Something ghosted over his forehead and let out a quiet beep, dragging him back to awareness. The hand shaking his shoulder made him open his eyes.

"Hey kid. Wake up for me." Tony whispered.

"Hm?" He was too tired and his throat hurt too much to form words.

"You need to drink something or you're going to get dehydrated." Tony held a bottle of uncapped blue Gatorade out near his nose as if he was trying to entice him with it.

Peter groaned.

"Yeah I know. But as soon as you drink this and take some more super pills you can go back to sleep."

Peter managed to push himself up to a sitting position, entire body aching in protest at the movement. He took the offered Gatorade along with the pills and drank them down with a few large gulps. But when he tried to hand the bottle back, Tony wouldn't take it.

"Try to finish it." The man said.

Peter gave him a put upon look but sighed and kept sipping at it.

"What time is it?" He asked. Even though his throat hurt, he preferred trying to talk than sitting in silence as Tony watched him drink. Plus, the pile of stuff on his nightstand seemed to have multiplied two fold since he'd last been awake, obscuring his clock.

Tony glanced at his watch. "Almost two. Actually, we should try to get some food in you too while you're awake."

Peter made a face. "I'm not hungry."

"Tough. You're eating something."

Peter gave him his most pitiful puppy eyes but Tony just scoffed.

"Yeah that's not going to work on me. I've had five years of practice saying no to Morgan, and I hate to tell you kid, but she does that look way better than you."

"Does not." Was the most mature response he could muster.

Tony smirked and nodded toward the half empty bottle in his hands as he stood. "Finish that. I'm going to go warm up some soup for you."

Peter glared at the empty doorway the man had disappeared through as he downed the Gatorade. He set the empty bottle down on the little space left on the nightstand and tried to decide if he felt strong enough to get up. He needed to use the bathroom. And it'd be great if he could brush his teeth or even take a quick shower. But he wasn't sure if he could handle standing that long with how bad he felt.

Still, he'd never know unless he tried. He tossed the covers back and hauled himself to his feet, pausing for a few seconds to acclimate as his legs shook unsteadily under him. He shivered. Being out from under the warm covers sucked. He took a step and didn't fall on his face, so he took another, and eventually managed to make it to the bathroom. After he brushed his teeth he didn't feel like he was about to collapse, so he decided to risk taking a quick shower.

He grabbed some clothes out of his dresser. Tony still wasn't back, and he could hear some loud noises and swearing coming from downstairs, so it seemed like he still had some time before the man came back up. Peter walked back into his bathroom and turned the shower on. He stepped under the spray and immediately started shivering. Shit. He tried turning the temperature up to borderline scalding, but it didn't seem to help much. He lathered up and rinsed off as quickly as he could, probably one of the fastest showers he'd taken in years.

He turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing a towel as violent tremors wracked him. He dried off and hurried to get dressed. He managed to slip into his boxers but as he finished pulling his sweat pants on, his head spun. Oh shit. He really needed to sit down. Just for a second. Or he was going to pass out. He closed the toilet seat lid and sat, hanging his head between his knees to try to banish the lightheadedness.

"Kid?" Tony knocked on the door. "I have your soup ready."

Even though the last thing he wanted to do was eat, maybe it would warm him up. He shook, freezing, shirtless with drops of water dripping from his hair down onto his chest and back. He shouldn't have hung up the towel so soon.

"Pete? You all right in there?" Tony knocked again.

Peter knew he should answer but he was too focused on trying not to pass out. Another few seconds passed and Peter tried to take some deep breaths to banish the dark spots dancing across his vision.

"If you don't answer me in the next five seconds, I'm coming in. Last warning." Tony said.

But Peter didn't have the air to waste to reassure him. If he interrupted his breathing to answer, he might hit the floor.

"That's it. I'm coming in. I hope you're decent." Tony said as the bathroom door opened even though Peter was pretty sure it'd been less than five seconds.

"Shit." Tony swore as he rushed to his side. He knelt in front of him and gripped his shoulders. "What's going on kid?"

He figured it was safe to try to talk now that Tony had a good hold on him. If he passed out now, he'd topple into the man instead of the hard tile floor.

"Dunno." He scrunched his eyes closed. "I just got really dizzy."

"Ok. Well it's good you sat down then. That was good. Good thinking." Tony sounded anxious. He rambled when he was anxious.

"Is this helping?" Tony asked, and Peter knew he meant the position he was in.

"Maybe. I don't know. I still-still feel like I'm going to pass out." He said almost breathlessly.

"Ok well I got you." Tony squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. "I got you, just in case. So let's just sit here for a minute. See if it gets any better."

Violent tremors wracked his body and his teeth chattered.

Tony let go of one of his shoulders, but he kept a vice like grip on the other, as he twisted around. Peter couldn't see what he was doing but he figured it out a second later when the fluffy towel settled over his head and Tony started rubbing his hair dry.

"A wet head probably isn't helping." Tony grumbled. "It's got to be the worst thing for you right now."

At this point, Peter really had to agree. As nice as it felt to be clean, it really didn't seem worth it now. The water had leeched any warmth from him.

"Feeling any better?" Tony asked once he'd finished drying him off as well as he could.

"Maybe." Not really.

"Think we can try to get your sweatshirt on?"

"Yeah." Peter agreed weakly. He didn't know if he could do it, but he really wanted the warmth of the Stark Industries sweatshirt.

"All right. Here we go." Tony levered him by the shoulders to sit up and they managed to get the hoodie over his head and through his arms before the black dots returned.

Peter tried to will them away, but it didn't work. They grew to encompass his entire vision as loud static and ringing filled his ears and he went boneless and tipped forward. But he hadn't completely lost consciousness yet because he distantly felt himself fall against Tony.

"Shit. Ok. I got you. I got you." He heard the man say as he caught him.

And then everything went black.

He came to with a miserable groan.

"Hey kid, you back with me?" He heard Tony's voice ask.

He pried his eyes open. He was lying on the hard bathroom floor with his feet propped up on the tub ledge and Tony leaning over him.

He frowned.

"Wha?" He didn't even know what question he was trying to voice.

"You're back." Tony sounded relieved as he ran a comforting hand over his hair. "You're all right."

"What…what happened?" He licked his lips as he tried to remember but his brain hadn't quite caught up yet. He'd been…showering? Oh god. Had he biffed it in the shower? Was he naked? He glanced down. No. Thank god. That would've been mortifying.

"You took an impromptu nap." Tony answered. "Don't worry about it."

It all came rushing back.

"Oh god." He covered his face with his hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Tony brushed off the apology. "You're fine. You feeling better?"

"I think so?" It was hard to judge being flat on the ground.

"Want to try sitting up?"

He thought about it for a second before he nodded.

"Let's take it nice and slow." Tony said as he put an arm under his shoulders and started helping him sit up at a practically glacial pace.

But it seemed to work. He didn't feel dizzy and the black dots didn't make a reappearance. He tugged his feet off the tub ledge. Maybe he was ok.

Of course thinking that was his downfall.

Something worse happened. The previous dizziness had been replaced by mouth watering nausea.

Tony must've seen something on his face because he gripped him tighter and asked, "What? What's wrong? Do you need lie down again?"

Peter swallowed hard. No no no. He would not do this. He would not puke in front of Tony Stark. He refused. He was going to make his body listen for once.

It didn't listen.

He let out a distressed noise and threw himself at the toilet, opening the lid just in time. He gagged. Nothing came up at first.

"Oh kid." Tony said sadly and rested a hand between his shoulder blades.

Peter really wished this wasn't happening. He gagged again and this time an impressive amount of blue Gatorade erupted from him into the toilet.

"You're all right." Tony said softly as he rubbed his back.

He managed to take a few breaths before he gagged again and threw up even more Gatorade into the toilet bowl. Oh god. So gross.

"M'sorry." He mumbled before he was puking again.

"Nothing to be sorry for." Tony said. "I'm sorry you're sick."

He groaned and then gagged again.

"Shouldn't've drank your stupid blue Gatorade." He complained and Tony let out a short, surprised laugh.

"Sorry kid. We probably should've gone a little slower with the fluids. I didn't know your stomach was bothering you."

"It wasn't until now." He bemoaned. "I blame the synthetic coloring."

Tony snorted again.

The mood immediately sobered when he threw up again. And again. Until finally nothing came up and the heaves ceased. He spit into the toilet, trying to rid the foul taste from his mouth, before reaching out to flush it.

"You done?" Tony asked, still a comforting presence behind him. Part of him was glad the man was there and had stayed and another part of him was thoroughly embarrassed.

"Think so." He mumbled and sat back. He watched through hooded eyes as Tony stood and wet a wash cloth in the sink. The man knelt down in front of him, knees cracking, and wiped at his face with it.

"I'm ok." He half protested the babying.

"Clearly." Tony said as he tossed the wash cloth into the sink.

Peter didn't argue for once.

"Let's get you back in bed." Tony said as he placed Peter's arm over his shoulders and helped him stand. The two of them somehow managed to stumble back to his bed without him wiping out. Peter was impressed because his legs didn't seem to be working. They were like two al dente noodles trying to support him.

Tony grunted as he maneuvered him into bed. Peter wasted no time crawling under the warm covers. The rigors hadn't abated.

"I got to say kid, when you get sick, you go all out." Tony said.

He groaned pitifully in response and tried to bury his face in his pillow. He just wanted to sleep again.

"Wait." Tony pulled at his shoulder. "Don't sleep yet. You need to try to eat something first."

He jerked his head from the pillow and gave Tony a look of utter disbelief. "I just puked my guts out and you want me to try to eat something? Does Pepper ever actually let you take care of Morgan when she's sick?"

"Cute." Tony said as he gripped the front of Peter's sweatshirt and pulled his overly pliant body up so he was half sitting against the headboard.

"I can't eat right now." Peter protested when it seemed Tony was serious about him eating the soup. The man placed a tray with toast, chicken noodle soup and a glass of water over his lap.

"Just try." Tony said as he sat down on the edge of the bed facing him.

"But—"

"I wouldn't make you if I couldn't already see the outline of every single one of your ribs." Tony said with a heavy look. Peter looked away. Right. Tony had seen him shirtless in the bathroom. Peter honestly didn't know what he looked like. He'd been avoiding mirrors lately.

Tony sighed and said more gently, "You've lost too much weight kiddo. You can't afford to lose any more."

Peter stared despondently at the tray.

"Look. You don't have to eat it all, but you have to try to eat some of it." Tony bargained. Peter could tell he wasn't going to win this one.

He sighed heavily but picked up the spoon and ladled some soup into his mouth. It actually wasn't too bad.

"Did you make this?" He asked in surprise. He ate another spoonful. Now that he was eating, he realized he was pretty hungry. Stupid metabolism.

"Does it taste like I did?"

"It's edible so I'd have to say no." He joked. Tony was a notoriously bad cook.

"Ha ha." Tony gave him a wry look. "Technically it's from a can but I heated it up."

"You didn't burn it. I'm impressed." Peter smirked and ate some more. One time Tony had tried to make spaghetti for him and he'd ended up burning the pasta because he'd forgotten to add water.

Tony rolled his eyes but waited patiently as Peter nearly finished the soup along with half a piece of toast.

"I'm done." He said as he dropped the remaining part of the uneaten toast with a groan. He didn't feel nauseous, but he worried he'd overdone it and it'd make a reappearance later. At least it was all bland food. One time he'd gotten sick after eating super spicy Indian food for dinner, and that stuff had burned coming back up.

"Ok. Good job." Tony took the tray off his lap and placed it on the ground.

Peter sank back down until he was lying flat. He rolled onto his side and shut his eyes as Tony pulled the covers up to his chin, effectively tucking him in.

"Thanks." He mumbled.

"Get some more sleep. You've got nowhere you need to be." Tony said. "Pepper talked to May this morning and explained everything. She had to fly to Denver tonight anyway, so you're staying with us for the rest of the week."

"Ok." He mumbled back. He felt kind of bad for not thinking of May and calling her earlier, but to be fair, he'd had a lot on his plate. He hoped she knew it wasn't because he was still holding a grudge about the whole her and Happy thing.

Tony palmed his forehead again and brushed his hair back. He liked this new, more physically affectionate, Tony. He wondered briefly if the man was going to stay or leave this time, but he fell asleep before he could find out.

The rest of the day passed in a fever haze. Whenever he woke Tony was always there beside him or nearby. They watched movies together. Until he nodded off again. He slept, coughed, shivered, took more pills, and threw up a couple more times, but he managed to keep some dinner down and enough water so Tony didn't threaten to have an IV put in him.

The night was worse. The fever took a solid hold and wouldn't let go. He went from freezing cold to burning hot, kicking off the covers like they were trying to smother him. Then back to unbearably cold again, shivering and whimpering.

The fever, combined with the inherently surreal quality of night, played tricks on his mind. The nightmares plagued him and at times he wasn't quite sure what was dream and what was reality. Lucidity ebbed and flowed.

The only thing he knew for certain was he wasn't alone. There was always someone there whispering words of comfort. Telling him he was all right. That he was only dreaming. Sometimes he was with it enough to recognize that someone was Tony.

Overall it was a miserable night.

When the morning light finally shone through the blinds directly onto his closed eyelids, he scrunched them up tight before opening them and blinking, trying to adjust to the brightness. Something wet and cold rested on his forehead. He frowned and reached up to touch it, recognizing it as a damp washcloth the moment he did. He pulled it off as he sat up, trying to shake off the mental fog and wake up.

The sound of soft snoring caught his attention. Peter glanced to the other side of his bed and saw Tony fast asleep on top of the covers, curled in a ball, clutching at a pillow. He looked exhausted. Peter decided not to wake him.

He tentatively crawled out of bed and made it to the bathroom. He didn't want to jinx it, but he thought he felt a little better than the day before. He chanced showering and managed it without any problem.

When he walked back out, Tony was up and awake, putting clean sheets on the bed.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Peter asked.

"No." Tony answered but didn't elaborate as to what had woken him. "How are you doing?"

"Better I think." He shrugged. He definitely wasn't back to 100 percent but he could stand without passing out. And he wasn't nauseous. The idea of food didn't repulse him. His stomach ached more out of hunger.

"Kind of hungry actually." He voiced the last thought out loud.

Tony gave him a small but pleased smile. "That's good to hear. Strange thought you'd start feeling better today."

"Dr. Strange? When did you talk to him?"

Tony finished making the bed but held back the covers on Peter's side and patted the mattress. Peter crawled in but propped himself up against the headboard instead of lying down.

"He was here last night." Tony answered as he pulled the covers up and palmed his forehead, seemingly satisfied with the temperature he found.

"He was?" Peter frowned. "When? Was I awake? I don't remember."

"I'm not surprised. You were pretty out of it." Tony said. "Your fever spiked and we couldn't get it down, so I called him. He came and did his hand wavy doctor magic thing. Managed to get your fever to break and said you had the flu, but with your enhancements, you should be feeling better in the next day or two, and then he went back home."

"Oh." Tony must've been really worried to call Strange for help in the middle of the night.

Peter shot him a chagrined look. "Sorry."

"Not your fault. Again." Tony ruffled his hair. "I'm just glad you're feeling better. Sit tight while I grab you some food."

"Ok."

Tony was at the doorway when Peter stopped him. He wanted to ask a question that'd been bothering him.

"Um Tony?"

"Yeah kid?" The man paused and turned around, a pleased smile on his face and a slight gleam in his eyes. It was the look he got whenever Peter called him by his first name now instead of Mr. Stark.

Peter toyed with his sleeves nervously. "Did um, did Dr. Strange ever say anything to you about what happened in the alternate reality that I created when I took you?"

"I asked him about it. He said they won." Tony answered. "So don't worry, ok? I'm right where I need to be."

"Ok." Peter whispered.

"You all right?" Tony asked, still hovering in the doorway, looking torn between leaving to get him food and coming back to his side.

He nodded and managed a small smile.

"I'll be right back." Tony said and disappeared.

Peter stared out the empty doorway. He couldn't help but think about the other Peter. He wondered if he'd get the idea to do the same thing. To go back in time and bring Tony forward, from the time before Peter had taken him. But that wouldn't affect his Tony. It'd just create another alternate reality. And then the Peter in that new reality could do the same thing. And on and on and on.

So even though Tony had died, would that ever be the final outcome in any reality that had a Peter in it that refused to accept it? Thinking about it, trying to grasp the concept, boggled his mind. It didn't matter. Regardless of what did or didn't happen in other realities, he had his Tony in this reality. And he hadn't doomed the other reality. Strange had told Tony they'd won. So maybe it was ok for Peter to let himself enjoy it.

A/N: Yep, I'll admit this chapter was entirely self indulgent. Hope you still enjoyed it? We'll get back to the angst soon enough.