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“Just leave me alone to die, Mr. Stark.”
Tony rolls his eyes as the spiderling spews another round of vomit into the toilet. He picked Peter up from school after the nurse called and said that the kid has the stomach flu and needs to be taken home. Since May is working, that leaves the kid to Tony’s responsibility.
Tony doesn’t mind, the kid is like a son to him (which he refuses to admit out loud). He even offered May to let Peter stay the night, but he has absolutely no idea as to how to take care of a sick teenager. Right now, the phrase “Flying by the seat of his pants” is a very accurate statement.
Once Peter is done, Tony helps him up off the floor to lead him back to his bedroom, “Sorry, squirt, but I get the feeling that dying wouldn’t be this miserable.”
Peter groans as he plops down on his mentor’s bed, “You sure you don’t mind me sleeping in your bed?”
Tony snorts as he gets on the other side of the bed, making sure that there’s a trash can next to Peter before doing so, “Kid, it’s my bed. If I minded, I wouldn’t have offered.”
The teen snuggles under the covers and turns his head towards Tony, “I’m scared I’m gonna get you sick….”
Tony can’t help but smile. Even while sick as a dog, this kid is so selfless, “I got exposed to those germs the second I walked into the nurse’s office. Whatever it is, it’s already in my system; if I get sick, I get sick.”
“I’m sor -”
“Nope, none of that. I’m now forbidding you from having the word, ‘sorry,’ as part of your vocabulary.”
Peter can’t help but chuckle, but as soon as he did, he turns to his trash can and upchucks more of his lunch. Tony soothingly rubs his hand up and down his kid’s back.
Peter puts down the trash can when he’s done and drinks some ginger ale that Tony put on the nightstand earlier. He then turns back to Tony, “Ugh, how much longer am I gonna be like this?”
Tony moves his hand from the kid’s back to his unruly curls, “Not long, I promise. Once your healing factor kicks in, you’ll be fine in no time, just give it a couple of days.”
Peter groans, “How’d I even get sick to begin with?”
“No one has a perfect immune system, not even spider-babies’.”
Peter’s face scrunches up in a pouty look, “I’m not a baby.”
Tony rolls his eyes, “Suuuure you’re not.”
“Mr. Staaaaaark, I’m fifteen.”
“And that still qualifies as a baby in my book.” Tony lightly nudges the kid’s shoulder, “C’mon, don’t pretend. I know you like the name, it suits you.”
Peter can’t help but silently admit that he does like the nicknames that Tony gives him. His pouty look slowly turns into one of content.
Since the kid had no appetite at dinner, Tony is about to ask if Peter’s hungry when he sees said spider-baby try and fail to stifle a yawn.
Tony smirks, “G’night, spider-baby.”
Peter playfully slaps the older man with his pillow, “Shut up.”
Tony laughs and uses his own pillow to hit back.
Peter puts down his pillow right next to his father figure and snuggles up into said man’s side.
Tony’s heart melts at the sight. He pretends to be annoyed, “Really? You got this whole king-size bed and you’re here?”
Peter somehow gets even closer and sighs in content, “Not my fault you’re warm and comfy.”
Tony snorts, then slouches down in his bed so that his kid can be comfortable while he still leans against the headboard. Peter proceeds to abandon his pillow completely and lay his head on Tony’s chest.
Tony turns on the TV and turns to a low volume, “Oh, am I your pillow, now?”
Peter wraps his arm around the older man’s torso, “Yup, why use a pillow when you’re clearly better?”
“Kid, it’s Memory Foam.”
The spiderling just shrugs, “But it’s not you.”
Tony rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around his kid’s waist, “You’re lucky you’re sick, you know that?”
Peter looks up at his mentor in amusement, “Like we haven’t done this before, Mr. Stark. How many times have we fallen asleep on the couch?”
Tony looks back at the teen, “Goodnight, kiddo.”
Peter settles in against his father figure’s chest, “G’night...iron-baby.”
Tony snorts and lightly smacks the spiderling’s head, “Never ever call me that again. I have a reputation, you know.”
Peter rolls his eyes before muttering, “No promises.”