Chapter Text
Peter had been telling himself it was just a cold, just a cold, even though he couldn't stop shivering despite being under three hoodies, even though his head felt like it had been put through Stark's particle accelerator, even though every cough clawed up his throat like it was sandpaper
"Kid" Tony said, flat, standing in the doorway of the med bay "you look like roadkill that got reheated in a microwave" Peter tried to sit straighter on the exam cot, immediately swayed sideways and caught himself with a weak webline to the wall, snapping with a sad thwick "I'm fine" he croaked, his voice cracking halfway through
"Yeah sure, and I'm the tooth fairy" Tonys hand hovered over him like he wanted to check his forehead but thought better of it, he winced instead, muttering "Dammit. Enhanced flu"
Peter blinked, bleary "That's.. a thing?"
"It is now" Tony said "Couple of the big guys been sniffly past few days, you, Rogers, Barnes, guess who won the jackpot?" Peters stomach dropped "Steve and Bucky are sick too?"
"Yep" Tony was already pulling his phone out, typing "Which is exactly why I’m not letting you fester in my tower, my immune system likes to play fair, thank you very much" He pressed call, then turned the screen so Peter could see the name, Steve Rogers
Peter flailed weakly "Wait- no- Mr. Stark-"
Too late, the line clicked and Steve's voice came through, thick with congestion "Tony?"
"Hey Capsicle, bad news, our resident bug-bitten teenagers got the plague, you and tin man got room for a roommate?"
A coughing fit exploded on the other end of the call before Steve could answer, when his voice came back it was hoarse, but steady "If it's the same flu.. yeah bring him over, better to keep it contained"
"Great" Tony hung up and pocketed his phone "Pack up kiddo, you're moving in with the oldies"
Peter gaped, throat raw, cheeks burning with fever "I-what? No, no, Mr. Stark, I can't just-"
Tony put a hand on his shoulder, careful but firm "Listen kid, they know what its like, they'll take care of you" His voice softened in the way it did when he tried not to show he was worried "Besides, I'm too pretty to catch this thing, don't make me beg"
Peter opened his mouth to protest again, but another coughing fit wracked his whole body, leaving him doubled over, dizzy and gasping, by the time it passed, Tony was already tucking a blanket around him and muttering into Friday to prep the car
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Tony practically had to herd him down the hall, Peter's legs wobbled with every step, the fever turning the world sideways, by the time they reached the apartment door, Peter was sweating through his hoodie nd shivering like he'd just crawled out of the Hudson
Tony knocked twice, muttered "Showtime" and the door swung open
Bucky Barnes stoof there in sweatpants and a t-shirt, his hair plastered damp against this forehead, his eyes were bloodshot, and his expression couldve cut steel. He coughed into his metal hand before rasping "You've gotta be kidding me"
"Missed you too Tin Man" Tony said steering Peter forward "Look, he's burning up, he's enhanced and I'm not tanking my immune system for you three, congrats, you're roommates"
"I didnt-" Peter started, only to choke on another cough, his knees buckled and Tonys hand shot out to keep him from faceplanting into Barnes's chest
Bucky swore under his breath, voice shredded from the fever "Get in before you pass out in the hallway"
The apartment was warm, too warm, and smelled faintly of Vicks and lemon tea, Steve Rogers was on the couch, a blanket cocooned around him, blonde hair damp with sweat, he tried to stand when Peter stumpled in, but that effort forced a harsh coughing fit out of him, doubling him over
"Sit down" Bucky snapped, guiding Steve back to the cushions before he keeled over, then turned his glare on Tony "You couldnt keep him at your fancy tower? you had to dump him here?"
Tony raised his hands "Relax frosty, you two have super serum immune systems, you'll survive babysitting" He clapped Peter on the shoulder again, gentle "Try not to die kid, and just.. dont annoy them too much"
And just like that, Tony was gone, the door shutting with a final click
Peter was left standing in the living room, clutching his backpack, shivering under his hoodie, staring at Captain America and the Winter Soldier looking like death
Steve managed a smile, pale and wobbly "Hey son, couch is yours"
Peter nodded too quickly, throat tight, words falling out "Thanks Mr Rogers, I'm really sorry, I don't- don't wanna be a bother, I can just- uhh- sleep on the floor? or in the hall? or-"
His knees gave out while he was rambling
Bucky caught him before he hit the carpet, muttering "For gods sake" He half carried half-dragged Peter to the couch, putting him on the cushions with a grunt
Peter blinked up at the ceiling, face burning hotter than the fever. 'this is fine' he told himself, just quarantined with two living legends who also look like theyre about to keel over, totally fine
Steve, still hunched under his own blanket, reached over and tugged another one down from the back of the couch, draping it over Peter, his hand shook "Don't worry son, we'll be fine"
Peter swallowed hard, staring at the ceiling, trying not to notice how Bucky fussed with Steve’s blanket next, tucking it tighter around his shoulders, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead with startling gentleness
He turned his head, burying his burning face into the pillow, already knowing this was going to be the most awkward week of his life
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By that afternoon, Peter was starting to regret being alive, his head pounded with every cough, his fever making the room tilt and sway, he curled tighter into the couch cushions, blanket pulled around him, but the chills still bit at his skin. His throat ached raw, even breathing felt like dragging knives through his lungs
Across the room, Steve wasn't doing much better, he'd been upright when Peter first arrived, now he sagged against Buckys side, sweat dampening the collar of his top, every few minutes a cough rattled through his chest until he doubled over, face flushed, body trembling
Bucky rubbed a hand up and down his back automatically, murmuring something low Peter couldnt hear, when Steve shivered Bucky tucked the blanket closer around him, adjusting the pillow behind his head
Peter tried not to stare, theyre just.. really close friends he told himself, really close, old-timey friends who sit in eachothers laps and tuck blankets in and- oh my god stop staring
He shifted, immediately regretted it when his stomach turned. He fumbled for the tissue box on the coffee table, knocked it onto the floor, and groaned “sorry” he croaked, voice breaking halfway
Steve glanced over, eyes fever bright "Don't worry about it Peter" his tone was warm and reassuring "Just rest, we'll manage"
"You say that like you're not dying too" Bucky muttered, grabbing the tissues and dropping them into Peter's lap, he slumped back onto the couch beside Steve, metal arm propped up against the armrest, exhaustion etched into every line of his face
Peter nodded weakly, clutching the tissues like a lifeline. He wanted to help to do something but his limbs felt like concrete, every time he pushed himself upright, the room swam and he flopped back onto the couch, useless
At some point, Steve started drifting in and out of sleep against Bucky’s shoulder, breath hitching with every cough. Bucky tilted his head, pressing his lips to Steve’s damp hairline in a soft, absentminded kiss
Peter immediately buried his face in the blanket, ears blazing. Nope, didn’t see that, not my business, just gonna die here.. quietly
His fever spiked again that evening, sweat soaking through his hoodie, he heard Bucky sigh, felt the blanket being peeled back, another one thrown over him instead, cooler and softer, he mumbled something, thanks maybe, but the words tangled on his tongue
The last thing he saw before slipping under was Bucky shifting Steve down so he was lying flat, brushing a washcloth gently across his husband’s temple. Steve murmured something back, too soft to catch
Peter shut his eyes tighter, cheeks burning hotter than his fever.
This was going to be hell
—------
The first night was worse
Peter ouldn’t get comfortable. Too hot, then too cold. He’d sweat through one t-shirt, shivered into another, then sweated through that too. His head throbbed with every heartbeat, lungs aching each time he coughed until black spots crowded the edges of his vision.
At some point he gave up trying to sleep, staring at the ceiling. The living room lights were dimmed, only the glow from the kitchen casting shadows across the couch. He could hear Bucky and Steve on the other couch, both of them restless.
Steve coughed, low, chesty, endless. Bucky’s voice followed, ragged but gentle: “Easy, easy. Breathe doll”
Peter pulled the blanket over his head, ears burning. Not my business, not my business
Steve rasped something too soft to catch. Then Bucky again, closer this time, words curling into the silence: “I’ve got you, husband. Just rest.”
Peter froze.
…husband?
His fever-fogged brain tried to piece it together. Husband. As in… married husband? Not just… “pal” or “partner-in-war” or whatever?
He peeked out from under the blanket. On the other couch, Steve was half-curled against Bucky, head tucked under his chin. Bucky was holding the damp washcloth against his temple, thumb stroking slow circles into his hairline. The picture of exhausted tenderness.
Peter’s stomach flipped so hard it almost overrode the nausea. He wanted to disappear into the couch cushions.
Oh my god. They’re married. They’re actually married and I’ve been in this apartment for twelve hours not realizing it.
He sank lower under the blanket, pulling it all the way up to his hairline. His face burned hotter than his fever.
From across the room, Steve’s voice floated, wrecked and soft: “Go to sleep, Buck.”
Bucky’s reply was a grumble Peter couldn’t make out, but a kiss pressed to Steve’s damp hairline was loud enough.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut. Yep. Definitely the most awkward week of my entire life.
—------
Morning came in fragments, sunlight too bright through the blinds, the sound of someone coughing so hard it rattled the walls, the smell of tea brewing somewhere close.
Peter sat hunched on the couch, blanket cocooned tight, clutching a mug Bucky had shoved into his hands without a word. His fever still burned, throat raw, but the warmth seeped into his fingers anyway.
He risked a glance at the other couch. Steve looked worse than yesterday, pale and trembling under the pile of blankets, head pillowed on Bucky’s chest. Bucky, for all his gruffness, looked just as wrecked, sweaty hair in his face, eyes bloodshot, but his arm was curled protectively around Steve’s shoulders, steadying him through each cough.
Peter dropped his gaze back to his tea. Right. Husband. They’re husbands. Not just roommates, not just best friends, married, like rings-and-vows married. And I’ve been third-wheeling their sickbed love story this whole time.
He must’ve let something slip on his face, because Steve’s voice, hoarse but kind, cut through the silence: “You alright there, son?”
Peter startled. “I- yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine. Just- uh… sorry for intruding on…” He flailed a hand vaguely between them, cheeks heating. “All this.”
Steve’s smile was weak but real. “You’re not intruding. We’re glad you’re here.”
Bucky snorted, rough and sharp. “Glad is a stretch.” But then he shifted the blanket higher over Steve’s shoulders, metal fingers brushing tenderly through his damp hair, and Peter knew better.
Something in his chest unclenched, just a little. He took another sip of tea, coughing when it burned down his sore throat.
Steve reached over, pale hand trembling but steady in intent, and set a second blanket across Peter’s lap. “Rest, Peter. That’s all any of us can do right now.”
And for once, Peter didn’t argue. He leaned back into the cushions, blanket pulled to his chin, fever dragging his eyes shut. The last thing he registered before slipping under was Bucky’s muttered, “Try not to snore, kid,” and Steve’s soft laugh that turned into another cough.
It was miserable, disgusting, and awkward beyond belief.
But for the first time since the fever hit, Peter didn’t feel alone.