Chapter Text
Tony knows something is off with Peter the second he walks into the lab, but he’s not quite able to place his finger on what. Not yet.
Peter looks tired, but that’s not unusual for either one of them these days. Tony watches him cross the room and set his bag down before taking a seat. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the slight look of discomfort that passes across Peter’s face - it’s gone in the next instant, and Tony almost doubts his suspicion.
Almost.
An hour and a half later, Tony still can’t quite name what’s wrong. Peter is his usual, chatty self, but he doesn’t move as much as he normally does. Doesn’t bounce around from spot to spot with endless energy. His shoulders aren’t relaxed and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
Still, Tony can’t quite tell, and it’s bugging the shit out of him. Maybe, he thinks, Peter will tell him what’s wrong. Maybe he’ll mention he’s not feeling well, or say he’s tired and wants to turn in early tonight. Maybe he’s just working up to it. Maybe-
“Oh, shit,” Peter mumbles suddenly, before he sucks in a breath and ducks down with a sneeze.
Tony’s on his feet and across the room in seconds. He reaches out to press the inside of his wrist to Peter’s forehead.
“You’re sick, I knew it. I knew something was- I knew it. Do you think it’s a cold again? FRI, run Peter’s vitals.”
He doesn’t even bother to listen to F.R.I.D.A.Y’s response, opting instead to cup the back of Peter’s neck in an attempt to gauge his temperature better. It doesn’t feel overly warm, just like his forehead hadn’t, and he frowns. He’s relieved, but still concerned. He’s trying to think of what kind of supplies Peter will need to treat a cold when Peter stands and takes a step back before he aims another sneeze into the crook of his arm, his head jerking down. He hisses in pain and wraps his other arm around his side.
“Okay,” Tony says slowly, closing the gap between them when Peter stays in place with one arm still pressed to his face and the other against his ribs like he’s trying to hold himself together. “Talk to me, Peter.”
Peter slowly lowers both arms with a grimace.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick? Hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Peter mutters. He takes a slow, shallow breath in and looks up at the ceiling. He waits for Tony to say something, but when he doesn’t he looks back over and swallows hard.
“I guess I…might be a little bruised,” Peter admits, shrugging a shoulder. It’s that half shrug that has Tony shaking his head- he knows Peter’s tells, knows when he’s not telling the truth- and crossing his arms.
“Bullshit,” he spits out, the worry making him sound angry. “You have super healing. Your bruises don’t last more than twelve hours. Wanna try again?”
There’s a moment of silence, and Peter drops his head down to study his shoes.
“Okay,” he replies softly. “Maybe…a few broken ribs?”
Tony sighs.
“And why didn't you want to tell me this?”
But Tony knows why. He knows how much Peter hates to show any sign of weakness. He knows he’s too damn similar to himself.
“Can I at least get you something for the pain? And don’t you dare try to tell me you’re not in pain right now,” Tony adds, pointing at Peter until he nods his head in compliance.
“And the sneezing?”
Peter’s eyes widen. He rubs the side of his nose and then drops his hand quickly when he sees Tony watching him carefully.
“I just had to sneeze, I guess. Really, I feel fine. Except for the…” he trails off and gestures toward his midsection. “I’m fine.”
Tony is not convinced, but he shakes his head and turns to exit the room. One symptom at a time.
“I’m grabbing you painkillers and an ice pack. Don’t move until I get back.”
Just as Tony’s about to round the corner, he hears a gasp and spins around, eyes narrowing. Peter is pinching his nose, his eyelashes fluttering. Tony sighs and waits.
“Shit-” Peter spits out before he loses the fight and sneezes into his hand, wincing. “Ow.” He looks down at his hand. “Ugh.”
“Go wash your hands. And then don’t move until I get back.”
Later, on the couch, Peter holds an ice pack to his ribs and Tony makes a mental note to thank Bruce for the extra-strength, spider-DNA-approved painkillers that finally have the younger man relaxing.
“Thank you,” Peter says, and Tony bites back the urge to ask him to rate his pain for the third time in thirty minutes.
He nods and grabs the remote instead, then settles onto the couch next to Peter and tries to relax too. He’s still on high alert, but he’s satisfied enough with the current situation to turn his attention to the TV.
Peter shifts a little, biting down hard on his lip to stifle a groan. He adjusts the ice pack with a wince and then rubs his eyes. Tony knows he’ll fall asleep halfway through the movie like he usually does, but he still lets Peter pick out what he wants to watch anyway.
Sure enough, Peter is out before Rey finds Luke’s lightsaber, and Tony can’t help but smile. He knows the kid too well.