spiderman angst/sickfic oneshots

"I'll call your name but you won't call back"

Alt: thermometer, delerium

Sum: Peter gets really sick recently after May died and begins to think Tony is May as he cares for him. Tony didn't die idc !!! Completely endgame noncompliant

Post no way home
May dead (rip girly I miss chu)
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"Oh wow." Peter said as he sat up in bed, glancing around to find the time. He peeled his covers off, soaked in sweat like he'd just gone for a run. The sheets clung to him and he drearily shook them off, standing up shakily.

"Tony?" He called out nervously, standing in his bedroom door, his stomach churning like a washing machine. His voice traveled down the hall, but gained no response from his becoming father. The nausea was rising by the second and the carpet underneath his feet was making him increasingly anxious.

"Tony?" He called again, his voice weaker as he hunched over slightly, his vision blurring. He moved himself quickly to his bathroom and a moment later, Tony was kneeling by his side.

"My stomach hurts." He breathed, hiccuping afterwards as his stomach became, somehow, more uncomfortable. He felt like he had been stuffed in a really small box, everything felt tight, hot, and terrible.

Not even a second layer he vomited, his eyes glazed over slightly afterwards. Everything looked muffled and sounded blurry as his body prepared to vomit again.

"Aw, bud. It's ok, just take some breaths, let it happen... I didn't know you could get sick." Tony said slowly, rubbing the boy's back.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach cramping and making him curl up slightly, his chin bobbing down into the bowl of the toilet as he groaned. He couldn't form words through the drool pooling underneath his sour tongue.

He coughed as his stomach crawled up his throat, landing a gag after his lungs calmed down.

He felt Tony's hand circling his sweaty shirt and carefully moving him to sit up straighter so he wouldn't hurt himself when his body would inevitably convulse with another round of expelled sickness.

After he vomited a couple more times, there were beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He wasn't doing well at all, his fever was high and his energy was low. He slumped back away from the toilet, letting himself fall into Tony's arms as the man began to run his finger's through the boy's curls, trying to wipe away the sweat on his forehead and dry his hair.

"You're okay, Pete." Tony said, letting the boy rest there, not daring to disturb his rest.

"May." He mumbled, letting himself relax slightly as his eyes fluttered shut.

Tony's soft smile dropped, but decided he'd misheard something as Peter curled up in his lap. He tried to remember how to care for a sick kid.

Carefully, he lifted the boy and brought him back to his sweaty sheets. Peter immediately laid back down, trying to pull the sheets back over himself, but Tony stopped him, "hey hey not yet, let's get your temperature and change your sheets first, can you help me?"

"M'so cold." He groaned, his jaw bouncing up and down, causing his teeth to jam together. He was shivering.

"You've actually got a high fever, so hold tight until I change your sheets." Tony explained as he fumbled to get the corners off and threw the dirty linens in a corner to take away later.

After a couple minutes there were new, clean sheets and blankets on Peter's bed, and finally the boy was able to lie down. Peter climbed up onto the mattress and pulled the blankets over his shoulders silently, sleep tugging at his eyelids.

"I'm gonna go get you some medicine, okay? Hang tight, hotshot." Tony said, jogging off to grab the right items Peter needed and coming back with more than he intended.