Summary: Toddler Peter gets sick. Tony to the rescue.
*I do not ship Starker in any shape, way, or form. Little children tend to call their parents “Daddy” and “Mommy”, and in this fic Peter calls Tony daddy, please don’t make any inappropiate jokes or assume I ship pedophilia, thank you!
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Peter tossed and turned in his sleep, face mimicking one of discomfort as his lungs itched for air through dry coughs, and his face felt extremely sweaty. He moaned in frustration as he burst out into a fit of hacks and miserably laid his head back down after a series of sneezes. Not to mention the icky feeling he felt all over as his stomach began to hurt.
The four year old hiccuped as the pain in his chest only increased and he felt like he was going to throw up. He quickly got out of the bed, one hand clutching his stuffie clown fish (he’s back bitches) and his red and blue blankie as he knocked on his Dad’s door.
The door opened not too long later to reveal Tony half-awake as he rubbed his eyes, “Peter, what’s wrong bud?”
The four year old hiccuped, “I think I have to throw up.”
The older man quickly became awake as he rushed Peter to the bathroom just in time for him to throw up into the toilet bowl. Tony stroked Peter’s back softly as the boy emptied his gut out, murmuring soft reassurances into the four year old’s ear.
Once Peter was done retching, Tony carefully set him on the tiled floor and unravelled some toilet paper and wiped Peter’s face with warm water, asking softly, “Done buddy?”
The four year old miserably nodded, eyes fluttering close as he burst into another fit of coughs and pouted. He reached his arms up gesturing for Tony to pick him up, whining softly, “Daddy, hurts.”
The elder man furrowed as he crouched in front of his children and carded his fingers through Peter’s hair, trying to figure out what would comfort Peter best asking, “What hurts buddy? I’ll make it better, I promise.”
Peter’s dopey head leaned against Tony’s warm one replying, “Hurts all over Daddy, sleepy but icky.”
Tony nodded, scooping Peter up and pinning him against his hip as he carried the sick toddler to the fridge scouring for tynaeol. He softly rubbed Peter’s cheek, hating that he couldn’t do anything but offer his comfort and solace for his son. He carried the toddler along with medicine and a glass of water back to his bedroom, setting Peter down on the plush covers.
Eyeing the medicine, Peter’s face mimicked disgust, “Daddy, do I hafta take the med’cine?” He frowned, “No taste good.”
Tony nodded, crouching in front of Peter, “I know bud, but it’s going to make you feel better alright?” He hummed, proposing, “Tell you what, you take the medicine and get better, and we’ll go to Chuck E. Cheese when you’re all better. How does that sound?”
Peter pondered the proposal and then nodded firmly, “Promise?”
Tony nodded, “Stark promises. After all, Stark promises are made of iron, right bud?”
Peter nodded as he swallowed the medicine, chubby fingers making a grabby motion at the glass of water. Once he was done, he handed it back to Tony who set it down on the nightstand, and lifted the covers all the way up to Peter’s chin. He then slid in under the covers and wrapped his arms around Peter, humming a tune (the Avengers theme song) and watched as Peter’s eyes lulled asleep in the warm darkness.
A/N: Please excuse how crappy this fic is, I literally couldn’t think but I didn’t want to disappoint you guys by not updating so here i am.
+ on that note, I had 1K and then I lost it (smh am i right?). Care to help a writer/editor out?
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