It started as a sore throat.
Not even a particularly painful one. Just a slight tickle in the back of his throat, enough to annoy him but not painful enough to warrant any second thoughts. Sore throats and runny noses were common enough back at St. Galgani’s, it certainly wasn’t something he was concerned about. He’d take a look in the medicine cabinet before he went down for breakfast, there was a small collection of the typical over-the-counter meds on the bottom shelf, the same ones he had seen in the supermarket when one of his foster families had brought him along.
He just needed a tylenol, really. Or a throat lozenge. Something to knock the edge off.
It was going to be a quiet, simple kind of day. He’d gotten his results for his GED only yesterday afternoon, and now that he knew he had passed, a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He could breathe easier.
Peter rolled over and shoved his cold nose into Jack’s neck, snuffling like Harley did when he was tired. Jack turned his head to look at the clock on the nightstand. It was six o’clock. If he got up now it would be too early, breakfast was at nine. And he’d wake Peter, who needed the sleep. He didn’t really need a throat lozenge. Not really.
In fact, he might just be thirsty. He’d have a glass of water at breakfast and then it might all just fade away.
He woke up at eight to an elbow in the ribs, followed by a hissed apology from Dorian as he clambered over Jack to get out of the bed.
“You could have gone the other way,” Jack muttered, a sharp pain in his right temple alerting him to his newly formed headache.
“Don’t like the other way,” Dorian said in return, running his hand through his hair. It was no longer a buzzcut, not at the scruffy length it was now, and Jack knew he was eager for it to be back to normal. He had put on a brave face when Leon had shaved it, a rakish grin to match, but Jack had sat with him in the early hours of the morning while he cried and he knew it had cut deeper than he liked to show.
Harley strolled out of the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth, tilting his head back to keep the toothpaste in his mouth. “He likes to be difficult.”
Dorian flipped Harley off. “You like to walk around looking ugly.”
“You two are so mature,” Jack said, wincing as he sat up. “Where’s Peter?”
“Helping with breakfast like a little dork,” Harley said, backpedaling into the bathroom to spit. “Someone needs to tell him he won’t get extra credit for it.”
“It’s called manners,” Jack breathed, pressing his hands into the sheets in an effort to ride out the sudden wave of pain spiking through his head. What the hell was wrong with him? Of all the inconvenient things to happen to him in the last week, this had to take top prize.
Maybe he could take the day easy. Tell Tony he wasn’t feeling great and try to sleep whatever this was off. It wouldn’t kill him to just take a day, would it? He could try and help with meals tomorrow to make up for sleeping in all day today, and he was pretty sure it was a fair tradeoff.
“Oh,” Dorian said, hand on the doorknob. “I think Tony wants to have a celebration dinner tonight, what with you getting your GED and all. So don’t snack after lunch, he’s probably going to go all out.”
Shit. It was a horribly ungrateful first thought, he should be nothing but appreciative of Tony’s efforts, but the thought of sitting through dinner tonight with his head pounding made him want to cry and throw up, not necessarily in that order. Maybe it would all clear up by the time dinner rolled around. He wasn’t dying. Hell, some of the things he’d gone through at Galgani’s had made him feel like he was dying and he still got up the next day and pulled his weight.
It was just a cold.
He’d gotten too dramatic. He needed to get over it.
“Ow,” Dorian yelped, yanking his arm away from Peter’s pinching fingers. “Stop it, you little twerp. I’m going to strangle you in your sleep.”
“Stop stealing my pancakes,” Peter snapped, herding his plate behind a defensive arm. “I’m going to stab you with my fork.”
“There is more than enough for you two to share,” Pepper chided, giving Jack’s shoulder a gentle pat as she crossed behind him with her own empty plate. “And no stabbing or strangling anyone.”
“Are you going to finish that?” Harley asked, reaching over the table to point at Jack’s pancakes. “They’ve just been sitting there, and I’d hate for them to go to waste.”
Jack blinked and looked down at his plate, a wave of nausea turning his stomach at the thought of eating anything. “No, yeah. Go for it.”
Harley laughed in triumph and snatched them lightning-quick, stacking them on top of the pancakes he already had like a tower. “Thanks, Jacky.”
“You gave them to Harley ?” Dorian protested, looking at Jack with an affronted look on his face. “That ape? Are you kidding? You jerk!”
“You snooze, you lose,” Harley said with a grin.
“I’m going to stab you next.”
“No stabbing,” Pepper repeated. “Jack, darling, are you sure you didn’t want those?”
Jack forced a smile to his face and waved her off. “I grabbed too many, I’m sure.”
Pepper was still looking at him with concern, a slight frown at the edges of her lips, and Jack was tempted to cave right then and there, drop the mask and admit he wanted to go back to bed and take a bottle of aspirin with him. But there were already plans tonight. Plans that revolved around him, and if he claimed he was sick he’d ruin everything.
So he shook his head and pulled out the winning phrase. “Force of habit.” He added an embarrassed smile to the end to really sell it, and tries not to feel guilty when the concern on her face melts away to a soft understanding. It’s not a lie, really. They all tended to grab too much at dinner, fingers snatching while the muscle memory remained dominant.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Tony said, walking in and giving Pepper a kiss with a mug of coffee balanced in his hand. And then the attention was off Jack and he was safe.
“I’m going to let the boys eat your share next time,” Pepper said, giving his shirt a playful tug. “Then see how sorry you are.”
“I think they already have,” Tony said wryly, snatching the last four pancakes off of the stack in the middle. “Are you sure we’re making them enough?”
“Bernie’s more than ready to make them a whole new platter,” Pepper smiled. “I’m sure he’d reluctantly agree to make you some if you ask real nicely.”
“You pay a guy and what does it get you?”
“Illegal goods,” Dorian said smartly, giving Tony a smirk. “Exactly what? Well that depends on the guy.”
“You’re going to give me gray hairs. No, not illegal goods. No illegal goods.”
Dorian shrugged. “You clearly don’t know a guy.”
“Oh please,” Harley said. “The only guy you know was the one who smuggled you in chocolate that one time.”
“Which is technically an illegal good, dipshit.”
“Who got you chocolate?!” Peter cried, leaning forward with his elbows against the table. “How’d you get past ‘em?”
“And reveal my sources?” Dorian’s grin was wicked. “Peter, you wound me. I would never stoop so low.”
“Jack, can I knock him a good one?”
Jack had only been half following the conversation, but Dorian always needed a knock over the head, so he just nodded. “Go for it.”
“Aaaand that’s where we stop that,” Tony said, catching Harley by the collar as he stood up. He gently pushed him back down into his seat. “No violence before noon.”
“Can you tell me later?” Peter whispered across the table, grinning when Dorian gave him a little wink.
===============================================================
After breakfast he laid down on the couch, his arm thrown over his head, hoping that something in the cosmos of his body would shift and it all would settle. He just needed to ride it out. Harley and Peter were in the bonus room, he could hear their shouts from here, and he hoped nobody tried to throw a controller at anyone. He didn’t know where Dorian was, but he couldn’t smell anything burning, so it was probably alright.
“Hey kiddo.”
Jack lifted his arm off of his face and cracked his eyes open to look at Tony. The living room fan was spinning silently, something he could never really seem to get used to. The fan had been so loud at Galgani’s. “Hey.”
“Are you alright?”
Sharp, white-hot pain lanced behind his eyes. “Yeah, of course. Is something wrong?”
Tony quirked his eyebrows and sat down on the couch by Jack’s feet, the simple bend and sway enough to send Jack’s jaw clenching to ride out the pain of the movement. “Are you in more of a seafood mood or a steak mood?”
Jack gave a small hum of acknowledgment and let his arm fall back over his eyes. “Which one is more GED celebratory?”
“Who told you?” Tony announced, giving Jack’s leg a soft whack. “That was supposed to be a surprise!”
“Take a quick look at the hellions you adopted and tell me you expected a secret to stay a secret.”
“Well,” Tony said briskly. “We’ll still make it a celebration. We’ve been planning it for ages, we knew weeks ago you’d pass.”
“Weeks?” Jack sat up stiffly.
Tony shrugged. “Nobody doubted you, kiddo.”
They’d been planning this for weeks. And Jack had to go and get sick today. Of all days. And then he had been tempted to say something to ruin all their hard work. Sometimes he really was the selfish little asshole Farrian had always told him he was.
“You guys had too much faith in my math abilities, I barely skated by that one.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m not even entertaining that bullshit. Steak or seafood?”
“If he smelled fish he’d lose it and ruin the whole night right then. “Steak, please. If that’s okay.”
“More than okay,” Tony said, giving Jack’s knee a tight squeeze. “Are you tired?”
Jack shrugs. “Just a bit. Harley kicks. Little jerk.” He smiles. “I was just going to take a nap so I wasn’t tired for the rest of the day.”
“That sounds like a good plan. You sure you don’t want to crash in one of the guest rooms? It might get a bit loud out here if your brothers migrate.”
A room where he would be uninterrupted sounded like heaven. Maybe they would forget about him and he could just sleep the rest of the day away. “Okay. Yeah. I mean, if that’s alright.”
“Of course that’s alright,” Tony said. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Jack’s head felt like it was splitting open. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
He picked the room halfway between their room and Tony’s, trying to get as isolated as possible. He hadn’t been in any of the other rooms, as he hadn’t seen a reason to trespass and risk anger. Not that he thought Tony would really get angry. Just that there wasn’t a reason to push buttons. Or whatever. He didn’t really know what he thought.
It was cold, but he felt like he was starting to heat up regardless, so the blankets remained tucked in at the corners. He didn’t bother to flick on the light, he didn’t need to see the sleek dark-wood furniture, matching down to the shade and grain, as expensive as the rest of the penthouse. All he cared about was the soft mound of pillows and blankets he dropped into, fine-threaded cotton and the smell of laundry detergent. It took him an hour to fall asleep, the heat settling and whirling around his skull, pressing in like a vice.
A door slammed.
Jack burned.
==================================================================
“Jack!”
Jack awoke in a bursting seize of agony. His back hurt. Someone was calling his name. He was cold, chilled to the bone, sweat pooling in the hollows of his neck. He didn’t know you could be cold and hot at the same time.
“Jaaaack!”
He rolled to the side. His legs were sore. Why were his legs sore? He closed his eyes and let himself float away. If his legs were sore he could sleep. Farrian never came back twice in one night.
“Jack, you shithead!”
Shit. That was Harley. He needed to get up. If Harley was yelling, things were bad. Things were really bad. Harley needed to stop before Farrian heard. He was going to be so mad if he heard Harley, Jack needed to get up. He pushed himself upright, head spinning and his hands fisted into the bedsheets.
His door flew open with a bang and he flinched, the light flooding the room and stabbing through his eyes. He hissed and lifted his arm to block the glare, slamming his eyes shut against the onslaught. “Fuck.”
“There you are,” Harley said. “Why’d you pick such a sad place to sleep?”
“Didn’t have you in it,” Jack muttered, hoping having his eyes closed would stop the pulsating pain.
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Get up. We’re leaving in half an hour, and you gotta wrangle yourself into one of those suits. And then fix Dorian’s tie. I think his is already in a knot.”
“Shit,” Jack said, dropping his arm. “Alright. I’m up.”
“Nice. Hurry up.”
Harley disappeared from the doorway and took the light with him. Jack pressed the heels of his palms against his temples, trying to hold in the pressure. He just needed a minute. A minute to collect his thoughts and pull the pain into a manageable point, and he would be fine. He would suck it up and pull himself together and make this a nice night for everyone.
He just needed a minute. It was freezing in here. When did it get so cold?
“Jack?”
That wasn’t any of his brothers.
“We got ten minutes kiddo, did Harley tell you we were leaving?”
Jack looked up at Tony. Where had the twenty minutes gone? He needed to get up. Tony was looking at him.
“I’m up.”
Tony flicked on the light and frowned. “Jack? Are you feeling alright?”
Jack swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”
Tony’s eyes widened a fraction. “Woah. Hey, kiddo. You don’t look so hot.”
Jack lurched to his feet. “I’m okay, Sir.”
Tony took a step forward. “Can you sit down for me?”
No, no, no, no. He had given it away. Nobody was going to let him into a restaurant if they knew he was sick. His brothers were going to be so disappointed. The thought surged in his throat and then Jack was throwing up, all over the expensive carpet.
There was a flash of white, burning hot panic, sharp as it always was, acidic through and through. And beneath that a dull sense of relief that none of his brothers were here to see this. If he didn’t make a sound they never have to know.
Jack stumbled back and pressed his sleeve to his mouth, trying to get his vision to focus so he could see what he needed to clean up. He needed vinegar and dish soap. And a towel. Shit, where did Tony keep his cleaning supplies?
“Oh, fuck,” Tony said, skirting around Jack’s mess to reach him. Jack stepped back again to try and escape Tony’s reach but he wasn’t fast enough, he was never fast enough, and Tony’s hands were on his shoulders holding him up.
“C’mon, kid,” Tony said, gently lowering Jack down to the floor. “Let’s sit down.”
“Jack?” someone asks, and Jack looks up in horror to see Dorian in the doorway. He scans the situation in a split second before flicking scared eyes over to Tony. “He didn’t mean to. I’ll clean it up, I swear.”
“No,” Jack muttered, and he could feel Tony’s hands on his back with such burning detail. “It’s my fault, I’m sr’ry. I’ll clean it up.”
“Nobody is cleaning it up,” Tony said firmly. “And nobody needs to be sorry.”
Dorian hovered nervously in the doorway, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I can stay here with him. So you guys can go to dinner.”
“Rian, kiddo,” Tony said, his hand still rubbing a soothing circle onto Jack’s back. “Breathe for me. Everything’s okay. We’re just going to take a rain check for dinner. As soon as Jack feels better we’ll go. Right now we’re just going to get your brother feeling better.”
Jack shivered and Tony pressed his hand against his forehead. “Shit, kiddo. You’re burning up. I don’t think any of your brothers caught what you have, you want to tell me what’s going on?”
He couldn’t quite hear what Tony was saying, he was too hot, too tight, too close. Everything was too close.
“What are you feeling?”
The answer rose out of his mouth before he even had to think about it, the answer pure rote memorization. Tony at least didn’t ask it with the derided contempt Groben always dipped his question in. “God’s punishment, Sir.”
Tony’s hand faltered. “What?”
“He’s out of it,” Dorian said bitterly from the doorway, and Jack wanted to argue that he was perfectly lucid, but the room was spinning. “That’s what Groben always wanted the answer to be.”
“That’s fucking horrific,” Tony said, brushing Jack’s hair from his forehead. “And completely untrue, I’m sorry, kiddo.”
Dorian shrugged. “Need help getting him up?”
Tony’s fingers were gently tucking stray pieces of hair behind Jack’s ears. “That’s alright, I’ve got him. Would you mind running over to Pep and tell her to come on over? She’ll call someone to come help clean this up.”
Dorian nodded and lingered for a moment longer before disappearing. Tony sighed and turned his attention back to his oldest. He didn’t want to disturb his kid, he looked miserable enough already, but he couldn’t let him sit here on the floor like this.
“Jack, buddy. I’m going to help you to your feet, alright? We’re going to get you cleaned up and in a better bed.”
Jack shook his head. He had thrown up. If he didn’t clean it up he’d be in so much trouble. He was probably already in so much trouble. Tony needed to let him do damage control. “Gotta clean. I’ll clean it, I swear.”
“Hey, no. Don’t worry about that. That’s not your job. Your job is to get better.”
Tony’s hand is still carding hair away from his sweaty forehead, and Jack can’t help but lean into the touch. His hands are cool now, and he can’t remember when that changed. Wasn’t he cold? “They don’t know how to clean it up. I gotta clean it up.”
“Your brothers aren’t going to clean it up either. C’mon. You don’t have a choice kiddo.”
Tony’s hands are moving now, insistent and firm, and Jack doesn’t have the energy to try and protest any of it so he goes along, letting Tony guide him up and off the floor. He walks him out and down the hall, one hand on his side and the other on his shoulder like Jack is going to topple over any second now. And Jack’s unsteady enough that he can’t argue against the move.
It was only when Tony reached for the handle of his and Pepper’s room did Jack realize that they weren't going back to his own bedroom. He tries to stop walking but Tony has already opened the door and he was inside before he could try and think about where he was going.
It was huge. It was fucking huge. It was the nicest bedroom he’s ever been in, and he couldn’t even look at it properly because he felt so shitty. He shouldn’t be in here. He didn’t want to be here. He doubled over and dry heaved, the blood rushing to his head.
Tony moved lightning fast, reaching over and snagging a porcelain vase from a side table, sliding it into Jack’s hands where he had dropped to his knees on the carpet. The carpet was a cream color, the same color as the study, and he was reminded of the last time Harley had thrown up, the pale look on his face when Farrian told him how many strikes he had earned. Jack hadn’t been able to get him out of that punishment, forced to watch him get marched into the study while Farrian had dragged him in the opposite direction and the sourness of it all was rising up and then he was gagging out the bitter memory of it into the vase. Jack’s hands felt clammy against the blue-speckled fragile antiquity and he started to cry, knowing he had ruined another one of Tony’s expensive things.
He always had to pay for what he ruined.
He didn’t know how he was supposed to pay this time. Tony didn’t want sex like Groben and Farrian, and he said he wouldn’t ever hit him. The only other thing he could think of was the food he ate, but that really wasn’t that bad. Besides, he was sure the rug he had ruined was worth more than a paltry week of missed meals.
“Woah, hey, hey,” Tony said, his voice going up at the end. “It’s okay, everything’s okay. What’s wrong?”
Jack couldn’t answer him through his tears, he could hardly breathe through the weight in his chest. He didn’t know why Tony hadn’t left him alone to pull himself together yet. There was Tylenol in the bathroom back in Jack’s room, he didn’t know why he was here. The only thing he could think of was that Tony was angry. Groben had always waited until the end of the week to punish him, preferring to let the demerits pile up, but Tony might be different.
He’d ruined everyone’s night. And now he was going to ruin the one nice thing he had been handed in life.
“Tony?” Pepper asked from behind them, her hand tentatively pushing the door open a bit wider. “How’s he doing?”
Tony didn’t answer. He was definitely still angry at Jack.
“How about you go get a cool washcloth, Tony,” Pepper said softly, taking Tony’s place at Jack’s side. “I’ll make sure he’s alright.”
Pepper’s hands were cool and dry, and they felt better than any washcloth when she laid one on the back of his neck. He was shaking, he could feel it in his legs, and he hated himself for feeling relieved that Tony had left.
“I can get a job,” Jack whispered. “To pay for the rug, I’m really sorry.”
“Jack, sweetie. We don’t want you getting a job.”
The sink shut off from in the bathroom and Tony came back out, a washcloth folded in his hands. “How’s he feeling?”
Pepper kept her hand on the back of Jack’s neck as she took the washcloth from Tony. “When did he start crying, honey?”
“When he threw up. Shit, Pepper. I don’t know what I did.”
“I think there’s just some misunderstandings happening. But everything’s okay, right Tony?” Pepper’s voice went up at the end of the sentence, telling Tony to go along with the ride, and he nodded, clearing his throat.
“You’re right, everything’s perfectly okay.” He dropped to a crouch next to Jack. “Everyone is fine.”
“Ruined your carpet,” Jack muttered, swiping the back of his sleeve across his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
Tony frowned and gently laid the washcloth on the back of Jack’s neck, the chilled edges of the cloth a stark offset to his flushed skin. He wanted to wrap it around his entire body, let it seep through and slow his heart to a manageable beating.
“And your vase,” Jack added, suddenly very aware of the vase between his hands. “I ruined your vase.”
“It’s porcelain, Jack,” Tony said, so soft Jack has to focus to hear him. He was back to brushing the hair off of Jack’s forehead, but now Jack could feel the faint tremble running through Tony’s fingers. “It washes right off.”
That was good news. That was great news. There was no way Jack could have replaced the vase. He lurched to his feet, the vase tight between his hands with the intent to take it to the bathroom. He made it half a step before Tony was on him, one hand on his arm and the other on his shoulder.
“Kiddo, slow down. Where are you going?”
Jack couldn’t move with Tony holding him back so he gestured towards the bathroom with the vase. “I’m gonna go rinse it out.”
Tony gently pried the vase from Jack with one hand, handing it to Pepper without taking his eyes off of Jack. “Nope. You need to rest.”
That was fair. Jack knew you needed sleep in order to heal, he wasn’t that dumb. He’d just passed his GED, after all. Pepper was still behind him, between him and the bed, and he knew if he turned around she’d have that soft look on her face.
He hated that look almost as much as he loved it. When she turned it on his little brothers it was like watching the clouds pull away above sunflowers. They fucking ached for Pepper’s love, the gentleness in which she held them. He was unbelievably grateful for that smile in those moments, thankful beyond eternity that someone was giving them what they deserved.
He wasn’t sure why it was so painful when she turned the smile on him. Maybe he’d gone so long without that sort of softness he had left the absence scab over, and Pepper just went and ripped it right open. It was like trying to mother something that had gone feral. He didn’t know if it was even possible.
So he didn’t turn. He kept his eyes on Tony. “Okay. Yes, Sir. I’ll go sleep it off.”
“How about we get you some new clothes first. And see if you want to brush your teeth.”
Jack gave him a jerky nod. “Okay. I’ll go do that.” And then he waited for Tony to drop his hand from his shoulder. Except Tony didn’t, he just stepped sideways out of the way of the bathroom but between the bedroom door.
“Your dresser is the one on the left?” Pepper asked. “I can go grab you some clothes to sleep in, sweetie.”
Jack knew he couldn’t hide the confusion that flickered across his face, he could feel it in his brow, and he knew that Tony had caught it too by the way he frowned. He had never been terribly great at hiding his expressions, but it had never really mattered before now. Before, he knew he was going to get struck no matter how his face looked. Having someone care about what he was feeling was a foreign, tangled terrain to navigate.
“Jack, you’re going to rest here until you feel better. I don’t want you in your room right now.”
“That’s alright, they know what to do if I get worse.”
“No, kid, I don’t want them catching what you have. And I want to keep an eye on you, I don’t like your temperature.”
Jack flagged in Tony’s arms. “Okay. Sorry.”
“Please stop apologizing, kiddo,” Tony said, gently pressing his shoulder to get him to turn and sit on the bed. Jack was done protesting so he let himself be seated, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that was telling him he was too dirty to be anywhere near the bed.
Tony leaned forward a bit. “Pepper’s going to be back in a second, do you want help changing?”
“What?”
“With the buttons and all,” Tony started, lifting his hand to gesture towards Jack’s shirt. Jack’s mind went fuzzy and he flinched backwards out of Tony’s reach. He wasn’t taking his clothes off in front of anyone, he didn’t have to do that anymore. The hands reached back towards him, they were a man’s hands, he knew that, and he threw up an arm to protect his face. Farrian would always yank his arm down to give him a resounding backhand anyways, but the moment of redirection stopped him from hitting his nose or an eye. He went rigid, bracing for the bruising grip that was sure to follow, shoulders tucked up around his ears.
Except the pain didn’t come. And he was sitting on a bed, not standing on a wooden floor. And it wasn’t Farrian next to him, it was Tony.
Jack dropped his arm and curled it around his middle, shame flooding hot into his cheeks as he saw the stricken look on Tony’s face. He knew better than that, he knew Tony wasn’t Farrian. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It was a stupid way of phrasing it,” Tony said softly. “Don’t be sorry. I only meant that Pepper could help you if you wanted.”
“I’m okay. I can do it.”
Tony reached out and offered his hand. “Hold my hand while we wait for Pepper?”
Jack looked down and couldn’t help but feel the corners of his mouth tug downwards at the gesture. He had always been the one offering his hand to his brothers, he couldn’t remember if anyone had ever offered to hold his hand. “I’m almost eighteen, Tony. I think I’m a bit too old for that.”
“Bullshit,” Tony said, giving his hand a little shake. “You’re never too old when you’re my kid.”
Jack pressed his lips together to stop them from trembling. Tony was still looking at him like he didn’t care Jack was screwed up beyond repair. Jack reached his hand out tentatively and placed it in Tony’s grasp. His hand was dry and cool, and he squeezed Jack’s hand in a way that grounded him like nothing else had.
===============================================================
Jack woke up to Peter tucked against his chest, one of his hands curled tight around the hem of Jack’s shirt, his head nestled into Jack’s shoulder. Jack hadn’t heard anyone come in, but he had passed out pretty fast after he had gotten in bed. Tony had awoken him sometime during the night to make him take some thick, cherry-flavored medicine, so it had to have been after that too. Peter was awake, Jack could tell by his breathing, so he gave his arm a little shake.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, kiddo. I don’t want you catching what I have.”
“Don’t care,” Peter said. “The bed feels weird without you.”
Jack huffed a laugh. “Co-dependent little leech.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“What time is it?”
Peter shrugged. “Dunno. Not my problem.”
“When did you sneak your way in here?”
“I didn’t sneak, my path was completely unobstructed. And last night.”
“Your brothers?”
“Dorian was crying. So he’s probably still sleeping.”
“Ah, shit,” Jack said, moving to sit up. “Damn it. You should have come and gotten me.”
“Lay the fuck down,” Peter said, pulling Jack back down by his shirt. “Harley was with him, he’s fine. You can be a worried parent when you get better.”
Jack blinked at his little brother. “Your older brother’s are rubbing off on you, twerp.”
Peter just hummed and wriggled so he was flush against Jack’s chest. “You’re warm. Don’t get sick again, the bed is cold without you.”
“The whole reason I’m warm is because I’m sick. Aren’t you supposed to be a little genius?”
“Shut up. You’re a natural heat generator and you know it.”
Jack flicked his little brother’s ear in retaliation, smiling when Peter grumbled and batted his hand away in annoyance. His eyes were closed, eyelashes breathlessly still, and his back was to the door. It wasn’t even his own bedroom and he was completely at ease, a realization that made his throat tighten. He hadn’t been sure if any of them would ever lose the wound-tight tension in their shoulders.
Jazz started up, some smooth low-lying beat that slunk in from the kitchen. It meant Tony was up and awake, frying together some sort of breakfast concoction on the stove. Every other weekend he decided he wanted to give the chef a break, digging through the drawer of recipes Pepper’s mother had given them. The week before last it had been oven crepes with pan-fried fruit. Sometimes they were absolutely awful, like the time he had attempted to pickle the eggs, but he could smell browning butter and lemon zest, so he had high hopes for today’s attempt.
“You little shit,” Dorian said, poking his head through the cracked door. “I cannot believe you found him and didn’t tell us where he was.”
Jack could feel Peter grin against his shirt. “I found him last night, you guys needed sleep.”
“I’m going to strangle you for real this time,” Dorian threatened, abandoning the doorway to take refuge on Jack’s other side, his bony elbow knocking Jack between his ribs as he flopped sideways on the bed.
“You’re all going to get sick, you gremlins.”
Jack lifted his head to see Tony in the doorway with an apron on. He smiled. “I tried to tell them, but they seem to have selective hearing.”
“I don’t get sick,” Dorian said, using Jack’s arm as a chinrest. “I’m immune.”
“Yeah, because you’ve eaten so many things off the floor you already have all the germs in you,” Peter muttered, twisting away as Dorian’s hand came down to swipe at him. “You’re the contagion.”
“Loser,” Dorian said, flipping Peter off when he couldn’t reach him. “It was called finding the food that wasn’t on my damn plate every morning.”
“Right,” Tony cut in. “Well there happens to be food on both of your plates waiting for you, so I suggest you get a move on before it’s cold.”
Peter swung his feet off the bed. “What about Jack?”
“I’ll bring him food in a second, he’s going to stay here and rest.”
Jack frowned. “You don’t have to do that, I’m really not that hungry.”
“Wasn’t asking you,” Tony said, raising a wry eyebrow. “You just have to sit there and let other people take care of you.”
“It’s driving him absolutely insane,” Dorian said gleefully, reaching up to ruffle Jack’s hair before sliding out of the bed. “He doesn’t know what to do with himself.”
“Yeah, well, we’re fixing that,” Tony said, moving further into the room so Peter and Dorian could go past. “You two, go wake up Harley so he doesn’t sleep through breakfast.”
“He’s going to be pissed he doesn't get to see Jack before we eat.”
“Like you could stop him from seeing Jack before he ate,” Peter muttered, detangling himself from the sheets.
“ You couldn't,” Dorian snipped back. “But that's ‘cause you're the size of a toothpick.”
“Oh you’re dead,” Peter said, launching himself out of the bed as Dorian sprinted past Tony out the door.
Jack waited until they were both out of earshot before turning to Tony with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, I didn’t know he would come and find me. He’s really good when he’s sick though, you won’t have to do anything.”
“I would have been concerned if he didn’t manage to find you,” Tony said, pulling the apron over his head. He tossed it onto the dresser. “It’s like one of those weird sibling telepathy powers. How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
It wasn’t a lie, he really was. He didn’t feel like he was going to throw up at the moment, and he was sure he could make it to his room if he tried. The headache would go away soon enough if he drank water, or at least it would go away eventually. He sat up to prove his point, wincing his way through the sudden headache that whited out his vision. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and then offered Tony what he hoped was a believably stable smile. “Yeah, way better.”
Tony’s mouth twitched. “Kid, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you have never learned how to lie convincingly.”
“Yes I have,” Jack said, pushing the blankets off of his legs. “I did it all the time at Galgani’s and it worked like a charm.”
“That’s because,” Tony said, stepping forward and pulling the blankets back up. “They were just looking for a scapegoat. You’re still on bedrest, stop attempting to escape.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue the point, but whatever argument he had planned died the moment it hit the roof of his mouth because Tony was right. Harley could have broken something right in front of Groben’s eyes, and if Jack had claimed it was his fault then Groben would have shifted the pain onto him in an instant. What a bastard. He’d even ruined Jack’s ability to lie believably.
“I’ve got wafflecakes in the oven, but I can also make you some fruit and granola if you want something lighter,” Tony said, pressing the back of his hand to Jack’s forehead. “Pick your poison.”
Jack tried to ignore the stumble of his heart when Tony touched him, and then leaned into it in case Tony forgot to handle him gently in the future. “What’s a wafflecake?”
“A combination of a waffle and a pancake,” Tony said, dropping his hand. “Obviously.”
Jack felt a little part of his soul follow Tony’s hand as it fell away from his forehead. “Oh. Right. I think I’ll just stick with the yogurt.”
“Water or orange juice?”
“Just water, please.”
“Alright. Want me to hang around a bit before I go put that together?”
“Please,” Jack blurted out, his face going hot when he realized how desperate he had sounded. “Sorry. Shit. I didn’t mean—They probably need you out there.”
Tony blinked in surprise before his eyes softened. He then gave Jack the gentlest smile he had ever received and sat down on the bed, swinging his feet up so he was parallel to Jack. Jack stared at him in shock as Tony scooted backwards so their shoulders were touching before reaching his arm around Jack’s shoulder and pulling him in tight.
“I think I want to hang around a bit,” Tony said, leaning his head against Jack’s. “If you don’t mind.”
Jack’s throat was in danger of closing up so he just shook his head. Tony gave him a slight squeeze in response and let his thumb sweep back and forth on his shoulder. “Let me tell you about the time I caught a Tasmanian virus.”