Oh! Okay so I’m super sick so can you please write some sick!Peter with Overprotective and Worried Dad!Tony please? Thank you so much 💖
So this was adorable to read and write, I need more Irondad asks
Tony drops the wrench on the table in utter exasperation. “Oh my gods, Parker, will you just-”
“I’b nod sigk!” Peter yells back stubbornly.
“Not sick my entire ass, I can’t even understand you! This is the eighth time you’ve sneezed and yes I’m keeping track, will you just–just–just sit down for a damn minute, you look like you’re about to fall over-”
Peter sniffles and backs up fast from Tony’s hands, reaching out to steady him. “S’just a little code, s’nod a big deal–aaachoo!”
“Yech, that’s disgusting,” Tony comments with a grimace. “Get a tissue or something, sheesh.”
Peter glares at him with redrimmed eyes, but begrudgingly slopes off to grab a tissue. Tony doesn’t miss the way his hands shake, or his total lack of coordination–he misses the tissue box three times before he’s able to grab a tissue and tug it out of the box.
Tony takes the opportunity to grab one of the fluffy wool blankets from the neat stack in the corner, next to a couple pillows–after watching Peter pass out in the lab slumped over a worktable he and Pepper brought some stuff downstairs to at least make it a bit more comfortable. (Plus, Tony also had a tendency to work himself to exhaustion, so it was nice to wake up without a killer pain in his neck for once.)
Peter’s back is turned while he clumsily blows his nose, so he doesn’t see his mentor sneaking up behind him with the blanket in his hands.
Suddenly, Tony springs forward and swiftly wraps the blanket around Peter, then scoops him up all in one fluid motion. Peter yelps and tries to flail, but the blanket is so securely wrapped around him that all he manages is a wriggle.
Tony hums, tucking in all the little corners and edges and adjusting Peter so he’s comfortably in Tony’s arms. Then he turns smartly and strides toward the staircase leading out of the lab, Peter protesting and sneezing all the way.
“You still pouting?” Tony smirks as he stirs honey into the tea.
“I wanded to fiddish the web shooter upgrades today, rebember?” Peter grouses from the couch. “I’b nod thad sigk, I could probably still-”
He cuts himself off with a ferocious bout of coughing, so deep and painful-sounding that Tony winces in sympathy, even as he adopts a stern tone.
“You are obviously too sick to continue today, if that cough was anything to go by. Careful not to hack up a lung, by the way, you’re gonna need both of those.”
Peter huffs but focuses his on breathing until it goes back to normal.
Tony takes the mug and steps out to the couch, passing the tea over the back to Peter, who reluctantly worms a hand out of the blankets to take it. “Honey, ginger, and lemon. Drink it all or I’ll set Pepper and May on you.”
“Cheater,” Peter grumbles into the mug, but he drinks it all, Tony watching him like a hawk. He takes the mug once the kid is done, then vaults over the back of the couch and plops down next to him, stifling a laugh at the mass of blankets surrounding a grumpy, pale face in the middle. He softens a little at the sad look on Peter’s face.
“C’mon, don’t be like that. I’ll call May and have you stay over until you’re better, okay? We’ll work on the web shooters then,” Tony soothes, reaching out to guide Peter’s feverish head onto his shoulder. He grins as Peter adjusts to lean entirely against him, sighing as he does so.
There’s a moment of quiet, Peter blinking lazily as Tony smooths a gentle hand through his curly hair, untangling snags as he goes.
“Pete,” Tony begins, not entirely sure how to word what he has to say. “You’ve seen me get sick before, right?”
Peter shifts and blinks blearily up at him. “Uh huh. S’not good.”
“Not good, huh?” Tony responds, scratching at a particular spot on Peter’s scalp. “So is it good when you get sick, then?”
Peter starts to respond, but then his eyes widen as if he just thought of something important. Next minute, he’s pulling away from Tony, turning his face away from him.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Tony says, a bit panicked at the horrified look on his kid’s face. “Hold up, where you going? Pete?”
“Gonna get you sick,” Peter gasps. “Don’t wanna…get you sick.”
Tony’s heart flutters, but he keeps a firm grasp on the back of Peter’s neck. “No, Pete. It’s fine, it’s okay. I hardly ever get sick anymore. Hey, Pete, listen–listen to me, it’s fine. You’re not gonna get me sick, geez.”
Peter slowly stops struggling as Tony coaxes him back. “That’s it, take it easy. I know being sick sucks actual, literal donkey balls, kiddo.” (This gets a tired snicker from Peter.) “Take it slow. Deep breaths.”
Peter still looks uncertain, but he shifts so he’s leaning against Tony again.
“Geez, hon,” Tony exhales. “You need rest, not all of…this nonsense–” and he waves an expansive hand at nothing to indicate all the shenanigans up until this point.
Peter closes his eyes. “Head hurts.”
“Your sinuses sound better,” Tony comments, turning sideways so Peter’s head is on his chest, not his shoulder. The trick with Peter is to take it slow, distract him with wordplay and banter. If Tony went too fast, he’d meet resistance. Peter’s natural inclination is to go at top speed, not to take breaks, no matter how sorely he needs them.
“Definitely not as congested as earlier,” he says, letting Peter reorient himself.
“S’the tea,” Peter mumbles. “Helped. The tea helped.”
“Yeah?” Tony says, leaning back against the cushions and bringing Peter with him. “Good.” Peter’s eyes flicker with the effort of staying open.
On a whim, Tony tilts his head and presses a kiss to Peter’s eyelid, causing his eyes to flutter closed. A tiny, sleepy smile scrolls across his kid’s face, followed by a little sigh, followed by…
a snore. Thank god, he’s asleep.
Tony waits a few minutes before tentatively shifting, in minute increments, until he’s horizontal with Peter resting on his chest and stomach.
What is happening to me? Since when have I called anyone other than Pepper “hon?” Since when do I use blanket sneak attacks to get someone who’s sick to take a break. Since when do I…
Of course, he knew the answer. Since he met Peter. Since Peter began to be equated with that warm swell of paternal affection in his chest. Since Peter became his kid.
Tony kisses the top of Peter’s head, relaxing.
You’re making me soft, kiddo, and I don’t even mind.
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