Spider-Son & Iron Dad one shots

Sick

^^ive uploaded three times today somebody stop me

also what a great day to be writing this :) IM SUFFERING

Spooktober.07

Peter didn't get sick often, but when he did?

It was AWFUL.

And he most certainly did not expect to wake up over his weekend at Mr. Stark's cabin with a pounding headache and a throat that was so sore he didn't even want to breathe.

He also didn't expect to wake up with these symptoms at four in the morning.

Peter scrunches his face in pain, curling in on himself. His whole body ached and he shivered.

He sat there wallowing in his own pain for atleast an hour, not able to fall asleep.

Being sick was worse than being stabbed, in Peter's opinion. And he's been stabbed a lot.

As he watched the sun rise from out the window, he wanted to cry from exhaustion. He'd been up late doing homework, and then he woke up way too early from Satan kicking him in the immune system.

He sat there for a while longer. Somebody knocked on his door, most definitely Tony. Although Peter couldn't hear anything from his ears being plugged, he knew that Tony had a routine when it came to waking up his kids.

The door opened. "Peter?" Tony's voice said softly. It was slightly endearing to hear Tony's 'wake up, kid' voice when he was fully awake, but Peter was in too much pain to really appreciate anything.

He wanted to speak up, but as he breathed out, it burned in his throat and reminded him of his dilemma.

"Wake up, kiddo." Tony walked over to Peter's bed to shake him awake. Peter just turned to face Tony before he could touch him, and gave him the most pitiful face in the world.

Tony raises an eyebrow at him and leans forward, pressing a hand to Peter's forehead. He frowns and pulls away. "Yep. You're very much sick."

Peter wanted badly to speak up and say something sarcastic, but his throat won that battle as well. He just pouts instead.

"I'm guessing you already knew that," Tony says. Peter gives a short nod. "Do you want breakfast?"

The thought of swallowing anything made Peter want to tear out his throat and smash it into a million pieces; because that probably would hurt less that trying to force a forkful or scrambled eggs into his mouth.

He shakes his head.

"Okay," Tony shrugs. "That's totally valid. How about I make you some tea?"

Peter wanted to decline, but he knew that he needed to drink fluids if he wanted to beat this stupid virus. He nods.

"Ice tea, right?" Tony confirms, getting up. Peter nods. Tony leaves the room.

Peter shivers in the dark for a little longer, his limbs too sore and weak to get him to move. He wanted to check his phone, or maybe turn on the television. Or simply just sit up. But alas.

Tony came back up with a large mug of ice tea. Peter then realized that he would HAVE to sit up. He groaned internally.

Tony was already ahead of him, gently easing Peter up and sticking multiple pillows behind in his back to keep him propped up.

Peter wanted to cry again, but he was too tired for that. He gives Tony a grateful look and takes the mug, holding it up with shaky hands.

The tea is completely frigid, helping soothe his throat temporarily as it passes down. It still hurts badly, but Peter expected that already.

Tony has a thermometer in his other hand, and he takes it across Peter's forehead as he's drinking the tea. It beeps, and Tony clicks his tongue.

"What are your symptoms?" Tony sits next to him on the bed.

Peter frowned for a second. That was not a yes or no question. He swallows another small sip of tea painfully and speaks up.

"Ache-y," Peter starts, flinching. "Headache. Throat hurts really bad."

"Sorry, Pete. Being sick sucks," Tony agreed.

Peter shudders as he swallows another sip of tea, discomfort coming in waves over his body. He frowns and shivers closer into the blanket.

"I want death," he says simply.

"Welp, the universe said no, so they gave you the next best thing." Tony ruffles his hair. Peter slumps against him tiredly. "You should try and get some sleep. It'll heal you up faster."

"I can't take naps," Peter says defeatedly. "I'm not a nap person."

"I'm not shocked, you're extremely energetic most days," Tony teases.

Peter sticks out his tongue.

"Alright sickie, what do you want to watch?" Tony asks, letting Peter lean into his side.

"YouTube," Peter responds shortly.

Tony hands him the remote. "You heard him, FRI."

Peter turns on his watch later playlist. Every once in a while he'll take off a blanket or start shivering and put one back on. Tony watched with him, running his hands through Peter's hair.

He'd learned a while back that Peter was clingy when he was sick, the exact opposite of himself. Where Tony would lock himself in his room and sleep for hours until he felt better, Peter would cuddle as close to somebody as he could and guzzle water and occasionally NyQuil to get better.

At first Tony would tease him about how Peter was going to infect him, but in reality he never cared. If it made Peter feel better, than he couldn't care. He just wanted his kid to be okay, all times.

"I hate the plague," Peter pouts, pausing the video to blow his nose into a tissue. He whimpered in pain and curled back into Tony's side.

"I know, kid," Tony said fondly. Sometimes he shocked himself how much he cared about Peter. How, no matter what, covered in blood or snot—Tony would be there. Tony WANTED to be there. He'd risk anything for this strange little teenager.

He pushed the big thoughts away, just to enjoy the moment. Peter was finally drifting off, definitely drooling on Tony's shirt. His hair was sweaty, which was a good sign that his fever was breaking.

Peter was so out of it that Tony was easily able to slip out of Peter's grasp and lay him down properly. He removes some of the pillows so Peter can lay down mostly flat and then tucks Peter in, pulling the covers over him.

Turning off the television, he disposed of all of the used tissues on Peter's bed. He then finally kisses his forehead. "Goodnight, kiddo. Sweet dreams."

Peter just sniffles in response. Tony smiles and leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

All was well in the Stark household.

Tony's kids were doing just fine.