#happyaspie mini fic

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

I have a sickfic prompt for you!

Okay, so imagine Peter sick in bed. Tony babysitting because May has to work. Before May leaves she mentions to Tony, “Can you grab his pjs out of the laundry? He always wants a particular pair when he’s feeling sick-“

And Tony doesn’t think anything of it. So he goes to grab Peter’s clothes and sees the pjs…

Are a tourist shirt and Hello Kitty pants

This ask came in all the way back in March. It was a fun idea so I held into, hoping to eventually turn it into a mini-fic. Well, friends. Today is the day. Have a big dose of soft, guilty Tony and sick, cuddly-warm Peter.

Hello Kitty Pajamas - 826 Words

“May! May, I’m here!” Tony called as he let himself into the Parkers’ apartment. He’d received a message an hour prior requesting his presence. Specifically, so he could babysit a significantly ill spider-baby while his aunt went in for a mandatory shift. He’d hesitated at first because was he really the best choice? May had assured him there was no one else. And that even if there were, she was sure Peter wouldn’t want anyone but him. An unfamiliar warmth had bloomed in his chest, prompting him to obtain his keys.

“Sorry!” May called from down the hall. “I'm sorry! He sweat right through his clothes. I was changing the sheets, so you didn’t have to.”

Tony pulled a face without meaning to. A slight laugh escaped May’s lips as a result.

“He’s in the shower now. That should help with a lot of the congestion.” she paused, sighed and twisted her lip between her teeth. “I know he’s old enough to take care of himself. I just- with his fever going up and down so rapidly I didn’t want him to be here alone. Just in case.”

“It’s fine, May. You know I don’t mind spending time with him,” he said, keeping his voice as steady and nonchalant as possible. “Thanks for changing the sheets, though. Housekeeping isn’t really my thing.” They both knew, without a doubt, that he’d do it again if needed. But neither of them commented on it.

"Shoot! How did it get so late? I really need to get going.” He watched May scramble to find her purse and keys. “His favorite pajamas are in the dryer. Can you grab those for him?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks again, Tony,” May said, already halfway out the door. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

Tony smiled and waved to her toward the hall. “Any time, May. You know that.”

Once she was gone, he located the laundry area and opened the dryer. Inside was a heap of towels of varying sizes. Among them, he managed to stop a white shirt and some pink fuzzy pants. Although it wasn’t until he hauled them out that he realized what they were. Hello Kitty was patterned across the bottoms, and the top was the over-sized tourist shirt. He suddenly realized it was the outfit he’d purchased the kid directly after their first argument. He blew out a breath as an image of Peter, wearing that exact outfit with tears running down his cheeks popped into his head. Guilt began to swirl in his gut. He dug around in the dryer hoping to find different pajamas. He couldn’t fathom how those could possibly be Peter’s favorite. Unsuccessful, he clutched the shirt and pants tightly in his fist and carried them to the restroom door.

“Pete?” he called. “I’m putting your PJ’s outside the door.”

“Thanks,” Peter rasped, coughing harshly after. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Take your time, Bud. No rush.”

Tony sat down on the couch. His leg bounced and his fingers tapped on his knee as he thought more about that decidedly horrible day. The whole thing has been his fault, really. If he’d just told the kid he’d called the FBI… He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand down his face. God, he’d been a jerk. He shouldn't have shouted in the kid’s face and really shouldn't have taken the suit. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the bathroom door creak open.

“Hey,” Peter said as he rounded the corner. “Sorry, May made you come.”

Tony swallowed with difficulty. The sight of the pajamas making his stomach churn. “I-”

“Are you okay?” Peter interjected.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Tony quipped. Peter continued to frown. “I’m fine. Just- thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Definitely,” Tony agreed, then sucked in a breath. “May said those are your favorite pajamas.”

Peter hummed positively and dropped down onto the couch. “They’re comfortable.”

Tony's brow furrowed. “They don’t make you think about that day?”

“Sometimes,” Peter shrugged. “But mostly they make me think about you.”

A warm wet head landed on Tony’s shoulder. Water soaked through his shirt. He found he didn’t really mind. “I’m so sorry, Kid,” he whispered. “I really didn’t handle that situation very well. I didn’t communicate with you the way I should have, I lost my temper when that backfired, then I took it all out on you. I shouldn't have done that. Forgive me?”

“Already did,” Peter yawned. “Like- a long time ago.”

It shouldn’t have been that easy, Tony thought to himself. But Peter is such a good kid… he leaned his cheek against the top of Peter’s head and sighed. “Tired?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t feel so good.”

“Well, let’s get you into your bed, hmm? May changed the sheets and everything.”

Peter nodded and started toward his bedroom. Tony followed behind, smiling softly as the kid exhaustedly crawled under the covers. Astonishingly, the sight of the pajamas didn’t bother him so much anymore. He traversed the room and ran his fingers through his kid’s hair.

“Sleep well, Kiddo,” he murmured. “I’ll be out there if you need me.”

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Mumbled Itallian

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52213267 by happyaspie When Tony wants to complain, he tends to do so under his breath- in fluent Italian. What Tony doesn't know is that Peter can both hear and understand him. Peter tries to ignore most of it. That becomes exceedingly difficult when there comes a day that the mumbled Italian is about him. Words: 995, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 26 of Tumblr Mini Fics Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark Additional Tags: wordcount under 1k, Peter Parker Speaks Italian, Tony Stark Speaks Italian, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, tony stark is such a dad, Banter, Slice of Life, Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Tony Stark Calls Peter Parker his Son read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52213267

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

OK OK BUT JOY, the prompt: “If you die, I die. Don’t you get that!” Between Irondad?! Either way! ASDGHJKL ANGST

AHHHH!!! Mini-fic time?? Yes. Yes, Mini-fic time.

Here it is, at 997 words. A lot of action, leading to a short panic-induced argument... and a hug. Because of course, there is a hug. :D Enjoy!! [click here for a reversed use of this prompt]

If You Died...

Peter hadn’t meant to get in over his head. It was just- he needed to keep his neighborhood safe, and he had powers. It wasn’t like he could see a problem and just walk away. But he had been careful. He’d used his tools and his abilities to access the situation. He’d asked his AI to run facial recognition on everyone involved and had cross-referenced their information through several databases; just to make sure he knew what he was up against. 

Three regular guys, selling regular drugs inside a regular empty warehouse. That was it. Nothing about it had been alarming or ominous. So, taking them out should have been easy. And technically it was. It was the swarm of armed individuals that had flooded in after that had been the problem. He had that too for a while. Then the big guys came in. Three of them, with large shoulders and enhanced strength that matched his own. He was having a difficult time dividing his attention between the projectiles and the hands being aimed at his face. 

“Karen?” He dodged, while shooting webs that never seemed to hit their mark. When they did, they never held for long. The big guys  busted right out of them. “A little back up would be nice.”

“Of course, Peter. Contacting Mr. Stark.”

Peter ducked and slid beneath one of the large men’s legs. “Wait! Isn’t- Is Captain America available?” He spun around, sending his foot into the guy's knee cap. The impact made no difference; like a child kicking a fencepost. “Maybe Black Widow? Hawkeye?”

There was no debate. “Mr. Stark is already in route.” Three dots appeared on his HUD along with an ETA. 

Peter wanted to fret over his mentor's imminent arrival but there wasn’t time. Whenever he thought he had one of the men restrained, they broke free and he had to start over again. One down, two to go. Two down, one- no, still two to go. It was a vicious cycle.

Ten minutes later a blast came from the right. A hole appeared in the wall and Iron Man, gauntlets ablaze, flew through it. Peter looked up. The momentary distraction allowed enough time for a football sized fists to make contact with his stomach. He flew backwards, through a spray of ammunition, and landed in the wall. 

The comms crackled to life. Peter wished they hadn't. Pain was already radiating from the back of his skull down and down his spine. When Mr. Stark shouted his name, his ears began to ring. Dazedly, he looked up. Mr. Stark was swooping around the room. Metal clanked and repulsors whirred. Peter struggled to get to his feet to help. Mr. Stark’s voice was back in his ears.

“Stay down, Spider-Man! You’re done!”

Peter blinked. He took stock of his body. The blow had hurt, but he had enhanced strength and a healing factor. He shook out his limbs and demeaned himself well enough to continue. “I’m good. Just a little-” 

He didn’t get to finish. Mr. Stark flew by, lifted his faceplate and scowled. “I said you’re done!”

The tone gave Peter pause. Reluctantly, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. “I’m really okay,” he whispered, despite his throbbing head.

“And I’m really not discussing this will you,” Mr. Stark quipped. “I’m just about done here. You stay put. Capice?”

Peter nodded and looked around. Most of the little guys had fled. And only one of the larger men remained standing. Clearly his webbing needed an upgrade. Maybe taser webs with a manual detonation. A range of fifty to ninety thousand volts would probably do it. Could the suit handle that without increasing the power? He was unable to finish the math before Mr. Stark was in front of him.

“Let’s go.”

Peter allowed himself to be lifted to the top of a nearby water tower. He pulled his mask off and ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. “Mr. Stark, I-”

“Do you have any idea who those people are, what they’re capable of?” Mr. Stark gestured wildly toward the warehouse.

Peter shifted his feet. “I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t know? Of course you didn’t. Did you even stop to ask?” Mr. Stark wrapped his fingers tightly around his wrist. “There were two dozen lacheys and three giant bruises in there! What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t- it was three normal guys when I started!” he half-shouted. It wasn’t his fault, but Mr. Stark didn’t look keen to listen. “The others just- showed up!”

Mr. Stark took a step forward. “You could have died in there, Peter!”

“I wasn’t going to die!” he defensively shouted. “I have super-powers and I did call for back-up!”

“Your AI said you had been going at it for over an hour before you called! Peter-” Mr. Stark looked frantic with his hands running through his hair.  “Peter, I don’t know how to explain this to you any more clearly. I-” His face dropped, all blood draining from his face. “What if you had died? Then what?”

 Frustrated, Peter gritted his teeth. “It’s on you.”

Mr. Stark blinked. “No. No, bud. That’s not- geez.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, his breaths increasing as he spoke. “Pete. If you die, I die! Do you get that? If you die- I will never recover. I will-”

Peter’s brows furrowed with realization. Mr. Stark was having a panic attack. “Are you okay, Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark’s head shot up, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Peter stepped closer, his hand going to the back of his hair.  “My head hurts but that’s it..”

Without warning, he was pulled into a tight hug.

“Just- promise me you won’t wait so long to call for help next time. Because- Peter? Peter, I can’t lose you.”

Eyes closed tight, Peter nestled his face into Mr. Stark's chest. “I promise, Mr. Stark. You won’t lose me.”

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Ok ok, but the prompt “if you die, I die! Don’t you get that?!” with Peter yelling it at Tony 😂😂

Fine. Fine. Yes. Let's reverse it. Another mini!

874 words, a little more angsty with a hurt Tony Stark and a very passionate Peter Parker. Enjoy!! :D [Click here for a reversed use of this prompt]

If You Die... Part. 2.

As Tony came back to awareness the first thing he noticed was the incessant beeping of a heart monitor. It was one tone after another, in two second intervals. Beep… Beep… Beep... He tried to turn away from it, but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate. He was exhausted in a way he’d never felt before. His limbs felt like lead and his eyes refused to open. 

For a few minutes, he simply laid there mildly aware of his surroundings but lacking the energy to interact with them. Beep… Beep… Beep… The sound was starting to get on his nerves. He wished it would stop. He tried to clench his fist but managed nothing more than a small twitch of his finger. His forehead creased slightly in concentration. Another two fingers moved, flexing upward and dropping back down to the sheets. That seemed to get the attention of whomever was in the room. His hand was suddenly engulfed by a firm warm grasp.

“-ister Stark?” Tony used all his strength to turn towards the voice. His head moved marginally but he managed to crack an eye open. “Mr. Stark?” As his vision focused he was able to see Peter hovering above him.

He parted his dry lips and pressed his sandpaper tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Kid?” he rasped. It came out in barely a whisper. But he was certain Peter heard it. His kid’s hand tightened around his own and tears started to break free from his eyes.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter leaned forward until his head was resting heavily on his chest. Hot tears were soaking into his shirt and wanted nothing more than to comfort his kid. He felt more alert with his eyes open and his strength was slowly returning. He pulled his heavy hand out of Peter’s grasp and repositioned it so he could wrap his fingers around his kid’s wrists.

“I’m right here, Buddy,” he murmured, while fighting his other arm off of the mattress. Eventually, he managed and was able to get his hand to the back of his kid’s head. “I’m right here.”

“You almost weren’t!” Peter stood up, sniffed and ran his free hand over his cheeks. “You almost- You almost died, Mr. Stark!”

A painful lump formed in his throat. He looked at the bleached-white sheets and tried to swallow past it. “But I didn’t.”

“But you could have!” Peter shouted. Fresh tears started to flow. That time, he didn’t try to stop them. “The doctors said- they said you might not- We almost lost you!”

Tony licked his dry lips and coughed. Seconds later, a nurse walked into the room, raised his bed and offered him some water. Once he’d had a few sips, she started tugging at the various tubes and wires. She shined a light in his eyes and started asking questions. He answered them with an absentminded nod or shake of his head. His gaze had yet to leave Peter. Even from across the room he could see his kid’s puffy eyes and tear streaks cheeks,

The nurse finished with him and started talking to Peter. He couldn’t hear what she was saying but he could see his kid nod his head. Then, the nurse was gone and Peter returned to his bedside still sniffling. 

“You can’t do this again,” Peter said, his voice eerily calm. He gathered a shuddering breath and pressed his lips into a tight thin line.  “I can’t- you were in a coma for six days. You can’t-”

All of a sudden Peter’s anger and upset finally made sense. Tony’s eyes momentarily winded in response. Six days was a long time to wait for someone to wake up. “I’m sorry, Bud. I never-”

“You can’t die!” Peter shouted loudly enough to make Tony flinch. “If you die, I die! Don’t you get that?” His fists balled up by his sides as his face crumpled in anguish. “You- you’re the only one I have left!”

Not quite understanding, Tony pulled his brows together. “You have May, your friends and-”

“They aren’t you! I need you, Mr. Stark!” Peter’s voice cracked on the last syllable. He ran his hands down his face and crossed arms defensively over his chest.  “I’ve already lost my mom and dad! Then I lost Uncle Ben too! I need you!”

tony felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. “Pete. Honey-”

“Stop it! Stop- Don’t patronize me!” The anger didn’t last long. Within seconds Peter was back to leaning over the bed, one arm wrapped around Tony's stomach. “Just- next time let someone else make the sacrifice play! Because, selfish or not- I need you here!”

His kid was crying again and Tony could feel his own eyes starting to water. “Oh, kid. That’s not- that’s not selfish, Buddy. That’s-” 

Peter squeezed him tightly enough that it was starting to hurt. He didn’t complain. He simply held on with equal ferocity, 

When Peter let go, it was so he could look Tony in the eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

Tony smiled and placed his hands on either side of his kid’s damp cheeks. “I- I love you too, Pete. So much. And I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

How about Peter feeling touch-starved and asks Tony for a hug?

These mini fics often turn out super self-indulgently soft. Haha. But hey! We love it, right?? We're here for the fanon?? I know I am! I hope Anon is too because this one is hurt/comfort with a heavy emphasis on the comfort. Peter desperately needs a hug and doesn't know it. Good thing Tony does. :) Super sweet. Very fluff.

Peter Parker Needs a Hug 967 Words

At sixteen-years-old, Peter was eminently capable of spending a week alone in the apartment. May had been begged to take some shifts at a short-staffed hospital a few hours away. She’d tried to decline. She’d told them she had a nephew at home and couldn't uproot him in the middle of the school year.

Peter had argued the compensation was too good to give up. He’d assured her he would be fine. It wasn’t like he spent that much time at home anyway. He’d attend school, patrol, complete his homework and sleep. If he needed anything, he would have the Leeds’, MJ and Mr. Stark.

Reluctantly she had accepted the offer. She’d packed a few bags, hugged him tightly and driven off.

As it were, Peter flourished in the independence. He woke up early to make himself breakfast, watched whatever he wanted on the television and made sure to get to bed at a reasonable hour. It was great. And when the first week went well, May apprehensively agreed to one more.

While Peter missed his aunt, he wasn’t terribly upset that she had decided to stay longer. It was only seven more days and they talked on the phone all the time. However, the intrigue and sense of accomplishment that came with being trusted to care for himself came to a screeching halt in the middle of his eleventh night of solitude.

For no discernible reason, Peter woke up too early in the morning feeling uneasy. He didn’t think he’d had a nightmare. If he had, he certainly didn’t remember it. Sighing, he went to get a glass of milk from the kitchen; something he often did when he simply couldn’t sleep. But as he walked down the hall, he realized something was different. What he ordinarily thought of as a peaceful silence in the apartment, had been replaced with an eerie feeling of emptiness. He rolled his eyes at his own dramatics and flipped the light on.

The rest of his day didn’t go any better. He got to school and went through the usual paces. Really, it would have been a completely ordinary day had it not been for the lingering discontent in the back of his head. It made him irritable and anxious, and he had no idea how to combat.

When lunch came around, Ned put a hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was okay. He shook his head, his eyes stinging with unshed tears as he fought back the overwhelming desire to pull his friend into a bone crushing hug. Being that they were in the middle of the crowded cafeteria, he fought the urge and wrapped his own arms around himself instead. He mumbled he was just in a bad mood, apologized and tried to go back to his suddenly tasteless sandwich.

Patrol was a no-go. He wanted to go out and help, but lacked the motivation. It was odd. He couldn’t think of a time he’d ever not wanted to patrol. He brushed it off as another symptom of a bad day and went straight home. He’d only been there about ten minutes before Mr. Stark texted him.

‘You’re not patrolling today?’

‘Taking a break,’ he replied, not wanting to give too much away.

‘Want to take that break at the tower? the next message read. Followed by, ‘I could use your help.’

Peter read the message over a few times, surprised that going to the tower actually sounded really nice. Hurriedly, he changed into this suit and headed in that direction.

“Hey, Kiddo!” Mr. Stark cheerfully greeted. “How goes your lack of parental supervision? I haven’t gotten any emergency calls, so I assume it’s gone well.”

Dubiously, Peter narrowed his eyes. “May asked you to check on me, didn’t she.”

Mr. Stark smiled sheepishly, his hand moving to the back of his neck. “She did. Said you sounded a little down this morning.”

Peter’s eyes tried to well up again. It was super aggravating. Especially in front of Mr. Stark.“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he growled. “I’m antsy and annoyed for no good reason.”

Mr. Stark’s head tilted to the side. “How long has May been gone?”

Peter scrubbed at his face and did a mental tally. “Almost twelve days.”

There were a few beats of silence. Then Mr. Stark beckoned him closer. “Come here, Buddy.”

“Why?” Peter asked, feeling more defensive than he should have.

“Just come here. Trust me.”

Peter did as asked. He closed the distance between them and was met with a tight embrace. He stiffened for a split second before melting into the pressure. He couldn’t restrain the fresh round of tears that sprung to his eyes. Mr. Stark tightened his grasp, swaying gently as he ran a hand up and down his back. He didn’t stop until Peter gathered a breath and pulled back on his own.

“Better?” Mr. Stark asked, one hand still squeezing Peter's bicep.

“Yeah,” he replied, his cheeks pink with mild embarrassment. “Yeah, that’s better.”

“I know you’ve been doing fine on your own, but you know you’re welcome to stay here tonight,” Tony offered. “Pizza and movies. I’ll get you to school in the morning.”

Relief Peter didn’t even know he needed, washed over him. “That actually sounds really awesome,” he sighed, leaning in for another brief hug. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. You always seem to know what I need.”

“That’s my job,” Mr. Stark said softly. “But next time you need a hug, all you have to do is ask, okay, Pete?”

“Okay,” Peter echoed. He bit back a smile and looked up through his lashes. “Can I have a hug?”

Tony barked a pleasant laugh. “Of course, Kiddo! Any time,” he said, arms outstretched for Peter to fall into. “Absolutely anytime.”

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Hi! I love you! It’s finals season and I’m barely scraping by and suffering lots, so I could use a fanfic to live through! What about a mini fic where Peter is doing some homework in his room (compound/tower, or just Tony’s house but Morgan doesn’t exist) and he has a pretty bad fever. Tony notices he’s getting frustrated really easy and checks his temperature and then lots of cuddles?

Another mini-fic! This time staring a feverish, grumpy little rain cloud Peter and a very dad-like Mr. Stark. :) Very very very mild angst and some good old-fashioned fluff. Oh. And Peter gets a hug.

Finals Week Heat 980 words

Peter sat at his desk in Mr Stark’s workshop and grasped a fistful of his hair. It was only Wednesday, and he was already burnt out. Finals had been going strong all week, and he still had two more to go. His worst subjects. Spanish and world history. He released his hair in favor of rubbing his eyes and stared at his notes. As they blurred in and out of focus he slammed his fist down on the desk.

“Easy, Pete,” Mr. Stark called from across the room. “ What’s got you all worked up over there?”

“Nothing!” Peter snapped before he could stop himself. But he was so exhausted he ached and his head was starting to throb. It was making him unreasonably irritable. “I'm not worked up! I’m just tired.”

Mr. Stark arched a single brow. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

“Does it matter? I’ve been busy for days! I think I’m allowed to be tired.” Peter flourished a dismissive hand and directed his attention to his notes. “Just go back to your work and leave me alone.”

“Hey,” Mr. Stark warned. But for some reason, Peter didn’t take the hint, He visibly bristled and narrowed his eyes.

“What?” he aggressively shouted. “I know you’re in the middle of at least three projects and I have to study. Actually. You know what? I’ll just take this to my room. It’s whatever.” Immediately, he started haphazardly stuffing things into his bag, ready to flee the situation before it escalated further.

“Nuh-uh, no way, no how. Sit back down Kid.” Mr. Stark stood up, taking on an authoritative posture. “We need to talk about your attitude.”

Peter knew he should listen, and any other day he probably would. However, the tension in his body was wound so tight, he snapped instead. “I don’t want to sit down and don't want to talk to you. I just want to get this done.”

Mr. Stark's jaw clenched. “Sit. Down. Now.”

Knowing it was best to give in, Peter threw himself into his chair and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. Whether it was out of indignation or because an unexpected chill had consumed him, he wasn’t sure. Rather than contemplate it, he glared across the room.

“What are you studying for?”

“Finals. You know that,” Peter spat.

Mr. Stark’s face remained stoney as he regarded Peter with scrutiny. A few beats passed. He sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’ve been at it for hours with the flashcards, Kiddo. Why don’t you just call it a night?”

“Because I happen to like my 4.0 GPA, Mr. Stark!” The sarcasm was thick but the sentiment was genuine. He was at the top of his class and the pressure to remain in that slot was high. “If I don’t study, I don’t get to keep it.”

Mr. Stark's head tilted to the side. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I'm fine,” Peter grumbled. “Why?”

“You’re not usually this snippy with me,” Mr. Stark casually replied. He spanned the distance between them and ran his hand through Peter’s hair, down to his neck. The contact Made Peter shiver. “You’re burning up, Buddy,” Tony said, his voice significantly softer. “FRIDAY? Get me a tempt, will you?”

“Mr. Parker’s temperature is at one-hundred and two point three degrees.”

Mr. Stark nodded and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze.“Well, that settles it. You’re definitely done studying for tonight. The good news is, you’ll have a few extra days to review the material because you are definitely not going to school to-’”

“I have to go!” Peter growled. “I have finals to take!” He wished he didn’t. Staying home sounded idea.

“Nope. Zip it. The adult is talking.” Mr Stark, sent him a look, daring him to say anything else. Peter snapped his mouth shut. “You’re not going to school with a fever of a hundred and two. Not happening. You can make up the test.”

Peter slumped in his seat. “I want to be done with them,” he mumbled.

“And I want you to feel better,” Tony replied without missing a beat. His fingers went back to Peter’s hair. “You’re clearly miserable, Buddy,”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, his eyes beginning to water. He gathered a tremulous breath and closed his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t feel good.”

“Okay, Kiddo. You’re going to be okay.” Mr. Stark wiped a stray tear from Peter’s cheek and hauled him into a firm hug. “Let’s get upstairs, hmm?”

Inside the elevator, Peter leaned into Mr. Stark. “Sorry, I yelled at you.”

“I’d say it’s okay, but I definitely don’t want you biting my head off like that,” Mr. Stark said. He paused to swipe the bangs off of Peter’s forehead. Probably gauging the fever again, in the process. “It would be much easier if you just told me when you were sick.”

Peter sighed, unsure of how to explain how difficult it was to satisfy literally everyone’s expectations. “I didn’t want to-” he began, but Mr. Stark cut him off quickly.

“Another time, Bud. We’ll talk about it another time.” They had arrived at the penthouse. Mr. Stark stepped inside first and gestured down the hall. “For now, go get in your pajamas and meet me on the couch. I’ll fetch you some meds, and we’ll watch a movie until you conk out on me.”

Peter huffed a small laugh, knowing that’s exactly what would happen. He’d arrive at the couch wearing his comfiest pajamas, soft blanket in hand. Mr. Stark would give him some pills and sit in the corner of the furniture. He’d allow Peter to burrow into his side and, together, they would pick a movie. Probably something science fiction. It didn’t really matter. Mr. Stark was right. He’d be warm and comfortable and sound asleep before they made it a quarter of the way in.

Super happy to see you again @yescaptainmarvel123875 I feel like it's been a while! Hope you are doing well and enjoy this fic!!

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

It’s me, your favorite prompts blog!

I know you’ve written depression before. Can I have a short story where Peter is struggling with high-functioning depression? On the outside everything looks normal. On the inside, he feels like crap.

And Tony notices Peter’s not himself anymore

Mini Fic #4 for this round is here! (and prompts are still open! If you have something you would like to see me write in less than 1k, send me an ask! Anon or otherwise) This hurt/comfort prompt was tricky to squeeze into so few words, but I managed it! Thanks for sending in the idea @itsmechara426!

Not Alone 811 Words

Peter wasn’t sure when it had happened. But at some point he’d realized his days were nothing more than an elaborate performance. The banter, the jokes, even the pop culture references were all meticulously crafted performances meant to shroud the weighty emotions that had settled so deeply within him. He carried them all around in the back of his head. Buried deeply behind the pleasant facade he’d grown so accustomed to. He didn’t want to burden anyone with what was surely a personal matter. Not his friends, not his aunt, and especially not Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark was a busy man. He had responsibilities pouring in from every aspect of his life. Stark Industries needed his intellect, Pepper needed her partner, and the world needed Iron Man. Peter understood this and always made a point of not demanding too much Mr. Stark’s time. He didn’t ask about lab days or seek advice. There was no reason for him to be selfish. Mr. Stark didn’t owe him anything, least of all his time. So, despite his longing for a few additional hours spent in his mentor’s presence. He kept his mouth clamped up tight.

Peter sighed, taking a seat at the edge of an abandoned building to take in the view. Mr. Stark’s number popped up on his HUD. He considered ignoring it, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. If Mr. Stark wanted to talk to him, then Mr. Stark would talk to him.

As expected, the call was pushed through after three rings. “Hey, Kiddo. I’ve got some time this afternoon. Want to stop by and fine-tune that new web-fluid you’ve been messing with?”

“Uh, Yeah, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, plastering a fake smile across his face. “That sounds awesome.”

A look crossed Mr. Stark face. But it was so fleeting that Peter didn’t have a chance to decipher it. If he were to guess, he’d say it was concern. But that didn’t make any sense. Despite the misery swirling in his chest, he was acting out an expected enthusiasm with the practiced ease of a habitual liar. He batted the suspicion away, writing it off as a mild case of paranoia.

As he entered the lab, he made sure to add a skip to his step. He offered an exuberant greeting, bolted across the room and began pulling chemical components out of the cabinet without having to be asked.

Mr. Stark joined him at the workbench, reviewed the formula and provided a few suggestions. Peter nodded along and started mixing. It felt like a typical lab day until Mr. Stark casually shifted the subject miles way from chemical bonding.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

Peter blinked, doing his best to remain upbeat and neutral. “Of course.”

“I mean about more than just science,” Mr. Stark said. He sounded frustrated but his face and tone relayed nothing but gentle concern. “I can tell you’ve not been yourself recently, and I’d really like to know what’s going on.”

“I- It’s nothing, Mr. Stark.” Peter swallowed, struggling to determine an answer that suited his act “Just- Personal stuff.”

To Peter’s relief, Mr. Stark didn’t press. He placed a gentle hand on the back of his neck and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Well, if you ever decide you do want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”

Hesitantly, Peter considered the offer. He waffled greatly between not wanting to be a nuisance and a surprising desire to open up to Mr. Stark. Although he struggled to see how it would help. Negativity had a tendency to be contagious, and he didn’t want to be the contaminant. He glanced up, his wary eyes meeting Mr. Stark’s worried ones. He suddenly felt compelled to say something. Anything to ease the building tension.

“Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on. Not really. Sometimes I just- I feel like I’m drowning,” he tentatively explained. It already felt like too much. He snapped his mouth shut and mumbled. .”The last thing I want to do is to drag you down with me.”

Mr. Stark’s expression softened. “You wouldn't be dragging me anywhere, Buddy. I’m ready to jump in willingly, life raft in hand.” He smiled sadly. “You don’t have to go through this alone, Buddy. I’m here for you.”

Not feeling obligated to handle everything on his own sounded wonderful. He wanted to follow through, open his mouth and let all the words come tumbling out. But he managed to choke them back. He wasn’t certain he was prepared for that. Instead, he leaned into Mr. Stark, initiating a rare hug. ”Thanks, Mr. Stark,'' he murmured. “But I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it just yet.”

“That's fine, Bud.” Mr. Stark turned his head, kissing the side or Peter’s head in the process. “But when you are. I’m right here.”

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Hey! I just saw your post on the mini prompt and a minute ago i was thinking of fics where peter surprises people when he speaks Italian or Spanish. could you write one with something like this? Also i really love your writing style (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)❤️❤️

Aw! Thank you so much @stardustinmyeyesstuff !! I had a lot of fun deciding where to take this prompt. But I seem to have landed somewhere between a 'Peter and Tony Speak Italian' and ' Peter Parker Calls Tony Stark Dad' trope. Haha. I hope that's okay and that you enjoy it!

Here it is, just barely under 1k, at 995 words.

Mumbled Italian

If there was one thing Peter had learned about Tony over the last year, it was that he liked to talk. He liked to talk about everything all the time, and Peter loved it. The constant chatter meant he got to have amazing conversations with the Tony Stark! And in time, it meant being able to engage in lots of playful banter too.

In tandem, he learned that if there was something Tony felt he shouldn’t say out loud, he would simply grumble it under his breath. In Italian.

Often it was complaints. Sometimes they were about Pepper forcing him to attend meetings. Other times they were about FRIDAY being a little too sassy or how Captain Rogers was a know-it-all. Peter never said anything about it. After all, he wasn’t supposed to be able to hear it. Let alone understand it. But he had enhanced senses and an Italian aunt, making it very easy for him to understand every single one of Tony’s lowly spoken words.

For a while, it was easy to ignore whispered criticism. All the way up until the day he overheard Tony mumbling about him.

He walked into the lab and dropped his backpack on the floor. Then he and Tony greeted each other as he removed his hoodie.

“How was school?” Tony asked.

“Good! I aced my math test,” Peter said, as he crossed the distance between them.

“I knew you would,” Tony smirked. “You’ve mastered that material. Why are you even in that class? You’d do so well in a college dual-enrollment progra-” he said, pausing mid-word to change the subject altogether. “What are you wearing?”

Peter looked down, unsure of what he’d put on that morning. When he saw it, he blushed three different shades of red. “Oh my God, Mr. Stark. I just threw something on this morning. I didn’t even realize what it was,” he attempted to explain.

“Okay. That’s fair,” Tony replied, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “But it doesn’t explain why you own it.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth several times while still trying to obscure the blatant Oscorp logo. “It was from a field trip,” he pathetically stated.

“A field trip, huh,” Tony replied. “And you kept the shirt? Wasn’t that trip a little, I don’t know- traumatic for you?”

“It’s just a shirt,” Peter struggled. “And I was wearing a hoodie over it all day. The only reason I took it off is you don’t like me to have strings dangling over the machinery!”

“Well, yeah. That’s a safety concern,” Tony said, “This, however, is just plain insulting. You wore an Oscorp shirt to my Stark Industries workshop,” he said, then abruptly stood up. “Actually, I’ll be right back.”

Peter sat down at his workbench to await Tony’s return. It didn’t take long. Twenty minutes later, Tony was coming back into the lab with his arms full of bags from the Stark Industries gift shop.

“Foremost, here’s the shirt you’re going to change into,” Tony said, tossing a black SI t-shirt Peter’s way. “But got one of everything for you. Including pajama pants. Did you know we sold Stark Industries pajama pants? Because I didn’t. One of those is for me.”

Peter shook his head and quickly switched out shirts, tossing the green Oscorp one into the trash bin beside the desk. Then he sat down to start his homework. And that’s when he heard it. Tony was sitting across from him, manipulating a new design while muttering under his breath.

“That child will be the death of me,” Tony nearly silently mumbled. Followed by “No son of mine is going to be caught wearing something like that,” and “Why do children always defy their fathers?”

Every word of it was spoken in fluent Italian.

Peter looked up, his eyes growing wider as Tony continued to grumble. Then, before he could stop himself, he began laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he breathlessly spouted. “It’s just that I can hear you, and I know what you’re saying and-”

“-You speak Italian?” Tony swiftly interjected. “How much of that did you understand?”

“All of it,” Peter cackled, “I understood every word, Dad.”

As Tony's cheeks began to pinken, Peter took a few deep breaths to stop the incessant giggling. He was sure that, outside of perhaps Pepper or Rhodey he was probably the only person to witness Tony Stark blushing in the last three decades. He suddenly felt a little guilty.

“I’m sorry,” he genuinely apologized.“I should have told you before that I could hear and understand you. But it was super easy to just- not listen? And after a while, I guess it just didn’t seem all that important?”

“Of course it was important!” Tony replied, but there was no hint of heat in his tone. “I can’t believe you speak Italian and didn’t tell me. Are you fluent? I thought you took Spanish in school. Wait. Do you know any other languages?”

“Aunt May’s Italian, So I learned it from her when I was little. I guess I’m fairly fluent. You’re right, I take Spanish in school and uh,” he said, pausing to mentally go through all of Tony’s many questions. “I know a little bit of Japanese just because I thought it would be fun?”

Tony blinked, then smiled widely and spread his arms. “That’s amazing.”

“You’re not mad?” Peter dubiously inquired.

“Nah,” Tony said with a small flourish of his hand. “Surprised, yes. But not mad. I probably would have said all those things anyway.”

“Did you mean it?” Peter asked. “You think of me as a son?”

“Kind of hard not to, kid. You’re a little mini-me,” Tony replied while ruffling Peter’s hair.

And all Peter could do was grin. Tony thought of him as a son and he couldn’t have been happier about it. “Thanks, Dad. You’re the best,” he said softly. But he made sure to say it in Italian.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

For the pure fluff prompt: How about one where Tony brings a sleeping Peter over to a meeting for whatever reason? Maybe because he's sick? (I've read multiple of fics but none of them have been because Peter's sick. And since you are the queen of sickfics, I'm offering you this prompt)

Anyways, hope you have a great day!

I finally made it through my last mini-fic prompt. I'm not sure it's exactly what @bluequeen0803 had in mind, but I think it turned out pretty cute! And! It's longer than the others I posted today, clocking in at 944 words!

Koala Care

“Alright, Kiddo. Time to go inside,” Tony said. When Peter didn’t move he rolled his eyes and released the seat belt himself. “Come on, Bud. I know you don’t feel good, but you can’t just stay in the car.”

Apparently, Peter had arrived at school with a minor case of the sniffles that had exploded into the full-blown flu by second period. He was stuffed up, sneezing, and had a fever high enough to alarm the school nurse. As expected, they’d tried to call May. But when they were unable to reach her, they’d pulled up his secondary contact information instead. That’s how Tony ended up ducking out between meetings to pick a sick kid up from school.

“I’m serious, Peter. I’ve got a meeting to get to, and I refuse to leave you in the garage,” he nagged. When the sole response he received was a pathetic whine, he huffed an annoyed breath. He’d already missed the second half of the R&D meeting he’d been putting off for weeks. Pepper hadn’t mentioned anything about it when he’d left the room. Although he was sure, her generosity had been more for Peter’s sake than his own. Either way, he wasn’t likely to get away with skipping out on mandatory board meetings as well.

“Do you want me to carry you?” he sarcastically inquired. Peter perked up slightly and mumbled something at a nearly inaudible level. “Was that a ‘No, Mr. Stark. I’m perfectly capable of dragging myself to the penthouse?’” he asked. He was surprised when Peter blinked up at him, his cheeks bright red with fever, and shook his head. “Wait, you do want me to carry you?” he asked, sure he’d misunderstood the response.

Peter hummed in the positive and sat up a little taller in his seat. “I’m tired,” he croaked, “and everything hurts.”

Tony considered cracking a joke about how the kid was entirely too big to be carried to bed. Then he got a good look at Peter’s glassy eyes and sighed sympathetically. “Alright, Kid. Just this once,” he said before hopping out the car and walking around to open the passenger side door.

After coaxing Peter out of the car, Tony crouched down to offer access to his back. The kid wrapped his lanky legs around his waist and his arms around his neck before propping his chin on his shoulder. He could feel heat from Peter's body radiating through the layers of his three-piece suit. “It’s like I’m giving a piggyback ride to a furnace,” he mumbled under his breath as he crossed the garage into the elevator.

The plan had been to unceremoniously drop Peter onto his bed, grab him some meds and then rush downstairs to attend his meeting. However, once he arrived in the penthouse, Peter refused to let go. “Peter, you have to get down,” he prompted. “If I don’t get to this meeting Pepper’s going to have my head. You don’t want to be responsible for my beheading do you?”

Peter giggled quietly but didn’t let go. If anything he held on more tightly.

“Okay, I guess you’re coming with me then,” Tony said, half expecting the kid to slide off of his back and slink into his bedroom. When that didn’t happen, he grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and pocketed a couple of tablets. Once he reached the elevator, he paused and craned his neck to try and get a look at the kid’s face. “Alright, Clancy. This is your last chance to disembark.”

“I don’t feel good and you’re super comfy,” Peter mumbled, half asleep, into his neck. Tony scoffed at the accusation and swayed his head.

Resigning himself to his fate, Tony sighed and entered the boardroom with a confident stride. All eyes were on him, more so than usual, as he strode across the room with his sleeping teenager attached to his back like an overgrown koala. “What?” he asked, then pulled a chair out and whipped it around so he could sit down without squashing Peter. “It’s ‘bring your kid to work’ day. Did you not get the memo? You all should really check your email more often.”

“Tony,” Pepper smilingly chastised. “There is no such day on the calendar. What are you doing?”

Tony shrugged and reached awkwardly over his shoulder to brush Peter’s sweaty bangs off of his forehead. “The kid’s sick,” he flippantly explained. Then grinned widely. “Actually, don’t people usually get time off when they have a sick kid?”

“He’s fifteen, Tony. And he’s not your kid,” Pepper laughed and Tony gasped theatrically.

“You can’t talk like that in front of my son!”

The entire boardroom went quiet, save for Pepper’s giggling and Peter’s quiet snoring. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Pepper said. “Take Peter upstairs and tuck him in. I’ll reschedule this meeting for when he’s feeling better.”

Tony opened his mouth to offer a snarky remark, but before he could Peter lifted his head, eyes still closed and said, “Thanks, Ms. Pott.”

Pepper smiled softly, crossed the room and placed her hand on Peter’s forehead. “You’re welcome, Kid,” she said, then smirked in Tony’s direction. “You did a great job getting your dad out of his meeting.”

“Yep,” Peter replied, followed by a sleepy sigh. “And now he has to take me upstairs and tuck me in.”

Still grinning, Tony turned towards the exit. He knew Pepper had a lot of explaining to do on his behalf and he was sure he’d hear about it later. But for the time being, he was more than happy to carry his clingy feverish kid up to his bed.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Sicktember is the best!!! I’m so happy you made this a thing. However… I was left hungry for one particular thing. I really want to read Peter waking Tony up early on a school morning because he doesn’t feel good. Crawling into bed with him and maybe just going back to sleep. Do you know of any fics like this, or could you possibly consider one day down the road turning into a super short (few hundred words) fic??

Another mini-fic in the books. This one turned out so so utterly soft... There is no backstory. So this can be read as adopted Peter, or Peter simply spending a few nights at the tower. It's totally up to you! I hope the requesting anon finds this prompt fill and enjoys it!

You Will Never Be a Problem 869 words

Peter laid in his bed within Mr. Stark’s penthouse. It was five-forty-three. A full seventeen minutes before his alarm was set to go off. It was a school day. But as he remained still, staring at the ceiling, he wasn’t sure attending would be the best idea. His head was aching, his stomach was uneasy and despite the copious amounts of blankets he couldn’t seem to stop shivering. He rolled over onto his side, pulled the covers all the way up to his ears and squeezed his eyes closed. He could tough it out; try to rest for another fifteen minutes, then drag himself to class. He didn’t want to be an inconvenience. Although, he’d been informed from day one that he could never be such a thing.

‘You’re not a problem, Pete. You will never be a problem. I want you here.

Maybe it was the fever talking. Or maybe the words had finally sunk in. But at that moment, he believed it.

Peter slid out of bed, swiftly grabbed his outermost blanket, a soft plush throw and wound it around his shoulders. A chill ran up his spine, prompting him to pull it in a little more closely. He considered laying back down. He could ask FRIDAY to relay a message. But he was already up and Mr. Stark had said to come to him.

‘I’m here if you need anything, Buddy. I mean it. All you have to do is come to me.’

With a deep sigh, Peter dragged himself into the dimly lit hallway. He looked left, then right, trying to determine where to go. He assumed Mr. Stark was sleeping in the master bedroom. But really, it was just as likely that he was in the lab running on nothing but coffee and inspiration. He sucked in a breath and wandered toward Mr. Stark’s room. The door was cracked open just enough that if he peeked inside, he could see Mr. Stark lying on his side clutching his pillow. Soundly asleep.

For a moment Peter hesitated. He watched Mr. Stark’s chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He wondered if he should go back to bed. He could turn off his alarm and have FRIDAY rouse him up when Mr. Stark was up. But something was stopping him. Perhaps it had to do with the way Mr. Stark had promised to be there for him, no matter the time.

‘Sleep schedule? What sleep schedule? Kid, I’m available to you day or night.’

With the hand that wasn’t holding the blanket in place, he pushed the door open. He carried himself to the edge of the bed and brought his lip between his teeth. “Mr. Stark?” he whispered. There was no reply. “Mr. Stark?” he tried again, just a little louder.

A small choked snore was followed by a yawn. Mr. Stark blinked his eyes open and ran a weary hand down his face. “Pete? What are you doing, Buddy? You okay?”

Even though Mr. Stark’s tone was gentle and kind, Peter found himself awash with a whole new wave of anxiety. He shifted his weight and lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Peter?”

“I-” Peter began. He looked up, one hand making its way to his queasy stomach. “I don’t feel good. I-”

Before he could complete his thought, Mr. Stark sat up, arm outstretched. Peter clamped his mouth shut, allowing the hand to press against his forehead. He both shudders and relaxes under the touch.

“You have a fever.”

Peter nodded in blind agreement. He’d suspected as much. He ached all the way down to his bones. “I don’t want to go to school.”

“Easy. I’ll make sure you have an excuse.” There were a few beats of silence. When Peter remained unmoving at the bedside, Mr. Stark smiled softly. “What else do you need, Bud? You didn’t wake me up for a doctor’s note.”

“I just-” Peter yawned. He shuffled his feet and tiredly planted himself on the edge of the large bed. “Can I have a hug?”

A contented sigh escaped Peter’s lips as he was engulfed by Mr. Stark’s arms. His body fell limp, the warmth and counter pressure offering a temporary reprieve from the relentless chills. His eyes closed without his permission, delivering him a hair's breadth away from sleep. It was warm and comfortable, and even as Mr. Stark released him, he didn’t want it to end. So, instead of standing up and trudging back to his own bed, he pulled his feet up onto Mr. Stark’s. He let go of his own blanket and wiggled his way under the heavy warm duvet.

“Comfy?” Mr. Stark questioned, as Peter nuzzled his face against the downy pillow. He hummed in response, too tired to say anything else. He felt a hand brush through his hair and relaxed. The mattress shifted beside him. Without thought he rolled over and tucked himself against Mr. Stark’s warm body.

“You really do feel terrible, huh, Buddy,” Mr. Stark murmured.

Peter hummed, his eyes fluttering open for only a second. “Feel better with you.”

“Yeah?” Mr. Stark chuckled. He might have said more. Peter wasn’t certain. He was already drifting back to sleep.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Okay! I got something!

Peter comes down with a small cold and Tony is way too overprotective of him. He’s the parent that’s like: “Bed, now. No getting up. You need to rest 24/7.” And Peter is a little annoyed because he’s bored and wants to at least lay on the couch and watch tv. At the same time though, he loves how protective his mentor/dad is of him.

He just wishes Tony could be protective without forcing him on bed rest.

This mini is a combination of two prompts! I just thought they would work really well together and, oh boy, they sure did! I didn't want to make Tony too overbearing but I think I hit all the right notes and what we ended up with is a very soft sickfic. 🥰

Here it is at 966 words!

Rest Assured

“Good afternoon, Mr. Parker,” FRIDAY said, as Peter stepped into the elevator. “The boss is in the penthouse. Is that where you would like to go?”

“Sure. Thanks FRI,” Peter replied, followed by a long sniff. His nose had been running all day, and he’d long since run out of tissues. That had left him sniffling for the majority of his trip to the tower.

“Hey, Kiddo!” Tony greeted as Peter arrived. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

“Sure, Mr. Stark,” he said while quickly scanning the room for a box of tissues. He didn’t see one. “I’ll be there in just a second,” he said as he stepped into the hall bathroom to blow his nose. He washed his hands immediately after. Then on a whim, stuffed another wad of toilet paper into his pocket before exiting.

“What’s up?” he asked while looking over Tony’s shoulder. There was a small hologram projecting from a tablet. It looked like an aircraft.

Tony opened his mouth to answer but before he could, Peter sneezed three times, followed by several sniffs. “Are you sick?” he asked.

“Not really,” Peter said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just a cold.”

“You should be resting,” Tony replied as if Peter hadn’t said anything at all.

Peter’s eyes widened in mild surprise. “What are you talking about?” he questioned. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re sick,” Tony countered. “And sick people are supposed to rest.”

Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head. He was glad Tony cared enough to be concerned. Even if it was a little disproportionate to the situation. “I think I’ll be okay,” he promised. “What did you want to show me?”

“Nope. That can wait. You shouldn’t be up,” Tony replied without missing a beat. Afterward, he paused, one eyebrow raised. “Does May know you’re sick?”

“I’m barely sick and yes, she knows. She gave me a little packet of tissues this morning and everything.” He said, then sneezed again. That was followed by a grunt of frustration as he wiped his nose. It was starting to get sore.

In an instant, Tony hopped off the couch and closed the tablet. “That’s it,” he clipped. “You’re laying down. I’ll go grab you a pillow and a banket.” After watching Peter wipe his nose with toilet paper he shook his head. “And some actual tissues. I think I have some in the hall closet. Take off your shoes, get comfortable, I’ll be right back.”

“Mr. Stark, I don’t-” Peter began, but Tony was already out of sight. Rather than complete his thought, he sighed. Next he kicked his shoes off and sat down as instructed.

Tony returned moments later with half the linen closet in his arms. He dropped two pillows on the corner of the couch said, “Lay down.”

Unwilling to argue, Peter huffed and put his head on the pillows. He’d barely stretched out before Tony was spreading mutiple blankets over his body. “Are you tucking me in, right now?” he asked, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe,” Tony quipped. “You got a problem with that, Kiddo?”

Peter laughed as he shook his head and snuggles into the covers. He would never admit it, but he was tired. Although it was easy enough to blame that on a long day at school.

“Okay,” Tony said as he smoothed out the outermost blanket.. “I’m going to grab you some water and cold medicine. Maybe some hot tea. Do you like tea? I’m getting you some tea,”

Amused, Peter asked, “You know this is all very unnecessary, right?”

Tony scoffed and gently knuckled Peter on the side of his head. “Just shut up and let me take care of you, you little punk.”

Before long, there was a plethora of cold supplies strewn across the coffee table. Peter sat up to swallow the tablets and sip at the tea. It was better than he expected. The copious amount of honey was nice, and the steam did wonders for his clogged sinuses.

“Can I see what you were working now?” he asked, once he set his empty mug side.

Tony glanced up from where he’d reengaged with the table and narrowed his eyes. “No. You’re resting,” he said with finality.

“I can rest and look at your schematics,” Peter huffed. “Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Tony hummed and reached over to place his hand over Peter’s face.  “Close your eyes,” he said. “You need a nap.”

That lasted for all of two minutes, then Peter sat up. “This is boring,” he said, emphisized by a dramatic sigh.

“It’s supposed to be boring. You’re sick,” Tony replied without ever looking up form his work. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s just a cold, Mr. Stark,” laughed, then sniffed. “I don’t even have a fever.”

“That doesn’t make you any less sick,” Tony easily replied.

“Fine, whatever,” Peter grumbled. Although, he was fully smiling as he snuggled down into the blankets. Five minutes later, he yawned and decided the medicine must have started working because he could breathe through his nose again.

He sighed deeply and allowed his body to relax. Then just as he was right on the verge of sleep, he felt a hand brush through his bangs. “That’s better,” he heard Tony whispered just before a kiss was dropped onto his forehead. That was new, and it caused him to crack one eye open.

“Did you jus’ kiss me?” he sleepily mumbled.

Tony froze, clearly having not expected to get caught. Although he managed to recover quickly. “I sure did,” he confidently replied, then gave Peter’s head a gentle shove into the pillows. “Now deal with it. Go to sleep, Kid.”

Peter giggle languidly and closed his eyes before mumbling, “Love you too, Mr. Stark.”

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

New Mini-Fic!!

Just a lil something that popped into my head the other day. Special thanks to spideysensible (on AO3) for helping me with some of the finer details.

At 717 words, here's a slightly different take on Tony asking Peter to stop calling him 'Mr. Stark.'

Enjoy!

---

Tony has been trying to get Peter to call him ‘Tony’ instead of ‘Mr. Stark’ for months. The refusal started as something akin to a game, a bit, something of a joke between them. But the longer it went on, the more bothered he became by it. Eventually, he decided he was going to have to sit Peter down to talk about it. 

“Pete, please. How many times do I have to ask you to call me Tony?” Tony questioned as the two of them worked side by side on the newest iteration of the spider-suit.

“Once more, as always, Mr. Stark,” Peter cheekily replied.

Rather than laugh as usual at the obvious banter, Tony grew contemplative. He understood that amongst the teasing, he’d never made it clear that he was serious. There was a small part of him that was worried he’d let the joke go on for too long. But he wanted to adress it. And after some thought, he decided that initiating that conversation sooner rather than later would probably be best “Hey, kid?” he questioned, already making his way toward the small break area. “Come sit with me for a minute. We need to talk.” He could sense Peter’s unease and smile reassuringly. 

Even so, Peter looked nervous as he crossed the room towards the couch.

“I know we’ve been making light of it- you calling me Mr. Stark. But I wanted you to know that it actually bothers me when you call me that. Mr. Stark is how colleagues, coworkers, reporters, and random strangers address me. But I know you; you’re practically my kid. And because of that, you calling me Mr. Stark makes me feel kind of uncomfortable,” he said. He sighed and ran a hand down his face before reluctantly admitting, “That and, well, it reminds me of my dad.”

Peter bowed his head. Tony placed a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “You’re fine, Bud. This is on me. I should have said something a long time ago,” he said.

When he was sure Peter had relaxed, he began to explain. “With my friends,” he said, then paused and tilted his head. “With my family- Tony is my preferred name. I would really appreciate it if you could try to call me Tony.”

Peter nodded his head a bit at his lip. “I mean, I can totally work on that but-” he said hesitantly began. “But I’m probably going to mess up a lot. It’s just that my Aunt May- and my Uncle Ben when he was here- they taught me that it wasn’t good manners to call an adult by just their first name. They said that calling them mister or misses was a sign of respect and I just really want to show you that respect Mr. Uh- Tony.”

“Would it help if I told you that using my preferred name, is being respectful?” Tony suggested.

Peter nodded his head. “I know that. I do. And I want to. It’s just that it’s a habit that’s been drilled into my head since I was a little kid. And I know that’s not an excuse! But just wanted you to understand why I might mess up.”

“I appreciate you sharing that with me, Bud,” Tony said, smiling softly. “And while we’re on the subject, is there anything you would prefer I did or didn’t call you?”

“Do I have to tell you why?” Peter asked, looking up through his lashes.

“Of course not. We’re setting boundaries here, and boundaries don’t require an explanation. Not unless you decide you want to give one.”

“Well, there’s this one nickname,” Peter whispered. “You’ve never used it! But since you asked, I, uh- I don’t like to be called Einstein. Like, at all.”

Tony was a little confused but flourished his hand in acceptance all the same. “Done, deal, Kiddo” he quipped. “I can handle that. Anything else?”

Peter promptly shook his head.

“Great. You let me know if that changes, though. Alright, Kiddo?” Tony requested, hoping to keep the door open for future conversations.

To his relief, Peter agreed. “Perfect,” he said, hIs words accompanied by a genuine smile. “Ready to get back to those suit upgrades?”

Peter smiled between Tony and the workspace, replying, “Yeah, Tony. We definitely should.”

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

This prompt was sent to me by @acasualcrossfade via dm. And here it is, at 582 words!

Toasty Warm

"You know, as close to the holidays as we are, you people sure aren’t feeling very generous,” Peter grumbled as he webbed himself towards the Avengers Tower. It was late, he’d been super busy all evening and at some point, the heater in his suit had decided to malfunction. He was absolutely freezing.

A few minutes later, he was literally siding across the penthouse’s icy balcony and crashing into the door. “Ow,” he groaned, falling forward when the door he was still leaning against was suddenly opened.

“Pete?” Tony questioned, extending his hand to haul Peter to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“The heater in the suit’s not working, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied, his teeth chattering as he spoke. “I’m cold, and this was closer than my apartment.”

“Well, let’s get you warmed up,” Tony smilingly replied while simultaneously ushering Peter down the hall. “Go get changed. I'll make you some hot chocolate.”

Peter went into his room without prompting and pulled some warm socks and pajamas out of the dresser. He was already there and had no intentions of going back out into the frigid weather. With that thought, he texted May to let her know where he was and that he was safe.

“Well, don’t you look cozy,” Tony chuckled as Peter shuffled into the living room.

“Actually, I'm still freezing,” Peter replied, already tugging the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping it around his shoulders.

Tony smiled reassuringly and carried a pair of mugs into the room. He promptly handed one to Peter before bringing the second one up to his own lips to gently blow at the steam. “This should definitely help with that,” he invariably stated, then took a tentative sip.

The cup was warm in Peter’s hands and the steam on his face felt wonderful. He breathed in the sweet scent before taking a small sip of his own. “It’s good, Mr. Stark. Thank you,” he said.

With a hum of acknowledgement, Tony leaned back on the couch. Peter, in turn, pressed up against him, still shivering. They remained that way for a little while, Peter attempting to sap up all the heat from the body beside him. When the chill in his bones didn’t lessen, he sighed. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be warm again,” he grumbled. “You should just change my official name to Spider-sicle.”

Tony huffed a delighted laugh and unwound himself from Peter’s hold. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” he said. “I’ve got a better idea.”

Dubiously, Peter keenly watched Tony leave the room. He could hear his shuffling around in the master bedroom, the hallway and the rarely used laundry room. He wondered what he was searching for. Whatever it was, he sincerely hoped it was something pleasantly warm.

A good ten minutes passed before Tony reappeared. “Here you go,” Tony said as he unceremoniously pulled a thick hoodie over his head. “Nice and toasty, straight from the drier.”

Peter closed his eyes, pulled his hands into the ample sleeves, and sighed. Subsequently a big fluffy blanket was draped over his shoulders. “This is amazing, Mr. Stark,” Peter breathed.

“Yeah?” Tony asked as he plopped back down onto the couch. “Think that'll be enough to thaw you out?”

Peter laughed happily and held up the edge of the blanket in invitation. And when Tony scooted under it, he immediately leaned onto his side. “Yeah, Mr. Stark,” he contentedly replied. “This is absolutely perfect.”

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

peter finds a monkey loose in queens and brings it to tony just as the news starts talking about the missing monkey (loosely inspired by that situation with the dallas zoo a bit ago!)

Excellent prompt, my friend. This mini turned out to be completely chaotic and I love that for all of us. Haha

This one is also cutting it close to the 1k limit at 971 words.

[Side note: Thank you to everyone who has sent prompts in. I have at least two more I plan to write over the next couple of days, so be sure to check out the tag #happyaspie mini fic. For those who are new, all mini fics are eventually added AO3 but they are always posted here first!]

Literal Monkey Business

As Peter was zipping through the city, a sight that wasn’t terribly unusual caught his eye. At the edge of Central Park, below a vast tree, was a child standing on his toes with his arms stretched upward. As he swooped toward the ground, he wondered if he’d be saving a stranded cat or kite.

“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted, then happily narrowed the eyes of the spider-man mask. “What up?”

“A monkey,” the little boy giggled while trying to grab the lower branches. “There’s a monkey up there!”

Peter canted his head to the side and gave the child a contemplative look. He appeared to be no older than six with his brightly colored school bag. He wondered if the boy was simply playing; something to entertain himself on his way home from school. Although the kid was being rather persistent for an innocent game of pretend.

Cautiously, he looked through the leaves, and sure enough, sat right at the top of the tree was a decent-sized light grayish-brown monkey. “There really is a monkey,” he mused aloud. “I wonder where it came from.”

“Can you catch him?” the boy pleaded. “Please, Spider-man? I want to take him home with me!”

Peter took a deep breath and swayed his head. “I’ll catch him,” he said, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to take him home. He’s not a pet. I need to figure out where he belongs, so he can go back to his family, okay?”

“You’ll take him back to his family?” The boy asked.

“That’s what would be best for him,” Peter said, then looked down an adjacent street lined with colorful rowhouses. “And you too. I bet there’s someone waiting for you at home.”

“Yeah,” the child sighed, Then with a small wave, he ran toward the sidewalk shouting, “Bye Spider-Man!” as he went.

Satisfied that the kid was back on track to get home, Peter focused on the animal that was eyeing warily from above. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to go about catching him. Literal monkey business simply wasn’t in his usual repertoire.

“Hi there, Mr. Monkey,” he whispered as he began ascending the tree. “Wanna home? I can help you.”

However, the monkey didn’t seem to understand or care about his intentions. The moment Peter was within arms reach the creature squeaked indignantly and took off into another tree. “Ah, come on, George! Can I call you George? You look like a George,” Peter rambled as he shot a web onto a lamp post and pulled himself in the monkey’s direction. However, the monkey was quick to abandon his new location in favor of another.

“George, please!” he shouted as followed behind the leaping monkey. What Peter had hoped would be a simple task was turning into a wild monkey chase. Every time he’d gained an edge, the animal would abruptly change directions causing him to fall slightly behind.

“You know,” Peter groused, mid-turn. “If you don’t stop running from me, I’m going to have to change your name from George to Mojo Jojo. Is that what you want? You want this to be your villain origin story?”

It took a while but eventually, Peter was able to strategically get ahead of the illusive monkey and nab him from behind. Things didn’t get easier from there. The monkey strained and wriggled with all his might trying to get out of Peter’s sticky grasp.

“Calm down, Georgie Jojo,” Peter hissed, while expertly dodging the paws that were slapping up against this mask. “I’m trying to help you!”

The monkey did not calm down.

Peter sighed as he kept the squirming animal at arm's length. “Sorry, little guy. But I can’t wing with you moving around like this. We’re going to have to-” he said, pausing as he shot a few webs and hurriedly fashioned them into what amounted to an infant front carrier.

“There. You can ride here while I swing,” he said, already aiming his webs at the closest building. “I don’t know where you came from, but I know who to ask.”

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter said as walked into the lab, sans mask and with a finally semi-calm monkey attached to his chest. “Do you know where-” he began, but Tony appeared and instantly started talking over him.

“Why do you have that monkey?”

“Uh, I found him?” Peter replied.

“Where?” Tony asked, an unreadable expression crossing his face.

“In Central Park. And I thought that was kind of an odd place to find a monkey so I brought him here. I thought you might be able to help me figure out where he came from.”

Tony huffed an amused laugh, gestured towards the television, and signaled for FRIDAY to raise the volume. The newscaster was standing just outside the Central Park Zoo discussing the escape of the park’s youngest Snow Monkey.

“Oh,” Peter said, feeling a little silly for not even considering the monkey may have come from the very local zoo. Especially since it was no more than a mile from where the boy had found him.

“Yeah, oh” Tony gleefully repeated. “You up for swinging him all the way back, or should I make a call?”

Peter looked down at the monkey, who was just starting to become restless again and shook his head. If he was being honest, the animal was starting to grow on him. “I’ll take him,” he decided but made a point of having FRIDAY snap a few pictures of his new friend before leaving.

Later, photographs and videos of Peter’s monkey chase went viral. Mostly the ones of him with the animal safely strapped to his chest. Because of that, no one was surprised when the snow monkey exhibit became one of Spider-Man’s favorite places to hang out.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Today, on Discord, there was a discussion about whether eating Pop Tarts with peanut butter sandwiched between them was genius or horrifying. Then @ctrsara said 'You need to write a short about Peter making that and eating it in front of Tony.' And you know what? She was right. So here it is at 780 words.

Peter Parker's Quadruple Peanut Butter Pop Tart Sandwich

Tony came up from the lab to the penthouse kitchen hoping to find some coffee and maybe a protein shake or gluten free waffle. What he found instead was his young mentee sitting on the counter biting into a stack of strawberry frosted Pop Tarts.

“What are you doing?” He asked, wondering when Pop Tarts had become something he stocked in his kitchen. He had no recollection of having ever bought any. He made a mental note to check with FRIDAY later.

“Eating breakfast,” Peter replies, his mouth still full of half chewed food. Tony opened his mouth to chastise him for his lack of manners, then spied an empty Pop Tart box beside the trash can. It was fine. He likely wasn’t the right person to correct that kind of thing anyway. Some people would call it hypocritical. As such, he simply rolled his eyes and picked the box up to put it all the way in the bin.

“Are you eating an entire box of Pop Tarts?” he asked next.

Peter swayed his head, taking a brief moment to swallow. “No. It’s only two packs.”

Tony blinked as his brain tried to process how anyone could employ the phrase ‘only two packs’ in reference to cheap breakfast pastries. Especially when they were packaged in pairs.

“Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, having clearly misread his expression. “Did you want some?”

After taking a moment to clear his thoughts, Tony shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he firmly asserted. “There’s nothing in those but pure sugar and empty calories.”

“Are you parenting me right now?” Peter asked with a little too much amusement in his voice. Tony opened his mouth to refute but before he could arrange a singular word, the kid was waving around a half empty jar of peanut butter.

“Besides, I added peanut butter between them,” Peter added, as thought that made eating four Pop Tarts in one sitting any better.

“Okay so let me get this straight,” Tony said, then paused for emphasis. “You’re eating four Pop Tarts. With peanut butter sandwiched between them. For breakfast.”

As Peter giddily nodded his head, Tony stared in disbelief. 

“What?” peter eventually proclaimed. “The peanut butter adds protein!”

“Well, I’m thrilled you’re getting your protein and all but I think we could come up with a few healthier breakfast options. Don’t you?” Tony asked, as he finally crossed the kitchen toward the coffee maker.

“What, like that green juice you like to drink in the mornings?” Peter asked, still munching away on his quadruple peanut butter Pop Tart sandwich.

“I mean, that would be a promising start,” Tony said with a quirk of his brow. “It's full of fiber and has four servings of fruits and vegetables.”

“No offense, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, his nose scrunched up in dramatic disgust, “but it’s also really gross.”

Tony rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the counter to wait for his coffee to brew. “Well I guess that means I have a more sophisticated palate than you.” he smoothly replied.

“You know if doesn't actually matter how many empty calories I eat, right, Mr. Stark,” Peter questioned before shoving another bite into his mouth. “I have an enhanced metabolism. I’ll burn right through this. No big deal.”

Tony sighed, unable to argue with that. “Perks of being a superhuman spider-person, huh?” he absentmindedly questioned, while digging around in the cabinets for his favorite mug. As an afterthought, he pulled one of the aforementioned bottles of green juice out of the refrigerator as well, just to balance it out. And that got him thinking. “But still, you could probably make your next snack at least a little bit healthier, right?”

Peter pulled a face then pointed an accusatory finger in Tony’s direction. “You still sound like somebody's dad,” he adamantly accused.

Unable, or perhaps unwilling to argue, Tony shook his head. “Sure, Kid. Whatever you say,” he vaguely conceded. Afterward, he realized the coffee had finished brewing. Subsequently, he picked up the carafe and poured a decent serving into this mug. He took a tentative sip, cautious not to burn his tongue and hummed in satisfaction. He could hear Peter giggling beside him and shot him a mildly warning look.

“Yeah, yeah, knock it off, Kiddo,” he blandly stated, then winked and offered a aoft smile. “How about when you’re done with that monstrosity, you grab an apple and meet me in the lab. We’ve got work to do.”

Peter smiled back and without hesitation, shoved the last bite into his mouth. Around he mumbled, “You got it, Mr. Stark,” and all Tony could do was laugh.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Someone send me an Irondad and Spiderson pure fluff prompt. Maybe I'll write a mini fic! 💙❤️