Archive of Our Own

“This is a house of plague,” Tony told Rhodey when he arrived on the porch in the War Machine armor, an insulated grocery bag strapped to his back. “Don’t come in.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not,” Rhodey said, slinging the bag off his back. He put his face-plate up. “I got a couple gallons of chicken soup for you here, ibuprofen––adult and child––orange juice, ginger ale––”

“Do you have Peter’s super pain pills?” Tony asked, peering into the bag.

“Yep, they’re in there. You guys need anything else?”

“No,” Tony said with an exhausted sigh. “Thanks, platypus.”

“Okay.” Rhodey hesitated. “Tony, you sure you don't want me to stay?”

Tony shook his head. “Seriously, it’s a––”

“––house of plague, I know, Tones, but you look like crap, and I feel bad leaving you here. My immune system can take it.”

Tony actually gave it a few seconds’ thought. He was barely on his feet, and the idea of letting someone else take the reins for a while was tempting. Especially Rhodey, who had taken care of him his first semester in college, when he’d gotten walking pneumonia. On the other hand... “This bug blasted through Spiderman’s immune system,” Tony replied. “And the world needs its A-team in tact.”

“Okay,” Rhodey said, “but if you need anything––”

“We’ll call, I promise. Now let me go back inside before I fall over.”

Rhodey frowned. “Tony...”

“Go, Rhodey. I’ll call you later.”

Rhodey looked reluctant, but he nodded. He put his faceplate down. “Feel better, Tony.” With that, he took off. Tony watched him a little regretfully, part of him wishing that he’d taken Rhodey up on his offer.

He went back inside, bag full of supplies hanging from his left arm. The prosthesis was abandoned upstairs; wearing it had been too much when he was aching all over from the flu. He set the bag on the dining room table, and then he had to rest for a second, leaning his head in his hand. Jesus. Maybe he really should have asked Rhodey to stay.

“Tony?”

Tony looked up and saw Peter shuffling down the hallway, a blanket off his bed wrapped around him like a cloak. “Hey kid, what are you doing up?”

“I heard Rhodey,” Peter mumbled, voice scratchy and lower than usual. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything's okay,” Tony assured him. “He brought us some supplies, including your pills. Let’s get you some water so you can take them.”

“I got it,” Peter said, before Tony could get up, and went to get a glass. Tony decided not to argue. Peter came back to sit down at the table, and Tony doled him out two painkillers. “How’re Pepper and Morgan?”

Tony winced. “Morgan’s puking, but I think she’s actually more upset that Pepper’s sick than she is about anything else. She’s been super clingy.” Tony frowned at Peter, who was holding his glass of water silently against his chest. “How about you, kid? You talk to May at all?”

Peter nodded. “She and Happy are having fun in Mexico. She says we should all stay hydrated.”

“Spoken like a true nurse. Are you sure you’re okay down here? I think I’d feel better if you were upstairs with us.”

Peter smiled weakly. “I’m okay down here. I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You’re not in the way, Pete,” Tony said firmly. “There’s the sofa in our room, or you could stay in Morgan’s room if you’d rather have some space, since she’s in with us.”

Peter shook his head. “I’m okay down here. Give me till tomorrow, and I’ll probably be the one taking care of you all.”

“I hope so,” Tony said, though looking at Peter, he really wasn’t sure. The kid had been visibly exhausted when he’d arrived at the lake house for spring break, and Tony suspected he hadn’t been eating very well away at school, either. He’d had to have been seriously run down for his immune system to buckle, even if the germs Morgan had brought home from preschool were vicious little devils. “Okay. If you’re sure. You got everything you need?”

Peter hesitated. Not for very long, but long enough for Tony to see it. But then he said, “Yeah. I’ll grab another bottle of Gatorade while I’m out here. I’m just watching movies.”

Tony still didn’t feel right about it. He didn’t like Peter being so far away from them, but Peter was also in college now, and Tony was trying like hell to respect his space and his need for privacy. He wasn’t always sure where the line between “supportive” and “hovering” was anymore. It’d been easier when Peter was in high school, even if it had threatened to turn Tony not-so-prematurely gray. Invading the kid’s privacy in the name of keeping him safe had seemed like the obvious choice then.

Tony really missed those days.

“Are you really sure, kiddo?” Tony asked. “Pep and Morgan are all right on their own, I could sit with you for a bit––”

“No, no,” Peter said quickly, waving his hands, “no, you should be with them.”

Tony decided he was too tired to argue anymore. “All right. But if you need anything, just let FRIDAY know. Promise?”

“Promise,” Peter said, smiling faintly. He fetched a Gatorade out of the fridge and shuffled down the hallway toward his room.

Tony shoved himself to his feet with a sigh and put away the soup and other refrigerated stuff Rhodey had brought. Then he gathered up Pedialyte and Gatorade for himself, Pepper, and Morgan, and put it in the insulated grocery bag to take upstairs.

The stairs almost did him in. He had to sit down halfway up and take a breather. So far he’d been spared Morgan’s puking, but the flu that had taken all of them out at once had left him utterly exhausted. Finally, he dragged himself to his feet and made it the rest of the way up.

In the master bedroom, Morgan was lying curled up against Pepper, dozing. Pepper was awake, watching some sort of home renovation show on the TV across from the bed.

“I come bearing painkillers and fluids,” Tony announced, sinking down heavily on the bed. “Thank God for Rhodey.”

“No kidding,” Pepper said, holding her hand out for ibuprofen. Tony handed her a ginger ale to wash them down. “Thanks, hon.”

Tony swallowed his own pills, then looked at Morgan. “Do you think we should wake her up?”

Pepper shook her head. “She’s finally resting. We can give her something when she wakes up.”

Tony crawled into bed so that Morgan was bracketed between them. “I thought I was gonna die getting up the stairs.”

“Well, you made it,” Pepper said, smiling at him––beautiful despite being sweaty and pale, with unwashed hair. “My hero. Any luck with Peter?”

Tony shook his head. “I couldn’t get him to come upstairs. He insisted he was all right. Said he’d probably be taking care of us by tomorrow.”

“He might not be wrong.”

“I know, I just...” Tony hesitated. “I don’t like it.”

“I know, but if he were sick and away at school, you’d have to trust him to take care of himself.”

She was right, and Tony knew it. But Peter wasn’t sick and away at school; he was here, at the lake house, and Tony really wished he’d been able to convince him to take advantage of the sofa in their room or the bed in Morgan’s. He didn’t feel right about this at all.

But it was Peter’s choice, and Tony had to respect it. Besides, the kid’s super immune system would probably make short work of this virus.

“You okay with this or should we put on something else?”

“It’s fine,” Tony said, shifting carefully down under the covers to avoid disturbing Morgan. “I’m gonna pass out for a bit. Wake me up if you need anything.”

“I will.” Tony felt Pepper brush the hair out of his eyes, her touch lingering on his forehead, undoubtedly checking his fever. He smiled, letting go for the moment of his worry about Peter. His family was all under one roof. That was what mattered.

***

The bathroom floor was never a good place to be.

Peter stared up at the ceiling and tried not to cry. He didn’t think he’d felt this bad since he’d been bitten. He didn’t usually get sick, but he’d let himself get run down and tired at school. He’d been looking forward to coming to the lake house for weeks, and now it was ruined.

Maybe he should have listened when Tony had tried to get him to stay upstairs. He’d wanted to, but it was better for Tony and Pepper to only have to worry about one kid while they were both sick. Morgan was a handful, and Tony had looked so terrible earlier, exhausted and pale and feverish. He didn’t need to be worrying about Peter, too. Not when Peter had a super immune system and wasn’t even Tony’s real kid.

Peter rolled onto his side, wincing. He wished he’d grabbed a blanket and a pillow off his bed. Ben had always remembered to bring a blanket and a pillow into the bathroom when Peter had been sick as a kid. Peter had laid down with his head on the pillow in his uncle’s lap, and his uncle had tucked the blanket over him. Ben had read him book after book to make time go faster, and he’d never complained, not even when he’d had to get up for work the next morning.

Peter’s eyes burned hot. His grief for Ben had become kind of worn around the edges after so many years. He didn’t think about him quite as often anymore, or feel it as deeply as he had at the beginning. But at that moment, he missed him with bone-deep ache.

Upstairs, Tony was singing an Italian lullaby to Morgan in a low voice. Peter curled up tight and tried to convince himself that this was better. It was lonely, but it was better. Morgan deserved to have all of Tony’s attention. Peter could take care of himself.

Four hours later, Peter had it admit––if only to himself––that he’d made a mistake.

The bathroom floor was cold and hard, and Peter couldn’t move. He’d puked until he thought he’d turn inside out, and then he’d dry-heaved until every muscle in his diaphragm hurt. His fever had crept up steadily, surpassing first 102 and then 102.5, according to his StarkWatch, and his blood pressure had cratered.

FRIDAY had asked Peter several times if he wanted her to alert Tony about how sick he was. Peter had refused everytime, even as it got harder and harder. He hadn’t wanted to drag Tony back downstairs, but now... Peter had to admit that he really wanted his bed. His nice, soft, warm bed, and maybe some ginger ale. He’d puked up the Gatorade he’d tried to drink hours ago, and he couldn’t even keep water in his stomach.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbled. “Wha’ time issit?”

“It’s 12:46, Peter.”

“Is... is Tony awake?” He doubted it. They had been up and moving around for a while––he’d heard Pepper giving Morgan a bath, and then all three of them had read books together––but they’d had quieted down by ten o’clock.

“Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts are both asleep,” FRIDAY said, sounding almost apologetic. “Your vital signs are worrisome, Peter, but you haven’t yet crossed the emergency response threshold. Would you like me to wake Mr. Stark?”

Peter was that no one else was there to see his face crumple, even as FRIDAY only confirmed what Peter had already known. Tony probably had meant to check on him before he’d gone to sleep, but they were all sick. It wasn’t really that he’d forgotten about him. And even if he had, Peter reminded himself, it was his own damn fault. Tony had practically begged him to come upstairs, where it’d be easier for them to look after him, and Peter had refused. It wasn’t fair of him to feel resentful now.

Peter sniffled. “No.”

“Are you quite certain, Peter? I think Mr. Stark would want to know.”

Peter sniffled again. He’d been crying off and on for hours now and his eyes ached from it. Logically, he knew FRIDAY was right. Tony would want to know. But knowing that and being able to bring himself to ask FRIDAY to wake him out of a dead sleep when he was already right where he should be with Pepper and Morgan... those were two very different things.

“I’m okay,” he managed. “Don’t wake him, FRIDAY. Please.”

“If your fever rises much higher, I will have to.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, pressing his face into the tile. He couldn’t even bring himself to care that much. If FRIDAY called Tony, then at least it wasn’t his fault.

He couldn’t stop shivering. He wanted his bed so badly. He pushed himself up, arms shaking, and leaned against the wall. He’d forgotten this part, somehow, he thought. He’d forgotten how much worse things were in the middle of the night. Ben had never let him do this part on his own, anyway. Even after Peter got older and stopped waking his uncle up when he was sick, Ben had always known.

Peter turned his head, still resting it against the wall. He could see his bed. It wasn’t that far, but it might as well have been in Manhattan. He was never going to make it. He was Spiderman, and he couldn’t even crawl the twenty feet to his bed.

He wanted Tony. He wanted Tony to help him to bed and bring him a ginger ale and tell him everything was going to be okay. He didn’t care that he was technically an adult, at that moment he felt like a sick little kid.

“FRIDAY?” he whispered.

“Yes, Peter?”

Peter bit his lip. The words wouldn’t come. No matter how much he wanted them to. It was like they stuck in his throat. “Nothing.”

He lay down on the floor, head pillowed on the bathmat, and stared up at the ceiling. There was a towel hanging overhead. He pulled it down and tried to wrap it around himself. It wasn’t warm enough, but it helped a little.

He just had to get through the night, he thought. Just a few more hours.

***

Tony woke to a light buzzing against his skin. He slapped at his wrist groggily, trying to get it to stop. It did, only to start again five seconds later.

It took him way too long to realize that the buzzing was FRIDAY trying to get his attention without waking up Pepper or Morgan. He blinked wearily at the ceiling, then shoved the covers back. He had to pee, and he might as well multitask.

He staggered to his feet, reaching out to grasp onto the headboard when his legs threatened to give out, and then shuffled into the bathroom. With the door firmly shut, he asked, “What’s going on, FRIDAY?” Speaking irritated his already sore throat, and he cleared it, to no avail.

“Boss, Peter’s fever has crossed the 103 degree threshold, and I’ve been unable to get a response from him for the last several minutes.”

“Shit.” He’d fallen asleep without checking on Peter. Morgan had been so out of sorts that it’d taken both him and Pepper to get her to sleep, and then he’d passed out without even talking to him. “Okay. I’m on my way.” He washed his hands and then splashed some water on his face. It didn’t have the energizing effect he’d hoped it would.

Tony did his best not to wake Pepper and Morgan as he left the bedroom, waiting to speak again until he was in the hallway. “When was the last time you talked to Peter, FRIDAY?”

“Over three hours ago. He asked if you were awake, but when I said you weren’t, he wouldn’t let me wake you.”

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Tony sighed, holding on hard to the railing as he navigated the stairs. His head was pounding and his legs felt like Jell-O. He should have insisted that Peter stay upstairs. What in God’s name had he been thinking?

He had to stop at the bottom of the stairs and sit. “FRIDAY.”

“Yes, boss?”

“I need you to call Rhodey. Tell him I was wrong, and we could really use a hand.”

“You got it, boss.”

He managed to get up and moving again after a minute or two. On his way through the kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of ginger ale out of the fridge. Then he headed down the hall, one hand on the wall for balance.

Peter’s bed was empty and disheveled, but the light in the bathroom was on. Tony stopped in the doorway and took in the sight of Peter, curled on the floor, with his head pillowed on the bathmat and a towel wrapped around him.

“Oh kid,” he muttered sympathetically. He got down on his knees and shook Peter’s shoulders. “Pete. C’mon, kiddo, you need to wake up.” Peter moaned. “Yeah, I know, this blows. But I need you to wake up.” He shook Peter a little harder.

“Hurts,” Peter muttered.

“I know, buddy. C’mon, open your eyes.”

“No, the lights. Hurt.”

Tony reached up and turned the overhead lights off. It was still pitch dark out, with no light coming in through the window, but there was a night light plugged in by the sink. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Peter opened his eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself,” Tony said. His knees started to protest the hard floor. He sat down gracelessly. “You look like crap.”

“You, too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. “FRI, how far out is Rhodey?”

“Twenty minutes, boss.”

“Okay.” Tony looked at Peter’s bed, then down at him. He was shivering, and Tony knew the best thing for him would be to get him into bed. But there was no way that he was going to get Peter off the floor. “Right,” he muttered to himself, and managed to struggle to his feet, leveraging himself off the floor with his arm.

He grabbed a blanket and two pillows off the bed. He dropped them onto the bathroom floor by Peter, before wetting a damp washcloth. He slid down to the floor again, shoving one pillow behind him and placing the other on his legs, and draped the blanket over Peter. He prodded him into shifting so his head was on the second pillow, cradled in Tony’s lap.

“Better?” Tony asked.

To his surprise, Peter’s eyes filled with tears. He turned his face away, as though that would hide it from Tony. “Yeah.”

“Hey, what’s the matter, Pete?” Tony asked.

“Nothing. Just... feel really sick.”

Tony smoothed Peter’s hair back from his face. “I know. We just gotta hold out for twenty minutes, then Rhodey will be here to save our asses.”

Peter nodded, lips pressed together. He rolled over and buried his face in Tony’s stomach. Tony rested his hand on Peter’s back, feeling the muscles trembling. He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

He was dozing when the sound of repulsors woke him. He heard Rhodey come in, drop something on the kitchen table, and then come down the hall. “Tones?” he said quietly, entering Peter’s bedroom.

“In here,” Tony said, not bothering to lift his head.

“Well, this is a sorry sight,” Rhodey said, taking them in.

Peter’s eyes slitted open. “Hi Colonel Rhodes,” he murmured, polite as ever.

“Hey, Peter. Mind if I help you up?”

“Okay.”

Peter was mostly limp and unhelpful as Rhodey manhandled him into an upright position. He pulled Peter’s arm across his shoulders and then staggered to his feet. “Pete, you gotta help me out,” Rhodey grunted.

“Sorry, sorry.” Peter obviously tried to get his feet under him, but he mostly failed, knees buckling. Rhodey caught him and swore.

“Stay where you are, Tony, I’ll come back and help you,” Rhodey said, more or less carrying Peter back into the bedroom.

Tony decided not to argue. He listened to Rhodey tucking Peter into bed, asking him if he was still nauseous, if he was warm enough. Peter’s replies were mostly unintelligible.

Rhodey came back a minute or two later to help Tony to his feet. Tony staggered a little, dizzy and off kilter, forcing Rhodey to hold him up. “You should be in bed,” Rhodey said worriedly.

“Wanna make sure Pete is all right first,” Tony muttered.

“I’ve got him, Tones.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony insisted stubbornly. “He’s my kid.”

Rhodey’s face softened. “I know. Come on, then.”

Rhodey dumped him somewhat unceremoniously on the unoccupied half of Peter’s bed. Tony rolled onto his side and slid his arm around Peter’s shoulders. Peter curled into him, nuzzling closer despite seeming half-conscious at best.

“Hey, kiddo, you need to drink something or Rhodey’s gonna have to put an IV in your arm,” Tony said, stroking a hand up and down Peter’s back.

Peter grumbled, but Rhodey managed to get him half sitting up against Tony. He nearly dropped the bottle of ginger ale twice, but the third time he managed to get it to his mouth without spilling.

“Good,” Tony said. “Think you can take your painkillers?”

“Dunno,” Peter mumbled. “Still feel sick.”

“Let’s give it a little bit then,” Rhodey said, and steadied the bottom of the bottle so it didn’t spill.

Peter had managed to drink most of his ginger ale when Tony’s watch buzzed against his arm, drawing his attention. “What’s going on, FRIDAY?” Tony asked, watching as Peter swallowed his painkillers dutifully.

“Morgan is awake and asking for you, boss.”

It was only because Tony was holding Peter so close that he felt him stiffen. “Is Pepper awake?” Tony asked. He didn’t especially want to leave Peter just then, even if he was in good hands with Rhodey.

“No, boss.”

“Does she need something or is she just bored?”

“She says she’d like some juice, and she reports that her head hurts. She appears to be bordering on emotional distress.”

“Hey, Tones, you can go,” Rhodey said. “We’re okay here.”

Tony wasn’t so sure about that. “Peter?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, of course,” Peter said. He sounded dull and distant, and he was already pulling away from Tony. “You should take care of Morgan.”

Tony didn’t really have any choice. He pressed a kiss to the top of Peter’s head and exchanged a meaningful glance with Rhodey. Rhodey nodded, and Tony got up. This time, at least, his legs didn’t give out on him.

He found Morgan wrapped in her Elsa blanket, sniffling miserably. Somehow, she’d managed not to wake up Pepper. Tony sat down with her on the sofa he’d tried to get Peter to take. She snuggled into his arms, sucking contentedly on a juice box, no longer on the verge of tears now that she had someone looking after her.

Peter was fine, Tony told himself, unable to let go of his worry. Peter was with Rhodey. There was no one else Tony would trust with his kids, except Pepper, of course. Well, and Happy. And May, when it came to Peter. Still, Rhodey made the very short list.

“Daddy? What’s wrong?” Morgan asked, looking up at him.

“Nothing, baby,” Tony said, and held her tighter. He hoped it was true. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

***

Rhodey was a good nurse. Not as good as Ben, but still pretty good. He didn’t overreact when Peter threw up his pills, and he didn’t make fun of Peter when he asked for the Iron Man snuggie Tony had bought him as a joke for his last birthday. Having Rhodey there was a lot better than lying alone on the bathroom floor, that was for sure.

He just wasn’t Tony.

“You need anything else, Peter?” Rhodey asked, once Peter was tucked in with his Iron Man snuggie and another ginger ale. He wasn’t feeling so shaky anymore; the sugar in the soda had nudged his blood sugar up a little.

Peter shook his head, looking away.

“You sure?” Rhodey prodded. “Maybe some soup?”

“I really just want to sleep,” Peter muttered, pulling his hands inside the sleeves. Really what he wanted was to be alone. He felt like he was about to lose it, and he didn’t want to cry in front of War Machine. He really didn’t want to explain why he was crying, either.

It shouldn’t feel like abandonment. Not when Peter himself had been the one to decide to stay downstairs and the one not to call for help; not when Tony had asked if he was all right before leaving him with Rhodey. And yet there was a hollow feeling in Peter’s chest, a hot prickling at the backs of his eyes, and a sick feeling in his stomach.

Though that last one might’ve just been the flu.

Rhodey frowned. “All right, but when you wake up, we’ve got to try and get some food into you. Even if it’s just broth.”

Peter nodded. Rhodey left, pulling the door shut behind him.

Peter let out a shaky breath. He pulled the snuggie more tightly around him and let his face crumple. His breath hitched once, twice, and his eyes spilled over.

Upstairs, Tony was reading Make Way for Ducklings to Morgan. Peter could hear him, even though he was keeping his voice low. Peter closed his eyes, clutching the soft fabric. Ben had liked Hats for Sale more than Make Way for Ducklings, but either way, being read to had always made Peter feel safe and loved. Even when Peter got older, Ben would still read to him sometimes when he was sick.

Thinking about Ben just made Peter cry harder. He cried until he almost couldn’t breathe, because he missed Ben so goddamn much, and he just felt like a mess of hurt and shame, too weak to take care of himself and too stubborn to ask for what he needed. Ben would have just known, he thought, pressing his face into his pillow to muffle his sobs.

Peter’s watch buzzed against his wrist. “Peter, you seem very distressed,” FRIDAY said.

Peter shook his head. “I’m fine. FRIDAY, don’t––don’t tell Tony. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“There is a very low probability that Mr. Stark would ever consider this to be causing trouble.”

Peter’s eyes filled with tears all over again. “He’s taking care of Morgan. That’s where he should be.” Just like Ben had taken care of him. He couldn’t take that away from Morgan, not for anything.

“Then allow me to alert Colonel Rhodes,” FRIDAY said, her voice unusually gentle.

“No!” Peter said instantly, shaking his head. “No, no. Please don’t.”

FRIDAY didn’t say anything. Peter drew another hitching breath and buried his face in his pillow.

He had no idea how long he lay there, sniffling miserably. He would’ve liked to fall asleep––he’d been up all night, and he knew that if he wanted to get better, he had to get some sleep. But he couldn’t seem to settle.

Eventually, there was a light tapping at his door. “Peter?” he heard Colonel Rhodes say quietly. “FRIDAY said you’re awake. I was going to heat up some soup, do you want some?”

“No, thanks,” Peter said, trying to keep his voice clear and even.

He obviously failed, though, because Colonel Rhodes sucked in a breath. “Pete? You okay?”

“Yeah, just... not feeling well, that’s all.”

Colonel Rhodes sat on the edge of his bed. “Can you look at me?”

Peter was so busted. “Rather not,” he muttered.

“Peter.”

Peter sighed and rolled onto his back. Colonel Rhodes’s eyes widened. “Aww, jeez, kid, what’s wrong?”

Peter sniffled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to talk about it with someone, even if it’s not me. Tony’ll have my head if I don’t––”

“Don’t tell Tony!” Peter gasped. “Please. I––I don’t want to bother him.”

“Bother him?” Rhodey said. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s just––Pepper and Morgan are sick, too, you know? They’re his family. His real family.”

“His real––” Rhodey stopped. “Damn it. Okay, listen to me. I’m going to go get Tony, because he’s the one you need to talk to, but before I do that, I’m going to say one thing, and one thing only. Are you listening?”

Peter nodded.

“When it comes to family, Tony Stark does not give a flying fuck about biology.”

Peter’s eyes widened.

“You’ve probably already realized this,” Colonel Rhodes went on, “but Tony’s dad was a piece of shit. His mom was okay, except she wasn’t willing to stand up to his dad at all. So biological family never did much for him. But I’m his brother in everything but blood, and you, kid, are his son in all the ways that matter. You understand me?”

Peter nodded again.

“Okay,” Rhodey said. “I’m going to go get Tony for you. But remember what I said. Biology doesn’t fucking matter to him.”

Rhodey left without another word. Peter sat in bed with the covers pulled up to his chin, wondering if he could hide under the covers. Usually he’d have just gone out the window, but he still felt like something Gerald had scraped off his hoof, so he didn’t think he’d get very far.

He managed to block out hearing whatever Rhodey said to Tony upstairs, but he heard Tony coming down the stairs. He was moving at about a quarter of his usual speed, but he didn’t have to pause and rest this time. He stopped in the kitchen briefly––to get something out of the fridge, it sounded like––then continued down the hallway.

He let himself into Peter’s room and paused by the bed. “Mind if I join you?”

Peter pulled the blankets back by way of reply. Tony climbed in and cracked open the Gatorade, offering it to him. Peter accepted it, and Tony slid his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Peter rested his head on Tony’s shoulder and took a small sip.

Tony didn’t say a word. He didn’t start talking. He didn’t demand to know why Peter had thought he wasn’t part of Tony’s family. He didn’t say anything at all. He just... held Peter.

All the anxiety that had been coiled tight around Peter’s chest all night and all morning unwound, slowly, with every beat of Tony’s heart.

“Talk to me, kiddo,” Tony finally murmured at last, after a long, long silence.

“I miss Ben,” Peter said, probably surprising both of them. “He used to take care of me when I was sick. And I just... I really wish he was here.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t come upstairs?” Tony asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

“No, not... not really.” Peter hesitated. “Morgan deserves to have you the way I had Ben,” he finally whispered. “I didn’t want to take you away from her. But... but I need you. I’m sorry, I tried to take care of myself, but I couldn’t, and I just––” His voice cracked. “I really need you.”

“Oh, Pete,” Tony sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

Peter sniffed. “Why?” he asked, bewildered. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You tried to get me to come upstairs, and I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, but I knew there was something going on with you, and I didn’t push hard enough,” Tony replied. “There were red flags all over the place, and I ignored them.”

Peter buried his face in Tony’s shoulder. “You’re sick, too,” he mumbled, muffled. “Not your fault.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree about that,” Tony said. He pulled away to look Peter in the face, and pushed some of the hair off Peter’s forehead. “I know Rhodey told you this already, but family isn’t about biology for me. Biological family is a genetic lottery. My real family is the people I’ve chosen. You’re as much my kid as Morgan is, Pete. I know you have a hard time with that, though, so I’m going to take it upon myself to remind you as often as possible.”

“Oh God,” Peter groaned, dropping his face to Tony’s shoulder again. “This is going to be embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“So embarrassing,” Tony agreed. He pressed his lips to Peter’s head. “I love you, kid.”

Peter turned his head to the side. “I love you, too. Sorry for being a pain in the ass.”

“Ehhh, you’re my pain in the ass, kid. Which is pretty much the definition of parenthood.” Tony nudged the bottle of Gatorade toward Peter’s face. “Drink some more of this so we can take a nap. I’m exhausted.”

Peter tensed up. “You can go back upstairs if––”

“Nuh uh. None of that. Pepper and Morgan have Rhodey waiting on them hand and foot. You and I are going to crash out for a bit, and when we wake up, we’re all going to have a family movie day together. All of us. Sound like a plan?”

Peter nodded. “Okay.” He rested his head against Tony’s chest and sipped slowly at his Gatorade. His eyelids got heavier and heavier, until he finally felt Tony take the Gatorade away and set it aside.

“Sweet dreams, Pete,” Tony murmured, and Peter drifted off listening to the steady beat of Tony’s heart.

***

It was late afternoon when Tony woke. He rubbed his face, disoriented, until Peter stirred, and Tony remembered where he was and why. Peter settled again with a sigh, face smooth and peaceful in sleep. Tony resisted the urge to brush the hair back from his face, worried that he’d wake him.

Faintly, he could hear the TV in the living room––Lilo and Stitch, judging by the soundtrack. Morgan must be feeling a little better. Tony got up and tucked the blankets back over Peter. He paused, waiting to see if Peter woke, but he slept on.

Morgan and Pepper were curled up together under a cozy throw on the chaise portion of the sofa. Tony leaned over the back and kissed them both on the tops of their heads.

Pepper tilted her head back, smiling wearily up at him. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi, honey,” he echoed. “Hey, Mo. You guys doing okay?”

“Uncle Rhodey made oatmeal,” Morgan replied, snuggling closer to Pepper. “With raisins.”

“That was nice of Uncle Rhodey. Did you thank him?”

“Yeah.”

“Good job.” Tony ghosted his hand over Morgan’s head. She leaned her head back and smiled up at him before looking back at the TV.

“How’s Peter?” Pepper asked.

“Sleeping,” Tony said. “He was up all night, so he might be out for a while yet.”

He left Pepper and Morgan in the living room and went into the kitchen, where Rhodey was stirring soup on the stove. “Hey,” Tony said.

“Hey,” Rhodey returned with a smile. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been run over,” Tony sighed, getting a ginger ale from the fridge. “Thank you for doing this, Rhodey. Seriously. And thanks for talking to Peter.”

“Not a problem,” Rhodey said. He gave the soup a stir. “Has he ever talked to anyone about his anxiety? Or about anything else?”

“No,” Tony said. “I tried to get him to after Europe last year, but he said he was fine.”

“Yeah, no,” Rhodey said flatly. “The kid definitely isn’t fine. And we both know what happens when someone tried to subliminate emotional pain into being a superhero, instead of dealing with it head-on.”

Tony sniffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm,” Rhodey said with a roll of his eyes. “Sit your ass down. I’ll bring you your soup.”

Tony obediently went to join Pepper and Morgan on the sofa. Morgan wedged herself in between her parents, and Tony tossed another blanket over the three of them. Rhodey brought them soup, as promised, in mugs––mostly broth, with a few veggies and some chunks of chicken.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Pepper told him.

“Don’t I know it,” Rhodey replied, dropping into an armchair with a sigh.

They’d finished Lilo and Stitch and moved on to Toy Story when Peter emerged from his room. He shuffled slowly down the hallway, wrapped in that silly Iron Man snuggie Tony had given him as a joke.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony said, pausing the movie. “How’re you doing?”

“Okay,” Peter said, looking anything but. He hesitated at the edge of the living room rug.

“Why don’t you come join us?” Pepper suggested gently. “We’re all watching a movie. Rhodey can get you some soup if you’d like some.”

“Maybe not soup yet,” Peter said, grimacing, “but, um, do we have any Sprite?”

“Yeah, I’m sure we do,” Rhodey said, getting up.

Peter still looked hesitant. He ventured into the living room, eyeing the chair Rhodey had vacated.

This kid. This kid was going to kill Tony. “Right here, Peter,” Tony said, glancing at the sofa next to him. “There’s plenty of space.”

Peter nodded. He sat down on the sofa. Pepper hit play on the movie.

Peter was on Tony’s right side, and since he wasn’t wearing the prosthesis, he couldn’t put his arm around him. Instead he briefly pulled his left arm from around Morgan and grabbed a cushion to put on his lap. “Come on, lie down,” he said. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

Peter bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, kid,” Tony said, trying not to sound too exasperated. “Remember what I told you?”

Peter nodded. He lay down, head in Tony’s lap. Pepper reached over and smoothed the hair back from Peter’s face, smiling at him. Peter smiled back, tentatively.

“You’ll sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, next door to us,” she told him, decisively––the way Tony should have yesterday. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, leaving it up to Peter to decide.

“Okay,” Peter agreed meekly.

Tony put his arm back around Pepper’s shoulders and squeezed them gently in thanks. She rested her head on his shoulder.

Rhodey returned with Peter’s Sprite. Peter sat up a little, leaning against Tony, so he could drink it through a straw. Rhodey settled back into the armchair and they all turned their attention to the movie. Except for Tony, who couldn’t stop himself from watching Peter as he sipped his soda.

“What?” Peter finally whispered, looking up at Tony.

“Nothing.”

“Shh,” Morgan hissed, as though she hadn’t seen the movie a thousand times before.

“You’re staring at me like a creeper,” Peter whispered. “Why?”

“Because I love you,” Tony said. “Because you’re my kid.”

“Shhhh,” Morgan hissed again, craning her head back to glare at Tony.

“Oh God,” Peter groaned. “This is what you meant when you said you’d remind me, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Tony said, unrepentant. “You asked for it, kiddo.”

“Daddy,” Morgan whined, “you’re ruining the movie!”

“Sorry, baby,” Tony said. “I just had to remind your brother I love him just like I love you.”

“Ugh,” Morgan said. “Whatever. Be quiet.”

“Morgan, don’t be rude to your father,” Pepper admonished.

“He’s being rude! He’s talking during the movie!”

Peter giggled. It was very quiet, but Tony heard it. And he sank a little further into Tony’s side, too, like he’d finally decided it was okay for him to stay.

Tony kissed the top of Peter’s head. “Love you, Pete.”

“So you said.”

“Just thought I’d say it again. So you know.”

“I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes!”

“Shhh!”

Tony subsided, satisfied, and possibly a little quelled by the glare Morgan leveled in his direction. He doubted this would be the last time he’d have remind Peter that he loved him just like Morgan, but for the moment, he felt like his work here was done.

Fin.