#fickfic

[omg-just-peachy]

I have a soft spot for parents who run themselves ragged taking care of a sick kid and then need to be aggressively cared for themselves. What about a scenario that starts when out-of-town Tony comes home to find the kid on the mend but a stressed-out, super sick co-parent Steve who Tony needs to coax out of damage-control mode in order to cuddle. Or vice versa, if you prefer sick!Tony ;)

Ahh yes, yes this is so soft and good ❤️ Tony comes home and finds Steve is Struggling.--

Tony opens the door, exhausted, eager to be home and reunite with Peter and Steve, but stops when he opens the door, nearly dropping his keys in the process. He’s pretty sure hurricanes have caused less damage than what’s been done to the Rogers-Stark household in the time he’s been away. Steve mentioned that Peter was sick, but made it sound like everything was under control, and this was… the opposite of under control. Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink when the dishwasher was right there, and there were socks and toys and stuffed animals covering nearly every available surface. Steve had clearly pulled out all the stops trying to comfort Peter between Tony being away and the latest bug. 

When Peter got sick, they were learning, it happened in the blink of an eye, but he recovered just as fast. Preschool germs were rampant, but all the kids seemed to bounce back quickly, nearly immune to each other and every gross, drool-covered surface in the classroom. A sick kid could be almost more of a handful than a healthy one, though, and Tony feels guilt twinge in his chest for not being there. He picks up discarded blankets, toys, and debris as he makes his way to the living room, where he finds Steve laying face down on the couch while Peter played with a few of his latest favorite toys on his back. 

“Anyone wanna explain why it looks like Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and Toys R Us imploded in my house?” Tony says in greeting, smiling widely when Peter launches himself off of Steve and into Tony’s arms. 

“Daddy’s back!” He yells, and Steve does his best to lift his head from the pillow, smiling weakly over at Tony and Peter, who is hanging from Tony’s neck like a baby koala.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Steve rasps, and it just like that, the mess, the way Peter was clearly the one running the show, it all comes together. 

“Uh oh, someone couldn’t hang with the five and under crowd,” Tony says, making his way over to Steve. He deposits Peter on the floor and strokes a hand through Steve’s hair. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick too? I would’ve come home earlier; you know I’ll take any excuse to give board members the slip.” 

Steve rubs his face against the throw pillow he appeared to be burrowing into and groans with a shrug. 

“We were doing okay until yesterday morning. Peter started feeling better, but then I started to feel worse and I couldn’t keep up with him. I’m sorry about the mess, I just…” Steve turns to the side to cough, clearing his throat miserably. “It was the field trip,” Steve croaks.

While Tony was away, Peter’s class went on a field trip to the aquarium, which Peter had been off the charts excited about. His new thing was Finding Dory, which they’d all watched no less than three hundred times, and he could not wait to find all the fish when they went; the fact that Steve would be chaperoning the trip only added to Peter’s excitement. Tony had to admit, the pictures he got from Steve, candids of Peter with his face pressed against the glass tanks, or a posed photo of him holding up a stuffed clown fish were almost enough to make him turn his plane around to join them. However cute the day had been, though, it’d clearly massacred Steve’s immune system. Tony doubted his husband had been this sick since he was about seventeen years-old. 

“Poor guy. Have you taken anything? I can handle bath time and clean everything up, okay? I’ll get Nemo here in the tub and grab the medicine.” 

“Can Marlin come?” Peter asks, wielding the fish and squealing as Tony picked him and tickled him. 

“Marlin can’t really swim, kiddo,” Tony tells him. “He’s gonna have to wait on land. Maybe we can leave Marlin with Daddy so he can keep an eye on him while you and I are upstairs?”

Peter contemplates this before holding his arms out to Steve, and Tony walks them over, crouching down. 

“Daddy,” Peter whispers. “Marlin’s gonna stay with you. He’s a dad, just like you!” Peter lays the little stuffed fish beside Steve, who smiles up at them, eyes tired and red.

“Thanks, Pete,” he murmurs. 

-- 

When Tony comes back, Steve is asleep, snoring quietly on the couch from under the blanket Tony draped over him. He looks exhausted, like anyone would after a week alone with a recovering toddler, and Tony touches a finger to the dark circles under his husband’s closed eyes, letting him sleep. Peter’s in pajamas, the room around them is organized, and, to no one’s surprise, their son requests that they put Finding Dory on. Steve might have slept right through the night if Tony hadn’t laid a gentle hand to his forehead, checking to make sure he didn’t have a fever.

“I’m up!” Steve declares, sitting up and looking around, wide-eyed. “What happened?”

“It’s just me, you can go back to sleep.” Tony runs a hand through Steve’s hair, pushing it back and off his forehead. “We’re just watching a movie. You have one guess which one it is,” Tony says quietly. 

He relocates to Steve’s side, lifting the blanket up and settling himself in against him. Steve’s warm from sleep, though luckily he doesn’t seem to have a fever, and, god, Tony had missed this while he was away. He knows he’s running the risk of getting sick himself, but has no plans to leave this spot. Steve leans into him, pressing his face into the crook of Tony’s neck and smiling. 

“Mm, missed you,” he says. “Turns out, doing this parenting thing alone is hard. Hazardous to one’s health, even.” Steve still sounds tired and congested, but the medicine Tony gave him does seem to have helped, and he kisses Steve’s temple in agreement. 

“The good news is, we don’t have to.”

Peter chooses then to look away from his fishy friends and over at his parents, snuggled up together on the sofa. He’s still too young to be embarrassed by parental affection, loves it, in fact. He’s a tactile kid who is just like Tony in a lot of ways, but especially in how he shows affection. He’s always the instigator for “sleepovers in the big bed” and group hugs before he goes to daycare in the morning, dragging them along, one hand in Steve’s and one in Tony’s, to school. Peter pouts over at them for leaving him out before leaping to his feet. 

“Wait for me, wait for me!” He sprints the short distance across the room and nestles himself in between Steve and Tony, burrowing into the blankets. 

“Comfy?” Tony asks after a few minutes, overwhelmed by how thankful he is to be home with his family, tucked up under blankets, Steve recuperating and Peter happily making his stuffed Marlin swim along with the movie. 

He smiles when Steve and Peter answer in unison, a resounding yes.