A/N: apologies for taking a week to post a new chapter; i just got into another fandom. great timing, ik. anyway, i hope u enjoy this chapter!

Tony tiredly rubbed his eyes, a disgruntled look on his face as he heard Jarvis' attempts to wake him up.

Jesus Christ, why was he being awoken so damn early?

"Sir, I recommend you check on Peter," said the AI. "It seems he's suffering from an asthma attack."

At this, Tony all but flew out of his bed, rushing to Peter's bedroom. The 5-year-old in question was coughing violently, tears running down his cheeks.

"Jarvis, what the hell do I do?" Tony felt his own breathing stall, though it had nothing to do with faulty lungs and more with the ever looming doom that his son was possibly, maybe, dying.

"Sit him upright, and get Peter to take deep breaths, inhaling through the nose and exhaling through to mouth. In the meantime, would you like me to call an ambulance?"

"Shit, is he that bad? Yeah, yeah, call an ambulance!" Tony ran to Peter, helping him to sit up. "Peter, you gotta breathe for me, okay? Can you do that?"

Peter stared at Tony as he continued coughing miserably.

Tony swore silently. "Like this, in through your nose—" Tony did exactly that, breathed in through his nose–"and out through your mouth. Please, Peter!"

Peter took a weak breath in and a small puff out, but the coughing subsided slightly.

"Again, Pete, come on, you can do it!"

Peter took another small breath and exhaled. Then, again and again, until the coughing stopped almost complete. However, despite being able to breathe, Peter cried even harder.

Tony held Peter, hugging him tightly while they waited for the ambulance. Peter couldn't stop sobbing, wrapping his little arms around Tony.

"Sir, the ambulance will arrive in less than a minute. I suggest you go downstairs."

Peter looked at the ceiling, sniffing his nose. "Ambulance?"

"Yeah, Petey. We need to go to the hospital."

Peter pushed himself away from Tony. "No! No, no, no!"

"Pete, you need to. This isn't up for debate."

"No!" Peter cried harder, stomping his foot on the ground.

"Peter, they're going to be here soon. Let's just go downstairs and–"

"No! I don't want a doctor!"

"Oh, bambino, I know the doctor can seem scary, but, they're not going to hurt you, I promise."

"You're lying! The doctor made Mommy go away!" Peter wiped his eyes before he promptly ran back into Tony's arms.

"Bambi, I promise the doctor didn't make Mommy go away, all right? She was there when your mom died, but it isn't her fault."

"I don't believe you," said Peter, his head pushed into Tony's chest, making his voice barely understandable.

"I'll keep you safe, okay? No one is going to hurt you."

Peter held out his pinky. "You promise me?"

"Pinky, promise."

—

The ride to the hospital was stressful, to say the least. Peter managed not to cry, but he refused to let go of Tony, no matter what. The paramedics assured Tony that Peter would be fine, but they had a long night ahead of them. Or day, really, given that it was already 5 am.

Once they arrived at the hospital, Peter was taken to a room, and Tony signed the paperwork. Come to think of it, the whole situation was a lot more anticlimactic than Tony thought it would be. Peter stopped crying, though he made no effort to take away the pout and glares at the nurses and doctors. Not to mention, the boy would not let go of Tony.

—

Tony was watching over Peter in their private room while they waited. Peter, in the meantime, was reading the same book over and over that Tony had taken before they left the house in order to cheer Peter up. The door swung open, catching both their attention.

"Hello," said a man, walking into the room. "I'm Dr. Jimenez. Tony and Peter Stark?"

"Yup," said Tony, while Peter stared at the doctor suspiciously.

"I see that Peter woke up in the middle of the night without being able to breathe. Is that right?"

"Yeah, that's what happened. Jar–my AI said that it was an asthma attack."

"Your AI? Well, I won't lie; that's what it sounds like, but let's actually run the test before coming to that conclusion. Why don't the two of you come with me? We'll perform the test right now."

Tony stood up, beginning to follow Dr. Jimenez. "Kiddo, come on. I'll be with you, I promise."

Peter bit his lip before hopping off the bed and grabbing his father's hand. "Okay."

Dr. Jimenez led the way to another room. This one was specifically designed for asthma, with lung posters adorning the walls and several devices, their functions mysterious to Tony.

"Peter, can you tell me what happened?" The doctor asked.

Peter nodded. "I woke up, and it was dark, but it really hurt to breathe. And I was coughing."

Dr. Jimenez glanced at Tony. "This right?"

"I'd say so."

"What else happened, Peter?"

"Um, I don't know. Daddy came in, and he helped me breathe. It stopped hurting."

"Good, good," Dr. Jimenez muttered. "Okay, let's have you perform the spirometry test."

Peter frowned. "Spi-ro-me-try? What's that?"

"A lung test, basically. It's pretty short."

"Um, does it hurt?" Peter looked at the doctor with wide eyes. Tony also looked at Dr. Jimenez.

"Nope, not one bit."

"Okay, then… If it doesn't hurt…."

Dr. Jimenez pulled out a device from the tables and placed it on the exam table, where Peter was.

"All right, you're going to need to breathe into this tube," he said, holding up the machine. "Think you can do that?"

Peter nodded slightly. Dr. Jimenez gave him the tube, and Peter let a small sigh into it. "Like that?"

"Honey, I think he wants it to be a little bit stronger than that. Pretend you're the big bad wolf. You gotta huff and puff."

That got a small smile out of Peter. "Okay."

This time, Peter took a deep breath before letting it all out in the tube. This, of course, sent him into a coughing fit, causing the 5-year-old to spit the tube out.

"Is that… Is that supposed to happen?" Tony asked, using all his will not to hug Peter.

"Yup. On the bright side, we at least know what it is. Asthma."

"Oh, god. But he'll be fine, right? Like–"

"Yeah, your son will be fine. We will have to run some more tests, though. Peter, are you all right with that?"

Peter nodded nervously.

"Great. Let's get to it."

—

After that, Tony had to sign forms and have discussions with doctors. They all assured him it was nothing to worry about, and Peter would be perfectly fine. Lots of premature babies had asthma later on in life.

Tony was still scared. Scared of what it would mean for Peter. What if he forgot his inhaler one day, and he had an asthma attack, and–

Nope, let's stay away from there, Tony thought. Luckily, Peter himself drew the billionaire away from these thoughts.

"Daddy, what's asthma?" Peter asked innocently.

Right. Amongst all the panic Tony felt, Peter was still completely clueless.

"It means you have breathing problems. But, you're safe, Peter, I promise."

"So, I'm asthma?"

Tony chuckled softly. "You have asthma, yeah. But it's nothing to worry about."

"Is that why I coughed? And it hurt?"

Tony hesitated. "Yeah… That's why."

"Will it happen again?"

"It might. If you're not careful. But we'll be careful, bambino."

Peter nodded slowly. He looked outside the window mindlessly. "Daddy, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What if I go away the same way Mommy did? Because of the asthma thingie."

Tony immediately grabbed Peter's hand. "No, Peter, I promise you won't. Mommy went away for another reason. I pinky promise that you are safe. Just gotta be careful, but you'll be fine. I'll always protect you, kiddo."

"Okay… Daddy, why did Mommy go away?"

"She, um, she didn't choose to go. But, she had to."

"What if you go?"

Tony's heart broke. "I won't. I won't."

Peter smiled. "Then I won't either! Daddy, I'm gonna stay with you forever!"

"Even when you're a teenager, and you hate me?"

Peter gasped. "I'll never hate you!"

"Well, Pete, I'm gonna hold you to that in 10 years."

—

Now, getting out of the hospital was a whole other ordeal. Tony called Happy, asking him to get the least recognizable car he would find (one with a normal license plate, mind you) and be ready to hit the gas once both Tony and Peter were in the car.

Of course, of course, according to typical Tony Stark luck, the getaway plan went terribly wrong.

Of fucking course.

One of the nurses had probably tipped a newspaper off, who tipped other newspapers off and let this absolute disaster of a domino effect happen.

Upon exiting the hospital, Tony picked Peter up, shielding his face from the 'fruit flies,' and continued walking to the car as if he didn't have a care in the world. Walking to the car wasn't made easy by the 'fruit flies' but, in the end, Tony succeeded.

"Daddy," Peter said the instant the car doors closed, "why are the mean people following us again?"

"It's complicated. Didn't I explain this to you?" Tony pleaded that Peter would say yes, and they would just never talk about this again.

Peter scrunched his nose, thinking. Then, he shrugged. "Can you explain again?"

"It's more of a grown-up thing, kiddo. You'll understand it someday."

"But I wanna get it now. Being grown up is so far away."

A smile tugged at Tony's face. "Pete, you are going to miss being a kid. It's great. Being a grown-up means working and having no fun."

"We have fun, Daddy! We played goldfish yesterday!"

"That's a fair point. But still–"

Tony's phone began ringing. He frowned, flipping it open. Probably just Pepper, but he didn't take the time to look and just answered the call.

"Hey, this–" Tony began.

"Tony Stark, I cannot believe you," said a familiar voice.

"Hey, May. Sorry, can I call later?"

"Peter went to the fu–wait, is he listening to this?"

"No, but he's next to me."

"Good, good, he's safe. Peter goes to the fucking hospital, and you don't tell me? No, I had to find out from the goddamn news."

Tony cringed. "Right, yes, uh, sorry. Peter's fine, though."

"Well? What the hell happened to him? Why was he at the hospital?"

"He woke, and he couldn't breathe. Coughing too. The doctor said he has asthma. We gotta be extra careful, now."

"Oh, my god, are you sure he's all right?"

"Yeah, May, I'm sure. They gave him an inhaler and taught us how to use it."

"Thank god. I gotta tell Ben. I wish we could come, but, honestly, with work and everything… Plus, money is… complicated. We're managing." "May, do you need anything? Because I can always give you some cash, it's no big deal."

"Tony, it's fine. We're dealing with it. By the way, how are you doing with all this?"

"I was, uh, terrified," said Tony in a low voice. He looked at Peter, who was asleep by his side, bringing him a little closer. "For a moment, I thought… I thought I might've lost him. When Jarvis woke me up."

May let out a sigh. "I should be going. But I'll see how soon we can come over, okay? And, Tony, if you need any support or something, just tell us. I am a nurse."

"Thank you, May."

"And, I swear to god, if you do not update us on Peter, I will come down to California."

Tony laughed. "Feel free. I'm going to go."

"Yes, of course. Bye, Tony."

"Bye, May."

Tony carried Peter inside, refusing to wake him up after the long night. Sure, his sleep schedule would suffer, but Tony had no shits left to give. Placing the 5-year-old on his bed, Tony kissed Peter's forehead, forever thankful he was okay.