A/N: Hey guys! I got an amazing prompt from Teenylambofgod on my last lil' sickfic, so you can bet that I'm gonna be using it today! (P.S. Special thanks to everyone else who reviewed!) Oh, and one more thing: if any of you have read my Hamilton fic, I'll Write My Way Out, I promise that I'll be updating soon! It's taking me a lot longer than expected for me to figure out how to write that chapter, but we're getting there! Thank you guys for being so patient. :)
Alright, let's get to it…
Speechless
Peter popped yet another cough drop into his mouth and sighed. The cooling relief lasted but a short moment before the grating, sore feeling in his throat resurfaced. When it had first arisen that morning, he had thought little of it. But as the day went on, it seemed to get worse by the hour, and now he was trying his best not to wince each time he swallowed. He wished he could tell Aunt May, so she could whip up some tonic or whatever she put in her magically throat-soothing tea, but unfortunately she was out of town for the weekend. Instead he was hanging out at the Avengers Tower, popping cough drops like they were candy.
It probably wasn't the healthiest solution out there (or the most practical, for that matter), but what was he going to do? He had a serious track record for being sick at the worst of times, and he didn't want to add to it. So, instead of telling Tony or Bruce that his throat was housing the fires of hell, he stayed relatively silent, only piping up every once in a while to answer a question thrown his way.
But when Clint started joking about Tony being jealous of Shuri's talent, Peter opened his mouth to retort. All that came out, however, was a garbled, strangled little squeak that made all the eyes in the room lock onto his. Peter blushed and cleared his throat loudly, then tried again.
"No…way…on earth." His words grated on his throat painfully, making him wince. Clint's eyebrows shot up.
"Whoa, mind telling us why you sound like you're dying?"
Peter felt his face grow hot as he tried to make out a response. Tony stepped forward and pressed a palm to his forehead, his eyes narrowing as he felt the heat from a fever creeping through his skin.
"Wow."
"It's…" Peter choked out, trying to tell him that it was fine, it was nothing. Tony held up a finger.
"No, stop." he said with a sigh. "Bruce?"
"Yeah." The doctor felt Peter's forehead and smiled wearily at Peter. "Really, bud? Again?"
"That's another one for the record." Nat smirked. Peter hung his head in shame.
"Aw, don't worry, man," Clint said, punching Peter's shoulder playfully. "Go rest for a while and then come back so I can kick your ass in training." Peter couldn't help but smile as he rolled his eyes, as if to say "You wish."
"Alright, Pete, you know what this means," Tony said. "Off to med-bay."
Peter opened his mouth to protest. He couldn't go to med-bay, not when the whole team was here. He was supposed to do stuff with them, not lie around in a bed all day. Nothing came out of his mouth this time, however, only a pressing silence. Bruce tsked at him softly and held out a pocket notebook and pen for him, which he took gratefully. Flipping to a random page, he scribbled furiously, then practically shoved the notebook in Tony's face.
No.
It was underlined threateningly several times. Tony sighed and cocked one eyebrow, studying the kid carefully. Maybe it wasn't fair to leave him locked up in med-bay…he had been extremely excited about his weekend with the team, almost to the point of annoyance. After a long pause, he glanced at Bruce and spoke.
"Fine. But," he added at Peter's look of elation, "Until Bruce is positive that fever's gone, you are to be a permanent resident of the couch." He nodded in its direction. "Got it?"
Peter opened his mouth to speak again.
"Ah-ah-ah!" Tony exclaimed. "Keep the lips zipped, Spidey-pants."
Peter rolled his eyes and nodded. Being confined to the couch was a lot better than a bed in med-bay, after all. At least then he wasn't stowed away from anyone.
"Great! We'll make a movie night out of it." Clint exclaimed.
"I'll make the popcorn." Nat hopped up and left for the kitchen.
Soon Peter was curled up on the couch between Tony and Nat, sipping some honey tea Bruce whipped up that was almost as good as his Aunt May's. He sighed contentedly as Natasha ran her fingers through his hair affectionately, ruffling it up and then smoothing it back down again. He laughed softly at the characters on the movie they were watching, smiling a little when it didn't tear up his throat, and glanced over at Tony. Peter reached for the notebook on the table and scribbled down a message, tearing out the sheet of paper and folding it up. He flicked it into Tony's lap rather indiscreetly. The older man raised his eyebrows at him before unfolding it slowly.
Thank you.
There was a little smiley face next to it. Tony smiled and shook his head, motioning for the notebook. Peter tossed it to him and he wrote back.
Anytime, Underoos.
Peter grinned and turned back to the movie. Maybe being sick again wouldn't be so bad after all…as long as Bruce made more of his tea.
A/N: You GUYS. This one was so much fun to write, not gonna lie. Also, I am convinced that Tony would be totally amazed and proud of Shuri's intelligence, and not jealous in the slightest. (But Clint would definitely tease him about finally being out-smarted for once in his life constantly, because Clint.)
I love writing little fics like these for you guys, and am also in serious need for some new prompts, so send 'em over! Chances are you'll get a little fic written in your honor. (Reviews are also amazing, tbh.) Anyways, that's all I got for tonight, so I hope you enjoyed! I'll see you soon! :)
