Warning! Fluff overload. I did warn you :P

This is a request from LuvFiction Xxxx

Spidey stumbled slightly as he walked away from the scene. He'd just stopped a would-be-rapist in what had been the longest string of trouble happening he'd encountered in a while within New York City – all throughout the night and into the next day. His head was pounding, and he felt more and more dizzy with each passing moment that went by. But he'd carried on, carried on because with each second he didn't give up, another life could be saved, another crime prevented, and another child home safe to their family.

A horrific cough racked through his aching throat and he had to lean against a wall for support, resting his burning forehead against the cool brick – he was sure he had a fever. And it didn't help that a guy had managed to get the better of him earlier, due to his growing weakness, and had wrapped a strong, meaty hand around his slender neck.

Suddenly, a scream tore through the air from a few alleys over, and Spidey's head whipped up, slightly unfocused, in its direction. Without stopping to consider his condition, he began to stride over - a little unsteadily. He quickly broke into a jog, then a run, before he was tearing across the road and down the sidewalk. Though, because of Spidey's feverish, disorientated state, he failed to notice the many pairs of highly concerned eyes currently following his every move, boring into his skinny red and blue back. Those eyes happened to have been doing so more and more - increasing as time went by - and had laid witness to his little moment of weakness. The fact that he was on foot, a very unusual sight for Spider-Man, also didn't bear well with their growing concern.

"Hey!" Spidey yelled, slightly tired, but angry - all his quips having left him in his mind-numbing state of exhaustion - and barrelled into a man who was currently beating up another man for his cash, sending him sailing to the ground. He went over and picked up the wallet that had been dropped in the process (struggling not to keel over) and handed it back to the twenty-odd-year-old man with scruffy brown hair, who was taking deep breaths from his place near the opening of the alleyway.

"Here's your wal-let," he found himself slurring, as he clumsily dumped the small leather item against the man's chest and into his hands, before leaning over on his knees, oddly winded. He stayed there for far too long, blinking his eyes behind the lenses in attempts to clear his blurry vision and ease his pounding headache, but, he hadn't thought through his actions properly.

Suddenly, there was a distressed yell, followed by another shout of what sounded like, "look out!" His spider-sense flared, causing him to scream out and clutch his hands to his head as it wreaked havoc with his headache, before a fist suddenly made contact with the back of his skull.

He hit the ground reeling. Two hands clamped down on his shoulders, and yanked him unsteadily to his feet. He thought he heard someone say, "how dare you, ya little punk!" before another fist was heading towards his jaw. Spidey tried to shift back, pulling his arms up in front of himself defensively as he slammed against the wall, too weak and disorientated to defend himself. But it never made contact.

Another hand intervened, slamming his attacker's hard moments before his fist could reach him, grabbing the criminal and dragging him away. Then there were two people, three, as New Yorkers seemed to pile in from everywhere, landing on the guy until he could no longer get up. Trapped.

Spidey tried to breathe, but the edges of his vision were going dark and he swayed. He turned towards the wall and slapped his hands against it, before crawling hastily, but slowly, out of the alley.

"Hey, hey, hey. Spidey!" he heard a male voice yell, before hands were reaching out to him. He immediately flinched, squeezing back against the contact with the brick wall behind him, pulling his hands up defensively as if being further attacked.

"No! No, it's alright. It's alright, Spidey. You're not being hurt anymore, you're not in danger. You're fine. See?" the man (who Spidey couldn't currently make out the face of) said, holding his hands up non-threateningly. He then looked over his shoulder at the other New Yorkers and yelled, "Hey...hey! I'm gonna need some help over here!" before focusing back on the confused hero.

Spidey gasped for breath, chest heaving against the pain in his head - throughout his entire body - before finding himself leaning down further against the wall, unable to fully support his own weight anymore.

More people immediately came over, and a woman's face was suddenly in his, while another man placed his hands against his side. "Spider-Man. Spidey, can you hear me? You're going to need to lie down, ok? Lie down," she coaxed, before he had at least four people gently easing him to the ground.

Spidey gasped, the relief overwhelming as his head was rested, chest heaving in desperate gulps, before he felt a soft hand brush against his masked forehead.

"Oh great, he's burning up," he heard the woman say in alarm, before there were a few mumbled words.

"We should call an ambulance," one of the men said, and Spidey jolted, suddenly trying to heave himself up on his elbows, blindly reaching a hand out to cling to the wall above him while shaking his head, intending to climb up.

A hospital in his current state would be a bad idea. He didn't fully trust how the staff may treat him.

"Whoa, ok, ok," another voice said and he was firmly grabbed so he could escape no further, a pair of hands clasping gently at his own.

"Spidey, let go. Come on, let go," they said as they firmly gripped it, trying to pry it off, but Spidey stubbornly refused to let go of the wall.

"He obviously doesn't want to go to a hospital," he heard.

"Well, that may be understandable. He probably has good reasons," someone else said thoughtfully, before there was a pause.

"We won't take you to the hospital, Spidey, ok? We won't. You have to trust us," a young woman's voice then piped in strongly, and something inside him finally seemed to relax. He let go of the wall.

Slowly, he was laid back down again, and a gentle hand began to stroke his head through the mask, lightly massaging the spot between his two eye lenses on his brow. It was soothing. He swallowed, soon finding himself calming at the touch. Was it possible that it was easing his headache? He let out a small, relieved whimper.

Silence seemed to surround them for a moment, and he blinked his eyes open, apparently having closed them, to see his vision slowly clearing. A dozen faces were looking down at him. They seemed curious, fascinated, almost perplexed by his reaction. Was it that they hadn't expected him to react to such kindness? Did they not think he ever hurt? That he ever needed it? Had most New Yorkers dehumanised him that much? Or made him out to be some perfect being?

Spidey looked away and sighed, resting his head once again against the cool bricks, looking for further relief from the burning against his skin. It was then that another round of painful, racking coughs hit his body, making him shake and shudder, and his throat to scream as it was torn with the strain. Spidey whimpered, letting out a deep groan as the fit finally subsided, and he came to notice a hand was carefully rubbing circles on his back, as he'd curled in further against the wall.

Someone unexpectedly gripped him under the arms and turned him over, so he could come face to face with an elderly man. His grey/blue eyes bore deep into his mask curiously, and his brow knitted in heavy concern. After finishing his gaze the man turned down to his side, where he started rummaging through a brown leather bag, the colour not that much unlike his father's old briefcase.

Spidey shook the thoughts from his mind as the man brought out a small flashlight, and shone it towards his lenses. Spidey flinched at the extra light, it causing his head to spike in pain, and tried to curl his face against the wall again. The man then reached out a hand to feel his forehead, frowning as he seemed unsatisfied, before holding the torch up again.

"Spidey, can you open your mouth for me, please?" he asked politely, a hand curling around the side of his jaw. Spidey tried to turn away. "Can you open your mouth for me?" he then repeated, a bit firmer, as he tried to slip a thumb under the seam of his mask. Spidey sagged, too weak to put up a fight, and tilted his head back so he could lift it above his mouth, before opening up wide.

"Good boy. Good boy." The man almost chanted, as he shone the torch down Spidey's throat, trying to get as good a look as he could under the circumstances, and Spidey opened his mouth wider and tilted his head back further as the man coaxed him to do so. Finally, he pulled back and switched the torch off, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Spidey rested back down with a sigh, quickly pulling the mask protectively down over his mouth.

"If I would say so correctly, I'd say he's got one nasty dose of the flu. He won't be going anywhere for a while," he said, the last part almost sadly with a tinge of worry, as he flitted his eyes around the street, like he was looking out for some sort of danger. "He needs rest," he then added. 'He couldn't possibly be feeling protective of him, could he?'

Suddenly, the soothing hand was back at his head, and he allowed himself to relax once again into their comfort, previous thoughts melting from his mind.

"Umm, hello, hi, umm...I run the shop just here, next door. Is there anything he needs?" A quiet and nervous sounding voice came from somewhere behind him, obviously having been watching the slightly sad encounter.

"Oh, yes, if you happen to have any cough medicine to soothe his throat?" the man he recognised as the doctor responded. "It looks pretty sore."

"Yes, yes I do. Just an ordinary one?"

"Yep, that would be great," the doctor replied.

"Ok," they said, before all was silent again. He heard the doctor sigh, before shifting, and two fingers were placed gently on his throat.

Spidey yelled in alarm and pain, scrambling back madly in distress and clinging to the wall, gasping as his throat ached painfully, swallowing against the slight swelling. A shudder went through his form as his dizziness spiked from rising so suddenly.

"Whoa, whoa, it's alright, Spidey. I wasn't going to hurt you," the doctor reassured, raising his arms peacefully.

Spidey ignored him, focusing on breathing in and out, deeper and deeper...

"Do you want me to take a look at that?" the doctor then asked softly after a few minutes had passed, keeping steady eye contact with the vigilante. "Are you hurt?" he added, slowly shifting forwards.

Spidey lowered his head to the wall, before rolling over on his back, once again resting on the ground.

The doctor came up next to him, and gently removed the spandex from spidey's neck, resting it just under his chin.

An array of gasps sounded from around him, before skilled fingers carefully ghosted over the painful, previously unnoticed coloured bruises just forming on his throat. The man sighed yet again, this time an extreme air of sadness to the sound, before yelling to whoever had been talking before from the nearby shop.

"Hey, can you add some cream for bruising too?" he said. It seemed only moments later that hurried footsteps could be heard, and someone knelt down beside him.

"Cough syrup, and ointment for bruising. Is that all?" they asked.

"For now, yes," the doctor replied. "How much do I owe you?"

"Oh nothing, don't worry about payment. He can have them for free," they offered.

Spidey was alarmed by this, and reached out a hand blindly in their direction, trying to protest, but they only took it that he wanted it more, and before he knew it, there was a medicine glass thick with brown liquid being held in front of him that the doctor had hurriedly poured out.

"Here," he said, waiting for him to lift his mask. Spidey just groaned. All he wanted to do was sleep, he was so tired, but he couldn't just take a nap here, on a public street. It wasn't safe!

Spidey started as his cheek was patted, eyes widening in sudden alertness, and he clumsily pulled his mask up. Slimy liquid was placed in his mouth, but he could barely focus, his awareness momentarily fading away, body begging for much-needed sleep.

"No, Spidey. NO!" the doctor suddenly yelled in tremendous panic, as he once again patted at his cheek, trying to drag him back from the blanket of sleep. Spidey groaned in protest before suddenly coughing, hacking; something slipping unwontedly down his throat.

"Spidey, swallow. Swallow it, Spidey, you'll choke! You must swallow!" the doctor yelled, grasping either side of his face and turning it slightly, trying to gain his attention. "Spidey!" he screamed, and the panic was overwhelming. Several hands grasped at him, he could hear heightened breathing, and crying, someone was crying. That, if anything, got through Spidey's sleepy mind, and he tried to force himself to awareness. He swallowed, the first one choked and only half there, before he tried again, and felt a large mass of slimy liquid slide down his throat. Despite the initial pain, it was surprisingly soothing against the ache.

Spidey breathed deeply, taking in much-needed oxygen, before the doctor was close again, shining a torch in his mouth, and he opened his tired eyes, looking briefly in the direction the crying had come from, before limply holding out an arm towards their knee, as if to say he'd acknowledged them, and that he was alright. He felt them grab it desperately, holding it tight, before he began to slip into unconsciousness. The last thing he heard was, "you're ok, Spidey, don't worry, we'll keep you safe," and his mask was placed back over his mouth, before blissful blackness seeped into his mind.

Spidey woke up about half an hour later due to the dry thirst in his mouth - his body still fighting the virus inside, as he could feel the heat burning from within him. He blinked open his eyes weakly, and noticed his head was no longer on the dry, hard ground, but instead resting in someone's lap. A hand was delicately tucked under his chin, while another lay on his forehead, identifying it as the same person that had been stroking his brow earlier.

He swallowed, and immediately regretted the action when it reminded him of his sore throat.

The hand under his chin tensed.

"I think he's awake," a female voice said softly above him, before there was the sound of footsteps, and someone knelt down beside him. Firm fingers rested carefully on his arm, before he recognised the voice of the doctor.

"Spider-Man, you with us?"

Spidey slapped his tongue in his dry mouth. "Thirsty," was all he said, voice a little husky and tired.

There was the sound of shuffling, and that mumbling again, before the man came back.

"Here, take it slow," was advised, and Spidey didn't mind when his mask was lifted up slightly for him. It trickled in, and he mostly just let it run to the back of his throat, swallowing slowly, before placing his hand up to signal that he'd had enough. The bottle was immediately pulled away.

"How are you feeling, Spidey? Where's it hurt the most?" he was asked.

"Mmm, am really hot, and...my head hurts. Throat, painful," he replied, finding it hard to talk straight. He really did have the flu. He hadn't felt this sick in a long time.

"Yeah, you're running a pretty high fever. We've had cool cloths on your head but right now they need replacing. They should be back with fresh ones soon enough, though. It's a bit hard since you're covered in spandex, but we're doing our best," the doctor explained.

Spidey, hmmmd, before taking in a shuddering breath – his whole body still aching. In a way he wished he hadn't woken up.

The man smiled down at him. "You okay there?" he asked politely.

"Y-yeah," Spidey slurred. "Just hurts," he elaborated. "Feels like I got hit with Thor's hammer."

The doctor and woman both looked at each other before bursting out laughing.

"Did I? Maybe I should go...arrest him. He shouldn't be picking on poor li'l spiders," he mumbled.

His company seemed terribly amused by his drunken humour, and Spidey swore he heard quite a number of other laughs join in, but his head was sore and his eyes were heavy, so he couldn't pay much attention, as he just went back to resting on the woman's lap, eyes momentarily sliding closed. That's when he noticed the slightly damp feeling on his neck.

Slowly, he dragged one of his gloved hands up to his throat, lightly touching it. There was definitely a sticky feeling to it under the suit.

"You ok?" the doctor asked with concern.

"Yeah, just, feels funny," he explained. He was surprised when the doctor just smirked at him, and he shifted his head to look at him curiously.

"Celia here helped me massage some ointment into it while you were out. It should help ease the bruising and make you more comfortable," he revealed, before going on, "I can't imagine the amount of people who must choke you, Spidey. I have no idea how you cope with all that," he said honestly.

"You get used to it," Spidey replied, and felt the fingers shift slightly under his chin; in obvious distaste to his statement.

He swallowed hastily, and smiled slightly under his mask. Even though it would never stop him from having to deal with the acts of violence thrown against him daily, it was a comfort to know that people still cared.

"All the same, those bruises were bad! It's unacceptable that people do that to you, Spidey – to anyone," the doctor vented.

"I know," Spidey answered, "but it comes with the job," he said. "It's just part of the package. I can try to do my best to dodge, but every now and then I'm always gonna get hit."

The man sighed, almost as if in sorrow, before rubbing at Spidey's arm.

"It's ready! It's ready! What do I do? Do I just leave it with you? Or does he want it now?" a voice suddenly piped up eagerly, and Spidey looked up a bit to see a middle-aged woman carefully carrying a jar of something that looked very much like homemade soup. And that's also when he noticed he was surrounded by at least ten other people, all casually sitting on the street walkway close by to where he lay, watching over him in what looked like slight concern. He also noticed the slightly protective pattern in which they may have been sitting.

Spidey gulped, ignoring the pain in his throat when he realised he's had a crowd of people quietly watching out for him this whole time, and decided to use his powers to stick his mask to his face, suddenly feeling slightly nervous and unsettled.

"Well, why don't we ask him? Spidey, would you like a little bit of soup? This woman here has very kindly put a lot of devotion into making some for you," the doctor said.

Spidey took in a shaky breath, contemplating it for a moment, before hesitantly nodding his head.

"Ok then, there you go!" the doctor exclaimed, and the woman's face lit up with the biggest smile he ever thought was possible, almost seeming excited, before quickly shuffling over and kneeling on the other side of him, getting out a small plastic bowl and large spoon.

Struggling to hold her hands steady, she started pouring it into the bowl before the doctor quickly told her to stop when he thought she'd got out enough. Replacing the lid to her jar and placing it on the ground she shifted closer, until she was practically leaning over him.

Spidey eyed the steaming broth attentively, lenses fixed on it, and didn't even move from that position as the doctor went in to lift up his mask. It stuck, the doctor's eyes widening in surprise, before Spidey tried to relax and the mask slid up.

"I didn't know you could do that," the man said in slight awe.

"Umm, yeah, I didn't realise it till recently, but... yeah," he said absentmindedly.

The woman looked between the two before dipping the spoon in the mixture, and lifted it towards his mouth.

The lady behind him lifted his head up a little higher, before he opened up. When no spider-sense warned him of danger, he sucked the soup off the spoon. He swallowed, and immediately choked when it slid down his sensitive throat, face scrunching up in pain and making a noise of distress when it hurt.

The woman started, eyes widening like saucers. "Does he not like it?" she panicked, looking desperately at the doctor.

"No, no it's alright, his throats just a little sore right now. We'll just have to take it slow," he explained calmly, while the hand under his chin slowly soothed him.

When Spidey had calmed down they gave him a minute, before slowly offering him another mouthful.

Spidey hesitated slightly, before opening up and letting the spoon slip in. He held the soup in his mouth for a moment - which didn't actually taste half bad - before swallowing again.

He immediately groaned and the lady once again comforted him, her other hand beginning to lightly massage his forehead.

They gave him another minute, before sure enough, the spoon was back again. Spidey's neck throbbed, and his throat ached deeply, so he quickly found himself hesitating again once it was in his mouth, his body tensing up. But his stomach was saying a different story, telling him it liked the gentle soup, by the way it seemed to beg for more.

Almost sensing his pain, the hands around his head shifted, moving to his cheeks before lightly running down his neck, massaging. It was effective, as through her gentle coaxing he found himself swallowing, before her hands moved back up again to resume their previous soothing.

Again, the lady put the spoon in his mouth. As if on cue, the hands moved again, and he found himself swallowing the minute they began to slip gently down his neck - working his tender throat.

They developed a system, one guiding the whole operation, one putting in the food, and one helping him swallow.

Soon enough, Spidey was full. Resting his head back further against the lap under him, he put his hand up, signalling that he'd had enough.

Getting the message, the woman put the remaining soup away, and the other lady's hands went back to massaging his forehead - one on his cheek. It was soothing, and soon Spidey found himself becoming sleepy, despite his screaming headache and the pain that took over his body.

He took one big, deep breath, before turning his head to the side slightly - preparing to rest. He wasn't quite allowed to yet, though, as there was a light tap on his cheek, and Spidey looked up to find the doctor innocently holding up a bottle of medicine and a spoon above him.

Spidey groaned, before the man poured out the mixture, and held it towards his mouth. Spidey obeyed, and took in the medicine - luckily this one being a little easier on his throat as it was intended to soothe it.

Licking his lips Spidey sighed at the relief it gave him, and let himself drift back towards sleep, bringing up one gloved hand and resting it tentatively over where it hurt on his throat. He felt his mask gently pulled back down, and a hand stroke at where his hairline would be, till before he knew it, he was fast asleep again.

Spidey woke up yet again to the sound of shouting. He felt better, his fever having gone down a lot, and a cool, wet cloth was rested on his forehead, another round the back of his neck.

He shifted, stretching out his legs, and froze. He was no longer lying on the rough concrete.

He blinked open his eyes, and was met with the view of a small room. His sluggish mind just stared for a while, too sick to process the contents around him properly, and he shifted his elbow, finding it moved against cushions. He was laid out on someone's small couch.

The voices were back again, and he groaned, resting his head to the side and taking deep breaths.

"Easy, bug boy."

Spidey's eyes snapped open. He tried to move, but a familiar, pale pair of hands held him in place.

"No, don't move."

"Gwen?" His voice was weaker, more pained than he expected, but came out just the same.

"Yes, it's me," came the reply.

"Whaa? Why are you here?" he shifted against the couch.

"Shh, don't talk," she said, as she once again pushed him back into the soft material. "You were on the news. Quite a stir you made there, so I came down to join these guys and help. Very nice people by the way. You're a lucky spider."

Spidey grunted in acknowledgement. Yes, the doctor and the others. He remembered. 'Where were they now?'

"A large mass of people started to accumulate, protesting against you, what with the being a vigilante and all, so someone offered to take you into their house to shelter you and they arranged to carry you in. I helped. It was just a short distance down the road. The cops have been hanging around, but they've made no move to come get you. I believe the others are currently arguing with some of the more vocal Spidey haters who are against you being protected. You've been asleep all afternoon."

"That long, hey?" he grunted.

"Yes, Peter."

"R-really, must be out of it."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and Spidey sighed.

"Your aunt's worried, I thought we'd better get you back home, and to bed, yeah?"

"Bed sounds good," Spidey said, already beginning to doze off slightly again.

Gwen giggled slightly at her tired boyfriend, before leaning forward and giving him a kiss on his masked head.

"You're gonna have to get up, bug boy. You've still gotta walk out of here so we can get you home."

The following groan pretty much expressed exactly how that made him feel, before he started to push himself up with Gwen's help.

"Can't I just sneak out the window?"

"And not let anyone know what happened to you, or say goodbye to your 'loyal fans'?"

Spidey groaned again, before obeying, and swinging his legs round to the edge of the couch. He slowly stood. Hooking an arm around Gwen, they began to hobble towards the front entrance, his booted feet practically dragging along the ground. He was so weak.

The minute Gwen brought them to the door, all the previous chatter died down. All eyes were now settled on the subject of their dispute.

"Spidey!" the doctor immediately moved forward the second he lay eyes on him. "Hey, how're you feeling?"

Spidey could only sigh in response, hanging his head.

The poor man looked concerned. "You should be resting. Come on, I'll come and lay you back down."

Before he had a chance to do much, Gwen piped up.

"Ahh, no, he says he wants to go home."

"Home, hey?" the man looked at Gwen, and then back towards Spidey's mask. "Well, I guess that's understandable, just-"

"How does he plan to get there?" Gwen completed the unasked question she could see in the man's eyes. "He says he has a way. And I'm gonna help him out a little."

"Oh, ok, well. You take care, Spidey. And...and here," he quickly moved back into the house, before emerging a few minutes later, "take these with you."

Gwen smiled sweetly at the man for him as she took the bag holding the remainder of the soup and medicines.

"Thank you," Spidey whispered sincerely, before sniffing and rubbing a hand over his forehead. Gwen immediately put down the bag in order to lift up his mask from his nose. He immediately breathed deep as the air reached his stuffy nose, not realising what he'd begun to miss, and his shoulders slumped in relief.

"Well, if you're sure you're ready to go home. We won't stop you. Just take care of yourself, ok?" the doctor said, while slowly rubbing his back.

"I will," Spidey answered, nodding his head, and Gwen smiled, before she started to coax him forward, moving down the steps and along the street. Spidey felt every pair of eyes on him as he allowed himself to be led forward by Gwen, until they finally reached far enough away to disappear.

Peter lay snuggled in bed, a goofy grin on his face with his hair all over the place as he watched Gwen string out the water in the basin.

"Now, don't you ever pull a stunt like that again, you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"That could've ended up a lot worse, and don't look at me like that, it's not funny."

Peter feigned pain as she slapped him over the forehead, before she placed the cloth over his sweaty head. She sighed, attempting to smooth down his unruly hair.

"What am I gonna do with you?" her grin betrayed her anger though, and they soon both found themselves bursting out into helpless laughter as their grins widened. "Come on, that's enough. You need to get some sleep. And you'd better stay in bed this time! No crime fighting for you, mister. You'll make an easy target for all those super-villains. And don't come running to me when you climb beat up to my windowsill when that happens. I did warn you."

"Gwen, I'm not going anywhere, ok? I promise, I won't go running off when sick again."

Gwen eyed him, her blue eyes thoughtful. "Pinky swear?" Peter's cheeky grin once again appeared on his lips.

"Pinky swear."

The happy sound of laughter could be heard bouncing around the room, as a smiling Aunt May made her way in with a warm, fresh bowl of soup.

I hope you enjoyed all that hurt/comforty goodness. Our dear little spider deserves all the love and compassion :) I was actually pretty miserable and sick myself when I wrote this. I guess it shows. But I'm sure we can all relate. See, even superheroes get sick sometimes and need a little extra helping hand :)