One last bonus chapter to celebrate the 2-year anniversary of my first published fic (and 100 followers)! A huge thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, and stuck with me this far-your kind words always make my day. Here's a treat for you-enjoy!

Ned was halfway through a Brooklyn 99 binge when his phone rang. He reached an arm out to fumble for it blindly, hand finally snagging it from his nightstand. The contact information blared: Pete Parkley. He pressed the accept call button in a hurry, and started talking before the phone was even to his ear.

"Peter? Omigosh, Peter, are you alright? You passed out in the middle of the hallway like a ragdoll and I had to call the actual Iron Man to pick you up-which was insane, so insane, what the hell, when he showed up I think I actually went into shock-"

"Ned!" Peter's voice crackled through the receiver, and maybe it was just some static, but his throat still sounded pretty scratchy. "Slow down, man, I'm fine."

Ned sighed and slowed his excited rambling down. "Well, you can thank me for that. Actually, no thanks are necessary; Tony Stark knows my name."

Peter laughed. It sounded like gravel through a woodchipper, and Ned couldn't help his wince. That seemed painful. "Yeah, yeah, I owe you one. But really, dude, you couldn't've just dropped me off at the nurse?"

"You passed out, Peter."

"Nurses can handle that!"

"No school nurse gets paid enough to handle that when the one needing a fainting couch is you."

A resigned sigh. "Yeah, you're probably right. I don't think Mr. Stark is ever gonna let me live this one down, though."

Ned shrugged, even though Peter couldn't see. "I wouldn't worry too much. Hey-" he said, as a thought occurred to him. "You didn't, like, sneak out and go on patrol, did you? Are you calling from the suit?"

"No," Peter replied, sounding very long-suffering. "I'm still in my room at the Tower. FRIDAY made sure of that." Ned could have sworn he heard something that vaguely sounded like "snitches get stitches, FRI" muttered from the other end of the line, but the AI must have chosen to ignore it.

"Well, good," Ned went on. "You need a break. You've been stumbling around like something from The Walking Dead and looking like somebody murdered a bunch of kittens in front of you all week."

"Has it been that bad?"

"It's been that bad," Ned confirmed. "Seriously, dude, you really think me'n MJ'd be on your case if it wasn't? Come on."

"Yeah," Peter sighed. "You're...probably right. Sleeping is kinda nice…"

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that. You know what? No, I'm not. I'm telling May, so she can make you go to bed at a more reasonable hour."

"It's not that simple."

"Then we'll figure something else out," Ned said determidly, not missing a beat. "And...you can talk to me about stuff. You know that, right? I might not get it, because I'm not a web-slinging maniac, but-I mean, I'm here."

That sniffle was definitely due to Peter's flu, and not any sudden emotions, Ned thought with a sad smile. When his friend spoke, it was much softer, and more earnest.

"I know. Thanks, man."

"Anytime. Now try and go back to sleep before FRIDAY loses her mind."

"She's like an overprotective robot mother," Peter groaned, but Ned could hear the faintest indicators of a grin. "But yeah. G'night."

"'Night," Ned said, and ended the call.

It's a day late, but I hope y'all enjoyed it. Thanks again, and I'll see you in the new year!