Chapter 7

"I don't know what you want me to do Grant; the kids got a fever and I can't leave him here all alone."

Silence.

"Oh, come on now. I know you have kids. Are you trying to tell me that you've never had to miss any work because they were sick?"

Silence.

"Well hooray for you… unfortunately I don't have a wife at the moment. I'm single parenting right now, and my plus one is out on business. So, there's no one else around to stay with him."

Silence

Guilt swelled in Peter's chest as he listened to Mr. Stark's side of his phone conversion. Peter falling sick was obviously causing him some hindrances and how the man was getting yelled at on his account. Perhaps he should have just told his mentor last night when he first started feeling a little off. It would have at least given the man a heads up. But it hadn't been too bad last night, just a slight headache and little more tired than usual. This morning he woke to the rest of his body aching, along with some body chills. He had hoped to be able to slip off to school without his mentor noticing; figuring that he'd be all better by this evening given his healing factor and all.

But of course, FRIDAY had to sell him out.

"All right, fine. I'll be on in twenty minutes… bye." Mr. Stark ended the phone call and Peter could hear the man walking in the direction of his room. There was a soft knock at the door a moment later, "Peter? Are you awake?"

The boy rolled over onto his side so he was facing the doorway before responding. "Yeah, you can come in."

The door opened up and his mentor entered the bedroom carrying a mug with steam puffing out of it. "How are you feeling their bud?"

"I'm not feeling too bad right now," the boy lied. This was actually the worst he's ever felt since the initial spider bite that gave him his abilities. That had been the sickest he's ever been in his entire life. Right now, felt like nothing compared to that incident, which helped him justify the lie. "I'll be okay by myself for a few hours, if you need to go to work Mr. Stark."

The billionaire responded with a snort, "I see you overheard my phone call. Damn that enhanced hearing; I even went to the furthest room possible." Well, that explained why he could only hear his mentor's side of the conversion. Mr. Stark set the mug of what looked like tea on his bedside table before continuing. "Don't worry about its kid. I'm going to get skyped into the meeting today. The new State Secretary just doesn't like last minute changes."

Peter just nodded his head, not really having the energy to argue his case. "All right, well I made you some tea." Mr. Stark continued after a moment. "Do you want any juice or water to go with it?"

At the mention of water, Peter suddenly noticed how dry his mouth was. "Maybe some water," he responded almost wincing at how weak and pathetic his voice sounded.

"Are you hungry at all? I could order in some chicken soup." Peter shook his head, not feeling the least bit hungry right now.

"Are you warm enough? Need another blanket?" the billionaire continued to question.

Peter nodded.

"Um… are you comfortable in your bed right now? I can set you up on the couch with a movie if you're not ready to sleep."

Peter was getting the distinct impression that his mentor was running through a mental checklist. Like he had just looked up, "What to do when your ward is sick." The thought made him almost laugh. It was painfully obvious that Mr. Stark was way out of his element. "I'm okay here. Wouldn't want the movie to interrupt your meeting. Maybe after it's over."

"Didn't I already tell you not to worry about that. I can go in my office and shut the door, and FRIDAY can temporarily soundproof the room." The man rolled his eyes and pulled Peters covers back. "Come on. Grab your blankets and we'll find a Star Wars film for you to fall asleep to."

While Peter piled two or three blankets in his arms, Mr. Stark grabbed his pillow and mug of tea the it? two shuffled out of the room. A few minutes later Peter was curled up in his mound of blankets on the couch, sipping on the mug of tea his mentor made for him. It was some type of herbal tea that he couldn't place a name for. It was good either way, and soothed his throat that he hadn't realized until now had been sore. Mr. Stark came back into the it? room with a plastic water bottle in hand. "There you go bud," he said setting it down on the side table next to where Peter's head lay.

"Thanks Mr. Stark," the responded with a grateful smile.

"Come on kid. Aren't you supposed to be working on the Mr. Stark shit. Call me Tony for goodness sake," the man responded without any heat. Making it clear that he wasn't as annoyed as his words indicated.

The boy tossed a couch pillow in his mentors' direction. "Leave me alone I'm sick," he said in a whiny voice including a pout for good measure.

Mr. Stark just laughed it off and Peter quickly joined in. "All right Pete. Just tell FRIDAY what movie you want, and she'll do the rest. Now, do you need anything else?" The boy shook his head. "All right. If you need anything at all, just tell FRIDAY and she'll let me know. And I mean that kid. Even if I'm in the middle of the meeting, I want to know if you need help. That's why I'm staying here today."

Peter nodded his head, but mentally told himself that nothing short of a heart attack would be enough for him to interrupt Mr. Starks meeting. Even then he'd still probably ask FRIDAY to just call 911 first, because he knew that his mentor was already having his day interrupted by him. The least he could do was make it as easy as possible to take care of him.

The man left for his office, leaving Peter to get himself comfortable on the couch. The boy propped himself up against his pillow and couch armrest, and took another sip from his mug of tea. "FRIDAY can you put on A New Hope?" he asked the A.I. and she complied without any comment. Peter continued drinking the tea while the opening credits rolled, and by the time Luke was sitting around playing with his model spaceship; Peter was fast asleep.

Taking care of a teenager while sick turned out to be way easier than Tony expected. He didn't hear a peep out of Peter, or FRIDAY on behalf of the kid during his entire two-hour meeting. After an hour and a half, he asked FRIDAY how the kid was doing, in which she responded that he was sleeping on the couch.

After the meeting ended, he ordered in some lunch for himself and chicken noodle soup for Peter to eat. If the kid would even eat it. It has been like pulling teeth, trying to get the boy to eat the last few days. He assumed it would be near impossible with him feeling under the weather. But he got something for the kid anyway, since it was what a responsible guardian would do. Right?

Tony waited for the food to arrive before waking Peter up. He wanted to check the kid's temperature again as well. Online it said to regularly monitor a sick kid's temperature, so now seemed as good as time as any. He grabbed the plastic device from where he had left it in the kitchen before heading over to the couch Peter was sleeping on. The billionaire almost felt bad at the idea of waking the kid up. He actually looked quite cozy snuggled under the blankets; the side of his face was pressed deeply into the pillow under his head. The teen's tousled brown hair was sweat soaked at the roots; this and flushed cheeks were the only evidence of the sickness his body was fighting. A casual glance at Peter right now would show a kid that was just taking a casual nap on the couch.

"Hey kid," Tony gently shook Peter's shoulder. The boy immediately started to stir with a soft groan. His eyelids cracked open to reveal unusually bright, glassy brown eyes. "Wake up," the man continued feeling suddenly awkward. Was this the right way to wake up a sick kid, maybe he wasn't doing it right? He tried to think back to the times he had been sick as a kid and how the adults in his life interacted with him.

There were no memories of his dad having anything to do with him while sick. But he did recall his mother and sometimes even Jarvis being very affectionate with him. Allowing him to cuddle up next to them because he felt too crappy to care about the embarrassment he felt from affection. Sometimes they would rub his back or run a hand through hair. Was Peter expecting him to do that? Tony started to reach towards the kid's head but inwardly cringed at the idea of kids sweat getting all over his hand. So, he pulled the hand back. It hadn't even been a week yet; he could work up to that.

Luckily the kid's grogginess seemed to abate as he sat up on the couch and looked at Tony with some alertness. "Missr Strk? Was' wrong?" he slurred blinking rapidly at the man. Okay maybe the grogginess hadn't passed as much as Tony had thought.

"Nothing's wrong Pete. I just got some lunch for us. I want to take your temperature again and then we can eat."

Peter grimaced at the mention of food, which didn't hold a lot of promises that the kid was going to easily eat the food he got. "M-not really that hungry sir…" he muttered in a stronger voice than before.

"I figured that was the case," Tony responded while getting the thermometer ready. "Don't worry, I didn't get you a grand slam. Just some nice warm soup; easy on the stomach." Man, he was starting to sound domestic again; what the hell was Peter doing to him. "All right, let's check the damage." The billionaire held the thermometer towards Peter expecting the boy to grab the device and do it himself like last time. To Tony's surprise though the kid just opened his mouth and allowed the man to slip the pointed tip into his mouth. Peter reached up as soon as it entered and made sure the tip went under his tongue.

The thermometer read 99.5 degrees a few moments later. Tony took this as a good sign, since it was lower now than it had been before. The kid did have an enhanced immune system, so if all went well the kid would be fever free by tonight, good as new by tomorrow and he'd be able to head over to the Compound as scheduled.

By the time Tony brought a bowl of soup for Peter and the Philly Cheesesteak for himself; another Star Wars movie was already playing on the screen. He handed the bowl of soup over to the boy who accepted with a mumbled "thanks," and then sat on the armchair next to the couch to eat his own food. The kid began eating without complaint; but he finished far too quickly. When Tony glanced over at the bowl Peter was setting down on the coffee table, it looked like he hadn't even eaten half the bowl. "Kid, you need to eat a little more of that." The billionaire was starting to become increasingly concerned at the kid's lack of appetite. He was aware that with the teenager's super metabolism, he should be eating three times the amount a normal kid his age should eat. At the moment he wasn't packing in enough to feed a normal teenage boy.

"I don't think I can…" came Peter's weak reply, looking mournfully over at the billionaire.

A frustrated sigh slipped through Tony's lips. He was struggling with a balance of going easy on the kid because he's sick and still getting used to this life change, and being a responsible guardian and showing some tough love. "You're not going to get better if you keep eating the way you have been. Your body needs enough calories for your enhanced immune system to kick in." At this point, Tony was just making it up as he went. But it made sense to him, maybe he could call it educated guesses. He now wished that he spent more time working with some doctors to figure out how Peter's physiology worked.

The kid was now giving him a kicked puppy look, almost on the verge of tears. "Honestly sir. If I eat anymore, it'll just come back up… and I really don't want that." God! Sir was even worse than the constant Mr. Stark. What did I guy have to do to be called by his first name?

Honestly Tony wanted to say something along the lines of, "Well just try and keep it in your stomach long enough for your body to absorb the nutrients; then it's fine if it gets tossed up into the toilet." But that didn't seem very sympathetic; the kid was obviously trying to avoid that scenario. So instead, he said, "Fine, just leave it on the table for now. Maybe wait ten minutes then see if you can stomach anymore."

Peter nodded his head, seeming grateful for the compromise. They both went back to watching the Star Wars movie for another five minutes. A frustrated sigh fell from Tony's lips when his phone started to buzz; it was probably Secretary Grant about something. Hadn't he given the man enough of his time this morning. Seriously, he had a sick teenager that needed to be taken care of. The billionaire pulled the phone out of his pocket, and scowled at the caller I.D. name.

Steve.

He'd been avoiding the guy for the better part of the week now; only responding to text messages when he felt like he had to. But considering they were about the meet face to face in a couple of days; he could only ignore the Super Soldier for so long. "I'll be right back Pete," he announced the boy who already looked to be dozing on the couch, and stood up to take the call in another room. Not that it would make much difference. He knew that with Peter's enhanced hearing he'd be able to listen in if he wanted to, no matter where Tony went in the penthouse. But at least leaving the room gave Tony the illusion of privacy, and the kid would at least have the option of not eavesdropping.

Tony waited for the door of his office to be shut before swiping his finger across the screen to accept the call. "Stark," he announced by way of greeting. A bit formal compared to how the two used to greet each other over the phone. Before the accords and everything hit the fan.

"Wow, you actually answered your phone…" Steve deadpanned.

"Sorry Rogers, I've been a little busy this week," Tony's response was short and he didn't sound sorry in the least. He knew from experience that showing any type of emotion around Steve led to discussions about feelings, what might be causing the feelings, and all that mushy stuff. Going into detail about why this week has been so busy would undoubtedly lead to a discussion about Peter. And he definitely wasn't ready to open that can of worms.

Luckily the captain picked up on his tone and didn't press for details. "Sorry to hear that." The other man sounded sincere. "I was checking in on your plans for the weekend. Are you going to be at the compound when we arrive?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'm either coming tomorrow night or Friday morning. If I come Friday, you'll probably get there before me. In any case I've already set it up so FRIDAY will let you in when you arrive."

"That sounds good. Are we using the same rooms we had before?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, everything should be the way you left it," a trace of bitterness entered Tony's voice that he had no control over. After the big fight went down and they all went into hiding, Tony had tried to stay and live at the Compound. But trying to live in the space where all his former friends used to live, proved to be too much; and it only took a few weeks before he left to live in the penthouse he owned in New York. He had not returned to the facility's housing floor since the day he got everything ready to offer Peter a spot on the Avengers team. Dusting out a spare room for the kid, but still avoiding the rooms of all the other Avengers.

"All right Tony…" Steve replied sounding like he at least had the decency to feel bad. "I'll see you soon."

The rest of the day turned out to be fairly uneventful. Peter spent the day either sleeping or laying around the couch having a Star Wars marathon. After going through the main trilogy, he started on the prequels. Tony ended up being unsuccessful in getting the kid to finish the bowl of soup. The coaxed the kid into eating a few more spoonful's after he finished up his phone call with Steve earlier. But he eventually got tired of hearing the boy whine about not wanting to throw up, and gave it up. Hopefully he'd be a bit more successful at dinnertime.

Peter's temperature stayed at a steady 100 degrees all day long, never going higher or lower than a half degree. Tony had convinced himself that it was the kid's lack of appetite that stopped the fever from breaking. If he was still running a fever in the morning, he'd have to rethink his weekend plans. He could just bail on the rogues? Call up Steve and say that something came up, which would be true. It's not like he had to be there when they moved back in. He had already set it up for FRIDAY to take care of everything. The only problem with that was Secretary Grant has been really pushing for the Accords to be revised sooner rather than later. Tony kept telling him that he would go over the last revision with the other Avengers when they moved back into the compound. He even told the new State Secretary this morning that it would happen this weekend. Thinking it could be a good… bonding time for them? Thinking about now, Tony realized that was probably a terrible idea. The accords are what started the breakup in the first place. And now thinking they could go over the first revision when they were barely on speaking terms… what had he been thinking? But he'd get hell from Grant for not even trying.

That left only one other option, which was taking the kid with him. There was no way he could turn the situation, and be able to justify leaving Peter here all by himself when he was sick. The teen would probably insist that he would be fine, but he never did have a good track record with self-preservation. There wasn't really anyone around that could stay and babysit the kid while he was gone. He had briefly debated asking Happy if he'd be willing. But he didn't know much more than Tony did about kids, and had less patients. So, he didn't seem like a very good candidate. The only person who actually knew everything about Peter was Pepper, so she was obviously the best choice. But unfortunately, she was already gone and wouldn't be back for another week. Rhodey was a decent second option if it really came down to an emergency. But this wasn't enough of an emergency to deal with all the questions he would get about why he was taking care of a sick teenager. Peter would probably agree.

Tony glanced over at the time, and sighed when he saw that it was almost five in the evening. About time to think about dinner for the kid. He glanced over at said kid, who was dead to the world at the moment, buried under a mound of blanks on the couch. "FRIDAY what's your read on the kid's temperature right now?" he called out to the A.I. making sure he wasn't loud enough to wake the kid up. After a while he got tired of waking the kid up to get his temperature, and started using FRIDAY to monitor since she'd been fairly accurate so far.

"Current body temperature stands at 100.7 degrees Fahrenheit," FRIDAY replied in her Irish lilt.

That's the highest it's been all day. The billionaire noted that the boy's fever had been slowly inclining since about three-o-clock this afternoon. It was probably best to double check with the regular thermometer when he woke the kid up for dinner. Which he might as well do now, since he wanted the boy's opinion on dinner before he went to make anything. Hoping Peter will be more willing to eat if he had a say in what was on the menu. "Hey Peter, wake up." Tony leaned over the couch and gently shook the teen's shoulder, noting the heat radiating off the kid's skin more than he had before.

Glassy brown eyelids slowly opened. Peter looked around the room a bit confused, perhaps expecting to wake up in the apartment he had lived in with his aunt. "Hey," Tony waved a finger in front of the boy's eyes. "Eyes right here," he pointed at his own face.

Peter blinked a few times and Tony saw his eyes focus on him and then get filled with recognition. "Wassup Mr. Stark?" the teen asked groggily, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes.

"Just checking to see how you're feeling. Think you're up for some dinner?"

The kid groaned softly at the suggestion and shook his head. "I don't think so Mr. Stark…"

"I'll be honest with you kid; I'm starting to get worried about how little you're eating. I'll make or order anything you want to eat."

"Don't want to eat anything…" Peter mumbled looking down at his now fidgeting hands. "M-afraid anything I try an eat I'll jus throw up…"

Gosh what was with this kid and not wanting to throw up. Yes, it's an unpleasant experience, that no one actually wants to happen. But this seems like a whole new level, as the kid's so afraid of it happening, he's doesn't even want to try and eat. Maybe the kid was afraid of him getting mad for throwing up on the blankets or something that he'd have to clean up. "Peter, throwing up isn't the worst thing to happen around here. I can bring over a trash can just in case." The teenager just adamantly shook his head. "How about some of the broth from the soup earlier, no noodles no chicken or veggies. Only liquid?" Tony was getting desperate at this point.

A short silence followed as Peter debated the compromise. "Okay… I'll t ry." he finally relented.

Tony couldn't stop the audible sigh of relief. "Sounds good." He then grabbed the digital thermometer from where it sat on the coffee table. "Here let's check up on that fever while I go warm up the broth." The boy obediently opened his mouth before Tony even had the device ready, but didn't comment on it. Just slipped the tip under his tongue, and left the room to start heating up the soup while they waited for the reading.

In the kitchen, Tony pulled the leftover soup out of the refrigerator and used a strainer to separate some of the broth into a bowl. Once the bowl was in the microwave, he went back to the couch to check on the teenager. Peter was back to lying down on the couch with his eyes closed; though he at least kept the thermometer in his mouth while dozing. Tony broke the kid out of his doze by taking the device out of his mouth to checking the reading. It read 101.2. Yeah, the fever was definitely going nowhere but up at this point. Which meant that the kid wasn't getting over it. And if his temperature really was a couple degrees colder than a normal human, than he basically had a 103 fever. No wonder he seems so out of it right now

"All right Pete," Tony began to say with a sigh. "Hate to tell you this, but your fever's throwing a wrench into our weekend plans. I can't leave you here all by yourself when you're this sick."

Peter blinked his glazed over, fever filled eyes at him. "Huh…" he asked with obvious confusion. It seemed as if the kid's high temperature had fried his genius brain.

"Remember," Tony tapped one of his fingers against the side of his own temple. "You were going to hang out here a couple days while I went to the Compound."

It still took the boy a few moments before recognition filled his eyes. "Oh…" Peter shook his head slightly as if he hoped it would help his brain start moving faster. It seemed to be a mistake to do as the kid visibly winched afterward. Probably from a headache. "Tis fine Mr. Stark. I'll be allrigh by myself."

Tony shook head, "Nope, don't even try to convince me on this one Pete. I'm not leaving you here alone while you're sick."

Peter unexpectedly sat up on the couch. "Really, Mr. Stark I'll be fine." The kid must be really trying to prove this to him, as he somehow managed to steady his voice enough to sound normal. "I know you have stuff you need to do. There were plenty of times my aunt had to work while I was home sick, and she left me for the day."

The billionaire had to hold back a grimace at the words. He didn't want to insinuate that his aunt had made a bad parenting choice by doing that, but he also didn't think that example was a good enough excuse to leave Peter here by himself. "Your aunt did that because she had to. I don't have to leave you here all alone." The boy cast his eyes downward, obviously not liking the response but had nothing to say to it. "How about this," Tony added after a few moments of silence. "Let's see how you feel in the morning. Then we can decide what to do."

"...all right," Peter responded after a short silence.