Alt: thermometer, delerium
Sum: Peter gets really sick recently after May died and begins to think Tony is May as he cares for him. Tony didn't die idc !!! Completely endgame noncompliant
Post no way home
May dead (rip girly I miss chu)
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"Oh wow." Peter said as he sat up in bed, glancing around to find the time. He peeled his covers off, soaked in sweat like he'd just gone for a run. The sheets clung to him and he drearily shook them off, standing up shakily.
"Tony?" He called out nervously, standing in his bedroom door, his stomach churning like a washing machine. His voice traveled down the hall, but gained no response from his becoming father. The nausea was rising by the second and the carpet underneath his feet was making him increasingly anxious.
"Tony?" He called again, his voice weaker as he hunched over slightly, his vision blurring. He moved himself quickly to his bathroom and a moment later, Tony was kneeling by his side.
"My stomach hurts." He breathed, hiccuping afterwards as his stomach became, somehow, more uncomfortable. He felt like he had been stuffed in a really small box, everything felt tight, hot, and terrible.
Not even a second layer he vomited, his eyes glazed over slightly afterwards. Everything looked muffled and sounded blurry as his body prepared to vomit again.
"Aw, bud. It's ok, just take some breaths, let it happen... I didn't know you could get sick." Tony said slowly, rubbing the boy's back.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach cramping and making him curl up slightly, his chin bobbing down into the bowl of the toilet as he groaned. He couldn't form words through the drool pooling underneath his sour tongue.
He coughed as his stomach crawled up his throat, landing a gag after his lungs calmed down.
He felt Tony's hand circling his sweaty shirt and carefully moving him to sit up straighter so he wouldn't hurt himself when his body would inevitably convulse with another round of expelled sickness.
After he vomited a couple more times, there were beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He wasn't doing well at all, his fever was high and his energy was low. He slumped back away from the toilet, letting himself fall into Tony's arms as the man began to run his finger's through the boy's curls, trying to wipe away the sweat on his forehead and dry his hair.
"You're okay, Pete." Tony said, letting the boy rest there, not daring to disturb his rest.
"May." He mumbled, letting himself relax slightly as his eyes fluttered shut.
Tony's soft smile dropped, but decided he'd misheard something as Peter curled up in his lap. He tried to remember how to care for a sick kid.
Carefully, he lifted the boy and brought him back to his sweaty sheets. Peter immediately laid back down, trying to pull the sheets back over himself, but Tony stopped him, "hey hey not yet, let's get your temperature and change your sheets first, can you help me?"
"M'so cold." He groaned, his jaw bouncing up and down, causing his teeth to jam together. He was shivering.
"You've actually got a high fever, so hold tight until I change your sheets." Tony explained as he fumbled to get the corners off and threw the dirty linens in a corner to take away later.
After a couple minutes there were new, clean sheets and blankets on Peter's bed, and finally the boy was able to lie down. Peter climbed up onto the mattress and pulled the blankets over his shoulders silently, sleep tugging at his eyelids.
"I'm gonna go get you some medicine, okay? Hang tight, hotshot." Tony said, jogging off to grab the right items Peter needed and coming back with more than he intended.
He put a cool rag on his forehead and managed to wipe some of the sweat from the fever away. Then gently led a glass of water to the boy's lips, helping him take the medicine that would hopefully settle his stomach and bring down the high fever the thermometer discovered.
After he was sure Peter was asleep, he leant down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, "night kiddo, feel better." He whispered, then carefully went back to his own room, ensuring Peter's door stayed cracked in case he needed anything else.
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Peter woke up, once again, sick to his stomach.
This time, he was in his old room. He wandered out down the comfortable hallways of his old apartment to where May's room was. He didn't know if she was at work or not, he just knew he needed her.
"May?" He called out, knocking lightly on her door.
He didn't receive an answer.
"May, I don't feel good." He swallowed, knocking a little harder, clumsily fishing into his pockets when he didn't get an answer and pressing her contact.
His feverish brain took the voicemail dial as a pickup, "May, are you at work?" He asked weakly, feeling a shiver travel down his spine as his stomach twisted.
No voice spoke back.
"May, I can't hear you." He said into the phone speaker, "I don't feel good. Can you come home?" He asked weakly, feeling like he might vomit right then and there, but he felt so lost and weak.
His phone fell to his side as he hiccuped, "May? May where are you?" He called out, his eyes welling up with tears. His vision was spinning and he really didn't know where he was anymore, everything was hazy and his home suddenly felt like somewhere different.
But then her hand was on his back, and she was there for him. His doubts left, she was always there when he needed her.
"Hey, Pete, I'm here it's okay, let's go to the bathroom, alright?" She said, guiding him quickly to the toilet.
"My s'mch hurts." He groaned as she helped him to lean over the bowl.
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Tony didn't wake up to his own name being called, instead he woke up to a poor voice calling out the name May, and he knew he hadn't been hearing things earlier like he'd thought.
He heard knocking on a distant wall, and quickly got out of bed to go find the sick kid. When he finally found him, he had wandered to a random hallway full of guest rooms and he was standing centered in the corridor, calling his deceased Aunt's name, scared and pale.
"Hey, Pete, I'm here, it's okay, let's go to the bathroom, alright?" He coaxed, quickly leading the boy there.
Once they were safely over the toilet, Stark was quick to comb his fingers through the boy's hair and offer him comforting words, hoping that his voice would bring the boy back to the present day.
After he'd vomited a couple more times, it was back to laying in his mentor's arms, though Peter fully believed his head was in the lap of his Aunt. Tony knew this, and he hurt for the kid.
"There you go bubs, you've got it." He said, carefully tucking another sweaty curl behind his kid's ear, "do you feel any better?"
"May?" He asked weakly, sitting up slightly, and then gagged abruptly. Tony quickly sat him up over the toilet as he heaved again, "May, don'feel good." He groaned, almost a whine, but Tony could tell that he felt beyond unwell and wasn't sure what to do.
"How about I call Bruce?" He offered as Peter swallowed awkwardly, "we'll get him to come help, it's late but I'm sure he'd be here if we asked."
"May?" He asked weakly, his vision beginning to clear a bit as he turned to Tony. Nothing was making sense.
"Mr. Stark where's May?" He asked, "where'm'i?"
"You're at the tower, kiddo." Tony said softly, trying not to let him down too harshly. Peter still felt like he'd been dropped off a 40 story building onto concrete as a wave of memories ran over him like a bus.
"Oh." He mumbled as tears came flying over his eyelids and down his cheeks. And then he was sobbing.
Tony was quick to wipe the boy's mouth with a folded square of toilet paper, and then pull him into a full on hug. Peter's head was tucked in the crook of Tony's neck and his arms were tucked up to the man's chest as he was wrapped in firm cuddle.
Tony leant back against the wall, next to the door as Peter cried and cried. The entire time Tony sat there and rubbed his back, offering him comforting words.
"I miss her." He sobbed, too delirious and upset to really understand what was happening around him. All he knew was his sorrow. All he knew was his grief. All he knew was the sickness that was rampaging through his body like a swarm of angry wasps on a weak, unassuming old man.
"I know, bud. I know." He agreed as Peter sobbed impossibly harder into his shoulder.
Sometimes he forgot that Peter is just a kid. With the amount the boy had gone through, how could he expect him to keep acting like everything was fine? Of course he felt like shit, and it was all melting down now. He felt like he was caring for a newborn rather than a high schooler.
But Tony cared for him nonetheless.
He carried the boy to bed.
He fed him more medicine.
He helped him sip his water and nibble on crackers.
He laid with the boy until he felt comforted enough to fall asleep again, and once he'd fallen asleep, Tony made sure to ask Friday to alert him immediately if Peter woke up again, and to schedule an appointment with Banner first thing the next morning.
"I love you, kiddo. Feel better." Tony said, tucking his becoming-son a little farther under the covers, believing he was asleep under the cool rag that covered his eyes, but just as he was about to walk out he heard the softest, oh so softest,
"I love you too."
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Largely unedited
A mess
But the concept was cute
Idk if I executed it well, but I hope 😁😁👍