Tony sighed as he dragged his polished shoes into the elevator of the tower. A whole day of press conferences and board meetings definitely took a lot out a person, even a businessman like Tony Stark.
He had been itching to get back home all day, ever since the first of the snot-nosed reporters had begun on their usual rampage of shooting out accusations and false statements. It wasn't really because of that though, Tony had to deal with the press nearly every day of the week.
No, today, Tony wanted to rush home to look after his son.
Last night, 12 year old Peter had come down with a horrible stomach flu, and got little to no sleep due to the aches and pain. It was a chilling experience, hearing FRIDAY alert him that his young child woke up again, probably the 5th time that night, only to hear him dash to the nearest bathroom and empty his stomach. By the time Tony made it to Peter's bathroom, he was already back in his bed, shivering under his covers, with beads of sweat trickling down his head. After Peter had retched for the fifth time that night, Tony decided to stay in Peter's room to hopefully aid Peter in getting some sleep that night.
Tony had tried to counter the quiet sniffles, and almost inaudible whimpers that came out of his son's mouse, with hushed whispers of comfort and reassurance.
'Shh, Peter, it's alright, Daddy's here, you're going to be alright Bambi,'
Eventually, Peter managed to drift off into a sleep he wouldn't awake from that night, and then, and only then, did Tony allow oblivion to take him as well.
That next morning, Tony had to do a full day of press and meetings, which no matter how much Tony threatened to not go or to sue them, he couldn't get out of. Eventually he decided he had to go, because if the press found out that Tony didn't go because his son was sick, they would have a field day, and the genius didn't want those vultures to even mention his son, he wanted Peter to have some sort of privacy in his life, the privacy he never got in his childhood.
His heart ached when he saw the reaction of his son when he said he had to leave, the silent nod and beginnings of tears in his eyes showing his reluctance but acceptance of his fathers departure from him for that day. Tony gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead, and with a quiet, "I'll be back as soon as I can, Petey," he was out the door, leaving Peter alone with only the voice of FRIDAY as company.
When Peter saw his dad leave out the elevator, he was understanding of his dad's reasons for leaving. He knew that if his dad could get out of leaving today he would have- and his dad can usually get out of anything he wants to, so these meeting must be important.
Peter curled in on himself, completely smothered with blankets, and completely alone. He had watched a few movies, but those kept getting interrupted by him needing to empty his stomach, but Peter hadn't eaten anything that day, and was only retching up his stomach acids, which there was little of now too.
Peter thought that he probably got 2-3 hours of sleeps tops last night, and that was pushing it. He remembered waking up constantly with the overwhelming urge to just sprint to the bathroom, and after he had emptied his stomach contents going back to his bed where he would be freezing, feeling cool sweat run down his head, dampening his hair and making him feel gross. After what was like the 4th or 5th time, Peter remembered another presence in his bed, a welcoming body that offered comfort and warmth-His dad. He didn't remembered much after his father came in, so him being there must have helped him sleep.
Peter tried to imagine what his father would be doing right now, hearing him roll his eyes at a reporters ridiculous statements, or even tell them to f-off if they mention something too personal, or accuse him of something way too ridiculous and out-there to bee considered the truth.
If his dad was at a meeting right now, he would probably have his sunglasses on, playing the part of a careless, billionaire, ex-playboy, putting up an act of inputting in on the conversation, but really just waiting to get the hell out of here.
Whenever Peter had to wait outside a meeting for his dad, he always laughed whenever his dad came out, because he always got them out of the building straight away, saying things like "Do those airheads think that people actually care what they say," or "My dad's lectures were more interesting then that," making Peter giggle and roll his eyes, and that always put a warm smile onto his father's face.
Which brought him back to reality. When his dad left the meeting today, he would not get to go home with Peter, he would just have to go to another one, then a press conference, then another meeting, then another meeting - it would be hell.
God, Peter just wanted his dad to come home.
The billionaire's son was too scared to sleep. Although he knew that he had got barely any last night, the sleep he did get were always full of terror and pain, and always resulted with him waking up and needing to retch. So he tried to outlast the tiredness threatening to consume him, and stayed awake for as long as his young, sick, self could manage.
When it got to about 1:30, Peter couldn't stay alert any longer. The darkness clouding his vision had become too overpowering, and the sickness and lack of sleep eventually took its toll on the young boy. With a final sigh of defeat, Peter let himself fall into oblivion, praying that by the time he awoke, his father would be here with him.
9 hours later
When Peter finally awoke from his slumber, he instantly knew that his dad was home. The room smelled of his warming overworked scent, and the house felt less empty.
The child opened his eyes fully to take in his surroundings, and noticed that he had been moved from the couch into his own bed. He looked for his dad, panic stricken that he wasn't here, and his eyes drifted over to his father's figure slumped in a chair sitting next to Peter's bed-asleep.
Peter decided that it would be best not to wake his father, after all he had had a long day at work and deserved a break, but his attempts were futile as his dads eyes slowly started to open up after hearing the shifting of his son's frame.
"Mhmm... Peter?" His dad croaked out.
"Daddy? You're back," Peter couldn't help the tears that came to his eyes. He knew he was wayyy to old for this kind of baby action, but he had been stricken by nightmares and sickness all day, and he just wanted his father to hold him.
"Of course I came back Bambi, you're my little boy," With that I instantly sat up and went to lurch forward to hug him, but the overwhelming dizziness stopped me, and he gave a whimper 'again with the baby stuff- ughhh' Peter thought. His dad didn't seem to mind though.
"Petey, in case you haven't noticed, you're still kind of sick, kiddo. I can't have you getting any worse,"
"Sorry, Dad," Peter ducked his head, and Tony's head instantly started screaming with guilt.
"Oh no, kiddo, its okay, don't be upset. I'm here now, I'll look after you. I'll probably need to call Bruce up though," he added with a smirk.
"That's fine, Daddy, as long as you'll still be here." Peter knew the this was being a bit selfish, and his dad would probably have other places to be again, but once again his father put him out of his doubt with another hushed reassurance, just like he does every time.
"Don't even worry about me leaving you Petey. Believe me, nothing is going to stop me now from staying here and helping you getting better."
With that, father and son shared a hug, and all problems were pushed aside, Tony shielding his son from the world if only for a moment.
Miraculously, Peter was better by the end of that week, as if the mere presence of his father and protector had helped him find a way to overcome the sickness weighing him down.
That was how Peter knew, that even through the hard times, his mentor and father would help him out of it. Always.
End ;)