Work Text:
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Peter’s shoulders dropped, and he turned to see Mr. Stark standing at the bottom of the staircase, wearing his pajamas with an Iron Man robe. His slippers were the Spider-Man ones Peter had gotten him last Christmas as a joke, but Peter was too sad and bitter about having a flu on the most magical night of the year to be happy he was wearing them.
“Just for a drive,” said Peter.
“A drive?” questioned Mr. Stark. “It’s almost two in the morning.”
“Mr. Starkkkk,” he said, also too sick to care about having to resort to whining. “I just wanna be spooky.”
“Whatever virus that’s working its way through your system is already spooky enough, kid.”
“You know what I mean. And I’m not even that sick anymore.” As if on cue, and as much as he tried holding it in, Peter sneezed. “Allergies.”
“Uh huh,” said Mr. Stark. He took a couple steps forward and put his head on Peter’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”
Peter groaned, and let Mr. Stark guide him to the couch, where he had to admit, he was happy to have the chance to be sitting down.
“There will be other Halloweens, Pete,” said Mr. Stark. He started taking off Peter’s shoes, and he was too dazed by his fever to give him a good kick in the face.
“Maybe not,” said Peter. He tried not to dwell on how pathetic his voice sounded, both whiny and stuffed up from his flu sent straight from hell. “The life expectancy of an Avenger isn’t that great. This could be my last chance.”
Mr. Stark stopped untying his tennis shoe and gave him a look. “Okay, never say that again, unless you want me to call up Sam and have him kick you off the team.”
“He kicks me off the team once or twice a week. Never lasts.”
“Shame,” said Mr. Stark. He managed to get Peter’s last shoe off, and he tossed it across the living room. “How many socks did you put on?”
“As many as I could,” he answered. He’d actually had to remove the last pair, because it’d made his feet so puffy they couldn’t fit inside his shoe. “I’m cold.”
“And you were going to sneak outside of this house and go to a Halloween party?”
Peter blinked. Not understanding why Tony Stark, the self-proclaimed genius, couldn’t get it through his head that Halloween parties were the best parties.
Mr. Stark released a slow breath. “Don’t go anywhere. I made something for you in the lab.”
He left the living room before Peter could ask what it was. Not like it mattered. Not like anything could cheer him up on this cursed Halloween night, where he was stuck on a couch in the lake house, feeling absolutely miserable and missing out on, probably, the greatest party of his High School years.
When Mr. Stark came back, he carried with him a blue, red, and black blanket. He threw it at Peter, and when it landed on him, he melted with the warmth radiating from it.
“It’s heated?” asked Peter. He looked for the electrical wires and found none. “It’s magic.”
“It’s the same technology I put in your suit, genius,” said Mr. Stark, as he helped Peter wrap himself up in the blanket.
Peter didn’t ever remember feeling so warm. It took the edge off his sickness, and almost, almost made up for the fact that he was missing Halloween.
“My throat hurts,” Peter told him.
“You tricked me.”
“What?”
“You weren’t really trying to sneak out,” said Mr. Stark. He pointed an accusing finger at him. “You just knew Friday would wake me up, and you wanted me to come down here and make you soup.”
“That’s ridiculous, Mr. Stark. I wanted to party,” said Peter, trying and failing to suppress another sneeze. It rocked him backwards, sunk him into the couch cushions, and he was too exhausted to sit back up.
It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Peter did want to go to the party but wanting was different than knowing it was probably a bad idea to spread his germs to his classmates.
Mr. Stark crossed his arms. “So you don’t want soup?”
“Well, yeah, sort of. Now that you’re up.”
Mr. Stark grumbled something under his breath but disappeared from the living room anyway. A few minutes later Peter heard the blessed sound of pots and pans banging together, so he let himself relax with the magic blanket. His only problem now was that the remote to the TV was all the way across the room.
Peter stared at it, and imagined getting up, walking across the room and getting it. Unfortunately imagining it was just about all he could handle, and later, when Mr. Stark came back into the living with Gatorade, a bowl of soup and a packet of crackers, Peter had only managed to raise his hand up and in the direction of the remote.
“What are you doing?” asked Mr. Stark. He put Peter’s food on a TV tray and pushed it up against the couch.
“Trying to use the force to call the remote.”
“Why don’t you just have Friday turn on the TV?”
Peter groaned at his own stupidity. “Forgot about her.”
Mr. Stark chuckled, and grabbed Peter by the arm, helping him sit up so he could start eating. While Peter relished in the way the soup felt against his scratchy throat, Mr. Stark browsed through the movie catalogue on the TV.
“What do you want to watch?” he asked him.
“Something spooky,” answered Peter. If he wasn’t going to any parties, at least he could still watch a good Halloween movie.
Mr. Stark had Friday bring up IT.
“Not that spooky,” said Peter. “No clowns. Too sick for clowns.”
He laughed at his perfectly rational fear but kept browsing until they both agreed to watch the first Scream.
“Can’t go wrong with a slasher,” said Mr. Stark.
“Nope,” Peter agreed, finishing up his soup and sinking back down into the cushions, under his heated blanket. He didn’t care what Mr. Stark said. It really was magic, the way it melted all his aches and pains away.
“Next time you want soup, just ask me, it’s what I’m here for.”
“This was way more fun,” said Peter. He let his heavy eyes slid shut. “Plus I got this blanket. Thanks, Mr. Stark, it’s great.”
“Like I said, it’s what I’m here for.”
Peter nodded and felt himself drifting off to the sound of screaming coming from the TV and the steady sound of Mr. Stark’s heartbeat. He supposed that his Halloween hadn’t turned out quite that bad, and if he was still sick in the morning, if he played his cards right, he could probably convince Mr. Stark into keeping the Halloween decorations up until Christmas.