Chapter Text
Peter had been feeling slightly off all day in school, but he’d been out patrolling until almost 4 am and didn’t get much sleep.
When he arrived at the compound after school that Friday evening to work with Mr. Stark in the lab, all he could think about was going home so he could sleep. May was working the night shift so he wouldn’t see her until tomorrow, but he didn’t mind being alone in the apartment.
Mr. Stark kept trying to have a conversation with Peter and he felt bad for not really engaging. He valued his time with Mr. Stark a lot and he was always excited to work with him in the lab. But he just couldn’t seem to concentrate very well today. He figured he must be really tired because he could sort of feel a headache coming on.
“How’s the project coming kid?” Mr. Stark asked him after a few hours of working in the lab.
Peter had been fiddling with a robot arm but he hadn’t made much progress today, if any really.
Peter let out a tired sigh, “I haven’t really gotten anything done. I’m not feeling that great Mr. Stark. I’m just really exhausted from patrolling last night.”
Mr. Stark came over to where he was working and Peter turned to face him. He felt Mr. Stark’s hand on his forehead. Peter pulled away groaning, “Mr. Stark, I’m not a baby. Stop.”
“Come on kid. I told you to call me Tony. Are you sure it’s just exhaustion? Maybe you’re coming down with something. You feel a little warm kid.” Mr. Stark said, brows furrowing as he looked at Peter.
Peter shook his head, “I can’t get sick. I haven’t gotten sick since I got bit. I’m just tired, really.”
Mr. Stark nodded, “Alrighty then kid. It’s almost eight, how about some dinner and a movie? The lab will be here for us another day.”
Peter agreed and they went upstairs to the living area. Peter sat on the couch to pick out a movie while Mr. Stark heated up some pasta.
As Mr. Stark brought over two bowls of noodles, Peter had finally settled on some action movie.
A wave of nausea stopped him from eating too much. He only got about two bites down before pushing the pasta around in his bowl.
“What’s the matter kid? Trying to tell me I’m a bad cook?” Mr. Stark smirks.
Peter tries a smile, “Just not very hungry I guess. Sorry.”
“You sure you’re alright kid?”
“I just need to sleep tonight. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
They watch the movie together on the couch and Peter drifts off after only about 20 minutes of the movie.
Tony looks down at the sleeping kid on his couch. He smiles, he looks so peaceful in his sleep, so relaxed. Peter looked tired, and a little ill, but he was right, he hadn’t gotten sick in the two years of being SpiderMan. He really must just be exhausted.
He shrugged a blanket over the kid and placed a hand on his face again. He couldn’t tell if he felt warmer than before. He just needed to sleep it off. He was fussing, he knew he was. Pepper was the one who fussed, not him.
If Peter weren’t asleep right now, he’d be telling Tony to stop babying him and let him sleep. So he tried to leave him be. He figured the kid may as well stay the night since it was getting late. He texted the boy's Aunt to let her know he’d bring Peter home tomorrow at some point.
May texted back and said she’d be back at work again tomorrow covering for a coworker but to feel free to send Peter home whenever he got tired of his company and that he’d be fine on his own.
Tony didn’t think Peter was a kid he’d ever get sick of. He was a good kid. No. A great kid. He was always so polite and kind. He was interested in learning. Even if the kid went off the rails and started acting like a crazy teen, he’d still love him.
Tony awoke to the strange silence of the living room. He must’ve dozed off. The movie had ended although he wasn’t sure how long ago that was. He shut off the television and turned on the table lamp, giving the room a soft glow.
“Let’s get you to bed Peter,” Tony whispered. He bent over to shake the kid awake but when his hand touched the boy, he pulled away.
Heat was radiating off of him. He knelt down next to the couch to get a better look at him, pulling the blanket off of him.
His shirt was drenched in sweat and his skin had taken on a grayish pale tone, his skin glowing from a layer of sweat. His body was trembling, shaking almost like he was cold. His eyes were red rimmed.
Tony shook the boy, getting scared. What was wrong with him? Was it the flu?
“Peter buddy you gotta wake up. I need you to wake up.”
Peter didn’t so much as flinch, he was completely passed out.
“FRIDAY,” Tony started, “What do I do?”
“To identify an illness, take Peter’s temperature. Children this age are susceptible to a flu which includes symptoms of a high fever, fatigue, coughing, nausea, headaches and sweating. Would you like me to call Dr. Banner or Dr. Cho?”
Tony nods then forgets he’s taking to FRIDAY. “Yes. Call Bruce.”
The line rings over the speaker and a groggy Bruce picks up on the last ring. “Tony? It’s the middle of the night.”
“The kid is sick. Really sick. I don’t know what to do. I need help Bruce. I’ve never done this before, he feels really hot and he’s sweating a lot. I can’t get him to wake up.”
Tony didn’t realize he was rambling until Bruce cut him off, “Slow down Tony. I’m sure he’s alright. I can come over and take a look at him, okay? Go get a thermometer and take his temperature. That’s the first step.”
Tony did as he was told. He shifted Peter so that he was lying on his back rather than on his side and slid the thermometer into his mouth. Bruce was still connected and he could hear him shuffling around. Tony felt like he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He needed to calm down.
The thermometer beeped and he took it out, his heart sinking. He cursed, putting his hand back to Peter’s boiling face.
“What is it Tones?” Bruce called out.
“104.3,” Tony told him.
“Shit Tony. That’s bad. Really bad. I’m getting in my car now, I’ll be there in 10 minutes tops. Get him down to the infirmary and then put a cold compress on his forehead.”
Tony scooped the kid up and cradled him to his chest. Peter’s head fell limply against his arm. Tony knew that Peter was heavy, but at that moment with the amount of adrenaline running through him, he couldn’t have felt lighter than a toddler.
He hurriedly carried him down to the med bay and laid him onto the white sheeted bed. His head lolled to the side and Tony ran a small towel under cold water while he filled a small cup with ice. He poured the ice into the towel, wrapped it, and brought it back over to the kid, who somehow looked worse now than he had three mintues ago.
Tony hopped up onto the bed with Peter and shifted his head so that it was in Tony’s lap. He bagan dabbing the compress across the kids face, simultaneously running his other hand through his curly hair, hoping it would comfort him at least a little bit.
Bruce came in a little while later and asked for an update.
“I don’t know, he doesn’t look good. I think he’s gotten worse.”
“Have you taken his temperature again?”
When Tony shook his head, Bruce pulled out a thermometer and Tony shifted his head so that he could take it.
Bruce inhaled sharply, “107.8 Tony. The only reason he’s probably still alive right now is because of his enhanced body. Whatever’s going on with him, his body’s trying to burn it out of him. I need to know everywhere he’s been, everything he could’ve come in contact with in about the past 24 hours. If I can isolate the toxin, we can figure out how to flush it out of his system.”
Tony’s head snapped up, “Wait, you think he’s been poisoned?”
Why hadn’t that thought occurred to him? Of course he’d been poisoned. God, he felt so stupid. So stupid and negligent. Peter had told him. He’d told him he hadn’t been sick in 2 years. Peter knew something was wrong, something more than just being sick. He tried to tell him, even if he hadn’t really understand what it was he was trying to explain. Tony was the adult, Peter was still just a child. Tony should’ve known, he should’ve pieced it together sooner.
All those hours he just brushed it off as a cold and Peter was deteriorating quickly. Peter told him he had went patrolling the night before. If he had acted sooner, Peter might be okay by this point. Instead, he told the kid they should just watch a movie.
He should’ve known it was more serious. In their line of work, it was always more serious.
“Yes. His symptoms don’t allign with some regular sickness. Now think Tony. I need to know this stuff.” Bruce went on.
Right. Bruce had asked him a question. He told him something. Tony’s breathing was labored, he couldn’t help the panic that swept over him. He couldn’t think at all.
Bruce shook his shoulder, “Snap out of it Tony. The kid needs you. You need to focus. Take a deep breath. You’re alright. The kid will be alright. Just think.”
Tony let out a shaky breathe, “Right. There’s a sensor in his suit, his AI, Karen, I can ask her to recount the night.”
He shifted Peter and got up from the bed, making his way over to the desktop computer, “Karen, recount Peter’s patrol last night, he’s very ill. Did anything out of the ordinary happen?”
“Peter’s patrol last night went much similar to most other nights. He did get stabbed in the stomach at 1:08 in the morning by a drug hustler in an alleyway. However, my sensors did not detect anything alarming as it healed at the same speed as his other injuries do. It is possible the dagger was laced with a substance.” Karen explained.
Shit. Why hadn’t Peter told him he had gotten stabbed? That wasn’t important right now. He looked to Bruce who just shook his head, “Tony I’m sorry. If the wound already healed, there’s no way to tell what the drug was.”
Tony deflated, “So what do we do?”
“You’re not gonna like it…but we just have to wait it out. We just have to hope his body can get through it on its own. Let’s get him hooked up to an IV. He’ll need to sweat it out most likely. He may throw up as well, but we need to keep his as hydrated as possible so his body is able to expel drugged liquid.”
Tony shook his head angrily, “No. No way Bruce. I’m not gonna sit here and watch him suffer, just hoping he’ll make it through the night. There has to be something we can do. Anything. That’s a child Bruce. A child. My child. He can’t die. I can’t lose him.”
Bruce’s gaze softened and he sighed, “You really love the kid don’t you?”
“What’s not to love? He’s a great kid, he really is. He’s so happy, so positive, and kind all the time. It just…it kills me to see him like this. Physically kills me, Bruce. He’s the last person on Earth that deserves this. He’s good,” Tony looks into Bruce’s eyes meaningfully, “Better than any of us.”
“I know Tony. He’s gonna be fine.”
They were pulled out of their conversation by movement coming from the bed. When they looked over at Peter, his body had started to spasm. Bruce’s eyes widened and he ran to the bedside. “Tony, grab his head. He’s seizing.”
Tony did as he was told, climbing into the bed and holding Peter’s head between his legs. Sure enough, Peter started seizing a moment later. His eyes rolled back in his head, his eyelids opening just enough so Tony was staring into the bloodshot whites of his eyes. Bruce kept the boy’s body steady. White foam started dripping from his mouth. Bruce called out, “Tony, we need to turn him on his side.”
He twisted his head and Peter still seized, now turned onto his side. Liquid foams from his mouth, his brow laced with sweat. The seizure only lasts less than a minute but feels like an hour to Tony.
It’s the first of several seizures in the next two hours and Tony refuses to get up from where he sits with Peter, running fingers through his hair between episodes. The kid looks awful, pale and weak.
It’s a long night, it feels like the longest night Tony’s ever experienced. He’s wracked with worry as he spends the night taking care of his kid through seizures and fevered ramblings.
The next day, Peter opened his eyes. Tony had fallen asleep next to his bed, his head on his arms.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter whispered, looking around him. He felt like he’d been hit by a bus. He’d never felt so awful in his life.
Tony immediately shot up, his hand going to Peter’s head. He sighed in relief when his skin radiated a normal temperature. “God kid you had me scared half to death.”
“Sorry,” he whispered, looking up at his mentor.
Tony sighed, running a hand through the boys curls, “I’m just glad you’re okay now. I was really worried about you kid.”
Peter cracked a smile, “You love me, don’t you?”
Tony chuckled, “Yeah kid. I love you.”