Work Text:
Consciousness trickles back to Peter as he slowly wakes up, curling in on himself when he feels how cold his bed sheets are underneath him. He lets out a weak, annoyed groan as he tries to fall back into the peaceful and warm, darkness of sleep.
Unfortunately, his body does the exact opposite and starts to come more online, along with a horrible, light throbbing in his head, as well as a pain in his throat. Laying on the bed like this, he can feel how heavy and sore his limbs are.
He feels achy and yucky, to put it simply.
And Peter unfortunately knows this feeling all too well by now. He’s been feeling exhausted and sluggish these past few days and these symptoms popping up now can only mean one thing.
He’s sick.
Peter lets out another weak groan into his pillow at the realization, squeezing his eyes shut.
He can’t be sick.
He just can’t.
Not now—not today of all days.
It’s Christmas Eve and so much is planned for this weekend. They’re supposed to take a trip into the city today to look at all the decorations, ice-skate at Rockefeller Center, see the big, beautiful Christmas tree, drink hot chocolate, and then wrap the day up with going out to dinner at one of Tony and Pepper’s favorite restaurants, probably one that’s on the fancy side.
There’s just too much to do for Peter to be sick and the last thing he wants is to ruin the day for everyone—especially Morgan—all because of a little cold or… whatever this is.
Peter slowly forces himself to roll onto his back and opens his eyes, squinting against the sunlight shining through his window, lighting up his room at the Stark cabin. A particularly sharp throb radiates from behind his eyes, causing him to close them again with a long sigh.
He feels like absolute crap and the only thing he wants to do is stay in bed the whole day and sleep this off.
But… he can’t do that unfortunately.
A sudden knock comes from his door before it opens and Tony steps in, smiling. He’s wearing the ugly Christmas sweater Pepper, Morgan and Peter gave him last year. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. We thought you were going to sleep the whole day away.” He says with a grin.
Peter forces a small smile on his face as he slowly pushes himself up in to a sitting position, wincing as all of the muscles in his arms and back aggressively protest against the movement. “Sorry.” He apologizes guiltily, his eyes widening in surprise at how hoarse his voice comes out.
Tony’s brows raise in surprise as well before they pull into a worried frown. “You okay?” He asks as he steps in the room.
Peter clears his throat, nodding. “Yeah, just didn’t drink enough water last night, I guess.” He lies, his voice still coming out hoarse.
Tony isn’t convinced as he takes a few steps over to the bed and studies Peter with concerned eyes, placing the back of his hand on Peter’s forehead. “You feel a little warm…”
Panic seizes Peter at that as his sluggish mind scrambles for an excuse. “I-I just woke up. Everyone runs on the warmer side when they first wake up in the morning.”
Tony tilts his mouth to the side as he lowers his hand, still frowning worriedly. “You sure you feel okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Peter tells him with what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
Tony hesitates for a moment before he seems to let it go as a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth once again. “When you’re ready, come downstairs for some breakfast, okay? Pepper made her famous French toast. Morgan is already downstairs. We have a pretty jam-packed day today and you need to make sure you eat, especially with us going ice skating.” He says as he heads back to the door.
Peter manages to smile at that. Tony’s always asking him if he ate, if he’s drinking enough water, sleeping good, and things like that. That’s the Dad in him. And Peter appreciates it a lot.
“Okay. I’m just going to take a quick shower first.”
“Sure. I’ll try to save you some, but no promises your sister won’t eat them all.” Tony jokes, shooting Peter a smile over his shoulder before he closes the door behind himself.
Peter waits for a moment, hearing Tony’s footsteps head down the hallway and down the stairs. When they’re out of earshot, Peter lets out a sigh and he lets himself fall back against the mattress, letting out a weak groan.
…
The shower does nothing to help him feel better or take the ache out of his muscles. Once his hair is half-dried and he’s all dressed for the day, in his NYU sweatshirt and jeans, Peter leaves the bathroom and heads downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.
Pepper and Tony are standing in the kitchen, washing dishes while Morgan is sitting at the center island, happily munching away at the French toast on the plate in front of her.
The mere sight of food causes Peter’s stomach to uncomfortably churn.
“Morning, Petey!” Morgan exclaims excitedly, seeing him walk in, grinning ear to ear at him.
Peter manages a smile at that. “Morning, M.” He says, his voice still coming out a little raspy, causing him to wince at the sound of it.
Pepper turns around from the sink, her brows pull together in worry. “Your voice doesn’t sound so good, honey.”
Peter clears his throat, nervously smiling as Tony looks at him with worry as well. “I didn’t drink enough water before bed.” He says, repeating what he said to Tony in hopes to avoid any more suspicion from him.
“Make sure you grab some orange juice to build up more fluids.” She tells him in her motherly voice with a small smile as she goes back to the dishes before her and Tony, who just looks at him uncertainly for a moment before he goes back to drying the plate in his hands.
Peter resists the urge to let out a relieved sigh as he walks over the coffee machine, grabbing a cup from he cabinet above, pouring the steaming hot drink inside from the pot.
The only way he’s going to be able to get through today is with coffee… a lot of coffee.
And despite how unappetizing the idea of food is, he grabs two pieces of French toast to avoid any more suspicion and he knows he has to eat with his metabolism or else he’ll wind up fainting on the ice rink today—and that’s the last thing he needs right now.
He just has to get through today.
Tomorrow, he can go back up to his room and go back to sleep after they exchange and open their gifts.
Peter brings his mug and plate back to the center island and takes a seat, holding his mug with both hands, appreciating the warmth from the steaming coffee inside. The coffee warms his insides as he takes a few careful sips, feeling the warmth of it soothe his throat a little, taking some of the edge off the pain.
He unknowingly tunes everyone out as he sits there in a bit of a tired daze, forcing himself to eat his breakfast. Peter snaps out of it when Pepper suddenly walks around the counter and takes Morgan’s empty plate from her.
“Why don’t we all get ready to go in half an hour so we can beat some of the afternoon traffic into the city? May and Happy are going to meet us at Rockefeller Center at twelve.” Pepper says, looking over her shoulder at Tony and Peter with a smile as she helps Morgan down from the barstool she’s sitting in at the center island.
“Sounds like a plan.” Tony says, finishing drying a frying pan in his hands with a dishtowel.
Pepper gives him a light, stern look.
“We will, I promise.” Tony tells her with a smile.
Pepper drops the look she’s giving him with a smile of her own before she turns around, heading upstairs with Morgan to help her get ready, leaving Peter and Tony alone in the kitchen.
Tony turns to Peter with a smile as he puts the frying pan away in the cabinet by the sink. “So, I was thinking… you know how Morgan’s been talking about Santa since last month? And I can tell you she’s going to be too excited to go to bed tonight, so… how about we go up on the roof when she’s in bed and jingle a few bells outside of her window, letting her think it’s Santa?” He asks with a smile.
Peter raises an eyebrow at him. “That didn’t work out so great the last time remember? It ended with me falling off the roof.”
“And you didn’t even wind up becoming Santa Clause.” Tony says with a teasing grin.
Peter gives him a flat look in response, only to earn a chuckle from Tony.
“Okay, sorry. Not a situation to reference a movie to. That wasn’t good. When you fell, I thought Happy was going to have a heart attack he was so worried about you. Heck, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Your life flashed in front of my eyes.”
Peter lets out a sigh. “Yeah… not my best moment but at least Morgan bought it.”
A small, fond smile pulls at the corners of Tony’s mouth as he nods. “She did. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends at school about Santa stopping at her house. But for you and your back’s safety… we should come up with anther idea.”
They’re both silent for a few moments until a smile finds it’s way to Peter’s face as he looks at Tony. “I think I have an idea... but we’re going to need Happy’s help with it.”
Tony raises a brow, his lips spreading into a smile as well. “What do you have in mind?”
…
Exactly thirty minutes later, Peter finds himself stepping out of the house and onto the front porch behind Tony, feeling a gust of freezing cold air rush past him, causing a shiver to race through him. He grits his teeth together as he shoves his hands in his coat pockets, following behind Tony towards the car.
“Wow is it nippy out,” Tony says as he gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, turning the heat on full blast so Pepper and Morgan will come out to a warm car. “I’m glad I installed that heater in Gerald’s shed this a few months ago.”
“Y-Yeah, I k-know.” Peter stutters out through chattering teeth once he’s sitting in the backseat behind the driver’s seat, trying to control it as best as he can.
A few moments pass by before heat fills the car and Peter closes his eyes and rests his head back against his seat’s headrest, relieved, although he’s still shivering, just not as severe thankfully. He lifts his head up and opens his eyes when he hears the front porch door open and close, followed by footsteps coming down the porch steps. Tony gets out of the car and goes around, opening the passenger side door next to Peter to help Morgan inside.
“I got her, get in the car and warm up, honey.” Tony tells Pepper with a warm smile as he leans over and kisses her.
They break away a few seconds later and Pepper gets in the front passenger seat as Tony picks Morgan up and helps buckle her up in her carseat. Peter can feel his shivering pick up again, tightly gritting his teeth to prevent them from chattering as cold air fills in the car, uncomfortably mixing with the warm air pouring out of the vents.
“We all set, Monguna? Nothing’s too tight, right?” Tony asks.
Morgan shakes her head, smiling. “Nope!”
Tony’s smile widens as he reaches over and kisses her head and shoots a smile Peter’s way before closing the door, the frigid outside air disappearing for the moment. Tony gets back in the drivers seat and fastens his seatbelt before putting the car in drive.
“And we’re off to the Big Apple.” He says, earning a giggle from Morgan.
As the car rolls along the gravel driveway, pulling away from the house, Morgan looks out her window and waves. “Bye, Gerald!” She calls out, waving at the alpaca, who is standing in his heated shed with his head sticking out of the window next to the wooden door. “Do you think he’s going to be sad we’re leaving him on Christmas Eve?” She asks, dropping her hand with a frown as she looks to the back of Tony’s head.
“I don’t think he will,” Tony tells her. “Besides, he’s looking forward to getting his new blanket to keep him warm and a whole bunch of carrots tomorrow. And you never know, Santa might throw in something nice for him too.”
“I hope so!” Morgan excitedly says, her frown disappearing from her face, being replaced by a bright smile.
The car rolls to a stop at the end of the driveway and Tony looks both ways before he takes a left on their street, increasing in speed slightly as they go down the long road. A comfortable silence fills the car, save for the classical Christmas music softly playing on the radio. Peter leans into his door and rests his head against the cold class window, hoping it’ll ease his headache a little.
I should have snuck one of my pain meds before we left the house. Peter thinks to himself, closing his eyes.
He’s so tired, he never even thought to grab one, which was very stupid on his part. Now he’s going to suffer the consequences if his symptoms don’t go away or get any worse, which he really hopes won’t be the case.
He just needs to get through today at least and then his body can go into sick mode, which again, hopefully it doesn’t but with how shitty he’s feeling now and with his luck… it probably will.
…
A gentle hand shaking his shoulder causing Peter to stir from his deep slumber, not quite waking up yet. The hand shakes him again and this time it’s enough for Peter to slowly open his eyes, finding himself to be slumped on the door with his cheek smushed against the window.
“Pete? You okay, kiddo?” Tony’s voice comes from his side.
Peter slowly lifts his head from the window, wincing as his neck painfully protests against the movement from the position he had it in. He turns his head, surprised to find Tony leaning over Morgan’s empty car seat. Peter frowns as he looks out his window, even more surprised to see that they’re surrounded by skyscrapers and the loud, busy streets of Manhattan.
“Are you ok? You slept the entire way.” Tony tells him, causing Peter to look back at him to see the concerned expression on his face.
Peter’s brows raise slightly in surprise at that. “I did?” He rasps out, trying to hide his wince as he swallows, feeling like he just swallowed shards of glass.
“You did.”
“Wow…” Peter pauses as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Guess I was tired… sorry.” He says as he drops his hand to his lap, unbuckling his seat belt.
Tony’s still looking at him with the same concerned expression on his face. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? It’s not like you to conk out like that for two hours in a car. I think you passed out before we even left the house.”
“Yeah, I’m all good, just super tired.” Peter says with a weak smile.
Tony looks at him for a few seconds before he lets out a sigh. “I hope so,” he says, unconvinced. “But if you don’t feel good, I hope you would tell me. I don’t want you to go out in the cold if you—“
“I’m all good, Tony, I swear.” Peter tells him in hopes to reassure him.
Tony lets out another sigh before he nods. “Alright. Why don’t we walk down to the ice rink? Pepper and Morgan already headed down to meet up with your aunt and Happy.”
Peter silently nods as he opens his door and gets out, stretching his back for a second before a gold burst of wind blows past him, causing his teeth to chatter, feeling goosebumps raise on his arms. He walks around the back of the car and meets up with Tony before they start walking on the sidewalk, Rockefeller Center in their sights a little ways up. With how crowded the city is this time of year, they’re lucky they even managed to find a parking spot and it’s thankfully not too far, a five minute walk at least.
When they reach the center, they walk down the steps leading down the the rink and Peter can see Happy, May, Pepper, and Morgan standing around a bench from where they are.
“There they are.” Peter says, pointing over at them so Tony can spot them out.
“Good eye.” Tony says with a smile as they start to head over to them.
Happy turns his head, just in time to see them walking over, smiling when his eyes land on them. “Here they are,” he says to the group as Peter and Tony join them. Happy looks at Peter with an amused grin. “I hear you were out cold in the backseat so Pepper and Morgan had to get a head start while Tony woke you up?”
Peter lets out a sigh. “I wasn’t out cold-“
“I’d say you were. It took me a few tries waking you up.” Tony says in a mixed tone but Peter can’t tell if it’s amusement or concern.
“Well, you’ve been so busy with schoolwork lately and finals, you need your sleep, Peter.” May says as she walks over to him with a soft, loving smile as she wraps her arms around him in a hug.
Peter leans into her and closes his eyes, soaking in the warmth of her hug.
“I’ve missed you. A week is too long for me not to see my baby.” She tells him, squeezing him ever so tighter.
Peter feels warmth flow through his chest at that as a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know, sorry.” He rasps out.
May pulls back and looks at him with her brows pulled together. “You okay? Your voice sounds so hoarse, honey.”
Peter opens his mouth but Tony beats him to it.
“He’s been saying he’s fine all day but I’m not buying it.”
May’s frown deepens as she pulls her gloves off and places her hand on Peter’s forehead, then to his cheeks. “You do feel warm.”
“May, I’m fine.” Peter tells her, resisting the urge to whine in annoyance.
“He was a little warm this morning. I wasn’t sure if it was because he just woke up or not.” Tony tells her.
“Is he sick?” Happy asks in concern. “He shouldn’t be out in this weather, especially with how sensitive he is to the cold.”
“I know,” May agrees as she feels Peter’s face again with her palm now.
Peter lets out an annoyed sigh as he gently shakes her hand off. “Everyone, please get off my case. I already told you—I’m fine. Okay? We didn’t come all this way to worry about me. Let’s go skating and have fun. Morgan has been looking forward to skating and seeing the tree all week.” He says, probably a bit too much of a forceful tone.
May, Tony and Happy look at him with mixed expressions of worry.
May lets out a sigh, giving him her famous ‘serious mom face’ he’s known since he was five. “If you’re sure you’re okay, then fine. But you’re drinking some hot chocolate as soon as you get off the ice to warm up. Deal?”
A smile manages to pull at Peter’s mouth at that. “Deal.”
…
Peter has only been skating for nearly two hours now, and he’s deeply regretting it.
Heck, he’s regretting even coming along on the trip.
Scratch that—he’s regretting almost everything he’s ever done in life to get here at this point in time.
That’s a bit dramatic, but it’s true.
He felt crappy when they got into the city, but after all this time of being out on the ice rink and skating, being out here in this bitterly cold, he feels one hundred percent worse than he did earlier.
In the beginning, he started to feel a little warmer the more he moved around but now it doesn’t seem to be helping, not to mention how he’s lost what little energy he had left.
And to make matter’s worse, he’s starting to feel a little nauseous and he’s afraid his French toast breakfast is going to make a reappearance in the near future.
“Petey, let’s go faster.” Morgan tells him, a little annoyed as she tugs on his arm, holding his hand.
“Y-Yup, s-sorry,” He tells her, teeth chattering together.
He forces his feet to move faster underneath him, forcing his stiff, shaking legs to cooperate so he doesn’t lose his balance. The last thing he wants is to fall flat on his face in front of all these people on and around the rink. Morgan is only five and she’s skating better than he is right now.
A strong stab of pain comes from deep in his stomach, causing Peter to grit his teeth, curling in on himself slightly. He can feel sweat sticking to his back, despite how freezing he is.
He nervously licks his overly chapped lips. “Uh—M, w-why d-don’t we take a b-break and have s-some hot chocolate?”
“But I wanna keep skating.” Morgan whines, looking up at him with a pout.
“We can after—“ He’s cut off by another sharp pain, forcing his face to remain straight with her looking at him. “L-Let’s just warm up a little first.”
Morgan’s shoulders drop a little in disappointment as she lets out a small sigh. “Okay…”
Peter looks around them for Tony, Pepper, May and Happy as they head towards the ice rink exit, carefully stepping onto the mat once they’re off the ice. He spots them skating together on the opposite side the rink from them, seeing Happy and Tony laughing about something together.
His stomach viciously churns, feeling another sharp stab of pain. Warm saliva starts pooling in his mouth, much to Peter’s horror as his eyes scan around for a bathroom. But there aren’t any and he can’t just leave Morgan alone and he’s definitely not puking right here in front of hundreds--if not thousands of people.
Shit this isn’t good. He thinks, his brows pulling together.
“Uh, M-Morgan. D-Do you think you can get Dad for me?” He asks in a last ditch effort.
Morgan frowns as she looks up at him. “I thought we were getting hot chocolate?”
The thought of hot chocolate causes his stomach to violently churn more.
“Y-Yeah, we are in a minute. B-But can you get him for m-me p-please?” He says, leaning down a little more on her level, spotting Tony across from them, coming closer as they’re half-way through with their lap around the rink. He points to him, looking at Morgan. “Y-You see him there?”
Morgan looks in the direction of where he’s pointing before she spots Tony. “Yeah,” She nods as she looks back at him, her face suddenly serious like she can sense his inner turmoil. “I’ll go get him, Petey.” She tells him before she turns and carefully walks back to the rink.
“B-Be careful.” He tells her as he sits down on one of the benches.
He watches her gracefully glide back onto the ice and start to skate across the space, getting lost in the crowd of people. Despite his stomach churning away and the saliva continuing to slowly build in his mouth, he keeps his eyes trained on her until she reaches Tony, who bends down to her when she reaches him and Happy. May and Pepper must be on a hot chocolate run or they’re skating around the rink together.
A sharp stab of pain comes from Peter’s stomach, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut as he curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He holds his breath until it eases down, slowly letting the breath out through his mouth, watching his breath fog in the air. He keeps his eyes closed, trying to remain still despite how much he’s shivering so he doesn’t set his stomach off anymore than it is, swallowing the warm saliva in his mouth.
It feels like hours pass by but it’s only a few moments before he feels a hand on his shoulder.
“Pete? What’s wrong?” Tony’s concerned voice fills his ears. “Look at me, kiddo.”
Peter opens his eyes and raises his head, his arms still curled around his stomach, finding Tony bent down in front of him, looking at him with a worried expression.
He swallows again and licks his chapped lips, his brows pulling together as he tries to ignore his stomach churning aggressively again. “Y-You know how I s-said I was f-fine e-earlier?” He stutters out.
“Yeah.” Tony says with a nod brows pulling together tighter.
“I-I lied. A-And n-now…” Peter pauses, closing his eyes as the churning in his stomach increases. “I-I really d-don’t feel so great. I-I think I’m going to t-throw up.” He admits, opening his eyes back up and looking at Tony.
Tony nods as he looks away, probably searching for a bathroom or something he could upchuck into. “This place doesn’t have a bathroom for some unknown reason but don’t worry, I know where the nearest bathroom is. Let’s get out of these skates and into our shoes.” Tony says as he stands up and sits down next to Peter, quickly undoing his own laces.
Peter reaches down and tries to untie his own, but his hands are shaking so much and his fingers are so numb from the cold, he can’t get them to cooperate. He feels like such a pathetic, helpless baby right now. He’s absolutely terrible, ruining everyone’s Christmas by being a sick, cry baby. They’ll definitely be heading back home now, which means he just ruined the rest of their afternoon plans, as well as dinner at Tony and Pepper’s favorite restaurant.
I ruined Christmas. He thinks to himself as guilt flows through him.
Tony’s skates are off in a matter of moments and replaced by his sneakers and before Peter knows it, Tony is standing up and kneeling down in front of him.
“Here, let me help you, Pete.” Tony tells him as he takes the laces from his shaking hands.
Peter curls his arms around himself once again, a violent shiver racing through him. Tony takes his eyes off the laces for a moment to look at him in concern when he catches it before he looks back down, his fingers moving faster as he unties the skate. The skates are off thankfully in record time and Tony helps him back into his sneakers before he helps him to his feet, just in time as Happy and Morgan step off the ice.
Tony turns to Happy. “Pete and I are going to the car after we make a quick bathroom stop, do you think you could turn our skates in for us?”
“Sure.” Happy says in a serious voice with a nod.
“Thanks,” Tony says before he turns to Peter. “Let’s go, Pete.” He says, starting to walk towards the nearest row of cement stairs.
Peter follows close to Tony’s side as they head up the stairs, avoiding bumping into anyone on his way up with how crowded it is. Each step seems to send a new wave of nausea through him, causing Peter to tightly grit his teeth together, carefully breathing with his mouth firmly shut. When they reach the top of the stairs, Tony stops for a moment to look around.
“This way, Pete,” He says as they start quickly walking on the Rockefeller Center strip, walking past the Channel Garden displays. “There’s a restaurant here that I’ve been to—it should be open today.” He tells him over his shoulder.
They reach the restaurant and it’s thankfully open. Tony walks ahead of him and holds the door open for him as they both step inside. Peter bites his lip as saliva shoots up from his throat and into his mouth, followed by something warm crawling its way up his throat.
A young woman, probably around Peter’s age is standing at the desk as they walk in, her eyes widening in surprise when she recognizes Tony. She looks at Peter with confusion, probably wondering why he’s with the Tony Stark himself.
Her head snaps back to Tony. “Y-You’re—“
Tony politely smiles at her. “Can we use your restroom?”
She quickly nods. “O-Of course, Mr. Stark. It’s just over there.” She says, pointing at the bathroom doors across the large space.
“Thank you.” Tony says as heads towards the bathroom, followed by Peter, who rushes ahead of him.
Peter throws the men’s door open, and rushes into the stall at the end of the bathroom and drops to his knees over the toilet, just in time before he heaves, sending the contents of his stomach into the water below. He makes the mistake in opening his watery eyes, only to see remains of his breakfast in the toilet, only to have him gag, going for another round of puking.
It feels like forever until it stops, leaving him absolutely drained of all energy, shaking as he kneels on the cold, tiled floor. A hand suddenly is on his back, rubbing circles though his coat.
“Feeling a little better now?” Tony asks in a soft, concerned voice from behind.
Peter’s brows pull together as he lets out a shaky breath, shaking his head. Puking didn’t cure him of the rest of the symptoms he’s feeling. His throat feels like it’s on fire now and his head is throbbing away, feeling like his skull is about to pop.
“No?” Tony asks after a few moments when he doesn’t verbally answer. “What are you feeling, Pete?”
“M-My head n’ throat r’lly hurts…” He barely manages to get out with how hoarse his voice is.
Tony hums from behind. “I know Pepper has some of your pain meds in her bag. When we all meet up at the car, we’ll give you one to take the edge off until we get back home.”
Peter’s bows pull together as he looks up at him. “S-She has them?” He asks, confused.
Tony nods before he gives Peter a knowing look. “Pete, we both knew something was up with you their morning. We didn’t call you out on it because… as much as I hate to admit it… you’re not a kid anymore. You’re nineteen and we trust that you can handle almost anything that pops up. But clearly…” Tony pauses as he stands up and reaches over Peter, flushing the toilet, helping him sit back against the side of the bathroom stall. “…you’re not one hundred percent capable of doing that yet.” He tells him with a soft, knowing look.
Peter lets out a sigh as he rests his aching head against the stall wall, closing his eyes against the lighting. As much as he hates to admit it… Tony’s right. “I didn’t want to,” Peter stops to clear his throat as it breaks off at the end. “Ruin Christmas for everyone. Especially Morgan.” He finishes.
“You’re not ruining anything, kiddo. You can’t help it that you’re sick. These things happen. Like that one time Morgan caught strep throat last year on me and Pep’s anniversary. We had dinner plans but we cancelled them. And when you got hurt last year chopping pumpkins and needs Bruce to stitch your hand up, Pepper and I dropped everything at SI to come home. Why? Because you’re our kids and we love you. And now’s no different. So don’t tell yourself that you ruined Christmas. You didn’t. You just being here is a gift, kiddo.” Tony says, looking at him with a warm smile.
Peter manages a shaky smile at that, only for his face to drop when he feels warm saliva and something shoot up his throat. He lunges for the toilet, surprising Tony a little, only to once again stick his head in the toilet, throwing up more contents of his stomach.
…
When Peter finally manages to stop throwing up, he’s so exhausted all he wants to do is curl up on the bathroom floor.
Tony gets up and grabs a wet facecloth for him, needing to wipe Peter’s face for him with Peter being so out of it and drained.
“Come on, Pete, let’s get you to the car, bud.” Tony softly says as he stands up after flushing the toilet for him.
“Mmhhh… no walk’n…” Peter groans out.
“We’re not walking far, Happy pulled the car out front. We just have to walk out of here and the rest of the way up the sidewalk and then we’re at the car. Okay?”
Peter manages to open his eyes, confused at that. “How?”
“Happy told her and May what’s going on, so Pepper took Morgan and they’re waiting in Happy’s car with May. Happy will be driving us home and May will be following behind in Happy’s car with Pepper and Morgan. Morgan is a little sugared up right now, so we all figured it would be best if you had a nice, quiet ride back home with how you’re feeling.” Tony explains as he kneels down in front of him and takes off his scarf and drapes it around Peter’s neck, fixing it on him. “Do you think your stomach is empty?”
Peter blinks, his sluggish brain trying to keep up with everything. “Think so.” He rasps out.
“That’s good. Let’s get you standing, bud. Nice and slow, okay?”
Peter hums at the back of his sore throat as Tony helps him to his feet, blinking away the black spots that dance around his vision from the new position. He lets Tony lead him out of the stall and over to the sink to wash and dry his hands, which Peter thankfully manages to do on his own.
They head out of the bathroom and Peter is relieved that the woman from earlier isn’t standing at the front anymore. Tony pushes the restaurant’s front doors open for him, only to be met with a cold breeze from outside. Peter shivers as he dips his chin into Tony’s warm scarf, shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets as Tony wraps an arm around him, the two of them waking outside.
Peter winces and squeezes his eyes shut when he’s met with the sounds of the city, hearing car horns blaring, people yelling and laughing, a vendor yelling up the street, and a bunch of other things that cause the throbbing in his head to increase even more. He lets out a weak, pained groan at the back of his throat.
“We’re almost there, kiddo.” Tony tells him, pulling Peter closer to his side.
Peter opens his eyes again and looks ahead, immensely grateful when he sees a familiar black SUV parked up ahead along the sidewalk, able to see Happy in the drivers seat from here. It only takes them a few moments before they’re approaching the car and Happy gets out of the car when he sees them. They stop at the car as Happy walks around from the back and meets them, opening the backseat door.
Happy looks at Peter with his brows pulled tightly together in worry. “How’re you feeling, Pete?”
Peter makes a noise at the back of his throat, wincing at how it sounds like a scratched disk on a record player. “R-Really s-shitty.” He gets out through chattering teeth.
He just can’t seem to stop shivering—he’s so cold.
Happy looks at him with sympathy before he steps to the side of the car door. “Well lets get you in the car and warmed up.”
Peter gives a small, shaky nod as Tony leads him forward and helps him in the car before the door closes, feeling warm air blasting out of the car’s vents. He’s a little surprised as Tony opens the car door on the other side and gets in next to him, a burst of cold air blowing in the warm car before it’s gone. Happy quickly gets back in the drivers seat, holding his phone up to his ear.
“We’ll wait for you guys. Yeah… okay. I’ll tell him. Yeah….” Happy trails off, glancing in the rearview mirror at Peter before looking back out the windshield. “He’s holding up. You know how he is... okay. Love you too—and drive safe,” He says before taking the phone away from his ear, ending the call. He puts the phone in the cupholder before turning in his seat slightly to look at Peter. “That was May. Her, Pepper and Morgan got to the car now and they’ll be here in a minute. May wanted me to tell you that she loves you but she’s going to have another conversation about you hiding stuff from all of us when you’re home and feeling better.” He says, with a soft, knowing look.
Peter lets out a sigh and drops his head against his seat’s headrest.
“And I think I’ll be joining her on that conversation.” Tony chimes in beside him.
Peter rolls his head to the side and looks at him, squinting. “S-Stop it… you’re both being m-mean to me.”
Tony and Happy both lightly chuckle at that.
“We aren’t but, Pete… we’ve had this discussion about you hiding if you’re not feeling good or hurt from us so many times by now. It’s not good to hide this kind of stuff from us. We wouldn’t have made you come out here today to freeze your butt off and get worse. I’m sorry I didn’t pull the plug on this sooner.”
Peter sighs again as he closes his eyes, brows pulling together as another wave of guilt washes over him, both from ruining the day and from hiding the fact that he’s sick from everyone.
“Look... we’ll talk about this another time when you’re better. But for now, let’s get you comfy. It’s going to be a long ride back upstate,” Tony tells him in a soft voice. “Do you want your jacket off so you can be more comfortable?” He asks.
Peter wordlessly nods and opens his eyes again, starting to feel the effects of puking, skating for most of the afternoon, and feeling super shitty all day start to take a toll on him. Tony reaches over and unzips his jacket, helping him out of it and unraveling the scarf from his neck. Tony reaches into the third row seats and grabs the sherpa blanket they keep in here for occasions like this and drapes it over him. He then leans across Peter and grabs the lever on the side of his seat, bracing the back of Peter’s seat with his other hand as he lowers it all the way down. He folds his scarf up and carefully lifts Peter’s head up, sliding it under as a makeshift pillow.
“How’s that? Are you comfy?” Tony asks, looking down at him.
“Mhmm.” Peter hums as he closes his eyes, lifting his legs up from the floor and turning on his side, facing Tony.
Happy opens the center console upfront and takes something out before shutting it. “Here’s a plastic bag, just in case.” He says, handing the bag back to Tony.
“Thanks.” Tony says.
Laying down feels a lot better and his stomach is thankfully settled, at least for the now anyway. A few minutes pass by and Peter feels himself starting to doze off, barely shivering anymore with how warm he is with the sherpa blanket over him and the car’s heater turned up all the way.
“There’s May,” Happy announces, his voice sounding so far away as Peter’s consciousness starts to drift away from him. “I’m going to pull out and they’ll be right behind us.”
“We can take the expressway so we miss all of the holiday traffic. We just have to avoid Times Square.” Tony says from next to Peter.
“Good idea.”
Peter is barely aware of the hand that starts carding through his curls, only sending him further towards sleep with how soothing it feels.
He feels the car move from underneath him before he falls into a warm and peaceful darkness.
…
Peter’s eyes snap open when he feels his stomach violently churn, his vision blurry as he looks around him, only to look up to see an odd-looking tan ceiling above him. He can sense, wherever he is, he’s moving. A car? He squeezes his eyes shut with a groan as a sharp pain comes from deep within his stomach.
“Pete, you okay?” A familiar voice asks, followed by a warm hand on his arm.
He manages to open his eyes again and look up, only to see Tony above him.
That’s when his memories rush back to him. Waking up not feeling good, going to the city, throwing up in that nice restaurant’s bathroom, and then getting back in the car with Tony and Happy to head back home.
“Pete?” Tony repeats, brows pulled together in worry.
“Is he okay?” Happy asks worriedly from the driver’s seat.
Peter opens his mouth to answer, but what a mistake it is as a violent wave of nausea washes over Peter at that second, feeling something shoot up from the back of his throat. With a choked gag, Peter tries and struggles to sit up, only for Tony’s eyes to widen as he quickly grabs the plastic bag from earlier and shoves it under his chin, just in time before a rush of puke shoots inside.
“That’s it, kiddo. Just get it all out.” Tony says as he rubs Peter’s back, not even phased by his upchucking.
Thankfully, the round of puking doesn’t last long, still leaving Peter an exhausted, shaking mess as he pants into the bag with his eyes firmly shut. Something like this would be absolutely embarrassing, but he’s been through so much with Tony and Happy at this point in his life, so it’s not. He trusts the two of them with his life—more than that. But it doesn’t mean he’s not terribly guilty that he’s forcing them to be around him when he’s so… gross and pukey.
“Here, let him swish that out and keep him hydrated.” Happy says, handing Tony back a water bottle from out of nowhere.
“Thanks,” Tony says as he takes it before turning back to Peter, cracking open the bottle and handing it to him. “Think you’re done?” Tony gently asks.
Peter shakily nods as he takes the water and sips it, swishing it in his mouth before spitting it out in the bag. He takes a sip and swallows the cool water before he lies back down and curls his legs up to himself on the seat. “T-This sucks…” He rasps out.
“Yeah, I know it does,” Tony says as he wraps the soiled plastic bag in his hands. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I think you might have the flu, a bad enough case to knock Spidey down,” He says before reaching up with his free hand, feeling Peter’s forehead, then his cheek that’s not currently squished into the seat. Tony’s concerned frown deepens as he feels Peter’s forehand again. “I’m not liking how hot you’re running.”
“Should we change course and head to the Compound instead?” Happy asks from the front.
Tony hums in thought as he reaches to his wrist and takes off his watch, which Peter knows also doubles as a monitor for his vitals and temperature. He gently lifts one of Peter’s wrists and fixes it onto him before pulling out his phone. “Friday, what’s his temp at?” He asks, tapping a few things into his phone.
“101.2, boss. Fever reducers and fluids are highly recommended.” Friday’s voice comes out from the phone.
Peter sluggishly blinks up at Tony, watching the way his face slightly twists in thought. Honestly, at this point, he could care less where he is, just as long as he can just lie down and sleep this off. But being back at home at the cabin would be more homey and relaxing for sure.
“We’re about an hour and a half out from both the house and the Compound. Why don’t we see how he’s doing when we’re halfway there?” Happy suggests, glancing back at Tony in the rearview mirror.
Tony is silent for a few seconds before he lets out a sigh, nodding. “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” He says, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back down at Peter, reaching a hand out to brush a stray curl away from his forehead. “You let us know if you’ start to feel worse at any point, okay?”
Peter lets out a raspy sound at the back of his throat as he nods, closing his eyes again as he tucks his head against Tony’s soft scarf underneath his head.
The car falls into a peaceful silence as they continue driving upstate on the highway and Peter thankfully manages to doze back off to sleep, hoping he won’t be abruptly woken up again.
…
Consciousness flows back to him slowly, allowing him to feel how overly hot he is.
No.
He’s absolutely boiling.
But why?
Why is it so hot?
And why does he feel so… weird and tingly?
Peter manages to slowly open his eyes, struggling to do so with how heavy they feel as he sluggishly blinks and with how bright it is, his vision blurry around the edges as he takes in his surroundings, feeling his seat vibrating.
A car.
Ohhh that’s right.
He’s in the car with Tony and Happy, going back home.
Or to the Compound—whatever Tony decides.
But… why are they going to the Compound again?
Training?
Or an Avengers mission maybe?
Peter’s brows pull together as he lifts his head slightly, his cheek sliding up from where it’s been smushed against the leather car seat. He can feel sweat sticking to his back, making his hoodie feel uncomfortable. Peter blinks more, trying to clear his vision as he looks at Tony, who is looking at something on his phone, seemingly unaware that he’s awake. Peter’s brows pull together more as he frowns against the bright sun shining in through Tony’s window, hitting his eyes.
The sun.
That’s why he’s boiling away here.
“Wh’s the s’n ’s hot…” He slurs out, his voice sounding like he gargled nails.
Tony turns his head and looks down at him with a frown. “Is the sun bothering you?” He asks with a raised brow.
Peter closes his eyes and nods. “Mhmm… s’ r’lly hot…” He slurs out.
He feels a cool hand on his forehead and it’s like a fresh cup of lemonade in the hot summer… if that makes any sense.
“Why the hell is he talking about lemonade?” Happy asks in a worried voice from the driver’s seat.
Tony lets out a shaky breath. “He’s burning up, Hap.” He says in a serious tone.
“How bad?” Happy asks, equally as serious.
The car engulfs in a tense silence for a few seconds.
“Friday?”
“104.7 degrees, boss. I highly recommend medical treatment.” Friday says, sounding concerned as well.
“Shit,” Happy curses from the driver’s seat. “Want me to turn around and head to the Compound?”
“Yes. And step on it, Hap. I’ll call Pepper and let her know what’s going on.”
“You got it.” Happy says before Peter feels the car rumble underneath him.
He frowns as he opens his eyes once again and raises one of his hands to his face, his frown deepening when he notices how heavy and tingly it feels, almost like it’s growing in size or something.
“What’s wrong?” Tony asks him.
“M’ hand… feels… weird.” Peter slurs out.
“Define weird.”
“Mmmm…” Peter hums, trying to focus on what he’s feeling but his brain is so mushy it’s hard to think properly. “T’gly… like a balloon.” He slurs, huffing out a laugh at the end.
A balloon—like the animal balloons clowns give out at birthday parties.
“Tony…” Happy says worriedly from the drivers seat, glancing back at him with wide, concerned eyes.
“It’s the fever talking, Hap. Just… Just step on it.” Tony says.
Peter drops his hand to his side, too exhausted to keep it up any longer with how heavy it is. He feels so heavy all over, especially his eyes. He feels Tony’s hand on his forehead again before it moves to his hair, brushing stray strands away from his sweaty forehead.
“Just get some more sleep, Pete. You’re going to be okay.” Tony tells him.
Peter manages to let out a raspy hum at the back of his throat, feeling himself starting to drift off, before he knows no more.
…
Familiar voices break through the darkness.
“How’s he doing back there?”
“He’s still burning up… think he’s getting worse.”
Silence follows for a few long seconds. He’s not sure if he feels something cool wipe across his face… water maybe?
“We’re ten minutes out… call to let him know.”
“Good idea…”
The voices fade away again as the darkness washes over.
…
Peter gasps awake and is barely aware of hands pulling him up into a sitting position and the nausea churning away in his stomach before he’s gagging, puking into a new plastic bag that’s shoved under his chin.
Coughing, Peter blinks through watery eyes, panting from confusion and fear with everything happening all at once, trying to concentrate on everything as his head throbs away, making it difficult to focus. He’s so tired, dizzy, achy, and nauseous all at the same time. He squeezes his eyes shut as he gags again as hot saliva fills his mouth, vomit spewing into the bag.
“You’re okay, Pete… you’re okay.” Tony soothes from behind him, rubbing his back.
Peter lets out a shaky breath, coughing, wincing at the gross taste in his mouth. "M’ s’rry.” He manages to get out, still hovering over the bag.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re sick and these things happen.” Tony reassures him in a soft tone, continuing to rub his back.
Peter closes his eyes, praying for his stomach to calm down as waves of nausea continue to roll through him. Being in a moving car definitely isn’t helping matters much right now.
“Where are we?” He barely manages to rasp out, his voice sounding worse than it has all day.
“We’re pulling up to the Compound gates now.” Happy supplies from up front, glancing back at him in the rear view mirror with a sympathetic look.
Peter lets out a shaky, relieved breath at that, wanting nothing more than to just get out of this car, lie down in an actual bed, and just stop throwing up.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen at the moment as hot saliva shoots into his mouth, followed by something from his stomach, causing him to shove his head back in the bag again with a gag.
By the time the car rolls to a slow stop outside of the Compound’s private entrance, the fit of puking has finally stopped. At least for the moment.
“Think you’re done?” Tony asks, his brows pulled together tightly in concern and sympathy.
Peter lets out a shaky breath as he leans down on his arm, feeling unsteady with how much he’s shaking. He doesn’t even know when he started to shake again. Or why he’s even this sick. He wasn’t this bad this morning. How did everything go south so quickly—and on Christmas Eve too. More tears start to pool in his eyes as his chest tightens with sadness and guilt.
“W-Why is t-this happening?” He croaks out swallowing hard when his voice gives out on him.
It only causes him to let out a weak, choked sob.
He’s so pathetic and gross.
“I don’t know but we’re going to let Bruce take a look at you and find out what’s going on. I think you’ve been working so hard recently with school and patrolling and—speaking from experience—your body is trying to tell you to slow down,” Tony gently says as he finishes tying up yet another bag of his puke. “You just need rest and some good ol’ TLC.” He says, offering him a soft smile.
Peter would smile back if he could but he’s too tired to even move his face. He closes his eyes and winces at just how absolutely shitty he feels right now. He probably hasn’t felt this terrible since the bite and how sick he got after before his powers kicked in.
“Are you ready to head in or do you need a minute?” Tony asks him.
“Mmhh… need a minute.” Peter mumbles as he lies back down on the seat, unable to keep himself up any longer.
“Okay, you take your time.” Tony tells him.
The car is silent for a few long moments until the sound of the glass doors opening across from them outside breaks the silence.
“Bruce is here.” Happy announces in a softer voice than he usually does. “May parked out front so I’m going to fill her in on what’s going on. We’ll meet you guys upstairs when he’s up for some visitors.”
“Sounds good.” Tony says in agreement.
Peter keeps his eyes closed as he hears and feels the car door on his side open, shivering when the cold air rushes inside.
“How’s he doing?” Peter recognizes Bruce’s voice.
“Well, he’s not feeling so hot at the moment.” Tony supplies from beside him as Peter manages to open his eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Peter.” Bruce says, offering him a sympathetic look. “How about we get you inside and out of this cold so you can settle down?” He offers.
Peter shakily nods and tries to slowly sit up but he’s so weak and shaky he can’t. Both Tony and Bruce brace him with both his arms and help him sit up. Bruce’s brows are pulled together in concern as he watches him.
“Instead of having you walk, I brought down a wheelchair for you to make it easier for you.” Bruce says.
Peter wants to cry at that, both from relief and embarrassment.
But more so relief right now.
It takes a few minutes of Tony and Bruce helping him out of the car before Peter is settled in the wheelchair, wrapped up in his jacket after Tony draped it over his shoulders before they make their way inside the building, Tony wheeling him inside a Bruce walks ahead to open the doors for them. Bruce brought out a clean puke bucket, just in case, which Peter is now clutching, immensely grateful for in case he has another puking episode, which might just happen with the way his stomach is protesting against being vertical right now.
“Medbay please, Friday.” Bruce says once they’re in the elevator.
“Right away, Dr. Banner.” She replies as the doors slide shut.
Peter squeezes his eyes shut when he feels his stomach roll as the elevator suddenly move up, clutching the bucket closer to himself, just in case. He can feel a wave of both nausea and dizziness wash over at him all at the same time, causing him to lean forward in the wheelchair, not really sure if he’s about to pass out or not.
“Hey, hey, you good?” Tony asks him worriedly, placing his hands on his shoulders, steadying him.
Peter shakes his head silently, not trusting himself to open his mouth right now without puking again.
“Hang in there for just a little longer, kiddo. We’re almost there.” Tony tells him in a sympathetic voice.
The elevator thankfully stops after a few seconds and the horrible nauseous feeling fades, but he’s still dizzy, even behind his closed eyelids, feeling himself being wheeled out of the metal box of doom and into the medbay hallway. He opens his eyes, squinting against the all-too-familiar harsh LED lighting as they head down the hallway to the room Peter usually stays in when he’s hurt or sick.
He probably should just move up here to be honest with how often he gets hurt.
They head into the room, which is already lit and all of the machines by the bed are all turned on and ready to go. Tony or Happy probably called Bruce on the way to let him know the situation so he could get everything ready.
“Let’s get him settled into bed before we do anything else.” Bruce says.
Peter resists the urge to sigh, dreading the fact that he’s probably going to be poked and prodded as Bruce runs a few tests to figure out what’s wrong with him, and no doubt he’s going to stick an IV in him.
Tony helps Peter up from the wheelchair, supporting him as his leg’s shake underneath him and helps him into the bed. Peter shivers slightly at how cold the sheets under the blankets are but the bed is comfy and it’s way better than sleeping in a car, that’s for sure.
Tony steps aside and lets Bruce work. Bruce goes around the bed and sets an oxygen monitor on Peter’s finger, as well as a few sticky wires that are connected to different machines monitoring his vitals. Bruce helps Peter sit up and raises the front and back of his sweatshirt up as he listens to his heart and lungs with his stethoscope, on both his chest and back. Peter shivers as the cold metal of the bell touches against his feverish skin.
“Sorry,” Bruce says, noticing him shiver before his face settles into concentration as he moves the bell around, listening before he pulls it away, taking the ear tips out of his ears, turning to Tony. “His chest sounds pretty congested and judging by how his oxygen levels are a little lower than normal for him and his other symptoms, I believe he has the flu. And unfortunately, a bad case of it,” he reports as he looks at Peter with a look of sympathy. “With how much you’ve been throwing up, you’re probably a little dehydrated, so I’m going to give you an IV to replenish your fluids. The more fluids you get, your throat and other symptoms will improve.” He says as he stands up from the edge of the bed.
Peter lets out a raspy groan in response, dropping his head back against the pillows behind him.
“I’m sorry, I know you’re not a fan of the IV but it’s necessary, Pete.” Bruce tells him, offering another look of sympathy before he turns away and walks over to a medical cabinet across the room where he keeps all his necessary supplies.
Tony walks over to the bed and sits down on the other side from where Bruce was sitting seconds ago, his usual position next to Peter whenever he needs to distract him from getting his blood drawn, or in this case, an IV inserted in his arm.
It’s embarrassing, honestly.
He’s Spider-Man for goodness sake—and he needs someone to hold his hand and distract him from needles like he’s a little kid.
It’s not that Peter doesn’t trust Bruce—he trusts him with his life—which he’s saved countless times by now with how often Peter gets himself into trouble.
It’s just the whole idea of a needle piercing into his skin that he’s not a fan of, as well as all the times a bad guy has injected him with something or sliced him open.
“Alright, Peter. I’m going to set the IV up now, you’re just going to feel a little pinch, I promise. Okay?”
Peter rolls his head to the side of his pillow, looking at Tony with pleading eyes. “Do I have to?” He rasps out, struggling to get the words out with how wrecked his throat is from all of the throwing up he’s done.
Tony lets out a sigh, nodding as he takes Peter’s hand in his. “I’m afraid so, Pete. It’s going to help you feel better. I’ll be here the whole time, alright?”
Peter closes his eyes and swallows hard with a wince, nodding. He can hear Bruce shifting things around nearby.
“Okay, Peter. I’m going to count down from three. Ready?” He asks.
Peter nods, lightly squeezing Tony’s hand, feeling him squeeze back in response, rubbing his thumb across Peter’s knuckles in a reassuring way.
“Three… two… one…” Bruce counts down slowly and as he does, Peter feels the needle of the IV slip into his the back of his left hand, causing him to lightly flinch, even though he tries not to. He can hear the sound of medical tape ripping, feeling it lightly go across his skin to keep the IV in place. “And there we are.” Bruce says when he’s finished.
Peter opens his eyes and glances down at his hand, seeing the IV taped down to his hand. He’s grateful the tape and thin piece of gauze are keeping where it’s stuck in his skin out of his sight. A wave of nausea rolls through him at the thought, causing him to let out a weak, raspy groan, closing his eyes as he lets his head fall back against the pillows.
“How are you feeling right now, Peter?” Bruce asks.
“Pretty nauseous…” Peter admits, without daring to open his eyes to upset his stomach any further.
“Right,” Bruce says and he can hear more movement around him. “I’m going to leave this basin here for you, just in case. But for now, I’m going to start you on some medicine and fluids to help you start feeling better. For now, try to relax. I’m guessing you’re not feeling up for drinking anything?”
“Mmm… not really.”
“That’s okay. We can try you with some ice chips in a little bit,” Bruce tells him.
It takes Bruce only a few minutes before he has Peter all set up with two fluid bags, one with medication and the other with fluids, all filled with vitamins, electrolytes, and antioxidants. In the time it takes, Peter’s stomach thankfully settled down enough for him to be able to chew on some ice chips Bruce brought him.
Thirty minutes later, Peter is now half-lying down, dozing off as the last piece of ice he took melts in his mouth. His eyes flutter open when he feels Tony taking the half-empty styrofoam cup out of his hand, who is seated in the chair next to his bed.
“S’rry,” Peter slurs out tiredly.
Tony softly smiles at him. “Don’t be sorry, kiddo. You’ve had a long and rough day,” he says as he places the cup on the nightstand next to the bed before turning back to Peter. “How about you try to get some sleep and let those meds kick in?”
Sleep sounds really good right about now.
“Can you stay with me?” Peter raps out, hopefully.
Tony nods, still smiling warmly at him as he reaches a hand out, brushing a stray curl from Peter’s overheated forehead. “Of course I will. There’s no where I’d rather be than here with you.” He says before giving him a knowing look. “And that way, I get to keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t get out of this bed—like you always do.”
Peter manages a tired smile at that as he closes his eyes, letting his head roll to the side against the cool pillowcase beneath his cheek.
A few moments pass and Peter can feel himself starting to drift back off.
“Get some sleep, kiddo.” He hears Tony softly tell him before he falls into a warm, peaceful darkness.
…
A soft nudging causes Peter to stir from his deep slumber. He manages to slowly blink his heavy eyes open, fighting against the heaviness throughout his whole body that’s weighing him down. He blinks a few more times, adjusting his eyes to the bright lights in the room.
“There he is,” a voice says, causing Peter to roll his head to the side, seeing May sitting there, smiling at him. “Good morning, honey.”
Peter manages a small smile as he swallows, grateful to find out his throat doesn’t hurt as bad as before. “Morning,” he rasps out.
Wait… morning?
Peter’s eyes widen as he looks around the dimly lit room, catching a glimpse of the still dark sky outside the windows. “It’s Christmas,” he realizes before he closes his eyes. “I ruined everything. W-We we’re supposed to be at the cabin and-“
May cuts him off by gently taking his hand in her own. “You didn’t ruin anything, Peter. I promise. We all came up with a better idea.” She says with a soft smile.
“You did?” He rasps out as he opens his eyes back up and looks at her.
“We did—Tony did, really, but we all thought it was a good idea with how you’re feeling,” She says, offering him a soft, sympathetic smile. “Instead of going up to the cabin… we’re going to have Christmas here at the Compound, so you don’t have to get back in a car and drive all the way back with how you’re feeling. And Bruce wants to keep an eye on you too. Does that sound okay to you?”
Peter feels a wave of guilt wash over him. Because of him, everyone’s Christmas plans have been ruined and now, they have to stay at the Compound. Tony and Pepper will probably have to drive back to the house to bring all of the food, presents and everything else back here and go completely out of there way—all thanks to him.
“Honey, don’t blame yourself for this,” May says in a soft, knowing voice. “This isn’t your fault. You can’t help it that you’re sick.” She tells him, feeling her hand carding through his curls.
“Still feels like it is.” Peter mumbles miserably, blinking his eyes open to meet her’s.
“I promise you it’s not. Sometimes, life throws us curveballs… it’s what we do when that happens that really matters. And now, we’re making the best of it. It’s going to be a wonderful Christmas, I promise. Okay?”
Peter lets out a small sigh, nodding silently.
“It’s only five-thirty, so how about you get some more sleep and I’ll wake you up a little later? I’m going to do a few things and grab some coffee… will you be alright if I step out for a tiny bit?” May suggests.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit. I love you.” She tells him, kissing his forehead.
“Love you too.” Peter mumbles, unable to smile with the guilt raging away in his chest.
He watches her leave the room and lets out a sigh when he’s alone. Peter rolls himself on his side, facing away from the door as he looks out the window across the room, seeing the dark sky starting to lighten as dawn approaches.
Peter lets out another sigh as he closes his eyes.
He feels like the Grinch that stole Christmas from everyone, all thanks to him getting sick.
No matter what anyone tells him, it is his fault.
Everyone should just go back to the cabin and leave him here so they can celebrate and have fun.
Peter eventually manages to fall back asleep minutes later, his pillow stained with his tears beneath his head.
…
A soft nudging causes Peter to slowly wake up, struggling to with how heavy and exhausted he feels. The nudging continues as he manages to lift his heavy eyes open, only to blink and see Tony in front of him.
A soft smile pulls at the man’s face when their eyes meet. “Merry Christmas, kiddo. How’re you feeling?” Tony asks.
It takes Peter’s sluggish brain a few seconds to comprehend this before the memories from yesterday and this morning come back to him, causing his chest to clench with the same, familiar guilt.
He remains silent, unsure of what to say at the moment, only to see Tony’s face fall slightly as his brows pull together in worry.
“Pete? What’s wrong?”
A few seconds pass by before Peter clears his throat, wincing at how scratchy it sounds. “You should all just go to the cabin and leave me here to be all… gross and sick. I don’t want to ruin your Christmas anymore than I have.” He says, closing his eyes when he feels them warm up with the promise of tears.
“Oh, Pete… look at me, kiddo,” Tony says and Peter feels the bed dip down by his hip. “Pete, open your eyes.” Tony softly repeats.
Peter slowly opens his eyes and looks up at Tony, meeting his eyes.
“We would never leave you here by yourself, sick or not. You’re family. My family. You’re my kid and it wouldn’t be Christmas without you, trust me on that,” Tony says with a wince, referring to those five years during the blip. “I know we’ve all told you this, May especially, that none of this is your fault. We all get sick sometimes, even when it’s inconvenient but we always get through it. Together,” Tony says, his lips pulling up into a smile. “As a family.”
No matter how many times Tony says it, Peter still can never get over being called Tony’s kid. While he may not be biologically, that’s never made Tony not treat him any differently than if he was. And Peter’s never truly let himself believe that he’s Tony’s kid… but… he is. Everything Tony’s done for him, teaching him how to drive, to shave, helping him with homework and school stuff all these years, helping him through the whole college struggle with looking at schools and applying, being there for him whenever he’s been sick (like now), and being there for him through all those times he’s been injured as Spider-Man, staying up until the early morning hours to keep a constant vigil over him when he was seriously injured.
Tony has been there for him through all of it, good and bad times.
Heck, Tony invented a time travel machine to bring him back, along with the other half of the universe after Thanos snapped them out of existence.
That sounds a lot like the things a dad would do for his kid.
Peter’s chest tightens as a warmth bubbles from within himself, feeling his eyes growing wet with tears as he swallows the lump in his throat.
Tony’s face softens more as he notices the tears starting to pool in his eyes as he lets out a chuckle. “Come here, kiddo,” he says as he leans down and helps Peter sit up before wrapping his arms around him in a hug.
Peter buries his head in between Tony’s neck and shoulder as he weakly fists Tony’s soft red buffalo checkered flannel in his hands, wishing more than anything his nose wasn’t stuffed up so much so he could inhale the familiar and calming scent of Tony’s cologne. He can’t hold back the weak sob that escapes from him, feeling so many emotions rushing through him all at the same time.
Tony rests his hand at the back of Peter’s head as they hug. “I’ve got you, bud,” He softly reassures. “I’ve got you.”
It takes an embarrassing long period of time before Peter’s tears run out, only to leave him feeling more drained than before.
“Better?” Tony asks.
Peter nods his head as he sits back, wetly sniffing with a wince. “Y-Yeah.”
Tony reaches over to the nightstand next to the bed and grabs a few tissues, passing them to him. “We all just need a good cry sometimes.” He says with a soft, teasing grin.
Peter manages a small chuckle at that before he blows his nose. He tosses them in the small barrel on the floor next to the bed when he’s done.
“You think you’re feeling up for coming up for some breakfast? Happy’s been in the kitchen since the crack of dawn, cooking up a storm. ” Tony says with a smile.
Peter smiles at that. “I’d hate for his hard work to go to waste.” He says, grateful to actually feel a little hungry as his stomach lets off a low rumble.
It’s definitely better than the horrible nausea he’s been experiencing.
“Good,” Tony says with a smile. “Do you want me to help you to the bathroom first?”
Peter shakes his head. “No… I think I’m good.” He says as he pulls the blankets off himself.
When he goes to stand, a wave of dizziness washes over him, causing his legs to wobble underneath him.
Tony to gently steadies him by his elbow. “You good?” He asks with a worried frown.
“Y-Yeah, yeah. Jus’ a little dizzy.” Peter says, shaking his head as he closes his eyes for a moment, sitting back down on the edge of the bed.
So he’s definitely not feeling better yet.
This must be a pretty bad case of the flu to wipe him out this much, even with his powers and enhanced metabolism.
“Just take it slow, there’s no rush.”
They stay there for a few moments until the lightheadedness fades away, allowing Peter to open his eyes back up. He still feels shaky and weak, like his limbs are weighing him down.
“Maybe I do need a little help.” He admits, his pride be damned.
Tony offers a small smile as he stands up and helps him slowly stand back up, helping him towards the adjoining bathroom across the room, wheeling the IV pole along with them. Peter’s been in this room countless times now, but the bathroom has never felt so far away before.
When they reach the door, Tony flips the lights on for him. “Think you can manage on your own from here?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Peter says with a tired, appreciative smile as he wraps his hand around the cold, metal IV pole.
“I’ll wait out here, just call me if you need me for anything.”
Peter nods as he steps in and closes the door behind himself. He holds an arm out, his fingers brushing up against the wall as he makes his way over to the toilet. It’s a little odd being in here with the pole, but it’s not his first time doing this. When he’s all finished, he goes over to the sink and carefully washes his hands, mindful of the IV in his hand. He splashes some water on his face to wake himself up a little more and blinks the water out of his eyes as he looks up, meeting his reflection in the mirror.
And boy, does he look like complete and utter crap.
He has harsh, dark circles under his sunken in eyes, his skin is at least a few shades paler than usual, and he just looks as exhausted as he feels, which is an understatement.
Peter lets out a sigh as he looks away, drying his hands and face on a nearby towel before he tosses it into the hamper on his way back to the door, wheeling the IV pole with him. He open the door with his free hand, only to see Tony sitting in the chair next to his bed on his phone. He looks up at him as Peter leans against the bathroom door for support, his legs starting to shake a little.
“I’m assuming you’re going to fight me on having you sit in a wheelchair, right?” Tony asks with a raised brow as he walks over.
“You assumed correct.” Peter says.
“I thought so.” Tony says with a chuckle as he wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders for support, starting to lead him out into the hallway.
…
When the finally make it upstairs to Tony and Pepper’s floor, Peter feels drained as he heavily leans into Tony’s side, resting his head on his shoulder as the elevator comes to a stop, still holding onto the IV pole. The doors slide open, only for Peter’s eyes to widen by the sight he’s met with.
A massive Christmas tree sits in the corner of the room by the floor-to-ceiling windows, all lit up and decorated and glowing. And what’s even better, is that it’s snowing outside. The rest of the room is decorated with lights and bows, the fireplace lit up in the living room with all of their stockings hung up.
And not to mention how amazing it smells from the food in the kitchen.
“Wow…” Peter breathes out as Tony helps him step out from the elevator for a better look as he takes it all in.
“What do you think?” Tony asks.
“I… it’s…” Peter struggles for words.
“I think we broke him, Tony.” Happy’s amused voice suddenly fills his ears.
Peter looks across the space, finding Happy and May waking over to them with a smile.
“How’re you feeling, Pete?” Happy asks.
“Better, thanks,” Peter says as he looks back to the room. “Did you guys do all of this?”
“Pepper and May did most of the decorating this morning while Tony and I hitched up the reindeer to make a pitstop up at the cabin for some things.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that. You both pitched in too.” May says with a grin as she gently elbows Happy in the side before she walks over to Peter, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug. “Merry Christmas, honey.”
“Merry Christmas,” Peter says as he closes his eyes, leaning into her. They pull away a few seconds later and Peter continues to look around the room. “Wow… thank you for this. Really. This is amazing.” He says, looking at the three of them.
“We’re just sorry we forgot to include some balloon animals.” Happy says with a small grin, giving him an odd, knowing look.
Peter’s brows pull together in confusion. “What?”
Tony chuckles as he pulls him closer to his side, his smile growing. “Noting, Pete—just something you said while you were a little loopy with your fever yesterday. But as long as you’re happy, we’re happy.” He says.
Peter lets the balloon animal thing go for the moment. He’ll have to ask Tony about it later.
“Now, how about we get you settled down on the couch. I’ll grab you something to eat and drink. Morgan’s not up yet, but you and I already know the first thing that will be on her mind, is to see what Santa left her.” Tony says, earning a chuckle from Happy.
“She wouldn’t go to bed last night she was so excited for Santa and to see you today.” Happy tells Peter as he helps Tony bringing him over to the couch, taking the IV stand from Peter and helping him wheel it over to the couch.
“Really?” Peter asks.
“Yeah. She was really worried about you, like the rest of us. Pepper brought her down last night to check in on you but you were sound asleep.” Happy says.
Guilt bubbles up in Peter’s chest at that, his shoulders dropping. “Oh.”
“But she’s going to be very excited to see you this morning.” Tony adds with a smile, seeming to sense his change in mood.
Peter’s lips manage to lift into a smile at that.
…
Once Peter is settled on the couch with a comfy, red plaid Christmas fleece blanket and a cup of steaming hot tea (Happy isn’t allowing him to have coffee since he’s still sick), he can hear rapid footfalls coming from the hallway.
“IT’S CHRISTMAS!” Morgan yells as she runs from the hallway, dragging Pepper behind her, who’s still struggling to tie her bathrobe belt.
Morgan gasps and stops in her tracks as she takes in the room and the beautiful Christmas tree, along with the many presents littered under the tree.
“Santa found us!” She exclaims, grinning ear to ear as she looks up at her mother.
“He did indeed.” Pepper says with a chuckle as Morgan lets go of her to run over to the tree, unaware of Peter’s presence in her excitement.
Tony clears his throat. “Monguna, we do have one special guest here with us.” He tells her from his spot on the couch next to Peter.
Morgan’s brows pull together as she stops, turning to look at him, only for her eyes to land on Peter. “PETEY!” She exclaims, her brows eyes widening as she rushes over to him.
Peter smiles, mentally preparing himself for the incoming impact of her, but Tony manages to stop her.
“Be gentle, honey. Your brother still isn’t feeling good.” He softly tells her.
Morgan sadly looks at Peter, glancing up at the IV pole and the bags of clear solution hanging, connecting to the IV line in his hand. “You’re still sick, Petey?” She asks in a sympathetic tone as she meets his eyes.
“Yeah, sorry M.” Peter rasps out as she stands on her tip toes to hug him from his position on the couch, sitting up to meet her halfway.
“It’s okay,” Morgan says against his arm before she pulls away, her brown eyes shining in the lights surrounding them. “Are you feeling better?”
“Much better now that you’re here.” Peter tells her with a smile, earning another hug from her.
When she pulls away, Peter notices the soft, knowing expression everyone shares with each other, as well as the fond smile on Tony’s face as he watches them.
Morgan turns to look up at her dad. “Can we open presents now?” She asks in a hopeful voice.
“You sure can.” Tony says with a smile.
A grin stretches across her face, showing the gap at the top row from where she lost a tooth last week. Morgan lets out an excited giggle as she moves away from the couch and runs to the tree, her wide eyes skimming over all of the presents as she looks for her name. She drops to her knees as she picks one up and starts to rip the wrapping paper off.
“Do you want to join her over there?” Tony asks.
Peter shakes his head. “Maybe later. I’m not really feeling up for opening presents to be honest.” He admits, still feeling pretty shaky and worn out from his journey up here from the medbay.
A thought crosses his mind at that second, causing his brows to pull together. “By the way, where did Bruce and the others go? I thought they’d be up here celebrating with us.”
“Oh, don’t worry. They’ll be along.” Happy says with a chuckle, shooting a knowing look over to Tony.
Peter’s brows pull even closer together in confusion but before he can say anything, he hears the elevator ding from behind, causing him to twist his head around, only to see a sight he thought he would never see.
Morgan’s head turns to the elevators as well only for her eyes to widen in shock as she jumps up from the floor. “Santa!”
Stepping out of the elevator, is Jolly ol’ Saint Nick himself, followed by two elves.
Peter bites his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing at the sight of Steve, dressed as Santa Clause, in the whole get-up with the white beard, red suit and black, shiny boots, and Bruce and Bucky dressed as elves.
Steve clears his throat awkwardly. “Ho, Ho, Ho! Merry Christmas!” He says, lowering his voice to sound more in character.
Morgan runs over to him and practically throws herself at him, just as Steve bends down and hugs her. “Santa! How did you know we would be here?”
“Santa always knows where you are, especially the good boys and girls.” He tells her.
Peter smiles as he looks between Tony and Happy. “Who’s idea was this? I thought you were supposed to be Santa, Happy.” Peter says in a quiet voice so Morgan doesn’t hear.
“Well, with everything going on, Steve offered to play the part this year.” Happy says with an amused grin.
“Yeah,” Tony adds, smiling. “And he doesn’t make a bad Santa either. The elves however…” he trails off.
Bucky and Bruce are standing by the elevator, dressed in green velvet outfits and yellow stockings and pointy hats to match, just like Buddy the elf from the movie Elf. They look miserable, like this is the last thing they want to be doing. But they’re looking at Morgan with fond expressions as she rambles off questions to Steve about how the reindeers can fly, what they like to eat and how he manages to deliver presents to every kid on the planet. Steve looks absolutely lost for words as he does his best to answer her questions.
Peter’s chest warms up as he takes in everything around him, hearing Pepper and May laughing at something, Tony and Happy watching Morgan hugging Steve—Santa—and his elves, and looking around himself again at all of the beautiful lights and decorations. He feels tears starting to pool in his eyes as he swallows around the growing lump in his throat.
This is what Christmas is about.
Not the presents under the tree.
It’s about the people you spend it with.
The people you love.
Family.
And every single one of these people in this room is his family. While there are a few people missing, like Clint, Kate, Sam, Thor, and Natasha… they’re family as well. He wishes they could be here to celebrate with them, but they’re away at their own celebrations.
Despite how terribly wrong things have gone so far with him getting so sick and causing everyone to be stuck at the Compound for Christmas on such short notice… things are really looking up. Now, it truly feels like Christmas, being here with everyone and feeling so happy and grateful. Everyone here went out of their way to make this a wonderful Christmas and they truly succeeded in doing that.
Peter swallows hard, reaching a hand up to wipe a stray tear that slips down his cheek, causing Tony to look over at him when he notices.
Tony’s brows pull together in concern. “You okay?” He asks.
Peter nods, smiling. “Y-Yeah,” he says, a little choked up with emotions—but they’re good emotions. He’s just so happy and grateful. “It’s just… this is amazing. I can’t thank you guys enough for doing this.”
Tony smiles warmly as he reaches out and wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him closer to his side as he reaches up and kisses the top of his head. “No need to thank us, kiddo. We’d do anything for you, just to see you smile.”
Peter smiles as he closes his eyes, resting his head against Tony’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Tony.”
“Merry Christmas, Pete.” Tony softly says in return.