I'm so sorry, I just saw there was a huge problem, there wasn't any space between the words... I hope it looks better now!
Hey there! I'm happy to present you my first fanfiction, which focuses on the father / son relationship that Tony and Peter share, because I'm in love with the world of Marvel Cinematic Universe and I've been dreaming for a long time to write about them.
This story also exists in French, which in the version I'll update first considering that it it my native language ;)
Please tell me if you spot any mistake! I do not own any of Marvel's characters.
Enjoy!
-000-
Being a Stark had a lot of advantages, that's what Tony liked to think. He had inherited the intellectual abilities of his father, who had founded the family reputation. He had been in the best schools that ever existed, even if he had not learned much, and had never lacked anything, if not a little more love from his father. Iron Man had also proved himself, and the armor gave him an irreplaceable sense of freedom, giving him especially a source of occupation and comfort when nightmares began to become too recurrent or the problems that were now part of his daily life got a bit too bulky. Well, of course, there were the press eagerly waiting for any mistake, the (often clumsy) attempts of kidnapping or murder, betrayals, disappointments, in short all the disadvantages brought by celebrity and the super-hero status. There had been Afghanistan, Obadiah, Hammer, Mandarin, Ultron, Sokovia, Ross, the war. He had thought he'd found friends, a family, and then lost them because he was unable to maintain healthy relationships with those around him; he couldn't help but ruin everything. The life of a Stark was far from perfect. However, Tony preferred to think, mainly in an attempt to convince himself, that all these adventures had helped to prepare him to any single situation, and that he could, in any case, keep the control over what was happening. Apparently, he was wrong. He would never have thought of having to add "Taking care of a sick teenager" to his list of skills.
The evening had begun normally, though. As every Friday, at the end of the afternoon, Peter Parker had to join him at the compound that used to be the Avengers' base, and in which Tony was living since their disbandment. It was May Parker who had suggested (or rather imposed) this weekly appointment after having discovered her nephew's extracurricular activity (seriously, that kid was really awful at keeping secrets). He was supposed to train him, improve his suit and teach him the hazards of a super-hero life. Peter was certainly not a novice anymore, but he didn't have solid basics yet, and anyway Tony would have never dared to protest his aunt's decision. That woman could be scary.
The boy had arrived around five with Happy, and the billionaire had assimilated his shiny eyes and unusual silence to the excitation and infatuation that Peter was feeling during his visits. Favoring exercise to theory, Tony preferred to take his protégé to the training room, in which they sometimes locked themselves for hours, losing track of time because of the trials they invented and challenges they threw at each other (even if Peter was almost always the winner). This time was no exception, and Tony moved towards the gym with a playfulness he would have denied if someone had pointed it to him. This room was vast, even bigger than the Parker's apartment, and even had a bathroom, a kitchen and a rest area, furnished with fancy chairs and sofas.
It was after several minutes of training that he understood something was wrong. Despite the fact that Peter was capering, and that he still jumped as high and ran as fast as usual, he was winding much more quickly, and looked quite pale. After running on a treadmill adapted to his enhanced abilities, the young man was now lifting weights of several dozen pounds, something he could normally do without any difficulty.
"Is everything alright, Underoos?" he asked. "You look like you're getting tired."
"I'm fine, Mister Stark! I.. I think I have a stitch. By the way, did you… did you change the weights? Just asking. They seem… they seem heavier."
Despite his answer, the teenager was panting, and his attempt to deflect the conversation was everything but subtle. They kept on practicing for a few minutes, until the moment Peter, drenched in sweat, faltered when he tried to get up. Tony rolled his eyes, mentally sighing at the boy's inability to lie, and stated:
"Let's take a fifteen minutes break. Go sit on the sofa there, I'll go take something to drink. Non-negotiable," he added when he saw Peter opening his mouth to protest.
He obeyed, nodding softly, and let himself fall on the cushions with relief. He closed his eyes, and Tony took this opportunity to go to the kitchen take two cold water bottles from the fridge. He came back not even a minute later, but the boy was nearly sleeping. When his mentor sat next to him, he opened his hazel eyes, which had a strange sparkle, and blinked a few times, looking at him in confusion. He apparently hadn't heard him. He accepted with a slightly shaking hand the water bottle he was offered.
"Hey," he croaked weakly, and gulped some water.
"Hey yourself, kid," the mechanic retorted. "What's the matter? Even a ghost would look better than you."
"Really, Mister Stark, I'm fine. I probably just caught a cold, and now that the adrenaline rush is gone, I'm feeling sleepy.
"In that case, why didn't you stay at home? I doubt that your aunt would have let you come here knowing your condition."
"I was feeling better earlier," Peter replied, shrugging. "And I didn't want to miss the training session."
"Ah, right, because fainting is a part of your training, my bad," the inventor taunted.
He didn't get an answer but felt quite satisfied when he saw his mentee blushing, before frowning as he remembered that it wasn't probably only because of embarrassment.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y? Can you give me his vitals?" Tony asked.
"Of course, Sir," the artificial intelligence answered smoothly. "It would appear that Mister Parker suffers from mild tachycardia, and his body temperature now rises to 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit. Shivers and headaches can also be expected. Theses symptoms correspond to the flu. Would you like me to call a doctor?
Peter looked as bewildered as Tony when they learnt about his condition.
"But I didn't feel feverish this morning..." he mumbled.
"What would you advise us? Maybe we can cope on our own."
"It would be preferable to rest and drink regularly. You should also call a doctor, so they can confirm the symptoms and optimize the healing. Medicinal drugs will have an extremely little effet on your body because of your enhanced metabolism. Please don't ingest anything before receiving a professional's opinion, Mister Parker.
"Got it, F.R.I," the patient agreed with a raspy voice.
"Is someone free right now?" demanded the billionaire. A trustworthy doctor who could keep quiet about Peter?
"Doctor Helen Cho is currently in the compound and affirmed that she could come here as soon as needed."
"Perfect. Ask her to come."
"All right, Sir."
Meanwhile, Tony felt lost. What was he supposed to do while waiting for Cho? Should he make Peter lay down? Prevent him from sleeping? Make him eat? He glanced toward him, and saw that he seemed uncomfortable. He got the feeling that he knew why.
"Helen Cho is an incredible scientific and physician," he explained, trying to appease the boy. "She healed the Avengers several times, so I think that a case of flu, even concerning a spider-kid, won't surprise her that much. Moreover, she's already aware of your powers, and I trust her. You can trust her too. It's that simple, really."
And everybody knew that, nowadays, the only people he entirely trust could be counted on his fingers. Peter blushed even more, this time clearly feeling self-conscious. He coughed a bit and blurted:
"I know, Mister Stark, but… I'm sorry for bothering you with that, alright? I mean, it's stupid because I should be-"
"Let me stop you immediately, Peter, because your fever is probably throwing you off. Who doesn't ever get sick? Everybody does. I'm sure that even Captain America can get sick. Well, actually I have no idea, with this serum of his, but you know what I mean. There's nothing stupid."
"But we were supposed to train!" Peter cried. "That's what May imposed so that I could keep being Spider-Man during my spare time! And I don't have any-"
"We still can do another form of exercise. There aren't only looks, after all," Tony reminded with a wink as he tapped lightly his temple.
Peter rolled his eyes but couldn't stop himself from snorting, which quickly transformed in a dry cough. He was about to add something when a door behind them opened, and the two super-heroes turned to see Helen Cho entering the gym. She smiled kindly.
"Hi, Stark," she saluted. "It seems that I got a new patient, right?"
She turned to the teenager, who waved shyly at her, and added:
"Let's see, Peter, isn't it? Could you describe me how you feel? F.R.I.D.A.Y already told me, but I'd like to hear it again.
"Uh, listen, that's really kind of you, but I don't have any money..." Peter whispered, aghast.
The doctor stayed silent for a few seconds, blinking rapidly as if to try to clear out the sudden confusion she was feeling, and glanced at Tony, who, flabbergasted, was having a hard time trying to keep a straight face. He chuckled, and once he was certain his voice wouldn't betray his surge to cackle, he placed his hand on Peter's shoulder and looked him in the eye:
"Tell me, you didn't believe I would ask you to pay for this consultation, did you? Cho's my employee. She's paid, so you don't have to worry about it."
"Very well paid," beamed Helen. "Feeling better?"
"Ye-yes", he stammered. "Sorry."
His face had reddened again, and this was beginning to get quite common. He coughed heavily, eyed his mentor and explained hoarsely:
"Actually, this morning I was feeling good, I just had a runny nose and a sore throat. It got worse during school. Now I have a headache, but not too important, and my body aches." He cleared his throat. "And I cough."
"Are you hot? Cold? Does something else hurt?" Tony inquired, worried.
"Tony," the doctor scolded gently.
"Sorry. You're the pro. I'll be quiet."
Peter decided to intervene and explained that, no, nothing else hurt, and that he was toggling between being hot and cold. Helen palpated his throat near his tonsils, to detect a potential infection, took his pulse and temperature, listened to his breathing and asked him to cough. After a few minutes, she stowed away her tools and reported:
"F.R.I.D.A.Y was right, it is indeed a case of flu. Not that this is surprising in itself" she added with a smirk for Tony before he replied snarkily, knowing he would said something about his robot obviously being one of the best.
The billionaire shrugged, grinning, and asked:
"So, what do we do? Is there any medicine to help him feel better?"
"Considering Peter's metabolism, nothing would be strong enough to be effective," Cho explained. "A flu will last for a few days at the most, so the best thing to do would be to rest a lot, and drink and eat often in order to gain strength. Peter, if you don't feel hungry, chicken broth will be enough."
"Thank you, Helen," Tony sighed.
"You're welcome, Stark. I need to leave, I still have work to do, but don't hesitate to call me if you need my help."
"Thanks, ma'am," Peter articulated softly.
He got a warm smile and the doctor left the gym. A comfortable silence fell in the room, until the two super-heroes suddenly exchanged a worried glance as they remembered a very important detail.
May.
"She going to freak out if she sees me like this," said the teenager, even though Tony was already aware of that.
"I know. We could call her to tell her the truth and explain that it would be for the best if you stayed here to sleep this night. Or the whole week-end.
"I would… sleep here?"
"Of course, kid. You really thought that it would be a good idea for you to get home in your state? F.R.I.D.A.Y and Helen already told you, no medicine will be efficient, and if your condition worsen you'll be better taken care of here.
"Mister Stark, you know, you really don't have to do all of this for me! I mean, I've already been ill before, and, of course May was worried! But we always managed to get by and-" Peter stopped to cough. "And I'm sure I'll be fine!"
His voice was broken, his forehead sweaty, his eyes were still shining (but now Tony knew it was because of the fever) and he was panting even though he was only talking for a few seconds. The mechanic rose a dubious eyebrow.
"You're saying that you've already been sick after getting your powers?"
"No," confessed the kid, turning red.
"Then you'll spend the night at the compound. I'll call your aunt."
Peter couldn't stop himself from grinning.
"Good luck to talk her into letting me stay here, then."
"Don't question my persuasiveness, kiddo."
"I didn't say anything of the sort, Mister Stark."
"Could it be sarcasm? Be careful, Peter, I could replace the next training session by a very intensive class about road legislation. Who knows, Spider-Man could discover himself a passion in road safety. It's really important, after all.
"Very funny, Mister Stark," the teenager pouted, but still showing a discreet smile. "Hilarious."
"I know, right? That's one of my best assets. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a quite important mission to accomplish. Try to sleep, alright?"
"Okay."
Tony stood up from the sofa, and headed slowly towards the exit, giving Peter a last peek before getting out of the room, and gently closed the door after seeing that his protégé was now lying down and had closed his eyes.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y," the inventor murmured, "Let me know if Peter's condition changes in any way."
"Understood, Sir."
He walked away from the gym, soon ending up in one of the spacious living rooms of the compound, and sat down in a chair while getting his mobile phone from his pocket. He sighed as he stared for a long time at May Parker's name and phone number.
He prayed that she would be in a good mood and tapped on the "Call" button.
000
About twenty minutes later, as Tony was getting back to the gym where he had left Peter, he was still quite dumbfounded at how easy it had been to convince the young man's aunt to let him sleep at the compound. Of course, during the first two minutes of the conversation, she had freaked out, fearing the worst, but had easily calmed down and had let Tony explain himself; it wasn't like the poor woman often received a phone call from Stark himself.
He had to admit that, for once, the fact that she knew about Peter's abilities had made everything easier. She had immediately understood that, without the possibility of using any medicine, Peter could heal way better at the compound, surrounded by the best staff that could ever exist. That's why she accepted Peter spending the week-end with him, however imposing two conditions (and, obviously, she hadn't given way to any negotiation; the contrary would have surprised Tony): Peter and himself would had to give her news at least three times a day, and would see her on the Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon. He had agreed easily, knowing that any form of protestation would have backfired on him.
The forty-year-old opened the door with precaution, trying not to make any sound. He got closer to the sofa, to discover the teenager asleep, huddled up on himself and beads of sweats rolling down his face. He was breathing loudly, unknowing that his mentor had returned.
"Mister Parker's body temperature rose to 101.5 degrees Fahrenheit while you were speaking with Mrs Parker," announced quietly the artificial intelligence who had anticipated its creator's question. He bit back a sigh, not wanting to take the risk of waking Peter up, and moved away from him once again.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y?" He asked meekly once he had put several meters of distance between himself and the boy. "What should I do? Wake him up?"
"I believe it would be best to let him sleep, Sir. You can however bring him a blanket and a pillow. You can find some in cupboards, in the living room located at the north-west of the compound. Do you want me to make someone bring these to you?"
"I'll do it myself. Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y."
"You're welcome, Sir." The robotic voice answered fondly.
Tony shook his head, snorting and wondering since when his artificial intelligence was that expressive, and let himself be guided to the desired cupboards. He took two blankets and a pillow that he stuck with difficulty under his arms, and got back to his patient's side. The latter hadn't moved a bit, so the mechanic took this opportunity to cover the teenager gently with the two soft and fluffy blankets, and slid with prudence the pillow under his head. Peter didn't open his eyes, but a blissful sigh escaped from his lips. He shifted, hugging one of the blanket as if it was a stuffed toy.
At this sight, a strange but pleasant feeling appeared in Tony's stomach. Without really understanding why, he couldn't stop himself from to place his hand on the kid's forehead. He kneeling near him, running tenderly his fingers through the younger's brown curls, and wiped the sweat off his face, frowning as he felt the unusual heat emanating from the skin.
Shaking his head, he stood up and let himself fall in a chair next to the boy.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y, let me know if he wakes up or if his condition worsen."
"Understood."
He tried to work on his phone for a while before giving up the idea, preferring to turn his attention to the sleeping silhouette, and buried under the thick blankets. He turned his phone off, focusing on the now regular breaths escaping from the sheets and attempted to count them.
He never made it to fifty.
000
"Mister Parker is beginning to show signs of awakening, Sir." F.R.I.D.A.Y announced softly.
Tony abruptly opened his eyes. The room was plunged in darkness, Peter was still lying on the sofa and the only noises that could be heard were the ones made by their breathing.
"I fell asleep?"
"Indeed, Sir," the artificial intelligence confirmed.
He blinked several times, trying to clear his mind. That was a first. Not only he was falling asleep whereas he was supposed to take care of Peter, but moreover he couldn't even remember the last time he had felt that rested after sleeping. No nightmare had come to haunt him.
"What time is it?" Tony asked, in a still sleepy voice.
Maybe he would have to change his furniture so he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Or maybe he should rather replace his bed by this armchair, who apparently had also the same effect than a dream-catcher.
"It is currently nine and thirty-six in the evening. Your nap lasted for about four hours and appeared to be quite beneficial for you, Sir." F.R.I.D.A.Y declared in an amused tone.
He rolled his eyes, and looked at Peter, who was indeed beginning to move more. His eyes opened slowly, still sleepy, and glanced at his mentor.
"M'ster Stark?" he enunciated with difficulty.
"How are you feeling? You slept for about four hours."
He willingly forgot to specify that he had also fell asleep. The teenager could have a fever, he was still able to imagine that the forty-year-old was finding him boring and had dozed off. Peter made a grimace.
"I've been better. I'm hot," he said.
"It's probably because of your fever, so stay covered," Tony calmly ordered as he brushed his fingers against the teen's forehead.
He didn't have to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to know that his fever had once more gotten up. He sighed in discontentment.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y, can't we give him for his fever? It's still rising!"
"Doctor Cho was sure about this, Sir. Nothing would be efficient."
"I'm sorry," the patient mumbled, his voice as raspy as earlier.
He sounded sheepish, as if he believed himself to be guilty of the situation he was currently in, and thought he was constraining Tony to take care of him. The latter rose an eyebrow.
"Can ask you why? I thought we already had this little discussion."
"My enhanced body makes everything harder and… and I'm wasting your time when you probably have a lot of really important things to do, because..." He stopped to cough. "Because you're always super busy, and you should be working or resting, because I'm sure you don't relax often, and instead, you're taking care of a sick teenager that isn't even able to watch out for himself, because even before the spider bite it was May who had to watch me when I wasn't feeling well and-
"Breathe, kid," Tony chided, grinning. "You're fifteen, and-"
"Sixteen," Peter weakly protested.
"Sixteen so it's normal that people still take care of you when you're sick, don't you think? And I'm certain that I already told you that everyone had the right to fall ill once in a while. Also, at his hour, I'm never sleeping, but I'm rather tinkering in my workshop, and, you know, it changes from my daily routine. I hate when my life is too predictable."
"But-"
"No buts."
"Mister Stark, I-"
"I said no. Do you want me to feed you like we feed young children? I can even make plane noises if you'd like me to."
Peter lowered his head with a grimace, biting back his protestations and blushing furiously.
"That's what I thought," the mechanic snickered. "F.R.I.D.A.Y? Is there anything suitable for Peter to eat in the fridge?"
"I asked someone to bring chicken broth while Mister Parker was resting," the robot answered easily who, for its creator's greatest pleasure, didn't mention that Tony had also slept a bit. "You just have to warm it up in the microwave."
"Perfect. Peter, stay down, I'll be right back.
He got up and stretched, his muscles still stiff form the unexpected nap; he was getting to old to sleep comfortably in an armchair or a sofa. The white locks that scattered his hair were a constant reminder, even if most of them were caused by the stress induced by everything concerning his super-hero job.
He opened the fridge, and noticed a tightly closed bowl of broth, as well as some sandwiches and a few water bottles that weren't there four hours ago.
"I also asked for something to eat for you too, Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y intervened coolly.
"I see. Are some of the sandwiches also for Peter?"
"Yes, but Mister Parker may not feel hungry. He shouldn't force himself to eat, however he should be able to ingest the broth easily without getting nausea.
"Hum."
He took a water bottle and two sandwiches that he posed on a table behind him, then reached for the broth, placing it in the microwave. He closed it, and touched the different buttons with his fingertip, unsure of what settings he had to choose. If he didn't make the soup warm for long enough or at a too low temperature, it would remain cold, and knowing himself he would end up making the broth boiling hot. He was a mechanic, not a cook! He didn't mind burning his tongue anymore, he had done it enough times when he drank coffee to be used to it; but he didn't want to do the same to the kid silently waiting for him.
"One minute at the maximal power should be enough to warm the broth up to an ideal temperature," commented F.R.I.D.A.Y once again, as if it was having fun watching the inventor struggling with basic tasks.
"You're a genius, F.R.I." Tony answered, following the instructions he had just received.
"Glad to be able to help you, Sir."
His lips twitched, betraying the shadow of a smile, and waited for the familiar "ding!" to pick the bowl and the victuals on the table, then came back to Peter. He had the nagging impression that he had forgot something, but couldn't manage to remember what. He decided to put this thought aside for a bit.
"Are you hungry?"
But the young man shook his head, looking sorry.
"I don't think I'll be able to swallow anything right now, Mister Stark, or I'll probably throw up. I'm sorry."
"You have to eat something, kid. And, I beg of you, stop apologizing. At least, try to drink the broth.
"Sor- I mean, alright. I'll try."
"Good."
Tony offered him the bowl, and sat in the chair he had fell asleep earlier, willing not to fall in the same strap twice. Then he remembered what he had forgotten.
"A spoon," he grunted, "that's right."
He stood up yet again, and gazed at Peter.
"Or maybe you'd like a straw?"
"I'm pretty okay with everything, sir," the boy alleged with a smile that illuminated his pale and sweaty face, "thank you."
He dashed back to the kitchen and gave him a spoon, then settled in the armchair, a groan escaping his mouth. He devoured a sandwich, slightly surprised that he hadn't been aware to be that hungry before, and verified that Peter was managing to drink the hot liquid without any problem. He seemed to be taking his sweet time, gulping gradually as if fearing that his stomach wouldn't be able to bear the beverage.
"Does it feel good?" Tony asked him.
The teen nodded, and the billionaire felt a churning feeling in the pit of his stomach as he mused over the fact that it was probably the first time Peter was so quiet with him. He was beginning to miss his babbling. The sick boy reached for the coffee table near the sofa and put his now empty bowl down. He smiled.
"Thank you, I feel better now," he affirmed, visibly grateful but not really being convincing.
"You're welcome, kid," replied Tony with a smirk, "But you should rather thank F.R.I.D.A.Y, I almost didn't do anything."
"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y!"
"At your service, Mister Parker. Could I suggest you a shower?"
"She's right," the mechanic agreed, "You'll feel better after a nice shower, and it'll be more pleasant to sleep."
"Are you sure you don't mind? Alright, alright," he added precipitately as he spotted his hero rolling his eyes, "I'll take one, thank you."
He rose up carefully, Tony ready to jump and steady him if he was to fall, and got close to the bathroom, before looking expectantly at him and opening his mouth to speak. The forty-year-old grinned, and pulled the rug from under him cheekily.
"There are spare clothes, towels and soap in the cupboard inside," he said.
"Thanks," Peter croaked, embarrassed.
He closed the bathroom door, and Tony let a sigh he wasn't aware of until now slip from his mouth. He steadied himself against the wall, alert and listening to every noise he could hear. He trusted F.R.I.D.A.Y to tell him if there was a problem but liked to reassure himself that his patient wouldn't be clumsy enough to hurt himself because of his condition… Or because of his usual bad luck. He heard water flowing during a few minutes, and then everything was silent for a while. The mechanic was now expecting the teenager to come out of the bathroom at any moment by now, but he suddenly heard a yelp, followed by a thud.
His heart pounding, he rushed inside, and saw Peter sitting down on the bare floor, apparently a little groggy.
"I slipped on the floor," he explained.
That spider-kid was going to be the death of him.
000
"What time is it?"
"Almost ten."
"Oh."
"As you say."
"Usually..." Peter trailed, hesitating to continue, "I'm patrolling at this hour."
"Do you really think that I'm going to let you wander off in the streets this evening?"
"No, no, but… what if someone needed help? What if something happened? That would be my fault."
Tony kept silent for a while, staring weirdly at this protégé, who quickly grew uncomfortable and swiped the sweat from his forehead.
"I-I'm s-sorry, forget it, Mister Stark," he stammered, blushing.
The inventor tilted his head and felt an unusual but sincere smile stretch on his face, which seemed to unsettled the kid, though it didn't appear to displease him.
"And would you feel better," Tony suddenly blurted, "if I were to send my armor outside for a patrol to see if everything's alright?"
He didn't hear an answer, but Peter's eyes widened comically and a large smile appeared; he nodded to accept the mechanic's proposition so frantically that the latter got scared for several seconds that he would hurt himself.
"That would be… That would be awesome, Mister Stark!" He cried happily. "Thank you, thank you so much! You won't regret it."
"I certainly hope so," retorted the self-proclaimed philanthropist with a wink. "Let's calm down and go to sleep, okay? Do you want me to prepare a room for you? There are many of them at our disposition. I don't want you to drop from exhaustion in front of your aunt, she would kill me and you know it."
Peter snorted, probably imagining the scene, but shook his head and lied down on the sofa, where he had slept earlier. He tugged his blankets up to his neck, and let his head rest on the soft pillow.
"I like this sofa. It's really comfy, even more than my own bed, you know. You don't need to prepare a room just for me, I'll be fine here."
"When you're healed, remind be to buy you a new bed. And, alright for sleeping here tonight, but it's only because I don't want you to get up again and risk to hurt yourself. Tomorrow you'll sleep in a real bed, in a real bedroom."
"Okay, Mister Stark," Peter acknowledged, laughing. "You should rest too, or you'll also end up sick like me."
"Don't worry about me, Underoos, I can take care of myself," Tony reassured him fondly.
"Someone has to worry about you," the teenager mumbled, probably not aware that the older man was hearing him, "because I got the feeling that there isn't a lot of people that care about you, and they don't know what they're missing."
The same sensation he had felt when he had observed Peter sleeping came back, soft, pleasant and warming his heart. He took a deep breath, not managing to wipe out the blissful smile of his face.
"Good night, Mister Stark."
"Good night, Peter."
000
When May Parker arrived the next morning at the compound, she was surprised to be welcomed by an artificial intelligence with a very soft voice telling her that both Tony and Peter were sleeping deeply. She still asked to see them, and carved what she saw into her heart and her soul.
The billionaire had taken his chair as near as possible of Peter, and was dozing off, his hand resting on her nephew's hair. The latter was still pale and sweaty, but appeared to be sleeping peacefully. May requested F.R.I.D.A.Y to take a photo, and the robot complied happily.
Being a Stark had a lot of advantages, that's what Tony liked to think. But having Peter Parker in his life was definitely a plus.
-000-
That's all for this first chapter! Did you like it?
I hope I didn't do too many mistakes, if you spot one please tell me! I'd be happy to improve my English even more.
The same goes for my writing! I'd love to see your advice receive constructive criticism!
See you soon for the next chapter!