Iron Dad One Shots (mcu)

Most Wonderful Time of the Year

A/N: Requested by @AgentRed1313.

***

Today might be the worst day of Peter's life.

May was trapped in a snowstorm in Jersey. Which -- fine. He'd had Christmas without May before. She was a hard worker, and sometimes she had to work. That was okay. He had Ben.

Only. Now he didn't.

This was the first Christmas without Ben, and now he didn't even have May. He was stuck, alone, in his tiny apartment.

And he was fucking sick with the flu.

Again, not the first time it's happened. He'd been sick on Christmas. But then he could curl up in bed as May opened his presents for him and Ben made chicken noodle soup. Then he could relax and watch Star Wars all day as he took his cough medicine.

Now he couldn't.

He was on the floor of his room, tears falling down his face. His head felt like it was about to explode, his bones ached, his stomach churned, he couldn't do anything but curl up on the floor and wish he was dead. Now, that's a little dramatic -- but, come on. It was Christmas, and he was like this. It must have been hours, the hardwood floor printing itself on his arm. Mercifully, he was able to fit in a few minutes of sleep here and there. But then he'd wake up and realize this was not in fact a bad dream of his childhood. Nope, he was sick and dying during the most wonderful time of the year.

Then, someone knocked on the door.

Peter didn't know what to make of that. There was no way May had made it back so fast, but maybe she'd gotten lucky. After all, he hadn't checked on her in half an hour. Maybe she was home, and this suffering could be over.

But then again, if it wasn't May, some poor, unsuspecting victim would have to see him like this. Probably a neighbor just wanted to drop something off, or concerned about the amount of soft sobbing coming from their apartment.

He shakily stood up from the floor, avoiding the mix of snot, drool and tears on the floor and stumbling to the front door. His stomach didn't like that, it decided, and he had to swallow down the bile rising in his throat as he leaned onto the wall for support. He wiped at his face, as if that would help with his flushed face, red nose and dark circles around his eyes. He reached for the door and slowly opened it.

"Kid...?"

"Mr. S-Stark?"

Tony had a big present with a shiny red bow taped on top in his hands, his sunglasses hiding the astonishment on his face.

Peter must have looked worse than he thought.

"Hey, Mr. Stark..." He muttered, backing up so Tony had space to get in.

He walked in, setting the gift down on the coffee table. "Kid, what the hell happened? You look like a train hit you."

He sniffled and shrugged, looking away. "Nothin'... M'jusd a liddle sick."

He scoffed and cupped Peter's face in his hands to get a better look. Peter was basically a ragdoll, so his body just moved whichever way Tony moved him.

"Jesus..." He murmured, wrapping his arm around Peter' shoulder. "Where's May?"

He hummed as his mind tried to string together and answer. "Jersey."

If he was going to ask more, he must. Have decided not to. "Here, lay down."

Peter fumbled a bit to lay on the couch, head on a pillow. He felt a soft blanket being placed over him, and he immediately cuddled into it, looking for warmth. There was a hand in his hair, playing with his curls and petting his head. Peter loved the soft touch, but he was too delirious to say so.

There were a few moments of silence, then Tony spoke up again. "You really went all out for Christmas, huh?"

Peter knew what he meant. That Stark irony was unmistakable. "Couldn't afford a tree..." He muttered, pulling the blanket over his face. "Whas wid the box?"

"A Chrstmas present, for the Parkers..." He huffed. "But I guess that's not important right now."

He sniffled and buried his face in the pillow, coughing. "Thanks for thinkin' of us..."

He sighed and sat by Peter's feet. "I'll call May, make sure she's okay."

He nodded and yawned, the world started to face to black. "Th'nks."

There was a moment of silence before he spoke up again, even though it was hell on his throat. "Mr. S'ark?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Are you gonna stay wid me?"

He heard a sigh from the other side of the couch.

"Sure, kid. I'll be here when you wake up."

He hummed. "Yay." He cheered quietly, before drifting off to sleep.