Chapter 14
It was going to be such a good day. Peter had been so sure. He was feeling better... like honestly better than the day before. His headache was gone, his ribs were good (enough, but no one really needed to know differently), the gash in his leg was on its way to gone and by the end of day, he’d managed to choke down a full, albeit normal sized meal for dinner for the ultimate win. Yes, his temperature had crept up barely a bit toward the end of the day but his regular super-meds had taken care of that super quick and he’d been so hopeful that he’d be able to leave the med bay—and try to figure out what his new normal was going to look like.
He’d been discharged literal minutes earlier and then, of course, Peter, by his mere existence, had jinxed it all. Parker Luck ruined everything.
“It is regrettable, Mr. Stark, but until we can be certain that Mr. Parker’s fever has fully resolved, we must deny access to her room. And I do understand that this is upsetting, but my job as her primary physician is to make sure Mrs. Parker receives the best possible care and as such...“
Mr. Stark sighed in sudden resignation. “I know, I know. I get it. Thank you, Dr. Bonwick. We’ll leave you to it, but please...” His voice trailed off.
Dr. Bonwick seemed to understand. “As I have been doing thus far, I will keep you up to date on her condition should any changes arise.” The man smiled sympathetically over Mr. Stark’s shoulder to address Peter, who stood awkwardly behind him. “I will also confer with Dr. Cho so as to schedule any follow up appointments in a manner that will allow for visits as soon as a full 48 hours without fever has passed... with your permission, of course?” He looked to Mr. Stark for that confirmation.
Nodding tersely, Mr. Stark grunted out his thanks and turned toward Peter. “Alright, kid, let’s get out of here,” and guided Peter back towards him room at the end of the hall.
Peter didn’t say anything as he shuffled along. What could he say?
Mr. Stark, however, had some thoughts to share.
“What a jerk.” Mr. Stark blurted out as soon as the door to the med bay room closed.
Peter turned his back to Mr. Stark as he blinked back tears. “Be nice, Mr. Stark. He’s just making sure she doesn’t get worse, is all. I get it.”
“Yah, yah. I get it, too,” Mr. Stark huffed in frustration, “but that doesn’t change what I said. He should have said something sooner. I mean, you’d been here all day yesterday, too, for cryin’ out loud. Waiting until you were heading down the hall to say hi was not okay.”
Peter sniffled, and rubbed at his tired eyes, “Yeah, well, the fever was last night though, and he doesn’t have to be nice. He just has to be the best, right? And you said he is, so if that means he’s a,” Peter searched for a word, “...turd, then so be it. It’s whatever Aunt May needs, right? And you’ve got enough tech kickin’ around to make sure we can still see each other, even if it’s not in person.”
Peter could feel Mr. Stark’s eyes on his back. “Of course we do! Geez, kid. What kind of a genius do you take me for? Oh, and by the way, way to be the bigger person. Darn it, were you always this mature?”
Peter couldn’t help the choked laugh as he slid back into their familiar banter, “Well, between you and me, one of us had to be.”
Mr. Stark chuckled as he came up behind Peter and patted him tenderly on the shoulder. “You won’t hear an argument out of me. Now,” Mr. Stark stepped back and surveyed the room. “Let’s grab your stuff and get you out of here, shall we?”
Mr. Stark must have noticed Peter’s subtle nod, as he gripped his shoulder one last time. “Fantastic. I’ll go check the bathroom really quick while you grab those books Pep brought down... Oh! And I think she brought down one of her fancy blankets from the penthouse. Could you do a quick check for that, too? I’d rather we not leave it behind.”
Peter nodded again and waited as Mr. Stark’s footsteps receded into the small bathroom attached to his med bay room, then blinked slow, and pressed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. “C’mon, Peter, pull it together. You can do this,” he muttered to himself. “Just get upstairs and you’ll be good... just get upstairs...”
Peter’s brief self-talk was immediately interrupted.
“Well, that took all of two seconds, bud. Congrats on not being disgusting. I’ve got your toothbrush and such ready to go.” Mr. Stark said as he stepped out of the private bathroom attached to Peter’s room, zipping up a travel bag. He’d obviously noticed that Peter hadn’t moved from his spot because he handed Peter the bag and manoeuvred around him. “Here, let me do a quick check before we go so no one has to run back down later. ‘kay?”
How could the man have so much energy after everything that had happened to him?
Peter had finally managed to convince Mr. Stark to sleep in his own bed last night (Did no one else noticed how exhausted Mr. Stark looked?) and so he hadn’t been privy to Peter’s marathon of nightmares, thank goodness for that small miracle. Besides, Peter and Mr. Stark had both figured that after a day filled with colouring books and board games with Morgan, plus an 80s movie marathon to entice Peter into taking much needed naps, that everyone would be ready for a good night’s rest so the next day could be fresh start for everyone—barring any other weird medical drama overnight.
Stupid fever.
That Peter had spent the eventual fever-free night thrashing about as he tried to fend off nightmare after nightmare of Thanos as the titan obliterated Queens and watched helplessly as Mr. Stark and Ben, and then May and Ben, and then Ben, and Ben, and forever Ben who was always reaching out for Peter, and always dying then disintegrating over and over and over again— well...
“Alrighty then, what do you think, Pete? Have we got everything before we head up to the penthouse?” Mr. Stark asked, arms full of faux fur and books and blissfully oblivious to Peter’s exhaustion as he scanned the med bay room one last time. “I almost couldn’t tell if you’d left anything behind or not with the mess you’d made of this bedding!”
Peter flushed with embarrassment. Mr. Stark didn’t need to know the real reason so Peter made a production of straightening the bedding, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Sorry. I think I was a little overheated last night, is all.” It seemed as good an excuse as any, until—
Mr. Stark took a good look at Peter, frowned, and dropped his pile of Peter stuff back on the bed. He came closer, pressing a gentle hand to Peter’s forehead. “Are you doing okay, Peter? You’re looking a little rough, now that I’m getting a good look at you but Lydie didn’t say anything more about a fever. And she wouldn’t have forgotten to mention it, would she? She’s generally on the ball with that sort of stuff. Huh. Maybe I should get her to—“
Peter stepped back and pushed the hand away. “No. Last night was fine. Can we just go? Please?” Was he whining?
But Mr. Stark pushed. “Relax, kid. It’ll only take a minute... and ease your old man’s mind.”
“Really, Mr. Stark.” Now, Peter tried not to sound too snappish as he interrupted what was most likely going to be another freak out by his mentor. “I’m fine! I promise. I was just warm from too many blankets.”
Mr. Stark blinked, trying to figure out how to react to the dramatic shift in mood, but Peter was backtracking before Mr. Stark could do or even say anything. “Shi—I mean shoot! I’m sorry,” Peter couldn’t contain his frustrated sigh, “I didn’t have the best sleep last night. Okay?” He tried to take a deep breath and calm himself. “Please? All I really want is to take a shower and get all of this adhesive gunk off of me and then maybe try to talk to Aunt May a bit if she’s awake before I lie down in my own bed.” Peter rubbed at the site of the IV that had been taken out only minutes before for effect.
Looking both worried and unsure, Mr. Stark made his decision and moved toward the door, “Yeah, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can let this go, bud. You can razz me for overreacting later. For now, let me grab her and—“
Peter couldn’t bear it a moment longer. He’d never done well in the med bay—like, ever. And he’d only be able to ignore the fact that his Aunt May was down the hall alone for so long all because Dr. Bonwick had refused Peter’s request to visit, which was totally understandable, but still pure torture. And if he couldn’t see her... hug her... hold her hand, then at least he should be allowed to hide away and catch his breath... or try—just like with all the other stress Peter was being made to deal with. His frustration bubbled over into anger. “I SAID NO! JUST LISTEN TO ME! JUST—“ Peter realized he was losing it and caught himself, too late. He released the breath he’d apparently been holding and dropped his head into his hands in defeat. In contrast to only a moment before, he whispered a plaintive plea, “just stop.”
Mr. Stark froze in his tracks, only putting his hands up in surrender. “Peter?”
Peter couldn’t help himself and looked up at the sound of his name, mouth agape and stunned at his own outburst as Mr. Stark approached with the caution of one approaching a wounded animal. “Kid?”
Peter could only shake his head in horror as the words tumbled out of his mouth, “I am so sorry, Mr. Stark. It was such a good day yesterday and I don’t- I don’t know—I didn’t mean—I—I—” He dropped his head in his hands again and groaned in defeat. “crap.”
Way to keep it together, Peter. Idiot.
The room was silent, neither of them knowing exactly what to say after what may have been the most horrifically mortifying moments of Peter’s adolescent life, until Mr. Stark took a few deep breaths and cleared his throat. “So,” he finally spoke, “Is this just about the May stuff or is there something else running around in that head of yours?”
Peter couldn’t bring himself to speak, averted his eyes.
“Pete. You’ve got to give me something.”
Still, he remained silent.
Mr. Stark waited patiently for all of ten seconds before he wrapped a gentle hand around Peter’s wrist and led him to sit on the chair still stationed between their hospital beds. Crouching before Peter, his knees popping on his way down, Mr. Stark tried again. “Can you please look at me?”
Peter could barely manage to shake his head, ‘no.’
Mr. Stark gave Peter’s knee a gentle squeeze. “Can you at least tell me why?”
That inquiry brought on a slightly more vigorous headshake ‘no.’
Mr. Stark shifted a little, then muttered a quiet “ah, screw it” before plopping down, cross-legged onto the floor in front of the boy. “There. Now. If you’re not going to talk—or even look at me, would you at least be okay with my offering a thought or two?”
Maybe Mr. Stark had seen Peter’s barely discernible shoulder shrug, maybe not, but he plugged along as though he had. “I know that you know that me and May were talking, even before the snap...”
Peter cringed.
Mr. Stark ignored it and went on, “And I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but she mentioned your tendency to blame yourself for things waaaaay beyond your control. I’m pretty sure I witnessed some of that myself, if I stop and think back to when I was still being a dumbass.” Mr. Stark paused. “Regardless, you know that the fever was beyond your control, right? Even if it’s not what kept you up last night.”
Peter clenched his jaw to keep from disagreeing.
“Huh. I for sure thought you’d argue with me on that one, even if you were lying. Your aunt may also have mentioned that you were stubborn like your uncle and that once you get a thought in your head, it takes something like divine intervention to get it out of there.”
Peter found himself scrutinizing a particular tile just to the right of Mr. Stark’s knee. Aside from the whole calling him out thing, hearing Mr. Stark speaking of Ben was... disorienting? And he couldn’t...
“If you don’t want to talk right now, that’s fine.” Mr. Stark assured him. “I will remind you that now that all of the world ending garbage has been taken care of, we’ve got all the time and resources we need to work on all of it, okay?”
Peter scowled.
“And you’ve also got a whole load of people who care about you... more than you know and will be around whenever you need us. I can name some of them if you need me to.”
Peter’s frown softened and his cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment.
“Perfect, I’m glad we’ve come to a consensus on all of that. Now,” Mr. Stark gave Peter’s knee a gentle pat and moved onto his next thought as he stood up from the floor. “How’s about we get upstairs, get you into a shower and then snuggle up on the couch. I’ll have FRIDAY queue up ‘A New Hope’ for once you’ve spoken with May and then we can get our nerd on. No need for you to hide away and get lost in your head all over again. Alright? Sound like a plan?”
Peter stayed sat in the chair and contemplated. Maybe hiding away wasn’t what he wanted to do, after all? Getting lost in a galaxy far, far away, with Mr. Stark and... maybe Morgan?
Before he could say anything, Mr. Stark straightened one last time. “C’mon, kid,” the man grabbed Pepper’s blanket and the books. “Let’s get you upstairs before the Missus thinks we’ve been kidnapped or something,” Mr. Stark pulled Peter close then pulled him out the door and down the hallway to the elevator they both knew FRIDAY would deliver to Mr. Stark without needing to press anything. “I’ll get Happy to double check the room later on when he gets in... sound like a plan?”
Peter nodded, still embarrassed by his emotional outburst, but feeling better for having sorted things out.
“Good show, now are you ready for a movie marathon like no oth—“
Whatever Mr. Stark was going to say was cut off by the elevator doors gliding open to reveal Happy, who choked and paled as he looked at the two before him. With zero subtlety, the man rushed to hide a bouquet of flowers behind his back. “Um, what are... I mean—“ he cleared his throat nervously. “I thought you guys would be upstairs already. Was everything okay? Peter?” Happy did a quick scan of the boy. “You’re good, right?”
Peter nodded, too emphatically. “Yeah, we were just...um.” Peter trailed off, not wanting to actually tell Happy what had delayed the two.
Mr. Stark figured it out pretty fast though. “We were just making sure we’d grabbed everything before heading up.” Mr. Stark smirked and shifted to sneak a peek behind the man. “We probably missed a crayon or two from yesterday, though, if you felt like taking a gander later... after you’re done with whatever down here? Hey, Hap?”
Happy gulped as his eyes tracked from Mr. Stark, to Peter, and then to Mr. Stark again. “Yeah... I can, uh... I can do that?”
Mr. Stark grinned big. “You’re good, though, right? I would be safe in assuming that those flowers you’re trying to hide mean you aren’t here for a check up then?”
Happy cheeks reddened. “No... I mean, yeah. I’m good.”
Mr. Stark was revelling in Happy’s obvious discomfort. “So then...”
Lydie poked her head around the corner. “Oh! Peter! Mr. Stark! What are you two still doing here?”
Peter just shrugged. “We were trying to leave but we ran into Happy and...”
“Well, then, off you go.” Lydie interrupted shooing them away. “You may have been released, but you know that you’d be best served to take it easy for a few more days, Peter. And you, Mr. Stark, don’t think you’re not in my crosshairs, too.”
Mr. Stark wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder and immediately steered him back toward the still open elevator doors. “We’re goin’, we’re goin’...” Mr Stark grumbled. “I can tell when we’re not wanted.”
The two turned to face the hallway as the doors slid closed, giving Peter barely a second to wave awkwardly at Happy and Lydie standing together in the hall.
Neither said anything for a moment, when Peter cleared his throat and spoke, “Um, Mr. Stark? Not that it’s any of my business, but how long have Lydie and Happy been dating?”
A shocked inhale had Mr. Stark choking on his spit for a literal half-minute before he could speak again. “Lydie and Happy?!” Mr. Stark just chuckled. “Geez, kid, Let’s get you upstairs so we can have a chat.”
The elevator moved upward toward the penthouse.
Peter, feeling awkward in the silence, spoke up. “It looked like a nice bouquet at least...” and then Peter realized something. “Wait a minute... Mr. Stark? Did that bouquet have all of Aunt May’s favourites in it?”
Mr. Stark smiled big. “Let’s save this one for home, okay, kid?”
Yeah. This one was going to be a doozy.