Spider-Son & Iron Dad one shots

An unedited, old fanfic by: me

A/n: guys I'm screeching I was going through my old notes and found a fanfic I wrote like 5 months ago I'm sHOOK

And deciding to post it lmao here you go:

Peter wakes up feeling horrible. He can feel his cheeks warmer then the rest of his face, and how his throat crawls with pain and prickles in discomfort. However, he's Spider-Man. 

And what superhero skips school with a cold? So, he forces himself out of bed and pulls on one of his iconic science t shirts with the puns on them, and a pair of old blue jeans. He skips breakfast and heads to school.

Ned realizes how awful he looks. "Dude, did you get punched in a fight or something? Ned's eyes are filled with concern, and Peter looks up from his locker miserably. "To tell you the truth Peter, you look awful." Peter just nods. 

"Yeah, I know. No, I didn't get punched, I have a cold. It's fine, my immune system should burn through it." And with that, he heads to class.

Peter curses to himself as he reads the board. There's a test today, and with his brilliant Parker luck, he forgot to study since he was on patrol. He's handed the test and reads over the questions, sighing. Suddenly, the hair on his arms curl. He looks around for danger, but sees nothing.

He strains his hearing for maybe a ticking bomb noise, but jumps up at the sound of the school bell ringing. It pounds in his ears, he immediately shoves his hands over his ears, dropping his pencil on the desk.

Students look over at him at the sudden noise. One of them jumps out of there seat, gasping. "Something's wrong with Peter!" He makes a face at the loud mention of his name and practically recoils into his seat in displeasure. 

The sudden outburst of the student, however, got the teachers attention. She rushes over after telling the students to continue there test.

"Peter, what's wrong?" She taps him on the hand lightly. He can feel every. Last. Tap. It makes him want to pull his sweatshirt off, because it's too scratchy, it's too hot, it's too small. 

All he can think is how great this is, having a 'sensory overload' while being sick. He prays that Mr. Stark doesn't have to be called to pick him up. Or Aunt May, really.

He doesn't move his hand from his ears, for he can hear the heartbeats of every student in the class room, and the angry driver who yells at traffic five miles away.

He also hears the footsteps of the teacher as she goes to call the office. He forces his hands away from his ears and opens his eyes, but a millisecond later he shrieks loudly and claps them back. The students stare at him. He has to get out of here, and fast.

"Can I go to the office?!" His voice comes out awful. He sound tired, sick, and panicked. He doesn't wait for an answer, but a firm nod from the teacher before bolting out of the room.

Minutes pass. He never went to the office. He sits in the bathroom floor of the school, hands over his ears, slumped down, crying softly. His sensory has gotten better, so when his phone buzzes with a text, he pulls it out to answer.

Tony Stark: Hey, are you at school right now?

He takes a sharp inhale of breath

Spiderling: Yeah, I'm at lunch. Whats up, Mr. Stark? Is there a Misson?

Tony Stark: No mission, kid. Meet me in the bathroom, I'll explain there.

He panics. What if he knew? And if he didn't, How was he going to pull this off? Is he already in here? Those were the thoughts he had as he looked under the stall door. Sure enough, there was someone in overpriced shoes leaning against a wall lazily. What if he climbed the ceiling out of the Bathroom? Then walked through the entrance normally?

Spiderling: Maybe we can meet in the parking lot?

"Get out of the stall, Peter. My thumbs are tired." Came the familiar voice of Tony Stark. Peter froze. He got up and opened the door, coming out of the stall with his head down in shame. Tony sighed, and put his phone away. 

He speaks up. "Its fine, Mr. Stark. I'm okay, you can leave." Tony sighs, and Peter thinks about how he never noticed that the school bathroom had tiny black spots on the wallpaper.

He then felt pain in his elbows and a sharp bark of "Peter!"

He wakes up extremely hot. He feels disconnected, in a way. He sits up and breathes the familiar smell of the compound. He jolts up more. Why would he be at the compound? He gets excited at the thought of being in the same room Avengers, or even Tony Stark. 

The excitement bubbles in his stomach like a potion, making him nauseous. He contains his excitement and gets out of the bed, putting on his sweatshirt that seemed to be abandoned to the chair next to the bed he lay in. He walks out feeling fine.

He doesn't know where he is in the compound, but he bounces on his feet as he walks around. A voice comes out of no where. "How are you feeling, Peter? Your vitals are showing that your heart is beating faster than normal." He jumps out of his skin. 

He remembers quickly that F.R.I.D.A.Y is active. "Yeah, just excited. Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y. How was your day so far?" He smiles brightly. Peter hasn't quite caught on that the AI's can't feel anything, so he always ask how there feeling. 

"I'm an AI created by Tony Stark. I can not tell you how my day has been."

He hears footsteps and jumps to the wall, quickly crawling to the ceiling. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, give me a heat scan of the room." Tony's voice speaks determinedly. 

"Complete, sir. There seems to be a heat source on the ceiling." 

"Peter, it's just me. Your boss. Get off the ceiling." 

Peter jumps down immediately. "Sorry, Mr. Stark. I'm just being cautious. Thanks for the hospitality, but I'll be leaving now, if that's okay." He turns to leave and Tony grabs his wrist.

"Peter." He talks in a stern voice. "Don't let this happen again." And Peter nods quickly before rushing out of there. Whenever he was sick, he made sure to not go to school. And to tell Tony.

A/N: as I'm reading this again, I realize this is literally just a mash up of all the prompts I liked to read back when I wrote it. It's really cringey and doesn't have a good plot, but I hope you enjoy anyway lmao