Outnumbered

Chapter 6

"Daddy!" Morgan screams, and it's the urgency in it that fills him with the coldest dread.

"Morgan?" he yells, ripping his reading glasses off and running toward the sound of her voice. "Morgan? What's wrong, baby?"

"Da-DDY!" She's wailing, her cries echoing through the house. "Da-DDY!"

"Sir," FRIDAY announces through his StarkWatch as he winds his way through the hallway. "You have multiple Dexcom alarms from Peter. There's an Urgent Low Glucose alert and a Fall Rate alert. He's currently 58 mg/dL and dropping at a rate of 3 mg/dL per minute."

Shit. Had he been so engrossed in his article that he'd missed the alerts?

He nearly trips on Peter's backpack as he bounds into the living room, which is where he finds Morgan screaming and shaking as tears stream down her face. "He's sick, Daddy! P-Peter's sick!"

"Pete?" Tony's voice booms through the house as he pulls Morgan into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, but there's no answer.

When he turns the corner into the kitchen, he sees why she's so panicked: Peter is slumped as he sits against the wall, face pale and sweaty, eyes half-lidded.

"Jesus," Tony says as he squats down to be eye-level with Peter, Morgan wrapping herself tightly around her father in fear. "FRIDAY just said you were 58 and dropping, kiddo. You still with me?"

Peter groans as he blinks his eyes open.

"Morgan, honey, I need you to get me two juice boxes from the pantry," he says softly, attempting to peel her away from him. "Can you do that for Daddy?"

"Is Peter okay?" she says, sniffing, tightening her grip.

"Peter's gonna be fine, but I need you to get that juice for me, okay?"

She nods, and Tony can sense her reluctance, but she lets go, wipes her face, still sniffling, of course, and brushes her hair out of her eyes before running over to the pantry.

"Didn't quite make it to the fridge, did you?" he asks Peter to lighten the tone.

"M'low," Peter says, words slurring.

"Yeah, I know, kiddo," he says, sighing. "Did your basal pause yet?"

"Mmm?" Peter asks, or rather, hums, and it's only then that Tony realizes how disoriented the kid is. He reaches for Peter's pump clipped to his hip, clicks through the prompts on the screen, and makes sure Peter's pump has automatically suspended insulin while they work to get his low blood sugar up. When Morgan returns, he unwraps one of the straws and pops it into a juice box.

"Good job, Morgan. Thank you," he says to her, and she beams, kneels down beside them as Tony brings the straw to Peter's lips.

"Don't...feel so good," Peter mumbles. He takes a few sips before letting the straw fall from his lips. "Dizzy." He's breathing heavy, looks and sounds like he just ran a marathon, and Tony's stomach drops when Peter's head starts to loll to the side.

"Gotta keep drinking," Tony coaxes, pushing the straw back to Peter's lips as he supports Peter's head.

"No," Peter moans, but he sips anyway.

"Baby, can you get Peter's backpack? I think I saw it in the living room."

She nods, gets to her feet, and hurries off, Tony focusing back on Peter, who is pushing the straw away with his tongue.

"Don't wanna gluc you unless I have to, kiddo. Keep drinking for me."

The mention of emergency glucagon turns Peter's eyes wide. "N-no," he says, groaning. "Please don't. I'll go...so high..."