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If May hadn’t been at a work conference, Peter might have considered calling her. But rather than worry her, he decided to deal with his current predicament on his own. It was fine. Everything was totally fine. Or at least he thought it was for a while, but as time passed he wasn’t so sure. He’d been sitting on the bathroom floor for several hours with his head hanging over the toilet and the water he’d been drinking wouldn’t stay down. Although it did prevent his stomach from trying to turn itself inside out every time he heaved. After throwing up again, he decided he really needed some assistance.
Once he wiped his chin and rinsed his mouth, Peter leaned back on the bathtub and closed his eyes. He was hot and cold at the same time, and so exhausted that he was certain he could fall asleep where he was. He had to force himself to stay awake to thumb through his contacts. He was still hesitant to contact May, and he wasn’t sure Ned would be of much help. He considered dialing MJ until his eyes focused on the tiny clock on the corner of the screen. It was after one in the morning. He’d been sick for significantly longer than he’d thought.
Peter scrolled down until he came across the number of the only person he knew that was likely to be up at such an hour. He tapped the contact and held the phone up to his ear. It rang four times before going to voicemail. After double checking that he’d dialed the correct number he tried again only to receive identical results. On his third attempt, Tony finally picked up.
“Hey, Kiddo. It’s late for you isn’t it?” Tony greeted.
Peter opened his mouth to answer but before he could, he noticed the sound of soft music and clinking glasses coming from Tony’s end of the call. “You’re not at home?” he asked, his eyes misting over with disappointment. A small part of him had been hoping Tony would insist upon coming over to take care of him.
“I’m at a wedding in Vancouver. Are you okay?” Tony asked.
“I just had a quick question, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied, feeling slightly guilty for interrupting the reception.
“Sure,” Tony agreed.
For a moment, Peter hesitated while over-tired brain tried to come up with the right words. “How long can a person throw up before it’s dangerous?” he asked, pausing to lick his parched lips. "Like, how many times do you think?”
The line was silent for several seconds. “Are you working on some sort of science class, biology research paper thing?” Tony asked, followed by a slightly more worried, “Please tell me this is a research paper thing.”
Before Peter could answer, his stomach lurched and he was forced to release the phone in favor of lunging towards the toilet. Hardly anything came up but the effort had tears streaming down his cheeks. When he got back to the phone, he groaned a quiet apology.
“How long have you been throwing up, Buddy?” Tony asked softly.
“Started after school,” Peter said, once he’d wiped his face clean.
“That’s not too bad,” Tony replied. Peter wanted to argue that it was, but he lacked the energy to do so. He simply remained quiet as his mentor continued to question him.
“Have you been staying hydrated?”
“I drink water, then I throw it right back up,” Peter said while glaring at the small paper cup he’d been filling and refilling all night.
“Is there anything else in the apartment? Juice? Clear soda? Gatorade?” Tony asked next and Peter had to think harder about that than he should have.
“I think there’s some fruit punch,” he waveringly decided. He’d not been in the refrigerator since breakfast but he was reasonably sure he’d seen some there.
“Alright, I want you to get some of that and add a little water to it so it’s not quite so sweet,” Tony calmly instructed. “You might have a better chance of keeping that down.”
Peter swallowed thickly and looked towards the hallway. The walk to the kitchen wasn’t far but at the moment it felt miles away. “I don’t want to get up, Mr. Stark,” he inadvertently whined.
“I know, Buddy and if I was there I’d be happy to go get it for you, but for the time being I’m gonna need you to work with me,” Tony replied with just enough encouragement that Peter was able to pull himself up off the floor.
After mixing the drink, Peter shuffled back to the bathroom and slid back down onto the floor. Tony stayed on the line whispering reassurances as he slowly sipped at the cup. When he was half way through it and hadn’t thrown up again, he felt his eyes starting to close and his phone starting to slip from his hand. He was startled awake when landed on the floor.
“Sorry. Fell asleep,” Peter mumbled while clumsily lowering himself the rest of the way to the floor.
“That's okay, where are you, Kiddo?” Tony asked out of what Peter assumed was curiosity.
“Hall bathroom,” he whispered and was surprised when what felt like mere minutes later, Tony appeared beside him. He would have thought he was dreaming had he not felt a cool hand pressing up against his forehead. “What are you doing here?” he languidly asked.
“I’m taking you to bed, Kiddo,” Tony softly replied and for the first time all day, Peter smiled.