Chapter 10- The Sickness
TUESDAY AFTERNOON
Tony's back would not forgive him in the morning, but he didn't care. That's what happened when you carried a teenager. The little group sat on the floor and watched him as he walked away —concern in their eyes. These people really cared about Peter, he thought. They had sat on the cold hard floor and watched over him. And he was glad they were there when he couldn't be. Well, except Flash.
Happy was waiting outside by the car when he caught sight of the pair. He rushed to open the back-door sensing urgency. Tony walked up to meet him and began to detangle himself from Peter so he could give him to Happy or put him down entirely. He had to get into the car before he could take him back. But Peter was not having it, he woke up the instant Tony tried to put him down. But he was not entirely lucid and trapped in his own mind. All he knew was that Tony was leaving him.
He whined and tried to tangle himself around Tony even more. Were they in danger? Was someone trying to take Mr. Stark away from him? …What if Mr. Stark was leaving him on his own volition? He attempted to cling tighter, slightly worried that he might crush his hero. When Happy noticed this, he sprung into action. He cared for Peter and he knew the kid was in a bad spot, but his top priority was to keep Tony Stark safe. And a child or not, Peter had the strength to suffocate Tony Stark.
The child had managed to wrap both his arms and legs around Tony, clinging to him like an octopus, but Happy found a way in and wrapped his own arms around the kid's torso effectively ripping him off Tony. He wondered how he had the strength to pull off an enhanced being such as Peter, but he noticed the kid was extremely light. When was the last time he'd eaten? And was he getting enough to keep himself healthy? Especially with an enhanced metabolism like Peters, the kid needed a lot of food to keep up with his strength.
Happy was holding him around the chest, locking his hands together to keep Peter from escaping. But once again, Peter was having none of it. He kicked and scratched and pulled—trying to get back to his mentor. The kid was just short of screaming and Happy really didn't want that to occur. Tony was standing there, watching Happy in fascination.
"How are you doing that?"
"What?", Happy asked. Did Tony not realize that he was struggling here?
"He's extremely strong. Can carry a bus. And yet, you've somehow managed to hold him back."
Tony studied what he was seeing, Happy did look like he was having a hard time, but he hadn't let go yet. Peter, himself looked like he was getting worn out, slowing down his fight and becoming out of breath. He frowned, he'd never known Peter to ever get out of breath. He shook his head, now was not the time; and sat down in the back of the sedan.
"Give him to me." he said putting his arms out expectantly—as if he could possibly carry the kid again without hurting himself.
"Thank god."
Happy replied, relieved, and dragged Peter up to the car, pushing him into Tony and shutting the door. Peter tumbled into the back seat after roughly being tossed in; Tony was not able to catch him and put his arms down. Tony settled himself in before holding one arm out and looking out the window nonchalantly. Peter looked at him confused before putting two and two together. He reorganized himself into the seat and scooted closer to Tony who wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulders. Peter pulled his legs to his chest and cuddled into his mentor's side, content to be at least half-held. Happy watched the two get settled in the rear view mirror before beginning to drive. It would be a long way to the compound.
Three hours later Peter was fast asleep tucked into Tony's side and Tony wondered if getting out would be a repeat of earlier. But the transfer went smoothly. Happy took Peter, who was too out of it to notice and Tony got out of the car. This time however, Tony could not hold his Spiderling again, his joints would not allow it and Happy carried him instead. Tony led them into the compound and wondered what was going on with Peter, the kid was light, weak and his senses hadn't even woken him up when Happy took him from the billionaire. He wondered if he should get medical involved.
He led them into Peter's new bedroom and Happy laid the child onto the bed. Tony wasted no time covering him up in the blankets. Happy removed himself to go properly park the car after finding no danger. Tony, too, left the room after turning out the lights and closing the door. He walked in to the spacious living room and pulled out his phone. He had to call May. There was no answer, so he left her a voicemail then went to his lab after telling FRIDAY to alert him if anything happened.
Peter was standing in the middle of the street. He saw Mr. Delmar's shop up in flames and he ran like a shot to jump into the wreckage.
"Mr. Delmar?" he called, but there was no response.
"Mr. Delmar? Can you hear me? Where are you?" he tried again, but there was no answer once more. He coughed into his sleeve and his eyes watered.
There was a loud scream and Peter rushed to the back of the shop. On the floor faced down, was a burning corpse, it's flesh smoking and blackened. Peter gasped then coughed and gagged as he breathed in the smell of the cooking body. The head of the corpse turned and looked at him, the skin and muscles burning into blackened char. He screamed jumping backwards, as terror of the animated corpse filled him. It screamed back and Mr. Delmar's voice came out.
"Why did you let this happen to me, child?", it asked.
Peter wheezed, the smoke entering his lungs. He coughed hard, his chest feeling tight and backed into a shelf, fear overwhelming him.
"How could you do this to me? Why won't you save me? Help me, boy!" The skull yelled. The flames behind Peter grew larger and he could hardly breathe.
"Help me! Why won't you save me?"
Peter didn't know what to do, besides, there was nothing he could do for Mr. Delmar, the man was char. So, he turned and ran out of the shop leaving the corpse shrieking behind him.
"Save me! Save me, you wretched boy! Save me, you insolent freak! You disgusting mutant!" it yelled. And Peter didn't look back.
When he reached the street, the sky had turned dark with clouds and suddenly it was raining. But it wasn't raining water, it was raining blood. He felt sick to his stomach, his clothes and hair slick with the dark red fluid. The street began to fill and over an inch of blood littered the street like a gruesome kiddie pool. His stomach lurched painfully. The warm blood-rain making him feel extremely hot and nauseated.
A gunshot rang out and he froze before his hero instincts kicked in running towards the sound, blood splashing up and onto his jeans as he went. It led him to an alley way. And there laid the homeless man, a bullet in his brain, and the woman sitting against the wall with a melted face.
"Oh god." She said, blood out spilling from her teeth.
"Why didn't you save me?" she asked.
Peter started running again. "Help me, Freak!" she yelled after him, but Peter only ran faster.
He tripped and landed in the blood, he quickly got up into a sitting position and noticed that he had tripped over someone. Someone who was lying in the street. He crawled over to it, to try and help, but there was no pulse. Blood gushed out of the corpses' chest to join that which was rushing through the streets. He scrambled back when the corpse spoke.
"Peter, my nephew." It said.
And Peter noticed it was Ben.
"Where have you been? I've been waiting for you. I need help. It hurts—I—I'm dying. I need you." Peter shook his head in terror, his face turning pale.
"Save me Peter. Please, help me." The corpse reached out towards him, it's face wet from the rain.
Peter scooted back until he could no longer, his hands scraping on the sidewalk until he reached a wall, it wasn't nearly as far as he wished he was.
"Peter, save me." It wheezed.
Peter shook his head again curled up against the brick, covering his face with his arms. The blood continued to rain down on him sticking his clothes to his body, seeping into his shoes, and matting his hair to his forehead. He felt so impossibly hot and his stomach lurched.
His eyes flew open, he sat up quickly, sweating but shivering at the same time. Only to immediately throw up onto the blankets.
Tony was in his lab working on blueprints for the Mark 50 when FRIDAY alerted him to a detected stress in Peter's room. He rushed into the elevator and onto the correct floor, cursing how large he had made the compound. He opened the door and immediately regretted it, the smell of sickness hitting him. He looked towards the massive bed and saw Peter vomiting onto the previously clean sheets.
"Holy shit!" Tony exclaimed and ran into the connected bathroom to grab the trash can, rushing to put it under Peter's mouth just as another round of sick poured out. Tony really did not want to see this and turned his head away, still holding the bucket for the sick child.
Peter coughed, spitting then moved away from him. He trembled and looked immensely pale. Tony grimaced.
"Alright kid, you done?"
Peter only nodded.
"Okay, uh, let's get you out of that mess…" Tony said, half- dragging Peter out of the bed.
Peter simply complied, feeling overwhelmingly battered and cold now that the sweat had begun to cool. He shivered, his teeth slightly clacking together. Tony noticed then put his hand on Peter's forehead.
"Well, you're definitely sick, high fever too. Didn't know you could get sick, but you just had to prove me wrong didn't you?" he asked. "Maybe I should take you down to medical…"
Peter looked at him with glassy wide eyes and shook his head with a burst of clarity.
"No, no, no, no- no medical."
"Kid, I don't know how to do this kind of stuff…" Tony frowned, removing his hand after Peter grimaced from the cold.
"No medical. I want you to do it." Said Peter, slowly losing the previous alertness.
Tony rolled his eyes, he could never say no to the boy. He then attempted to continue leading Peter by the hand to the on-suite.
"Fine, but if you get any worse, we're going. And FRIDAY, I need you to call someone to clean this mess up as soon as possible."
"Will do, boss."
"Thanks. And can you order some ginger ale and crackers while you're at it? I think we're out."
"Yes, sir."
Tony turned on the bathroom light and Peter squinted, why were they in a bathroom? He didn't need to go.
"Yeah, well, squirt. You're still in your school clothes and covered in vomit. You might not need to pee, but you, one hundred percent, need to shower. I'm not letting you into my beds like this. Besides, we need to get that fever down. As much as you and I are going to hate this, I'm going to have to stay here to make sure that happens and so you don't slip in shower in this deliriousness you have going. Sit down on the ground and I'll go get some clothes for you to change into."
Tony left after pushing down on Peter's shoulders until the kid was sitting on the tile. Peter was slightly annoyed that Tony didn't trust him to even stand and wait, but also grateful he didn't have to take care of himself, he felt really awful. Suddenly, Tony was back with spare pajamas and a towel laying them on the counter.
Peter watched him confusedly from the floor and shivered. How was he so quick? Was Tony a mutant, too? A freak—like he was? Were he and his idol the same? Tony sat down on the lid of the toilet.
"Mr. Stark? Are you super fast? Do you have powers too, and you never told me?"
"What? No—Damn kid, how high is this fever?"
Peter tried to hide his disappointment but failed miserably. Tony looked at him in concern for a moment, but it passed.
"103.5 degrees Fahrenheit. He is slightly delirious due to the fever. Medical assistance is advised." Stated FRIDAY helpfully.
"Jeeze," Said Tony, "You never do things halfway, do you kid? At this point, I'm probably talking to myself."
Peter said nothing and looked at him, confused. Tony sighed reaching forward and taking Peter's shoe. He began unlacing it.
"You know, you really should learn to tie your shoes properly. Who taught you to do this? It's shameful, really. When you're feeling a bit better, I'll show you."
He tossed the shoe aside then began on the other.
"This is ridiculous." He said, pulling at the stubborn knot. "Well, actually I don't know what's more ridiculous, me thinking you might actually be listening or you tying your shoes like this. Who does this?" he said, frustrated. In the end, he simply pulled the shoe off, tossing it with the other.
"You know, you could be more helpful." He told the boy, but Peter stayed quiet. Tony turned on the shower head to spray lukewarm water.
"You never shut up—I don't know if I like this change or not." He jibed then pulled off Peter's pants, shirt and socks. He left the boxers on to keep what was left of Peter's shattered dignity.
"Yeah, we're going to leave it at that." said Tony, then held out his hands.
"Come on, up you go. I refuse to carry you anymore today." Peter looked up, confused.
"Peter's internal temperature is rising. Currently, 104 degrees. Medical attention will soon be required." Stated FRIDAY.
"Alright, Pete, that's almost emergency room temperature. Now, I know you really hate going to medical so you're going to have to help me out here. Come on." Peter complied and reached up grabbing his arms and pulling himself to his feet.
"I don't want to go to medical…" he said drowsily.
"And we might not have to. Alright, in you go." Replied, Tony helping him into the spray and sitting him down on the tub floor. As soon as the cool water hit him, he instinctively tried to get out.
"Cold."
"It's not that cold, Pete. Besides, we have to get that fever down. You don't want that big brain of yours to cook." Replied Tony pushing him back in. Peter shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, his skin covered in goosebumps. After a few minutes of watching Peter violently tremble of cold in the cool spray, FRIDAY alerted them.
"Internal temperature has lowered to 103 degrees."
"Alright then, time to get out." Said Tony turning off the water. "Let's go." Peter wasted no time in standing from his position of leaning against the side. He almost slipped in the slick tub, crashing into Tony who caught him.
"How did I know that would happen?"
"Sorry…"
Tony only sighed in exasperation and set Peter on the lid of the toilet, tossing a towel on his head and rubbing it for good measure. Peter pulled it off, annoyed as his hair curled.
"Okay, I'm going to wait for you out here now that you're more awake; get dressed."
Peter did so then shuffled out in a slightly large shirt and pajama pants. They obviously belonged to Tony. His stomach flip-flopped again and he rushed back to the toilet before violently bringing up bile and water.
"Oh, ew. You're back at it again?" asked Tony, walking into the bathroom.
Peter didn't reply only heaved. Tony grimaced in disgust.
"I'm going to go get that ginger ale, you just continue… that…" he said, stepping back into the hallway.
When Tony returned, Peter was no longer being sick but laid his warm cheek on the cold plastic of the toilet seat.
"Ew, that's somehow worse. Come here." he told the sick boy. Peter watched as the inventor sat with his back against the tub then scooted towards him.
"Lay down." Tony demanded, patting his lap. Peter complied, laying down on the cool tile with his head pillowed on the man's thigh. Tony reached over him and grabbed one of Peter's discarded shoes.
"Now," he said, setting the shoe on his other thigh, "I'm going to show you how to properly tie a shoe."