Chapter Text
To his credit, Tony didn’t push the boy off of himself to avoid being puked on. He didn’t exactly hug him close, either, though. The first wave of nausea passed, leaving them both slimed. Peter sobbed, which then made him choke on the next surge of sickness, and Tony turned him over his lap, slapping his back, lightly, suddenly worried that he was going to suffocate or something horrible.
That wave of vomit ended up running down the Tony’s side and was smeared all over his bedding – and Peter. The boy coughed several times, but the cascading muck stopped, shortly, as did the spasms that shook Peter’s little body. Tony uprighted him, again, and examined him, carefully. He was covered in the grossest, stinkiest sludge of goo that Tony could ever remember seeing – and he’d been fall down drunk enough to have seen some pretty bad stuff in his day. Just as bad, it was all over him, too.
Peter burst into tears, either because throwing up hurt, or because they were both filthy, or because he’d thrown up on Tony – or any combination of them – and Tony hugged the boy close, goo and all.
“Shhh… it’s okay.”
“Tony?” He looked up at a knock on the door and Pepper walking in, turning on the overhead light. “What’s going – oh.”
Stark rubbed Peter’s back, but the boy was still sobbing, and clinging to him as if for dear life.
“Peter’s stomach is a little upset…”
To her credit, she didn’t say I told you so. She made a soft sound of commiseration, and walked over to the bed, taking in the havoc that an entire bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers and several chocolate bars could wreak on a grown man, a little boy, and a full-sized bed.
“Poor baby…” she started to reach out to touch him, maybe to pat his back, but brought her hand back before she could. No sense her being messy, too. “What do we do?”
She wrangled billion dollar business deals practically daily, but she definitely wasn't sure what to make of the scene in front of her.
“Does your stomach still hurt?” Tony asked Peter, trying to distract him from the tears.
“I don’t know,” he said, his face buried in his father’s neck, smearing them both, further. “Maybe.”
He sneezed, then, his nose and sinuses already trying to eject what was stuck there, and sprayed himself and Tony. And started crying, again.
“I’m going to take him into the bathroom and help him get cleaned up,” Stark told her. “Will you find him some clothes and meet us there?”
“Yes.”
She left, and Tony stood up, awkwardly holding him, still.
“You’re good, buddy. It’s not the end of the world…”
Peter sniffed into his neck.
“It feels like it.”
“I know.” He couldn’t bring himself to kiss that goo smeared cheek, but he really wanted to. “Come on. We’ll go get you cleaned up, and into some warm, dry clothes, and it won’t seem so bad. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
He carried him into the bathroom, and sat him on the vanity next to the sink long enough to pull the boy’s shirt off. The rest of the soiled clothing followed, and Tony decided that there was enough mess in Peter’s hair that he might as well get him into the shower. The handle was too high for Peter to manage alone, so Tony helped the boy wash his hair, and then the rest of his body – but especially his face. The warm spray was soothing, and despite the fact that the billionaire was getting his own clothes soaked, he kept Peter in longer than was really necessary to get him cleaned.
When Pepper arrived with a fluffy towel and some underwear, sweats and a long-sleeved shirt that could double as pajamas, he wrapped his son in the towel and dried him off, and then kissed his cheek when he set him back up on the vanity to use a smaller towel to dry Peter’s hair and comb it.
“Better?” he asked.
Peter sniffed, again, but despite the woeful expression on his face, he nodded.
“Yes.”
“How does your stomach feel?” Pepper asked, setting a stack of dry clothes on the vanity that she’d brought from Tony’s room, too.
“Sore.”
“Probably more from heaving, than anything,” Tony guessed. “Can Pepper hang out with you until I get cleaned up and into some dry clothes?”
Peter nodded, and Pepper picked him up, towel and all.
“I’ll get him dressed and then we’ll go cuddle on the couch and wait for you,” she told him.
“Thank you.”
Tony waited until the door closed and then stripped out of his sodden clothes – which might as well go in the garbage as far as he was concerned, they were that bad – and then took a long shower. He washed his hair, twice, just to make sure, and then got out, so he could dry off, get dressed and go see how Peter was feeling.
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Pepper was on the sofa when he walked into the living room, freshly showered, cleaned and feeling better about the whole mess. She wasn't alone, of course. Peter was in her lap, now warmly dressed and bundled in a blanket. His head was resting on her shoulder and she was crooning to him, softly, while rocking him – very carefully.
Tony felt warm and gooey inside at the sight.
He walked over to stand behind the sofa, and Peter’s brown eyes looked up at him, but he never lifted his head.
“How do you feel, buddy?” Tony asked. “Better?”
“No.”
“He isn’t heaving,” Pepper reported. “So that’s a win, right?”
“Yeah.” He walked around the couch and settled next to Pepper, and reached for Peter. “Come here, little man,” he said. “We need to let Pepper get back to bed.”
Peter sniffed, and turned his head, ignoring the gesture and tightening his grip on Pepper. He didn’t say anything, but he really didn’t need to, did he? She smirked, and ran her fingers through the boy’s still-damp curls. He wasn't ready to give up the lap he was in, just then.
“I’ll hold him for a little while longer,” she told Tony. “It’s fine.”
“You sure? There’s no guarantee that his stomach isn’t going to go for round two.”
Or five, or six, depending on how it was being counted.
“Peter won’t throw up on me,” Pepper said, turning her head to kiss the boy’s temple. “Will you?”
“No.”
Stark rolled his eyes, but settled in next to them in case something happened, and she needed to hand Peter over, quickly.
“You realize you have to buy this place, now, right? Otherwise she’ll have to disclose the eruption that just happened in the bedroom.”
“We’ll bundle all the bedding and drop it at the dumpster on the way back to the main road, tomorrow,” Pepper decided.
She didn’t want to deal with that particular mess, either.
“I’m sorry,” Peter murmured, face in her neck, but his grip loosening a little, now.
“It’s alright, honey,” she assured him.
“We’ll be a little more careful, next time, though,” Tony added. “Won’t we?”
“I’m never eating, again…”
“That’s a little extreme. Just don’t eat twenty s’mores, next time. I’ll be there to remind you.”
Peter sighed, and then closed his eyes, sleepily.
While Pepper and Tony discussed the cleanup of the bed in Tony’s room, and then decided what time they wanted to head back to the city the next day (just after lunch) Peter dozed off in Pepper’s embrace. Tony stood up, and eased him out of her arms with a tender smile.
“I’m going to put him to bed,” he said, softly. “Thanks for the assist.”
She smiled, definitely ready to go back to bed, too.
“Lesson learned, huh?”
“Definitely.”
He told her goodnight, and then put Peter into the top bunk in his room and claimed the bottom one for himself for the night. He definitely wasn't going to sleep in his bed, now was he?