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"Peter? What is it now? I'm right in the middle of something here—"
Peter stared absently onto his shoes and the sidewalk, fighting the heavy weight that had just landed deep down in his stomach. He had debated calling Tony for almost half an hour before mustering the courage to do so. A cold wind crept beneath his light parka and made him shiver. He'd done it again. He was being a burden again. He was disturbing Tony. The man sounded stressed and on edge, there was a lot of rumor and noise in the background. And now Peter was just adding to his stress, for sure.
"Peter? Earth to Underoos?"
"Huh?" Peter breathed a shaky breath, leaving puffy clouds hanging in the brisk autumn air in front of him. Neon lights surrounded him, only interrupted by dark alleyways between the ominous blocks around the old library where he had spent the afternoon in a state between napping and trying to study.
"Uh, sorry, Mr. Stark. I must've dialed accidentally." He shivered. Cold sweat ran down his back.
"Seriously, Pete? Did you destroy your phone screen again or how did this happen?"
Peter had zoned out once more and shook his head absently. Yes, of course. His phone. He had damaged his old phone the week before on patrol and Tony had had to replace it. Burden.
A burden again.
Right now his phone was fine. Just Peter wasn't.
"Peter? Are you even listening? I really need to go now." Peter gulped.
"Yeah, of course. Sorry, Mr. Stark. It won't happen again." With this, he quickly ended the call, heart beating fast in his throat. He really needed to get it together. Everything. He was almost seventeen. He couldn't rely on everyone else to solve his problems. He needed to take care of himself. Alone.
Grow up, Parker.
"Don't be a burden," he whispered, followed by a deep cough. He shivered again, leaning against the cold front of an empty shop he'd just passed. He took a moment, trying to normalize his breathing. Every gasp burned in his throat and his chest was on fire. This was the second day of him feeling under the weather. To put it lightly. And it was only getting worse.
It was quite rare for him to get sick after the bite, but when he managed to come down with something, it was always with the more persistent type of illness that even his enhanced immune system struggled fighting.
Lightheadedly, he grasped for his hat and freed his locks, trying to compensate for the sudden hot rush running through his body.
"Go home," he told himself, gripping the hat and squinting at the bright streetlights. Slowly, he made his way to the subway station, already dreading the long ride home.
He had called. He had called Tony for help. For maybe sending Happy to pick him up or something. To bring him home. But then— then he'd been nothing but a burden. From the first few words that Tony had spoken, he'd known it.
"What is it now?" As in "you again!" As in "stop bothering!" As in "grow up already!" The lump in Peter's stomach twisted painfully as he carefully limped down the stairs to the station, trying to blend out all the noise and commotion around him. The city was buzzing on a Friday evening. It hurts. The lights, the noise. Like a sharp knife wedged right between his eyes.
As his train arrived, he stumbled through the doors, almost taken aback by the stench and the endless stream of voices that greeted him. He tucked himself into a corner and closed his eyes, breathing deep breaths through his mouth to calm his stomach.
When he finally arrived, he tumbled onto the platform, leaning heavily against a pillar, bending over. People and time rushed past him. He didn't know how long he lingered in the station, but his limbs felt like jelly as he started moving again. Just a few more blocks. Everything passed in a haze of either blazing heat or dreadful coldness. His whole body shook as he made his way up to the apartment.
He fumbled with the keys, his hands unsteady and weak. Finally, the door swung open and revealed a dark and empty flat. Three more days of May gone to Florida to visit an old friend of hers. Three more days of Peter struggling with literally everything, including self-preservation. How was it even possible that one was that useless and incapable?
Peter sighed, knowing that he was going too hard on himself. But now that he made it home on his own, he felt ashamed of even considering asking Tony for help just because he was feeling a little sick.
He felt a blush of embarrassment covering his already flushed and hot cheeks as he dropped his jacket and bag carelessly on the floor, shoes and trousers following. He didn't even bother to turn on any lights. He just feebly felt his way to his room, coughing hard again as he put on his pajama pants. He dropped onto his bed and was gone by the moment his head sunk into the cushion.
—
2:34 AM.
He didn't know what had woken him but he felt weird. The first few minutes he didn't even know where he was. All he knew was that everything was hot. And everything was cold. And there was pain in his legs, combined with a strange numbness. And the stabbing from between his eyes had expanded. The world was rolling like a ship through stormy sea. It made him nauseous.
And something else was quite…off? He couldn't put a finger on it, but he had to do something. To go somewhere. Something was missing.
Peter sat up and searched his nightstand for his phone. What was it? What was wrong? What did he miss? Why was he feeling so strange?
He found the device and looked at the screen, only greeted by an obscure mixture of numbers and letters that didn't make sense at all. He tried scrolling through some random apps, but everything was off. Nothing made sense. And Peter started to feel the familiar feeling of anxiety creeping up on the edges of his mind.
What was wrong?
He shivered and got up slowly. Bringing his phone along, he wandered into the living room where he put on his shoes and jacket, not bothering to change his pants.
He needed to…what? He didn't know. But the answer wasn't to be found in the flat. That he was sure of.
He closed the door and swayed down the stairs, exiting the building. Cold night air surrounded him instantly and made his shivering even worse. He tried checking his phone again. This time the numbers and letters were moving, changing places randomly.
Peter felt tears pricking his eyes. He was afraid. He didn't know what was going on. And it scared him. Everything scared him. His phone, his numb legs, the empty street that was drenched in an odd yellow light.
He walked slowly, turning every few meters to check if he was being followed, until he arrived at a bus stop. A few leaves drifted by, rustling. He tried reading the timetable, but, same as with his phone, nothing would make sense. Everything was mixed up and Peter couldn't even say for sure if he was looking at numbers or letters or at something totally different. Some shadows passed him by, sending him weird looks. He heard heels clicking and laughter. Someone was screaming excitedly in the distance.
Peter tried to fight the dreadful feeling in his gut. He tried to control the fear and nagging panic.
What was he doing here?
Something. There was something. He clutched his phone in his hand, almost jumping as he accidentally pressed the home button for too long, activating his AI.
"What can I do for you, Peter?" A female voice suddenly asked him. Peter blinked surprised.
"Who…? Who are you?" He looked around, irritated.
"It's me, Karen, your AI. You seem to be in distress, Peter," the voice spoke softly. Karen. There was something familiar about this name and the voice. "Is something scaring you?"
Yeah. He was scared. Way too scared. But he couldn't leave. He had to find…- what? What should he find?
"Peter? Shall I call for help? Shall I call Mr. Stark?" Peter tumbled and swayed from one foot to the other. Maybe he should sit down. Yeah. Clumsily, he made his way down to sit on the curb, the soft voice still in his ears. He looked down at his phone, realizing that the lady was speaking from within the device.
"Oh," he breathed.
"Calling Mr. Stark." The voice had decided for him. Karen had taken the wheel.
Peter listened to the dialing sound, fighting the urge to lay down on the concrete. There was still something off. Something he needed to take care of. There was a noise in the line after the third tone.
"Peter?"
He felt the weight in his stomach again. The lady voice was gone. Karen was gone. And replaced by a male voice that was just trying to shake off traces of sleep.
"Oh, it's late," Peter realized, staring blankly on the display before putting the phone to his ear.
"No shit, kid," came the answer. Peter heard ruffling in the background then the voice was back again.
"Why are you calling in the middle of the night, kiddo? Friday says you aren't in the suit, if you tell me you've hacked into my tech again and disabled—"
"There is something missing," Peter interrupted bluntly.
"Come again?"
"There is something missing. Something is off and I don't know what it is." He felt like crying. He was relieved and afraid at the same time. The voice on the line was comforting, but still there was something in the back of his mind. Peter sighed, resulting in a hacking cough. He needed to go somewhere.
"Pete? Are you alright, kid? Where are you?" Peter let his back sink down onto the sidewalk, a few shadows passed him, only sending weird looks again.
"It hurts. And I dunno what's off."
The voice on the other side of the line changed. It was concerned.
"Underoos, what's happening? You don't make sense. You're hurt? I can't get any readings from Karen." Peter heard something in the background of the call again.
"I don't know. All the numbers are mixed up."
"Numbers? Kid? You never mix up numbers," the tone was friendly and caring. And worried. There was even more background noise.
"I'm sorry." Peter sighed again. He couldn't get anything right. Now he'd mixed up everything. And he was bothering Tony again. Oh. Tony. Right.
"Mr. Stark!" Peter said in surprise, finally realizing who he was talking to.
"Yeah, kid, that's me. The one and only. Stay where you are, I'll be right there."
"Huh?"
Peter's hand began to drop and with it his phone. He closed his eyes to avoid the bypassing shadows. He listened to the few cars driving along the street and the wind pushing and pressing through the narrow blocks and alleys of Queens.
Why was everything so cold and confusing?
Why?
—
2:34 AM
A small stripe of city light made its way through a crack between curtain and wall, illuminating the room only so slightly. It was silent aside of a strange dripping sound that woke Tony from his restless slumber. He groaned and sat up, burying his face in his hands. He was tired. With Pepper in Tokyo, leaving him in charge of a grand charity-event this evening, he'd had quite a stressful day and hadn't been able to excuse himself from the crowd until almost midnight.
He fumbled with his watch and immediately lay down again as he realized he'd only gotten two hours of sleep so far. But something had woken him and soon he heard the noise again. A soft dripping and splashing.
"What the hell— Fri?" A soft blue light flooded the room as his AI came to life.
"Yes, boss?"
"There's a strange noise, is Point Break raiding the fridge again?"
"Negative, boss. None of the other Avengers are currently present."
"Okay, but what's that sound?" Tony sat up again and shrugged the blanket away.
"I got a reading from the connected hallway. It seems like a small leak in one of the water pipes is causing the commotion."
The billionaire rolled his eyes. Really? He'd spent an absurd amount of money on the tower just to be woken up by a plumbing issue?
He rose groggily, put on some jogging pants and grabbed the room's waste bin before exiting into the hallway where he located a small puddle of water in the middle of the passage. He dropped the bin and kicked it under the dripping ceiling, asking Friday to alert someone to fix the pipe right away in the morning.
Really? That was just what he had needed to complete his already wrecked day.
He cursed silently, now too awake to go back to sleep again, but still too tired to do something productive. He dropped onto the couch in the common room, starting to scroll mindlessly through his phone.
His thoughts drifted from the event to Pepper to the dripping ceiling to Thor and his midnight snacks (for god's sake) and back again. The silence in the Tower was unnerving and he couldn't find any rest. It was rare that no one of the Avengers was around on a Friday night. Most of the time at least Bruce was occupying one of his labs or Peter would be bouncing around excitedly just to fall asleep first during movie night.
Peter. Right. The teenager had called Tony today just as the event was about to start. What was it that he wanted again? Tony couldn't remember, so he had Friday replay the short conversation.
He flinched at his sharp and stressed tone and on how he had pushed Peter away. There had been something why the boy had called him, but he had been so harsh that Peter had made up a reason to end the call. Dialed accidentally. Bullshit! Tony could see that now. But now was quite some hours too late. He swore to call him first thing in the morning.
Tony huffed silently. He felt bad for treating Peter in such a rude way. The boy really did something to him. It was a rare exception that Tony Stark got the urge to apologize. He let his head roll back, closing his eyes briefly. He really had to do better with the kid. His kid.
The sound of his phone ringing rose him from his nap with a jolt. He'd fallen asleep again. Still dazed, he fumbled with the device, recognizing the caller's ID. It was Peter. Tony sat up straight in an instant and picked up.
"Peter?"
He was greeted by a moment of silence, only hearing faint labored breathing.
"Oh, it's late," came the delayed reply. Tony's brow creased slightly at Peter's rough voice. He got up and slowly started pacing the room
"No shit, kid," he retorted, reaching for his tablet on the kitchen counter and logging into the kid's suit, an unsettling fear growing in his stomach.
It was never a good thing when Peter called late at night. That he could tell out of experience of endless nights of the kid getting injured or in some kind of danger during his patrols.
But he hadn't gotten any notifications from Karen that something had happened to the teen. Unless his intern had messed with the code and the protocols again. Tony's eyes narrowed.
"Why are you calling in the middle of the night, kiddo? Friday says you aren't in the suit, if you tell me you've hacked into my tech again and disabled—"
"There is something missing," Peter interrupted him.
Eh?
Tony looked up from the tablet, irritated.
"Come again?"
"There is something missing. Something is off and I don't know what it is." The kid sounded like on the verge of tears, desperate. Tony's stomach cramped and he moved away from the counter and started pacing again, his free hand already hovering over his chest, ready to deploy the nano-particles of his suit.
There was a sigh from the teenager followed by a hacking …cough? Shit, what was going on? Tony flicked his hand to open the door to the tower's terrace.
"Peter? Are you alright, kid? Where are you?" A few taps on his watch and he had Friday locating Peter's phone, not waiting for Peter's answer. A little red dot appeared in the middle of Queens, a few corners from the Parker's apartment.
"It hurts. And I dunno what's off." Another wave of concern and fear washed over Tony as he was encased by his suit.
"Underoos, what's happening? You don't make sense. You're hurt? I can't get any readings from Karen." There was no data at all from the Spider-Man suit. The display stayed empty. All Tony had was the location of the teen and his confused voice filling his helmet.
"I don't know. All the numbers are mixed up." Tony's frown grew deeper as he started off into the brisk night air, letting Friday do the navigation.
"Numbers? Kid? You never mix up numbers," he said softly but fearing the worst. Peter seemed disconcerted and lost. The most gruesome scenarios started to play in Tony's head.
"I'm sorry," mumbled Peter and Tony heard him sigh again, followed by more shaky breathing. Then there was a sudden jolt in his voice.
"Mr. Stark!" As if he just had realized to whom he was talking to. The concern made Tony slightly nauseous. He took a look on the map and his ETA.
"Yeah, kid, that's me. The one and only. Stay where you are, I'll be right there."
He heard a questioning noise from Peter, followed by disturbing silence.
The next two minutes felt like an eternity. Tony tried again and again to get any reaction from the kid, but the line stayed silent.
As Peter's location came into view, he spotted the teenager on the edge of the sidewalk of an almost empty street. He felt his heart sink on the sight. The kid wasn't in his suit, but was wearing a thin jacket and beneath that…Iron Man pajama pants? Tony shook his head to focus as he landed directly on the street, not giving a damn.
"Peter!"
He exited his suit and was next to Peter in three large strides. He kneeled next to him, hands hovering over the small form, afraid of doing any more harm by touching.
"Pete!" No response. But he saw the kid's chest rising under the parka, and as he carefully placed two fingers on Peter's neck, he felt a steady but also quite fast pulse.
And there was heat. Tony flinched at the temperature that was radiating from Peter's body.
"Shit. Kid?" With caution, he put his hand on Peter's forehead, trailing down to his cheeks. He was burning with fever.
"Shit, shit, shit," Tony cursed, activating Friday in his watch to scan the teen for any kind of injuries he might be missing on the first glance.
"Negative, sir. But Mr. Parker's temperature is at 103.7 °F and requires immediate medical attention."
"Obviously," Tony mumbled, deep concern lining his eyes. That was the reason why Peter hadn't made sense during the call. He was delirious with fever.
Peter was still not responding, and situated on the cold concrete in the brisk wind his condition only got worse with every moment. He had to get the kid to the Tower, fast. He considered calling Happy, but even at night it was almost half an hour from Manhattan to Queens. On the other hand, flying in the cold autumn wind wasn't a good idea either.
Tony looked up, thinking rapidly, cradling Peter's head carefully in his lap. His gaze felt on some of the bystanders that had accumulated over time, drawn to the Iron Man suit like moths to the light. A young man in a thick woolen coat came into view.
"Hey, you! I'll buy your coat!"
—
Peter hadn't stirred as Tony had wrapped him up in the coat and had taken off in his suit, teenager secure in his arms, to reach the Tower. Tony was mid-flight as he asked Friday for updates on the whereabouts of Bruce and Helen.
"Dr. Cho is accompanying Black Widow's team on the current mission and is expected to be back on Sunday. Dr. Banner just boarded his flight back and will arrive at the Tower approximately at 8:00 AM," Friday stated, unsettling Tony even more.
"May Parker?"
"Currently in Florida, do you wish me to contact her?"
Florida? No way. Tony shook his head, just remembering his conversation with May two weeks ago where she'd announced her absence and had asked Tony to have an extra eye on Peter who'd insisted on staying home alone. With all of the event stuff going on, Tony had totally forgotten. And Peter had even tried contacting him. Who knew for how long he had already been sick, trying to handle it himself.
"Possible too long," Tony murmured, knowing the bad self-preservation skills of the teen currently cradled against his chest.
"Sir?" Friday was still waiting for an answer.
"No, don't call her, I'll do it myself later. What about Harry Potter senior?"
"Dr. Strange is currently in Kathmandu," Friday provided.
"Seriously? Is any of the team around at all?" He already knew the answer as he landed on the Tower's terrace, but Friday answered nonetheless.
"Negative, sir. Shall I alert the Tower's regular medical team?" Tony considered it as he carried Peter inside, laying the kid carefully on the couch.
"Have them on standby, Fri."
"Got it, sir."
Tony exited his suit, the nano-particles rushing over his body in a smooth wave. Peter was slightly stirring and restless.
"What's his temperature now?" Tony asked as he carefully removed Peter's shoes and nestled with the coat and his jacket.
"Still sitting at 103.7 °F."
The weight in Tony's stomach became more prominent again. He was out of his usual waters here. Caring for a sick teenager was nothing that commonly appeared on his daily agenda. Especially not dealing with such a high fever.
"Any suggestions," he asked into the silence, gently removing a few damp locks from Peter's face.
"Fever-reducers, water and cold compresses are the common first approaches to help with high fevers," Friday chimed.
Tony bit his tongue. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. He could've figured that out himself, but fear and concern clouded his mind. And there was something even bigger lingering on the edge of his consciousness that felt awfully like guilt.
"Kid?" He tried, but Peter was still out cold.
"Kid, please, you're scaring me." Still no reaction. The teen's face was painted with anguish.
"Shit." Tony carefully lifted the shivering boy from the couch and carried him into Peter's room and placed him on the kingsize bed.
"I'll be right back," he said more to himself than Peter and rushed down to the med-bay, fetching Peter's painkillers. On his way back, he grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen and a fresh towel from the bathroom and ran it under cold water before returning to Peter.
"Fri? Lights at twenty percent, please." The room was flooded in warm light and Tony sat on the edge of the bed, arranging the blanket over Peter and the wet towel on his forehead, as the teen finally opened his eyes.
"M'. S'rk?"
"Yeah, kiddo, I'm here. How are you feeling?" There was a pause in which Peter just blankly watched him, blinking slowly with fever glazed eyes.
"Hurts," he mumbled, closing his eyes again. Tony was afraid he'd fall asleep again. He placed a soft hand on Peter's leg and shook it slightly.
"Hey kid, stay with me for a moment. You need to take some medicine. Think you can do that for me?" Peter groaned but opened his eyes again.
"'M tired."
"I know, Pete. Just take those and then you can go back to sleep." He helped Peter to sit up and handed him the water bottle and dropped two pills in his other hand. Peter took the medicine and fell directly back into the pillows.
Tony sat on the bed, relived a little that he'd gotten at least the pills and a tiny amount of water into the teen. He'd just asked Friday to monitor his temperature as Peter spoke softly again.
"Mr. St'rk?" Tony raised his eyebrows, he'd thought the boy was already asleep.
"Pete? Everything alright?"
"I think I found it." Leaving Tony confused.
"Found what, kid?"
"Dunno. Jus' feels ok now. Not missin' anymore. Feels alrigh'." At this point, Tony remembered their phone call and the kid messing about something missing and feeling off. Maybe it was still the fever talking. Maybe.
"That's good, Underoos. Now go to sleep."
"Will be here…?"
"Of course, I'll be here when you wake up. I won't go anywhere."
"And need fix the num'ers," Peter mumbled, which sent a tiny smile onto Tony's lips as he fondled with Peter's hair to help him going back to sleep.
"We'll fix the numbers. Sure thing, kiddo. We'll do it together when you feel better."
Tony climbed fully onto the bed and sat next to Peter. Thinking about what else he was going to fix, letting all the guilt and concern rush through him. He'd fix his way of handling his responsibilities. He'd watch better over the teenager. He'd never let something like today happen again. He'd watch out for his kid. Never turning him down again. Never making him feel like something was missing again.
Never.
—
8:04 AM
Bruce Banner had just entered the elevator to the Avenger's quarters as Friday already started to fill him in on the events of last night. He changed his plans of returning to his room and asked the AI to get him up to the main floor. Leaving his luggage in the elevator, he strode through the spacious common room into the attached corridor where Tony's and Pepper's suite and Peter's room were located.
"Tony? Peter?" He whispered as he carefully pushed the door to the young superhero's room open. The lights were dimmed, but he could make out Tony's form on the bed and Peter cradled against his side.
As silently as possible, Bruce made his way to the bed, carefully placing a hand on Peter's forehead. It was still warm, but nothing too worrisome. Peter stirred at the touch.
"Shh, it's ok. Go back to sleep, Peter," Bruce said in a low voice and Peter just turned around, snuggling closer to his mentor who was fast asleep.
Bruce covered them both with the blanket and left the room as quietly as he'd entered it, smiling.
—
Fin