I FOUND THIS ON TUMBLER THIS IS NOT MINE

-SICK PETER BY KLIMT-AND-CUMBERBATCH

"Mr. Stark...?"

Tony looks up from the holoscreens he's going over, finding one Peter Parker standing in the doorway to his lab, looking exceedingly pale and more than a little sweaty. And Tony can tell that from where he's sitting, which is a pretty good distance away.

He's on his feet at once, crossing the room to Peter's side. "Hey, kid. You alright?"
Peter shakes his head, and Tony notices how glassy his eyes are. "I, um. I'm"
"He's running a fever of 103.4 degrees, boss."
"Jesus - thanks, FRI. Kid, hey - c'mon, let's get you to a med bay and get you sat down, huh? What the hell are you doing here - ?"
"I was just finishing up my patrol, and I - oh," Peter groans suddenly, leaning over a bit.
"Pete?" Tony asks.
He doesn't get an answer. Instead, he gets Spider-Man puking all over the floor, including all over Tony's bare feet. The kid immediately looks up at him, tears in his eyes and spit dripping down his chin.
"I'm sorry," he croaks, then leans over and vomits again.
"Hey, don't be sorry," Tony says, trying not to lose his own lunch over the smell and feeling of upchuck between his toes. "C'mon, let's walk, okay?"
It takes a while - Peter's a little slow going and very much so still queasy - but they finally manage to get downstairs, and Tony lays Peter back on an exam table, wincing at the pallid sheen to the boy's skin. He does a quick scan with FRIDAY's help, and is relieved when he finds nothing serious going on.
"Just a little flu," he says quietly, smoothing Peter's hair back from his forehead. "You're okay."
"I'm sorry," Peter repeats, his cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry I came here."
"Stop apologizing," Tony says, his voice soft. God, he was garbage at this kind of thing. "Here, let's - get you out of your suit, and into bed."
He takes Peter back upstairs and to a guest bedroom, leaving him in privacy to change into some old clothes of Tony's he could sleep in. He panics once he's alone - what's he supposed to do for the rest of the night? Stay awake and make sure the kid didn't die?
Before he knows it, his phone is in his hand, and he's texting the only other person that he thinks could help with this.

Hey, Stranger Things. You still make house calls? TS
I'm not an MD, Stark. SS
And that's a poor euphemism, even for you. SS
It's not for me, Steph. The kid's here, and he's sick as a dog. I need help. TS
He got here and threw up twice, and he's got a pretty high fever. TS
I'll be right there. SS

Tony sighs in relief yet again, slipping his phone into his back pocket as he goes up to check on Peter.
"No puke this time, I hope?" He asks as he opens the door.
Peter is in the bed, tucked under the covers, and looking absolutely miserable. He shakes his head no, still looking a little green around the gills.
"Good," Tony says, coming to check his forehead. Yeah, definitely still warm.
"We'd best get some fluids in him," Stephen says as soon as he arrives, giving Peter a once over. Peter groans and covers his face with his hands.
"You called Doctor Strange?" he asks Tony, embarrassed.
"Yeah, you hear the first part of his name?"
Stephen rolls his eyes. "Tony..." He crosses the room to where Peter is, smoothing his shaking hand over his forehead and tutting softly. "A little warm. How're you feeling, Peter?"
"Like I got hit by a bus," Peter answers weakly.
Stephen nods, looking in his eyes. "Mm, okay. Looks like you've got the flu. We're going to give you plenty to drink and just let you rest up, okay?"
Peter nods. "'Kay."
Tony smiles a bit. "Atta boy," he says softly, coming over to fix his hair again. "What do you want? You want that - blue Gatorade? I've got a whole fridge of the stuff for when you come over."
Peter nods again, smiling just slightly. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad."
All three people in the room freeze.
Peter looks like he might puke again.
"I'll get that Gatorade, huh?" Stephen offers, heading out of the room.
Peter speaks first " Mr.Stark, I-"
Tony holds up a hand, shaking his head. "S'alright, kid. No worries."
Peter sinks back under the covers, closing his eyes.
Tony clears his throat. "Hey, on the bright side, with your metabolism, you'll be over this in no time. Nice and easy. Just gotta feel gross for a bit."
Peter nods again. "Yeah."
The silence is thick and heavy until Stephen gets back, helping Peter sit up and coaxing a bit of Gatorade into him. "We'll try some dry toast later," he suggests, one hand moving to rub Peter's back out of sheer habit. "Just fluids for now."
Peter closes his eyes again, and Stephen eases him back down to the mattress. He turns to Tony, keeping his voice low. "I'll be out in the living room," he assures, brushing his lips against Tony's cheek in passing.
Tony stays until he knows Peter's asleep. He comes to the head of the bed, leans over, and kisses his forehead ever so gently.
"Love you, Pete. Feel better."
When the door closes quietly behind him, Peter opens his eyes, smiling tiredly.
"Love you, too, Dad."