Pounding headache. Sore throat. Stuffy nose.
He was pretty sure he had a fever too.
Peter muffled a groan into his pillow. Today was not a good day to get sick. He had a Spanish test, a quiz in Chemistry, and had to turn in his English essay about some garbage book he barely paid attention to. With a sigh, Peter crawls out of bed and listlessly makes his way into the connected bathroom to take a shower. It helped clear his nose at the very least, but hiding the rest of his symptoms would be an issue. If his parents noticed his off behavior when he went out to the kitchen to grab breakfast-the thought if food made his stomach churn-he might be able to convince Tony he was fine. Stephen on the other hand...
...he would see through him in a hot minute.
He didn't call himself a doctor for shits and giggles.
Peter scrubs at his face with his towel after he gets dressed, tames the nest of hair on his head, and grabs his backpack on his way out of his room. He slinks into the kitchen and sits on one of the barstools as Tony turns from the cabinet and sets the teen's favorite cereal in front of him. Ignoring the churning of his stomach, Peter pours himself a bowl and painfully swallows each spoonful. It was hell on his throat.
Peter clears his throat. "Either you didn't sleep or you're miraculously up before Mom."
Tony peers at him curiously over the rim of his mug at the boy's hoarseness. "Stephen was up late reading. You know how he is."
"You have no room to talk."
Stephen yawns as he joins them in nothing but pajama pants, and Peter shrinks into himself when his icy blue gaze settles on him. This was it. He failed. Stephen had an uncanny knack for knowing when the Spiderling had something as simple as a tickle in his throat, and his narrowing gaze confirmed his fear. Something quickly followed by a cool hand on his forehead. Peter couldn't help but sigh at the coolness.
"By the Vishanti...go back to bed. Now. Tony, he has a fever."
Peter couldn't really tell you what happened in the following ten minutes. Only that his protests fell on deaf ears and that he suddenly found himself wrapped like a burrito and tucked tightly into bed. He literally could not move.
"It's just a cold! You're overreacting!" He squirms himself out of his burrito form with some effort. "I have tests today!"
Tony pushes him down. "You can make them up. I'll call and let the school know you're sick."
The billionaire pulls out his phone as he sits in the teen's desk chair and props his feet up at the foot of the bed. Stephen hands him a couple of pills specifically made for the vigilante by Bruce, and Peter accepts them in defeat after a second attempt to sit up. Thankfully his parents didn't push him down again. Taking medicine while flat out on his back wasn't easy.
Tony pockets his phone after making the call that Peter didn't even realize he already made. "Lay back down Underoos."
Peter opens his mouth but Stephen beats him to it. "He's fine."
"You know how he is Stephanie."
"I'm sorry, who is the doctor in the room?" Stephen passes the sitting engineer and walks out of Peter's room.
"If we're being literal then me since you just walked out."
The sorcerer rolls his eyes and steps in just enough to grab the front of Tony's and drag him out of Peter's room before closing the door on the surely scheming teen.
"FRIDAY, activate Playpen Protocol."
"Yes Doctor."
The sound of locks echo from within Peter's room and the teen groans loudly.
"SERIOUSLY?!" A couple of coughs. "You guys are the worst."
Tony grins. "Love you too Pete."
"I'll bring you some soup later. Go to sleep." Stephen rubs his eyes and walks back toward the kitchen.
"Did I ever tell you how hot you are when Mama Bear comes out?"
"Tony...you think it's cute when I sneeze."
"Cute, yes. Mom Mode is arousing."
"Insufferable douchebag."
