Peter sighed internally as he got dragged into the doors of some fancy building. Tony had convinced him to come to an event with him that he needed to go to—his reasoning behind Peter going with him was ‘I need somebody to entertain me, and you’re the perfect candidate’.
He’d gone to the last fancy event with him, which was the day before, and he really wished he hadn’t agreed to go to the next one—because his social battery was already drained, and it was the weekend. How is he going to survive school when it starts?
He wasn’t informed of the details of what the convention was even for; he was just told to dress somewhat decent, which usually meant he couldn’t wear a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt, which only made the idea of going that much worse.
Peter managed to find a suit to wear, Aunt May told him it was Uncle Ben’s old one he used to wear—so it was a little big on him, but they made it work.
He glanced down at the ground at the thought of Uncle Ben, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“How long are we gonna be here for?” He asked to distract himself, nudging Tony as the man flashed a quick smile at a group of people across the way, before giving his undivided attention to Peter, or at least most of it.
“Not long, maybe an hour or two. Trust me, I didn’t wanna come either.” He said with absolutely zero shame, not even lowering his voice as he wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders, continuing to walk.
Peter only had a few minutes with Tony before he was forced to socialize with other people—random strangers greeting him and asking him questions about his job at Stark Industries, apparently knowing who he was even if he didn’t know them. And at some point in time he had gotten stuck in a conversation with some middle aged man; the topic was currently his wife and kids, making Peter silently wonder if this is what being an adult was like.
After many, many minutes of talking about the man’s kids, he glanced over at Tony, who had managed to get dragged halfway across the room—a pleading look in his eyes as he desperately hoped that his mentor could make up some excuse, though it already looked like he was planning on it, clearly not having a very interesting conversation either.
It was only a few more moments until his knight and shining armor came, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when he saw him walking up out of the corner of his eye. He nodded along to whatever the man—he already forgot his name—was saying, trying to seem at least a little bit interested.
Tony came strolling up, quickly reaching his hand out towards the slightly awestruck man. “Nice to meet you, sir.” He grinned, before gesturing towards Peter. “If you don’t mind, I’m just gonna snag him real quick, yeah? Gotta talk to him about something, teenager stuff, y’know?” He wrapped his arm around Peter, not letting the other man get another word out before he was spinning on his heel, dragging Peter along.
Tony snickered, bringing the two of them towards a more secluded area. “You owe me.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Technically, we’re even now—I came here strictly for you, so just see that as your repayment.” He said confidently, and the older man snorted in response. “Uh huh, okay.” Tony glanced around the room for a second, looking for somewhere they could get drinks.
While he did that, Peter swiftly slipped away from his mentor's hold so that he could sit on a nearby couch, slumping over slightly when he did, feeling a little off.
“I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?” Tony asked once he located the drink stand, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose, glancing over at the kid.
“Three full bottles of straight tequila.” Peter answered blankly, though it was clear he was being sarcastic—a little grin threatening to creep onto his face. Tony let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Coming right up.” He called over his shoulder as he advanced towards where the drinks were. Peter just watched him disappear into the crowd of people.
Those few minutes that he was gone felt like a few long, long hours for him—slumping against the armrest of the couch as he waited, sighing heavily at the thought of being in the overpacked building any longer.
“You with me, kiddo?” Peter jumped at the voice—shuffling around in his spot as he blinked the haziness out of his eyes, looking over to where the sound came from, only to see Tony—looking like he was going to reach out to wake him up, but hesitated when he opened his eyes.
He blinked a few times before he realized he must’ve fallen asleep—his face flushed in embarrassment, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry—fell asleep, I think.” He murmured, sitting up straight again.
“I noticed.” Tony said with a small, amused smile. He took a sip of his drink, stepping closer towards him. “You don’t look so hot, bud.” He observed, tilting his head to the side in newly found concern as he got a clear look at the kid.
Peter nodded, taking a few moments to actually get up from his seat on the couch—a little bit drowsy. “Yeah, don’t feel that good.” He answered, glancing up at him for a second.
Tony furrowed his eyebrows, reaching his hand out and putting the back of his hand on his forehead. Peter flinched a little, before leaning into it. “You’re a little warm, must've caught something from that place we went yesterday.” He sympathized, running his hands through his curls for a second, before retreating.
“You wanna go home? We’ve been here long enough.” Tony asked, though it seemed like more of a statement than a question as he gently urged him up off the couch.
“We don’t have to leave, if you don’t wanna.” He answered, even if he really hated the idea of staying any longer, he didn’t want to make Tony leave if he didn’t want to.
“We’re leaving, don’t worry.” He simply said, subtly ushering for him to stand up so they could leave.
It took a second for Peter to get up, feeling a little drowsy, but he made it there in the end. He sniffled and leaned against Tony’s side slightly, his mentor nudging him forward and pointing to where the exit doors were.
Tony pulled out his phone on the way out, his fingers swiftly typing up a text message that was most likely to Happy, so he could drive them home.
Once they exited the building, they waited around five minutes—Peter almost nodding off a couple of times—until Happy was there, honking dramatically as he rolled up, waiting for them to get in.
“Why didn’t you just drive yourself?” Happy grumbled, glancing in the rear view mirror. “What’s wrong with him?” He asked shortly after. The way Peter slumped against the seat, sniffling and occasionally coughing—it was most likely a dead giveaway, he sniffed in response.
“Kids sick, I think he picked up something from that event last night.” Tony replied, completely ignoring the man’s first question, probably on purpose.
“Tell him not to breathe too hard in this direction.” Was Happy's only response, before driving off and focusing on the road. Peter probably would’ve said something snarky to him, but he was too busy sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve.
Tony scoffed, before leaning over slightly. “How’re you feelin, bud?” He heard him say, but he didn’t acknowledge his question for a second—shuffling around and getting in a more comfortable position, or at least as comfortable as he could get.
“Crappy, body hurts.” He murmured, and he was about to say something more, but he was interrupted by a sudden coughing fit, hunching over as he tried to catch his breath, but continued coughing. Happy rolled up the little window, blocking them off from the front seat, though he was too busy wheezing to notice or care.
He felt Tony put a gentle hand on his back, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he began recovering. “You’re okay, breathe, kiddo.” He softly assured him, and Tony was glad Happy couldn’t see them now, because he would never live down how soft he was being with him.
“We’re almost there, we’ll get you some medicine, none of that nasty stuff, though, and maybe some soup, yeah? Does that sound good?” He listed off a few other things, taking his hand off of Peter’s back once he leaned back in his seat.
He hummed quietly in return, trying his hardest not to nod off on the drive there—his whole body ached, and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep.
He was too exhausted to notice the way his mind referred to the Avengers towers as his home.
It only felt like mere minutes before they were pulling into the driveway, he heard the driver's seat door slam shut as he hazily fluttered his eyes open—when he came to, he realized he was leaning against Tony with his head resting against his shoulder, it made him a little bit embarrassed, but he didn’t make an effort to move, he only closed his eyes again.
The feeling didn’t last very long before he was nudged awake again, and a small noise escaped his throat in protest.
“Gotta get up, kiddo, you can go back to sleep once you take some medicine, okay?” Tony gently ushered, tapping his cheek a couple of times. “I can't carry you, I’m too old for all of that.”
He groaned, but ended up complying. He rubbed his eyes and lightly stretched his arms out, waiting for his mentor to get out so he could crawl out that side. He contemplated making Tony carry him, but overall decided against the idea.
He sniffled and wiped off his raw nose again, before unbuckling his seat belt and crawling across the seat to get out, stumbling a bit when his feet hit the ground outside the car, holding onto the car door slightly to support himself.
It was a bit of a journey getting to the tower—and it was especially hard getting to the floor they needed to get to, considering how Peter almost collapsed in the elevator, and he was pretty sure he sneezed a total of eight times on the way to the living room. Tony murmured something about needing to disinfect the building, or maybe just burn the whole thing down.
He shuffled over to the couch once they successfully made it, Tony rushing off to go get him some medicine, most likely NyQuil—he absolutely dreaded the thought of it, bundling himself up in blankets.
He felt all feverish and weird, his body aching and shivering, and he fully couldn’t breathe out of his nose—he thought of the things he’d do to whoever got him sick, he grumbled in complaint, he hoped they were happy right now.
“Here, you gotta take this,” Tony showed up beside him, putting a bottle of NyQuil, and a lid full to the brim of the stuff on the table beside him exactly like he guessed. “I know I said I wouldn’t give you any of the nasty stuff—but I lied a little bit, it’ll make you feel better.” He admitted.
He whined dramatically in protest, staring the cap full of NyQuil down, mentally and physically preparing for it.
He sighed, before grabbing it with shaky hands and immediately pouring it into his mouth—shuddering as he slammed the cap back onto the table, coughing a few times in pure disgust.
“Please tell me that’s all I have to take.” He pleaded desperately, glancing towards Tony as he walked into the living room again, a bottle of water acquired.
“Did I forget to tell you that you had to take two of those? You gotta double your dose, y’know, enhanced metabolism and all.” He answered with a tilt of his head, seeming completely serious—and Peter’s heart dropped, as did his jaw.
“Kidding.” He answered shortly after once he had seen the pure horror that had filled the kids eyes, he laughed in amusement at the reaction. “Move over, I’m sitting here.” He demanded, though there was no true authority in his tone.
Peter shuffled over, waiting for the man to get comfy as he snatched at least four blankets that were folded. He felt a little bad—making a mental note to fold them later, or maybe he should wash them, that’d probably be better.
Once Tony had sat down, Peter sneakily began crawling over, definitely not being obvious at all. He draped one of his blankets over Tony carefully, and then rested his head on his chest, hoarding the rest of the blankets and bundling himself up like a cocoon.
“What’re you doin’, kid?” He asked softly, a small and humorous smile creeping onto his face. He didn’t get a response back, but he was just grateful Peter was generous enough to spare him a blanket.
Tony gently carded his fingers through his hair, not taking his eyes off of him for a while—the sight of him now sound asleep, not a worry in his mind, was definitely a vast difference to how the kid usually was. It was nice to see him just being a kid, like complaining about how medicine tastes, and falling asleep on the couch.
“Goodnight, Pete, I love you.” He whispered, and assuming that he had already fallen asleep, he planted a gentle kiss onto his forehead.