Disclaimer: I don't own The Amazing Spider-Man or any of the characters featured in this story. I write this purely for the entertainment of myself and others.
A/N:
Today's chapter is a bit short, I know, but I just felt I should follow up on Peter's little adventure from last chapter.
Also, I'm thinking at this point that the next chapter will be the last, but fear not, for I've got another little story in mind that should be chock full of Gwen/Peter fluff (if I actually get around to writing it).
Enjoy!
Having fallen asleep with ease shortly after his ended phone call with Gwen, Peter Parker was surprised to be awoken in the middle of the night for no identifiable reason except to cool down, his limbs suddenly feeling leaden with an energy-sapping heat and entirely soaked by the sweat leaking out of every single pore. His room was stifling.
The only thought to cross his mind, even when he peered over to read the digital 4:32 on the screen of his alarm clock, was that he needed to get someplace cool, like, now, or else. Or else what, he didn't care to consider, even when his tired legs initially refused to function when he made to get out from under the covers; all he knew was that he couldn't be here anymore, and so as soon as he physically could, he gripped his pillow in one hand and made his way as quickly as he could out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the living room.
Once there, he curled up on the sofa with the aforementioned pillow and fell quickly asleep, not even considering his actions until he was awoken much later that morning by Aunt May.
"What in the world are you doing down here, Peter?" she asked, eyes wide and worried to find her nephew shivering and sweating on the couch before he'd usually even rise for school. "Why aren't you in bed?"
"Too hot," was all he could choke out past chapped, cracking lips, only half because he really had no idea why else he could be down here and not tucked safely into bed where Gwen Stacy had left him. His mind felt more sluggish than he could ever recall it having felt in his seventeen years of genius-intellect.
"Honey," Aunt May said, approaching where he lay with one hand stretched tentatively towards his face, "It's very cold in your room, just like you like it. If anything, it's warmer down here."
"S'hot everywhere," whined Peter, hardly understanding a word she said. "Like a sauna. How have we lived this long?"
Aunt May crouched down beside the couch, then, and pressed her hand to Peter's cheek, and then to his forehead. "Oh, Peter," she said after some moments of somber consideration. "You're positively roasting."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," he said, misunderstanding but making no objection when she exited the room and returned minutes later with the thermometer. He didn't even need to be asked to open up and lift his tongue, and even fell into an uneasy sleep in the minutes they waited for the reading.
"103.8," read Aunt May in alarm, effectively waking Peter and causing him to squint around in askance. Apparently in his fevered daze, he'd forgotten to travel with his glasses. "How could you have gotten this sick overnight?"
It had been a rhetorical question, but Peter responded all the same with a jesting, "I competed in a triathlon last night." Aunt May shook her head, not appreciating humor at such a time. "Should I not have done that?" Peter added, goofy smile splitting his features until his laughter turned into a particularly bad bout of strident coughs.
Aunt May had every intention of calling an ambulance just then (you can't be too careful, she thought), when a knock sounded at the door and she rushed to let Gwen in out of the cold.
"Good morning," said Gwen brightly, smile faltering when she saw the look on Aunt May's face. "What's wrong? Is he okay?"
"His fever climbed overnight," explained Aunt May, leading Gwen swiftly to the living room. "It's nearing 104. I was going to take him to the hospital."
"No!" objected Gwen, knowing that a hospital would be bad news as far as keeping his identity a secret went. "I mean, we can probably get his temperature down ourselves. Would you please help me get him upstairs?" Aunt May nodded her compliance, and between the two of them they were able to get Peter (who was luckily much lighter than you'd assume, even considering that most of his strength was due to the bite) up the stairs and into the bathroom, whereupon Gwen ran a lukewarm bath for the dozing teenager.
"Okay," said Gwen when the tub was half-full. "I guess..." she trailed off, trying to take an inconspicuous peek under his shirt to check that he wasn't in his Spider-Man suit. "I guess we should get him undressed."
Aunt May didn't even question the suggestion, and immediately set to work stripping Peter down to his grey boxers before helping Gwen direct him towards the tub.
It was a struggle (to say the least) to get a feverish super-teen into a bathtub of coldish water with him fighting non-stop, but it was a feat the two women eventually managed regardless of Peter's objections, and after what felt like an eternity of watching the boy sulk in his now-soaked boxers, they took his temperature to discover it had dropped to a more-manageable 102.6.
They allowed him to get out and dry off, then, and a few moments later he was wrapped in a large towel and shivering profusely while water collected around his feet. Gwen checked her watch around this time, and exclaimed, "oh!" when she realized she was running late for school.
"I've gotta get going!" she told Aunt May, who was using another, smaller towel to dry Peter's hair a bit. "I'm sorry to just run off like this, but I don't want to be any later than I already am!"
"No worries," assured Aunt May, rubbing Peter's towel-clad back gently. "You've done more than enough already. Thank you so much."
"It was no problem, really," said Gwen, and then bid them farewell.
"Alrighty, then," said Aunt May when she'd gone. "Let's get you dressed and back in bed, shall we?" And that's just what they did.
Aunt May led the way to Peter's smallish bedroom and allowed him to sit on the bed while she searched his closet for something clean to wear, eventually bringing him a pair of plaid pajama pants and an old t-shirt of Uncle Ben's and grumbling about how he really needed to do some laundry. From there, the next issue was trying to convince May to let him dress himself, which he managed after only a few minutes of quiet arguing.
Once he was dressed and no longer liable to shiver himself to pieces, Aunt May led the way downstairs where he'd decided to sleep for now (this time bringing a blanket and his glasses) and in a matter of minutes, he was sleeping soundly on the sofa with the comforting sounds of Aunt May cleaning in the background.
Thanks for reading, and don't forget to R&R! xoxo