"He's sick?"

Tony nodded, looking down at the little boy that he was holding. Peter was dozing in his lap, cheek pressed against Tony's chest, giving an occasional sniff since his nose was running almost constantly. The front of his shirt was soaked with snot that was only getting smeared every time Peter shifted in his sleep, or in between naps.

The billionaire had returned to the compound with everything on the doctor's list – as well as many things that he'd simply seen, and thought might make the boy feel better. Then he had carefully read the directions and conferred with Natasha, Steve (and a grumbling surgeon, who had been pulled from his bed, once more) and had dosed Peter with some cold medicine. Telling him to go back to sleep didn't work, though. Now that he was more awake and aware of just how miserable he felt, Peter had been clingy, and hadn't been interested in any of the things that Tony showed him.

He wanted to be held. That was all. Nothing more.

So Tony held him.

Then, when he'd fallen asleep – which was inevitable, really, thanks to the cold medicine – Tony had left him to get some rest, only to have Peter come looking for him less than twenty minutes later. The boy hadn't done more than leave Tony's room before JARVIS alerted the billionaire to what was going on. Since he hadn't gone any further than the lounge to get a cup of coffee, intercepting the sleepy child wasn't a problem.

Tony had scooped him up, once more, but had simply carried him to the lounge so Peter wouldn't need to ask where everyone was. Stark settled on a couch, settled Peter in his lap, covered him with a blanket. Then, once he was quietly resting, his cheek against Tony's chest, occasionally sniffing, had made a call to Pepper to let her know that he wasn't going to be coming in, that day.

Maybe for the rest of the week.

"He is," Tony said.

"Did you call a doctor?" Pepper asked.

"They have a couple of surgeons that are permanently attached to the compound. I spoke with both of them, last night, and one checked Peter this morning. They say he's caught a cold."

"What kind of surgeons?" she asked. "Do they specialize in children's illnesses?"

"They're trauma surgeons."

"Do you need a pediatrician?"

"They tell me I don't."

Some of the many things that he'd done the day before was to take care of all the little things required now that Peter was, officially, his. He was already the emergency contact for his school, but now the boy was put on his insurance, and there had been all kinds of forms to fill out.

Another thing needed was to find Peter a full-time, official, doctor, and dentist. They hadn't found one, yet, though, because Tony was going to be picky about who he trusted to Peter's care, and wasn't just going to pull a name out of a hat. He'd anticipated having a little more time to choose.

"Anything I can do?"

"Nah." Tony smiled down at the child he was holding. "We might invest in a Kleenex distributer, though. I have a feeling we're going to go through a lot of them, right now."

She smiled, and as if on cue, Peter sniffed.

"Give him a kiss for me."

"And get his germs?" Tony asked, pretending to be taken aback by the mere suggestion. "Are you trying to get me sick, too?"

He leaned over, though, and brushed a kiss against the top of Peter's head, feeling the warmth of the slight fever even through his curls.

Peter looked up, sleepily, at the touch, and Tony winked at him.

"Pepper says hi."

The boy smiled at that, but closed his eyes, again.

"Hi, Pepper."

Since it was a video call, she was able to see Peter, and even though the image wasn't completely vivid, she could see that he looked as miserable as he sounded.

Poor baby.

"Get some sleep, Peter," she told him. "You'll feel better."

"'kay…"

He dozed off, again, and Tony sat on the sofa talking to Pepper a few minutes more before she ended the call. Clint wandered over, crouching down to get a better look at Peter.

"Do you need a break?" he asked Tony. "I can hold him for a while."

"Nah. Thanks. I'm good for now."

Clint left to take care of his own responsibilities, and Tony leaned back a little more, getting comfortable without moving Peter any more than necessary. Then he closed his eyes and dozed off, too.

OOOOOOOO

Tony frowned, pressing the corner of the sandwich against Peter's lips.

"You need to eat something."

The boy turned his head, burying his face in Stark's shirt.

"I'm not hungry."

Steve snorted, amused at seeing such a little guy thwart Tony Stark.

They were still on the couch, but it was well past lunch time, and Steve had brought Peter and Tony both something to eat. Tony had been appreciative, but Peter wasn't impressed, just then.

"It's chicken. You like chicken."

"No."

The denial was muffled, but it was definitely a no.

"Peter… c'mon, now. You already skipped breakfast. Eat your sandwich and you can go back to sleep."

"I'm not sleepy."

"What's going on?" Natasha asked, walking over, holding a glass of iced tea.

"Peter won't eat his lunch."

"It isn't something gross, is it?"

"It's chicken and cheese. He likes it."

"No, I don't…" Peter muttered, wiping his face on Tony's shirt, which already held evidence of several such occurrences. "I hate it."

Tony rolled his eyes, but Natasha smiled.

"Give him to me, Tony," she said, handing Steve her glass and then holding her hands out for the boy.

"Good luck," Stark said, setting the sandwich back on the plate, and then handing Peter over to her, blanket and all. "He's grumpy."

Romanoff nodded, cuddling Peter close as she sat down on the sofa between the two men.

"Are you grumpy?" she asked the boy, putting a finger under his chin to make him look up at her.

"Yes."

He pulled his head free and leaned into her, closing his eyes and holding her, loosely.

"Because you don't feel good?"

"Yes."

"Poor baby." She shifted him in her embrace so she was still holding him, but now he didn't have his face pressed so tightly against her. "You're supposed to eat your lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"Still need to eat, sweetheart. Otherwise I'll be worried about you. You don't want me to worry about you, do you?"

"No."

"Just the sandwich…" she coaxed. "You don't have to eat the chips or the carrots."

Peter didn't look convinced, but Natasha took the half of the sandwich that Tony had been trying to make the boy eat, and took a small bite of it, herself. She made an approving noise as she chewed it, and Tony rolled his eyes, well aware Peter was too smart to fall for something so obvious.

Steve snorted, amused, but they were both silent when Peter opened his mouth and allowed Natasha to feed him a bite of the sandwich.

"Seriously?"

"Hush, Tony," Romanoff chided. "We're having lunch."

She took another bite of the sandwich before offering it to Peter. His next bite was bigger, and a little less grudging, and Tony and Steve watched as the two of them ate the entire sandwich, all of the carrots and a few chips before Peter turned his head at the offer of anything else. He sighed, mightily, coughed a couple times and then tucked his cheek back against Natasha's breast and closed his eyes.

"Need me to take him back?" Tony asked, even as she arranged the blanket to tuck around Peter.

"No. You've had him all morning," she replied. "Go find something to do and stop monopolizing the cuddles."

She smiled, though; her expression plainly telling him that she was willing to give him a chance to get up and stretch his legs, as needed. He decided there was no sense in arguing with her. Possession being 9/10 ths of the law, and all.

"If you need me – or if he does – call."

"We'll be fine."

He and Steve got up and left the two of them alone. Natasha smiled, again, amused and amazed to find herself in the position she was in. Then she leaned back to get more comfortable, and closed her eyes, too.