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“Oh, kid. I’m really so so sorry.” Tony says for maybe the tenth time that night. The mechanic is sitting on the floor of Peter’s bathroom at the compound while the youngest Avenger expels his stomach contents, again. It was nearing 1 a.m. and the poor kid had been feeling a bit ill since 8. At first, he didn’t think it was anything to worry about, so Peter just opted to call it a night earlier than usual and hoped that sleep would calm the queasiness in his stomach.
Wrong. He was very wrong.
After about a half an hour of uneasy sleep, the boy was pulled from his slumber as his stomach flipped uncomfortably. Knowing what was to come, Peter shakily left his bed, seated himself on his bathroom floor, and waited for the inevitable. The inevitable happened less than a minute later. After his first bout of puking Peter still felt uneasy, so instead of making the trek back to his nice warm bed he laid himself down on a plush bath mat and let himself doze and wait for the next round of retching.
“Mini-Boss, I’ve detected that your vitals are irregular and you seem to be suffering from a food induced illness. Would you like me to inform Mr. Stark?” FRIDAY’s voice came softly from above him. Of course it was food poisoning, and on the night that Peter picked the take-out too.
“I-Is anyone else sick?” Peter asks the AI, his voice raspy. He thinks back to dinner with Tony, Pepper and Rhodey. He doesn’t remember any of them eating the same meal as him but still, he had to make sure everyone else was alright.
“Negative, Peter. The rest of the towers inhabitant’s vitals are regular and within safe levels. Once again, would you like me to inform Mr. Stark?”
Peter sniffs, thinking on it. “Is he asleep, Fri?”
“No, he and Mrs. Stark are in the living area watching a film.”
With a sigh, Peter okays FRIDAY contacting Mr. Stark for him. He feels bad that he’s interrupting Tony’s time with his wife, but he knows that he is in no shape to take care of himself. Not when he could barely lift his head off the toilet seat to puke.
It’s not long before Peter hears the tell-tale sound of Tony nearly sprinting down the hall to Peter’s room. It’s a sound he’s fairly used to at this point.
“Petey? Bud, Fri says you’re not feeling too- oh my lord.” Tony stops, eyes wide when he finds Peter on the floor of the bathroom. Face ashen and eyes dull. Tony was ready to call for an ambulance when FRIDAY interjected.
“Sir, I believe Mr. Parker is experiencing symptoms of food poisoning, most likely from the gyro he ingested at dinner tonight.”
Tony coos sympathetically as he lowers himself to sit beside the boy on the bathroom floor. “Did you throw up, bubba?” The man’s hand automatically going to Peter’s hair, knowing it was an action that instantly calmed the boy. With a relieved sigh, the hair petting obviously already working, Peter nodded slightly. Tony nodded as well, taking note of the heat radiating off of the kid. “You think you’re gonna throw up again?”
“Dunno,” Peter mumbles. “‘m achey, ’n cold, tummy still feels gross.” On another given day, Peter would have been mortified to have said “tummy” in front of literally anyone, but now he just feels too awful to care.
“Okay, bug. You just rest, I’m gonna go get some stuff to help you out, alright?” Peter nods again and closes his eyes as Tony stands from his spot.
He quickly heads to the kitchen where he finds Pepper again. She’s obviously concerned, but more or less used to Peter being the cause of Tony hastily having to leave to run to the boy’s rescue. “Everything okay?” She inquires.
Tony opens with fridge with a sigh. “I mean, could be worse. It’s food poisoning, but the kid just seems downright miserable.” He grabs ginger ale and a water bottle before making his way to the pantry for saltine crackers.
“Oh no, poor thing.” Pepper says, biting her thumb nail as she thinks back to dinner.
“Don’t worry,” Tony assures her. “Fri said it was from his gyro, and we all had the salmon salad so…” He trails off, looking at the items he’s gathered but knowing he’s missing something.
“Heating pad is in our bathroom under the sink.” Pepper reminds him, knowing exactly what her husband is thinking. Tony in return smirks back at her, always amazed at just how much she knew. With a quick thank you and a kiss on the cheek, Tony grabs all of his supplies and brings them back to his kid. He drops the crackers, soda, water, and the heating pad off in the bathroom before going back into Peter’s bedroom and taking a blanket and pillow from his bed.
“Okay Peter Pan, let’s get you settled in. This is gonna be a long night.” Tony says, softly so to not aggravate the headache the kid probably has.
Peter groans in response, and Tony just shushes him lightly as he starts to maneuver the boy. Peter is almost completely pliant at this point, so Tony careful raises the spiderling’s head, much like you would an infants, and slips the pillow beneath it. He then plugs the heating pad into the wall and places it over Peter’s stomach, before lightly throwing the blanket over his curled up form. He debated tucking the blanket around the kid, but when the next round of puking comes along, Peter probably won’t have the energy to unravel himself from that. “How we doing now, bud?”
With his new setup on the bathroom floor, Peter feels much more comfortable, and it’s apparent in his eyes which are now relaxed rather than tensed. The boy hums. “S’okay, s’like a fort in the bathroom.” He slurs already feeling himself drift off again.
Tony smiles at his success. He wasn’t a bad caretaker, but was was never really his strong suit. He takes Peter’s contentedness with the makeshift pallet as the highest form of praise. “Think you wanna try some ginger ale to settle that tummy?”
If Peter heard Tony’s jab at him for saying tummy, he didn’t say anything. Most likely because just the mention of sustenance had Peter back over the toilet, gagging.
“Woah okay, never mind that then.” Tony quips as he kneels back beside Peter to keep the boy’s head up right. “That’s okay, bubba. Deep breaths. Fuck I- sorry kiddo, no more food talk from now on.” The older man cant help but cringe at the boy’s retches, a particularly hard one making the boy’s eyes water. After a little bit the gagging tapers off, and Peter spits the nasty taste from his mouth. Tony lowers the kid back down to his pillow and settles him back under the blanket before standing to grab a hand towel to wet in the sink. He dabs the sweat off of the boys brow and then cleans some of the mess on the side of Peter’s mouth and chin. “Oh, Petey I’m so sorry bud. You really feel miserable, huh?”
Peter just hums in response, finding his mentors hand and moving it to rest in his hair again. Tony cant help the small laugh that escapes at the motion. “Okay buddy, hand in the hair at all times. Noted.”
“Don’t leave Tony.” Peter murmurs half way back to dreamland.
“Wouldn’t even think of it Pete.”