Fever
Peter knew that people got sick sometimes. When the spider had bitten him, before he'd gotten his powers, he'd gotten really, really sick. So sick his mom had cried. She'd sat by his bed and rubbed his back, holding his hand and telling him that everything was going to be okay. And before that Peter had gotten sick, but...less sick. His nose would get stuffy or his stomach would hurt. His mom would make him soup and let him lay on the sofa and watch cartoons. And then, after a day or two days or a week, he would feel better.
Peter even knew that grown ups got sick. His mom has gotten stomachaches and stuffy noses too, even though she'd almost always gone to work anyway. She told him that her job was very important and that she was in charge of helping people. Sometimes, she would lay down on the sofa and watch TV and he would bring her a glass of water. Then she would ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek and tell him that he was her best boy. When Peter was sick, though, he stayed home from school with a babysitter or his mom's friend May.
So he shouldn't have been too worried when his dad got sick. He knew that. He knew that there was nothing to cry about, that he was seven now and that he was too big to be so scared of something so silly. But he was. Even more scared than when that man had made him go with him...the man who had wanted to hurt his dad. At least then he'd been able to fight back and then hide. He couldn't do anything about this except stand in the doorway and listen to his dad cough and watch Pepper go back and forth between his room and her office, keeping an eye on him.
Peter hid from her whenever she walked by, ducking into his own bedroom and sometimes crawling under the bed. What if his dad didn't get better? What if his mom came back? He missed his mom so much but she'd left him and what if she came back and took him somewhere else and he never saw his dad again? He tried not to think about his mom very much.
His dad had started feeling sick the day before. Peter had been able to hear the difference in his voice, and how he kept clearing his throat. Usually, his dad made him a snack after school, and then he would bring Peter down to the lab to do homework while the older man worked. Some days, he would even let Peter watch him do experiments and, on the most special days, help a little. But yesterday, he'd kept rubbing a hand over his forehead, not really seeming to get any work done, and Peter's snack had been an apple. Not even a sliced apple. Just an apple.
That night, his dad had gone to bed early, and Pepper had been the one to tuck him in. He'd turned his head away from her when she'd gone to kiss his forehead, not wanting to be mean…just scared. He wanted his dad. His dad was always the one to tuck him in. At first, he hadn't been any good at it, just hanging back and clasping his hands together after pulling Peter's covers up. The next night, he'd hesitantly asked if Peter wanted him to read a bedtime story, but, too afraid to say yes, he'd just shaken his head.
The next night, his dad had read one without asking.
That was their routine now. But then his dad had gotten sick and Pepper promised that he was fine, that he just needed some rest. But Peter was still scared. Pepper wasn't his mom. Sometimes sick people died. His mom had told him that. And sometimes they made other people sick, and they both died! Sometimes really sick people went to sleep and never woke up.
What if his dad did that?
Peter waited until Pepper went back to her office to get out from under his bed. He tiptoed out of his bedroom, then into the hallway, listening for Pepper. What if she made him leave? What if his dad died and she didn't want him and no one wanted him?
His mom had called him a freak.
Not to his face. Never to his face. But he'd heard her in the other room right after he'd gotten his powers, tears in her voice. "And now my son is a wall climbing...freak!"
He didn't know if it was something she'd said on accident because she was upset, or something she really thought. He didn't think he wanted to know. She had always gotten upset when he accidentally used his powers, like when he hugged her when he was sad and couldn't let go. It hadn't been too long after that first time that she'd started flinching away any time he went to hug her, whether he was happy or sad.
His dad still hugged him. He didn't mind when Peter stuck to him. Peter couldn't lose his dad.
He snuck into the bedroom, taking to the walls and crawling into the corner. Peter just wanted to keep an eye on him. He just wanted to listen to him breathe. His dad was asleep anyway, so he wouldn't mind. Curling up in the corner of the room, back against the ceiling, Peter closed his eyes and just listened to his dad's heart beat for a long time.
The cry woke him, and Peter jumped, nearly letting go of the wall. His dad had said a bad word...and he was sitting up in bed, staring at him. "Peter?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing, kidddo?" His dad's voice was scratchy and it sounded like it hurt, but he was awake and he was still alive.
Peter shrugged in response to his question, unwilling to talk about it. Not wanting to put a voice to his dread. His dad looked really worried, though, and he wondered if, like his mom, his dad didn't like him when he was climbing walls. "Do I have to come down?" He asked in a shaky whisper, eyes downcast, and his dad sat up a little more, leaning against the headboard.
"No...not if you don't want to. Are you okay?"
Peter's lip wobbled even as he nodded, and he tried to swallow back his tears. When he got upset it was harder to control his powers, and when it was harder to control his powers, his mom got upset.
"Can you tell me what's wrong?"
He shook his head again, turning his face away from his dad just in case a tear did escape. His dad would think he was a baby. He would say he was being dumb. He would think he was a freak, just like his mom. But as the tears started to fall, his hands stuck even more firmly, and he couldn't make them let go. A sob burst out then as he tugged on his hands, eyes shut tight so he didn't have to see his dad.
"Woah...hey, buddy, what's wrong? Peter?"
And then his dad climbed out of bed, grabbing a chair and dragging it over to the wall, climbing up and biting back a cough. Peter wanted to tell him that he was supposed to stay in bed...that he was sick and he could die and then Peter would be alone. Again. Like when his mom had put him in a car with her assistant who had dropped him off on his dad's porch and driven off.
Alone.
His dad stood on the chair, not grabbing him like Peter had thought he would, but reaching out and touching his cheek. "What's wrong, kiddo? What happened?"
"You...you're sick." Peter whispered, not meeting his eyes. It was dumb. What a babyish thing to cry about. But his dad only cupped his cheek in his palm.
"It's just a little cold, Pete. I'll be fine in a day or two." He tapped Peter's chin, trying to turn his face, but Peter refused.
"Mom said...she said sick people can die."
"Well...they can, buddy, but not of a cold. People only die when they're really sick. I'm just a little sick."
Peter did open his eyes then, meeting his father's with a sniff. "Promise?"
"I promise, Pete. Here. You want to come sit with me?"
His dad had barely gotten the words out before Peter's hand unstuck themselves and he flew into the man's arms, face burrowed into his shoulder, hands stuck to his back. Carefully his dad climbed down, and he tensed, hoping the man didn't ask him to let go.
He didn't, just rubbed Peter's back and carried him to the bed, sitting down and pulling the covers over both of them.
"I'm sorry I climbed the wall." He whispered, tears still falling and soaking his dad's shirt.
"Honey, you don't have to be sorry. I think it's really cool that you can climb walls." That only made Peter's tears fall harder, and his dad tightened his arms, his body just a little too warm.
"Mom got mad."
His dad stiffened then. "She did?" Peter nodded. "Well, I won't get mad. I promise. You can climb as much as you want...and you can stick to me whenever you want. I don't mind."
Peter felt his dad press a kiss to his hair and the tension seemed to melt out of his body, leaving him limp on his father who began to scoot down, pulling the blankets up and laying his head on the pillow.
"Why don't we take a nap, little spider? Then we'll have some lunch."
Giggling at the nickname, Peter closed his eyes and fell asleep to the sound of his dad's heartbeat.
Thank you for reading!