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Peter Parker wasn’t exactly known for getting to places in a timely manner.
Actually, most people who knew him would go as far as to say he did the exact opposite.
Peter Parker was known for getting there late and then ditching not even five minutes in.
Today had been absolutely no different.
Well-… almost.
He was currently in Tony Stark’s passenger seat on his way to the nationals for academic decathlon, which was to be held at Midtown Highschool. As soon as the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Mr. Tony Stark found out about his apprentice’s involvement in his team’s position as finalists (when he showed up, of course), he had made it what seemed to Peter as his life’s mission to show up to every single meet. Tony had somehow miraculously evaded the paparazzi, a feat for which Peter was eternally grateful for, and he planned for it to stay that way.
Peter had been being quizzed by Tony for approximately twenty minutes of the thirty minutes total when out of nowhere, the billionaire asked “So, how are you feeling?”
And wasn’t that a question and a half.
The truth was, Peter had been feeling a bit fuzzy all day. He wasn’t sure if it was the excitement, or his lack of sleep, but either way, he could only hope it wouldn’t blossom into a headache.
He really, really didn’t need that.
“Oh my god Mr. Stark, you have no idea how excited I am! Do you know how amazing it would be if we won at nationals!?” exclaimed Peter, conveniently not mentioning the looming threat.
He received a chuckle for his excitement, but it was more than most would see in their whole life. “Do you have a specific restaurant you’d recommend for a victory feast? Bills on me.”
They hadn’t even won yet, and Mr. Stark was already offering to pay for dinner? Peter gave a thoughtful hum before countering “What if we lose?”
The great Tony Stark didn’t even take a moment to think before saying “Then we can call it a participation feast or something, I don’t care. The point is, I’m proud of you for getting this far, and dinner’s on me. Now, you didn’t answer the question; where am I taking you and your aunt for dinner?”
After giving it some thought, Peter responded “Could we get Thai? May and I always go to Prachya Thai whenever we eat out, it’s like a mini tradition.”
Tony nodded with a smile as he pulled into the parking lot. He managed to find a spot close to the door and pulled in before unlocking the door for Peter to get out. As he all but bolted out of the car, Peter gave a rushed “Thank you so much Mr. Stark! I’ll come find you and may when we’re done!”
And so Tony was left to wait for the doors to open.
Later, when he did walk in the doors, the first thing Tony would notice would be Peter Parker’s lack of a presence in the room.
Little did anyone else know, Peter Parker had been forced to retreat to a dark bathroom thanks to nothing more than a headache.
It had started as soon as he’d entered the overcrowded gymnasium. The fuzzy feeling had gotten infinitely worse, and his vision became blurry and speckled, both gradually getting worse until he could barely stand.
It was fine though.
Peter would be fine.
Ignoring the fact that he had brain fog so bad he couldn’t think.
And the fact that he felt so weak he hadn’t moved at all since he’d collapsed against the cold, stone wall after drunkenly excusing himself from his AcaDec team.
Oh, and also not paying any mind to how much he wanted to puke.
As well as how, whenever he moved as much as his fingers, the world spun in circles around him and he’d sway where he sat.
It was just a headache.
He was simply being dramatic.
Like usual.
Peter’s phone had been silently vibrating for an unknown amount of time in his pocket, but he hadn’t even had the brain power to register it properly, save for the stabbing it caused in his brain. It was only when he heard a knock on the washroom door that he became a bit more grounded, and it was only because of the increased pain it caused. “Kid, you in there?”
It was… someone… and their voice was… soft..? Fatherly.
An adult male, most likely.
Peter just let his eyes slip shut, sighing gently when it soothed the ache.
The man spoke again with another knock, this time more urgent.
“Kid- I need you to unlock this door, alright?”
It reverberated through his skull and he simply groaned as a wave of exhaustion ran through him, letting his chin drop to his chest. Peter was present enough to catch the sound of footsteps and keys on the other side of the door, but it only made his head hurt worse. He curled up in a ball on the cold tile, too fatigued to care about anything other than not being vertical any longer.
After however much time has passed of Peter laying motionless and in pain atop the dirty tile, he heard a click and light streamed in. The brightness sent hammering thuds through his skull for a few moments before calming down back to the consistent throb that it had been before. He felt someone who smelled distinctly of motor oil crouch down beside him, and his lack of a tingle told him that he would be safe with them. If Peter had been any more present at that point, maybe he would have recognized the man as Tony Stark.
The older man spoke words, but the only ones comprehensible to Peter in his haze of fatigue. It was something about his Aunt going home? Or something? He wasn’t quite sure. All it did was cause waves of pain to shoot through his head, and nausea through his stomach.
Very soon after, a gentil, callused hand met his forehead and Peter sighed. The simple touch helped immensely to soothe the paulsing. He heard the owner of the hand say softly, barely above a whisper, “Karen, run vitals.”
The voice of the AI in Peter’s watch responded immediately with a quiet-yet-firm “Peter’s body temperature is normal. Heart rate is slightly elevated and he is showing some signs of distress. There are no signs of external, or internal injuries. Peter does not seem to be in imminent danger.”
After saying a small “Thank you, Karen” to his AI, Tony spoke slowly and gently to his mentee. “Pete… you have to let me know when you don’t feel good… you can’t just leave without a word. Now, I’m gonna carry you to the car. Aunt Hottie was only about half-way here, so she’s turning around to set up your room; we’ll meet her there, and then you can rest in your own bed. You think you can move?”
Peter simply hummed at that, saying a small “‘ts jus’ a headache, m’st’r St’rk… ‘ts oh-kay…” as he let himself be scooped up, fending off a blood rush as well as swallowing back a bit of vomit as he tucked himself into the soft stitches of Tony’s cashmere sweater. The halls were silent as he was carried through them, neither of them speaking at all. Tony carried him through the twists and turns of the nearly empty school until they reached the doors to the outside world. Before opening them, he shifted the boy in his arms to make sure that Peter would be entirely unaffected by the change in lighting, making sure to support his head the whole time. Peter was infinitely grateful for that small act of kindness in the sea of dizziness and fatigue.
As soon as the doors were opened, Peter’s eyes exploded with stabbing pain that traveled all throughout his already pounding skull. He made a small, pitiful noise, almost like a dying animal, and Tony paused. He said softly “You ok, kiddo?” and Peter nodded, instantly regretting the action for how much it made his head spin and curling up further.
He was by no means ok, but it would be fine. Tony didn’t need to worry about how far up Peter’s stomach had traveled into his throat. That was Peter’s issue to deal with and Peter’s alone.
It was only when they reached the car and Tony was about to crouch down to put Peter into the pasanger seat that Peter mumbled defeatedly “‘m gonna miss it… can’t miss it… promised MJ…”
Tony chuckled as he ever so gently got Peter buckled in. While he got the blanket from the back seat, he said “Fri, be a dear and lean Peter’s seat back to ten degrees.”
The AI said quietly “Sure thing, boss.” before lowering the seat back to the requested angle. Peter immediately felt the difference.
Just then, Tony spoke again. “And Peter-” he paused to wrap him in the blanket, crouching down on the pavement and gently rubbed his knee. “MJ was the one who came and asked me to check on you. She’ll understand.”
Just for good measure, Peter mumbled “Fri, text MJ that ‘m sick an’ go’in home.”
The AI responded even quieter than before, “Sure thing, Peter. Would you like to be notified of her response?”
Peter gave a small “mmm…. No, ‘ts okay…” and Tony stood up, gently closing the door before making his way to the driver’s side and getting in.
Peter brought the blanket up to cover his eyes as Tony pulled out of the parking lot. As soon as they started driving, Peter’s stomach gave a sickening slosh and his head started spinning again. He wrapped both arms around his stomach and curled up, hidden entirely from Tony and the world. Evidently having seen the movement, Tony whispered softly, taking one hand off the wheel to place it on Peter’s shoulder, “My Tony tingle is telling me this is more than just a headache.”
Peter grumbled at the stupidity before saying, barely audible, “Well ’t’s wrong. ‘t’s jus’ what headaches are.”
Rubbing the tension gently from Peter’s neck, Tony countered, still speaking extremely gently, “Kid, headaches are just pain. They don’t cause muscle weakness, they don’t cause brain fog, and they don’t cause slurred speech. The only reason we aren’t going straight to med bay is cause Fri told me you’re uninjured. Now, are there any other symptoms I don’t know about?”
Peter made an incomprehensible sound but didn’t elaborate, and the two were left in almost complete silence, save for Peter’s occasional groans and whimpers, for the rest of the twenty minute drive back to Peter and May’s apartment.
By the time they got there, Peter was pretty sure he would both puke and pass out if he tried to stand up and walk up the stairs to his apartment. The pain in his head was an awful, pounding, throbbing pressure. It encased his entire skull, causing his brain to malfunction and send signals where they didn’t belong.
If only it hadn’t been so loud and bright in that room; maybe if he didn’t have his enhanced senses, then this wouldn’t be happening.
After the car had been parked, Peter heard some shuffling and then the door on Tony’s side opened, soon fallowed by the door beside himself. He heard his mentor say quietly “I’m going to take the blanket, okay?” and he responded with a pained whimper.
The blanket was lowered slowly, but as soon as it was off his eyes, even though they were closed, Peter’s head exploded with pain. He felt like he was on a ship in the middle of a stormy sea. Had he been swinging like this, he without a doubt would have fallen within seconds. Just as he was about adjust to the new lighting, he was scooped up and his equilibrium was entirely thrown off once again. Peter felt his head be supported more than any other part of his body, similar to what you’d do for a baby. He was carried through the parking lot and once they arrived at the stairs, Tony took them one by one. He was careful not to jostle Peter around too much, lest it make the symptoms worse.
When they at last made it upstairs, May was already waiting with the door opened. As soon as she saw them she said softly “Oh Peter, baby… come on inside; his bed is ready.”
After closing the door behind them, May led Tony to Peter’s room. The lights throughout the entire house were off which did wonders for his head, as well as the lights in his room. His curtains were drawn and there was a plate of saltines and a tall glass of water on his bedside table. As soon as Peter was left to melt into his bed, the worst of the pain was relieved. He sighed as his soft weighed blank was pulled over him by May. Once Peter was comfortable, May crouched down, Tony watched by the door, and carted her fingers through his hair. She kissed Peter’s forehead as a mother would to an infant and whispered “Can you stomach some crackers and water?”
Peter hummed quietly, but said in a voice slightly slurred by fatigue “Can’t sit up. Dizzy…”
Hand still gently rubbing the tension from his scalp, May said quietly “You only have to sit up a little bit; and if it helps at all, I can support you from behind. You don’t have to eat right then, either. You can take some time to recover first and I can rub your neck and for you if you want.”
Peter gave a non-committal hum, and he soon felt himself be shifted. Being moved upright instantly sent unimaginable pain through his entire head and he groaned, silently begging for May to stop moving him. She didn’t stop, but she did kiss his forehead. The world was spinning so much he was physically swaying, and he could’ve sworn he was about to pass out.
Once Peter was just upright enough that he wouldn’t choke, May squeezed herself between him and the bed frame. He tried to support himself through the blinding pain, but it was exceedingly difficult and he was beyond relieved when it was all over and he was able to let his body give out. True to her word, May gentilly rubbed the tension from his neck while they waited for the pulsing to calm down. Out of nowhere, Tony asked from where he leaned against the doorframe “Does this happen often?”
May nodded as she fixed Peter’s blankets. “It happens once every month or two; sometimes twice a week. It’s the only thing that’ll stop him from patrolling. Usually it happens later in the day and he’s already at home, though.”
Peter hummed in agreement.
They sat in silence for a while longer, May still massaging Peter’s neck as his body gradually adjusting to the changed positions. After the pain had equalized to a dull ache, he said just above a whisper “I’m ready now.”
Tony came over and placed the plastic cup in his hands, May immediately covering them with her own. Peter felt his hands start to shake the moment he lifted them up and he was positive the only thing preventing spillage was May’s presence. He took slow sips, trying not to push his luck but knowing he needed water. It settled uncertainty in his stomach, but he managed about half before he started to feel genuinely at risk of vomiting. Peter gave a small, nauseated whimper before slurring out “‘m done, May…” and the glass was taken from his hands by Tony.
While Tony placed the cup on the bedside table, Peter wrapped both arms around his middle. May gently rubbed up and down his side, the gesture providing all the comfort he’d ever need and more. At some point during the exchange, May asked gently “Can you try some crackers?”
Peter simply nodded, somehow once again forgetting how sick it’d make him feel. He groaned, shutting his eyes tight and curling into his aunt right before he felt Tony take his hand and gently squeeze it. After a silent moment filled with strained mumbles, Tony asked “Is there anything I can do to help, kid?”
Peter took a moment to breath before saying quietly “Could you get me a few ice packs, Mr. Stark?”
Or, that was what he had intended to say. What Peter’s muddled brain actually conjured was something more along the lines of “wou gef ma fu ice scaps, m’ster St’rk?“
Tony just looked at him confused until May spoke up with a small smile. “He’s asking for ice packs.”
Peter hummed softly, eternally grateful that he didn’t have to repeat himself. He felt Tony’s hand leave his grasp and, if not for the gifts he knew the man would bring, he would have mourned the loss. As soon as Peter heard the door close, May said in a soft, joking tone “He’s such a dad… I’m almost jealous.”
Just as she kissed his aching head, Peter mumbled “Don be… love you lots, May…”
May smiled into his brown curls. She would have found it endearing if not for how ill she knew her nephew must be feeling. As she grabbed the plate of crackers from the side, careful not to jostle Peter, she whispered “I love you too, Peter. I love you so much, you wouldn’t even believe it…”
She didn’t say a word as she carefully placed the plate on his lap. Peter opened his eyes to a squint right as Tony opened the door holding two flexible ice packs, immediately going to sit at the edge of the bed and hand them to Peter. They felt far too cold to touch, to the point Peter was genuinely wondering how Tony had held them for that long. After a couple moments of debate over the next course of action, he mumbled a near silent “Need a tow’l.”
Tony turned to May, comically raising his eyebrow before asking sarcastically “Are we absolutely sure the kid isn’t drunk?”
Peter blinked tiredly, brain not really processing the words, but May had to hold back her laughter. With a satisfied smirk, Tony turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
The two remaining were sat in near complete silence, if not for Peter’s unusually heavy breathing. After a few seconds of neither moving, he grabbed a cracker. The fatigue in his bones was deep enough that it nearly caused physical pain, and his hand shook as soon as he attempted to raise it. Without any hesitation, May gentilly put her own hand over his to help stabilize it. Peter took a small nibble, then another, and another, and another, and then Tony got back with two towels.
Peter gave his stomach a break to process the first half of his cracker as he watched Tony sit back down to wrap the ice packs. One of the bags of what was essentially frozen obries was gentilly placed atop his forehead, the other being placed on his lap as the billionaire said quietly, yet still full of the usual sarcastic take on kindness, “Here you go, Pete.”
Taking the one hand remaining off of his middle, Peter took it and placed it on the back of his neck with a sigh. The pain was most definitely still there, but it was dulled.
That was all he needed.
It didn’t fix the awful churning of his stomach, nor did it fix the weakness and fatigue that had overcome him, but at the very least it helped with what had been a persistent pounding in every single atom of the tissues of his brain.
Still leaning back against his aunt, Peter continued nibbling the cracker. The three of them sat in silence until the plate was empty, and Tony took it from him. May, ever the caring person, said gently “Get some sleep, Peter. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He was out within ten minutes.