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Tony cracked his eyes open to the sound of footsteps approaching his bedroom. Then, the moment he heard the door creaking open he shut them again, hoping that if he feigned sleep, whoever it was, probably Peter, would leave him alone. There was no such luck.
"Hey, Mr. Stark," Peter quietly spoke as he crossed the threshold. "I'm back."
Tony sighed but kept his eyes closed tight. When he'd sent the kid to the store, he'd imagined it would take a little longer than it had. He could hear the boy approaching his bedside and quietly sighed.
"Are you awake?" Peter asked while placing the receipt and change on the bedside table.
"No," Tony grumbled but opened his eyes all the same. He was ninety-nine percent sure that the kid was planning on 'waking him up' anyway.
With a sympathetic smile, Peter took in his mentor's red nose and pale cheeks. "I couldn't find the exact soup you asked for so I got you some chicken noodle instead. I also got you some applesauce, some orange juice, and some cold medicine. I had to ask the pharmacist what to buy since I'm not old enough to get the stuff from behind the counter," he said, already tearing open the box and pulling out the sealed bottle.
Tony suppressed a cough and rolled over to find the kid already measuring out a dose of bright orange syrup into a tiny plastic cup. "I'm not taking that," he said with a huff.
"Why not?", Peter asked with a small laugh, "It'll make you feel better."
"Maybe I prefer to feel miserable," Tony groaned even though that wasn't the case. He wanted to feel better, he just figured it would be easier to just ride it out. Just... tough it out and sleep it off.
Peter shook his head and as he crossed the room, medicine in hand. "No one prefers to feel miserable Mr. Stark," he said.
"Ever heard of masochism?" Tony asked with a sarcastic quirk of his brow and almost laughed when the boy's face scrunched up in confusion.
"Huh?" Peter finally asked when he couldn't quite place the word. He knew he'd heard it before but he wasn't certain he could define it.
"Never mind," Tony chuckled before pointing towards the cup that the kid was still trying to hand him. "The point is, I'm not drinking that and you can't make me."
After taking a seat at the edge of the bed, Peter sighed deeply. "When I was little May used to hide medicine in my applesauce," he mused.
"Is that why you bought applesauce?" Tony questioned with a huff. If the kid thought he was going to fall for that he was sorely mistaken. Especially now that he'd been made aware of it.
"No, I bought the applesauce for vitamin C," Peter replied with a laugh. "Do you want some?"
"I don't know if I can trust you..." Tony said with wary eyes and a mirthful smirk.
"Oh my god, It's pre-packaged. I'll be right back," Peter replied and then hopped up off of the bed and took off out of the room without another word, returning moments later with a tray in hand.
Tony begrudgingly ate the applesauce but only because he was hungry and it was soft enough to not hurt his sore throat. When he'd scraped the bowl clean he drank the glass of juice that the kid had poured him in one long breath, cringing a little as he pulled the cup away from his mouth.
"What brand of juice is this?" he asked in mild complaint.
For a moment, Peter tensed up. "Why do you ask?"
"It just has sort of a weird aftertaste. It's store brand isn't it," Tony said, still smacking his lips together in an attempt to rid himself of the lingering bitterness.
Peter nodded because it was a store brand but he was sure that wasn't the actual problem. "You know, when I got a little older and figured out that May was putting my medicine in the applesauce I stopped eating it," he casually mentioned.
Not really knowing how to respond to that, Tony simply said, "Oh, yeah?"
Peter hummed in response and then looked sheepishly towards his mentor. "Then she started mixing it in my juice."
With shock written all over his face, Tony looked down at his empty cup and back up at Peter who was practically falling over laughing. His kid had completely bamboozled him and suddenly he was laughing too. "You sneaky little shit," he said as he pulled the boy in, ruffling his hair, and then gently shoved him off the bed.
He had to admit that he did feel better but it had nothing to do with the covertly administered pharmaceutical. He was sure it had more to do with the kid's annoyingly doting presence than anything else because as they say, laughter is the best medicine.