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The ringing of Peter’s phone cuts through the late afternoon of a lazy Saturday.
Peter’s lying with his head resting in Ned’s lap, half watching him play the newest Star Wars Jedi game and half trying to pay attention to the calculus workbook he has propped up against his chest in an attempt to finish the homework that he’s left to the last minute (it was due yesterday, but in his defence, it’s not like he can pick the schedule that the criminals of New York choose to operate to - sometimes it just doesn't tip in his favour).
Ned throws a sideways glance at him inquisitively as Peter stretches out a hand to grab his phone from where it’s resting on the coffee table. He’s fully intending on shutting the noise off so they can go back to their peace and quiet when his gaze falls on Tony’s name emblazoned across the screen. His brows knit together ever so slightly and he flashes the screen towards Ned. “Do you mind?”
Ned scoffs, but it’s not unkind, more so lined with the sort of affection that Peter still isn’t quite used to bouncing around between the two of them. It’s nice though. He likes it - a lot. “Course I don’t. Not like we’re doing much.”
“I’ll be quick,” Peter promises, before he hits accept and places the phone up by his ear, settling back into his spot. Ned drops a hand down on Peter’s shoulder and rests it there, redirecting his eyes back to the TV.
“Hey, Tony!”
“Kid, god, am I glad you picked up.”
Peter frowns. He sounds kind of flustered. “Is everything okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Aside from the fact that Pep and I kinda have a situation. It’s tiny, really, just a few investors talking smack about the new clean energy initiative, you know the one,” Tony says and Peter nods along - he does know the one, he's spent hours with Tony in his office helping him hash out the specifics and schematics of it - “they’re trying to shut it down and we really need to get into the office and prove that it’ll work before they go rogue or something. I’ve been burned enough times to know when it’s time to step in.”
Peter nods. That makes sense, probably, after Obidiah, and Beck and anyone else who’s ever been involved in Stark Industries and felt threatened by Tony’s genius. It’s a bit rude because surely whoever’s miffed about Tony’s ideas could have at least waited until Monday, but regardless he’s not quite sure why Tony is calling him about it.
“And I come in where, exactly?”
“I’m glad you asked. That’s the fun part, you see. I need to cash in a favour from my favourite spider-kid and we happen to have an extremely flu-ridden Morgan in the backseat with us and who could really use someone to hang out with her for a few hours tonight.”
Aha. There it is.
“Are you asking me to babysit? Because-”
“I know it’s short notice, but Happy’s out of town with your aunt, obviously,” - Peter pulls a face to himself. He’s perfectly happy not thinking or knowing anything about their so-called ‘romantic retreat’ - “and Rhodey’s stationed somewhere in DC for the week. Plus, you’re her favourite anyway so this was an obvious choice-”
“-what I was about to say, is that I'll do it,” Peter cuts back in. “You don’t need to try and like, sell her good points to me or anything. She’s a little monster, I already know that. No disguising the facts.”
“Ah, spoken in true brotherly fashion.”
Peter grins. “We’ll see you soon.”
“We?”
“Oh yeah, Ned’s here, by the way,” Peter says, pulling the phone away from his ear for a second so Ned can say a distracted, “Hey, Mister Stark!” down the phone as he shoots at another bog rat on the screen. He misses and curses slightly under his breath.
Peter chuckles, a fond smile growing underneath where he’s biting down on his bottom lip.
“Date night, huh?” Tony teases and Peter feels his face heat up a little. He chances a glance up at Ned but he hasn’t taken his eyes off the screen. Peter hopes he hasn’t noticed the embarrassing red flush that’s crept up his neck.
“Yeah, something like that. It’s all good.”
“So, we’re not, uh, interrupting anything, right?” Tony asks, voice suddenly an uncomfortable mix of teasing and awkward. Peter’s face scrunches for a second as he frowns and tries to figure out what Tony means, until it hits him and he groans.
“Tony, no, not that… don’t be… no.”
“Okay, thank god, because we’re just getting off the interstate by Jackie Robinson Parkway so we’ll see you in five.”
“You didn’t think to call any more than five minutes in advance?” Peter admonishes, but he’s joking really. With the number of times he’s shown up at the lake house unannounced, he figures he kinda deserves this.
“Look, I was going to call you when we got on the road but then it all got a little chaotic because I was too busy trying to stop a certain someone from puking all over her car seat and we just kinda forgot.”
It’s probably a testament to their relationship that Tony is willing to openly admit all of this and not be scared that Peter will suddenly backtrack and decide that looking after Morgan will be too much. Peter would never.
He’d pull the stars from the sky if that’s what it would take to make Morgan happy.
“I think our time of not doing much is over,” Peter says to Ned once he’s hung up the phone. Ned doesn’t look at all put off by the change of plans and it makes Peter’s stomach twist a little bit with the fluttery feeling he’s sure he was over.
“That’s okay,” Ned shrugs. “I like Morgan better than you anyway. Way cuter.”
“Okay, rude,” Peter says, pulling a face at him.
He has to try and resists the urge to break out into a grin when Ned leans down to steal a kiss on his cheek.
True to their word, there’s a knock at the door only a few minutes later. Peter - fairly reluctantly - gets himself up from his position resting against Ned’s side and pads across the room, socked feet against slightly chilly wooden floors, and pulls open the door to find three Starks’ on the doorstep.
Both Tony and Pepper look worse for wear - which is rare for Pepper - but Morgan looks worse, wrapped in Tony’s arms with her face shoved into his neck and stuffed puppy clutched to her chest.
Peter grimaces at the sight of them in sympathy and steps aside to let them in. “Hey, guys.”
Ned pipes up from where he’s hovering behind him. “Hi, Mister Stark! Mrs Stark!”
“How many times have I told you to call me Pepper, Ned,” Pepper chides gently. She pulls him in for a quick hug that has Ned blushing, before she leans over to press a kiss to the top of Peter’s head. “Good to see you, honey.”
Tony has already made his way into the kitchen, and he has to drop the CVS bag he’s had clutched in one hand onto the dining table before he finally has a free hand to sling around Peter’s shoulders in lieu of a proper greeting.
“Thanks for doing this, Pete.”
Peter shakes his head.
It’s not a problem - of course it isn’t. Morgan could never be a problem to him.
He reaches out to take her from Tony and settles her into his arms easily. For a second she clings to where her hand was fisted in the collar of Tony's blazer, but then she glances up at Peter with huge eyes, glazed over from the fever she’s obviously running judging by the slight warmth she’s radiating against Peter’s exposed skin and lets herself relax against him.
“You come to crash my date night, huh? We’re gonna have the best time I promise.”
“Petey.”
“Yeah, I know, bug. A little birdie told me you’re not feeling very well,” Peter murmurs and she groans.
“‘M tummy feels weird”
“That’s no good. I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t fix with some cuddles and a little medicine.”
Morgan scrunches her nose up and gives a petulant kick of her legs against Peter’s hip. Tony shoots him a wry smile. “Careful. The medicine is kinda a sore topic at the moment,” Tony explains in a low tone. There’s a tiny fond smile on his face. “We ran out of strawberry cough syrup, so she had to take the grape stuff.”
“Yikes. Noted.” Peter knows this is no laughing matter. He's well aware that grape is the inferior flavour in the world of Morgan.
“Pep and I won’t be back late, I promise. Sometime after dinner,” Tony adds, but Peter just shrugs.
“It’s fine, don’t stress about it. I can just put her to sleep in my bed if she gets tired.”
“You are a literal lifesaver, kid.”
“I’ll look after her,” Peter promises but Tony just brushes off the statement with an easy wave of his hand.
“We’re well past that, Pete. I know you will.” Peter warms a little inside. “Oh!” Tony turns back round to gesture at the CVS bag he dumped down a few minutes ago. “We stopped on our way over here, there should be some ibuprofen liquid in there as well as new cough syrup. The strawberry kind, so you shouldn’t have any of the same issues as we did."
Peter nods, taking all the information in. He bounces Morgan up and down ever so slightly in his arms. “There we go, you hear that? Dad got you some more pink medicine! How great is that?”
Morgan doesn’t reply, but Peter thinks that he feels her wipe her snotty nose on his t-shirt sleeve. Awesome.
First step, see if he can dig any tissues out of the hopefully all-curing CVS bag sitting on the dining table.
Peter and Ned finally manage to usher Tony and Pepper out of the apartment five minutes later, once Pepper has reminded both of them about ten times each to call if they’re needed.
By the time Peter has closed the door behind them, Morgan is already making herself at home, curled herself up on the sofa next to Ned. He watches Ned give her a wave.
“Hey Morgan,” he says tentatively, and she gives him a tiny wave in return from underneath the blanket she’s pulled down from the back of the couch. It’s her favourite of Mays. “Peter told me that you’re not feeling very well.”
Morgan gives a little shake of her head, but shifts closer when Ned offers to show her the game he’s playing, and so far, so good, Peter thinks.
Sometimes Morgan can be a little wary of people she doesn’t know, especially when she’s sick, but she looks calm enough now, wide eyes watching Ned intently - even if Peter’s not entirely sure he should be letting his boyfriend tell his little sister that the best way to defeat Darth Vader is to block and then aim straight for the head. She looks enthralled, so he figures maybe he can let it slide as long as Pepper doesn’t find out.
This won’t be so bad. Peter took down an entire gang of six bank robbers last night and barely made a dent in his web fluid. He can do this.
In the end, in an entirely predictable turn of events, it only takes about an hour for everything to descend into chaos.
Peter does manage to convince Morgan to take her medicine with little fuss (god bless whoever invented strawberry flavouring). That was fine, and he gives himself a few big brother points for that.
It’s not until they’re sprawled on the rug in the living room, halfway through a very half-hearted game of Go Fish because Morgan declared that all the “fighting and shooty noises,” were giving her a headache, that Peter notices her starting to heat up a little more.
She’s sat pressed in between his legs, head tucked under his chin as he shows her his cards - or more technically accurate, or their cards. Morgan insisted she got to be on his team instead of playing on her own, but so far she’s offered exactly zero input apart from booing Peter when Ned manages to put down a set of four cards.
From their position, Peter can feel the warmth radiating off her, and it's warmer than she has been all evening - unsettlingly so. He reaches around with the free hand that isn’t clutching a deck of cards to press the back of his hand to her forehead.
It’s hot, definitely too hot - and out comes the dusty digital thermometer that Ned managed to dig out of one of the junk drawers in the kitchen to confirm what Peter already knows.
Morgan's fever is rising.
And thus begins Operation Cool Down, in which they have three options: a cold cloth, liquid ibuprofen and their last resort, a cool bath.
Their first option turns out to be completely useless.
Peter spends half an hour with Morgan on his lap, holding a washcloth that Ned keeps darting back and forth from the sink to run under cold water up to her forehead. She squirms and whines and despite everything, her temperature isn’t budging. The only thing it accomplishes is covering his sweatpants in droplets of cold water that drip from the cloth.
Their second option is the liquid ibuprofen. Ned retrieves it from the kitchen, only for Peter to end up perching on the edge of the couch, pleading desperately with Morgan, the tiny plastic medicine cup containing a carefully measured out dose of kids ibuprofen in it clutched in his hand.
“It’s either this or we have a cool bath, bug,” Peter tries, but no matter how much he begs, Morgan makes no move to take the medicine from him and absolutely will not let him get anywhere near her lips with it.
She’s currently got her lips pressed together so tightly they’re almost going white, arms crossed across her chest. She’s glaring at Peter but as she shivers and sniffles from her spot on the couch, hair messy from where Peter’s been carding through it to try and calm her down, May's throw blanket wrapped around her.
The tears welling up in her eyes and red flush of her face from the fever that it might just be the saddest thing he’s ever seen, and it makes him want to relent and scoop her up close to him but he knows that’s not going to help anything.
The thermometer is reporting Morgan’s temperature as steadily climbing up towards 102 degrees, and Peter would really, really, like to stop it from reaching there.
“It hurts, Petey. It hurts.”
“What’s sore? You think you could tell me?”
“Everything!”
Peter winces.
So does Ned, who’s hovering in the doorway to the kitchen, CVS bag in hand. He’d been rummaging through it only a minute ago, to see if there was anything in there at all that could maybe help them out, give them a third option, but aside from a nasal spray and a pack of cough drops, they’re completely out of luck.
“C’mon, Mo. I just need you to work with me. How about you drink this and I’ll get you a square of chocolate afterwards, does that sound good?”
Another shake of the head.
“It’s berry flavoured! It’ll be just like the raspberry Jell-O Mom makes. You love that!”
“Nuh-uh. It’s different.”
It’s that exact moment that Peter lets a quiet sigh rush out between his gritted teeth and considers - only very briefly, but still - picking up his phone and calling Pepper or Tony.
He scrubs one hand down the side of his face, trying his best, trying to mask his frustration the best he can. None of this is Morgan’s fault, logically he knows that. She’s achy, sick and tired - she isn’t avoiding the medicine just to make Peter’s life harder, but it sure feels like it and a little part of him wishes she would just drink it.
He gives a little shake of his head to try and clear his head before he pushes up from the couch and lets himself step over towards Ned, leaning his weight against him for a second. The comforting smile he receives in return makes everything seem just the tiniest bit easier.
They still only have their third and final option, though, and that’s the dreaded cold bath. He can only imagine how well this is going to go down…
(Not.)
“Ned, I - I think I gotta get her in the bath. Her fever isn’t going down and I - uh,” he exhales a shaky breath, “I don’t know what to do.”
Ned nods quickly. “What can I do?”
Honestly, Peter just feels bad. Ned’s been nothing but helpful all night and this is not what he signed up for. He signed up for a night of takeaways and not moving from the couch and playing through the latest Star Wars game. He didn’t sign up for having to hover over Peter while he tends to a sick Morgan, but Peter knows this is his most important priority at the moment.
Morgan comes before everything.
“You’re okay, you’ve done so much, trust me. Thank you. We won’t be long.”
Ned gives him a little frown as if he’s thinking about rebutting what Peter’s just said.
“If I can do anything, will you let me know?”
“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Peter assures him, unsure of whether or not he’s actually telling him the truth or not, before fixing Ned with a look that he hopes can convey exactly how grateful and relieved that Ned’s bothered to stick around, that he still wants to be here. “Thank you. You are literally the best.”
“I dunno if I’d go that far…”
“The. Best.”
If you asked Peter three hours ago how he thought his date night was going to go, he would never have told you that he’d end up sitting in the bathtub trying to comfort a crying and feverish six-year-old but she’d refused to get in without him so here he is - submerged in tepid water, with Morgan pressed up against his chest again.
It’s cold enough in the apartment tonight without voluntarily dunking himself in a tub full of water, but Morgan wanted him here and if he's the one making her take the bath then he didn’t want her to suffer alone.
Getting a taste of his own medicine and all that, he supposes.
Water laps at the side of the tub with each of their movements and the sound of Ned’s video game filters in through the closed door.
Morgan’s finally started to calm down, after all the kicking and splashing, screaming, crying and carrying on it took to get her settled in the water.
Peter sort of hoped that she might just go to sleep but she’s still fully awake, tracing patterns in the bubbles on top of the water, courtesy of May’s bubble bath that Peter added to try and make the whole thing a little more bearable for her.
“How’re you feeling now?” Peter asks tentatively, and he sees Morgan’s shoulders rise in a shrug against his chest.
“A little, tiny, bit better,” Morgan says. Peter breathes out a quiet sigh of relief and lets some of the remaining tension leak out of his posture. He leans back further against the side of the tub, and Morgan follows him, readjusting so that her head is resting on his collarbone. He reaches up to untangle a few strands of her soaking wet hair.
“You think when we’re out of the bath, you’ll feel up to watching a movie?”
“Can we watch R2D2?”
Peter grins. He introduced her to The Clone Wars a few weeks ago, and he’s pretty sure the only reason she watches it with him is because she likes to watch R2D2 roll around the screen.
He reminds her of DUM-E, who she’s occasionally allowed into the garage to play with if Tony and Peter aren’t working with anything explosive or just generally considered harmful to six-year-olds - which is a lot of the things they tinker with, they've come to realise. He trusts DUM-E around her though, a sight that always softens Peter to see.
“Of course we can. Ned’ll like that too.”
“Okay,” Morgan nods, matter-of-factly, “good. I like Ned.”
“I do too,” Peter murmurs, more to himself than anything.
They talk about nothing for a while, after that.
Peter’s mainly the one filling the silences, which is a first in the history of his conversations with Morgan, both of them watching the sun dip lower and lower in the sky through the tiny bathroom window.
Just as it’s about to disappear below the horizon, Peter gets up to drain the water from the bath, both him and Morgan shivering slightly as the evening air hits them. He lifts her out of the bath, paranoid of her slipping or falling on the slippery ceramic and cracking her head or something equally as awful and grabs towels for the both of them, making sure Morgan is wrapped up and towelling herself off before he deals with himself.
It really was probably only a matter of time before Morgan used her many current ailments as a way to wheedle something out of Peter, and she takes the opportunity once he’s led her into his room to try and find one of his old t-shirts that he outgrew after the spider-bite for her to put on.
Her clothes got soaked well and truly soaked in the splash-zone that was the entire bathroom while he was trying to get Morgan in the bath in the first place.
“Peter?”
“Yeah, Mo?” Peter shoots back distractedly as he tugs an old Transformers t-shirt out of his drawer and turns to help her pull it over her head.
“My throat’s sore…”
Peter stifles a grin. He knows exactly where this is going.
“That’s no good. I have just the thing, the ibuprofen Dad left us will be great for that.”
“Noooo, Petey," she says like he's got the thickest skull in the world. "Ice cream!”
Peter cocks his head to the side and pretends to consider... and then gives in within two seconds. He’s never been a match for those huge brown eyes, plus c’mon, she just sat in a cold bath for half an hour, surely she’s earned her sugary treat for the day.
Peter deposits Morgan in the living room next to Ned, who promises to queue up a few episodes of The Clone Wars, with special help from Morgan to choose which ones to watch, and makes his way to the kitchen.
He has to literally dig his way through the freezer, most of the available space taken up by May’s leftover cooking. Neither of them can bear to throw it all away, but also neither of them can really bring themselves to go back and eat it either, now that Happy - an absolutely superb chef - is around more often than not.
He’s not sure whether they have ice-cream, but he knows for a fact that there will be a box of juice-pops in here somewhere.
May loves to spoil Morgan, so she always keeps them around - along with the exact brand of boxed macaroni cheese Morgan loves and a box of Lucky Charms for whenever she comes to visit.
“A-ha,” Peter mutters to himself under his breath as he pulls the box out from where it was sitting behind a frozen tuna casserole that no one will probably ever dare to touch. There’s only the cherry flavour left, but it’s decidedly not grape, so he takes it for a win and tugs three of them out of the box.
He unwraps them and tosses the wrappers into the bin, fully determined to return to his spot and deliver the requested juice-pops in as timely of a manner as possible, but he’s unable to stop himself from lingering in the doorway for a few long seconds. He wants to commit the way that Morgan’s let herself curl up against Ned’s side, her cheek squishing slightly against his arm as they both focus on the episode on the TV, to memory.
Before he can get any more sappy, Ned catches sight of him watching, and nudges Morgan in the side gently. “Hey, look, Peter’s brought us back our juice pops.”
Morgan’s face lights up with the biggest smile Peter’s seen out of her all day and it relaxes something inside of him as he settles himself back down on the couch. Morgan clambers over Ned to position herself in his lap again.
Peter hands the cherry-red juice pop into her outstretched hand.
“You better not spill any of that anywhere, little bug,” Peter warns without any real heat behind his words, but Morgan just shakes her head solemnly. Her movements are getting slow and lethargic again, and Peter lets her recline fully against him.
“I won’t,” she promises.
(Which is a lie, because no more than ten minutes later, when Peter is fast asleep, the corners of his lips stained cherry red, the remnants of Morgan’s juice pop slip from the wooden stick and onto the couch. Ned presses a single finger to his lips when she glances at him nervously - a promise not to tell. Morgan giggles.)
Peter’s not sure what time it is when he wakes next, but the last sliver of daylight has disappeared and now only the glittering lights of Manhattan in the distance twinkle through the half-drawn curtains of the apartment. The TV is still droning on softly and he takes a second to let the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi wash over him before he takes in his surroundings.
There’s a weight on his lap - Morgan, he remembers- and he fumbles a hand around to try and press a palm to her forehead to make sure her temperature is still under control but Ned wraps a hand around his wrist and pulls it back down towards the sofa. “She’s okay, I’m keeping an eye on her.”
“You sure?” Peter mumbles sleepily against where his head is pressed against Ned’s shoulder. He’s warm and it’s nice, being able to curl up against Ned.
“You can go back to sleep,” Ned tells him quietly, nudging his side slightly.
“Mhmm, but Mo-”
“I’m here, I can keep an eye on her. You were out way too late last night, anyway”
Ned's not wrong. With May and Happy being out of town, Peter’s been taking advantage of all the extra hours he can log in the suit.
“Gotta help people.”
Ned isn’t like May or Tony. He doesn’t try to talk Peter out of his ridiculous guilt complex, tell him that looking out for everyone else isn’t his job. It isn’t, but Ned knows that his boyfriend holds the weight of the world on his shoulders - that’s not changing anytime soon. The least he can do is try and ease it a little bit.
“You do. You’re Spider-Man, and you’ve spent all night helping Morgan. You have to do a little bit for yourself too, y’know.”
Peter just murmurs something incoherent against his neck in a response that really isn’t a response because Ned doesn’t understand a single word.
“Sleep, you idiot. If anything’s wrong with Morgan, I’ll wake you okay?”
“M’kay. Love you guys.”
In all of his drowsiness, Peter freezes for a second at his own words before he relaxes again, too tired to care. He hasn’t actually outright told Ned that he’s in love with him yet, but he squeezes his hand weakly and hopes he gets the message enough for now. He can worry about that all later.
This, with Morgan in his lap and Ned next to him, are some of the best kinds of love, he’s decided.
Ned thinks Peter must drift off after this because his bordering on incoherent mumblings cease and he goes quiet. The only sound in the room is Morgan’s sleepy snuffling and the soft noise of Clone Wars playing in the background.
Ned’s always known that true peace can be hard to come by in the middle of New York, but this… this is the closest he’s come in a while.
Tony and Pepper stop in their tracks at the sight of the three kids curled up on the couch when they let themselves in later that night. Peter is curled up in the middle, Morgan tucked into his arms. Ned’s head lolls back against the couch and Peter’s head resting in the crook of his shoulder. It's cute, the two of them.
It makes Tony happy to see Peter finally learning how to be comfortable with himself - letting himself be truly happy.
He's less happy to turn away to survey the rest of the room, finding video game controllers strewn on the armchair in a tangled mess of wires, playing cards discarded on the floor with no particular pattern.
“Is that-” Tony cuts himself off, stepping closer to the arm of the couch. “That’s not - fuck, Pep, that’s not blood is it?” he asks, suddenly slightly shaky hand pointing towards a vividly crimson stain on the arm of the sofa. There’s another on the carpet beneath their feet.
“I’ve got a better guess,” Pepper says, and when he turns around, she’s brandishing an assortment of plastic juice-pop wrappers that she’s clearly just plucked from the floor. “It looks like the culprit is our responsibility as well,” she adds through a quiet laugh and Tony follows her gaze to land on Morgan. Her hands are covered in the telling bright red sticky residue of a juice pop.
Tony winces. Oops.
“We can have a new sofa in here by the time May and Happy get back, right? That’s something we can do?”