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When Tony opens his eyes in the morning to the sound of rain tapping against the window, he groans softly, then rolls onto his back, scrubbing one hand over his face while he stretches his other arm up above his head. Stormy weather always makes getting out of bed seem more difficult, even more so when it’s a Monday, and Tony feels far more tired than he’s used to. He can hear Pepper in the shower, but no running water coming from the opposite side where Peter’s room is located, and he smiles to himself as he thinks about how Peter hates rainy mornings even more than he does.
“Good morning, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he says out loud, resting his hands on his chest. “What do you have for me today?”
“ Good morning, Boss. The date is Monday, October 16, 2017 and the time is 6:09 AM. There are no major economic or political events to report. You have three meetings scheduled for the day. Would you like to hear the weather forecast? ”
“Yes, please.”
“ It is raining, with thunderstorms expected in the afternoon. The temperature is currently 64 degrees Fahrenheit, with a high of 66 degrees and a low of 61 degrees. ”
“Thanks. Anything else I should be aware of?”
“ Yes, Boss. Peter is currently running a slight fever. ”
“A fev– Jesus , F.R.I.D.A.Y., you gotta start with that next time!” Tony throws the covers back and jumps out of bed.
“ Noted. Would you like me to add Peter’s vitals scan to your daily report? ”
Tony ignores his A.I.’s question, grumbling under his breath as he makes his way to Peter’s room. “She wants to tell me about fucking thunderstorms when Peter is running a fever. Is it really so much to…” He trails off as he approaches Peter’s door, not wanting to wake Peter if he is still sleeping.
He turns the doorknob slowly, squinting into the dark room until his eyes adjust and he can make out Peter’s sleeping form on the bed. Peter is dead to the world, snoring softly, and he doesn’t even stir as Tony crosses the room. His face is flushed, mouth slightly open, and the blanket is pulled all the way up to his chin, wrapped tightly around his shoulders.
Tony tugs up his right sleeve and presses the back of his hand gently against Peter’s forehead, sighing sadly at the heat radiating off of him. He flips his hand over, sliding the inside of his wrist along his temple to the side of his face where Peter’s skin feels somehow even warmer. At the touch, a small whimper rises in Peter’s throat, and though he doesn’t move, his breath catches just slightly, air fluttering past his lips in a little puff against Tony’s arm when he exhales.
“Slight fever, huh?” Tony whispers. He pulls his arm away and frowns. “He’s burning up.” Glaring up at the ceiling, he says in a slightly louder whisper, “FRI? Cancel Peter’s alarm, please, and send a text to May to let her know that Peter will be staying home from school today. Quietly, please.”
“ I have canceled Peter’s 6:30 AM alarm and sent a mobile message to May Parker; would you like me to do anything else? ”
“Nope,” Tony murmurs, thankful for F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s hushed response. He looks back down at Peter, reaching down to brush his hair out of his eyes before leaning down to give him a kiss on the forehead.
–- 🕷 –- –- 🕷 –- –- 🕷 –-
“Damn, it’s really coming down hard out there,” Tony notes after breakfast, gazing out the window at the heavy rain. He sighs, turning back to the dishes in the sink. “Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Can I get an update?”
“ Winds have increased to 60 miles per hour, while the temperature has dropped one degree. Rain is expected for the next six hours, while the approaching thunderstorm will arrive in the next hour. ”
Tony blinks up at the ceiling, mouth dropping open with an incredulous squawk. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. Elizabeth Stark!!”
“ Yes, Boss? ”
“An update on Peter .”
“ Of course, Boss. Peter’s temperature is rising, and is currently at 102.9 degrees Fahrenheit. ”
Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep, slow breath. He walks to the coffee pot, pours himself a half of a mug of coffee, then gulps it all down in one go before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and heading to the elevator. He makes a detour to the med bay to grab a thermometer, not quite trusting F.R.I.D.A.Y. at the moment, and then heads back up to the living quarters and down the hall to Peter’s room.
When he opens the door to the bedroom, he sees the dark outline of Peter sitting up in bed, and he pushes the door open all the way to let the light from the hallway illuminate him. Peter squints at him, eyebrows knit together in confusion. Tony bites his lip in an attempt to not smile at how completely and adorably disheveled he looks, with his hair sticking up in all directions and a deep line across his cheek where it had been pressed against the seam of his sleeve. His face is flushed an even deeper red from the fever, and there are dark circles under his eyes.
“Hey, Roos,” Tony says, keeping his voice soft. “How are you feeling?”
Peter swallows twice, then clears his throat. “F.R.I.D.A.Y said you gave her a middle name?” He questions hoarsely, and Tony rolls his eyes.
“Ignore her, she’s not having her best day today.”
Peter untangles his arm from his comforter and reaches up to rub one eye with his fist. “Am I going to be late for school?”
Tony raises one eyebrow. “Not exactly. Sounds like you’re not having your best day either, huh?”
“I might be a teeny tiny bit sick, but,” Peter shrugs, which looks suspiciously like he’s covering up a shiver. His lips press into a tight line. “It’s fine. I can go to school.”
“Yeah, and F.R.I.D.A.Y. said you had a ‘slight fever’, but here we are,” Tony replies, holding up the thermometer. “Open up.” Peter hesitates, but after a moment he opens his mouth so Tony can slide the thermometer under his tongue. He waits for it to beep, then pulls it back out and checks the number with a sigh. “FRI was right about the fever, though. 102.9.”
Upon hearing the number, Peter slumps back against his pillows, giving up on any attempt at appearing well enough to go to school. He closes his eyes and lets himself melt into his bed, pulling his arms in close after a shiver runs up his spine. A few seconds later, a loud, thunderous boom reverberates throughout the room, and Peter shoots up and out of bed, knees bending like he’s about to jump onto the ceiling.
“Woah, okay,” Tony says, reaching out to place his hand carefully on Peter’s shoulder and frowning when he feels the heat emanating from his body.
“ Whatwasthat ?” Peter asks, eyes wide, his voice raw as he holds his hands over his ears. He gulps, and when Tony gently squeezes his shoulder he lowers his hands, chin wobbling.
“ That was thunder. Heavy rain is expected to last for thirty more minutes, and thunderstorms will continue to produce strong gusts of wind ,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chirps, and Tony throws his hands up in frustration.
“When the hell did you become a weather reporter?!” He groans.
Peter blinks, his eyelids heavy, and then he’s laughing, the sound raspy and weak and slightly delirious, and soon Tony joins him, but he stops short when he sees Peter start to sway back and forth.
“Okay, you. Back in bed.”
Peter doesn’t protest, simply lets Tony help him climb back under the covers. He looks up at Tony with glassy eyes as he tucks him in, and Tony feels his heart clench with sympathy and affection at the absolute trust he sees in Peter’s miserable gaze.
Peter shivers, then rolls over onto his stomach, his head facing the wall. His breathing grows heavy and Tony can tell by the way his shoulders move up and down that he’s already drifting off. Another rumble of thunder sounds in the distance, but Peter doesn’t react, already nearly back asleep. Tony smiles, then leans down to kiss the top of his head, adjusting the comforter to fully cover Peter’s shoulders before he leaves the room, and he closes the door behind him with a soft click.