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He can’t sleep.
He might be half asleep, but the pain and his stuffy nose refuse to let him rest. Peter tries to fight them off for hours, only to wake up feeling worse every half an hour.
Groaning, though swallowing the urge to yell in frustration, he gets out of bed to head to the kitchen. Hopefully some hot chocolate milk might help, as Uncle Ben and Aunt May often made for him whenever he got sick.
Peter has no idea what time it is. Everything is pretty quiet… Tony must be sleeping, which is surprising, but it’s a good thing that he’s getting proper rest. And that’s why Peter shouldn’t bother him with this. So, he decides to make the hot chocolate milk for himself.
Problem is, Peter keeps forgetting what he’s supposed to get.
After he gets the glass, he paces for a while before seeing the glass again, and remembering that he needs a spoon. And the chocolate. The teenager tries not to lose his cool, even if it worsens his burning headache.
Finally, he prepares the chocolate milk and puts the glass in the microwave, automatically setting the timer. Peter leans on the counter for support, the bright light probably worsening his weighing forehead. Other than that, Peter feels sweaty and gross, so he takes off his hoodie. Only for him to feel cold all of a sudden, but he refuses to put it on again.
He forgot his phone in his room and he doesn’t want to go all the way back there to get it, so Peter spaces out. He might even feel like he isn’t here…
Eventually, he smells the chocolate milk. And he can still hear the microwave spinning it. How long has it been? A couple seconds? Hours?
When he checks on it, the milk is boiling and spilling everywhere.
“Shit!” Peter curses, immediately turning it off. He yelps when he tries to take the glass, which probably burns his hand. He’s so stupid, why didn’t he take a cup?
What a mess. He has to clean this before Tony sees it. Hopefully he won’t wake up anytime soon. Peter just wishes there wasn’t a fog blocking his brain, so he could do things right.
At the very least, the boy takes a dishcloth not only to get the glass out of the microwave, but also to clean what he can. He forgot to put detergent and a bit of water first, but whatever. Peter cleans the worst of the spilled milk and he throws the dishcloth in the sink for him to wash later (let’s hope he doesn’t forget to do that).
There’s only half of the milk left in the glass…
For some dumb reason, Peter wants to cry.
Because he’s sick? Because he wishes someone else made the chocolate milk for him? Because he misses someone doing that? Why? He’s not a kid anymore. He’s supposed to grow up and handle things himself. And he has no problem doing that.
Oh god, he’s crying. Stop it.
Great, now the snot is going to make everything more gross.
And he can’t stop.
Can someone hold him? Please? He just wants that. Someone to soothe him and reassure him he’s going to be okay.
He’s so pathetic.
“... kid?”
Peter didn’t even sense another presence in the kitchen. He only gives a quick glance to whoever is there. Tony is wearing pajamas (or basically an old t-shirt and sweatpants), and judging by his tone, he sounds tired but worried.
“Mr. Stark! D-Did I wake you up? I-I’m so sorry,” Peter apologizes, only feeling more like shit with his stuffy nose and him desperately trying to dry his tears.
“Are you sick? F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you’re having a fever.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Peter sniffs. “I’m handling it.”
“Peter…” Tony doesn’t have enough strength to lecture him. The boy can still hear it.
“I just… tried to make hot chocolate milk. And I messed it up, ‘cause I feel like shit.” The teen’s hands are shaking, so he puts the glass on the counter before he breaks it. He inhales to filter out the anger, but the tears are burning his eyes. “Like, at first it was just my dumb nose and then everything started aching, but I thought it would go away if I just slept it off. Spoiler alert, it didn’t! I can’t even breathe well. It’s like there’s magma inside me trying to erupt. It hurts. But all I can think of is that I couldn’t make my dumb chocolate milk, and I hate that I’m even angry about that!”
He almost breaks down, figuring it’ll just scare Tony more, or maybe annoy him since Peter is frustrated about something so small. Peter is just being a stupid, whiny kid. He aggressively covers his eyes, both to clean his soaked face, and to make everything shut the fuck up.
“It’s stupid. Stupid. Just- stupid ,” he growls. He sniffs louder this time, since his nose won’t cooperate. “I’m sorry I woke you up with this. It’s fine. You can go back to bed. I’ll just…” he trails off and doesn’t elaborate.
“And leave you sick?” Tony points out how absurd it is to leave him here.
“Maybe, I dunno.” Peter crosses his arms, staring at the floor instead. Anywhere but Tony.
Despite this, the man doesn’t leave. He contemplates, then he approaches Peter slowly.
“I’m not gonna ignore your pain, kid,” Tony insists.
Peter remains avoidant. Though it’s like his mentor is reading him like an open book. Like he has the exact experience to handle this. The teen freezes when he feels two arms gently rubbing his, as if trying to warm them up. Tony must’ve noticed his trembling.
“You can call me when you need me,” the older man reminds him, not in a way to make Peter feel stupid.
“I-I’m not even supposed to get sick anymore. And I’m fifteen, I shouldn’t expect someone to babysit me.”
“Well, kid, superheroes get sick like everyone else. Thor did, Bruce did… even Cap did.” This time, Peter briefly looks at Tony, catching the resentment and grief in his expression. They’re replaced by tenderness. “They’re not stupid or weak for getting sick, and neither are you. And yeah, when we’re sick, we can’t handle things a ‘normal’ person can. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Tony still rubs Peter’s arms, until he squeezes both of his shoulders to reassure him he’s here and Peter’s pain is valid.
“Besides… it’s nice when someone does something kind for us, right? Even something as simple as hot chocolate milk.” Tony smiles, albeit with melancholy. “And I’d be more than glad to do that for you, because it’s important to you, and you’re important to me.”
His thumbs gently soothe Peter’s shoulders, which makes the boy release the tears more naturally, even if he tries not to. This gentle attention, the patience, the careful touches… this is what Peter wanted this whole time, right? This is what he’s been missing?
Peter starts sobbing, bawling. His chest hurts more than anything, more than the fever. When the calloused hand reaches the back of his neck, it pulls him close and Peter embraces it. He doesn’t want to get Tony sick, of course, but he can’t help clinging to his mentor and crying harder because of it. Tony rubs his back up and down, and it’s all so overwhelming. Peter feels so relieved to have this, but he also won’t stop mourning the fact he hasn’t had this in forever.
The loneliness, the longing… they’ve always been here. The sickness makes it all the more intense. Peter hates how clingy this feels like, and yet Tony doesn’t complain at how long it’s taking for the former to calm down. The latter even rocks both of them side to side.
Peter slowly quiets down to shaky breaths as Tony smooths his hair. The man hasn’t said anything this whole time. Peter realizes his shoulder is soaked now, probably filled with snot and tears.
“Sorry I got my germs on you,” the teen mumbles.
“It’s alright, kiddo. Everyone needs a good cry.”
Of course, Tony isn’t mad about it. He gazes at Peter with all the attention in the world. Concern is still there, sure, but he looks more relieved.
“Alright… I’ll get you some chocolate milk, then I’ll see if I have some enhanced medication ready for you. If not I can just make some, won’t take more than ten minutes.”
Peter snickers, “How are you so fast?”
“Well, I’m just that awesome.”
The teenager just rolls his eyes.
“You wanna go back to your room or you wanna stay on the couch?” Tony suggests.
“Couch.”
Peter can walk fine, so Tony rushes somewhere, only to be back with Peter’s pillow and blanket. After that, Tony makes the chocolate milk in no time, carefully handing him the cup.
“Careful,” the man warns him. Peter takes a sip. “How is it? Good?”
Peter hums, pleased. “Amazing.”
“Yeah.” Tony ruffles his hair. “I’ll be right back, okay? Call me if you need.”
“Okay.”
Obviously, Peter doesn’t mention it with how much Tony helps, but he does miss Tony while he’s gone. He already misses his presence and the soft touches. He’s definitely being needy, so Peter just stays quiet, ignoring his uneasiness.
Thankfully, Tony keeps his promise and returns with a pill and a glass of water that he got from the kitchen.
“This one should help with your fever. And luckily it’s also decongestant. You might feel sleepy,” Tony describes. He hands Peter the pill for him to take it, then the water to swallow it. Feels like taking any other normal pill, really.
Peter goes back to his chocolate milk, feeling its warmth inside him, which isn’t the bad kind like he was feeling earlier.
“If you feel any other side effects, you let me know. If you don’t feel better by tomorrow, we’ll figure things out, okay?” Tony smooths Peter’s hair, less teasingly.
“Okay, Mr. Stark.” Peter tries not to melt at the touch. He feels so embarrassed about his clinginess.
He finishes the chocolate milk all too quickly, because it’s just this good. Maybe it’s because Tony made it. Peter has some good memories of the past, of when things were fine, and he felt loved… times when he didn’t screw things up.
The bad spiraling thoughts are going to consume him again, and Tony seems to detect it since he stretches an arm for Peter to lie down against him. The teen just gives in and relaxes with Tony holding him. He can sense his mentor smiling at him in the meantime.
“Hey, kid?”
“Hmm?” Peter looks up.
“Whenever you feel bad in any way… you can always count on me.”
“Okay.”
“And when you need a hug, you can tell me, too.”
Peter blushes, not just due to the fever. “You… don’t mind me being clingy?”
“Of course not. I once read that the recommended amount of hugs per day is eight. For maintenance, at least. And twelve for growth.”
The boy snorts. “That’s a lot.”
“Yeah. But you definitely deserve more hugs, kid.”
“I guess so.”
Tony squeezes him a little, without it being suffocating.
“... I really hope I don’t get you sick, Mr. Stark,” Peter sighs.
“As long as this makes you feel better, I don’t mind, Pete. No one deserves to be sick and be left alone.”
Again, it seems to come from experience.
Peter doesn’t ask for more details.
He does want to apologize again for interrupting Tony’s already wild sleep schedule. But he knows Tony won’t mind.
“Thanks,” Peter says instead.
Tony adjusts the blanket so it covers him more properly.
“Of course, kiddo.”
It could be a plethora of things. It could be the chocolate milk that always calms Peter down. It could be the blanket. It could be Tony cuddling him, making sure nothing is going to tear them apart. It could be his patient words. Or all of these things combined. Either way, Peter is drifting off to sleep, knowing Tony will be here in the morning.
That’s really the only reminder he needs.