Work Text:
Peter knew, from the moment he'd woken up, that he was sick. His eyes were watering, his nose was stuffy, and he had a colossal headache. All he wanted to do was wallow in bed all day. But it was Saturday, which meant it was lab day with Mr. Stark.
So he sighed, closed his phone, and swung his legs out of bed. The rush of blood to his head was dizzying, and for a moment Peter thought he might pass out. But it soon passed, and he was able to make his way over to his closet and pull out a hoodie.
He looked toward the bathroom, considering showering, but he simply didn't have the energy. Instead, he just changed right there, pulling his hoodie over a hopefully clean shirt he'd found in his closet.
Peter emerged from his room and made a beeline for the kitchen, which he found empty. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Part of Peter really wanted a hug right now.
Peter pulled out a box of cereal and poured it into a bowl. He added the milk and brought it over to the table. But the more he looked at it, the less appetizing it seemed. He stood up, taking the bowl with him, and shoved it in the fridge, not even registering the fact that it would be too soggy for consumption later.
He just grabbed an orange from the bowl on the counter and stuffed it in his backpack. Then he raided the medicine cabinet. He found a package of tylenol and downed three pills, not even bothering to get water. It was probably too many, but he didn't care.
Then Peter made his way down all those stairs and finally emerged out of the front of their apartment building. Happy was waiting, the long black car parked neatly on the curb. Peter climbed in and thanked Happy, who started up the car and began maneuvering through the crowded New York streets.
Peter didn't speak, preferring to stare out the window at the cold scenery. Happy glanced back periodically, looking worriedly at Peter, although Peter didn't notice. When they finally pulled up in front of Mr. Stark's house— rather, mansion, Peter opened the door and fled up the path before Happy could even turn off the car.
“Friday, unlock the door please.” Peter mutters, stamping his feet to ward away the cold. The door opens with an audible click, and Peter shoves it open, hurrying across the cold marble tiles to the elevator.
The door opens with a ding, and he steps inside, pressing the button for the 5th floor, where the lab is located. The elevator passes 4 floors of offices and board rooms before finally stopping at the labs.
The door opens and Peter makes his way down the long corridor, passing different labs used by the divisions of Stark Industries. He stops at the final door, right at the end of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he steps inside.
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They've been working in silence for around 15 minutes now. Tony keeps trying to start a conversation with the kid, but Peter's answers are short and clipped.
Tony casts a worried glance over at the spider, observing the clumsy way he moves. There's something wrong, Tony can tell.
“Everything alright over there?” he asks, watching Peter carefully.
“Yeah, it's fine.” Peter's voice sounds stuffy, and Tony narrows his eyes.
“You sure? Are you feeling well?” Peter stiffens. “Um, yeah. I think I got some dust in my eyes– err nose.” Tony sighs quietly. Peter is not the best liar.
“Why don't you go shower. We can work on something a bit less dusty afterwards.”
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Peter agrees. He doesn't know what else to do. Plus, a warm shower should help to stop his shivering.
When he reaches the bathroom on the 7th floor, he finds a clean pair of clothes folded neatly on the counter. Peter quickly undresses and turns the water on hot, enjoying the warmth that spreads over his body.
Once he's cleaned himself off, he steps out of the shower and begins to pull on the clothes. The world is spinning, and he has to pause to catch his breath. Peter is already sleepy from the Tylenol, but something feels off.
Oh No. Did I have a fever?
Peter yanks his shirt over his head and stumbles to the door, pulling it open.
“Mr. Stark!” he calls weakly, feeling faint. “Mr. Stark, please–” His legs give out, and Peter collapses, his world going dark.
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Tony is still in the lab, humming quietly to himself as he tinkers with something. Suddenly, Friday's voice thrums through the room, and Tony jumps in surprise.
“I would like to inform you that Peter's body heat has increased dangerously.”
“What?” Tony asks, shock pulsing through him.
“Peter's fever has reached 105 degrees. The hot water he used to shower has significantly raised his temperature.”
“Oh my God. Peter had a fever? Why didn't you alert me?” Not bothering to let Friday answer his question, Tony runs for the elevator, the lab door slamming shut behind him.
“Where is he, Friday?”
“7th floor, sir.” Tony presses the button for the 7th floor and looks up as the elevator starts to move. “I'm coming Peter. Hold on.”
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Peter wakes up slowly, feeling a cold sensation against his forehead.
“Hey kid. How're you doing?” Mr. Stark is sitting on the couch next to him.
Peter can hear chatter coming from the tv, the familiar sounds of Star Wars: The Force Awakens becoming clear.
“I knew that would get you up.” Mr. Stark smirks, before growing serious again. “Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?”
Peter shys away from his gaze. “I didn't want to ruin lab day.” His voice is scratchy, and hurts his throat.
“You wouldn't have ruined lab day.” Mr. Stark reassures. “The whole point is to spend time together and have fun. I wouldn't have minded chilling today.”
Peter smiles, and Mr. Stark pulls him closer.
“Ack! Mr. Stark! You're going to get sick!”
“I don't mind.” He smiles, and Peter settles into his side, drifting slowly back into sleep.