The lift soared its way upwards past hundreds of floors on its journey to the med bay, usually it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye when he was trying to arrive as late as possible to a boring partners meeting. Now it seemed to take an eternity and with every second that passed Peter's temperature was climbing, he could almost imagine he was cradling a hot mug of coffee against himself rather than his kid's sweaty head. He viciously pushed down the panic that was rising like bile in the back of his throat, pulling his familiar fearless Tony Stark persona to the front to stave off the panic attack blurring the edges of his vision.
Finally after what seemed like an age, the obnoxious ding that signalled their arrival to the med bay floor rang out through the small box, drawing a whimper from Peter and a mental note to disable that feature from Tony, or at least replace it with a more pleasant noise, perhaps a cricket, he'd always liked crickets.
Gently shushing the sick boy in his arms, Tony swept from the lift calling for Helen and Bruce as he did so, cursing himself for building such cavernous and extravagant buildings, when he had an emergency he didn't need the extra stress of having to walk half a mile to reach a bed.
"Tony" Bruce exclaimed as he watched his friend come rushing in, hurrying over himself to pull back the blankets on a bed and fluff up the pillows, dragging a heart monitor with him. "Lay him down here, what's happening?"
"Kid was dodging my calls and then I get a call from the school nurse telling me he was burning up and needed someone to come get him, and his aunt was busy. She wasn't lying either Brucie, kid's like a mini radiator over here."
Grabbing an ear thermometer, Bruce quickly checked Peter's temperature, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead at the same time and hissing through his teeth in displeasure at the heat. When the machine gave a sharp beep he glanced at the display and cursed sharply, "Cho get me a saline IV, ice and towels stat," he barked out, working to strip Peter of his damp sweaty clothing.
"Hey what's going on? Bruce, what's happening?"
Tony couldn't prevent his panicked demands for answers as the boy he saw as his kid was poked and prodded with needles, an IV line installed in the crook of his right elbow, a plastic oxygen mask strapped to his face and ice wrapped in towels tucked into various spots around his body.
"His temperature is too high Tony, 40 degrees, if we don't get it down and fast, then he's at serious risk of brain damage." At the look of sheer panic and the grey tinge of his friend's face, Bruce was quick to reassure him "we're doing absolutely everything that we can, Peter is a strong young man, he'll pull through this." He clapped a hand on Tony's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze before turning back to his young patient.
Tony sank shakily into one of the hard-backed chairs lining the room, clenching his trembling hands together before him he propped his elbows upon his knees and rested his forehead against his hands. Closing his eyes he begged anyone who was listening for his boy to make it through this. He sank into a haze, the only noise registering the steady ticking of the wall clock telling him that time was passing and this was indeed reality.
"Tones, Tony" Bruce called, shaking his friend by the shoulder until unfocused hazel eyes belatedly met his own. "He's stable now, we've managed to get his temperature down to a more normal elevated level and we're running tests now to try and find out just what caused this. We've got him on a drip to keep his fluids up and just in case we have left him with the oxygen mask, give his body as much help as we can while it fights off whatever is causing this. But you can go and sit with him now if you want to."
He'd barely even finished his sentence when Tony had rocketed to his feet and was striding down to the private room they had wheeled Peter into, and froze in the doorway like a statue. Looking at him, you wouldn't have thought that just the evening before the child had been swinging around Queens getting into all sorts of trouble. Usually tan skin was now a sickly washed out shade of pale and glistened with an unhealthy sheen of sweat. The bags under his eyes rivalled Tony's own after a three day shutdown invention binge, and the mask on his face highlighted his laboured breathing. What made his heart clench in his chest and tears well in his eyes was how small his kid looked in that bed, he knew Peter was a skinny kid, the spider bite might have given him super strength but it didn't affect his body, but with the blankets draped over him and his feet not even nearly reaching the base board, you would be forgiven for thinking he wasn't over ten.
"Tony." Bruce began from where he leant against the doorjamb.
"I'm staying" he murmured in response, not tearing his eyes from the unconscious form of Peter for one second.
"Tony I really think –"
"I SAID… I'm staying." Tony almost shouted, gripping Peter's hand tightly and settling himself firmly in the chair at his bedside. "I'm not leaving him alone here, alright."
"Alright, Helen and I will be upstairs if you need us, just let Jarvis know. And try to get some sleep Tony, you won't be any good to him if you're on the verge of collapse yourself."
He flipped the lights off, leaving the room bathed in a soothing orange glow from the standard lamp in the corner and the strip light above the bed, the only sound the muted beep and click from the oxygen machine in the corner and his own breathing.
Tony must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he was aware of was sunlight streaming through the window and bathing his cheek in its warm glow. Cracking his eyes open slowly, he squinted in confusion, normally it would take nothing short of an explosion to wake him once he fell asleep naturally. At some point during the night he had turned to his right and was facing the wall away from Peter, but he couldn't quite understand why there was no evidence of Peter being under the blankets.
A soft snuffling sound and a quiet whimper pulled his attention to the left and his mind blanked at the sight before him. Slipping his stark phone out of his breast pocket, he pressed Bruce's contact with his thumb and numbly raised it to his ear.
"Brucie, I think we're going to need you down in the med bay" he paused to take another glance at Peter, "no he's fine relatively speaking, but we have a whole new problem going on down here that need's your attention. You'll see when you get here. Oh, and Bruce, bring a clean blanket or something. I'll explain later, now hurry!"
His phone dropped to the bed with a muffled thump as he turned back to Peter. Somehow over the course of the night while he was sleeping, his kid had regressed back to a toddler, his best guess put him at between two and three years of age. Carefully he unravelled the elasticated band of the oxygen mask from where it had become tangled in his brown curls and scooped the small boy up to cradle him on his hip.
"Tony what on earth were you going on about, did you have a strange dream or some… thing?" Bruce trailed off as the other man turned to face him and he caught sight of Peter in his arms.
Where he had expected to see a lanky boy of sixteen, he instead saw empty trouser legs and shirt sleeves dangling freely. In the billionaire's arms there was a chubby toddler, with rounded flushed cheeks and familiar brown hair.
"Tony, what the hell!"
"I don't know I swear! I just woke up and he was like this!"
The two men immediately stopped arguing when Peter blinked and opened his eyes with a low moan, already beginning to sob softly at the raised voices. Upon noticing who was holding him he let out an excited squeal of "Ony!" and wrapped tiny arms around his neck in a tight hug.
"Well at least he seems to remember you, I wonder how much of his adult memories he's retained?" Bruce mumbled to himself, tapping a finger against his lip in thought.
"Seriously Bruce, seriously!" Tony exclaimed, patting a hand absent-mindedly against the toddler's back as he spoke, "that's what you're focussing on here! He's a toddler, an actual bloody toddler! Not the sixteen year old teenager who was extremely ill that was here last night, and is meant to be here now!"
"How exactly it happened I'm not entirely sure, we'll need to run many more tests for that, but he seems to be fine now, other than the whole being a toddler thing."
"You're enjoying this aren't you" Tony accused with narrowed eyes.
"Just a little" Bruce chuckled, "in all seriousness, a toddler suits you. Look, while we try to figure out what's going on with Peter, why don't you take him to get some clothes that actually fit him, and any other essentials he might need. Who knows how long this might last, and the poor kid deserves to be comfortable."
"You're right" Tony acknowledged, cupping Peter's head in one strong hand and stroking his temple with his thumb while he smiled down at him, "I'll call Rhodey, I am so not doing this alone."