#the friendly neigborhood fic exchange | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

canonismybitch · 5 years ago

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Little Ducklings

By @canonismybitch for @just-the-daydreamer

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: Not rated

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Academic Decathlon Team, Bruce Banner & Roger Harrington

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, FRIDAY, Academic Decathlon Team

Summary: Peter Parker was sick, and he would not let that keep him from going to his Field Trip. It also gave Tony a reason to take over the tour.

Hey Beca! Surprise!!!! I’m your off-holidays secret santa! I really hope you enjoy the fic!

Peter Parker-Stark was not having a good day.

But that wasn’t unusual, was it?

No, his luck had never been the best to begin with, so bad days were something he had grown used to (as sad as that was).

But his bad days were usually because of the villain of the week, or a study session for Decathlon he had forgotten about (but MJ hadn’t, because she never forgot stuff like that). Sometimes it was gym class and having to pretend that he was weak and couldn’t do the exercises like his classmates; some others because he had to leave Ned and MJ staying up for him to watch a movie that would have to wait because people apparently forgot that kidnapping was illegal.

All in all, bad days were even more common than good days, so it wasn’t at all surprising.

What was surprising was that Peter woke up sick.

Sure, he had been a very sickly kid all his childhood (and part of teenagehood, even if the word sounded weird), but after his run-in with a certain radioactive spider, Peter had had nothing else but perfect health. Ever since that horrible night when we spent an uncountable amount of time puking his guts out and fever-dreaming, he had not been sick. Nothing. Nada.

For four years.

So why the hell did he feel like dying?

Peter hadn’t felt more nauseous in his life. Well… except for that time when the spider bit him and his stomach had felt as if it was fighting a war with food (and losing), but that time he had actually thrown up.

Today he had woken up feeling as if all his dinner (and midnight snack) would be coming back up, except they hadn’t, and Peter had felt miserable all morning, especially when he had to bend over to pick his clothes even though his dad always told him to leave your clothes somewhere where I can’t step on them, Pete.

[He’d listen to his dad from now on. Maybe.]

His dad had left him a note on the kitchen next to a plate of pancakes that, if it were any other day, would’ve smelled heavenly. As it was, Peter just grabbed the note and ran (power walked, really) out of the kitchen so he could read it in peace.

Hey kiddo! See you in a few hours ;) Pls eat breakfast. It’s chilly out so grab something comfy, I don’t want a repeat of last Xmas. Love you! Dad

Peter sighed, if it were for him, he’d have stayed in bed all day, but nooooooo. Today had to be his Decathlon team’s field trip to the Tower and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to miss it. He didn’t even want to miss it. Sure, most of his class didn’t believe him, but he really wanted to show his home to Ned and MJ, since they could never visit because your dad is Iron Man! Danger! Authorized personnel only!

Besides, he would even get to show the team that the internship was real, maybe that way they’d stop calling him a liar behind his back; as if their whispers were subtle. Peter bet that he would be able to hear them even without his super hearing.

“Peter, Mr. Hogan is waiting for you in the garage. I would advise you to eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.”

Peter hurriedly grabbed a hoodie that someone (probably him) had left draped over the sofa and ran to the elevator. An unhappy Happy was not someone anyone ever wanted to encounter.

(Sometimes he wondered if the Happy from Snow White could ever be unhappy like his Happy. Not that he ever told anyone.)

People at school were staring at him for longer than usual. Peter thought it had something to do with the fact that his skin was most definitely green and that it looked as if he would make a dash for the bathroom at any second. Belatedly, he thought about the bus ride to the Tower and prayed to Loki (because Uncle Thor never really answered) that he wouldn’t have to ride at the back.

“Well, someone's feeling bold today. What gives, eight legs?”

Peter jumped a little when he heard MJ appear behind him and grab the sleeves of his hoodie. Ned wasn’t far behind her.

“What do you mean, MJ?” Peter turned around to look at her, “Bold?”

MJ let his sleeve go, an are you serious, Parker? look in her eyes that he knew too well.

“Dude! That is so cool! Tony lets you use his clothes? I thought they’d fit better but that hoodie is super baggy, where did you get it? Did you raid a cardboard box with other cool stuff? Did you find any science trophies-?”

Peter was pretty sure his face was the epitome of confusion, and MJ was merciful enough to put him out of his misery.

“The hoodie, loser. It says ‘Stark’ on the back.”

Oh.

Peter must’ve grabbed his father’s hoodie from his MIT days. Tony had a habit of leaving it in the living room for Peter to use when they had a movie night. Clint had called it proof of the Dadvengers being an actual thing, but his dad had thrown the bowl of popcorn to the archer’s face and that had been that.

[That had not been that, and Tony was now the (questionably) proud owner of a pair of Crocs that had big plastic letters with the word DADVENGER on the front. Not that Peter knew that.]

It made sense though, Peter always went to that hoodie for comfort, and today had been especially shitty.

MJ threw an eraser to his forehead, counting on Peter to catch it and snap out of whatever it was that he was thinking.

“It looks good on you, nerd. Now hurry up, because I am not sitting at the back of the bus and I’m dragging you two dorks with me.”

And with that, MJ turned around and started walking towards their bus, expecting Ned and Peter to follow.

Of course they followed. They were best friends with the scary lady, they knew that nothing good would happen if they didn’t. It wasn’t until they had already taken their seats that Peter remembered MJ liked to ride on the back and sketch people’s faces.

Awwww, so she did love him.

Flash made sure to kick his leg as he made his way towards the back of the bus.

“Good thing I’m not going to be anywhere near you, Penis. You look like you’re gonna toss your cookies at any moment-” Wait, was Flash worried about him? Did he really look that sick? “-I’ll make sure to film it though, maybe show it to every single employee we find, what do you think? They’ll see how pathetic the guy posing as an intern actually is.”

Or, Peter thought, maybe he’s just making fun of me.

When the bus rumbled to life, and Peter felt the engine and its little tremors on his whole body, he had to hug his stomach and bend until his head was practically hidden between his legs. Because of that, he didn’t get to see Ned and MJ exchange looks that practically screamed this idiot is actually going to toss his cookies, isn’t he?

Knowing Peter as well as they did, they figured out pretty quickly that he probably had decided to come on the trip just for them. And, yeah, they loved the adorable dork, but the second he was feeling better MJ wouldn’t hesitate to punch him for being an idiot.

Though, judging by the way Peter groaned and buried himself in his hoodie, they guessed the nausea (and the migraine that the spiderling felt coming) was enough punishment for now.

Ned shuffled on his seat until he managed to get his jacket off and proceeded to drape it like a blanket on top of Peter, who hadn’t even noticed that he was shivering until he felt the very warm and very comfy fabric on top of him. It smelled like Ned and his lavender cologne, strong enough to comfort him but light enough to not make him puke.

Peter still groaned when he felt the bus do a particularly nasty jump that left his stomach rolling and his head bouncing, which did not help his headache at all. The sound of a pencil over paper told him that MJ was having way too much fun with his misery. Flash’s snickering wasn’t really welcome either.

Mr. Harrington? Well, at this point he and Ned were the only people he would tolerate, so he wasn’t too angry when his science teacher knelt beside him.

“Peter? Are you feeling okay? I brought some Benadryl you can take if you’re feeling bus sick, maybe even some gum?”

He knew that his teacher meant well, but the thought of the peppermint gum his teacher was sure to be carrying made his nausea worse. Shaking his head was also out of the question when he felt his headache spiking into there’s a hammer on my skull levels.

Thankfully, he had the best friend in the whole world, and he spoke sick Peter (though he was a bit rusty in the language, the spiderling hadn’t been sick for a long time, though you didn’t hear Ned complaining about that).

“Uh, Mr. Harrington? Peter’s fine. Just, don’t mention the bus sickness? Or the gum?”

Their teacher –bless him– just gave them a look before going back to his place at the front of the bus.

When Peter’s head bounced again after their driver decided that he wanted to play a game of how to drive through the lanes with the most bumps, MJ sighed and threw her sweater at the vigilante. The smell of her fabric softener and the soft wool made for the perfect pillow, and he was out like a light for the rest of the ride.

You know how sometimes you feel sick, and you take a nap to make yourself feel better? But it actually does the opposite and you wake up feeling like shit?

Yeah.

If it weren’t for Ned, Peter thought he might not have been able to sit up from the (very uncomfortable) bus seat. As it was, he faithfully followed his best friends like a baby duckling until they were standing with the whole team in front of Stark Tower.

The oohs and aahs weren’t helping his headache any. Even though everyone from the Decathlon team lived in New York, they stared at the Tower as if it was a view they didn’t see every day.

Even Mr. Harrington looked excited, and he never looked like that unless he was explaining a particularly interesting chemical reaction. Peter wondered if that’s the face he would make when the class gave him the set of new beakers everyone had gotten him for Teacher’s Day.

Memo to me, he thought, remind me to ask MJ to sketch his face that day.

Before he knew anything, they were going inside the Tower.

Right into his home.

Peter’s head felt like it was made of cotton.

His nausea had returned tenfold, and now his muscles felt heavy, stiff. As if he had been gone out on patrol for far too long and his super healing had yet to kick in. Every movement costed him as if there were weights strapped to his limbs.

He knew that he wasn't the only one that noticed.

Still, he took a deep breath, straightened up as much as his rolling stomach let him, and let the glare of the sun right on his eyes and into what was becoming the worst headache of his life.

If anyone at the Tower figured out that he was sick, his dad would worry. Peter didn’t want that.

Surprisingly, Mr. Harrington managed to herd them into a line of students that could have been called straight, except for the fact that Ned and MJ had decided to be his personal bodyguards (how they were going to guard him from the worst case of flu he had ever experienced, Peter didn’t know) and stand at his sides in case he decided to take a little tumble. Still, since they were at the end of the line no one really seemed to mind.

They got Eloise as their tour guide. Peter liked to give tours of the Tower masquerading as an intern, and Eloise almost always ended up with him as her shadow. They had bonded over their sixth (seventh for Peter) sense that warned them of people trying to touch stuff they specifically told them not to touch. As much as Peter was relieved that their guide was someone he knew (not that he didn’t know everyone in the Tower), the second Eloise laid her eyes on him she’d know that he was sick. And if she knew, it wouldn’t be long before Tony did.

Sure enough, her eyes lingered a bit longer on his form before she clapped her hands animatedly and addressed his team.

“Well hello, Midtown! It’s a pleasure to have the winners of the National Academic Decathlon competition here at Stark Industries! I’m sure your teacher has gone over the rules with you, but you’ll have to bear with me,” his classmates were too busy being excited to really care about having to wait a few seconds longer to go inside, even MJ seemed especially attentive. “Our most important rule here at Stark Industries is that we do not condone harassment. If we see you harassing any of your classmates or any of our employees you will all be required to step out of the building. I know that it’s not fair for those of you that are sweet and innocent angels, but you have to be accompanied by your teacher at all times, and if one person has to step out, all of you have to follow. There are no warnings, no third strike, you’re out. You harass anyone, you’re out.”

Unsurprisingly, everyone subtly (and not so subtly) looked at Flash, promising him hell with their glares if he got them kicked out of the coolest building in the world. And –as if they had rehearsed it– all the team nodded at the same time.

Eloise smiled at them.

“Great! Now, rule number two is very simple: you do not touch anything unless you have permission. You will not believe how many times this rule is broken in our tours, but I’m counting on you to be a good group and keep your grabby hands to yourselves.”

That said, she clapped her hands together and motioned for the team to follow her through the metal scanner that doubled as an entrance to the public. Everyone followed Eloise through it without a second thought, probably ignoring the fact that their faces were being scanned as they walked right through. It wasn’t until Peter made his way to his teammates that FRIDAY spoke up, effectively scaring everyone into jumping a couple of feet in the air (even MJ, and that gave him bragging rights for months).

“Hello, Peter. It’s odd to see you back so soon, is everything alright?”

By force of habit, Peter answered the AI before he even realized that said AI had no right to be familiar with him.

“Hey, FRI! I’m on a field trip, not that you didn’t know that.”

“Your sassiness has been noted, Peter.”

He smiled at the ceiling as he often did when talking to FRIDAY, but someone clearing their throat brought him back to the very real fact that his Decathlon team was staring at him as if he had grown a second head, or those extra arms Ned liked to talk about.

“Stop stealing the attention of my tour group, puppy eyes. We have a schedule to follow.”

Eloise winked at him, purposefully using the nickname Clint and Nat had made for Peter. The vigilante mock-glared at their guide, but dutifully acted like a duckling and following her to the elevator.

His team kept staring at him.

Maybe he had grown an extra set of arms after all.

“Boss, Peter is in the building and he is looking remarkably under the weather.”

Tony looked up from his cup of coffee, half a cookie in his mouth.

“Run that by me again, FRI?”

“Peter appears to be exhibiting symptoms consistent with the flu, sir. Very noticeable nausea, very slow walking, and possible headache.”

Tony rubbed at his forehead, exasperated. His kid was going to be the death of him, and it wasn’t even 10 AM.

“Did he even eat breakfast, FRI? Like I told him to?”

“Negative, Boss. His pancakes are on a lunch box in his backpack. By my calculations, they are already cold and possibly unappetizing.”

This time, Tony let his head drop to the kitchen counter with a quiet thud. His teeth catching on the uneaten remains of the cookie.

“This kid…”

Riding on the elevator had been a Bad Idea. With capital letters and everything.

The moment they had started moving upwards to what Peter could see was floor 47, his nausea started up again, worse than ever. Dizziness had also decided to make an appearance, and for a good 12 floors, he had to lean on Ned to avoid dropping like a sack of potatoes on top of Cyndi and Charles.

MJ made sure to take a picture of his face so she could draw it later.

She also kept one of her hands hovering behind his back in case he decided to topple over Mr. Harrington instead.

When the elevator doors opened after what seemed like an eternity, Peter was one of the first people out, vowing to himself to never go inside an elevator again.

(He knew he’d have to break his vow the minute the team had to go to lunch, but he ignored that for now.)

“Well, Midtown, we’re on floor 47. This is one of the more advanced sections of the Tower, and tour groups aren’t usually allowed up here, but Mr. Stark made an exception for you guys. You can thank puppy eyes over there, Peter’s his personal intern and probably the reason you’ll get to meet some Avengers today–” everyone erupted into squeals of excitement, most of the team looking at Peter as if they were seeing him for the first time in their lives.

“Wait, so you do have an internship here, man?”

“And you’re Tony Stark’s personal intern?”

“Think you can give us a tour of the super-secret stuff, Parker?”

Oh, Thor. His team was staring at him as if they wanted to eat him alive.

“I’m afraid Peter can’t show you any classified stuff, or he’d risk being fired. However, we can continue on with the tour and I’ll show you to the super cool lab that’s right behind you.”

And with that, everyone turned to look at the glass walls that separated them from what Peter knew to be the prosthetics lab. From what he could see, Bruce was working down here today.

Apparently, his classmates made the same discovery promptly after Peter did and had started to whisper animatedly about Bruce Banner being right in front of them oh God they should have brought a picture of him so he could sign it.

If his team had been a bunch of puppies, they would have all been wagging their tails.

It was kind of cute, actually.

“Boss, Peter and his team are down on the prosthetic lab on floor 47. Dr. Banner is also working there at the moment.”

Tony grinned, grabbing his third cup of coffee and making his way to the elevator.

He had a kid to take care of, and two best friends he needed to meet.

The moment they stepped inside the lab, one of the interns –Mark?– grabbed Peter by the arm and dragged him to one of the tables at the center of the room. (And– yep, there was the headache again.)

“Uh, excuse me– I can’t allow you to take a student from the group–”

“Roger? Roger Harrington?”

Every single person in the room simultaneously turned to look at Dr. Banner and Mr. Harrington in what would have been a very comic reenactment of a tennis match if it wasn’t for the fact that Bruce Banner apparently knew Mr. Harrington and he hadn’t thought to tell them.

“Dr. Banner, ah… I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Bruce came up to their teacher and hugged him.

Honest to Thor hugged him.

“Of course I would! Peter likes to talk about his science classes and your name comes up once in a while. He’s one of our best engineers, by the way, you’ll have to excuse us for trying to steal your student; we don’t usually get him to come down and help with this lab, even if it was his idea in the first place.”

The tour group had turned to look back at Peter, who by that time had made use of one of the stools in the lab and had sat down to examine what looked to be a prosthetic hand.

(Well, the tour group minus Mr. Harrington, who looked ecstatic about one of his students telling Dr. Banner about his science class, that he enjoyed.)

Queens’ vigilante was valiantly ignoring the looks his classmates were giving him, opting to test the mobility on the prosthetic arm he was working on. That didn’t stop him from listening to Flash’s sputtering, and Peter cracked a smile at the finger his bully was pointing at him.

“I did tell you I had an internship…”

“But you didn’t tell me that you had a Field Trip today, kiddo. Shouldn’t I have signed something?”

So this is how Peter died. The flu wouldn’t kill him, oh no. The flu was there to make him feel even more miserable while he watched his dad making his way to his table, Spider-Man mug in hand and sunglasses on, walking in like he owned the place (which, he did…).

“Uh… I had my Aunt sign it, sir?”

His dad set the mug down next to Peter’s tools on the table, before making grabby hands at his handiwork and examining, turning it every which way.

The room was eerily quiet.

And then–

“You’re Tony Stark!”

Tony turned to look at the tour group before him.

“And you all have elbows,” at the sight of the kids’ stunned faces, the billionaire shrugged, “What? I thought we were pointing out the obvious.”

He turned to look at back at his son and took note of the hoodie under a large jacket that could’ve only belonged to Ned. He smirked.

“Isn’t that my hoodie?”

Peter grinned back at his father, taking the prosthetic from his dad and carefully placing it back in its case.

“Hoodie? What hoodie?”

Tony just laughed, ruffling his kid’s curls and taking note of the way he winced when his head moved a little too much for his liking.

“Just for that, I’m stealing your hoodie next time I see it laying around in the lab.”

The mechanic’s eyes scanned the gaggle of stunned teenagers and one starry-eyed teacher before he spotted the two people he had been looking for. They were unmistakable, even if he had never met them personally –the walls in his son’s room were filled to the brim with pictures of these two. He pointed at them.

“Ted and Melissa, right?”

Peter hid his head on his hands. Of course Tony was picking today of all days to be a dad.

Ned didn’t look nearly as affected as Peter.

“Yes, sir! Well, kinda…”

His father huh-ed, and then looked at their tour guide.

“Eloise, was it? You’re free to go back to your project. I’ve got the little ducklings.”

She nodded quickly, saying goodbye to the team while Dr. Banner and Mr. Harrington swapped numbers.

Then, Tony led them to the elevator.

Ned and MJ were right there for him to lean on while they made their way to the training rooms. So was his dad, but by this point, he was pretty sure that FRIDAY had told him something was definitely not fine, and he wasn’t about to worry him even more. That didn’t make the elevator ride any less hellish, especially when Flash kept glaring daggers at him.

This time, the elevator stopped at the Avengers’ personal gym.

His class stayed inside the elevator, Tony the only one to actually step out and greet his team. Even though they had known that they’d see their heroes, everyone appeared to be too excited to move.

It wasn’t until FRIDAY had started closing the elevator doors that they all stepped out as fast as they could and gathered around Tony like the ducklings the billionaire liked to compare them to.

“Well! I’m pretty sure you know who they are, you’re free to pester them with questions! And don’t worry, they don’t bite,” he dramatically scratched his chin, “wait, Natasha does bite, but you’re safe with the others!”

His classmates made their way to the Avengers, slowly at first. Then, Clint made a joke and that was all it took before the heroes found themselves answering questions left and right.

Peter stayed by his dad.

Tony hugged him with one arm, both for affection and to ensure that he wouldn’t go say hi to the floor.

“FRIDAY said you were sick, buddy. Why didn’t you stay in bed?”

The spiderling shook his head, before wincing as his headache just got worse.

“I wanted to come. They didn’t believe in my internship, and I really wanted to show Ned and MJ around. Besides, I felt fine yesterday…”

“You should have at least eaten breakfast. You know your spidey metabolism needs fuel.”

Peter made a face.

“I… couldn’t really stomach anything. I mean, I haven’t thrown up yet, but that’s turning out to be a very real possibility.”

His dad frowned.

“When your team goes home I’m taking you down to the medbay, you haven’t been sick since the spider bite and a little stomach bug should’ve been nothing for your healing.”

Peter opened his mouth to answer, but someone yelling his name took his attention elsewhere.

“Pete! We’re gonna do a quick demonstration. Wanna spar?”

Uh, no thanks. He would definitely pass out if he did that.

Thankfully, his dad knew that too.

“Not today, Legolas! Gotta take the ducklings to lunch. Be a responsible tour guide and all that. Midtown! Follow me to the cafeteria, please!”

His classmates waved at the Avengers, taking some last-minute selfies and shaking their hands.

Peter resigned himself to another ride in the elevator.

Peter loved the cafeteria. Almost every day, he’d come down here for a quick snack on his way to help in whatever lab crossed him first, and Martha –the nice lady that sold ice cream– always saved him a scoop or four for when he got out of training. The vendors were really nice, and it was a common floor for all the scientists to have a good time (and a good meal).

But today? Today the mix of different smells and the chatter that could be heard through the whole floor made him want to run to his room and hide under the covers.

“Well, I’ll be checking some stuff on the upper floors while you get something in your stomachs. I trust your teacher to take care of you, but there’s still an AI watching over you at all times. Something happens, you tell her or someone from the staff, capiche?”

Everyone nodded, eagerly looking around the cafeteria and planning their meal.

“Good! Then I’ll leave you be, see you in 45 minutes, kiddies!”

And with that, he was gone, swallowed by the elevator.

The team pushed some tables together and decided that they’d be eating together. It wasn’t different from their breakfasts at the hotel they stayed at for the duration of the Nationals. In fact, it was oddly familiar.

But Peter wasn’t paying much attention.

He was definitely feeling worse after a day of running around in the Tower. The dizziness had definitely gotten worse, as had his nausea. It was horrible.

His headache was no better. The lights hanging from the ceiling were blinding to his sight, and fireworks danced behind his eyelids whenever he blinked. It had extended from the back of his head to his temples, and now even his ears hurt.

So Peter took to leaning on Ned while MJ let him borrow her sweater again, using it as a pillow (again) and draping one of the sleeves over his eyes in hopes of drowning out the light.

Mr. Harrington was definitely worried by now, as was the rest of his team. Not even Flash had made a comment. A quick peek under the sweater’s sleeve told him it was because his bully was not at the table.

It wasn’t until they all started to bring out their lunches that hell broke loose. Someone (probably Jason) had brought hard-boiled eggs, and the second the smell hit Peter’s nose, he jumped out of his chair and made a run to the bathroom, just in time to toss his cookies in one of the vacant stalls.

His stomach rolled and Peter felt oddly reminiscent of the time he had been stabbed on the abdomen last month. The pain certainly was familiar.

It felt as if an eternity passed before he was finally done, even though he hadn’t even had breakfast to begin with.

Someone knocked on his stall.

“Hey, Parker! You okay in there?”

Peter kicked the door open as best as he could when he recognized Flash’s voice. It wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t think that he’d be able to stand up on his own.

His bully grasped him by the shoulders, flushing the toilet as an afterthought, and helped him off the floor slowly.

“Answer the question, Penis. You okay?”

Awww, would you look at that? He did care.

“Just peachy.” He said, before a wave of dizziness made itself known and he promptly passed out.

“Parker? Hey, Parker! Who gave you the right to pass out?!”

Flash was freaking out, but he knew that Peter needed help, even if he was the worst when it came to actually doing something for Penis Parker.

He carefully adjusted his grip on the smaller boy, and prepared to lift him princess-style so that they could get out of that bathroom as soon as possible. He was expecting his classmate to be a little heavy, what with the muscle he had suddenly grown over the summer four years ago.

He wasn’t expecting him to be as light as a feather.

“Mr. Harrington! Mr. Harrington!” Flash yelled as he came out of the bathroom holding onto Peter.

“Flash what did you do?” Ned asked, as he hovered over his best friend, who was slowly waking up.

“He didn’ do nothin’. Hel’ed me…”

Mr. Harrington took Peter from Flash and helped him sit in one of the benches where they had been having lunch.

“Peter? What happened? Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Just as Peter was about to answer (and he was seeing 7 fingers in only one hand, so that probably wasn’t good), his father stepped out of the elevator and ran to where the team was.

“Pete! What happened?!”

Peter groaned, making grabby hands at MJ’s sweater to block out the light and the sound of people talking all at once.

“M’fineee. Just lost a battle with some eggs…”

Tony laughed, if only to reign in his panic.

“Nope, that’s it. We’re making a trip to the medbay. C’mon Midtown, you’re getting to know where all the Avengers get patched up when they do something stupid.”

He went to pick his son up, and frowned.

Peter made it a habit to fall asleep on movie night, and Tony often had to carry him back to bed. So yeah, he knew that Peter was pretty heavy with all the muscle he packed.

He wasn’t used to carrying his son as easily as he had done when Peter was a kid.

Peter had been four years old when he first came to live with Tony.

The inventor had learned pretty quickly that his son was not what most physicians would call “healthy”. His little boy carried an inhaler around as if it was a necklace, and he knew exactly what medicine Tony should give him when he had a cough.

Peter would frown at the food Tony would give him if it had any kind of seafood or citrus until his dad learned all his food allergies.

His chubby hands would play with LEGOs in the living room, and the baseball and the glove Tony had bought were left forgotten in the back of a closet.

Still, the mechanic had learned to play with Peter and his LEGOs, with his coloring books and with his chemistry set. He learned that Peter didn’t like airplanes, and preferred his food to come to his mouth via a choo choo train.

He also learned that when Peter was sick, reading him stories about Tesla and Einstein would put him right to sleep. That the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling had to be blue and not green, because green gave his kid headaches. That Peter’s Captain America onesie was his favorite and he only wore it after a particularly rough night when his coughing fits wouldn’t let him sleep.

He learned never to watch Bambi or the Lion King when they had a movie night, and that Mulan would put his kid right to sleep.

Still, none of those had worked the night Peter turned five years old.

He remembered it clearly. That night, Rhodey had come to visit his nephew for his birthday, and they had had chocolate cake and a strawberry milkshake for dinner. His kid hadn’t been feeling well that week, so Tony and Rhodes had thought it was for the best to distract him with cake and toy trains and a Disney movie. They had even let him wear his Captain America onesie and have dinner on the couch.

But that night, Peter had woken up his daddy, asking JARVIS to bring him to his room because he wasn’t feeling well. Tony had run to his baby’s room and there he was, tears staining his face and a sweaty forehead that could only mean a fever.

He had gotten Peter out of his onesie, and let him hug the platypus plushie Rhodey had given him for his birthday while he went looking in the medicine cabinet for anything that would help with his fever.

Peter had ended up going back to sleep clutching his plushie in one hand and his dad’s shirt on the other.

It hadn’t lasted through the night, and he had woken up again crying about how his head hurt, and to make it stop, daddy! Hurt bad!

His fever wasn’t going down, and Peter wasn’t keeping down any medicine. His coughs had gotten worse and at one point he had needed to use his inhaler.

That night, Tony panicked.

He couldn’t take his kid to urgent care, or he’d risk paparazzi knowing that he had a son the minute they stepped inside a hospital.

But his baby was crying, and no amount of stories about the theory of relativity were making him feel better.

So Tony held his baby in his arms (and he was so so light) and sat down on the rocking chair Rhodey had given him as a joke. And he sang to his son. He sang every single lullaby in Italian he could remember from when he was a kid himself; and when he ran out of lullabies, he sang Disney songs until Peter finally went to sleep.

“You’re going to be fine, tesoro, you’re going to be just fine. Daddy’s here.”

Peter was not happy at being carried princess-style, and he frowned at his father all the way to the medbay. But Tony didn’t seem to notice, too far gone inside his mind.

Bruce was waiting for them when they got to the medbay, and helped Peter sit down on the table Dr. Cho used to examine him whenever he did something dumb on patrol.

Ned and MJ (and surprisingly, Flash) were right by his side while Bruce went through a routine examination on his nephew. MJ was showing him the sketches she had made of him during the day, and even Peter had to laugh at some of the faces he made when he was sick.

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark-” Mr. Harrington said, wringing his hands nervously, “-I’m required to send Peter to the hospital, or at the very least back home where a guardian can be informed…”

Tony waved him off, though not unkindly.

“It’s fine, teach. Peter’s home, and I’m his dad. You don’t have to worry about school policies.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the room.

Then, Peter groaned, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you actually told them.”

At Tony’s request, the Avengers had come down to the medbay to –according to Tony– entertain their guests until it was time to go home. He bet that the fact that their new tour guides were the Avengers would give those teenagers and their teacher bragging rights for years to come.

Bruce and Tony stayed with Peter while they ran some tests, and Tony had been right in his assumptions. This was no stomach bug.

Someone had actually tried to poison his son.

And he still wasn’t out of the woods.

That evening, after his team had left the Tower and had made him promise that he’d keep them updated in the group chat, Tony went to lay down next to his kid.

Peter had been on and off, waking up from his naps feeling worse and worse until he eventually had to toss his cookies again, before going right back to sleep.

He didn’t wake up until the next morning.

And when he opened his eyes, he saw his dad right beside him, playing with his curls and watching Mulan on his phone.

Peter smiled at him, too out of it to really worry about the fact that he was still sick and that his very scary aunt and uncles were hunting down the guy that had poisoned him two days ago on patrol.

He was, however, very preoccupied by the sight of a familiar hoodie folded neatly at his feet. It smelled like fabric softener and soap, very different from the cologne and motor oil that Peter associated with his dad.

It occurred to him that they had probably needed to wash his hoodie.

So he nudged his dad’s shoulder with his head, and adjusted himself so he could watch Mulan for as long as he could stay awake (which wasn’t very long seeing that his dad was still playing with his hair).

Finally, seconds before he went into dreamland, he murmured into his father’s neck.

“Hey, dad? ‘m sorry ‘bout your hoodie…”

He fell asleep to captain Lee Shang singing I’ll Make a Man Out of You; his dad’s laughter echoing on his ears.

#gift exchange #fic exchange #the friendly neigborhood fic exchange #irondad #spiderson

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