#sick!peter

Here are some that are hopefully close

Bohemian Rhapsody by Aurealis, orphan_account

It happened on the route to Avengers Compound for training. Now, Tony Stark lives in the fear of losing the one he would die protecting.

Friendly Fire by JolinarJackson

Finding a careful truce with the government, the “rogue Avengers” are allowed to return to the Compound where they are put under house arrest. Peter coming to spend one week at the Compound during his summer break couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time as the opportunity to bond a little more with his mentor is overshadowed by a conflict he doesn’t quite understand. When he starts to develop a mysterious medical condition, however, the former team is forced to work together – not just to protect Peter’s identity from the DODC, but also to find the cause for his illness before it’s too late. “He’s my kid,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. “He’s my kid and I failed him.” He covered his eyes and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “All I ever do is fail him.” Natasha knelt down in front of him and cupped his face in her hands, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she said, “Right now, he doesn’t need you to fix this. He doesn’t need you down here. He needs you over there, in the medbay, by his side.” She thumbed tears from the corners of his eyes and ignored the ones running down her own face. “You haven’t failed him yet.”

My Community by Forthelore

Tony Stark gets community service--as assigned by Judge Caprice--and leaves it up to Pepper to find him a good place that he can wallow away his hours dealing with random people of New York. Except, Pepper Potts picks one of the local children's hospital that gets a lot of their medical equipment directly from Stark Industries. It just so happens, that one of the few kids on the ward that are a fan of TONY STARK and not Iron Man is one spunky six year old--Peter Parker.

The Difference a Day Makes by Jadeys_World and snarkymuch

Peter thought he’d hit rock bottom, but maybe it needed to happen so he could find himself again. This is a story of making peace, of trusting those around you, and holding onto threads of hope. The sun will always shine again, even after the darkest of nights and hardest of storms. With Tony beside him, he might just make it through to morning. -or- Peter loses his powers, gets seriously injured, comes to terms to with his new normal, but then things take a turn and he’s facing death. There are bucket lists and declining health until a cure is found, giving him his powers back. Lots of whump and irondad moments.

One in a Million by inkinmyheartandonthepage

and if you had a bad week (ao3) - carefulren steve/bucky T, 1k

Prompt: “If you don’t mind doing this? Maybe Bucky and Steve have an apartment, and Steve invites Peter over, not expecting the teen to get super sick?”

Just a Little Bit Longer (ao3) - NowShesaBadBatcher pepper/tony T, 14k

Summary: Peter gets sick with an ear/throat infection overnight and Steve and Bucky help out

"My tummy hurts." (ao3) - astrokingly G, 1k

Summary: Six-year-old Peter is gluten intolerant and accidentally eats some gluten. good thing Uncle Bucky has a soft spot for his nephew.

Sick Days and Churros (ao3) - PurpleArrowzandLeather N/R, 1k

Summary: Peter is sick and Bucky drops by to hang out.

Yee, you didn’t specify the character so imma merge it with this anon prompt:

this is from this prompt list. Prompts are bolded :)

Pairing➳ Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings➳ will cause diabetes 

WC➳ 0.5k

Masterlist || Taglist

“I’m dying.” You heard your boyfriend groan from where he was sleeping on your lap. Rolling your eyes, you scratched the back of his neck, bringing the book you were not reading closer to you.

“You’re being dramatic Petey, who told you to eat that entire pint of ice cream anyway?” You say not unkindly, running your fingers through his unruly hair. You smiled underneath the book when you felt him shift. You knew he was giving you his puppy dog eyes, your suspicions confirmed when he took the book from your hands and gave you a pout.

“Pay me attention, I’m sick.” He whined, scrunching his face in an adorable way. Giggling, you gently swat away his probing hand from your cheeks. Holding his hands, you winced when you felt the overly warm flesh, concern washing over you. Moving your hands to his forehead, you pushed away the sweaty curls, placing the back of your palm to check his temperature.

“FRIDAY, what’s his temperature?” You ask the AI, keeping the book you were totally reading aside.

“Mister Parker’s temperature currently stands at hundred and one degrees fahrenheit, do you want me to call medical assistance?” She answered.

“No thanks FRI, can you call dad to get his pills though?” 

You shift around a little bit, the feeling of ants crawling up your thighs making you uncomfortable.

“Don’t want medicine.” He grumbled.

“What was that?” You laughed, pinching his nose like you did with your little sister. Sometimes they acted the same age.

“It tastes icky!”

“Peter, you’re a fully grown adult, even Morgan eats pills nowadays!”

“Yuck.” He made a face, burying his nose in your stomach, “Why don’t you kiss my booboo better?” You could practically hear his shit eating grin. 

Rolling your eyes, you shift again, massaging the base of his neck, “I won’t kiss you. You’re sick.” 

“Pleaseeee?” 

“Nope. FRI where’s dad?” 

“Boss is on his way with your requested items.”

“Oh, thanks, I guess.”

A few minutes and a fussy Peter eating his pills by you bribing him later, he was finally asleep, his congested snores resonating the empty halls of the penthouse. You didn’t know you had fallen asleep, until you were being shaken awake by warm hands and a squirming body.

You heard him whimper, shifting positions on your lap.

“What’s wrong Peter? Should I call Bruce?” You whisper, leaning close to see his scrunched face and nauseating pallor, “Does it hurt?” 

He gave a tiny nod, tears of frustration leaking from his eyes, “Yeah.”

“Good, that’s what you get for eating my part of the ice cream.” You joked, tracing circles on his shoulder blades. Your hand vibrated with his chuckles, satisfied that you had managed to make him laugh.

“You’re mean.” He giggled, sticking his tongue out as he tried to lean in to kiss you again. 

“No.” You smiled, pushing him down with your hand on his chest.

“Meanie.” 

“Love you too.”

Summary: Peter hasn’t been out on patrol in a while. Tony goes to find out why.

Author’s Note: A fanfic that I abandoned before I finished it, and found in a random folder. Quality might be inconsistent – had to rework some things.

Warnings: None

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“Huh’tchh’yih” Peter sneezes into a tissue and groans in disgust. He throws it away before quickly grabbing another one and sneezing twice more.

“Ow” he moans as pain spikes in his head. Why could he not win with this? Every time he stifled sneezes his brain wanted to explode but when he let them out it would sear his throat. Hence why he had been trying to hold them back for the last little while. Now he regrets that – them all starting to catch up with him.

He blows his nose and clears his throat, throwing the tissue away again.

In the distance he hears a collective of sirens switch on from the police station. He flops backward with a groan, lying on his bed feeling helpless that he can’t do anything to help. He turns his head towards his desk and gives his Spidey suit a distasteful look.

The moment doesn’t last long as he rolls into his shoulder “hih’iKEWhh!” His breath continues to hitch in preparation for a second sneeze but it quickly fades away. Sniffling, he pulls himself back up and reaches over to the tissue box next to his bed, grabbing a few before blowing his nose again.

It doesn’t matter that the tissue misses the trashcan - plenty of others had. He’d pick them up when he was healthy again. For now, he just focuses on tying his shoelaces so he can head to the store.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Walking through the empty living room, he wishes May were there, she would have gone instead of him in a heartbeat. But she isn’t so Peter had spent a good while procrastinating and trying to summon up the energy to get himself out of the apartment.

It would also be nice if he could wear his Spidey suit, the programmed heater would be amazing against the snow outside. But that isn’t going to work. Nevertheless, he carries on through the apartment complex down to the street level, hoping his neighbours will ignore that he looks like the embodiment of death.

As soon as he steps onto the sidewalk the cold air hits him like a shockwave, having him immediately lifting an arm to cough into when it reaches his already agitated lungs. A shiver runs down his spine and he huddles deeper into the jacket he is wearing, like he’s trying to disappear. As a last effort to keep warm he breathes through his hands for the next few steps, trying to acclimatise to the outside air on his way to the pharmacy across the block.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tony sits at his computer alone in the warm comfort of his office. He’d noticed Peter’s Spider suit remain out of action for a few days now, and rechecking the report feedback he sees that nothing has changed.

Up until now he hadn’t thought much about it. Winter break is in session, the kid is probably taking some time away from it, catching up on lost sleep, especially when it’s cold outside. But with the stats showing the suit not having been picked up in three days, he knows that’s a long time for Peter to neglect it.

With nothing better to do other than important emails, he decides to get to the bottom of it and call the kid. They were due for a check in anyway.

The ring goes through to answerphone which is no big surprise. It wasn’t unlike Peter to leave his phone to die. It’s no big deal either, Tony formulating an excuse to leave his office - the long hours have made it seem claustrophobic. He’d go see the kid face-to-face.

Without another though he pulls up the trackers onto his desktop screen, seeing two appear on the map. The suit locator still at Peter’s apartment and the tracker implanted in his web shooters moving down the block. He smiles to himself knowing that Peter rarely takes them off.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. transfer information to GPS” Tony commands, rising out of his chair.

“On it, boss” the A.I. replies as he makes his way down to the garage.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tony clicks his tongue in frustration as he tries to find a carpark in the busy street. He settles on one a street away from where the tracker has stopped, not able to find one closer. Turning off the ignition he glances at the tracker still seeing it close by.

Walking along the footpath Tony switches his gaze from the tracker app on his phone to the labels of the stores trying to figure out which one Peter could be in. After stopping at a driveway to let a passing car through he sees the tracker start to move again, going away from him.

Glancing back up his eyes scan through the crowds of people flocking the streets until he finds a familiar head of brown hair moving slower than the rest.

Tony only has to quicken his pace a fraction to catch up on ground in a matter of seconds. “Pete?” he calls out through the buzz of the crowd when he is a few paces behind him.

“Mr Stark?” Peter turns around confused. He’s so out of it he wouldn’t be surprised if he is imagining things.

“Hey, kid” he says putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder, steering him off the footpath into the entrance to an alleyway out of the flow of foot traffic.

“What are you doing here?” Peter asks turning around to face back to him. Well aware that Tony never really comes this side of town.

“I came to see you. I tried calling but you didn’t pick up.”

“Oh shoot” Peter mutters, patting down on his pockets suddenly realising he left his phone back at the apartment.

“Doesn’t matter” Tony dismisses before Peter can apologise profusely. “I just want to know what’s the dealio about you not going on patrol for the last little bit.”

Peter swallows nervously. Remembering Karen shutting down his suit a few days earlier when he was starting to get sick. Tony having installed program that made it unable to operate if Peter’s temperature got over 38°C.

Of course, he had argued with her but when she suggested that he could appeal the decision to Mr Stark or have him alerted of Peter’s state as a condition for going on patrol, either way involving him finding out Peter was sick, he knew he wouldn’t take the matter any further. Ever since then he had left the suit alone until he could get better.

“The suits not really working.”

“Like a virus?” Tony’s brow furrows. Unaware that there are viruses evolved enough to attack his tech.

“Something like that” Peter murmurs. More like he had one.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It takes Tony a few seconds to process but he eventually settles on the fact that Peter’s voice sounds decidedly off, “you sound stuffy.”

“It’s winter, Mr Stark. Everyone’s a little stuffy” Peter attempts to brush off before sniffing.

With Peter’s arms tightly folded and shoulders hunched, the billionaire isn’t buying it. “You got the sniffles?”

“Flu, actually.”

Tony doubletakes. “Well then what are you doing out here?” he speaks with his voice raising.

Not having the energy to be bothered talking Peter unfolds his arms and holds up the paper bag he’s been holding. Tony takes it from him and looks inside.

“You’re going to need something stronger than this for the flu.”

“I’m underage, I can’t buy anything stronger than this” Peter explains, suppressing a shiver.

“Why couldn’t your Aunt come out and get some? Is she sick too?” Tony inquires handing the bag back to him.

“She’s on a work course” Peter tells him, taking the bag back and folding his arms again.

“You’re home alone?”

Peter hums in response.

“Can’t have that” Tony states, “you’re coming back to HQ with me.”

Peter starts to shake his head but before he can say anything Tony cuts him off. “No disagreement. I can tell this flu’s getting you down. Your energy’s normally at an eleven, now it’s at a negative one.”

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“Does your Aunt know?”

The silent car ride Peter had hoped for didn’t last longer than two minutes after they’d left his apartment for him to pick up his stuff.

“No.”

“You weren’t sick before she left?”

Peter tries to ignore Tony’s eyes staring back at him through the rear-view mirror. “You know how it is – they come on pretty fast.”

For a few moments the car is silent while Tony thinks it over. “You should tell her” he says eventually.

“No” Peter denies immediately, not caring about how abrupt it sounds before he continues. “She’ll want to come home from the conference. Then she’ll miss out on the promotion which she needs for the pay raise.”

“If you’re struggling for money” –

Peter cuts Tony off with a loud sigh, followed by a couple of irritated coughs. “See this is why I didn’t want to bring it up.”

Also really at odds of how to write Peter’s stuffy-sad-sick voice. I feel like he tries to concentrate hard on pronouncing things right when he’s sick, but this causes him to forget words and sentences, which makes him grumpy.

Anyways. So many sick!Petey thoughts

After looking at the response from the post I made asking what people want to see, I’m going to go with Spider-Man because a lot of people asked for him, with a lot also asking for Tony or marvel in general. 

There was a lot for DBH as well, but I’m going to go with Spider-Man (Irondad and Spiderson) for tonight. I hope that’s okay!

The snow crunching under Peter’s boots as he approaches Stark Tower only serves as a reminder of his buddy aggravation at the cold, at winter, at his poor immune system that gives out the second the temperature drops below 50 degrees Fahrenheit. 

He picked up a cold a few days ago, but it wasn’t-- isn’t-- bad; it’s just a pesky annoyance really, the sneezing, the back of his throat throbbing lightly, the coughing-- all just enough to have Karen using some sort of advanced technology Peter has yet to crack to keep him from donning his suit. 

“Karen, what the hell is this? Why can’t I grab my suit without getting shocked?”

“You’re ill, Peter.”

“It’s a cold.”

“You have a fever.” 

“It’s just a cold--”

“Peter, you don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to illness and patrol. Now, unless you want me to tell Mr. Stark that you’ve been neglecting rest to catch up on homework, you will stop pushing and leave the suit alone until you’re well again.”

Peter rolls his eyes as the argument burns in his mind, and a gust of wind has him shivering with a hiss. He quickly hugs himself with a low groan. No suit means no heater, and no suit means he had to walk the twenty-five minutes to the tower because Ubers are expensive, and Ned’s mom won’t let him take the car out alone despite having his license now. 

He tugs on his hood, ensuring it covers his face as much as possible, and coughs weakly, breath clouding in the cold air as he starts up the long flight of steps. 

The doors whir open as soon as he approaches them, and the sudden shift from icy wind to engulfing heat has his nose twitching until he’s turning to sneeze sharply into the crook of his arm. Groaning he swipes his sleeve under his nose as his eyes shift around-- it’s empty, quiet, but if he listens, if he taps into his senses, he can hear faint arguing-- one distinctively British accent against a quiet, tired voice.

He follows the voices until he slips into the second floor lounge, where Loki is leaning against a door-frame across the room with crossed arms while Tony is curled up on one couch, a pile of tissues littering the floor around him. 

“You’re a disgusting pile of snot, Stark,” Loki gripes out before dragging his gaze to Peter. “Good luck with this one.” 

He spins on his heel, stalking out of the room, leaving only Peter and Tony, the latter propped up on one elbow to hack barking coughs into his fist. 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter drops his backpack and coat to floor and rushes to Tony’s side, hovering but not touching-- he knows how Tony is. “Are you okay?”

Tony looks up once he catches his breath and sighs quietly. “Yeah, kid. Caught a nasty cold-- that’s all.” 

With furrowed brows, Peter holds one hand up in silent question, and when Tony shows no signs of objection, he slides his palm across Tony’s forehead, lips dropping into a pressing frown at the alarming heat. 

“Mr. Stark, you’re burning up. FRIDAY--”

“It’s 102.3, kid,” Tony cuts off, voice sounding an octave lower than usual as he shivers slightly from Peter’s cold palm. “FRIDAY’s already informed me, and I’ve already got medicine pumping through the system. Now I just have to wait and rest.” 

Peter gets to his feet, frown still playing prominently on his lips. “Mr. Stark, if you’re sick, why did you ask me to come? We could have--” 

“It’s three days until Christmas, Pete. All we’re going to do is watch stupid Christmas movies. I can handle that.” 

Hesitance plays on Peter’s face, and Tony rolls his eyes through a muttered series of coughs. “Don’t give me that look. Go sit on the opposite couch so you don’t catch this plague and cue up Netflix.” 

Quietly, Peter turns toward the other couch, but he pauses half way, a pesky tickle forcing him to turn and sneeze sharply into the crook of his arm. 

“Unless you’ve already fallen victim?” 

Sniffling, Peter turns back to face Tony with a shake of the head. “No, just the temperature difference from outside to inside. It was a cold walk--”

“You walked?” Tony sits up slightly, his turn to frown at the young boy. “Why didn’t you just swing over? I put that built in heater in your suit for a reason, you know.” 

Peter swallows back a small pit of panic. “N-no, I know, Mr. Stark. I just wanted... I wanted to clear my head. I get carried away with all this hero stuff when I’m in the suit.” 

Unconvinced, Tony sits up a little more. “You sound stuffy.” 

“Everyone is stuffy this time of year, Mr. Stark.” Peter turns back around, grabbing the remote before he flops down onto the couch across from Tony. “I promise I’m fine.” 

Tony holds Peter’s gaze for an extended moment, as if picking the kid apart, but Peter knows that look far too well, so he does his best to look relaxed, at ease, like he didn’t just lie to Tony’s face. 

“Fine,” Tony says before turning to sneeze into the blankets. He glances at Peter, eyes shifting to his own mound of blankets before looking back to Peter’s bare couch. “You warm enough over there? I had FRIDAY raise the heat a little because I’m freezing.” 

“Yeah, I’m good, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, shifting his eyes to the TV. Another lie-- he, too, is freezing. His bones are aching to shake against the chill settling against them, yet his face is far too warm. 

“Good. The Grinch?” 

Nodding, Peter arrows over to the movie and presses play. He keeps his eyes to the screen while his focus is on Tony’s persistent coughing and sneezing. Worry pulls at his stomach, but then Tony grows quiet, and Peter spares a glance to see the older man has nodded off, looking at ease in a light slumber. 

Without eyes on him, Peter presses his mouth to his shoulder and coughs harshly, muffling the cough into the fabric of his hoodie, before he lies down, curling onto his side as a shiver whips like an electric shock across his body. His eyes are drooping, and it’s somewhere between the Grinch’s backstory that he, too, nods off. 

*****

Tony’s pulled awake not by the end song from the movie, but from the sound of harsh coughing coming far too close and not from him. He pries tired eyes open, but the sight of Peter curled into a shaking ball and coughing loudly in a fitful sleep has him shooting up with wide, alarmed eyes. 

The kid looks far too pale, and his brows are furrowed in his sleep. He’s shaking from head to toe, teeth clacking together in between painful coughs, and Tony gets to his feet, swaying slightly but blinking past the sudden haze as he crosses the room to Peter. 

“FRIDAY?” 

“His current temperature is 103.2 degrees, sir. Karen’s patched over his vitals over the last four days. Would you like me to read them to you?” 

“Let me guess,” Tony starts, voice almost a groan. “He went from okay, to bad, to worse?” 

“Yes, sir. He caught a cold a few days ago, and his temperature has been steadily climbing since then due to lack of proper rest. I’m afraid his walk here may have pushed his cold to bronchitis.” 

There are words Tony wants to say, but Peter’s starting to stir awake, and when he blinks slowly at Tony, Tony only cocks his head to the side with a frown. 

“M-Mr. Stark?” Peter rasps out, trying to sit up. “Why’re you up? You should be--” 

“Taking care of your ass apparently,” Tony starts, turning away to muffle a few coughs. His head is throbbing, but the kid looks positively miserable. “103.2 degree-fever, kid? What was that nonsense about being fine?” 

Frowning, Peter presses one shaky hand to his cheek, the heat warming his finger tips upon brief contact. “It’s just a cold--”

“Not anymore, it isn’t.” Tony doesn’t mean to sound as harsh as he does-- it’s a spark of concern that comes out as a wave of anger. He gets to his feet with a sigh, and when Peter tries to stand as well, Tony bends over to gently push him back down. “Stay put, kid. I’ll be right back.” 

From heavy-lidded eyes, Peter watches as Tony leaves the room while chatting with FRIDAY. He tries to follow the fleeting conversation, but the fatigue is pulling him back under, and he slips off again. 

He recalls waking up once to drink something that tasted terrible, and he faintly remembers some rustling, possibly some moving, but the fever keeps his mind hazy and drifting back to sleep, until he wakes a few hours later, a frown playing on his lips because he’s sitting up-- sort of. He’s no longer lying flat on his side, he’s pressed against something-- no. 

He’s pressed against someone because he’s warm, no longer feeling as if he’s close to freezing to death. There’s a blanket over him, and there’s an arm draped around his shoulders. He peers up to see Tony sitting up right, his head tilted back against the back of the couch as he snores softly. 

He can’t remember much, but he doesn’t want to wake Tony to ask. Yet a soft voice, one just barely above a whisper, comes from across the room, and Peter shifts his gaze until he sees Loki perched in an arm chair with one leg crossed over the other. 

“He’s fine,” Loki says quietly, and when Peter mutters a weak “how,” Loki cuts him off. “You're easy to read, kid. Tony’s fever is already going down. Yours, however, is still high enough that I’m forced to sit in here and play babysitter to you two sniffling imbeciles until Rogers gets back.” 

“OK, so you see how this works?” Tony asked, moving the hologram with a quick hand movement. Tony had been giving Peter a lesson in aerodynamics for the past hour and a half, mostly because Peter wanted to improve.

“Kind of,” Peter replied, sniffling and bringing a hand up to rub at his nose. “Hh’NNCH! Hahhh… huh’TISHH! TISSSH!”

He sniffed again, trying to ignore the urge to rub his nose. “Sorry, I always sneeze in threes.”

Tony dismissed the hologram and gave Peter a once-over. His hair was a little disheveled but he was also a teenage boy and probably didn’t spend too much time in the mirror. But Peter’s eyes looked glassy and his cheeks were tinged pink and—

Peter scrunched his nose when he rubbed it again before noticing Tony staring at him. “Is something wrong, Mr. Stark?”

“Maybe I should be asking you that question,” Tony said, turning off the computer. “Are you feeling OK?”

“Me? Oh, yeah. I’m feeling good,” he responded, rubbing the back of his head. “Why? Are you… are you feeling OK?”

“Do I need to make J.A.R.V.I.S. scan your vitals?”

“No, no. C’mon, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I need to improve for next time. Y’know, next time we get intruders from space or something?”

Tony groaned. “There’s not going to be a next time if you don’t take care of this. Health first. So what are we dealing with here?”

“Oh, I—” Peter gasped suddenly, bringing a hand to his face and pinching his nose shut. “Hehh…. H-hih! Hgk’NGKKT!” This was punctuated with a liquid sniffle before launching into two more. “H-hihh’NNGT! Hh’NNCH! Ugh, I’b sorry.”

“So, typical cold? What, you pick it up from school or something? God, kids.” Tony sighed. “Well, pack it up.”

“Where are we going?” Peter asked thickly, grabbing his backpack.

Intro

Part 1.    Part 2.    Part 3.    Part 4.    Part 5.    Part 6.   Part 7.   Part 8.   Part 9.    Part 10.   Part 11.   Part 12.   Part 13.   Part 14.

Happier Ending

NSFW Lovers Verse:  Part 1.   Part 2.

Meeting the Parents Verse:  Prequel.   Part 1.

Baby Watson-Parker Verse: Part 1.   Part 2.   Part 3.   Part 4.   Part 5.  Part 6.   Part 7.    Part 8.