Regrets

Jarvis began directing the startled paramedics as soon as they had entered the mansion.

“This is a first,” One of the muttered as he gazed around, thinking someone was playing a prank on them.

“Please continue up the stairs in front of you, turning a left as you reach the top. From there, you will continue down the hallway until you reach the third door on the right. It is closed, but I have unlocked it for you.”

The paramedics had nothing to do but follow the ominous, stern voice and soon reached their destination, opening it to find a small child curled up on the bathroom floor.

“This is Peter. Fourteen-years-old. Temperature is 101.3 degrees Fahrenheit. Pulse, ninety. Respirations are eighteen per minute. Symptoms include coughing, vomiting and abdominal pain. Parents are on a business trip and unable to be reached at the moment,” Jarvis supplied information for the men.

“Thank you?” One of them hesitantly replied, still looking up for the source of the voice as the other three men started to assess their patient.

“Peter, my name is Mark. I’m one of the paramedics here to help you. Can you tell me what hurts at the moment?” Mark asked, as he and another carefully rolled Peter onto his back being careful to not let the kid’s head smack onto the ground.

“Just my tummy, a lot,” Peter said softly, trying to keep his nerves at bay not liking the fact that he was getting touched by strangers. At least it would have been just Uncle Bruce if Jarvis didn’t overreact. Tears sprang to his eyes and he could not help but have his lower lip tremble at the thought of knowing he was in such a vulnerable state at the moment and the only two people he wished for might be thousands of miles away.

“We’re going to help you, okay? We’ll contact your parents when we are at the hospital, okay?” Mark reassured him and Peter just nodded his head, desperately trying to blink away the tears in his eyes. Peter felt a blood pressure cuff getting wrapped around his arm while a pen light was harshly directed to his eyes.

“When did you start feeling sick, buddy?” Mark continued to lead with his series of questions.

“C-couple days ago, I think. Wasn’t this bad,” Peter murmured, trying desperately not to focus on the action surrounding him. He whimpered as he felt a cold metal piece being placed, underneath his shirt and onto his feverish chest and he tried to squirm away.

“You’re okay, shh. You’re okay, kiddo. Just let us take care of you,” Mark cooed, smoothing Peter’s hair back with one hand while the other moved the stethoscope around the little boy’s chest, listening carefully.

“I-I just want daddy and papa,” Peter whispered and one that cue he could no longer hold up the brave facade he desperately was holding onto and soft sobs wracked his already tortured body.

“They’ll be at the hospital, buddy,” One of the other men spoke up, while gently wiping away the tears running down the boy’s soft, red cheeks.

"P-promise?" Peter cried softly, knowing full well that this man could not make such a statement but it was the only thing Peter could hold on and hope for.

"Promise, kiddo."

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, that was just utterly fucking ridiculous," Tony cursed as he threw his exhausted body onto the seat of the plane, his husband following suite and taking a seat across from him.

"Language," Steve responded, giving Tony a pointed look and if it wasn't for the fact that Steve's rugged, sweat-induced body was doing great wonders for Tony's he would have flunged his husband out of the plane.

As if.

But, someone had to cut him a break. A four hour, all doors closed, no electronics meeting with the rest of his team, along with half of the top shitheads at S.H.I.E.L.D. was sure to raise Tony's blood pressure slowly towards the line Bruce had clearly told him to stop trying to cross. All to be informed of new rising threats that Tony had figured out weeks ago.

Tony looked down from where he had been staring at the ceiling of the plane, back at his husband who just raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're going to be making this up for me. You do realize that only one of us had to be there, but oh no, this needs to be a team effort. I am never listening to you again, Rogers. Expect when it comes to every household decision we'll ever have to make, but other than that, you're done," Tony confronted and Steve smiled knowingly, moving to place a hand on his husband's knee.

"How do you want me to make that up for you exactly?" Steve asked, voice hushed as he slowly slid his hand up further-

SMACK

"Not in front of the children!" Natasha scolded, pointing towards Clint and Thor who were in the midst of an arm wrestle and poor Clint looked like as if he was about two seconds away from passing out.

Steve chuckled, leaning back in his seat while Tony let out a shuddered breath, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone and try to keep his mind off everything.

Only a few seconds later was a startled cry heard throughout the entire plane.