch with the TV on, playing reruns of House Hunters International, the volume playing softly. Peter wetly coughs again into his elbow, announcing his presence, wincing from the pain it brings his scratchy throat as he makes his way towards the couch.
Tony was already looking at him, brows pulling together in concern. “You okay, Pete?”
Peter miserably shakes his head. “I don’t feel that great.” He hoarsely admits.
Tony holds up his left arm towards him and that’s the only invitation Peter needs before he shuffles over and settles down on the couch against Tony’s side, pulling his legs up underneath himself.
“I’m sorry, bud.” Tony softly says as he wraps his arms around him, pulling Peter impossibly closer. “That cough doesn’t sound too good.”
Peter closes his eyes and breathes out a small sigh through his mouth, since his nose is too stuffed up to breath out of. “I think I’m sick.”
There wasn’t any use in trying to hide how miserable he’s feeling.
“That why you can’t sleep?” Tony asks, voice rumbling in his chest against Peter’s ear .
Peter silently nods into the man’s chest. Tony reaches a hand out and brushes away a loose strand of curls from Peter’s forehead and cards his fingers through his hair.
“Want me to get you anything? Maybe some hot chocolate?”
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth at the promise of the heavenly sugary drink. “Please.”
Peter sat up, allowing Tony to stand up from the couch. Peter turns his attention to the TV show and watches it with half interest as the couple on the screen debate on which property they were going with. Pots and pans clink together in the kitchen cupboard in the background, followed by the sound of the stove clicking on.
Tony walks back over after a couple of minutes, two steaming mugs in hand, along with something sticking out from the pocket of his sweatpants.
“I want you to take some NyQuil before you have any of this.” He says as he takes a seat on the edge of the couch, putting the mugs down on the coffee table.
“But it won’t even affect me. I’ll just burn right through it.” Peter weakly protests as he watches him unscrewing the cap.
“Just humor me, okay?” Tony dryly says as he begins to fill the small plastic measuring cup up with the dark green liquid.
Peter lets out a defeated sigh, not having the energy to fight him on it. Tony hands the cup over to him and Peter holds it in his hand, hesitating for a moment before he throws his head back and drank it down as quickly as he could. His face scrunches together in disgust at the taste, and he tries swallowing a few times to get the horrid taste out of his mouth.
Tony chuckles at him as he leans forward and picks up their mugs, handing one to him. It’s filled over the top of the brim with whipped cream and tiny marshmallows, just how Peter likes it. Peter took a small, hesitant sip, the horribly bitter aftertaste in his mouth washing away, being replaced by the heavenly taste of chocolate and sugar. He lets out a content humm and closes his eyes, feeling his body being warmed up.
“Better?” Tony asks in an amused tone as he settles back against the couch.
“Way better.” Peter nods, leaning back into his side.
Tony wraps his arm back around him and the two of them fall into a peaceful silence, aside from Peter’s occasional coughing, as they two of them sip at their hot chocolates, watching the show for a few more minutes before the end credits flash across the screen.
“What are you feeling up to watching?” Tony asks as he picks up the remote.
“Mmmh, you choose.” Peter mumbles against his side, feeling himself getting sleepy.
He would probably just pass out anyway in the next five minutes when they put something on.
“Alrighty, then. Dora the Explorer it is.”
“Nooo.” Peter croaks out.
Tony chuckles with a soft smile and gently nudges him with his elbow. “I’m just kidding.”
He ends up putting on The Empire Strikes Back instead, because Tony knows Peter so well that it was his favorite go-to movie when he was sick. Peter cuddles closer to Tony’s side and rests his head on his chest once again, content to stay there for as long as he could, safe and sound in his mentor’s arms.
Once the opening credits roll and the movie begins, Peter’s only able to make it to the scene where the Empire attacks the Rebel base, before he feels his eyes growing heavy. The action unfolding on the screen grows blurry as his eyes slip closed, the sounds of action on the TV screen growing more and more distant, before he drifts off, faintly aware of his now empty mug being taken out of his hands.
…….
Peter wakes up slowly, groggy and disoriented as he blinks open his eyes, brows pulling together when he finds that he’s back in his room in bed. He doesn’t recall coming back up after the movie, so Tony must’ve carried him up after he fell asleep.
As he wakes up a little more, he discovers that his throat feels like sandpaper, hurting every time he swallows. His nose is completely blocked, so he’s forced into breathing out of his mouth, which was probably why his mouth and throat were so dry.
To sum it all up, he feels like absolute crap.
Peter pushes himself on his elbows up into a sitting position, and eases himself out of bed, pausing when black dots dance around in his vision. When it clears, he continues his way out of his room and out into the hallway, heading for the bathroom. He slips out of his bathrobe and hangs it on the door’s hook when he’s in the bathroom, flipping the light on as he closes the door.
Once he’s finished, he blows his nose a few times with toilet tissue before washing his hands. His eyes flicker up to his reflection in the mirror, which startles him a bit. He’s terribly pale with dark circles under his eyes, nose and cheeks rosy.
He looks horrible.
Horribly sick.
Peter huffs out a short breath through his lips as he turns away from the mirror and slips his bathrobe back on. He heads out of the bathroom and makes his way down the hallway towards the stairs, hearing the sounds of butter sizzling on a frying pan but can’t smell anything with how congested he is.
He takes it slow going down the stairs, not really trusting his spider reflexes at the moment in case he were to trip, with how crappy he feels. When he arrives at the bottom step, he turns the corner and finds Morgan in the living room watching her Saturday morning cartoons, one that he doesn’t know the name of. Peter shuffles past her on his way over to the kitchen where Pepper has her back to him at the stove, and Tony stands at the center island, popping two pieces of bread in the toaster. He looks up with a smile when Peter takes a seat at one of the barstools.
“Morning, bud. Feeling any better?”
“N-o-t…” Peter tries to say but the words are lost in his throat when his throat painfully protests.
He tries to clear his throat but it sounds like he’s gargling nails.
Tony’s face melts in concern from the sound. “I’ll take that as a no.” He says as he walks around the counter and stops in front of him, placing the back of his hand on Peter’s forehead. “You’re a little warm.” He notes as he glances up to the ceiling. “FRIDAY, what’s his temp?”
“One hundred and two point one, boss. Based off of his symptoms, I believe he has a cold, as well as a case of laryngitis.” She informs. “I recommend plenty of fluids and rest.”
Peter opens his mouth and tries to say something again, only to break out into a harsh coughing fit that has him hunched over, eyes watering. Tony’s hand rubs soothing circles on his back, but it doesn’t ease any of the pain.
“Oh, Peter that doesn’t sound good, honey.” Pepper frowns, turning away from the stove to look at him with concerned eyes. “Do you want me to make you some tea and honey? It might help a bit.”
Peter silently nods with a small, tired smile. May always made him tea when he was sick with a sore throat and it always seemed to take the edge off a bit. Hopefully it would as well this time around.
Tony and Pepper both go back to preparing their breakfast while Peter sat there, resting his arms on the counter, pillowing his head on top of them. Exhaustion pulls heavily at his eyes, threatening to drag him back down into darkness, but before he dozes off, Tony announces that breakfast was ready.
Peter forces himself up from the barstool and shuffles over to the dinner table that was all set up, plates filled with scrambled eggs, toast and bacon. He heavily sits down next to Tony, just as Morgan comes running over, taking a seat across from him next to Pepper.
Morgan brightly smiles over at Peter. “Did Daddy tell you we’re going on the boat today?” She excitedly says, practically bouncing in her seat.
Peter shakes his head.
“Yeah! And he said we’re going fishing too!”
Peter just tiredly smiles at her, not able to do anything else. She seems to pick up on his silence because she frowns at his lack of response. She opens her mouth to say something but Pepper beats her to it.
“Peter doesn’t feel that good today, honey. His throat is bothering him so he can’t really talk.”
Morgan’s eyes widen and she looks back over at Peter. “Do you have a froggy in your throat?”
A smile breaks out on his face at that and he nods.
“Oh,” She says and scrunches up her nose as Tony joins them at the table. “Those stink.”
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to go out on the boat today, sweetie but maybe we can do something else?” Tony tells her.
“Can we watch movies and build a fort?”
“If Peter wants to we can.” Tony says as he glances over at Peter in question.
Peter nods with a smile, earning an excited cheer from Morgan. A comfy pillow-filled fort sounded nice. Maybe they could even have hot chocolate and snacks too.
Peter discovers that eating is quite the challenge with how sore his throat feels. The eggs were fine with how soft they were, but the bacon and toast were the hardest to swallow with how rough and crummy they were going down. It almost feels like little daggers going down his throat whenever he swallows. The tea Pepper made him was helping a little, but not as much as he hoped it would.
He suddenly breaks off into another coughing fit in between bites of toast, covering his mouth as best as he could in his arm.
Tony winces in sympathy and rubs his back soothingly. “I really don’t like the sound of that, Pete.”
“I don’t either.” Pepper says with concern as she stands up and begins to collect their plates.
Peter hasn’t really eaten anything due to his sore throat and his lack of appetite, leaving a good amount of his breakfast untouched. He feels horribly guilty when his plate is taken away, only reminding him of the hard times he and May have had over the years since Ben’s passed away, living paycheck to paycheck.
“I think we should get some more NyQuil in you.” Tony tells him, hand still on the teen’s back. “How about we set you up in the living room so you can get some sleep?”
Sleep. That sounded really nice right about now.
…….
Twenty or so minutes later, Peter’s settled on the chaise of the couch and dosed up with cold medicine, tucked under his comforter with his pillows behind his head. The living room is a mess, the couch’s pillows thrown on the loveseat across the room, along with a bunch of sheets that are rigged up around him, connected from all of the furniture, still allowing a good view of the TV, that’s playing 101 Dalmatians . Tony was definitely a pro fort builder, but he might have cheated and used some kind of tech.
Morgan is settled on her own little makeshift bed on the floor where the coffee table use to be, surrounded by at least fifty stuffed animals but she was snuggled up with her favorite Iron Man teddy bear.
“Permission to enter?” Tony’s voice comes from outside of the fort.
Morgan jumps up with a giggle and crawls over to the entrance. “What’s the password?”
Tony hums in thought. “Password” He guesses.
“No!” Morgan giggles.
“Iron Man?”
“No!”
“Hmm… you’ve got me here. How about a hint?”
Peter softly smiles at the scene. Times like this, he’s really able to see just how good of a dad Tony is.
“Nope!” Morgan grinned, clutching onto her stuffed bear.
Tony gasps on the other side. “You’re just going to leave your dad hanging like this? I’m sure your brother would help me out if he could, right, Pete?”
Morgan turns and looks at him in question but Peter grins and shakes his head. She giggles and turns back to the entrance.
“Well, I’ll just have to eat all of these yummy snacks myself, then,” Tony says with a dramatic, depressed sigh. “And this delicious, hot chocolate that’s topped with marshmallows…”
That definitely peaks Morgan’s interest.
“The jumbo sized ones?” She excitedly asks.
“Mhmm,” Tony answers, “And it’s all mine…” He says as he makes fake slurping sounds.
Morgan jumps up and pushes aside the sheet and grants him entrance. Tony bends down and has to practically crawl inside, a wooden tray in hand that’s filled with what looks to be Cheez its, a couple or Oreos, some popcorn, and three steaming mugs of hot chocolate.
“Thank you, Daddy!” Morgan says as he hands her one, which just so happens to be in her favorite Disney Princess mug.
Peter smiles gratefully as Tony hands him his, which is in his favorite Star Wars mug, filled with whipped cream, marshmallows and topped with chocolate syrup.
“Is Mommy coming?’ Morgan asks with a small glob of whipped cream on her nose.
Tony fondly smiles and wipes it off for her. “She had to take a phone call but she should be back soon.”
He goes over and takes a seat at near Peter and props the teen’s legs on his lap. Peter smiles as he takes a sip of his drink, warmth immediately flowing through him.
Pepper joins them right as the movie comes to an end, so they put on another movie, Lady and the Tramp, per Morgan’s request. She’s been on a kick lately asking for a dog, so Peter thinks this is part of her plan to convince her parents to let her have one. She certainly didn’t need to convince Peter because he’d proably join her if she asked him too. He was such a softie for her big brown eyes.
Peter can feel himself fading as the movie plays, his eyes growing heavy. His hot chocolate was long gone by now, the mugs put away in the dishwasher by Tony sometime ago. Peter shifts under his blankets and lies down on his side, closing his eyes. He can feel Tony’s thumb rubbing small circles on his blanket-covered leg, which relaxes him even further than he already is, lulling him into a light doze.
He falls asleep sometime after that, feeling warm, content, and safe, surrounded by his family. It’s moments like these that he cherishes, sick or not.