Work Text:
The Art of Shaving
A light knock preceded Peter’s head poking around the corner into the doorway.
“Hey.”
Tony leaned back from the mirror to rinse his razor in the sink, flicking his eyes to his son in the reflection. “Hey yourself.”
Peter glanced back over his shoulder into the master bedroom. “Is Pepper here?”
Tony tilted his chin up, pulling the skin on his left cheek taut as he carefully shaved the edges of his goatee. “She went to get her nails done for tonight.” He murmured.
Peter nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets and loitering in the doorway. Tony shot him an amused glance as he went to rinse his razor again.
“Something on your mind?”
Peter shook his head. “No. Not really. Just…I dont know.” He shrugged, then muttered, “Lonely I guess.”
Tony frowned, setting down his razor and picking up a towel. He turned to face the boy fully. “I’m sorry, kiddo. Did you want us to stay home tonight?”
“No, no!” Peter put his hands out, as if physically stopping the thought from entering Tony’s mind. “I’m fine. It’s not a big deal, really. I just…” He shrugged and shook his head. “I’m going to patrol anyway, that’s what helps the most. So there’s no point in you guys staying home. Honest."
Tony narrowed his eyes, crossing the room to his adopted son, still fiddling with the towel in his hands.
"You sure?" He asked, carefully searching Peter's face for any indication he meant something other than what he was saying . "Because we wouldn’t mind. You'd be doing me a favor, in fact. I hate having to make small talk with a bunch of self important blowhards."
"Yeah, you like to be the only one of those in the room." Peter smirked.
"Brat," Tony snapped the towel at the kid's leg. Peter squeaked and escaped further into the bathroom. He perched on the edge of the freestanding tub, carefully avoiding knocking over Pepper's candle and empty wine glass from the night before.
Tony returned to the sink, lathering shaving cream over his upper lip with his bulb shaped brush.
Peter tilted his head. "Why do you shave your goatee in such an intricate design anyway?"
Tony's eyes flicked to his in the mirror, carefully shaping the edges of hair on his lip.
"I'm Tony Stark kid, can't have the same haircut as everyone else in the room." He paused to rinse his razor, "and when Gianni Versace says to wear your facial hair a certain way you don’t ask questions."
Peter's eyebrows shot up. "You have designer facial hair?"
Tony turned around to glance at Peter looking scandalized.
"Its like you haven’t even met me."
Peter rolled his eyes and Tony returned to his task. A few moments of comfortable silence passed and then Peter cleared his throat.
"Ben had a mustache."
Tony paused, razor halfway to the sink.
"Oh yeah?" He responded neutrally, trying to gauge Peter's mood.
The kid nodded, breaking into a small smile. "He tried growing a beard once but couldn’t get past the patchy faze."
Tony smiled. "Thats where you get it then." He gestured toward his own face and Peter's cheeks went slightly pink. He rubbed self consciously at his chin and cheeks, pads of his fingers catching on the scraggly hairs that had started popping up over the past few weeks.
"Yeah. I should probably do something about that. I guess." He looked at the floor, sounding a little shy.
Tony grabbed a face cloth and wet it with warm water, wiping the remnants of shaving creme off his face as he watched Peter dig the toe of his sock into the bathmat. Tony thought of offering to teach him to shave, but hesitated. It felt like overstepping.
This wasn't like showing the kid how to code his suit or solve a differential equation. This was 'how to tie a tie', 'how to throw a baseball', 'how to change a tire' stuff. Father and Son stuff.
Peter had only been living with him for a month, his uncle dead for just a year, what if the kid wasn't ready for that?
While Tony argued with himself, Peter muttered something too soft to hear.
“Hm?”
Peter sighed, clasping his hands and shoving them between his knees, but refusing to look up.
"I said, do you think you could show me?"
Tony's throat went tight, the buzzing in his head suddenly silent at the softly spoken request.
“Yeah," he cleared his throat when he could barely muster a whisper and continued, “of course.”
Peter's head snapped up, his eyes bounced between Tony's shaving items on the counter and the man's face a few times.
"Really?"
Tony smiled, soft and fond, holding his gaze in the reflection. "I'd love to, Pete."
Peter beamed and Tony gestured him over with a jerk of his head.
"Come on then, I promise it will be ten times more helpful than when Rhodey showed me. He’s hopeless." He slung his arm around Peter's shoulders, tilting his head so it was touching Peter's and they grinned at each other in the mirror. Tony reached over to grip Peter’s chin, tilting it slightly to get a better look.
"You know, I think I have Donatella Versace's number."
"Tony, no!"
I Know A Guy
Peter had been pacing up and down the hallway outside Tony's penthouse office for almost an hour. FRIDAY told him Tony finished up his business call almost twenty minutes ago, but he had yet to knock on the door. He was painfully aware that each minute that passed he was one minute closer to Tony opening the door himself and finding Peter loitering in the hallway and then Peter would just die of embarrassment and this will have all been for nothing.
He dropped his head back and groaned at the ceiling.
"Are you in distress Peter?"
"Yes." He grumbled, pressing his hands to his eyes. Then, realizing what the AI would undoubtedly thing was the next logical move his eyes snapped open. "I mean no, no, I'm fine!"
The fiber optics in the corner of the ceiling blinked a couple times, then, "very well Mini Boss."
Peter sighed, shoulders drooping. He might as well get this over with before FRIDAY decided to tattle whether he wanted her to or not.
Peter knocked on the door, almost worried it was too quiet and Tony won’t have heard him.
"Yeah." Came the immediate answer.
Peter took another deep breath and pushed open the door, just enough to poke his head in.
Tony glanced up from his laptop.
"Hey kid," the typing of his keyboard never stopped. "Come on in, I'm almost done."
Peter slid inside, shutting the door behind himself and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
He ambled over to the far wall, admiring up close a piece of modern art that reminded Peter a little bit of the stains and scuffs that used to mark the countertop in his old apartment.
"Alright Pete, whats up?" Tony finished typing with a flourish and leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms over his head to stretch his back.
Peter whipped around, grimacing slightly when he met the man's eyes.
"Whoa, whats wrong?"
Peter sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.
"Nothing, I just," he dropped his hands, looking pained. "I wanted to ask you something."
Tony frowned, confused and slightly alarmed at the boy's unease. "Okay. Shoot."
With another bone weary sigh Peter dropped into one of the chairs opposite Tony's sleek glass desk.
"Its nothing major. I mean, its not really a big deal. Well, it is kind of a big deal but it's not like, a big deal to me, or whatever. I mean you don’t have to worry about it if you don’t. Or can't. Like, its probably impossible anyways but if anyone can do the impossible you can but I wouldn’t even ask if it was for me because like, its not that big of a deal but its for MJ and she really wants it so I thought it would be cool if I, well you, could do it, but-"
"Pete," Tony interrupted, leaning forward so that his forearms rested on his desk. Now that he could tell the kid wasn’t in any serious trouble his worry was slightly amusing, though the man tried not to show it. This was clearly hard for Peter and Tony didn’t want to scare him off. "Why don’t you just tell me whatever it is you wanted to ask about and I'll tell you if I can do it."
Peter bit the inside of his lips. "I wanted to ask...if you could get me two tickets for Hamilton."
Tony blinked.
"Hamilton?"
"Yeah."
"The broadway show thats been sold out for months that even heads of state are trying to get in to see?"
Peter winced. "Yeah?"
Tony held his kid's gaze for a moment longer, then smirked. "Let me make a call."
An hour later Peter was sitting at his desk, trying to focus on his homework and not on the fact that Tony had soundproofed his office after kicking Peter out to make his phone call, when there was a knock on his bedroom door. Peter turned just as Tony let himself in.
"Alright kid, I've got good news and bad news."
Peter swallowed, mouth dry, he had finally gotten up the courage to ask MJ out and he really wanted it to be special and he knew how badly she wanted to see the show and if Tony couldn't get the tickets no one could and-
"Whats the bad news?"
Tony sighed, "I wasn’t able to get you front row tickets."
Peter's heart sank and he slumped in his chair like a puppet with their strings cut. "Oh."
The silence stretched while Peter fought his way out of an internal spiral. He'd started bracing himself for MJ to cancel the date entirely when she found out Peter hadn’t gotten the tickets (despite the fact she didn’t know he was even trying to get them) before Tony cleared his throat to regain his attention.
"What?"
"Aren’t you going to ask about the good news?"
"Oh, right." Peter perked up. "Whats the good news?"
Tony's face lit up. "I was able to get you second row tickets."
Peter gasped. "Wait. What? Really?!"
"Aaaannd back stage passes to meet the cast."
Peter was speechless, staring at Tony long enough the older man's grin began to falter. Then Peter was out of his chair, launching himself across the room with enough force to nearly knock Tony off his feet.
"I take it this is acceptable?" Tony asked against the side of Peter's head, arms wrapped tight around the boy’s shoulders.
Peter nodded, face pressed to Tony's chest. "Yes, this is just, just the absolute best. Thank you! Thank you so much this is insane."
Tony's chest felt warm and light. He couldn't help himself, he dropped a kiss onto the boy's head. "You're welcome, kiddo."
Return to Sender
Peter’s mouth was dry and his head pounded in time with his heart.
No no no no no.
He couldn’t seem to make his thoughts go beyond the denial. He needed to think. Needed to plan. Need to come up with something but…
No this couldn’t be happening it couldn’t couldn’t…
He was stuck in an endless loop, staring without blinking at the message on his laptop.
Bring the tech.
Or else.
And what…what did that even mean?
Tony had said Parker Luck was a myth, that losing four parental figures in five years and being homeless through the majority of the worst winter New York had seen in recent history was just a terrible coincidence.
But then, how do you explain this?
Or else.
Bring the tech.
Or else.
Or else what? The email address wasn’t one he recognized, it didn’t even look real, just a bunch of nonsensical letters and numbers. He had almost deleted it thinking it was spam before glancing through the contents and the air had been sucked out of the room.
Peter Parker.
We know everything.
Bring copies of the schematics and programming specs for the tech scheduled to be revealed at the SI Quarterly Developers Conference to the coordinates below at 12:00 on Friday. Do NOT bring the police or the Avengers into this or there will be consequences.
Bring the tech, Peter.
Or else.
What did they know? What did they want? Who was ‘they’?
With a sudden shot of adrenaline Peter launched out of this chair and started pacing his room, hands gripping his hair as he tried to remember how to breathe.
“C’mon Peter think, just think. Just stop.” He made himself stop moving and closed his eyes, forcing a deep breath. “Think.”
It almost worked, his heart started to slow slightly.
Until he looked at his laptop again and he felt his pulse spike. What if they knew he was Spiderman? Or someone had leaked the Stark adoption? Which was worse? Was there something else? Had they found out about Ben? Was it Oscorp? Did they know about the spider bite? Who were they going to tell? What would-
“Mini boss, you appear to be in distress, I am notifying Boss.”
“No!” Peter shouted, whirling around to face his door as if he thought Tony would come crashing in in that very moment. “FRIDAY it’s fine, I just…”
“I’m sorry Mini Boss, my directives are absolute when it comes to your safety.”
A moment later Tony did burst in, not bothering to knock.
“Kid?” Tony’s tone was slightly frantic, eyes sweeping around the room and over Peter’s face. He furrowed his brows, clearly finding Peter standing in the middle of his room apparently unharmed was not what he was expecting.
Peter attempted to swallow, stymied by his dry mouth. He pulled his hands out of his hair and clenched them into fists to press his fingernails into his palms.
“Pete what’s wrong? FRIDAY said you were in some kind of distress.”
Peter forced himself to stay facing away from his laptop, the email still pulled up on the screen felt like a brand burning into his back through his t shirt.
Peter was Spiderman, and he’d been on his own a lot longer than he’d been with Tony. He could handle this. He could figure it out.
“I…I’m fine. It’s nothing. Swear.”
If anything Peter’s halting, croaking denial seemed to worry Tony more. He moved further into the room, eyes locked on Peters, fingers twitching as if he wished to reach out.
“Pete, buddy, you gotta talk to me. What’s going on? I can tell you’re upset.” Tony gave into his impulse finally and put his hands on Peter’s shoulders, their weight grounding for the boy as Tony tilted his chin, as if trying to see into Peter’s head. “Whatever it is, we can figure it out.”
Instantly Peter’s throat tightened and tears burned at his eyes.
We.
We can figure it out.
How long had it been since there had even been a ‘we’ to figure things out with? Peter had been on his own for so long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone at his back.
Tony looked stricken on seeing the tears gathering in Peter’s eyes, he squeezed his shoulders, tone turning slightly desperate.
“Pete, Peter please, let me-“
“Someone emailed me. I don’t know who. They said they knew everything…they said-“ Peter’s throat tightened until he couldn’t speak anymore and he squeezed his eyes shut. Tony’s brow furrowed, and he glanced around, eyes landing on the laptop on his desk and the open message on the screen. Peter felt Tony’s hands disappear and waited in the heavy silence for what would come next. Tony wouldn’t be mad at him would he? Peter didn’t think he’d done anything, but maybe this would be the moment he realized Peter wasn’t worth all the effort he’d put in, he’d finally recognize the Parker Curse for what it was and Peter was about to lose his last chance at-
“FRIDAY, trace the source of this email.”
Tony’s voice was flat and hard and Peter ducked his head as if the tone was directed at him, eyes still clenched shut. He reached toward the numbness that sometimes fell over him after a particularly bad nightmare, he could almost able pretend this whole thing was happening to someone else.
“Unable to comply Boss, the signal was diverted at the source and-“
“Override ‘Play By the Rules’ protocol.”
“Source found. Sending the pertinent files to your Starkpad.”
Peter gasped, still trying to regain his bearings after the emotional roller coaster of FRIDAY’s last two messages. Second’s later two big arms wrapped around his shoulders and Peter’s face was pressed into the worn soft fabric of Tony’s black t shirt. The numbness faded as he inhaled the smell of fabric softener and expensive cologne.
“I’ve got you Peter. We’re okay.” Tony muttered, squeezing tighter when the kid’s hands came up to clutch the back of his shirt. “Everything is going to be fine.”
Peter just nodded, letting Tony tuck him up under his chin and sway gently while the boy worked himself through the anxiety of the last half hour.
“Thank you.” Peter whispered, feeling so relieved, so held in that moment he couldn’t believe he’d ever considered not telling Tony about the email.
He felt a kiss press to the side of his head. “No one gets to threaten my kid.” Tony murmured fiercely, “No one.”
Peter swallowed and nodded, but didn’t relinquish his grip. Tony didn’t either, content to stand there until Peter felt safe to let go.
Frontal Lobe Development
“What the hell happened to you?” Tony exclaimed, jumping up from the table and reaching for his battered teenager as he came around the corner from the Penthouse elevator.
Peter jerked his chin out of Tony’s grasp, batting the man’s hands away. “It’s fine. Listen I-“
“What do you mean it’s fine? You look like you’ve been through a meat grinder.” Tony frowned, grabbing Peter’s face again, this time with two hands. “Black eye, split lip, FRIDAY, does he have a concussion?”
“I don’t have a concussion.”
“I’ll let FRIDAY tell me that, thank you.”
“Mini Boss does not appear to be suffering from any traumatic head injuries Boss.”
“I told you.” Peter huffed, pulling out of his father’s grasp again. “I’m fine, I’ll be healed by tonight. But I need to talk to you.”
Tony let Peter pull away, but didn’t look pleased, continuing to scrutinize the boy’s face and body for any injuries FRIDAY might have missed.
“Hopefully whatever you need to talk about has to do with why someone apparently used you as an MMA practice dummy today?”
Peter sighed, shoving his hair out of his eyes and meeting his father’s gaze seriously. “Actually it does.”
Tony’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Oh?”
Peter looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. You know how I alway say that I can handle Flash and the bullying because at least that means he’s not picking on anyone else, and I’m Spiderman, and I can handle it and all that?”
“Yes, I’m aware of your argument for your bully’s continuing to be allowed to torment you daily.”
Peter rolled his eyes, just barely, and blew out a breath. “C’mon Dad. This isn’t easy for me.”
Tony sighed, uncrossing his arms and leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Okay, okay, I”m sorry. What about Flash?”
Pressing his lips together, Peter winced slightly at the strain against his still healing flesh.
“So, I guess when you said my logic was flawed, you were maybe right.”
Again, Tony’s eyebrows betrayed his surprise, and he lifted a hand to rub his goatee, fighting to keep his tone and expression neutral. The last thing he needed now was to start gloating and make the kid shut down.
“Yeah. I mean, it used to be true, I think. But this new kid moved to the school recently and he’s a piece of work and Flash seems to think he needs to step up his aggression to keep his place in the social hierarchy or something because on my way out at the end of the day I came across him picking on this other kid. I managed to get the attention off him, but…” Peter made a vague gesture toward his face which gave Tony a clue as to how exactly Peter got the attention of the bully.
“Provoked him didn’t you?”
Peter winced and held his forefinger and thumb apart slightly. “Maybe just a little bit.”
Tony scoffed and rubbed his face. “Oh kid.”
Peter looked crestfallen and dropped his eyes to the floor. “I thought I was protecting people, but I guess I’m only good at that as Spider-Man.”
“No no, none of that.” Tony said, gathering the kid into his arms. “You do an amazing job. And I’m sure you have managed to take the abuse for other kids in your school in the past but, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, why don’t you tap me in on this one, hm? ”
Peter just nodded, head rubbing against Tony’s cheek. Tony tightened his hold in appreciation.
“Okay.” He kissed the side of Peter’s head and shooed him off to his bedroom to do homework. Once he heard the door close, he pulled out his phone.
“Yeah, hi, this is Tony Stark, Peter Parker’s dad. I need to speak to Henry Morita.”
What Big Teeth You Have
“Boss, Karen is calling.”
Tony looked up from his workbench. “Put him through Fri.”
“Hey Tony. So remember how you offered to create a special punching bag that will tell me how hard I’m hitting so I can learn exactly how much power to put into my hits in different situations?”
Silence and then, “yes.”
“Um, I know I said it wasn’t a big deal and I was doing just fine learning on my own…”
Tony dropped his face into his hands. “Yes?”
“But did you still have those designs and maybe a prototype that we could get working by like…tomorrow?”
“Peter…”
“And on a completely unrelated note, there may be an unconscious rhinoceros mutant inside a warehouse in Queens. And also a rhinoceros shaped hole in the wall outside said warehouse.”
Tony sighed, deep and with feeling. “Okay kid. I’m on it.”
+1 Misery Business
When Peter was sick, which didn’t happen often since the bite, he really went all out. Headache, fever, upset stomach, sore throat, the works.
When he got sick due to the spider bite it was the number one worst experience of sickness in his short life.
In second place was the flu he caught one week after running away from his foster home, when he’d spent endless miserable days being accused of being drunk while he vomited in an alley and trying to dodge cops and cruel bar hopping frat boys.
And this was shaping up to be a close third on the scale of worst bouts of sickness in Peter Parker's life.
He pressed his forehead against the toilet tank, relishing in the feel of cool porcelain against his superheated skin. A second later shivers racked his body and Peter moaned, his stomach cramping in time with his pounding head. He hated it here. The floor was cold and hard, he had vomit on his chin and his shirt, the electricity in the walls was buzzing in his ears, he had razorblades in his throat and the smell of sick wafting up from the water was turning his stomach.
He squeezed his eyes shut as his chest built up with pressure that had nothing to do with the coughs racking his lungs every few moments and choked the sobs back down. He wanted May. He wanted Tony.
He just wanted not to be alone.
But he'd thrown himself into his ensuite bathroom when his cramping stomach woke him and barely made it to the toilet before the entire contents of his stomach rocketed up from his throat.
And FRIDAY didnt monitor the bathrooms.
Peter tried again to get his shaking limbs to cooperate enough to move toward the door.
He wasn’t on the street anymore, he didn’t have to suffer alone. He wanted Tony. Tony could make this better.
He just needed to find a way to reach him.
Peter attempted to haul himself off of where he was half kneeling, half laying, across the toilet, trying to walk but willing to crawl back into the bedroom. But as he did the floor and walls suddenly shifted positions, Peter was hit with an intense wave of vertigo and he flailed, smashing one hand through the drywall behind him and the other catching hard on porcelain.
Peter cried out, curling into a ball and cradling his hands to his chest as tears and sweat mingled on his cheeks. His soft whimpers slowly turned into chest deep sobs as his thoughts devolved into one single circular thought.
I wish Dad was here I wish Dad was here I wish Dad was here
And then…he was.
“Peter! What happened?”
Big gentle hands were on Peter’s shoulders, then smoothing down his arms, somehow maneuvering the boy’s body until it was no longer sprawled across the hard floor but cushioned on a warm, soft lap.
“Oh bud, you’re alright, I’ve got you. Everything is alright.”
Peter shook his head and sobbed, entire body trembling with shivers and exhausted muscles that wouldn’t seem to hold him. He felt a hand come up to cup the back of his head, pressing his face into a shirt and scruffy neck. Distantly Peter was aware that he was sweaty and gross nd probably at least somewhat splattered with vomit, but the thought was too slippery and difficult to keep hold of. Instead he attempted to get his crying under control so he could breathe easier and relished in the sudden pervasive feeling of safety.
“You came.” Peter rasped, when his breathing was more or less back to normal.
Tony shifted, looking down at his kid’s flushed, cheeks and swollen eyes. “Of course I did. I’ll always come for you, buddy.”
Peter swallowed, wincing at the way his throat ached and closed his eyes, listening to the unsteady beat of Tony’s heart.
“How…did you?”
“Know you were sick?”
Peter nodded, grimacing as his head pounded in the silence.
“I finished up in the lab and I always check on you when I’m on my way to bed. I heard you when I opened your door.”
Peter’s eyes flew open and he looked up to see a soft, loving look on his adopted father’s face.
“You do?” Peter remembered May used to do that, when she finished a double shift and she thought he was asleep. Ben too. “I didn’t know…” you loved me like they did.
“Every night.” Forever and ever.
The two stared at each other a moment longer, Peter searching to be sure he wasn’t having some sort of fevered hallucination and Tony wishing to infuse every ounce of his love into the very air around them.
The moment was broken when Peter’s body was racked with another full body shiver, this time making his teeth begin to chatter. This seemed to jar Tony back to the present and his ‘fixing things’ mindset was back in play, a plan of action at the ready.
“Alright, let’s get you up.” He grunted as he helped a moaning Peter into a more seated position. “Are you done?” He gestured toward the toilet. Peter winced and closed his eyes.
“I think so.”
“Okay, I think you should rinse off in the shower, I’ll get you another set of pajamas and change the sheets on your bed.”
“Tony, you don’t have to.” Peter protested weakly, and was cut off by a kiss on his forehead.
“I know Bambino. I want to.” The quiet words made Peter’s eyes sting and he swallowed tears, despite the way his throat ached.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Tony nodded. “Are you gonna be able to undress or do you need help?”
Peter bit his lip, looking into the large walk in shower thoughtfully. “Maybe if you helped me onto the bench? I think I could do it.”
Tony agreed and together they slowly, painfully, managed to maneuver Peter off the floor and into the shower. Tony turned on the water and adjusted the temperature while Peter leaned against the cool tiles.
“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Tony cupped Peter’s right cheek, thumb sweeping under his eyes gently. Peter’s eyes stung with tears again and he leaned into it. Tony seemed to notice because he tsked and brought his other hand up to cup Peter’s left cheek. “Oh bud, what’s wrong?”
Peter shook his head, rubbing his fists against his eyes in an attempt to stave off the tears.
“Nothing. I just…” he shrugged. “May always said I was emotional when I was sick.” He muttered, suddenly feeling his chest tighten with oncoming sobs.
“That’s okay.” Tony assured him. “What if I helped you get out of your top and sweatpants and you work on the boxers yourself, hm?”
Peter agreed readily, already exhausted and wishing to be back in his bed as soon as possible. Once he was down to his shorts Tony gathered up the soiled clothing and left Peter to his shower. As soon as physically possible Peter was turning off the water, shivering, but glad not to be covered in sweat and sick anymore.
He wrapped himself in one of the indulgently soft towels Tony kept stocked in the penthouse and spotted another t shirt and pants on the counter alongside a cup of mouthwash.
Peter worked on putting on his fresh underwear, but bending over and lifting one foot proved to be more than his weakened body could handle and he stumbled, slumping down toward the floor as his legs gave way. He managed to drop onto the toilet instead, but he banged his elbow on the side of the sink as he did so. He grimaced, half dressed and still wet, goosebumps traveling over his skin and he was crying again, frustrated, exhausted and miserable.
Almost instantly Tony was back. He didn’t speak this time aside from shushing Peter gently and promising to take care of things. Peter sniffed and let himself be guided, pliant in a half dazed state as Tony maneuvered him back to standing. He leaned heavily against the wall as Tony quick and carefully dressed him, somewhat practiced at it after all the run ins with emergency medical issues Spider Man had had.
Peter felt something being pushed into his hand and looked down at the cup of mouthwash.
“Swish and spit it out. Don’t swallow.”
Peter did, thankful for the refreshment even in his half-zombie state.
“Alright, back to bed with you.”
Tony had changed the sheets and brought out an extra blanket from somewhere and Peter groaned happily at the feeling of being clean and horizontal again.
“You’re a saint.” He murmured, eyes already closed.
Tony snorted, busying himself with tucking the blanket in tight around the kids body, then leaning over to gently smooth his hair back from his forehead.
“Better Bambi?”
Peter nodded. His head was still pounding and his throat hurt, but his stomach cramps were a little more bearable.
“Okay. I’m just down the hall if you need me, okay? You don’t have to get up, Friday can get me. Anything Pete, okay? No request too small, you hear me?” Tony knew his kid. Knew he’d been on his own too much and too long and was too inclined to suffer in silence for fear of upsetting someone. He didn’t want that. That’s what he was for. He needed the kid to understand that.
“Gonna need some confirmation here Pete.”
At his insistence Peter’s forehead wrinkled in a pathetic frown.
“Pete?”
The kid opened his eyes, bloodshot and full of tears.
Tony went to his knees, chest aching at the sight. “What is it? Tell me what I can do.”
Peter’s chin trembled and he burrowed even more under the covers, as if trying to hide. He muttered something too quiet to hear.
Tony leaned even closer, trying to pull the blankets away from his face. “What?”
Peter licked his chapped lips and squeezed his eyes shut, “would you please stay with me?”
There was a long silence where Peter’s stomach dropped, worried Tony would think badly of his childish request. Itswas just that Ben always used to sit with Peter when he was sick and it had been so long since there had been anyone to ask and Peter didn’t want to be alone again, it felt too nice having Tony there. Too safe to let him go.
Suddenly the mattress was dipping and Peter was being hauled up into strong arms again. He pressed as close as physics would allow.
Tony kissed his hair and then the side of his head.
“Of course, Bambino, I’m not going anywhere.”
Forever and ever and ever.