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“Peter, if you bite my fingers-- do not bite my fingers,” Tony warns, holding the cotton just by his mouth. He doesn't want to hold Peter's jaw because he knows it's sore, but he won't stop squirming.
“Imma bi’ you!” Peter says again, snapping his teeth at Tony's fingers.
“ Do not,” he repeats. “Just let me put these in your mouth.”
“An’mal crackers?” Peter asks, his eyes widening.
Tony sticks a ball of cotton in his mouth before Peter can close it. “No. Cotton. It will help your mouth.”
“Ask him to do it,” Bruce says, chuckling as he watches from the side.
“He tried swallowing it the first time.” Tony sighs, attempting to poke the cotton in place without the little shit biting his finger.
“You're the one that said you had it under control. Remember? May said she had work--.”
“Yes, Bruce, I remember. Please don't remind me-- ow, Peter.” Tony let his attention go to Bruce for a moment and Peter snapped on his finger.
Peter giggles. “Gotcha!”
Tony rolls his eyes; he can't be mad at the kid when he has no control over himself. Peter had been anxious before he got the laughy gas and begged Tony to stay away from him until it wore off.
“Peter, if you snap at me again, I'm recording all of this and uploading it to YouTube,” Tony warns, as he sticks the second piece of cotton in his mouth.
The snapping thankfully stops once the pieces of cotton are stuck in Peter's mouth. It's probably because the kid is too distracted at the feeling. His eyes widen and he goes cross-eyed trying to look at his mouth.
“Okay, squirt, careful. Your face’ll get stuck like that.” Tony chuckles, tapping his nose.
“Mah mou’f is so fu’y,” Peter says, reaching up to poke at his chipmunk cheeks.
Tony intercepts his hands before he can. “Stop. Give your mouth time to heal please.”
“I ha’f su...su’pah-- fas’ healin’ Peter settles on when the word ‘superpowers’ is too hard for him to pronounce.
“Good for you. Just lay down and maybe take a nap.” Tony ruffles his hair. “Are you sleepy? I bet you’re a sleepy spider-baby,” Tony teases with a grin.
“‘M not sleepy!” Peter insists, sounding frustrated.
Tony has to hold back his laughter at this. “Oh, really? You look like you do when you’re getting ready for a nap. Your eyes are droopy, your words are all jumbled and I think if your head hit that pillow, Spider-Baby would be down for naptime.”
“‘m I Spider-Baby?”
“Sure are, kiddo.”
Peter pouts. “No. I no’ a baby. An’ I no’ sleepy.”
“Of course, not,” Tony says, his voice full of amusement. “But why don't you try for me?”
His eyes widened. “For you?”
“Yup.”
Peter immediately falls backwards with a plop. His head hits the pillow, his eyes already shut, and he starts to fake snore.
“Peter,--.”
He snores loudly.
“I know you're awake, weirdo.” Tony rolls his eyes.
“Shhh, Mis’r S’ark. Spider-Baby sleepin’.”
Tony leans forward and runs his fingers through Peter’s curls. He hopes the feeling is soothing enough to put him to sleep. He really isn't sure how long it'll take for this to wear off since Bruce had to give him a bigger dosage to work.
His fake snoring stops after a few moments and Tony thinks he's finally sleeping it off when suddenly, one of his brown eyes pop open.
“Hi, ‘ony,” he says, his voice muffled from the cotton in his mouth. He smiles and a trail of drool leaves his mouth. Tony wipes it off with his sleeve for him
“Hello, Peter.”
“Did I trick you?”
“Hmm?” Tony furrows his brow, attempting to keep up with Peter’s brain on laughy gas-- he has enough trouble when he wasn't drugged up.
“You think I was sleepin’?”
Tony has to stop himself from laughing. “Oh, yes. You fooled me good.”
Peter smiles widely, cheeks puffing even more. Tony watches the cotton to make sure it doesn't come out of place.
“Now, how about we sleep for good, okay?” Peter doesn't look too happy at that idea, so he tries, “I'll take a nap too.”
“You ‘ake naps?” Peter’s nose scrunched up adorably.
“In order to get Spider-Babies to sleep I do,” Tony replies. He'd been referring to Peter as Spider-Baby a lot since he's been happily doped up. But, it’s true. He's acting like a two-year-old child instead of a teenager. Not that Tony minds.
It's nice to see Peter so carefree without a worry in the world. It's how he should always be. Smiles without hiding tears from nightmares. Nightmares that the kid has much too often.
“‘m not sleepy. Wanna stay awake!” Peter tries to sit back up, but Tony has to help him so he doesn't tumble off the chair.
“Why do you wanna stay awake?” Tony asks, his hand still on Peter's arm.
“‘Cus wha’ if I wake up and you're gone?” Peter asks bluntly. There's no hesitation.
Tony moves his hand from Peter's arm to hold his hand. “I'm not going anywhere. I will be right here the entire time you sleep.”
Peter tilts his head and he looks like a puppy.
“What's that look for?”
He keeps staring.
“Stop it,” Tony says, staring back.
Peter doesn't look away or say something word.
“You're seriously creeping me out, Grady Twin.”
Peter smiles and says, “You're a very handsome man.”
Tony blinks, trying to process what he just said. “Thanks...I think--.”
“And smart. Brillant! Really funny.” Peter means every word genuinely and Tony can't help but feel a bit flustered. It's a well-known fact that Peter Parker has adored Tony Stark since he was a kid, but he never went full on fanboy in front of him. But they're past that stage anyway-- the hero worship has worn enough that Peter isn’t. an anxious mess whenever he hangs out with Tony. He doesn't try to spend every second proving his worth.
“Thanks, kiddo. But you're just as handsome and brilliant as me. Definitely more so.”
“You're ‘ony S’ark,” Peter awed.
“Sure am. You've know me for how long? Three years?” Three years, five months and eleven days.
“Can’ believe I know ‘ony S’ark. Pinch me!” He lifts his wrist up to his face level.
“I'm not going to pinch you, Peter--.”
“This is so cool!”
“Would you like an autograph?” Tony teases, but Peter takes it seriously.
“Yes! Can you sign my cas’?” He goes to move again and Tony has to keep him steady.
“Peter-- you don't have a cast.” Tony chuckles softly.
“Then why am I in the hos’pal?”He looks around in confusion.
“You got your teeth pulled,” Tony replies patiently.
Immediately, Peter's eyes well up. “W-wha’?”
“Your-- you got your wisdom teeth out.” Tony pauses. “Peter, why are you crying?”
He starts sniffling as big fat tears fall down his face. “I didn't even s-say goo’bye--.”
“To your teeth?”
“An’, an’ now I can' ge’ your au’ograph!” He starts to sob as he rubs his cheeks frantically to dry his tears.
“Hey-- it's okay, squirt. I can sign something else. A piece of paper? Your forehead?” He jokes, trying to get Peter to stop crying over nothing.
“Wha’ ‘bou’ my ‘eeth?” He lifts his hands, but before he can touch his mouth, Tony grabs them.
“No touching,” he says like he's scolding a child. “You need to let it heal.”
“I miss my ‘eeth,” Peter moans miserably. “I didn’ say goodbye!”
Tony raises his eyebrows, holding back a laugh. “How about this: later when you're feeling better, you can go to Bruce and ask him to see your teeth.”
Peter sniffles quietly. “Do they miss me?”
Tony squeezes his hand. “Yeah, buddy, I'm sure they do.” Peter nods and tries to move his hands again, but Tony is still holding them. “Pete, no touch.”
Peter lets out a low whine, trying to fall backwards, but Tony has a firm grip and he refuses to let Peter push himself off the chair.
“What are you doing?”
“‘m boreeeeeed,” he whines again, dragging out the word.
“How about we sleep, huh?” Tony stands up and tries to lift Peter into a laying position. Peter notices this and decides to go boneless on Tony. He giggles as Tony bears all of his weight. “God, you're so annoying,” Tony says with no real heat behind it.
“I know I am bu’ wha’ are you?” He mocks and it sounds ridiculous around the cotton in his mouth.
“You know how embarrassed you're gonna be tomorrow when I remind you of everything you did. Hell, I could ask you anything and you'd tell me. Peter's got no fiter,” Tony says, although he has no intentions of taking advantage of him in this state.
“Pe’er has a filter--,” Peter starts, but cuts himself off with a laugh. “I said Pee- er.”
“Oh, my God,” Tony groans in fond exasperation as he settles Peter down on the chair. “Really? Is that how drugged up you are? Pee jokes are funny?”
“Pee jokes are always funny, Mis’er S’ark,” Peter says seriously.
“Of course, they are.” Tony rolls his eyes, pulling the blanket back around him. “Now, how about you take your nap.”
“‘m not sleepy.”
“Yes, you are. I know my Spider-Baby. You’re exhausted.” Peter starts pouting and it's the cutest thing in the world. “Sorry, kiddie, not gonna work on me.”
“I haf’a sleep?”
“Yup. Unless you wanna do anything else embarrassing like reveal a secret crush or what you have planned to buy me for my birthday, he teases as he smooths down the blanket.
“Han Solo,” he says quickly.
Tony blinks. “Well, uh, that's not really a surprise.”
Peter frowns and says, “Never told anyone.”
“Didn't need to, bud. It's painfully obvious. And if Han Solo weren't a fictional character, I'd totally try and hook you two up when you got older.”
And Peter's eyes start welling up with tears again and Tony curses under his breath. He just got the kid to stop crying. “Why are we crying again, buddy?”
“You're so nice ,” Peter says.
That catches Tony by surprise. “What?”
“You’re the nices’ person I know. You don’ haf’a deal with me. Bu’ you do. You're the bes’. You coulda lef’ me ‘lone so many ‘imes, bu’ you never do. Never.” He starts wiping his eyes again.
“Okay, shhh, it's okay,” Tony shushed him quietly. “Don't cry over me, squirt.”
“I can never thank you for everthin’ you've done. You'll never know how much I apprecia’e i’”. He tries to sit up, but Tony refuses to let him. “You don’ haf’a bu’ you do. You're there when Unca’ Ben would have.”
If they keep this conversation going like this, Peter is definitely going to be crying. “Hey, it's no problem. You're my kiddo. I'll always be here for you.”
Peter smiles and a small trail of drool dribbles down his chin again. The kid doesn't seem to notice.
“Let’s get this drool off your chin, buddy.” Tony uses his sleeve to wipe the saliva off of him. He realizes how gross it is after he does it, but he can't bring himself to care.
Parents did gross things when taking care of their children without a second thought. Not that Tony sees himself as Peter's parent, but there was that time when Peter had a stomach bug and was puking his brains out all night. Tony was by his side from the moment he started until he stopped, rubbing his back, soothing him, and cleaning up the messes in between. So a little bloody saliva on his sleeve was nothing.
“All clean?” Peter asks.
“Yup,” Tony says, his voice soft, “all clean.”
“Good because, ‘ony,” Peter says, “I'm a lil sleepy.”
Tony laughs. “Alright, kiddie, lay down and I'll be right here when you wake up.”
Peter ignores him, which isn't a surprise. Kid does that when he's normal. He scoots over on the chair and pats the cushion next to him. “C’mon.”
Tony stares at the space and then back at Peter. “There's no way I'm fitting there.”
Peter reaches over and tugs on Tony's arm. “C’moooon. Wan’ ‘ou ‘o sleep nice ‘oo.”
“I can sleep perfectly fine right here, Underoos,” Tony reassures him.
“No. Here,” Peter insists as his face sets into a stern glare that really isn't very threatening.
Tony rolls his eyes. “Fine, but when I don't fit, I come back to my original spot.” He sighs heavily as he stands and sits in the vacant spot. He fits on his side with the arm of the chair digging into his back and he's about to complain when Peter starts shifting.
He picks himself up slightly, allowing Tony to lay on his back comfortably and then he settles against his side. He pillows his head on his shoulder and practically sits in his lap. But it's surprisingly comfortable. They fit like a puzzle.
Tony holds his breath, waiting for Peter to move and realize he'd be better with Tony off of the chair. He's actually embarrassed to admit he'd miss the warmth of the kid cuddled against him immediately. But Peter doesn’t complain or change his mind. “You okay?” Tony asks.
“No.”
Tony blinks, already ready to leave. “What's wrong? Am I hurting your mouth?”
Peter huffs. “You forgo’ my fav’ri’ par’,” he replies.
“Your favorite part--?”
Peter grabs Tony’s hand and brings it up to his hair. He places his fingers in his curls and moves his hand back and forth. Tony realizes what he's doing.
“You want me to play with your hair?”
“Yes, please.”
Tony smiles and begins to softly card his fingers through his messy curls. “Of course.”
“I love you, ‘ony,” Peter mumbles, his voice already thick with sleep.
Tony freezes and doesn't continue his carding until Peter grunts. He can't believe Peter just...he said he loves him. Love.
He knows they've grown much closer and while Peter always had a bad case of hero worship, this is different. This is pure adoration and devotion to a someone he sees as a...father.
Tony smiles, feeling his eyes burn and takes a risk as he presses his lips to the crown of Peter's head. He won't remember it when he wakes up. “I love you too, Peter.”