A Slice Of Life, Death And Everything In-Between

Cough A Lung Up (But Leave Your Heart For Me)

Prompt by @abyssal-glory: okay so now i'm sick and i blame u for somehow sending ur sickness thru cyberspace so it's ur turn to write a big sappy pile of sick peter/dad tony mush pretty pls

Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

                              __________

Peter started to realize something was wrong when his cough didn't go away.

The first few times it happened, it wasn't really that big of a deal. It still hurt like hell, but it was sporadic bouts of coughing, not a continues stream.

That however, changed a few days into the first week of winter break.

That's when thing's started to get really bad.

His head aches and he weakly rises from bed, throwing the covers off of his legs and shivering as the cool air wraps around him. His nose whistles with each breath and his legs shake, a cough jolting his body and causing his chest to ache.

He gets dressed, body shaking with each tug of his clothes.

Food. He thinks, stumbling out of the room and making his way toward the kitchen, his stomach rumbling and his throat dry. Need food.

Sniffling, the teen had just made it into the other room when a sudden cough shoots up his entire body, catching him off guard. His eyes begin to water and he doubles over, reaching and grabbing at the counter top for support as he limbs shake.

Foot steps, slow at first but quickening in pace, travel down the hall and his dad is suddenly there, grabbing onto his arms and supporting his body.

"Peter?" Tony asks, his still work shop dirtied hands gently cupping his child's face and tilting his chin up. "Buddy, what's wrong? What hurts?"

The spidering, on his part, tries to respond, forcefully pushing down his coughs until they jump against his chest. His eyes water with tears and his dad gently brushes them away with his thumb, carefully leading him over to the couch.

"Alright, bambino, alright." Tony whispers, moving a pillow out of the way and pushing Peter down to sit. "Just stay there for me. Don't move."

Peter nods, sniffling as he curls up, bringing his feet, shoes and all, to rest on the cushion beside him. Tony pauses for a second to bend down and press a kiss to his forehead, leaning back to gently run a hand through his curls before stepping away.

And Peter whines.

Blushing a little once he realizes what he did– in his defense, he is sick– the teen turns his face into the pillow next to him, smothering his coughs into the fabric. He can feel Tony's eyes on him and he smushes his face in further, ignoring how his nose begins to run from the angle.

"Figlio idiota." He hears Tony mutter and he blushes even harder.

His dad comes back after a few minutes, setting something heavy down on the coffee table before reaching over and gently shaking Peter's shoulder. The boy weakly lifts his head, blinking, doe eyes squinting in the light as he coughs a little.

"Hey, spider-baby," Tony coos, sitting down next to his kid and pulling him against his side. "Got you some soup and medicine. Think you can sit up enough to eat?"

"Yeah–" Peter starts to say, but a cough interrupts him and he practically doubles over, chest hitching. Tony, eyes filling with concern, gently shushes him, patting his back until he manages to catch his breath.