A Slice Of Life, Death And Everything In-Between

Actions Are Just Executed Ideas (For Better Or For Worse)

Okay, alright, Tony can work with that.

After sending a quick command to FRIDAY to text May that he's found Peter, Tony carefully disassembles the Suit around him, gathering his child into his arms once the metal recedes.

"It's okay. It's okay, you're alright, Bambi. Shh, shh."

Peter chokes, a sob getting stuck in his throat. He holds Tony tightly, burying his face in his father's neck, his knees shaking. Tony is quick to scoop him up, practically holding Peter upright as the boy babbles.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, sorry sorry sorry. Mr-Mr. Stark I'm sorry, I couldn't—I wasn't fast enough and they— they —"

Tony just holds him tighter, watching as the New York skyline glows around them. His heart breaks, shatters for the teenager in his arms.

__________

I love you.

"I'm n-not sick."

Tony snorts, standing up from his place on the couch. His son stands at the hallway doorframe, his thin frame shivering as he sniffs. Peter's normally bright doe eyes are bleak, rimmed red, his button nose wrinkling as he blinks up at his mentor.

"Right." Tony drawls out the word, gently tugging Peter's backpack from his weak grip. "And I'm a ballerina."

"I mean, I don't know what-what you do in your free time—"

Tony sighs. "Peter, you have a cold. You're not going to school today, kiddie, no if ands or buts about it."

"I have a test."

"It can wait."

"My grades will drop."

"I'll talk to your teachers. Peter, for the love of God, go back to bed."

"Aunt M-May would let me go."

"Nope, no she sure as hell wouldn't. Don't forget, bud, me and her have a group chat remember? That's the whole reason you're here and not at your apartment."

Peter pouts, reluctantly allowing his father to gently steer him back to his room, ducking his head when Tony's attempts feel his temperature.

" 'm not sick."

"No matter how many times you say that, Petey-Pie, it's not gonna become any more true." Pulling back Peter's covers with one hand, Tony gently pulls his son forward with his other. "Come on, Bambi, bed time."

Finally, Peter sniffs, allowing his clearly exhausted body to fit back against the sunken mattress, a sigh escaping. Tony smirks, gently fixing the pillow under his son's head, taking a second to gently brush a hand through Peter's soft, sweat soaked curls.

Peter leans into the touch, his doe eyes watery.

"See, bubba. Wasn't so bad, huh? Lay here, I'm gonna go get you some soup."

Peter shakes his head, burying his face in his pillow. His voice is muffled. "Don't want any."

Tony pauses. "You sure?"

"Y-Yeah." A cough cuts Peter off and he jolts, groaning as Tony gently rubs soothing circles against his back, wincing in sympathy. "Not v-very hungry."

"Mkay, let me know if that changes, okay? You're gonna eat dinner tonight though, you have to get something in your stomach."

Peter just nods, curling up into a tighter, shivering ball in the middle of the bed and Tony can't help the gentle coo that rises out of him. Standing up with one last kiss against Peter's temple, the genius is just about to close the door behind him when Peter's sudden voice stalls him in his tracks.

"Wait, T-Tony, can-can you stay? Please?"

Tony smiles, walking back over to the bed and carefully settling down beside his kid, his heart melting when Peter immediately leans against his side.

"Of course, kiddo, anything you need."

I love you.