a/n: do y'all ever like,, read something you wrote years ago and just wonder WHY? like WHAT was going through my mind when i wrote the original versions of ALL of these chapters??? anywho, sickfic bc yes<3

•

Despite what many may believe, Peter is not impervious to getting sick. Pre-spider bite, he'd had a new cold every other week, with a dash of the flu sprinkled in every once in a while. And while it is true that his immune system gets incredibly enhanced following his mutation, he's not a God.

Spider-Man gets sick, just like every other superhero. (Except for Natasha, maybe? Peter has never once seen her sick, and he thinks it might actually be impossible.) However, a slight fever and a pounding headache, plus a hacking cough cannot dissuade him from lab day.

Because, it's lab day. The one day of every week where Peter spends the entire day holed up in Mr. Stark's workshop with him. It's the best day of every single week of his life, and he's not exaggerating.

So, really, hiding a teensy little cold from his mentor so he can spend time with him won't hurt anyone, right?

Right. Totally.

Except, upon arriving at the tower, Peter already feels so exhausted and shaky that he might just face plant on the cool floor of the workshop when he reaches it. He'd forgone a ride from Happy, not wanting to raise the man's suspicion and have him alert Mr. Stark that something's wrong. Because of that, he'd swung to the tower, and he has never regretted something more.

He climbs into his room from the side of the building, not really wanting to explain Spider-Man in the lobby, and once he drops inside and collapses onto his bed, FRIDAY greets him cheerfully.

"Hello, Peter. Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark that you're here?"

"Ugh," the teen groans, his eyes slipping closed as he pants. "No, that's okay, FRI. I'll go find him, just. . . Just give me a minute."

"Okay, Peter."

Just a minute, he tells himself. To rest his eyes, that's all. He's out in seconds.

•

"—ete? Peter, wake up, buddy." A hand jostling his shoulder is what has Peter blinking awake, sleep filled eyes finding his mentor standing over him with a furrow in his brows.

"You good, kid? FRI said you've been here passed out for an hour. I was wondering where you were." Tony says, taking a step back once he realizes the teen is fully awake.

"An hour?" He cries in confusion, sitting up so quickly that his head swims. Then he processes the rest of what the man said and his eyes pop. "Oh! Yeah, no, I'm fine! Just didn't sleep much last night because I was studying for midterms."

The concern on Tony's face melts away as a grin slides over his lips. "Well, up and at'em, Spider-Baby. Your suit isn't going to fix itself." He claps his hands together with vigor, and Peter practically falls over himself to scramble over to his backpack.

"Right, got it!" He says excitedly, pulling out the crumpled multi-million dollar suit. There's a look in the billionaire's eyes like he wants to go on a tangent about not atoring it like that anymore, but he lets this one slide. Within minutes, they're down in the lab with the suit's circuitry splayed out for them to tinker with.

Peter's helpful for probably all of half an hour before he starts to flag. His eyes feel to heavy to hold open, and his mouth is cracked open just a bit to breathe because his sinuses are clogged, and he has to hold in a sneeze about twice every five minutes.

About the fourth time, he fails to hold it in, sneezing loudly in the otherwise undisturbed environment of the lab. Mr. Stark had some rock station playing in the background, though you'd think the room was dead silent by the way the man whips around to scrutinize him. "You getting sick?"

"No," Peter retorts just a little too quickly, eyes wide. He punctuates the word with another sneeze. Tony's eyes crinkle as he shakes his head.

"Alright, that's it, Roo, I'm taking you home."

"No!" Peter shoots to his feet, eyes pleading. "Please don't kick me out, I'm totally fine! It's just a cold!"

Tony's eyes flicker over his pale, wavering form for a few seconds before he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "No sick kids in the lab, bud." Peter opens his mouth to once again protest, but Tony beats him to it. "Let's head up to the penthouse and throw on a movie."

Peter bounces on his toes as he beams at his mentor. The billionaire rolls his eyes lightheartedly as he leads the boy from the lab, but there's a small smile on his lips.

"You up for Star Wars, kiddo?" He questions, dropping himself down onto the couch when they reach the floor.

Peter scoffs loudly as he plops down right into his side, always a little more clingy when he's sick. "Mr. Stark," he says, deadly serious, "if I ever say no to Star Wars, I've been body snatched."

Tony snorts. "That's what I thought. You heard the kid, FRI." The TV comes to life, and Mr. Stark turns to Peter to ask him which one he wants to watch, but his eyes are already drifting closed again. His jaw clamps shut, eyes sparkling. FRIDAY takes the liberty of choosing for them, and as the opening scene to Empire Strikes Back begins, Peter's head drops onto Tony's shoulder.

"G'night, Dad," the teen slurs, and in the next moment, his breaths even out as he falls asleep.

Tony startles, but he's relaxing as soon as he processes it. He smiles, pressing a kiss to Peter's unruly curls. "Night, son," he returns, wrapping his arm around him.

It's not long before he's dozing off too, and if FRIDAY saves picture evidence for her own pleasure, then that's nobody's business but hers.

And maybe Pepper.