"I'm pretty sure a pediatrician would say the same thing."

"Maybe." He didn't look convinced. "I could call one in…"

Fury frowned.

"What did our doctors say to do?"

"I'm supposed to make sure he gets rest, and fluids. One offered to check on him in the morning."

"Well, then, why don't we wait and see how things look in the morning?"

Tony wasn't really the wait and see kind of guy and he scowled at the thought of letting his little guy wallow in agony if it could be avoided.

"He could be worse by then."

"Stay close, then, and monitor him," Nick suggested. 'If he looks like he's getting worse, we'll call in a specialist. Fair?"

"I could probably find one willing to come-"

"Tony." It was almost amusing to see the man so worried, because it meant that he actually cared about something (or someone) enough to be concerned about them, but Fury didn't want his compound invaded by civilian doctors. Not if it could be avoided. Civilians were a pain in the ass, as far as the SHIELD director was concerned. "Just wait and see. Trust me. If he's worse in the morning, and our doctors think he needs a specialist, then we'll call one in. I'll even send the Quinjet for them."

Stark hesitated, but finally nodded. Mainly because he didn't want to be away from Peter long enough to continue the argument.

"Fine. We'll see how he feels tomorrow."

"Good. Need anything?"

"No. Thank you."

Fury left Tony at the door to Peter's room, but when he went to join Peter on his bed, again, Stark changed his mind and carefully gathered the sleeping form into his arms, picking him up, easily, and shushing him, softly, when he stirred.

"Tony?"

A soft sniff, and the billionaire rolled his eyes when he felt the boy wipe his nose on Tony's neck.

"Go back to sleep, buddy," he whispered. "I'm going to take you to my room, okay?"

"Why?"

The head never lifted from his shoulder, and the question was sleepy.

"Because JARVIS is in my quarters, and he isn't in yours."

"Oh."

The explanation wasn't very complete, but Peter fell asleep between his door and the one that opened to Tony's room, so it clearly didn't matter to the boy.

"JARVIS?" Tony said, softly, as he held Peter with one hand and pulled his blankets back. "Keep an eye on Peter's temperature, tonight. If it goes above 102 degrees, alert me."

"Yes, sir."

Tony settled Peter beside him, covering him, warmly, and then making sure his own body heat would keep him warm, too, despite the worry of a fever. Peter mumbled something in his sleep, draped an arm over Tony's side and was still, once more.

The billionaire, on the other hand, didn't sleep. He turned off the lights, to keep from bothering Peter, but with the hand that wasn't pressed against Peter's back, he reached for his tablet. He'd keep most of his focus on the sleeping child, of course, but he could easily multitask, and he was still working out some bugs in the newest suit.

Instead, though, he found himself looking up pediatricians in the area, and mentally beginning to rank them in order of who he would call first the moment he thought the need came up.

Eventually, he dozed off, always aware of the little sleeping form beside him.

OOOOOOOOO

It was Peter who woke Tony the next morning, early.

He shifted in the bed as he woke, mumbled something, and then sat up, looking around.

Stark sat up, too, instantly alert.

"Hey, buddy. How do you feel?"

"Not too good," Peter admitted, his voice hoarse, and looking at Tony woefully. "Where am I?"

"In my room."

"Oh."

"Lay back down, okay?" Tony suggested. "You're fine, you just have a cold."

"I feel hot."

"I know. Does anything hurt?"

"My throat. A little."

"I'll see what we can do for that. Try to get some more sleep, okay? That's what they said you need; sleep."

Peter lay back against the pillow, but his eyes were wide open when he looked up at Tony.

"I'm not sleepy."

"The doctors say you're supposed to sleep," Tony told him. "You try to stay still, and I'll go find one and have them come check on you."

"Okay."

Tony pressed a kiss against that too warm forehead and got out of his bed.

"But don't pee my bed," he added with a smile. "You're allowed to get up if you need to."

Peter echoed his smile, sleepily.

"Okay."

Stark had barely left his quarters when he was suddenly accosted by Romanoff in the corridor. He clutched his chest – only slightly dramatically, since she really had startled him with her sudden appearance.

"Put a bell on, will you?" he complained.

She smirked, but her eyes were worried.

"Nick said Peter's not feeling well?"

"Yeah. He's hot, and his throat hurts. I'm going to go get one of the doctors to have him come check him out, now that it's morning."

"Can I go keep him company?"

"Of course."

Like he was going to say no? She probably wouldn't listen, anyway.

OOOOOOOOOO

When he returned with a disgruntled looking surgeon walking behind him ten minutes later, Natasha was in his bed with Peter, crooning softly under her breath to the boy, who was cuddled in her lap, eyes closed and head tucked under her chin. She ran her fingers through Peter's curls.

"Hey, honey, the doctor's here to look you over."

Peter sighed, but shifted, and Romanoff rolled out of Tony's bed to make room. As she did, a couple of others walked into the room.

"Peter's sick?" Steve asked, looking at the boy in the bed.

"Yes," Tony said. "He's fevered, has a sore throat, and he's been sniffling all night."

"Poor little guy," Clint said, moving so he could watch as the surgeon Tony had dragged out of bed began examining the child. He smiled. "He looks sick, doesn't he?"

His face was flushed, and his eyes were tired and a little red. As was his nose.

"He's not too bad," the doctor said, running his fingers, gently, along Peter's jaw. "It's just a cold."

"From being outside, yesterday?" Tony asked.

Clint snorted before the doctor could reply.

"You don't get a cold in a day, Tony. Not even a superkid like Peter, here. He's in daycare, right? Probably picked something up there from one of the other kids, or maybe from school. It just takes a while to show up."

The doctor nodded his agreement.

"He's right." Of course he was; he had his own kids and was already learning to deal with endless illnesses. "Nothing could have prevented it, really. Little kids get sick. Little boys, especially, because they're gross creatures at the best of times."

Before the others could complain about anyone saying their precious little guy was gross, Clint nodded.

"I had to pull Cooper away from the cat's litter box, one time. I thought my wife was going to throw up."

"Eww." Natasha had clearly not heard that story. "I've kissed him."

"Cat poop lips," Clint said, smirking.

Tony was watching the doctor and Peter.

"So? What do we do?" the billionaire asked. "Do I need to call in a specialist?"

"It's a cold," the doctor said. Again. "He doesn't need a specialist. He doesn't even really need a doctor. Just some rest, and fluids to keep him from getting dehydrated. We can get him something to knock back the fever and take care of the cough – which will help him sleep. He'll feel better in a week, or so."

Stark wanted to argue, but Clint was nodding his agreement with the doctor, and Tony trusted that the archer knew what he was talking about. He was just too competent with Peter to not be right.

"Do you have any of those things?" he asked, instead.

"No. We're not set up for children, here, and we don't want to give someone as little as he is any medication intended for adults. I'll send someone to pick up-"

"Just make a list of what we'll need," Stark interrupted. "I'll go get it."

"Fine."

Tony looked down at Peter, who had been listening to the conversation going on around him, but not really paying attention.

"Hey, buddy. I'm going to go get you something to help you feel better. Okay?"

Peter didn't argue. He just nodded and closed his eyes.

"Want me to come with you?" Natasha asked.

"I'm going to take the suit. I'd appreciate it if you guys keep an eye on Peter."

"We can do that," Clint said, forcing himself to not react to the idea of the Ironman suit coming to a superhero landing in front of the nearest drug store, Tony Stark exiting it, and walking up to the counter to ask for some Children's Tylenol. He'd have liked to see the clerk's reaction to that. "You might get some vape-o-rub, too."

The doctor nodded his agreement, handing Tony a piece of paper.

"It's on the list."

"Thank you, doctor."

Tony brushed his fingers against Peter's cheek and then he left.

"He's really okay?" Natasha asked the doctor.

"He's fine. Stark's overreacting."

Barton shrugged.

"He's new at the dad thing," he pointed out. "He'll relax, more, when he's had a chance to settle into the role."

"I'll be around," the doctor told them, clearly ready to go back to bed.

"We'll call if we need you," Steve said, frowning down at Peter, who had fallen asleep.

"You aren't going to need me," he was assured.

He left and Natasha sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'll stay with him until Tony gets back."

"If he wakes up and wants anything call me," Steve told her.

Clint shook his head, amused.

It was a good thing Peter was pretty level-headed, because the Avengers weren't any better than Tony.

"I'm going back to bed."

Little kids weren't nearly as much fun when they were sick, after all. Clint knew that, already. The rest of them would soon find that out.