irondad & spiderson oneshots

lxxvi. home alone

"Are you sure you'll be okay alone?" Tony asked fretfully.

Peter let out a groan and rolled his eyes so hard, his father was surprised they didn't roll out of his head. "I'll be fine, Dad. I'm eleven."

"Yeah, I know you're eleven." Tony sassed.

Peter huffed, a small grin on his face. "Don't hesitate to call me for anything, okay? And I mean anything." The billionaire told his son.

"Yeah, I got it, Dad." Peter sighed out.

"I'll be about four hours, so you might be asleep when I get back." The man explained.

"Mhm." The eleven year old mumbled.

Tony pulled a random fifty dollar bill out of seemingly nowhere and slammed it on the table in front of Peter. "For emergencies."

"What kind of emergency would require-"

"I put nothing past you, cucciolo." Tony said with a raised brow. Then he narrowed his eyes and examined his kid.

"Call me for anything-"

"Yes, I get it! If I stub my toe you'll be the first person I call!" Peter cried, giggling.

"Good." Tony said in all seriousness.

"Ugh." Peter groaned, rolling his eyes again.

"Keep doing that, they'll get stuck that way. See you, bambino." Tony flicked Peter's nose, before stalking toward the elevator and leaving with one final wink.

Peter shook his head in fond exasperation and adjusted himself on the sofa. He'd been extra tired all day but hadn't mention it to his Dad, it hadn't seemed important.

"G'night Jarvis." He mumbled, before his eyes slowly fell closed and he fell asleep.

||

Peter woke with a gasp, a sheen of sweat covering his body. He was freezing, shivers racking his whole body. He'd had a nightmare, it's why he woke up, but he couldn't remember what it was about.

All he could recall was wanting his Dad so much it hurt. Speaking of hurt, his stomach was killing him. He let out a groan, curling around himself and squeezing his eyes shut.

His head was pounding with his every heartbeat and for lack of better wording, he felt like complete and utter shit. Everything hurt, his head, his throat, his stomach, everything.

Peter whined as he felt a stab of pain in his stomach. "Are you alright, Young Sir?" Jarvis questioned softly.

"I'm okay." Peter whispered (read: lied).

"Are you sure?"

That AI really was intuitive.

"Yeah, Jarvis. Don't wanna bother Dad." He murmured.

Peter didn't want to bother the man, but that didn't stop him from wanting him so badly tears began to pool in his eyes.

He was sick, he knew that by now. He wasn't that stupid. Peter sniffled, tears dripping down his face.

"Peter, it seems you have a fever of 102.6, I'll have to call your father soon." Jarvis warned.

"No!" He cried, "Don't bother Dad."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Jarvis stressed.

"He's at an important meeting." Peter whimpered.

The eleven year old let out a soft sob as he dug his nails into his palms.

"Young Sir, because of the Baby Monitor Protocol, I have to call your father." Jarvis said, sounding almost worried.

"No." Peter whined pitifully.

The call went through immediately.

"Hey, tesoro, what's up?" His dad's voice echoed through the room.

The boy flinched at the loud noise, whimpering. "Daddy." He croaked.

"Peter? What's wrong?" His father demanded.

"It hurts." He rasped.

"Jarvis?" Tony cried.

"Young Sir has a fever of 102.8 and it is rapidly rising. I would suggest immediate medical attention." The AI explained.

"What?"

Peter cried out, bringing his hands up to his ears.

"Shit!" His dad hissed, "I'm on my way, kiddo."

Peter sniffled and his eyes fluttered closed again.

||

"Bambino? Hey, Sweetheart, you gotta wake up." A soft voice was whispering by his ear.

Peter cracked his eyes open, hissing in pain. "Daddy." He cried in relief. The billionaire quickly lifted the boy into his arms and Peter nuzzled his face into his dad's shoulder.

"I've got you, tesoro, let's go to medical, c'mon." Tony whispered in his son's ear.

Peter sighed, finally content, and let him fall asleep once more.

So what if Tony bailed out of a meeting with the President two and a half hours early? Who cared?