A/N: Here it is. The Obligatory sick!fic.
It's, luckily, a Friday evening when the good old Parker luck strikes again. Matt and Foggy are just about to leave for a weekend-long business conference for fancy lawyers and Matt's planning on dropping Peter off at Tony's when Matt stops and says, "Peter might throw up."
"What?" Peter's forehead creases and he says, "No, I feel fine... wait... oh, never..."
He throws up, and Matt is an awful mix between smug and Extremely Concerned.
"Oh, maybe we shouldn't go," Matt murmurs, wringing his hands together, forehead creased in concern. "We can stay back, I mean," he looks to Foggy for support, "It's just an informational meeting, right?"
"Yeah," Foggy is quick to agree, pressing the back of his hand against Peter's forehead, "We really don't need to go, we can totally stay behind and..."
"No," Peter can't help but lean into Foggy's hand anyways. It's comfortable and soft, "You guys need to go. I can take care of myself, it's okay. I probably just ate something wrong, anyway."
Matt knows it's a lie, and he frowns at Peter, who smiles awkwardly back despite knowing that Matt can't see his face.
"Alright, fine," Peter pulls Foggy's hand away from his face and holds it in his hand instead, "Tony will find out if it gets really bad."
"You feel even a little off," Matt answers tightly, "And you call Tony."
"Fine."
Matt cocks an eyebrow.
"Not fine."
Matt crosses his arms over his chest.
"Omigosh, do you want me to tell the truth or tell you what you want to hear?" Peter pouts, pouting.
Matt throws his hands up in the air, "I would rather that you do both, to be completely honest!" He declares, pursing his lips together and narrowing his eyes.
"Well, we both know that it's not happening!"
"Peter..."
"What do you want from me."
"For you to have some self-preservation instincts would be nice." Foggy laughed at that, and Matt shot him a dark glare. "Not helping, Foggy."
Foggy laughed a bit more, and when he stopped, used his free hand to tousle Matt's hair, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that, hearing that from you, of all people..." he laughed a bit more. ...A lot more.
Matt grumbled under his breath and Peter pressed his forehead against Foggy's chest, clearly tired but trying to act like he wasn't.
"Alright, come on, you stubborn mule," Matt turned around and Foggy lifted Peter onto Matt's back, "I'll carry you to Tony's if you're that stubborn for us to leave."
"Sorry," Peter mumbled, pressing his nose into Matt's neck.
"It's not me that has to deal with you all weekend, Pete," Matt answered, amusement colouring his words.
"I'll apologize to Tony," Peter promised Matt's shoulder.
"Please don't," Matt readjusted his grip on Peter's legs, "Being sick isn't something that you have any control over."
"Says Mr. My-mind-controls-my-body," Peter mumbled sassily.
"Shut up," Matt laughed.
"Mm," Peter, oddly enough, did so.
Matt tightened his grip on Peter and frowned, "Hey, Foggy, maybe we should..."
"No," Peter tightened his grip on Matt's chest, "Don't."
Foggy cast Peter a concerned stare, and then lowered his eyes, "Peter..." He began gently.
"You want, go," Peter grumbled.
"But..."
"It's fine," Matt frowned, the edges of his lips twisting and turning downwards, "If we keep arguing, he'll just keep trying to argue back, and we need him to rest. Hopefully, we can just convince him to sleep, and Tony can make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
Foggy laughed, "Our hope of adult responsibility in caring for Peter when he's sick is Tony Stark."
"He cares for the kid," Matt lifted his shoulders into a shrug, "I know that he'll watch over him."
"Yeah," Foggy ruffled Peter's hair, "He's like you, in that way."
Matt was silent, chewing on his lower lip and smiling a little in that funny little way of his, "Well, ah, yeah," he couldn't bite back the smile any longer, "I guess he is."
Peter wakes up to Tony sleeping next to him, a small bauble in hand and a screwdriver beneath his elbow.
Peter debates on whether or not to wake up Tony, but when he realizes that the screwdriver cut into Tony's arm while he was sleeping and that Tony is, in fact, bleeding, he opts to wake him up.
As soon as Tony wakes up, he mumbles, "You okay, kid? FRIDAY, make the kid some," He yawns, fingers brushing against the edges of his upper lip, "tea. That, um, that new one."
"Rosehip tea, sir?" FRIDAY asks, and Tony nods, accidentally gouging the wound in his arm even deeper.
"Yeah. That. Aw man, my arm feels... oh shit," Tony yanks his arm up, examining the wound, "Aw, man. Guess I should get to the med bay. You can just," he yawns again, and then tosses the bauble at Peter, "That can play any Disney movie that you want, except for Pochahontus because that was a stupid movie. Oh, and instead of just a screen, it works like virtual reality, transforming the entire room into the scene of the movie. Pretty cool, eh?"
"Yeah," Peter answers, a bit stunned.
"Yeah," Tony smiles sleepily and then examines the blood covered screwdriver. "Aw, shit. I'm going to go clean up, you play with that while I'm gone, yeah?"
Peter nods quickly, and Tony slips out the door, ruffling his hair with his uninjured hand before wincing and cradling his elbow in his hand.
"Shit," Peter hears Tony mumble as he slips out the door, opening the knob with his injured arm, the other hand covered in blood from applying pressure, "Of all stupid things to do..."
Peter turns around the bauble in his hands while he waits for Tony. It's a small, sleek silver ball, around the size of his fist, fitting comfortably in the palm of his hands.
"Um..." he poked it, and it stayed perfectly still. "FRIDAY? How do I turn it on?"
There's a slight humming sound, and then Friday says, "Just twist it."
"Like..." Peter tries to twist it and fails miserably. When he finds that twisting isn't as easy as FRIDAY makes it sound, he stops for fear of breaking it. "It didn't work, FRIDAY." Yes, he is aware that he is whining. No, he doesn't care.
A bit more of that odd humming sound, and then, almost apologetically, "You may have to wait for sir to return."
"Okay," Peter leans back, and by the time that Tony's returned, he's fast asleep.
When Peter wakes up, Tony wordlessly hands him a cup of warm tea. "Rose hips tea," Tony says, his voice grating through Peter's chest like a cement mixer through a sidewalk. "Good for colds and shit." He paused, "I didn't swear. You never heard that."
"Thanks, Mr. Stark," Peter raised the cup to his lips, and coughed awkwardly, "Um, about this..." He patted around for the bauble, and Tony tapped two fingers against the desk next to Peter's bed.
"You looking for this, kid?" He asked, something akin to amusement dragging through his weariness.
"Yeah, that!" Peter beamed, "Can we watch movies together?"
Something strange flickered over Tony's expression before it quickly smoothed over and he laughed, "What else am I supposed to do with my time? Look at my bills?"
Peter's smile cracked even wider, if that were possible, "Probably," he agreed lightly.
"Well, unfortunately for my bills, I'd rather watch some cheesy cr- movies- with you," Tony grunts, and slides easily onto the half of the bed that Peter's not occupying. "Got anything in mind for the first movie that we're going to watch together?"
The first. Peter's excitement is so palpable that he can almost taste it. "Treasure Planet?" He asks, carding his fingers through Tony's.
Tony blows out a breath through his lips, sighing, "Of course you'd pick the cheesiest one," but when Peter backtracks, Tony is quick to fiercely insist that no, they will watch it. "Jim's relationship with Silvers is pretty cute, isn't it?" Tony murmurs as Peter tucks his head on to Tony's shoulder.
"I guess," Peter smiles slyly, "I think that our relationship is even cuter, though."
Tony turns bright red, and makes a three-clawed symbol over his chest before pushing his hand away, "Nope, nope, nope, I'm not dealing with mushy stuff."
"Mr. Stark," Peter whines, "I'm sick. And I love you. Let me have this."
Maybe Tony feels the same, or maybe it's really just because Peter's sick (though he suspects it may be a mix of both), but he concedes and says softly, "Alright, then you're the Jim to my Silvers?"
"Yeah," Peter glowed, "Can we watch Lilo and Stitch next?"
"Whatever you say," Tony grumbled. "Whatever you want, kid."