Tony woke when Peter did. He knew the exact moment because it was preceded by a soft whimper of pain and a sudden tension in the sleeping form against him.
"Easy."
He had fallen asleep with the arm still resting on Peter and his hand tightened gently, helping the boy find equilibrium in case he was having a bad dream and needed help coming out of it.
"Ow…"
So it wasn't a nightmare, only pain. Stark knew he hadn't tightened his grip enough to be the cause of that pain.
"Peter."
He groaned and turned, burying his head against Tony's side, trying to smother the pain that was coursing through him, but only succeeding in making his chest hurt worse. Stark wanted to hold him, but figured it would only cause more pain if he did.
"Wake up, Peter," Tony said, rubbing his back, gently. "Hey…"
The boy tilted his head, looking up at him, but couldn't hold his head up for long. Not with the throbbing going on behind his right eye. It felt like someone was inside his head trying to force his way out.
"Mr. Stark…"
"Yeah. It hurts?"
"Yeah."
More awake, now, Peter tried to focus a bit. The pain didn't ease, but now that he was awake and more in control of himself, he wasn't moving. Moving hurt more than holding still.
"Take deep breaths," Tony told him. "You're going to hurt yourself more if you move around too much."
"Okay."
How long they were like that, Tony wasn't completely sure, but he was in no hurry to move – or to move Peter. When he was ready, he'd know. He looked at his watch – it was still early. No one would be up, yet. Stark was tempted to call a medic up to give Peter something stronger for the pain, but he knew that Strange would have already done just that if not for the more potent drug that the boy had been given earlier. Until it had cleared Peter's system Strange had told them it was too dangerous to give him anything stronger than what he already had.
"You're okay," Tony murmured, knowing it was scant comfort, but really all he could offer just then.
"I'm okay," Peter told him, his voice muffled by Stark's shirt. "Just give me a minute…"
"As long as you need," he assured him, resting his hand on the back of the boy's head. "Hold on a minute and I'll get you some pills."
He gently disengaged himself from Peter's grip and eased off the sofa long enough to go into the boy's room and get the water and the Tylenol bottle. When he returned he helped him sit upright enough that he wouldn't have to worry about him choking and gave him four pills and the glass, which Peter accepted gratefully and downed as quickly as he could.
He rested his cheek against the cool leather of the couch and looked at Tony, waiting for the pain to ease.
"Man…"
The movies never showed the aftermath of the hero getting his butt kicked, but Peter was definitely feeling it.
"What hurts the most?"
Stark wasn't worried about the pain – although he definitely felt for the boy. They knew he hadn't broken anything, only had some cracked ribs and a lot of bruising. That was going to take a while to heal, but it wasn't life-threatening, no matter how much it hurt. He was worried because Peter didn't have that glassy-eyed look that the fever had produced before. This time his gaze was hyper alert.
"Everything."
"I bet."
They were silent as they sat there. Peter had closed his eyes, but Tony knew he wasn't asleep. He could tell by how rigid he was, even leaning against the pillow Stark had tucked behind his head. The pain was still there, it just wasn't in command as it had been when the boy was waking up. Tony didn't know it, but the company was helping, as well. He just knew that he didn't want the kid to have to deal with it alone.
An hour or two after he'd woke, and by now Tony wondered if maybe Peter had fallen asleep and was just not resting peacefully, the boy stirred again.
"Doctor Strange is coming…" he murmured.
"What?"
A moment later, Strange was suddenly in the living room, startling Tony. He looked around, saw the two on the sofa and walked over, holding a package under one arm. He frowned when he palmed Peter's forehead, feeling the fever burning once more. The lights in the room came on without the man even making a gesture.
"Is he awake?"
"Yeah. He woke up a couple of hours ago."
"Peter?"
The boy didn't open his eyes, but he nodded.
"Yes."
"How do you feel?"
"Sore. Hot."
"Any bad dreams?"
"No."
"Is he relapsing?" Stark asked.
Strange shook his head.
"It's not like before, Tony. Not if he's not delirious or having dreams."
"But he's hot."
"The fever is probably just his body working on damage control. It's not uncommon." He held up the package he'd been carrying. "Wong sent something that might help with both."
"Oh?"
"Yes. He's working on something else, right now, as well. But this might be just the thing to get our young friend through the worst of this."
"What is it?" Peter asked as Strange produced a small earthenware pot and opened it. Inside was a goo that looked like green oatmeal with black flecks of something in it.
"A poultice."
"Do I eat it?"
It was clear he was hoping for a negative, and Tony had to admit that he was, too.
Strange smiled, shaking his head.
"I'm going to slather it on your chest under the bandages. It should help with the pain, and might heal your ribs faster."
"Really?"
"What's in it?" Tony asked at the same time.
"You'd have to ask Wong," Strange admitted. "I know one ingredient is a plant that only grows in the wastelands in the north of Mongolia." He knew because Wong had sent him to get it just the evening before.
Tony hesitated.
"Are we sure that's a good idea? What if Peter has a reaction to this one, too?"
Stephen shook his head.
"Not all plants want to kill us, Tony. Most are beneficial in some way – medicinal, foodstuff or even recreational, I suppose."
"I wouldn't know anything about that," Stark said.
"Right." Strange's smile was genuinely amused. "Neither would I."
Peter had a feeling he was missing something, but he couldn't concentrate enough to figure out what.
