A/N: Peter starts coming down with something at school, and Aunt May isn't picking up the phone, and the school isn't letting him go home until somebody picks him up. Here's my fill for the sick!Peter prompt :) I haven't read through this one before posting, so I hope it's alright and that you enjoy the bit of IronDad at the end.

Peter hadn't gotten sick since he was bitten and became Spiderman. That left many questions unanswered for him, many of which were still left unresolved. One of which was whether or not he could even get sick anymore. Well much to Peter's displeasure, he could in fact still get sick. And it sucked.

It had started off as a tickle in his throat that had started that morning when Peter woke up but didn't notice until the end of second period. That's when the incessant throat clearing started to try and get it to just go away but around lunchtime is when the first proper cough reared its ugly head. Ned decided it would be hilarious to crack a Raid joke, and all that ended up accomplishing was making Peter wonder whether or not bug repellent might be his undoing. Maybe he should start writing his will and ask Ned to get started on his eulogy.

The fun and games really ended when a particularly harsh bout of coughing made it impossible for Peter to catch his breath, and when he opened his eyes - he didn't even remember shutting them - Ned had slid in beside him at the cafeteria table, eyes bleeding with concern.

"You sure you're okay, man?"

"Yeah, I'm fi-" The soundness of Peter's point rapidly diminished as he failed at fending off another round.

Before Peter could backpedal and tackle the monumental task of getting a few words out once more, the back of Ned's hand met Peter's forehead.

"Holy shit, dude, you're really hot!"

"Thanks, but you know I'm after MJ, right?" Peter smirked. If insisting that he was fine wasn't working, then deflecting with humour seemed to be a solid Plan B.

"Ha ha, very funny." Ned haphazardly stacked their now empty lunch trays on top of one another and slid them to the end of the table, not bothering to check whether or not they'd fall off the other side. Swinging Peter's backpack over his shoulder, Ned's knees buckled in surprise a little bit at the weight. With some choice words that Peter would have laughed at had he been feeling less like a poorly preserved corpse, Ned gave him The Look. Nobody ever argued with The Look.

Peter allowed himself to be herded to the nurse's office with minimal complaining, knowing that one single cough would botch his argument, especially now. What had started as an annoying tickle that felt like somebody was lightly touching a feather to the back of his throat had turned into what would happen if a deranged person had made a poison ivy salad with croutons made of sand and forced Peter to swallow it.

As soon as they arrived, Peter had a feeling he would be sent home within a matter of minutes. Call it a hunch.

After the thermometer beeped, the display read 102.1 F, and he heard the nurse tsk.

"Told you."

Peter sent a half-hearted glare at Ned. On any other day, Peter would have been glad to go home early and take a few hours of the afternoon off for himself, but his next class was the one that had the partner project with MJ, and he'd been looking forward to it all week. Plus, it was Friday, so that meant he wouldn't get to see her again until Monday. Just his luck.

"Do you have a second emergency contact, dear?" The nurse asked from her desk, scrolling through his file on the database. "I've tried calling your aunt, but she hasn't been picking up."

Peter was initially hit with a pang of anxiety that combined beautifully with his aching head and bones; that was a new development. Before he could catastrophise too much, he reminded himself that May was at F.E.A.S.T all afternoon setting up for the weekend's big fundraiser. Either her phone was off, or she was incredibly busy, neither of which Peter blamed her for.

"Um, no, not really."

The nurse frowned in response. "I can only keep you here until 3:10, and I don't want to send you home alone." She tapped her pen on the notepad to her right, attempting to brainstorm plans B through to Z.

"Wait, what about Tony Stark?" Ned blurted out. Upon seeing Peter's indignant expression and the nurse's blush and look of surprise, Ned quickly added, "From the...the Stark internship. I'm sure he'd love to help."

"I'm sure we have other options than to call Mr Stark."

"Calling Mr Stark."

Oh God. Peter's whole body tensed. Scrambling for his backpack that was sitting across from where he sat on the medical bed, just beside the chair adjacent to the door, he felt waves of panic crash over him, turning his skin to fire and ice. Or maybe that was just the fever. Damn his phone, damn the fact that he felt like he got run over by a truck, and he prayed to whatever force in the universe that Tony would not pick it up.

It was just Peter's luck that the moment he had his phone grasped in his hands, that the ringing cut out and Tony's voice filtered through.

"Hey kid, this better be good, I'm in the middle of a - thing." Tony paused for a moment, and Peter jumped slightly and pulled the phone away from his ear as a loud clang rang over the speakers. Peter heard a mumbled "shit" over the line moments later.

"It's nothing, I was just talking about the internship and then my phone picked up your name in the sentence and then it called y-"

"Peter's sick!"

Ned cut in, yelling over Peter's shoulder at the phone at the same time that Peter broke into another coughing fit.

The silence picked up where it left off, and only the faint clinks and the sound of shifting tools filled Peter's ear. "Do you need to go home or something?"

Peter sighed and winced, backed into a metaphysical corner. He couldn't really lie his way out of this. "Y-yeah, that's the thing Mr Stark," he swallowed as another few leaves of poison ivy dancing in his throat. "Aunt May isn't picking up and they won't let me go home unless I'm picked up…"

"So, I'm your second emergency contact." It wasn't a question, but Tony didn't seem...anything. His tone sounded indifferent, but Peter couldn't read him.

Another awkward silence. Peter hated the nurse's and Ned's eyes on him, waiting expectantly. Peter cleared his throat.

"It just so happens that I want pizza this afternoon. Happy's just getting the car ready. Be ready outside, don't really want to have to deal with staring kids and the," Tony slammed a drawer shut, "fawning middle-aged teachers."

"Thank you so much Mr Stark, I -"

"It's fine, kid. Just don't get me sick or I'll put your suit up for auction."

A/N: I would have loved to continue after the end here and write Tony picking him up, etc etc. and taking him back to the Avengers facility, but alas, I ran out of time. Only three more chapters left! Thank you guys for continuing to read and support this collection xx