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“You know Pete,” Tony starts for the nth time this weekend when they pull back onto the road after a rest stop, “you could still go for MIT. I know the person in charge of the admissions office. And when I say know, I mean”—he glances through the rearview mirror at Morgan, who is contentedly listening to audiobooks through her tablet before lowering his voice—“we had some pretty intense late-night study sessions in the physics lab together back in the day. And by intense, I mean -”
“Stop, please stop,” Peter protests, rapidly shaking his head to get rid of the mental image. “I don’t even wanna think about that. And besides the fact that May would never let this happen, I don’t want to get into MIT just because you know someone there. That would be unfair to everyone else who had to apply. Plus, I really liked Culver.”
“Whatever you say, kiddo…” Tony sighs. “But let me know if you change your mind.”
Peter is sure he won’t. His grades are good, but, due to his nightly superhero activities, not quite outstanding enough for MIT, and he’s actually fine with that. He did like what he saw of Culver University during their open day - it’s not as top ranked as MIT or the Ivy League schools, but the quality of teaching and their hands-on research approach sounded cool. Plus, it’s Bruce Banner’s old university, and he comes there to give guest lectures from time to time, something Peter would be thrilled to witness.
Peter just hopes that Tony isn’t too disappointed in him for not trying out MIT - he’s seemed a bit distant throughout the whole trip.
“Do you want some trail mix?” Peter offers. Food is usually a failsafe way to lift his mentor’s mood.
“Nah, I’m good,” Tony declines.
“I WANT TRAIL MIX!” Morgan shouts from under her headphones, about six times louder than necessary.
“Morguna, keep your voice down,” Tony scolds.
“Sorry,” Morgan stage-whispers. “Can I have some now?”
(Needless to mention, food works wonders on her, too.)
Peter holds out the bag and Morgan reaches into it with both of her hands, grabbing so much at once that half of it spills back into her lap. Grinning, Peter turns back to Tony and offers the bag once more. “You sure? It’s the good stuff - half M&Ms and no raisins.”
Tony seems to pale a little bit. He shakes his head tightly. “Not hungry.”
Peter frowns. There is no way Tony can’t be hungry. He skipped breakfast that morning, claiming that he’d rather have a long and undisturbed shower, but by the time Peter and Morgan came back, stuffed full of hotel food delicacies, he’d still been in bed. And, thinking back to last night, Peter recalls that Tony barely finished the small pizza he’d shared with Morgan.
Now that he’s paying attention, Peter notices the thin film of sweat forming on his mentor’s forehead despite the almost too-cold temperature in the air conditioned car. “Are you alri-”
“What’s that shrieking noise?” Tony interrupts, nodding at the radio playing something from the local station. “Doesn’t even deserve to be called music,” he grumbles, passing Peter his phone. “Here, play something decent.”
Peter connects the device and pulls up one of Tony’s playlists, but the worry in his gut only increases at the man’s not very subtle attempt at changing the topic. At least they’re only three hours out from the lakehouse now; Pepper will be able to figure out whatever it is that’s going on with him. Just a few hours, Peter thinks. They can do that.
Turns out, that was a bit optimistic.
Forty-five minutes later, Peter is idly texting with Ned about their current Lego project when Morgan suddenly takes off her headphones. “Daddy, are we almost there?” she asks, her tone just bordering on a whine.
“It’s at least another two hours,” Tony replies, glancing at her through the mirror with a frown. “What’s bugging you, Morguna?”
“My tummy doesn’t feel good,” Morgan complains, bending forward and wrapping her arms around herself.
“Do you feel carsick?”
Morgan nods, pressing her lips together.
“Okay bud, hold on a second,” Tony reassures calmly, already taking his foot off the gas. “I’ll find us a rest stop and we take a break.”
They reach the rest stop without incident, much to Peter’s relief. He used to get carsick a lot as a kid and remembers just how awful it felt. Tony makes Morgan walk around the car a few rounds to get some fresh air and then coaxes her into drinking half a bottle of Sprite.
Tony is kind and patient as always when he talks to Morgan (something Peter still isn’t used to, despite having had a few months now to get used to Dad Tony™), although Peter can’t help but notice that his mentor seems a little out of it.
After ten minutes, when the colour has returned to Morgan’s cheeks, Tony moves gingerly around the car to put her back into the booster seat, his lips pressed together almost as if he’s in pain. Both his real and prosthetic hands are shaking slightly when he clicks the seatbelt.
“Break’s over, back to the road,” Tony’s voice knocks Peter out of his thoughts. He tosses the car keys to Peter, who catches them in confusion. “Your turn, Underoos. I’ll sit in the back with Morguna until she feels better.”
“What? No!” Peter protests. “I can’t drive!”
“What do you mean, you can’t drive?” Tony rebuts. “Do you have a license or not?”
“Well, yeah, but...” Peter does have a license, and he’s definitely come a long way since the day he nearly wrecked Flash’s car, but that still doesn’t mean he feels comfortable behind the wheel. “This car is crazy expensive! What if I break something?”
“Then I’ll buy a new one,” Tony says simply.
That was definitely not the answer Peter was looking for. He lets out a sigh and Morgan giggles a bit from where she’s pressed against Tony’s arm.
“Come on, kid, please?” The tone is joking, but there’s a hint of desperation under the surface. Something is very, very wrong.
“Okay,” Peter gives in. “But no comments about me driving below the speed limit.”
Tony gives a half-hearted grin. “Deal.”
“Deal!” Morgan echoes, which makes Peter smile a little.
Peter is so nervous as he steers them back onto the highway that he hardly dares to draw a full breath. But after a few minutes, he realises that this car runs much smoother than May’s old Toyota Corolla. It’s almost as intuitive as navigating his Spider-Man suit, and after a while, Peter feels himself relax to the point where he is nearly enjoying it.
Then, he hears a cough from the backseat that quickly turns into a hitching gag. Peter glances in the rearview mirror, fully expecting to see Morgan throwing up. But instead, the girl is staring at her father with a mixture of fear and surprise. It’s Tony who is now white as a ghost and pressing a sleeve-covered hand to his mouth, visibly trying to keep himself from being sick.
“Pull over,” he says through gritted teeth.
Peter is flabbergasted. “I can’t just -”
“Daddy?” Morgan asks, her voice wavering.
“Pete, pull over,” Tony urges, his voice sharp.
“Okay, okay...” Peter mumbles. He forces himself to concentrate on the road. He indicates to the right to change lanes and then pulls off onto the highway shoulder.
The car has barely come to a stop before Tony throws the door open and stumbles out of sight behind the vehicle. Peter hears a painful-sounding retch, then the sound of liquid hitting the asphalt.
“Daddy?” Morgan asks again in a small voice, starting to unbuckle her seatbelt. Figuring the audience of an anxious six-year-old is the last thing Tony wants at the moment, Peter stops her.
“Morgan, wait. Stay here with me,” he says. “Just give your dad a minute, okay?”
She looks at him, her eyes wide. “Is Daddy okay?”
“I- I think he’s a bit sick,” Peter admits. “But he’s gonna be fine,” he adds when he sees Morgan’s eyes fill with tears, irrespective of the worry tightening in his own stomach.
“Can you look for a water bottle and tissues?” he asks, mostly to give her something to do.
Morgan nods earnestly and then starts digging in the back pockets of the seats. She finds a packet of tissues and has just pulled out a water bottle when Tony returns. He climbs back into the car rather unsteadily, and sinks down into the seat with a heavy sigh.
“Sorry for that,” he states, his voice hoarse. He looks pretty bad, his face almost grey now and with a feverish gleam to his eyes that makes them stand out even more.
“Daddy!” Morgan exclaims. “Are you okay?”
Tony puts on a forced smile as he turns to face her. “Yeah, I’m okay, sweetie. Sorry I scared you.”
“Did you get carsick?” Morgan asks, mimicking his adult tone.
“Yeah, um, I was carsick,” Tony replies without looking at either of them.
Peter doesn’t buy it for one second, but he doesn’t want to freak Morgan out. “Morgan, give him the tissues and some water, okay?” he instructs instead.
She holds the items out to Tony.
“Thanks, munchkin,” he says softly, then takes a sip of water to rinse out his mouth. He leans out of the door to spit it out and can’t suppress a pained groan when he comes back up. “Okay, let’s just get home.”
Morgan snuggles against her father for the rest of the ride, her eyes half-closed, but she doesn’t really fall asleep. Tony seems to be barely holding it together. He is breathing shallowly, wincing slightly every now and then. More than once Peter can hear him gulp as if trying not to puke again.
“Tony, seriously, tell me when to stop,” Peter whispers when he hears his mentor draw in a sharp breath after a curve.
“Let’s just get to the house,” Tony mumbles before burping sickly into his sleeve.
Peter has never been happier to turn onto the forest road that leads them off the highway and towards the lake. The moment they stop, Tony is out of the car again, shuffling - almost limping - towards the house as quickly as he can. Peter parks the car and tells Morgan to go find her mom before following Tony to - who would have guessed - the bathroom.
Peter can hear him throwing up from outside the door. He knocks, but the only response is another retch. Worry takes over, his spider-sense humming in his ears, and he opens the door without waiting any longer.
Tony is hunched over the bowl, his left arm braced on the toilet seat and the prosthetic one wrapped tightly around his abdomen. He’s in the middle of heaving up bile, his whole body shaking from the strain of it. Peter waits until the current round is finished before tearing off some toilet paper and handing it over for Tony to wipe his mouth with, which the man does clumsily with his left hand.
“Don’t kill me,” Tony rasps, not looking up at Peter. “I just didn’t wanna freak out Morgan - she’s just always so worried since I lost my arm and all.” He drops the paper into the bowl and reaches up to flush the handle, his face contorting into a painful grimace as he does so.
“And that’s why you didn’t wanna tell her that you got a stomach bug?” Peter asks incredulously.
“Um...actually…” Tony swallows. “I think it might be appendicitis.”
Peter blinks. “What the hell, Tony? You should be in a hospital.”
“Morgan is really scared of hospitals - it would have terrified her if she'd seen me get wheeled off to surgery again. I’m sorry, kid, but what was I supposed to do?” Tony tries to sit back carefully but then just sort of collapses against the wall, his right knee pulled up to his chest.
A hundred possible answers to this question spring to Peter’s mind, all of which include Tony telling him what was going on about three hours ago. But he swallows them down - now is not the time.
“C-Can you get Pepper?” Tony asks in a sort of pitiful voice.
He’s looking a lot worse than he did just ten minutes ago, and despite his anger, Peter feels a pang of sympathy when he realises just how much Tony must have been holding it together in front of Morgan.
“Sure.” Peter nods. “But don’t think we’re done talking about this.”
Despite the misery he’s in, Tony manages a weak grin. “Yes, Dad,” he teases.
Peter just sighs.
He almost bumps into Pepper when he opens the door to the living room where Morgan is watching TV.
Pepper takes in the look on Peter’s face and frowns. “What did he do this time?” she mouths.
“Appendicitis,” Peter whispers back. Pepper’s eyes widen a bit in concern, but otherwise she doesn’t seem nearly as shaken as Peter feels. Two decades of life with Tony Stark seems to have brought her anxiety threshold to an entirely new level. She steps out into the hall and pulls the door shut behind her.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Tony seems sure. And the symptoms match - I think he’s been feeling sick at least since yesterday, and it’s just getting worse.” Peter bites his lip, suddenly overcome by guilt upon thinking about how long it took him to figure out that something was off.
Pepper seems to catch on to this. “Hey, enough of that. It’s not your fault, okay? Tony is a stubborn idiot who’d rather have the whole world believe that he’s a class-A asshole than admit to being sick.”
Peter swallows, thinking back to the little he knows about the palladium poisoning period of Tony’s life. His admiration for Pepper instantly increases tenfold.
“I’m gonna drive him to the hospital,” Pepper continues. “I know we were supposed to drop you back with your aunt later, but do you mind staying with Morgan until Happy can get here?”
“No problem,” Peter reassures. Pepper nods gratefully and then walks briskly past him to the bathroom, where, from the sound of it, Tony is being sick again.
Peter’s enhanced hearing picks up Tony’s croaky, “Hey, Pep,” when she enters.
“Oh, Tony,” Pepper replies. “You’re burning up. You’re a hot mess, you know that?”
Tony chuckles weakly.
“Do you think you can get up?” she goes on. “We need to get you straight to the hospital...”
He’ll be fine, Peter tells himself. He’ll be alright.
He straightens up and opens the door to the living room. “Hey kid, what are you watching?”
*
Several hours later, Peter and Happy are sitting in front of the TV, Peter pretending to study his chemistry notes and Happy pretending to watch Grey’s Anatomy while mostly being caught up in their own thoughts. It took Happy a while to get to the lakehouse, and then Peter decided against driving home. It’s exam season and he can just as well study here. Plus, he wants to be able to visit Tony in the hospital the next day.
Morgan has finally succumbed to sleep after Happy read her four different picture books. She was cranky all evening, first asking for pudding and ice cream for dinner and then demanding extra TV time, but no one had the heart to stop her. Both Happy and Peter realised that that was just her way of dealing with the worry they’re all experiencing.
Happy has almost fallen asleep on the couch when his phone starts to ring. He startles, then reaches out to pick it up. “Pepper,” he informs Peter.
Peter shamelessly eavesdrops when Happy answers the call.
“Hey,” Pepper greets on the other side. “It’s over. He’s awake now.”
Happy lets out a small exhale the same moment Peter feels the tension leave his own body. “Everything went well?” Happy asks.
“Yeah, the operation went as planned. He was kind of out of it when he came around just now, sort of confused and anxious. Seems like Morgan isn’t the only one carrying around bad memories from the snap.”
Yeah, Peter thinks, you don’t say.
“They gave him a light tranquilliser and he’ll probably sleep for the next few hours. I’ll stay here overnight if that’s alright with you, and if everything’s fine, you can bring Morgan here first thing in the morning. Peter too, if he wants to come.”
Happy raises a questioning eyebrow and Peter nods emphatically.
“Yeah, he’ll come with us,” Happy reports.
“Great.” Pepper lets out a sigh. “Tell Peter thanks for getting him home safely. Tony was asking about them - Morgan and Peter.”
“I will,” Happy says. “Try and get some sleep, boss.”
“You too.” Peter practically hears the tired smile in Pepper’s voice. “Good night, Happy.”
“So,” Happy turns to him after setting down the phone. “I suppose after today I should extend an official invitation to the official ‘Stark’s a Stubborn Idiot’ support group. We meet every other Thursday from seven to eight,” he deadpans. “Activities include dragging his ass to the hospital, dragging his ass to bed, dragging his... actually, mostly just a lot of ass-dragging.”
Peter laughs a bit at that. “Do I get a free t-shirt?”
Happy snorts. “I think that could be arranged.”