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Avengers parties were always hard on Peter. The crowds, the noise, the lack of other children, the drinking, the need to present himself well.
It was a lot for a 10 year old.
And Tony knew that. He checked in with his kid every chance he got. He didn’t have to think twice when he was spotted in conversations with people that he knew, mainly Happy, Pepper, and Rhodey.
He never needed to worry when Clint was on bended knee showing him something on his phone, the kid’s quiet giggles not even slightly stifled by his hands.
Tony smiled as he craned his head from his conversation with Old Coot Number 47 to find the boy and spotted Natasha crouched in front of him, adjusting his tie and collar while speaking warmly to him.
When Pepper had been talking his ear off about some project he was apparently in charge of , he cut her off to nod over to where Steve, Sam, Bruce were stood at the bar, Peter perched on the countertop, sucking soda through a straw.
“He’s the best thing that ever happened to you, you know?” she said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Don’t I know it,” he said fondly, taking a moment to watch how the kid let the straw slip from between his teeth to make a comment, too quiet to be heard from his side of the room but was obviously well received as the three men laughed in response, making Peter grin.
It was another few hours before the party began to die down, the old business officials that Pepper insisted be invited had left and it was mainly just the team scattered around the event room.
Tony looked up from his conversation with Bruce to see Peter sat cross-legged on the sofa, staring wide-eyed at the tv that Clint has switched on for him not too long ago, with the promise that the volume stayed down.
Tony glanced at the tv to see Brooklyn Nine-Nine, a show that Tony deemed okay for the child to watch, but regularly doubted himself when he heard Peter’s childish giggle at some of the jokes he was pretty sure he wasn’t old enough to understand.
But on a night like tonight? What were rules for if not to be broken?
But Peter wasn’t giggling. He sat with tired eyes as he followed along with the subtitles, picking at his fingers and occasionally tugging at his tie that Tony had tied for him.
And then Pepper re-tied.
Bruce followed Tony’s gaze to the young boy, smiling fondly at the child. “Go check on him, Tony, we can pick this up later,” Bruce insisted, a knowing look on his face.
Tony smiled sheepishly, “That obvious, huh?”
“Go,” Bruce said again, nodding towards the kid.
Tony stood from his seat and made his way over to his kid, crouching down beside him and resting his hand on the arm of the chair, where Peter immediately started rubbing his fingers over the links in his watch, eyes still on the tv.
“How’re you doing, bubba? You had a good night?” Tony asked brightly, despite the nagging feeling that something was bothering him.
“Uh-huh,” Peter mumbled, eyes moving towards Tony’s watch as he looped his fingers through the wristband.
“You sure? You’ve been a bit quiet,” Tony said, keeping his voice low to not draw unwanted attention.
Peter nodded, but Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
“Have you had anything to eat? I know you don’t like that fancy food they served at dinner,” Tony said, scrunching his nose up to make Peter laugh.
But he didn’t.
“Um, Pepper made me an PB&J, but I wasn’t very hungry,” he said quietly, eyes flittering between his father’s watch and the tv.
Tony tried again. “And you had something to drink? I see Steve got you a soda earlier? That was nice, you don’t have soda very often.”
Peter just nodded, tugging at Tony’s watch. Tony turned his wrist and unbuckled the device, dropping it in Peter’s hands, however Peter held it in his fist and immediately started fidgeting with one of his father’s cufflinks.
Ah.
Peter only gets clingy when he’s not feeling good.
Tony used his free hand to cup his son’s forehead.
“You’re a little warm there, buddy,” Tony said, a sympathetic smile on his face. “You feeling alright?”
“Uh-huh,” Peter mumbled, twisting his father’s cuff link around in his shirt.
“I think I might get you a drink, huh? You want some juice?” Tony suggested.
Peter’s fingers froze on his father’s shirt cuff as he decided whether or not he wanted his dad to go, even for a few minutes.
But some juice sounded nice.
He gave a small nod, not letting go of this dad’s wrist until the very last moment.
Tony knew to hurry.
In the kitchen, he found Pepper and Natasha leaning against the countertop, sipping glasses of wine.
“Hey Tony, how’s Peter doing? He was great tonight,” Pepper greeted.
Natasha smiled, “The perfect little gentleman,” she agreed.
Tony pulled a gallon of apple juice from the fridge, before moving to the glass cabinet, “Well our perfect little gentleman is running a fever,” he said, pouring a generous helping of juice into the glass.
Both women frowned in concern, “Is he alright?” Natasha asked, leaning forward to glance at the kid through the doorway.
“He’s fine,” Tony insisted, “I don’t think he even realized himself that he wasn’t feeling good.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Pepper asked, plucking a straw from the box on the countertop and sticking it into the glass, because she’s had plenty experience dealing with a sick Peter.
“I think we’re okay, he’s a bit clingy right now, so I’ll keep him with me for a bit, I know he won’t go to bed just yet,” Tony said, grabbing a sleeve of crackers from the cabinet, “I’ll let you know if we need anything.”
He then grabbed his glass and stuffed the crackers into his jacket pocket before making his way back out to the event room.
Peter looked up at his dad approaching and visibly relaxed. Tony smiled at the boy, handing over the glass and smoothing down his unruly curls. “You alright, bubba?” he asked, and Peter just nodded into his glass.
“Wanna come over and sit with me Uncle Bruce?”
Peter looked up hopefully at his dad, before nodding earnestly.
“Let’s go then, kiddo,” he said, taking the glass and nodding towards where Bruce was sat with Clint.
Peter pulled himself up and followed his dad closely across the room, fingers brushing the back of his jacket.
Tony placed the glass on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa beside Bruce, Peter perching himself on the arm of the chair quietly before Tony pulled him into his lap, kissing his hair as he buried his head in his chest.
Tony knew that Peter appreciated the affection. At official events that came with reporters and paparazzi and officials to impress, Peter had to put all his effort into being polite, having his clothes neat and not drawing attention to himself. He was often seen helping Pepper and Natasha out of cars, smiling kindly for photos and staying out of people’s way. Which Tony hated that he knew to do that.
But at this point in the night, there was no one that they needed to impress and if Peter wasn’t feeling good he deserve a damn cuddle.
Tony and Bruce chatted away as Peter played with his father’s watch. Bruce asked him how school was going and Tony was proud of how he still put effort into being polite and answering him, but Bruce gave Tony a knowing look before directing the conversation back to him, letting Peter lie back against his father’s chest once more.
After a while Tony fished the crackers from his pocket and handed them to Peter wordlessly, smiling as he ate two and then wrapped them up carefully.
Peter continued to fiddle with his father’s watch until eventually his hands stilled and Bruce gave Tony a smile. Tony raised his eyebrows in question. Bruce, voice low, whispered “We’re losing him.”
Tony adjusted Peter so he could lie back against his shoulder and sure enough his eyes were drooping.
“I think it’s time we went to bed, huh bubba?” Tony whispered. Peter just nodded, burying his face in his father’s neck.
“Alright, lets go then,” Tony mumbled comfortingly, rubbing his kid’s back before standing up with a groan, Peter giggling sleepily.
Tony made his way towards the elevator but was stopped by Pepper, “You’re going to bed, sweetie?”
Peter nodded sleepily.
“That sounds like a good idea, I think,” she mused. “You did so great tonight, sweetie, you were so helpful. We’re so proud of you,” she said warmly, cupping her hand over his forehead, tutting at the slight fever.
Peter smiled sheepishly into his father’s shoulder. Tony rubbed his back. “He’s the best, isn’t he, Pep?”
Pepper nodded. “The very best, get some sleep, sweetie. I think we’ll go to the park tomorrow, how does that sound?”
Peter nodded again, reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes.
Tony gave Pepper a smile, “I think that sounds good, but only if we get a good nights sleep first.”
At this, Peter buried his face into his father’s neck.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tony said, “thanks for everything,” and with that he stepped into the elevator.
Once in his son’s room, Tony set the kid on the bed and started untying his shoes. “You had a good time tonight, bubba?” Tony asked.
Peter yawned as he started to tug his tie off. “Uh-huh, Pepper didn’t make me eat the fancy food like Happy does.”
Tony chuckled at that, “At least she lets you off, I still have to eat it.”
Peter giggled as Tony pulled his pajamas over his head. He couldn’t ignore the low fever as his hand brushed his cheek, “How about you take some Tylenol for me?”
Peter nodded, crawling up towards the top of his bed and climbing underneath the covers.
Once the kid was medicated and had a drink, Tony moved to turn off the light, “A-Are you going back downstairs?” came a small voice.
Well now he certainly isn’t.
“No, bubba, I thought I might stay here with you, if that sounds good?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer.
Peter nodded happily, scooting over in the bed for his father to lie down beside him.
“Goodnight, Pete,” he said as he settled into the bed, Peter curled up against his chest.
“Night, Dad,” the child mumbled, fingers curling in the strap of his father’s watch.