Tony paced in the kitchen, waiting for the elevator or the over to go off first. He was waiting on a casserole for dinner, and for Peter to get home from Ned's house. An entire night of tossing and turning, and a long shower this morning, and Tony still couldn't relax.

I'll tell him tonight, Tony thought as he paced. I'll just be honest and explain the whole thing.

It sounded odd to be so upset about a date, but Peter was Tony's weakness, just as he had said before.

The oven went off, making Tony jump a little. He rushed to get the casserole out, a wave of heat stinging his face when he opened the oven door. Tony jerked his head away, blindly feeling for the dish with gloved hands.

"I'm home!" Peter yelled from the elevator.

"Perfect Timing," Tony yelled back. "Dinner just came out of the oven."

Peter kicked off his shoes, steadying himself with a hand on the door jam. He wobbled a little, but Tony wrote it off as his son being off balance fro trying to pry off his shoes.

"How was it, big man?"

Peter looked over at his dad, his face pale and slightly green. "What?"

"How was the sleep over?" Tony pulled his hands out of the oven mitts and wiping his hands on his jeans before strutting over to Peter and tilting the teen's face up. "Are you okay? You seem really woozy."

Peter nodded, his eyes fluttering a little. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm..."

Peter leaned over and puked, Tony catching his shoulders as he started to fall forward.

"Peter!"

The teen spat a few times, trying to get the foul taste out of his mouth. He heaved a few times, catching his breath, and then leaning back over and puking again. Tony pushed back Peter's curls and felt his forehead. "You're burning up!"

Tony called for Rhodey and Happy, who were watching the news in the living room. The two men raced over, helping Tony heave Peter down the hall and into his room, each one ignoring as Peter thrashed, screamed, and gagged.

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

Rhodey switched out the towel on Peter's head for a new one. They'd tried everything from cold compresses to cold showers. Hell, Tony even ran out to get special Tylenol in a flavor that Peter liked, but nothing would take the fever down.

"How's he doing?" Happy asked as he slipped through the door. It was late - almost 4 in the morning - and he, Rhodey, Tony, and Pepper were taking turns sitting with Peter through the night.

"About the same. Fever is worse, and he keeps having these fits where he flails around and nearly takes my head off. He woke up once, but he just started screaming that everything was too bright until I turned off the lights and shut his blinds and then he settled back down."

"A migraine?" Happy perched on the edge of Peter's bed, pulling back the covers a little. Tony's worn out college shirt, which was Peter's go to pajama top, was drenched in sweat.

Rhodey shook his head. "I have no idea."

The two sat for a moment watching Peter as he thrashed a little, then settled back down.

"I just hope he feels better soon," Rhodey whispered as he ran a gentle hand through Peter's messy curls. "Tony's going out of his mind."

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

"Then find a better one!" Tony slammed his hands on the table, his voice rising as he grew more and more frustrated. A whole team of super-fucking-heroes and not a good doctor recommendation between them.

"Tones, calm down," Pepper said, sending the billionaire an angry look. "You're being such a dick right now!"

"My kid is sick out of his mind, I've earned the right to be the world's biggest dong if I want to!" Tony wheeled around, pacing back and forth behind the table. Peter had been sick 3 days now, and Tony argued that he was worse. The fever had broken last night, but Peter had been holed up in his room. When he wasn't crying, he was yelling. Everything was so bright, so loud, so rough, that the boy was just sitting in his bathroom in the dark, whining at everything.

The team looked around at one another, but Natasha kept her eyes glued on Tony. She was worried about him. He had dark bags under his eyes. She wanted to help, but she didn't know what to do. It wasn't like she'd ever seen a doctor other than the ones at SHIELD.

"I think I know someone," Bruce said, biting his lip. "I haven't heard from him in, like, a year, but he's supposedly the best in the business."

Tony looked over to him. "What?"

"He's supposed to make miracles happen. Let me call him."

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

Stephen Strange was, well, for lack of a better word, strange. He was cocky and rude, but also one of the most gentle doctors Tony had ever met. He was careful with Peter, asking in hushed tones before he did anything, and he was willing to work around the whole "pitch darkness or he'll scream his head off" thing.

Tony paced outside the bathroom door, waiting for Stephen to come out. He's been in there a while, now.

"Your son is strong," Thor said from down the hall. Tony hadn't noticed him there.

"You're still here?"

Thor nodded. "We have been taking turns. We wanted to know if young Peter would be okay."

"I honestly don't know. I just-" Tony rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I don't know. Was it something at Oscorp? Did he pick something up there? I swear to God, if he-"

The sound of the door clicking open cut the man off. Thor perked up, looking down the hall as Stephen came out, Peter trailing behind him slowly. "Peter?"

The teen nodded at his dad but kept his head low. Stephen leaned down and said something softly, but Tony couldn't make out what it was. Peter simply went out into the kitchen and got himself some water from the tap and a small snack.

"What's wrong? Is he okay? Why was-"

Stephen held up a hand to stop Tony's parade of questions. "I don't know what was wrong. I can't tell you why he had a fever or what was making him nauseous or why he was sleeping 16 hours a day. What I can tell you is the behavior I saw in the bathroom just now was a sensory overload. He was having a hard time controlling the input he was getting from the environment around him. We went through some exercises to help him calm down and tune out what was causing the overload, which is how he is in the kitchen right now making himself food."

Tony was nodding along quietly, trying to understand. "You don't know what caused it, though?"

Stephen blinked slowly, setting a cold gaze on Tony. "As I said already, I don't know why your son was feverish, nauseous, and lethargic. What I do know is that he is doing better now. People catch bugs all the time - it is entirely likely that he caught something at school and it simply hit hardest while he was away, so it seemed to be much worse than it was. You said this came on while he was at a sleepover. Maybe it was a short bought of food poisoning from the pizza he ordered. It could be anything."

"But-"

"Listen," Stephen said, now growing annoyed. "I checked his vitals and his temp and his fluids. Physically, he's perfectly healthy. As for the odd behavior today, it is probably a side-effect of having severe sickness. He was already weak, and things became overwhelming. I see it all the time in normal people."

Tony narrowed his eyes at the way the doctor said normal, as if Peter weren't the smartest, kindest, most dedicated boy in the world.

"Some help you were," Tony mumbled, shuffling his feet around.

"He got him out of the bathroom, though," Thor said, nudging Tony in the shoulders. "Please excuse my friend, he is a very worrisome father."

Stephen waved his hand. "I understand. Now, if you please, I have to get back to the office."

Tony and Thor walked the doctor to the elevator and said their goodbyes, the billionaire sending side-long glances at Peter as he made his way through the living room. He seemed to be doing better, that was true, but... something was off.

Peter stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth.