Chapter Text
“Boss, wake up.”
Tony Stark had woken up in some very strange circumstances throughout his life. Before Iron Man, there were the hungover mornings; laid beside a woman or a man or both, rarely able to remember anyone’s name – even his own, on occasion, if Pepper and Rhodey’s stories were to be believed. Sometimes he’d wake up on the workshop floor, glancing around for signs of smouldering equipment to ascertain whether he’d blown himself up and passed out or just fallen asleep from exhaustion like usual. More recently, he might find himself waking up on a couch in his New York penthouse, being slapped gently on the face by a ten-month-old’s curious hands, which was definitely a level of strange the Tony Stark of twenty years ago would have never expected.
But being who he was, Tony Stark had also woken up in some pretty dire circumstances. A cold dark cave in the late noughties, kidnapped by terrorists, was one. New York, 2012, surrounded by The Avengers after almost dying throwing a missile into a wormhole, that was pretty sketchy too.
So, when F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice came over the embedded speakers of his bedroom on the morning of May 29th, at what Tony deduced was an ungodly hour judging by still-starry sky outside the window, Tony’s brain took a moment to decide whether this was one of those strange circumstances, or a dire one. He was hoping for strange.
“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said again, her voice hushed but still loud enough to rouse Tony properly, now.
“Fri, what’s going on?” Tony asked as he bolted upright in his bed, throwing the covers off and reaching for the teddy-bear themed novelty slipper’s Rhodey had bought him as a gift at Christmas. As he moved, he pressed the discrete button on the watch he never removed, feeling the nanobots slither from their casing to form a gauntlet over his fist. “Are the kids okay?”
“Neither Peter nor Abbigail are in immediate danger, although I would suggest that Peter does require your assistance at your earliest convenience.”
The vice-like grip around Tony’s chest loosened a little. He sagged back into the mattress, clicking his watch again to retract the gauntlet. Okay, so this was a strange level wake up, not dire. At least that was something.
“Enough with the being cryptic, Fri.” He swiped a hand down his face, the initial adrenaline of his panicked awakening wearing off. “What’s going on?”
“It appears Peter is feeling under the weather. He has a low-grade fever and has been vomiting for the past twenty minutes. Although insisting I shouldn’t contact you, I have deemed his symptoms severe enough to override his request.”
And, just like that, the panic-fuelled adrenalin was back.
Peter had only gotten sick a handful of times since Tony had known him. He knew that, after the spider bite, Peter had hoped he’d never get sick again. Afterall, the bite gave him muscles, took away his childhood asthma, made it so that he no longer needed his glasses; surely the common cold was no match for that level of mutation. Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the case. Despite the bite, Peter could still get sick, although it didn’t happen nearly as often as it did pre-Spider-Man, or so Tony was told. When it did happen though? The kid was a mess. His illnesses tended to hit him for half the usual duration an ordinary human might experience, but with double the impact. Yeah, the next few hours were going to be rough.
Tony strode towards the hallway quickly, grabbing a sweater he had thrown on the floor the previous night along the way, deciding he would assess the situation and go from there.
As usual, Peter’s door was slightly ajar, and now he was out of his own room and in the hallway, Tony could hear Abby crying from her crib and faintly, the tell-tale sound of vomit hitting porcelain coming from the general direction of Peter’s bathroom. Poor kid.
Making his way into the still-dark room, Tony checked on Abby quickly, deciding that although the girl was crying, she was fine and could hang on for a couple of minutes while Tony looked in on Peter.
The sound of retching was loud in the quiet of the night, despite the door to the room’s en suite being closed. Tony knocked gently before letting himself into the bathroom.
Yep. Pete was sick alright. The kid was sprawled on the grey tiled floor, forehead resting against the rim of the toilet seat as he heaved, the band t-shirt he’d worn to bed last night clinging to his back with sweat.
“Hey, Petey,” Tony greeted softly, moving to crouch down beside the boy to rub soothing circles on his back as he retched again. “You’re not doing so great, huh kiddo?”
Peter groaned, turning his head slightly to glance up at Tony pitifully, his skin pale and brow covered in a light sheen of sweat.
“Oh, kiddo. Hang tight here a sec and I’ll go get you some of the good stuff, okay?” He was pretty certain he still had some of Peter’s super-meds in the family bathroom from last time the kid had been sick.
Peter shook his head, closing his eyes at the movement. “Make—” he swallowed down another bout of nausea. “Make sure Abs is okay first.”
“Pete, she’ll be fine for a minute, you need—”
“Please, Tony.”
Tony sighed, knowing arguing with the kid would be futile and not wanting to waste any more time than absolutely necessary.
“Fine,” he relented, “I’ll be as quick as I can, okay?”
Peter didn’t have time to answer before he was turning his head and vomiting once more.
Tony grimaced at the sound. Jesus, he hated leaving him. But Abby’s cries were starting to give him a headache; he couldn’t imagine what the noise was inadvertently doing to Peter’s sensitive senses.
Tony strode back into the bedroom, scooping Abby from her crib one-handed – his prosthetic still sat on its stand in his closet – and made his way back to his own bedroom, shouldering the door shut behind himself in the hope of giving Peter’s ears some peace.
“Shh, shh, shh, honey, it’s okay,” Tony soothed as he rocked his granddaughter. “Daddy’s going to be fine, I’ll make sure of it. Grandpa will fix it, baby, don’t worry.”
It took almost twenty minutes of rocking and whispered comforts for the little girl to finally stop crying, and another ten for her to settle enough for Tony to lay her in the spare crib he kept in his own room. She was still wide awake though, and Tony knew one wrong move, one accidental sudden noise, would have the girl in tears again, and Peter had already been suffering alone for too long. So, he was careful and as light-footed as possible as he grabbed his phone from the bedside table, dialling Pepper’s number while he moved towards the closet to grab his Iron Arm.
He needed reinforcements.
“Tony?” Pepper answered on the third ring, her voice uncharacteristically groggy when the call finally connected. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Hey, Pep, sorry it’s early,” Tony answered. He heard Pepper’s bedsheets shuffle and knew the woman would already be getting out of bed and finding herself an outfit, even without knowing what was going on. A couple of decades working with SI – or, maybe more specifically, working with Tony – meant that she was always ready for whatever was thrown at her. Even if it was only a handful of hours past midnight. “Pete’s pretty sick, you think you could come over and hang out with Abs for a little bit while I scrape him off the bathroom floor?” Despite his teasing tone, he knew Pepper would be able to hear the worry that laced his voice. Sure, it was probably just a stomach bug, but he hated seeing his kid sick.
“Oh, no, poor Peter,” Pepper said sympathetically, all traces of sleep gone from her voice as though they hadn’t even been there in the first place. Tony thought he heard the sound of a door locking. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Tony let out a sigh of relief.
He was just about to hang up when Pepper spoke again. “Oh, and Tony?” she said, the smile in her voice evident even through the phone speaker. “Happy birthday.”
Tony smiled wryly to himself despite the situation as he affixed his Iron Arm to his shoulder and made his way back into the bedroom, thanking whichever Gods might be out there that Pepper had decided to buy a place so near to the Tower and cursing whoever had decided today of all days was the day Peter would get sick. His frustration wasn’t for his sake; he’d had plenty of birthdays; he didn’t mind missing one to look after his kid. But he knew how much birthdays and holidays meant to Peter. He was going to be so disappointed to be sick for Tony’s birthday.
Ten minutes. He could get through ten minutes. Peter could get through another ten minutes, and then Abby would be in safe hands and Tony would be all his.
He knelt down beside Abby’s crib, using his thumb to stroke over the little girl’s flushed cheek gently, assuring her that Auntie Pepper was coming, and her daddy would be fine. Abby blinked up at him, her eyes still watery.
Peter was still retching weakly when Tony re-entered his bathroom, arms laden with everything he thought he might need to take care of his sick spider-kid.
He placed his supplies on the floor by the bathtub, moving to Peter’s side. He pushed the sweat dampened hair from Peter’s forehead with a gentle hand as the he turned his head to look at Tony.
“Is Abby okay?” Peter asked tiredly, his voice raw.
“She’s fine, kiddo. Pep’s come over to take care of her for a little while so I can concentrate on taking care of you.”
Peter’s face crumpled, his eyes filling with tears. Out of pain or relief, Tony wasn’t sure. Maybe it was a bit of both.
“Hey, come on, now,” Tony reassured gently, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders, unflinching at the sweat-soaked shirt. The teen leant into him heavily, still ensuring his head was over the toilet bowl. “I know being sick sucks, Petey, but it’s okay. Abby’s fine,” Tony continued, knowing the little girl was always Peter’s first priority, “and once we get some of the good stuff in you and have you rest for a little bit, you’ll be back to being a pain in my ass in no time,” he finished with a smile, placing a kiss on Peter’s fevered brow.
Peter huffed what could have been interpreted as a laugh, though the expression came out breathy and lethargic; so far away from his usual energy-filled mannerisms.
Sniffing grossly, Peter moved his head slowly to look up at Tony, his eyes filling with tears again. “I’ve ruined your birthday,” he croaked.
God, this kid. So selfless it made Tony’s heart break and fill to bursting all at the same time.
“You haven’t ruined anything, kiddo,” Tony said softly, sincerely. He wiped away a tear that had fallen down Peter’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Now stop thinking like that and let me take care of you, okay?”
“We might still be able to make our reservation at the restaurant tonight. Once the dugs kick in I’ll probably—”
“Petey, I love you kid, and I love your enthusiasm, but I don’t give a shit about the restaurant; we can move our reservation to tomorrow or to next week or, hell, even to next month, for all I care. The best present you can give me is getting better, so let me take care of you and stop worrying about the date, okay kiddo?”
Peter’s nod was almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it was all the confirmation Tony needed.
He reached across to the bag of supplies he’d brought with him, leaning precariously across the tiled floor to maintain contact with Peter whilst rummaging through the pack. His hand landed on what he was looking for, finding the bottle of pills Helen had prescribed Peter last time he’d been sick and popping a couple into Peter’s awaiting hand.
“Let me get you the water,” Tony said before Peter even had time to attempt to swallow the pills dry. He could only imagine how wrecked Peter’s throat would be after a few hours of throwing up, trying to dry swallow the pills definitely wouldn’t help the matter.
Reaching into the pack again, Tony’s hand easily found the bottle of water he’d brought with him; still cold from the fridge.
“Little sips,” he said, handing Peter the bottle.
Too exhausted to quip back, Peter did as he was told; swallowing the pills one at a time with small sips of water, grimacing as the medication slipped down his stinging throat before handing the bottle of water back to Tony.
“Do you want to stay here a while longer or do you think you’re done for now?” Tony asked gently. The cold of the tiles was seeping into his skin, the unforgiving hardness making his knees ache, but he’d endure that discomfort for hours if it was what Peter needed.
His kid leant against his side heavily, shivering slightly as the sweat coating his skin cooled and the chills from his sickness wracked through his body.
“I don’t think there’s anything left,” Peter answered hoarsely.
Tony let out a humourless huff. “Okay. Fresh clothes and bed then? Give those meds chance to kick in?”
Peter nodded his head once before seeming to think better of the movement.
Against all his instincts, Tony left Peter alone on the bathroom floor for a few more minutes whilst he set about changing the sweat-soaked bedsheets and grabbing a fresh set of pyjamas for the kid to change into.
After helping him stand slowly and change into the new set of sleepwear, Tony guided Peter out of the bathroom and towards his bed with an arm around the kid’s waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the clammy skin on Peter’s hip bone where his hand rested.
Once he’d tucked Peter in under the comforter, Tony made his way to the bathroom again, quickly clearing up and grabbing a bowl from the cupboard under the sink to place at the side of Peter’s bed. Just in case.
He was hovering over Peter’s bedside table, making sure the kid had his water, pills and tissues within arm’s reach when Peter spoke.
“Will you stay?” Peter whispered.
Tony looked down at the boy that was his entire world, laid in bed with the covers pulled up to his chin, looking pitiful and small. It was true that having kids filled your heart and broke it, both in equal measure.
“I’m not going anywhere, kiddo,” Tony replied softly, brushing Peter’s fringe back from his forehead.
Peter gazed up at him in that adoring way that seemed to come so naturally to him, and that Tony was sure he didn’t deserve, his eyes filling with a fresh set of tears.
Before they had chance to fall, Tony was at the other side of the bed, climbing in under the covers and pulling Peter into his side, Peter coming willingly into his embrace.
In the dim light of the early morning, they settled with Peter’s head resting on Tony’s shoulder, the elder man stroking Peter’s hair with one hand and his back with the other. Hardly a few minutes had passed before Tony felt Peter’s breathing even out as his kid fell into an exhausted sleep. Still, Tony didn’t stop his comforting movements. When Peter began to drool onto his t-shirt, Tony only held him tighter.
Peter’s crazy radioactive-spidey-DNA really was something. By the time the sun was beginning to set that evening, the kid was almost completely back to normal. Tony still insisted that they cancel their dinner reservations and made Peter eat something boring and bland in its stead, earning him a grumble and an elbow in the side from said spider-kid. But, for all intents and purposes, Peter was feeling better.
They had decided to keep him away from Abby for another few hours at least, not wanting the other spider-baby of the family to pick up her daddy’s illness. Peter hadn’t been happy but knew that he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if Abby ended up sick because of him. Pepper was more than capable of handling the bedtime routine, Tony reminded him, and when Abby woke up in the morning, Peter would be there again, no longer infectious and feeling well enough to deal with an almost-toddler. It also helped that Abby and Pepper were literally down the hall, having set Tony’s bedroom up as a makeshift creche whilst they isolated from Peter.
Despite Peter’s arguing, Tony decreed that they would save all the birthday festivities, including gift giving, until the next day, when Peter was fully better, and the rest of the family would be able to come over to share in the day.
“But your birthday is May twenty-ninth,” Peter whined, a clear sign he was feeling a lot better. “Not May thirtieth, we have to celebrate today!”
“Pete,” Tony began, pausing the movie the two of them had been watching and bundling the half-dozen blankets he’d insisted he wrap Peter in around the boy’s shoulder more thoroughly. “Bruce, Happy and Rhodey love you, but not enough to share stomach bugs with you.”
Peter grumbled but conceded, burrowing into the blankets gladly, shooting Tony a look.
“Tomorrow, spider-baby,” Tony promised, patting Peter’s cheek gently.
“Fine,” Peter sighed dramatically, “presents and birthdays tomorrow.”
“My God, for once he actually listens to me! Are you sure you’re feeling better?”
Peter chuckled begrudgingly, making to swipe for Tony’s head but graciously allowing the older man to dodge it.
They settled into a comfortable silence again as Tony restarted the movie. Star Wars. Obviously.
He could see Peter fidgeting out of his peripheral vision and was just about to ask the kid if he was okay when Peter spoke.
“Maybe, since you can’t have your presents until tomorrow… maybe a hug would tide you over? You know, make the wait a bit more bearable?” Peter suggested, Tony’s ears straining to hear the almost whispered words.
Tony looked at his kid, cocooned in blankets at the side of him and felt warmth gathering behind his eyes. What had he done in a previous life to deserve Peter? How could the universe have possibly gifted such a pure, kind-hearted kid to someone like him? Peter Parker, now Parker-Stark, was, and always had been, the best of them, and Tony was so lucky to get to know him and even luckier to get to love him and look after him.
“I think a hug would be absolutely perfect, kiddo,” Tony replied, hoping his voice didn’t betray the sudden wave of emotion Peter’s simple suggestion had caused. “Just what the doctor ordered and definitely what I want most for my birthday,” Tony smiled. “Get over here.”
Tony opened his arms wide as Peter shuffled unceremoniously across the couch towards him, losing a couple of blankets to the effort along the way. Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s middle as the elder man embraced him, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin and holding him tightly.
They stayed like that until the end of the movie, and for a while after that as well.