I'm on break from college right now, which is why I'm posting more. These are stories I wrote a while ago that I'm editing up.
Hope you enjoy!
(The title comes from the theme song of Alexa & Katie, my favorite show :')
Peter leaned back against his headboard, whole body one giant ache. Playing video games all day and texting Ned had entertained him for a while. And yeah, it had been nice skipping school and not having to be bothered by homework. Or Flash. But the enjoyment he got from his sick spell was small in comparison to what he had to miss. He felt like crap and tonight was Mr. Stark's gala.
Not only was it his mentor's event, but it was an important one, one that Mr. Stark had actually invited him to.
And he wouldn't be making it. Of course, he hadn't told Mr. Stark this yet…and the party started in an hour.
He stewed over how to tell his mentor he wouldn't be there. A text? Yeah, a text would be good. He wasn't going to call…that would be weird.
His aunt popped her head in and caught him staring at the wall. "Make sure you tell Tony you're not going to be able to make it." She cast him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry you have to miss this, I know you were excited."
Peter sighed. "I'll tell him, don't worry."
She ducked back out to make sure her homemade ramen egg soup wasn't burning, and Peter pulled out his phone, going to Tony's contact.
His thumb hovered over the text button, but then he thought better of it.
He'd text Happy.
Then he wouldn't bother Mr. Stark when he was about to host his party, and he could let Happy deliver the news. Fewer questions that way.
Yeah.
He went to his messaging app and typed in Happy's name, then sent him two texts.
Can you please let Mr. Stark know I won't be able to make it to the gala tonight? I'm sick.
Before Peter could put his phone down, the dutiful bodyguard responded. He had been better at texting Peter back since the whole 'crashing an airplane' thing.
Only one emoji? You must be sick.
I'll let boss know. Get well soon, kid.
Peter typed one more message.
Thanks, Happy.
He sighed and set his phone down, then grabbed a tissue to blow his nose with. His face felt like a pressure cooker. Hopefully his medicine would kick in soon. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off. Now that he'd informed Tony indirectly, he had nothing left to worry about except being bored to death.
"Dinner's ready!" May called, rousing him from his sleep. "How about you eat it out here to get out of your room for a bit," May suggested. But it wasn't really a suggestion, and both she and Peter knew that. Peter groaned as he scooted his legs to the edge of his bed and pushed himself to the floor.
He sauntered into the kitchen, his aunt casting him a sympathetic look as he did. "You look awful."
Peter huffed. "Thanks. I really tried." She gave his bedhead a ruffle.
"Come get some soup. It'll heal you."
"Some soup." He shuffled over to the table and slid into a kitchen chair. From bed, to chair, to couch, to bed. That was his life till he got better.
"So what kind of party was it, anyway? There's not a holiday I've forgotten, is there?" May asked.
"It's his end of the year gala. It's like, a business Christmas party for investors and fake interns."
"Hah. That sounds…formal."
"Yeah. I guess I don't really know who I would've talked to…" He dried his hands on a towel.
A knock at the door made both of them jump. May raised an eyebrow as she moved to get the door, and Peter guessed it was their neighbor Dave, asking them for a third time if they'd seen his missing hairless cat.
A distinct voice carried across the threshold. "Hi, Miss Parker."
Peter froze.
"Tony." She sounded surprised. "Call me May, please. What are you doing here? Don't you have a party to be hosting?" She ushered him in. Peter stared dumbfounded as his mentor walked into the Parker's small living room. Peter found he had no energy to do anything but sit there.
Tony met his eyes with a smile. "Hey, Pete. Heard from Happy that you were under the weather." The way he said from Happy made Peter certain Tony wouldn't let the cop-out slide. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Mr. Stark was here...when he should be at his gala. He was here. To see...Peter. What?
After too long of a pause, politeness forced words out of Peter's mouth. "Uh, yeah. Sorry...sorry I couldn't make it to your party."
Tony waved a hand. "The party doesn't matter, kid. How are you feeling?"
The deliberate implication that Peter was what mattered made his chest feel warmer than it already did. "I've been better," he offered vaguely.
Tony looked at him with a tight face. "You look horrible. Like you got tangled up in a spider web and spit back out."
Peter snorted. "Yeah, May said that too."
He crossed his arms, suddenly self-conscious in his blue space pajamas.
"So what...what are you doing here?" he asked, and he suddenly felt like he was back in 10th grade, coming home to find Mr. Stark in his living room chatting with his aunt for the first time. Something passed over Tony's face; he was probably thinking about their first meeting too.
"I'm a doctor…ate," Tony said. "I can be useful. And I'm good at watching movies." Peter just stared at him, his sick brain taking three times as long to process what he'd just said.
"...What?" he asked, face scrunched in confusion.
Tony took a breath, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I'm here to spend the evening with you, kid. You couldn't come to the party, so...I brought the party to you."
When Peter still didn't make a move to speak, May chuckled.
"Pete, are you going to let him stay?"
Peter looked at his aunt, then back to Tony. "I don't...I don't want you to have to bother..." He shrugged.
"It's not a bother."
Peter shrugged again. It seemed to be the only thing his body could do at that point.
"I don't want you to get sick."
Tony gave him a look, then spoke in his most assured voice. "Billionaires don't get sick." Peter couldn't help but laugh, which led to him having a coughing fit, which led to Tony wincing in apology.
"Sorry."
Peter waved a hand. "It's fine."
Why though…Why would Tony want to be here with him when he was all gross and sick?
Tony studied him for another second, then walked in and chose a spot on the couch, sitting and crossing his legs on the coffee table.
"Come on." He patted the cushion next to him. "This'll be good. Mentor-mentee bonding time."
May gave Peter a small smile. "He knows the risks, and he's stubborn. You may as well take him up on his offer."
Peter shrugged. Again.
"Okay. But-but only if you're sure." He looked to Tony.
The man gave him a softer smile, then.
"I'm sure."
May returned to the kitchen to dish out soup. "You want soup, Tony?"
"Please."
By this point Peter had finally shuffled his way to the couch, and Tony stifled a smile and all but yanked him down next to him.
May brought over two bowls of ramen soup and a plate of crackers moments later, and shot Tony a look.
"You can stay, but you're going to keep your shoes off my coffee table."
Tony quickly pulled them down, taking the soup as he did. "Got it. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
May stepped back after she'd given Peter his bowl and took in the whole scene, of Tony Stark eating soup and crackers with her under-the-weather teenage nephew.
Peter saw his aunt pull out her phone, and then…wait, was she taking a picture? He tried not to groan.
Opportunity lighting in her eyes, May went to the kitchen and collected her purse, then returned and gave Tony a wry smile.
"I'm taking advantage of your babysitting and I'm going to run some errands," she told him. Not asked.
Peter scoffed, his sickness taking the attitude out of it. "C'mon, May, I'm not that young."
May gave him a pointed look. "There's only one person I know who could keep you from going out as Spider-Man or doing some other stupid thing when you're sick, and he's sitting right next to you." Peter blushed, and Tony gave him a cheeky smile. "Plus if anything goes wrong, you know, with your spider bite, I figure having a genius around can't hurt."
Tony took the silent message.
Watch out for him. I don't know what happens when a spider mutant gets sick.
"Don't spill on my couch." She pointed at them. "Love you Pete."
She slung her purse over her shoulder and swept through the door, locking it behind her.
Peter turned to look at Tony, who was giving him an odd stare. "Have you gone out as Spider-Man when you were sick before?"
As Peter stuttered to answer, Tony sighed.
"Who am I kidding? You're Peter Parker, of course you have."
Peter glared. "I didn't know I was sick, okay? I'd been feeling off, but I thought it was just..." he looked away.
"Thought it was what?"
Peter didn't meet his eyes. "It was a bad day. Anniversary of Ben's death. Karen told me I seemed sick and that I should go home, but I ignored her because I figured I was just upset."
Tony nodded solemnly.
Peter shook his head to clear the emotions from the past trying to reach him again.
"I'm usually very careful."
Tony snorted. "Did that hurt you to say?"
Peter looked too tired to argue, and the man placated.
"Okay, okay. You're sick. I'm done." He gestured to the TV. "How about you pick a movie. Let's get this recoup night started."
Peter hesitated with half a saltine in his hand. "Mr. Stark, you shouldn't miss your whole party."
"If someone mentions my party one more time-"
Peter looked irritated. "It's your party! And you're not there!"
"Exactly. It's my party, which means I can choose whether or not I show up."
Peter scooped some soup with his spoon. "But aren't you supposed to be a good host or something?"
"People only go for the drinks, kid. No one will notice I'm gone. Except for Pepper, but she's used to me pulling crap like this." Peter knew he was partially fibbing, but in a conceding gesture, he sank back into the couch, letting his tiredness lull him into a comfortable daze.
"Thanks, Tony," he said quietly, and the man gave his shoulder a bump.
"Don't mention it. Now hurry and pick a movie." Peter glared at him, but then it turned into a sneeze. He held a hand over his messy face. "You need tissues?" Tony asked. Peter nodded, and Tony went to the kitchen where he grabbed the whole box and plopped it on the coffee table in front of him.
"There."
Tony finished off his soup and crackers, taking them to the sink.
When he got back, Peter was just spooning out the last of his.
"I can take that," Tony offered, but Peter cut in.
"Oh, I was going to have more."
Tony nodded. "Right. Your spidey metabolism. More soup, coming up."
Peter could not believe what was happening. He was being served soup by Mr. Stark. And being fetched tissues...And it was weird. And nice.
"Let's watch Psych," Peter said as he took the refilled bowl from the man.
Tony nodded. "Sounds good. Fri..." The name of his AI died in his throat.
Peter snickered. "We're poor. You have to actually use the remote."
He smacked his shoulder. "Since you're sick I won't call you what I was going to."
Peter tucked into his second bowl of soup while Tony got the show on.
When Peter mentioned feeling cold, Tony got up and fetched his blanket from his bed, tucking him into the couch in an oddly domestic gesture.
Two episodes, another bowl of soup, and a plate of crackers later, Peter felt like he was barely keeping his eyes open. Tony noticed but didn't try to keep him awake. He'd need extra sleep if he wanted to get better. So he pushed play on the next episode, and leaned into Peter just a little.
A sudden explosion at a motel halfway through the episode sent Tony scrambling for the volume, but when he looked to Peter, the kid was out like a light. He slowly re-situated himself, turning the TV off and closing his eyes. He may as well get some sleep too; he didn't always sleep the best back at the tower.
A few minutes into his rest, he felt Peter move around, tucking himself further into his side. Tony froze, then let himself relax against the kid. He put an arm around his shoulder, smiling when Peter sighed in his sleep.
When Peter first woke up, he didn't know where he was.
Until he saw the TV in the living room, and the couch, and Tony— Tony?
He lifted his head, horrified to realize it had been resting against his mentor's chest.
Peter felt a deep blush creep across his cheeks and he tried to maneuver himself out of Tony's space, but the movement woke his mentor.
"Hey, Pete," Tony said with a voice that was half-asleep.
Peter smiled half-heartedly, still embarrassed. "Hey. I didn't know you stayed all night..?"
Tony breathed a light laugh. "Yeah. I wasn't planning on it, but then you passed out on me and I didn't really have a choice."
Peter's face went redder. "Sorry."
"Nah, it's okay, kid."
"I-Is May..?"
"She went to her shift at the hospital. I told her I'd stay with you till she got back."
Peter thought that through, then— "Wait, what? That's tonight. You're going to stay here all day?"
Tony shrugged. "I can't work in the lab without my intern, and I'd prefer not to get dragged into party cleanup or work from Pepper. You're my out, kid."
Peter sat back against the couch cushions. "Oh...okay. Well, thanks."
"No problem. How are you feeling?"
Peter gave himself a quick assessment. His nose was still stuffed, but his head was a bit clearer and his throat didn't feel like sandpaper anymore.
"A little better."
"Good. How about you go shower if you can, and change. I know you're just going to sit on the couch all day, but it's a simple thing that really helps; trust me."
Peter stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
"Even superheroes get sick."
Peter slowly got off the couch and stood. "Yeah, yeah."
"Do you think your stomach could take toast?"
Peter grimaced and shook his head.
"Eggs?"
Peter thought for a moment, then nodded. "I think so."
Tony clapped his hands together. "Perfect."
Half an hour later, Peter was clean and dressed, his wet curls left to dry however they were going to. He walked into the main part of the apartment to Tony scooping eggs out of a frying pan and onto two plates. "Wow, I didn't know you cooked," Peter commented as he sat at a counter stool to observe.
Tony got caught staring at Peter's head. "I didn't know you had such curly hair. Geez, kid, you must put a lot of product in it."
Peter shrugged. "Yeah. May says she likes it better this way, but it just gets in the way so I always..." Peter caught Tony still staring him down and he scrunched his eyebrows. "What?"
"I like it. It suits you. And makes you look younger than you already do, so like, 12. But you'll appreciate that when you're older."
"Thank you..?" Peter accepted the plate of eggs he offered him.
"Oh, and make sure you take your medicine." He picked up the bottle from the sink and popped it down in front of him. Peter unscrewed the lid and poured a generous amount of the reddish liquid into the cup, and Tony's eyes widened. "Woah, kid, I think that's plenty."
"Metabolism, remember?" Peter smiled.
"Oh...Yeah. Stuff I've never thought about."
Peter downed the cherry-flavored juice, screwed the cap back on, and started on the eggs.
One bite in, his eyes went up to Tony. "These are really good. Way better than May makes—"
He cut off. "You can't tell her that though."
He chuckled. "Your secret's safe with me. Though I don't know how May could not know by now that her cooking's not the greatest."
"Oh, she knows. She would just be really mad if some 'spoiled billionaire' came in here and made better eggs than she does."
Tony frowned. "Is that what she thinks of me?"
Peter grinned. "She used to. Way before you ever showed up at our apartment, though."
Tony breathed a laugh, again reminiscing at how close he'd come to this kid and his aunt over just a few months.
When Peter finished that plate of eggs and another, Tony washed both of their dishes, 'only because you're sick.'
Then Peter buried himself in the couch for an afternoon of movie-watching.
"You can pick this time," he told Tony. "It's only fair, since you skipped a party for me."
Tony settled onto the couch next to him. "Which reminds me...why did you text Happy yesterday? Why didn't you just text me?" Peter went uncomfortable-quiet, messing with the blanket on his lap. His silence was better than him lying, Tony thought. Although silence from Peter Parker was cause for concern in itself.
"Hey, I won't be mad," he clarified. "I'm not mad. I'm just curious, is all."
Peter took a deep breath. "I mean, I felt bad that I had to miss it, and I didn't want to tell you." He sniffed. "And then I figured if I told Happy I would bother you less." He shrugged.
Tony looked at him with a concern he seemed to only show Peter.
"Are you afraid of me?"
Peter felt a familiar pink return to his cheeks as he felt Tony watch him. "I…Well you're my mentor, and you're...you." He stared religiously at the carpet, now. "I just don't want to bother you."
Tony put a hand on his shoulder, making Peter look up.
"Pete...nothing you could do would make me stop liking you, or stop having you around, or whatever else you think." Peter felt pressure behind his eyes, but not from his cold. "I would never do that to you. Okay?"
Since when had Mr. Stark gotten so soft? Peter nodded, quiet.
"I'm proud of you. To be such a good kid at 16..."
Peter smiled, his eyes warm. "You got my age right."
Tony's hand squeezed his shoulder, his face soft.
"From now on, you text me, okay? I mean, you can text Happy if you want; he secretly likes it even thought he wouldn't admit it on his deathbead." He cleared his throat. "But I won't be annoyed. I just want to help you when you need it."
Peter nodded. "Okay."
Tony's hand left his shoulder, and Peter silently missed the contact.
"How does National Treasure sound?"
Peter sneezed, then, and reached for the box of tissues on the table.
"I'll take that as a yes."
He pulled up the movie and started it. "Do you want popcorn? Or some other snack? I don't know what you guys have in your pantry, but since you've got a fast-metabolism spider-kid to feed, I'm sure it's well-stocked."
Peter nodded. "I feel bad about how much May has to spend on food."
Tony glanced toward the kitchen, and Peter could practically see the gears in his head working.
"Mr. Stark..." he warned.
"Yes?" He turned to him innocently.
Peter gave him a look. "You are not going to buy us food."
The man pretended to be surprised. "What? Now why would I do that?"
Peter smirked but didn't press it.
Tony raised his hands in defeat. "Okay, I won't buy you food. Don't want you to be mad."
Peter relaxed again, getting comfortable for the movie.
When Peter got home from school two days later, actually relieved to be back at school because it meant he wasn't sick anymore, he dropped his backpack on the floor and went straight to the kitchen for a snack.
Tony, true to his word, had stayed until May got home that night. It had taken the sequel to National Treasure and a few episodes of Merlin, plus a trip to the roof 'for sunshine and fresh air, because it's good for you.' Actually, he'd stayed for dinner too, because May had invited him to, and they had pizza together. And then he'd gone back to the tower to 'deal with Pepper,' but he'd still taken the time to stay in touch with Peter. He'd texted him over the next couple days to see how he was or distract him with new suit ideas.
Peter opened the pantry doors, stomach grumbling, and his mouth fell open. He couldn't stop the smile that stretched across his face, even as he shook his head. He said he wouldn't…
He grabbed a shiny, new Mr. Stark-purchased protein bar, then suited up and swung to the tower.
When he got to the penthouse floor, he ripped off his mask and walked straight in on a surprised Mr. Stark.
"Kid, what-"
Peter tossed the protein bar wrapper onto the coffee table.
"I just had an after-school snack," he said casually.
Immediately understanding flashed in Mr. Stark's eyes. "Oh? Did you like it?"
Peter nodded. "Yeah, it was really good. Tony, you said you weren't going to buy us food!"
"Actually, I didn't. Stark Industries bought that."
Peter shook his head, but he wasn't angry, not really.
They stayed in a lock for a moment, the two of them having a silent argument. Then Peter moved forward, sitting on the couch by his mentor and throwing his arms around him.
"Thank you," Peter mumbled into his shoulder, and Tony's arms came up to return the gesture.
"Any time, kid." His voice was soft.
Peter pulled back, then noticed the tissues on the table in front of Mr. Stark.
"Wait. Are you..?"
Tony pitched forward and knocked the box from the table. "No."
Peter grinned, now noticing more evidence of the man's illness on the kitchen counter–zinc lozenge wrappers, empty tea mugs, a bottle of medicine. "I'm sorry, but you insisted on staying..."
Tony waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know."
Peter suddenly sprang up off the couch, and Tony watched after him.
"That much of a germaphobe, kid?"
Peter ran to the elevator. "I'll be back!"
"Where are you going?"
The elevator doors shut before Tony could get another word in.
Peter swung back to his apartment in Queens, grabbing his backpack from the floor and packing it with a change of clothes and a handful of the snacks Tony had bought. Then he sent May a text, and set off swinging for the tower again.
When he ducked into the elevator he took his suit off and stashed it in his backpack, putting on the sweater and sweatpants he'd brought.
The elevator dinged at the penthouse, and Peter stepped out.
Mr. Stark was on the couch where he'd left him, and he gave him a curious look.
"You pack for a sleepover?"
Peter walked in and set the backpack down, shrugging. "That depends on if I fall asleep during the movie." He set to work pulling the snacks out of his backpack while Tony watched, a soft smile on his face.
"You didn't have to, kid."
"It's what you did for me."
Peter crashed onto the couch next to Tony, and the man's hand instantly tugged him close. "Thanks, kid."
"'S no problem. Didn't want you to be bored."
Peter had secretly worried Mr. Stark wouldn't want him there, especially after they'd spent so long together just a few days ago. But Tony had told him not to be afraid of him, and he was trying. The man had sounded sincere enough that Peter wanted to try and trust him.
They got through two more episodes of Merlin before Peter sat up.
"I can make you food. Do you want food?"
"Sure. As long as you cook better than May."
"Oh, I am definitely better." He stood and wandered to the kitchen, trying to recount a time he'd actually cooked. "Um, you know, my canned soups are really good."
Tony chuckled. "Make whatever you can find. You'll be eating it too."
Peter settled on soup for Tony and frozen pizza for him. He had had enough soup this past week. He preheated both ovens, then decided to go the extra mile and throw together a salad kit from the fridge that he guessed Pepper had bought. He was trying to be a little healthier.
As he finished tossing the salad, the ovens were ready, and he put in two pizzas, then set the salad in its bowl in the fridge.
When he got back to Tony, his eyes were closed and he was leaned back comfortably against the cushions. Peter watched him for a few seconds, and he could tell from his long, slow breaths that he was asleep. He didn't want to disturb him, so he sat on the other couch, throwing a blanket over his lap and pulling out his phone. A sneaky smile tugged across his face, and he held up his phone, zooming in on Tony's dozing figure.
He took a couple pictures with him in it too, then quickly pulled down his phone, like Tony would catch him even in his sleep.
His mentor looked so peaceful. Peter hoped part of the reason was because he was there.
30 minutes later, the oven was beeping, and Peter could smell the pizza from where he was sprawled out on the couch scrolling through Instagram.
He threw down his phone and walked to the oven, checking on his way to see that Tony was still snoozing. He pulled the pizzas out, cutting them and then leaving them to cool for a minute, and then he sat at a counter stool, reading a text from May.
Have fun with Tony. :)
Peter sent her a text back.
Thanks! I might spend the night if that's ok
A few seconds passed.
Of course. I larb you. See you tomorrow.
He jumped when he heard Tony shuffle on the couch behind him.
He slipped off the stool, turning to see his mentor blinking at him.
"You hungry?"
Tony yawned. "Mm, pizza."
"Oh…the pizza's for me," he said slowly, and when Tony looked confused, he said "Soup" and pointed to the stove.
"Oh."
"You can have some of both?" Peter suggested, and Tony shot him a thumbs up.
He brought the food over, then dashed back to the kitchen for napkins and utensils.
"Thanks, Pete." Tony surveyed the food with warm eyes.
"Yeah, no problem." Peter settled next to him. "More Merlin?"
"Yes." Tony didn't skip a beat, biting into a slice of pizza.
After Tony had finished eating, he fell asleep again, so Peter cleaned up their dishes and told Friday to turn the show off. It was late, anyway, so he figured he'd just go to sleep too.
When everything was washed up and put away, Peter sat down next to Mr. Stark and pulled a blanket over himself, curling up so he faced the man next to him. He didn't get too close, though…He didn't want a repeat of last time.
Tony shifted in his sleep, but his eyes stayed closed. Peter closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.
"Do you think he's a love child?"
A beat of silence.
"He does look like him."
The other one paused, seeming to study them both. "Wow, yeah, he does."
At that point, Peter felt Tony stir next to him. "Okay, how did you two get into my penthouse?"
Peter took that at his cue to 'wake up', and he opened his eyes to realize his head had been resting on Mr. Stark's shoulder. Two men were also staring at him like he was a new species of bug they'd never seen before.
His eyes widened.
"Colonel Rhodes. And-and Captain America. Woah." He pulled away from Tony, noticing that he kept a protective arm around his shoulders.
"Rhodey, Capsicle, meet Peter Parker. Who is not my love child." He gave them a look. "We're not even related."
Peter didn't know why that hurt a little. Steve held out a hand. "Nice to meet you, son." Peter shook it, meeting the man's strength. Steve gave him a slight raise of an eyebrow.
"Nice to meet you too."
Rhodey nodded and smiled. "Hey, Peter."
Peter answered with a breathless, "Hey. Uh, good to meet you."
He looked to Tony, who gave him a small nod, and then he looked back to the superheroes.
"I-I'm Spider-Man. If you know who that is."
Rhodey chuckled. "So you're the kid Tony won't shut up about."
"Okay, you're exaggerating," Tony argued.
That earned him a flat look from Rhodey.
"I'm not exaggerating about this."
Peter rubbed his neck nervously, then glanced to Steve, who looked a little guilty.
"So you're who I fought at the airport in Germany?" he asked.
Peter nodded. "That's me."
Tony suddenly waved his hand.
"Alright, alright. Both of you, out."
Rhodey help up a placating hand.
"We just came to check on you. Happy said you were sick, and we wanted-"
"-To see if I was drunk?" Tony asked with a raised eyebrow.
Rhodey shrugged. "Maybe."
Peter felt like he was suddenly a part of something he wasn't supposed to be involved in. He stood, grabbing his backpack from the floor.
"Uh, I'm gonna go. May will be wondering where I am..."
Tony gave him an apologetic look. "Okay, Pete. I'll talk to you later."
Peter gave a quick wave. "Bye."
"Bye, kid."
Peter was almost to the elevator, listening to Steve and Rhodey begin badgering Tony about a team meeting he kept pushing off, when he almost involuntarily turned around.
"Hey, guys, um-" All three men turned to look at him with blank faces. "You should cut him some slack. He really is sick." He clasped his hands nervously, catching Tony's fond smile before he gave a little wave.
"Anyway-"
He pushed the button for the elevator, darting in and catching Rhodey tease Tony, Tony reaching out to slap him on the arm, before the elevator doors slipped closed.
That evening, as he sat working on homework in his room, his phone buzzed with a call from Tony.
He picked it up eagerly, answering with a, "Hi."
"Hey, Pete. Sorry about those party crashers earlier."
"Oh, it's fine, I had to go home anyway, so..." Peter fingered the pencil laying on his desk.
"Thanks for hanging out with me yesterday," Mr. Stark said. "I had fun. You made being sick not so bad."
Peter felt warmth in his chest. "Yeah. It was fun."
Two beats of silence. "Do you want to come over to the lab tomorrow? We can make up for all of our sick time."
"Yeah, that sounds great."
He could hear Tony's smile in his words. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow, kid."
"See you."
Peter waited for him to hang up, and then he grinned.