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determinedwriter · 2 months ago

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My Little Hawk (Tony Stark x Daughter OC)

Title from Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens

Content Warnings: sickness, seizure, vomiting, hospital stay, medical procedures

Tony raises Ro from birth AU

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Tony

Ro has been under the weather lately. It started with just mild headaches, but they’re getting worse. She tells me she’s been getting chills. I checked her temperature and she has a fever, so I assume it’s just a cold, maybe the flu.

I put her down for bed not too long ago and now I’m working on a car and doing some tune ups when I hear little footsteps enter the garage.

“Do I hear a little gremlin?” I tease, coming out from under the car. “What are you doing up?”

She frowns, looking pale and clammy. “I don’ feel good, Daddy…”

“Oh baby, let’s get you more medicine.” I coo.

“I don’t like it. It’s icky.” She complains.

I card my fingers through her hair and kneel in front of her. “I know, mini. But you have to take it so you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t feel better yet…” Ro pouts. “When is it gonna work?”

I sigh. “Soon. Come on, let’s go back to bed. I have something else that might help you feel better too.”

I take out a project I’ve been working on, looking at the glow in the dark aromatherapy and voice commanded stuffed bear with Jarvis installed to help monitor her breathing and heartbeat while she sleeps to keep my mind at ease.

She smiles weakly when she sees it, hugging it to her chest. “Th…th…tank you, Daddy.”

Ro doesn’t quite have her th sounds down yet, still having a baby voice. I’m gonna hate when it goes away. She’s growing up too fast.

Rubbing her eyes, Ro sways on her feet. “Mmm…feel sick…”

I hate seeing her like this. It breaks the heart I didn’t think I had. “I know. I know, hon. It’ll be better soon. I promise.”

She suddenly vomits all over the bear and the front of her ninja turtle pajamas, immediately bursting into tears. “I’m s-sorry, Daddy!”

I put the bear aside and scoop her up in my arms. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay. Don’t be sorry.”

“I ruined it…” She sniffles, pointing at the bear.

“I’ll fix it.” I reply. “Daddy fixes things, remember?”

Ro nods. “Uh huh…I ‘member…”

I kiss her head. “Let’s get you into a nice bubble bath, huh? And fresh pjs.”

She snuggles into me, probably staining my shirt with vomit, but I don’t care. Some things are more important than the grossness that comes with parenthood. Raising a six year old tends to cross into gross territory often. Especially when your six year old likes to make mud pies and play with worms.

And eat spaghetti with her hands. It took forever to get her to use a fork. It wasn’t even that she didn’t know how. It was that she didn’t want to.

I love that kid to death.

She barely has any energy in the bathtub, barely able to sit up straight while I gently scrub her body, trying to relax her by massaging her scalp with shampoo and conditioner, washing it out with warm water and brushing her hair softly.

Her eyes droop and close, fighting to stay awake. I quickly take her out of the bath and help her dry off, dressing her in a pink nightgown with little white polka dots on it.

I’m barely able to brush her teeth due to her fatigue, but I manage, carrying her to bed and taking her temperature.

It’s gotten higher. I thought the medicine would’ve helped by now. “Get some sleep, bambina.”

“Can you hum Nonna’s song?” She asks with a yawn.

I grin. “Yeah, of course I can.”

Anything for you, Ro.

She falls asleep while I hum the song my mother used to hum to me. I think it’s something she made up. I never heard any words, just the humming and vocalizing. It always put me right to sleep.

I’d honestly forgotten all about it up until Ro was born. Her birth reminded me of my own childhood and brought the song out of me as I held her for the very first time, tiny hand wrapped around my finger, head against my chest, content and quiet.

That’s when I knew she was my girl.

She wakes up in tears again, fever not going down. Her head hurts and she’s complaining of a stiff neck. Poor baby.

I’m not able to give her more medicine so I just put a cold cloth over her head and try to cool her down. She’s whimpering and shivering in my arms as I cuddle her in her little twin bed.

I drift off once she starts to sleep, waking up maybe a few hours later to see her shaking, back turned to me.

“Oh baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll visit the doctor tomorrow morning, alright? I’ve got you. Don’t you worry, Ro.” I coo.

I gently flip her towards me so I can see her face, a chill running down my spine when I realize her eyes are half closed, vomit on her lips as she convulses. She’s not shivering, she’s seizing.

“Oh God.” I gasp. “Okay…okay, it’s okay. Jarvis, is this what I think it is?”

“It appears that the young miss is having a seizure. I recommend you get her medical attention as soon as possible.” He replies.

My stomach lurches. “Do I move her?”

“Lay her on her side and wait for the seizure to end.” Jarvis instructs me.

Watching her continue to convulse is hell. She’s so tiny and pale and vulnerable. She shouldn’t be going through this. What is wrong with my kid?

Once the seizure ends, I hurriedly carry her to the car and drive right to the hospital where they take her in right away and start to do tests.

Ro comes to, blinking confusedly at her surroundings. “Daddy?”

“I’m right here, baby.” I reassure her. “You’re safe.”

“Where are we?” She asks.

“The hospital. But you’re okay. The doctors are gonna figure out how to help you, sweetheart.” I tell her.

Ro frowns. “I thought the medicine was gonna make it better. You promised…”

My heart sinks. “I know, bambina. I know…I’m so sorry. I thought it would. I’m sure the doctors will find out what’s wrong and give you brand new medicine. Then you’ll be good as new.”

She nods sadly. “Okay, Daddy…”

It both warms and breaks my heart that she trusts me so wholeheartedly. I will let her down. I already have. I hate to break that trust when she’s so purely good and innocent and young.

But I ruin relationships. I self-destruct and hurt the people around me. It’s inevitable. I don’t know why I thought it would be different with Ro. Why I thought keeping her was a good idea.

I love her more than anything in the world, but I’d give anything for her to be safe, even if that means I never see her again.

But in my heart, I know I’ll never leave her. Part of it is selfishness. I don’t ever want to live without her because of how much I love her. She’s my kid. My little girl.

But that love may destroy her.

The doctors tell me they have to do a spinal tap after they do some blood work, not satisfied with the results and needing more diagnostic tests.

They mention a brain MRI. God, how serious is this?

I hold Ro while they stick the large needle in her back, causing her to shriek and cry. “D-Daddy! Daddy, it hurts!”

Clinging to her and fighting back tears, I manage to speak without breaking apart, though my voice wavers. “I know. I know. I know it does, bambina. God, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. It’s all gonna be better soon. I got you. I’m not going anywhere. I love you tons, honey. I love you so much.”

Things eventually calm down once the spinal tap is finished, but they go ahead with the MRI, taking her into a room with the large machine.

The thing looks like it swallows her once she’s inside, the technicians telling her to stay still multiple times because she won’t stop squirming in fear at the sound of the machine whirring.

I speak into the mic when their instructions don’t seem to work, hoping my voice will calm her. “Baby, you have to stay still. I know it’s scary but I promise it’s okay. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Daddy’s still here. It’s almost done. Just keep still and it’ll be over before you know it and I’ll give you a big hug.”

She does as I say, finally allowing the technicians to get a clear reading. Once she’s out of the machine, I go to give her a hug but am stopped by a doctor.

“Sir, I’m sorry but you need to keep your distance. We’ll give you gloves and a mask to wear but you have to be careful. We suspect it’s fungal meningitis and it is highly contagious and dangerous.” He explains.

Ro looks at me fearfully, making a face like she’s about to cry. “I don’t care. I don’t. I need to hug my kid. I need to hold my baby.”

“Sir-“

“No. No, I have to. I can’t let her do this alone.” I interrupt, hoisting my daughter up in my arms and carrying her back to the hospital room, laying her on the bed.

I do wear the mask and gloves, which seems to spook her a bit. “Daddy, you look like a scary doctor…”

“Why a scary one? I’m Dr. Stark. I’m a good doctor.” I reply.

“The mask covers your beard.” She explains. “It doesn’t look okay.”

“So you’re saying I should never shave it off?” I ask.

Ro shakes her head. “Nuh uh. That’s weird.”

I smile. “Okay then, baby. I’ll keep the beard. But u do have to keep the mask and gloves on too.”

“Why?” She questions. Such a curious kid. It’s a blessing and a curse.

“Because Daddy could get sick. We don’t want that.” I say. “We’ve gotta focus on getting you better.”

She nods. “Okay…”

“Love you tons.” I tell her.

“Love you tons.” She replies wearily.

Ro falls asleep for a bit while we wait for results, waking up a bit scared. “Daddy, where are we?”

“The hospital, baby.”

“W-Why?” She cries.

“You’re sick. But you’re gonna get better. I promise.” I reply.

“Why do you look scary? I-I don’t like it…I don’t like it…” Ro whines.

Why has she forgotten about the mask? Why can’t she remember where she is and why she’s here? It scares the hell out of me.

The doctor soon comes back and confirms that it’s fungal meningitis, explaining that they will give her an antifungal medication through an IV and that she should recover.

Thank God.

I’m still not at ease, but it’s a little weight off of my shoulders. I’m never at ease. Not after having a kid. I wasn’t expecting that when I first became her dad. The constant worry.

But my brain seems to hate me and decides to come up with ways that she could die or get seriously hurt. Wild scenarios that leave her in the worst of situations.

That feeling was particularly strong when she was an infant. I worried she’d get SIDS. That she’d smother herself or suddenly stop breathing.

Once she was crawling, I worried about her sticking her tiny fingers into electrical sockets or choking on some small pieces of something I forgot to put away.

And when she started to walk, I was scared that she’d bang her head on sharp corners or fall down. That she’d get tall enough to open cabinets full of hazardous materials.

Other than a few bruises and the occasional fall, I’ve done pretty alright so far. So this whole fungal infection thing has me feeling anxious and guilty.

How did she get something like this? Is it something I did? Something I could have prevented?

The doctors say it’s rare, so I’m left wondering how my six year old kid managed to get it.

After a few days on the medication and staying in the hospital, Ro is showing serious improvement and is allowed to go home, the infection running its course.

I don’t end up getting it even with my close proximity to Ro, refusing to leave her side. I’m pretty lucky. I wish it happened to me and not her though.

Once she’s all better and fully rested, I give her her now clean stuffed bear and allow her to eat ice cream for breakfast while we have a Barbie movie marathon. I didn’t want to give her these things while she was sick for fear of making her feel worse. Plus, I haven’t had time to fix the bear.

And by fix, I mean clean the vomit out of its fur.

Those Barbie movies are cheesy and annoying, but she absolutely loves them. I can’t really complain when I see the look of excitement and wonder in her eyes as she watches the screen.

Hugging the bear to her chest, Ro falls asleep on the couch as the credits roll on the fourth movie of the day.

I drape a blanket over her and kiss her head. “Goodnight, sweet pea.”

Despite all of my faults and fears of destroying her, I know I could never leave her side.

Plus, we’re gonna be okay. Me and Ro against the world. Nothing will stop me from being her dad. From raising her and watching her grow into the woman she’ll become one day.

I feel it in my bones.

Just don’t grow up too fast, baby girl.

END

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you’d like more like this!

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