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Peter falls asleep floating, but he wakes up on fire.
His skin aches, it cracks and it breaks against the hot plastic underneath him, against, even, the smooth surface of his sunglasses. He wants off this ride. He wants to dip off the giant, inflatable unicorn he had loved before his nap, and into the lake, where the cold water is sure to put out these flames.
It’s a delicate situation, though. The thought of moving at all, the idea of rubbing his skin against the plastic even further, is traumatizing. It keeps him pinned to that unicorn, under the blazing, bright sun, subject to its torturing gaze.
He decides it has to be fast, like Flash to the lunchroom, or like MJ to her favorite true crime podcast. He closes his eyes, and he flips his body into the lake.
Peter loses his sunglasses when he’s under water, but doesn’t care enough to splash around for them. The coolness he’s engulfed in is soothing, though there’s still fire under his skin, and a sun above his head. He swims to shore, emerging just in time to greet Pepper, Tony, and Morgan by the dock.
“Peter?” asks Morgan. “Why are you all red like ketchup? ‘Cept around your eyes, like Aunt Nebby’s raccoon friend?”
“Because Peter didn’t listen to his wise mentor and put sunblock on,” says Tony.
“So sunburns are real?”
“Of course they’re real. I wouldn’t lie.”
Morgan frowns, kicks at some grass, and miserably says, “All I know is broccoli never gave me any superpowers.”
“That’s because you haven’t eaten enough of it yet.”
Pepper looks at Tony like she wants to slap him, before her face folds into concern when she pulls her attention to Peter.
“Oh, Pete, that looks really bad,” she says, reaching her hand to his forehead.
“Don’t touch,” says Peter, stepping backwards.
“He needs a cold bath,” she tells Tony, still grimacing. “And some Aloe, I’ll run out and get some. You need to check his temperature. He might have a fever.”
Tony nods, and Pepper marches on, straight to the business of running off to the drug store to pick up the aloe.
“Alright, angry bird, let’s get you out of the sun and into the bath.”
Peter growls at the annoying nickname, but his skin hurts too badly to do anything except make futile noises of complaint.
*
Peter sits in the cool bath, still wearing his swim trunks. He tries to keep his eyes open, but they’re heavy. Apparently the sun had zapped his energy while it fried him.
Cool water against burnt skin it’s a strange duality. It’s a feeling he thinks he might appreciate more if it weren’t for the nauseous feeling creeping up in his belly, or the way his head and eyes along with his skin, or the way he just wants to be asleep.
“Ok hellboy,” says Tony, as he walks into the bathroom with supplies. “Open your mouth.”
“Please stop with the nicknames,” mutters Peter. He opens his mouth, and Tony puts the thermometer in and clicks the on button.
“No promises.”
Peter knows before it starts beeping that he’s got a fever. It’s just his luck, and he feels awful enough to be considered sick without the fever.
Tony takes the thermometer, looks at it, and sighs, before putting it down on the sink. “Am I a bad parent if I say I told you so? About the sunscreen?”
“Yes.”
“Then I won’t say it.”
“Technically you already did say it,” says Peter. He’s tempted to splash some water in Tony’s direction, but the effort that would require is too great. “How bad is the fever?”
“Not ER bad,” says Tony. “More like your ass is gonna be resting for the rest of the weekend bad.”
“Great.”
“Could be worse.”
“Don’t really see how.”
Peter had been looking forward to a weekend away from the city, from the responsibility of Spider-Man and school. Tony’s lake house is the perfect escape, unless you fall asleep on the giant, floating unicorn. Now the only relaxing he’s going to get is accompanied by painful burns, a fever and Tony’s constant mother-henning.
“I’m gonna murder that unicorn,” says Peter. “I’m gonna take a kitchen knife -”
“-yeah, no,” says Tony. “If you do that, Morgan will just have me resurrect it with patches. And don’t blame the unicorn. Next time wear sunblock.”
Peter groans, and Tony hands him a bottle of water and two small pills.
“Two supercharged Ibuprofen for the super red kid,” says Tony.
He plops the pills in his mouth, unscrews the lid to the water bottle, and gulps down some water, swallows the pills. He tries handing the water back off to Tony, but the man won’t accept it.
“Sip on it. Google says you need to stay hydrated.”
“Does Google say how long I have to stay in this bath?”
“Until you’re ready to come out.”
Tony leaves the bathroom and comes back with a change of clothes for Peter, the aloe Pepper had gotten for him and a tube of hydrocortisone lotion. Before he leaves Peter to change, he stops him with one last request.
“Can you put a Gatorade in the freezer?”
“Sure,” says Tony. “But, water first.”
“Yeah, yeah,” says Peter. Tony starts to leave again. “Wait!”
“Yes?”
“You gotta set the timer. For the Gatorade. So it’s just right, and it’s half slushy.”
“Got it. Gatorade slushy.”
“And it has to be Glacier Cherry.” Peter yells as Tony tries to leave again.
Tony stops, puts a hand on the doorframe, and looks at Peter. “Anything else, prince of the red Sour Patch kids?”
“And some crackers.”
“For someone who complains about my hovering, you sure seem to be taking advantage of it.”
Tony manages to get away that time, before Peter can tell him there’s a difference between demanding slushies and crackers and having him shove a thermometer at him.
*
Peter wakes with a whimper.
He’s cold, and hot, and his legs are tangled up in his blankets. Trying to free himself only makes him dizzy, or at least causes him to remember how dizzy he’d been before falling asleep. He falls from his bed in the struggle, knocking an empty Gatorade bottle from his nightstand, then thumps to the floor. A rubber straw landing near his head.
And his room is spinning with his fever. The carpet rubs against the burns on his face, his head pounds, and all Peter can do is cling to the floor, holding on for dear life.
Until he can focus, with his ears, on a heartbeat that gets closer and closer.
“Peter?” asks Tony. “Buddy, what are you doing on the floor?”
“‘urts,” is all Peter manages to say.
“It’d probably help to be up on your bed.”
“Can’t move,” says Peter. He digs his fingers into the carpet.
Tony helps him to his feet, avoiding his burnt skin by lifting him up from under his arms. Peter sits on the bed, and wobbles, until he has enough sense to lay his head back down on the pillow and let Tony work out the blankets.
“Alright,” says Tony, throwing the blanket over him. “No more falling out of bed.”
Peter nods his head a little.
“Glad we understand each other,” says Tony. “So, you stay here, and I’ll be back.”
Peter watches Tony leave, and it isn’t long before his back with more water, more pills, and a cold washcloth. He sits on the edge of Peter’s bed, and waits until he’s gotten the pills down to take the water bottle back.
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“You didn’t,” says Tony. “My alarm did.”
Peter frowns, and he elaborates.
“I set my alarm for when it was time for you to have another dose of the pain meds,” says Tony. “The thought of you laying in here all french fried and in pain would’ve made me miserable in the morning.”
“Oh,” says Peter. “Thanks.”
“What else am I here for?” he whispers. “Now go back to sleep. Let those super healing powers do their magic.”
Peter didn’t need to be told twice. His eyes slide shut, and Tony presses the cold wash cloth against his forehead. Sleep comes fast, thanks to the soothing coolness, and the steady, gentle beat of Tony’s heart.
*
*
*
3 weeks later
The sun is blaring down, but Peter doesn’t care. He’s remembered his sunscreen.
He looks at his giant, inflatable avocado with pride. Way better than a unicorn, he decides. After his experience with sun poisoning, anything is better than a unicorn, but if he’s going to lay about the lake all day long, it might as well be on the super fruit.
“Why are you so white?” asks Morgan. “Like a ghost?”
“I think that’s what we call overcorrecting, Morguna,” says Tony.
“There’s no such thing as too much sunscreen,” says Peter. He double thinks, and gives Pepper a worried look. “Right?”
“Right,” she assures him.
“Good,” says Peter, with a sigh of relief.
His skin had peeled for at least a week after being traumatized by the sun, and he’s determined to never let that happen again. Even if he has to use a whole bottle of sunblock every hour. Even if he never looks at the unicorn again.
Peter sets his avocado in the lake to sail, and drifts away, this time sun-protected and ready to safely nap.