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“Mr. Stark?” Peter hesitantly questioned from the edge of the kitchen.
Mr. Stark, hummed, brought his second cup of coffee for the morning up to his lips, and turned toward his name. “Yeah, kiddo?”
“I was just wondering,” Peter began, his body language screaming anxiety. “Do you think I could stay home from school today? I just- I don’t feel good.”
Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow and set his coffee aside. “Trying to skip school, are we?" he teased. "That doesn’t sound like you.”
“No seriously. Mr. Stark!” Peter rapidly replied. “I legitimately don’t feel good, and I already spoke to May. She said that if you confirmed I was actually sick, she’d call me out.”
Tony was mildly surprised. “You spoke to May?” The kid’s aunt had taken off for a grueling conference just a few days prior; which was why Peter was there on a Tuesday morning, to begin with. Of course, he and May both knew the kid was more than old enough to handle himself. They just didn’t particularly like the idea of him sitting alone in the apartment for a week. Turns out that was a good call because once he was actually looking, he realized Peter definitely looked sick. His eyes were glassy, and his face was thoroughly flushed.
“Yeah. I got off the phone with her a few minutes ago, actually,” Peter said, pulling Tony from his thoughts. “I just- I woke up and my throat kind of hurt and my nose was pretty stuffy. It’s probably just a cold or whatever but I’m tired and really don’t feel good. So I called her.”
Tony watched Peter fidget with the hem of his shirt and quirked a half-smile. “So I'm supposed to do what? Take your temperature?”
It was a joke, of course. But taking care of a sick kid wasn’t something he actually had any experience with. It simply wasn’t a part of the unspoken co-parenting arrangement he and May had stumbled into. She had her territory and he had his. Though he supposed there was probably a little gray area in between. And maybe that’s where taking care of Peter while he was sick fell.
Peter shrugged and nodded at the same time. Tony inclined his head once in return. “FRIDAY? You have eyes on the kid’s body temperature?”
“Of course, Boss,” FRIDAY replied. “According to my sensors, Peter’s current temperature is between one hundred and one, and one hundred and one point six degrees Fahrenheit.”
Tony frowned thoughtfully. “When did that happen?” he asked, feeling mildly annoyed. The kid he was temporarily in charge of having a fever sounded like something he should have been made aware of.
“Peter’s temperature began to rise last night around eight,” the AI informed. “It peaked just before midnight at one hundred and two but has come down by at least half a degree since then.”
“And you didn’t notify me, because…” Tony drawled, one hand going up to his forehead while the other drew invisible circles in the air.
There was a brief pause before FRIDAY responded. “My current directives only require me to notify you when Peter is in need of immediate medical attention. A fever below one hundred and three degrees without disorientation didn’t qualify.”
“I guess we’re going to have to work on that,” Tony grumbled under his breath. One deep sigh later, he turned his attention toward Peter. He was going to advise him to go get comfortable. But upon a second glance, he noticed the kid hadn’t actually bothered to get ready for the day at all. He was still in his pajamas with his hair ridiculously askew. “So, I guess you’re free to go back to bed,” he said. “I’ll text May.”
Rather than turn around, Peter glanced toward the living room. “Do you think I could maybe just lay on the couch instead? Please, Mr. Stark?”
Tony bobbed his head and watched as the kid shuffled across the room. A moment later, he topped off his mug and went to sit down in an adjacent chair. Peter asked him if he could watch television. Rather than answer he gently tossed the remote over and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He still needed to text May.
‘The kid’s actually sick,’ he sent, knowing Peter had already filled her in on everything else. She must have been actively waiting for his assessment because his phone buzzed within moments of hitting the send button.
‘I was kind of hoping he was faking it to get more lab time,’ the most recent message read. Tony chuckled quietly as he typed out his reply. That had been his initial reaction as well.
‘Nope. Has a fever and everything,’ he sent. Several minutes passed with no response. A glance at the time offered an explanation. It was after eight and May was likely in the midst of preparing for her day. He was just starting to think that perhaps there was nothing else to be said when another text popped up.
‘I’ll email the school in a minute. Do you think you can handle the rest?’
Tony’s brain stalled for a second or two at the inquiry. Could he handle the rest? Then another quandary arose and he pondered what that even meant. What else was there to handle? Peter was fifteen not five so it couldn’t be much, he immediately reasoned. Which is what led him into typing out a simple, yet semi-confident reply. ‘Of course.’
For the next several minutes, the question of ‘what else is there to handle’ continued to float through Tony’s head. Long enough that he decided it would be beneficial to carry out some brief research; if for no other reason than to ease his mind. He considered asking FRIDAY but quickly decided against it. Peter was right there and really wanted to keep his rare moment of possible ineptitude to himself.
Casually, he typed into his phone’s search bar, ‘How to take care of a sick teenager.’ Although the devices autocorrect, promptly updated the search to ‘How to take care of a sick toddler.’ After noticing the unwarranted correction, he looked thoughtfully at Peter. The kid was lying pathetically across the couch, staring vacantly at some weird-looking cartoon on the television. Suddenly, the new search terms didn’t feel all that far off and he thought to himself, ‘Eh. Close enough.’
Tony clicked through the top three results and carefully skimmed through their contents. It was all fairly similar advice. Adjust the child’s diet to their symptoms, keep the child hydrated, use the correct variety and dose of medication, and encourage plenty of rest. Other suggestions included offering passive activities, comfort items, and an abundance of affection. As Tony continued to read through the details, he began to place an order for any essentials he was confident he was missing. He didn’t bother shopping for medication or activities. The kid was already entertained and there was a selection of medications specifically synthesized for Peter’s needs right there in the building. What he did need were some more appropriate meal options. He added some soup and applesauce into the virtual cart along with a few sports drinks. Then on a whim, he added a soft fuzzy looking brown teddy bear as well.
While waiting for the delivery, Tony leaned into the advice the internet had provided him with. He went to get Peter some enhanced cold medication from the locked box on the medical floor. He carried it up and read the label at least two times before pouring the recommended dose into the tiny measuring cup. He set that along with a bottle of water and a handful of grapes onto a tray to care into the living room.
“Hey, Bud,” he said, thus gaining Peter’s attention. “I’ve got some cold medicine for you. I know it doesn't taste very good, but I brought you some fruit and water to follow it up with. Think you can take that for me?” he asked. When Peter sat up and promptly swallowed the deep red liquid without complaint, he ruffled his hair and told him, “Good job.”
After that, Tony went to obtain a few things from the kid’s room. He returned with a pillow in one hand and a blanket tossed over his shoulder. He set the former at the top of the couch and waited until Peter had laid back down before spreading the blanket out and tucking it around him. He lingered for a moment, placing his hand on Peter’s shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Do you need anything else, kiddo?”
“No, thanks.” Peter smiled faintly and sighed. “I’m good.” Then he went right back to watching whatever it was that was playing on the television.
Not long after, the order arrived. Tony went down to retrieve it and unloaded the majority of it in the kitchen. He stacked the drinks and applesauce in the refrigerator and arranged the numerous cans of soups and boxes of crackers along the counter. When that had all been accomplished, he smiled as he pulled the stuffed bear out of the one remaining bag. Deep down he knew the purchase had been over the top. But that wasn’t enough to temper his enthusiasm as he carried it over to the miserable teenager still lounging across his furniture.
“What’s this for?” Peter asked when a teddy bear was unceremoniously dropped into his hands.
“It’s a teddy bear,” Mr. Stark said, stating the obvious. “It’s supposed to help you feel better.”
Peter lowered his head and blushed at the idea of Iron Man thinking he required a stuffed animal to feel better. At the same time, he was appreciative of the sentimental gesture. “Right. Uh- thanks, Mr. Stark.”
He turned the bear over in his hands. It was small and soft with light brown fur and deep brown eyes. He smiled and inwardly rolled his eyes as he tucked the bear under the blankets and against his chest.
For quite a while, Peter lay there waffling between watching whatever show came onto the screen and dozing off. Whenever he was awake, Mr.Stark offered him a continuous stream of food and drinks. And after a while, it became clear that the medication was definitely carrying out its job. He didn’t feel nearly as miserable. His muscles were less achy, and he could adequately breathe through his nose. He pulled in a deep breath and closed his eyes when he released it. As he did so, he felt a hand fall on his forehead and looked up to Mr. Stark smiling down at him.
“How are you feeling, Pete?” Mr. Stark asked while feathering his fingers through Peter’s hair.
“I don’t know. Mostly better, I guess,” Peter replied because even though the vast majority of his initial complaints had subsided, he still didn’t feel all that great. “My head hurts a little bit.”
Mr. Stark nodded his head and knelt down in front of the couch, thus bringing himself down to Peter’s level. “Why don’t you take a break from the television then, hmm?” he gently suggested. “Want me to read you a book? That way all you have to do is close your eyes and listen.”
“Uh,” Peter replied, his mind going about ninety miles a minute as he tried to decide how to acknowledge that question. He couldn't exactly remember the last time anyone had read him a story but he was certain it hadn’t happened in the last six years. At minimum. “You don’t have to do that, Mr. Stark. I can just go to take a nap in my room,” he rushed out.
Mr. Stark’s face fell for half a second, but Peter saw it. The disappointment was clear, and he felt bad for causing it. “Actually,” he rapidly backtracked. “Maybe- maybe that would be nice too. The book I mean.”
At those words, a wide grin spread across Mr. Stark’s face. Then, without warning, he leaned forward and planted a kiss right in the middle of his forehead. Peter’s first instinct was to reach up to vigorously rub the spot where Mr. Stark’s lips and scratch beard had made contact. Somehow he managed to smother down the urge and smile back instead. They both stood up and reached for the items strewn across the couch. Mr. Stark picked up the blanket while Peter grabbed his pillow and started toward his room.
“Hey, Kiddo! Don’t forget your bear,” Mr. Stark called out, picking up the stuffed animal and tossing it.
Peter caught the bear with practiced ease and wandered into his room. By the time he’d gotten comfortable in his bed, Mr. Stark walked in carrying a handful of books. Peter eyed them with curiosity.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d be into, so I grabbed a few,” Mr. Stark verbally shrugged.
Peter looked through the stack and smiled. Most of them were really old fantasy and science fiction books. A few of them he’d read before. He slowly leafed through the ones he didn’t recognize and settled on one he’d heard of but never actually picked up. Mr. Stark seemed pleased by his choice and set the others aside before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“This okay?” Mr. Stark asked as he kicked his feet up and leaned back on the beadboard.
Peter nodded and settled more deeply beneath the covers as Mr. Stark began to read. After a few minutes of listening, he was a little surprised by how much he was actually enjoying the decidedly childish experience. Mr. Stark’s body was warm beside him, and the sound of his voice was soothing. He found himself gravitating more toward the middle of the bed, sighing happily when a gentle hand fell to the top of his head.
At some point, Mr. Stark must have decided he’d fallen asleep because he set the book aside and started thumbing through his phone instead. Peter didn’t mind. He was content to stay where he was with his eyes closed and his mind wandering. The day had been odd, to say the least. He’d woken up sick and had spent the day being coddled by Tony Stark. Between the constant physical affection, the teddy bear, and the impromptu storytime, he wasn’t really sure what to think. Not that any of those things were completely unwelcome. Just unexpected.
He yawned and rolled over onto his back. Afterward, he felt the bed shift and looked to the side. Apparently, Mr. Stark had dozed off, causing his phone to slip through his fingers and land on the mattress. Peter, not wanting the device to get lost in the sheets, reached over to pick it up. He noticed the screen was still alight but tried not to pay any attention to it. However, something in the search history that was currently being displayed captured his attention.
‘How to take care of a sick toddler.’
Suddenly the entirety of the day’s unusual events made sense. Mr. Stark, in an effort to make sure he was comfortable, had read what appeared to be an assortment of parenting articles. He couldn’t help but giggle as he turned off the screen and set the phone aside.
“Thanks for taking care of me, Mr. Stark,” he whispered. He acquired his bear and settled down beside Mr. Stark. With any luck, his head would feel better after a decent nap. And maybe, just maybe, Mr. Stark would read the next chapter of the book they had started.