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Tony had a knack for knowing when something was wrong. An ingrained intuition from the copious amounts of people he had met in his lifetime had led to some pretty nifty bullshit detecting skills. The genius paid attention far more than he was given credit for, particularly when it came to the few people he held closest and dearest. Peter was adamant that if he were a Sim he would have the perceptive and observant trait, albeit his chance of learning something new from a socialisation being higher than the thirty-five percent the game offered. The duo had settled for a solid seventy percent.
So, when the very intern who praised his observational skills barely uttered more than a greeting upon sheepishly entering the lab, Tony knew something was up. Peter who was usually all beaming, charismatic grins and energetic pacing on the floor—or ceiling— had been sat in the same spot for almost an hour or so, features so tense it looked unnatural. Initially, the older man had made subtle changes to the environment they were in, lowering the music a notch and dimming the lights ever so slightly in an effort to decipher the discomfort the kid was apparently unwilling to discuss. All had proven unsuccessful.
“You okay, buddy?” Tony questioned softly, when he noticed the teen wince and wriggle from his seated position. The deciphering had been going on all morning so all that had been left was tackling the issue head on. Rather than answering, Peter put the pen down that he’d been aimlessly playing with and cupped his face in his hands, breathing harsher than usual.
“My Spider Sense has just been really acting up all day,” he hesitantly replied as he heard his mentor’s steps draw closer. “It’s been getting more uncomfortable as the day progressed.”
A cool hand tentatively cupped his neck before manoeuvring to the left shoulder and offering a comforting squeeze. Peter instantly wished the soothing touch to his skin lasted longer than the few seconds it had, an involuntary whine escaping his lips as he fought to not cry there and then at how glorious it had been.
Alarm bells were ringing in his mentor’s head instantaneously. An admission of discomfort was rare and not something to be taken lightly when coming from someone who could easily make jokes about being stabbed or hit by a truck. That in addition to a sound that resembled a small baby animal in distress had Tony’s mind in overdrive.
“You’re feeling a little peaky. Why don’t we call it a day for lab time and go up to the penthouse?” Tony offered, mentally chastising the potential for Parker luck to strike at this very moment. The kid’s aunt was away for a week with training and Pepper was abroad for international meetings. Not that he didn’t want to look after Peter, the mechanic just immediately felt awkward and three thousand percent out of his league at the prospect. There was a small sigh of relief when Peter finally meandered off his chair, the duo slowly making their way towards the elevator. The older man’s hand remained on the kid’s shoulder, thumb occasionally rubbing the teen’s neck as he seemed to be enjoying the movement.
“You take a seat on the couch, I’ll fix us up some snacks,” Tony directed as he watched Peter totter across the room before sluggishly flopping onto the sofa, one arm immediately resting over his eyes whilst the other lay across his chest and holding his left side. There had barely been a hum of acknowledgement.
Peter felt absolutely, fudging dreadful. His stomach growled in hunger as a reminder that he’d waited far too long to eat but his appetite was completely shot. Almost like his mind had dissociated from the basic needs it required. All he could concentrate on was not succumbing to the pain in his flank which at this rate had gone from dull ache to a thousand knives piercing him over and over.
Not wanting to eat and feeling like the worst human possible for not telling his mentor to stop the food preparation, Peter opted for feigning to be asleep. A difficult task in itself considering the spikes of pins and needles he’d been feeling. Amidst the all-over-body irritation was a very prominent, localised pain to his left side. The teen had put it down to a pulled muscle as he had been patrolling a lot more vigorously than usual with the school break now in full swing. Nice one, Parker.
The self diagnosis Peter provided himself meant that he’d been reluctant to mention anything to Tony prior, not wanting to be a burden over something that should have been trivial. His mentor did always seem to be dealing with more than enough on his plate anyway. With a small shiver at the feeling of bugs crawling across his skin, Peter began to second guess not providing Mr. Stark with all the details of his symptoms. After what seemed like a moment’s hesitation, a soft material was being draped over him.
Tony had clearly fallen for the fake sleeping act. Or was just too polite to call him out on it . Allowing Peter the whole sofa, he slid an armchair across so he was within close proximity to the kid and pulled out a Stark Tablet ensuring the brightness was low. The genius had used the settings on the tablet to dim the room and ensure no one disturbed them.
The teen could hear the tablets gentle thrum, the sound of Tony’s fingers delicately touching the pad and his steady, calming heartbeat. His breathing was soft and gentle, a steady tempo that Peter found himself trying to follow. He eventually yielded to drowsiness and found himself slowly falling into darkness, hoping he’d feel better after a nap.
Peter’s wake up had been particularly violent. The teen shot up after feeling an excruciating sting in his side, skin feeling like he was literally on fire. He’d swiftly fallen backwards into the cushions, mind still catching up with the body, leaving him with a sense of disorientation and overwhelmingly lightheaded. Tony was at his side within seconds, clearly just returning from the bathroom, a flare of panic in his eyes.
“You feeling okay, bud?” He said, racing over and helping the teen disentangle his legs from the blanket.
“A little,” Peter lied badly, unsure why he’d even bothered trying. Even his greatest attempts at white lies couldn’t get past his mentor. He’d grown to know the kid and his antics exceptionally well.
“You wanna try that again with less understatements?”
“Headache,” Peter started, pausing for just a moment. Tony had lingered just to see if anymore was going to come before standing up, with the intention of heading to the kitchen. He’d barely lifted his leg to take the first step when...
“Spidey Sense still tingling… Not hungry… Hot.”
“The day you’re not hungry is the day the whole country falls apart,” Tony frowned as he headed to the kitchen and ran the tap. A full glass of water and wrung out flannel later he was back at Peter’s side and very carefully helping him to sit up, the sway and unease in the teen’s movements evident.
The thought of water had Peter feeling nauseous but he knew this wasn’t something his mentor was going to back down on. He held the glass in his hands, leaving it on his lap for a moment and enjoying the cold temperature on his fingertips. The older man carefully placed the flannel on his neck and boy, was it heavenly. A final moment of discomfort dissipated and the relief was overwhelming.
“Peter?” Tony asked, tone full of a parental tone that Peter had only thought he’d ever hear from his Aunt. The flannel was off of his neck and wiping away the sweat from his face, a thumb underneath the cloth carefully gliding under his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” burst out of his lips before he could stop it when he registered the way his face had crumpled, just about holding in the tears. “I don’t want to be sick.”
"Come here, kid," his mentor offered soothingly and quietly, knowing that when Peter was this burnt out, a sensory overload could creep in and take over at any minute. And that was the last thing he needed added to the mix of symptoms. Tony placed the flannel down and took the glass from tremoring hands before opening his arms.
Peter complied, leaning into Tony, his face buried into the older man’s shoulder as one of his hands clutched tightly onto the rock band themed t-shirt. His body let out a long, shuddering breath no longer able to keep it in through fear his lungs would burst. It was a bittersweet mixture of relief and excruciating stabbing in his side again.
"I’ve got you, buddy. Nice slow, breaths for me. I’ve got you." Tony’s arms were wrapped around him tightly now, a strong grip that left him feeling protected and grounded. One hand found its way in the teen’s hair and started to massage the scalp, occasionally lifting the curls and allowing them to ping back.
“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” the teen mumbled, face not wanting to leave from its smushed position in the older man’s t-shirt.
Acting on an instinct he had been aggressively repressing, Tony simply tilted his head down and pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair in response. All those years of being so abundantly sure he’d never had kids were well and truly buried in the past. It wasn’t necessarily that he’d disliked children or wanted to be tied down to a miniature version of himself, fragile and requiring a dependant who could at least look after themselves which wasn’t one of his strongest traits. But he also had a terrible fear of failing. Of being like Howard.
Whilst he knew he didn’t have it in himself to be so ruthless and cruel, it troubled him to no end. And even when Peter Parker had come along and wormed his way into his life in all the best kinds of ways. It had taken time to acknowledge the level of care he’d had. This young, endearing, little shit had Tony wanting to give him his all. Hell, the more weekends they’d spent together the more sure he was that Peter would in fact be his legacy. A part of his small circle of friends who he trusted like family and would fiercely protect at all costs. And despite the pair not seeming to be aware of how close their bond was, a majority of their nearest and dearest could spot it from a mile away whilst being blindfolded.
“You wanna tell me when you started feeling this funk? Do I need to speak with Helen?” Tony questioned when Peter pulled away.
“I pulled a muscle on my left side a few days ago and kinda felt off since then. The tingling has been the same, but like initially it was on and off. Sometimes it was on par with that time Vulture dropped a warehouse on me and the next, like that time I entered the building on fire to save Tiddles the tortoise. Or that time I got road rash after being dragged by a van down fifth street. Or that time Tiddles took a chunk out of my finger.”
“Alright. I’m going to be honest. That's a lot to unpack, kid,” Tony remarked when he’d managed to metaphorically pick his jaw off the ground.
“Few days of stuff. Sometimes aches, sometimes sharp shooty pains,” Peter clarified as he rubbed his nose.
“When you’re feeling better we’ll be having a chat. Particularly about this apparent arch nemesis, Tiddles .”
“Tiddles is totally my villain origin story.”
“On the subject of villains , wanna carry on watching The Big Hero 6 series? Globby has me on the edge of my seat on what he’s going to get up to next.”
“Sounds like a plan, Iron Man.”
On cue, F.R.I.D.A.Y. dimmed the lights as the TV turned on and the surround sound immediately kicked in. As the opening theme popped up on the screen, Tony was on his feet and skipping towards the kitchen to retrieve the snacks he’d prepared beforehand. He shoved a bowl into Peter’s hands, a smirk tugging at his lips when the teen immediately took a handful of popcorn and shovelled it into his mouth. The older man took a seat next to Peter, digging into a bowl of chips with a side of dip.
As the afternoon slowly turned into evening, Peter had slowly scooted towards his mentor until Tony got the hint and had shifted his arm to the back of the sofa so the teen’s head could rest on his chest. Eventually the hand that had previously been gripping the back of the couch would find its way wrapped around the boy’s shoulders and then eventually providing tender ministrations across the scalp.
The aches and protests Peter’s body had been firing off seemed to be that much easier to ignore as they cuddled. Not only was the calm heartbeat and steady breathing back to lull the teen to sleep, but he could also feel the gently hearty chuckles of Tony as well as his warmth. Like a heated blanket set to the perfect temperature. Peter succumbed to darkness with the faintest of smile across his face that the man who hated being emotionally vulnerable and often recoiled from physical contact had made an exception for him. And how freaking lucky and privileged was that?
Although Peter was feeling completely shattered, sleep did not arrive once he’d gone to bed. He’d managed to nap again on the sofa which had prompted his mentor to call it a night. The teen’s bleary eyes checked the time from his bedside clock—04:03—he let out a defeated groan. He’d certainly been drowsy, but felt like he’d been on the edge of drifting to sleep and then immediately stirring.
The usual comfort and feeling of safety of Tony’s MIT hoodie was instantly tarnished as his skin prickled with fire at the fabric being placed over it. Peter audibly gulped before creeping out of the room and heading to the lab, wanting to be in his mentor’s presence or at least find some sort of distraction.
As the doors made a gentle swooshing noise upon opening, he felt his mentor's gaze fall upon him. Peter spotted the squint of Tony's eyes as he started to study him. He definitely could tell the teen looked as shit as he felt no doubt. Bags under his glassy eyes at the level of exhaustion he was feeling and cheeks still flushed even though the ambient temperature.
“Stop analysing me please, Mr. Stark,” Peter grumbled, wishing the world would just swallow him up already.
"I can't tell if you're up early or late." Tony stated as he dropped the tools he was working on and hastily made his way towards Peter's side. The boy’s body language was screaming undeniable discomfort as he clearly started to struggle to even move.
"I tried to sleep, I really did." Peter answered more exasperated that he had meant to. He'd seen right through his mentor's statement, knowing he'd wanted to ask if he’d actually got any sleep. “I was so... uncomfortable,” the last word almost came out as a choke, breath hitching. “Everything… hurts.”
“Come here, buddy,” Tony gently coaxed as he went to embrace the young hero. One of his arms had barely made its way around Peter’s back when he’d recoiled back involuntarily at the burning sting the touch had caused. Tony took a horrified step back, arms awkwardly falling back to place at his sides. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to-”
“Oh God. Oh G- I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” he gasped as his face crumpled and a frown replaced the forced neutral ‘ I’ve got this’ look.
“Peter…” Tony started, but stopped as the words barrelled out of his mentee, emotions all over the place.
“Something’s wrong with me. I don’t know why… Everything hurts… And now. Now…”
“Take a breath, kiddo. Nice and easy,” Tony instructed as he took a single step towards the teen. “Let’s get you somewhere comfy and then we’ll get you checked over, okay?”
Peter managed a weak nod, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of the hoodie and followed, trudging slowly as a bone-deep exhaustion dictated his every step. The teen didn’t recall the trip in the elevator nor getting to the sofa. Almost as if it had been a blip in time, not even a blurred feeling or sensation, just missing.
“You’re making me a little nervous, Underoos.” Tony’s voice cut through the mental fog. The tone hadn’t been condescending in any manner. Just an honest admission, hoping to catch the boy’s attention.
“It’s got worse. So much worse.”
“Fri, temperature?”
“38.7. This is up from 37.8 yesterday,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. notified, the duo both cringing at the change.
“Alright, I’m pulling rank, we need to get you checked over,” Tony decided, not wanting to take any chances with worsening symptoms. Particularly when fever was now added into the mix and his Spiderling had next to know thermoregulation.
“Wait… Wait. Could we try super soldier strength Tylenol?” Peter pleaded, giving his best puppy dog look. At this rate he was happy to put on the Peter-Pity-Party-Parker charm if it meant avoiding the dreaded medbay.
“I catch even a whiff of you getting any worse and we’ll be in the medbay quicker than you can say super soldier strength, again. Oh, and you’re having some food,” Tony conceded reluctantly as he left the kid’s side to grab the medication.
“Take these,” he requested handing over the pills once they’d been procured. “I’m going to make some toast.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled. He briefly allowed his eyes to close as he listened to his mentor potter around the kitchen, cupboards being opened and utensils being sought. The noises reminded him of the domesticity of home life with May as she’d scramble to prepare last minute lunchbox snacks for the pair of them.
His mentor returned a few minutes later with two toasted peanut butter and jam sandwiches in hand, Peter’s eyes slowly opening as he took the plate. After the first bite he let out a hum of satisfaction. Everything about it was perfect; the way the toasted bread crunched when he took a bite, the warm peanut butter coating his mouth, the tangy sweet from the strawberry jam.
By mid-morning, Peter had drifted off to sleep and Tony once again found himself watching over him. The teen’s vitals were up in the top right of his tablet, scrutinizing eyes narrowing when it had slowly started to creep back up. The agitation to touch had shortly followed as Peter would suddenly jerk and grunt.
Tentatively, Tony lightly brushed the damp curls sticking to his mentee's forehead away so he could lay a damp cloth across it. The teen let out a whimper the moment it touched, body shivering violently at its exaggerated interpretation of the coolness. The lengths Tony would do to take away the pain and discomfort for his kid couldn’t even be put into words.
They were back up to 38.7 by lunchtime. Not that Tony had seen. The tablet in his hand was precariously dangling from one hand the other still buried in Peter’s hair. Exhaustion had well and truly settled in and he’d drifted off despite all the coffee he had consumed.
An ear piercing screech and wild arm being thrown into his face woke Tony from his nap. He practically fell off the sofa as his mind tried to process what the fuck was happening. Animalistic cries, screams for help and an arm hitting him again from his position on the ground was enough to spring the words emergency into his mind.
“Fri! Call every doctor right now!” Tony said harshly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds from the request when orange flecks appeared in the room and then a portal was opened by Stephen Strange.
“List of symptoms?” was all he said, saving the greeting for later when he saw the deathly pallor of Peter’s skin and the twitchiness of Tony meaning a panic attack was likely right around the corner.
“Skin has been tingling yesterday and today but isn’t his Spider Senses. Fever, loss of appetite, sensitive to the lightest touches and a pain to his left side. Mixture of aches that range from being bitten by a tortoise to being hit by a truck,” Tony was rubbing his eyes profusely, desperately wanting the sleep to remove itself from his weary features. The doctor had perked a brow at the last sentence but quickly decided what he wanted to do next.
“Peter, I’m going to lift your shirt,” he informed, not meaning to ignore Tony but just needing to get straight to work with the triage. “Actually, could you lift it Tony? I don’t want… my hands to make this any worse than it’s going to be if he’s touch sensitive.”
Tony was quick to comply, hating the few seconds it had taken as Peter’s face scrunched into an anguished grimace at the feeling and his whimpering turned into ragged sobs. The raised, blotchy red rash across his side was clear as day. It looked like a nerve branching across his chest, angry looking blisters scattered throughout it’s hostile takeover of his pale, clammy skin. Dashing footsteps from the hall alerted the trio that more medical personnel had arrived in the form of Bruce Banner and Helen Cho.
“I think it’s shingles. We’re going to need a gurney,” Stephen called out briskly, not wanting to waste any time. A rash meant it was potentially already a few days into the virus taking hold so precious time had been wasted for optimum effectiveness of the antivirals. The doctors skidded to a halt, well aware a gurney would be just seconds behind them courtesy of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s assistance. “Fever, malaise, hyperesthesia, vesicular rash spreading from left flank.”
If Tony thought it had been unbearable watching Peter be transported onto the gurney and swiftly taken to the medbay. Then it had been an absolute living nightmare to see him be poked and prodded, IV needing to be in place to provide the fluids his body needed and the administration of pain medication that would help dull down his senses and hopefully allow him to rest. Bruce had tried to keep him at arms length to give the medical personnel the space they needed but that had lasted mere seconds.
Peter's body was stiff and twitching involuntarily, his back arched awkwardly as he writhed in brutal agony. The teen's face was contorted in pain, eyes slammed shut and mouth slightly open as he took gasping breaths laced with cries and incoherent mutterings of pleads for help. Hot, uncontrollable tears streamed down the side of his face and God did Tony want to wipe them away but he knew even the faintest of touches had felt like chemical burns to the kid.
The morphine was due to take effect at any moment, but until then Tony felt like a useless entity within the room. Peter's hands gripped onto the sheets and tore them instantly. There was a risk that the IV was going to be yanked out if the flailing didn’t stop.
"Dad… Dad…" Peter bawled, no longer capable of riding out the searing pain in solitude. Tony short circuited. The room froze. "Dad!" the teen again screamed when there had been no response despite the multiple blurred forms within the room seeming to hear him.
Fuck this. Tony had pushed past Bruce, not enough to harm him in any way, just enough to give him the space to get to his kid’s side. One hand was placed on the mattress of the bed and the other eagerly wanting to stroke the boy’s head but sitting next to the pillow instead.
“I’m here, kiddo. I’m here,” he assured as best as he could, voice on the edge of breaking.
In a move apparently out of his control, Peter’s hand lashed out and grabbed his mentor’s wrist. Quickly, the pads of his fingers dup deep into the flesh, unable to control his enhanced abilities whilst so delirious. The first crunch of bone had Tony biting down on his lip, desperately attempting to remain stoic for Peter’s sake. But then the bones grinded and he let out a pained gasp.
“Peter,” He managed as he deeply inhaled in an effort to sound as self-controlled as possible. The tight clasp started to loosen, as the teen’s movements slowed and his eyes looked almost vacant before they closed. Tony had taken a staggering step back once it had been clear, unsure if it was motivated by the searing pain of his now broken wrist or because there was the pressure of someone’s hand on his shoulder leading him away. He’d barely made it to the hallway still unsure who he was following when his knees buckled and the world around him became a bleak blur.
In his catatonic state, Tony wouldn’t remember the scans and treatment of the newly broken bone. His exhausted body would simply shut down and he’d fall asleep, itching to fend off the feelings of panic stricken shock and complete, unrivalled fear. When he did rouse, Bruce and Stephen had been there to let him know how his mentee was before informing him of the damage that had been inflicted. A broken wrist was nothing when he found out Peter was now on enough medication to allow a pain-free rest.
The first conscious memory Peter had in the fog of his slow awakening was the dry taste in his mouth and beginnings of nausea creeping up on him. Despite his body protesting he attempted a small movement, wincing as he did so. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton as he slowly lifted his arm to rub his eyes before attempting to open them. When his sense of smell returned and the stench of harsh disinfectant and latex burned his nostrils hit, his eyes opened far too quickly and far too widely.
The teen’s attention was quickly drawn to the presence to his left. Tony was slumped in a chair at such an incredibly awkward angle it was sure to cause neck ache when he woke up. A cast-clad wrist was loosely folded across his chest as the other arm seemed to loosely cradle it. Gentle snoring would usually be comforting for Peter, but his eyes kept drawing back to the cast with a dreaded sensation in the pit of his stomach that he had been the one to cause of it.
Peter moved again, hissing at how incredibly touch sensitive he seemed to be. It was as if he could feel every individual fibre of the bedding around him. Despite the noise being barely audible, Tony started to awaken. The older man had gone to move too sharply, clearly moving his sore arm too quickly and boy could Peter not take his eyes off of that cast.
“There’s my favourite young adult,” Tony greeted gently as he awkwardly shifted to pour a small jug of water into a cup, the casted hand barely keeping it in place. He did his utmost best to remain passive faced despite how tedious the task now felt to him and he could feel Peter’s hard pressed stare on him and the arm. Plopping a straw into the cup he brought it to the teen’s mouth. Peter had wanted to gulp it down the moment he felt the plastic touch his lips, swigging greedily as the water soothed his parched throat and mouth.
“How are you feeling, Pete?” Tony asked once he’d finished, placing the cup to the side. Lordy, did his kid look so small in the hospital bed.
“A little high,” Peter confessed after assessing himself and spotting the cannula in his hand. “A little sore… Mr. Stark…?”
“If you need any more painkillers than just let me know and I can get Cho. They’ve got you on the good stuff,” Tony was completely aware that sore was likely overriding the high feeling. Because he’d seen Peter high on pain medication before. It tended to involve a big goofy smile and eyes bug-eyed wide. There’d even been the occasional moments where he thought he could fly and would flap his wings whilst making whooshing sound effects.
“What happened?” Peter asked so innocently and child like, a reminder of the young hero’s age. Tony had to steel himself for the inevitable conversation that was about to go down. Because he knew what the kid was like. Knows that the kid can’t stop taking his eyes off the cast.
“You got a one way rare ticket to getting shingles. Not common for your age bracket and Spideyness but. We know what you’re like when it comes to contracting the weird and wonderfu-”
“I meant... what happened to your arm?” Tony looked down at it before meeting the teen’s eyes.
"Alright, so don't freak out on me. You did nothing wrong…" The older man began, quickly being interrupted by an even paler looking Peter.
"Oh God…"
"Ah-ah. Listen to me, Peter." Tony requested firmly, as he placed a hand over Peter’s and carefully gripped. He needed to show there was still respect and most importantly trust. Needed the boy to be grounded and to focus if this wasn’t about to turn into an emotional shit show. "Please."
There were tears welling in Peter’s eyes that he had no chance of fighting. Lacking the confidence in his own voice to not crack he simply nodded.
"You were off your face, quite literally, with a fever whilst a virus attacked your nerves. You were not in control. And it was an accident." His mentor’s voice was tender, sympathetic with just a touch of authority. His eyes were full of love and conviction that stunned Peter momentarily whilst he absorbed the information.
"I'm so sorry, Tony,” the teen rasped, barely holding himself together. The kindness he was being shown felt unwarranted and undeserving.
“I need you to listen to me very carefully, buddy. I know exactly how you’re feeling. I know you’re playing the blame game right now because I’ve been there. I-I-Pepper was almost attacked by a suit because of my actions whilst I was asleep. It’s undeniable logic that I wasn’t even conscious so how was it my fault? But I let it eat away at me and she had to snap me out of that deep guilt-trip-well big time. I know you, Peter. I know you’d never hurt me. And nothing could hurt more than seeing you in pain and being utterly helpless to make it better.”
The stiffness in Peter’s hand finally released and his hand gently took hold of Tony’s thumb. The teen shifted into a seated position, his mentor standing as he did so before leaning over the bed and offering a hug. Peter accepted the embrace, the determination in the movement and lack of flinching from the older man serving only to affirm that he didn’t fear the boy.
“Alright, move over, Young Buck. Your old man can’t stay bent like this for too long.”
With his mentee shifted out of the way, Tony scooted onto the bed and raised an arm immediately. Peter showed just a hint of hesitance before snuggling in, an arm placed across Tony’s lap and his head on his chest.
“I don’t know what to say,” Peter admitted, the latter of the sentence slightly slurring as he started to drift off in the safety of his mentor’s arms.
“Get some rest, Peter. I’m sure you’ll make up for the lack of talking once we get back in the lab,” Tony mumbled before a thought crossed his mind. “In fact, you get to fill me in all about Tiddles once you’re up and ready. That tortoise is on thin fucking ice.”
The teen half smirked at the comment, though no words formulated as sleep took a hold. Deep breaths soon turned into soft snoring. The older man’s fingers slowed their movements before coming to a halt as he planted a tender kiss into the teen’s hair. As he started to feel himself succumb to exhaustion he requested that they only be disturbed if it was a mandatory check up or emergency.
“Love you, dad,” Peter whispered so softly it was barely audible. Even in his exhausted state, Tony’s chest filled with overwhelming joy and happiness.
“Love you too, buddy,” Tony replied with a content, sleepy smile on his face.