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diazevan · 5 years

Text

x. unconscious

Everything medical addressed in this chapter I know from first-hand experience.

Tony loved movie night. It was a Friday evening tradition with his kids. The same thing happened every week, like clockwork. One of them would choose the movie, which would take a good few hours. Peter would tell Morgan that he’d stay awake and watch the whole thing, but he would then proceed to fall asleep in the first ten minutes.

It was the end of the week, Peter needed to hibernate after working his ass off at school for five days straight and then swinging around the city, protecting its citizens. So, Tony couldn't blame him for passing out.

Morgan usually ran around the room, commentating the events of the movie and playing whatever games she laid her hands on, by the end, her energy would be spent, and she’d fall asleep in Peter’s arms.

Pepper would return from work when both kids were passed out, and Tony had gotten them into bed. “I’m gonna brush my teeth!” Morgan announced as she dropped the Lego she was playing with and charged upstairs. Tony stretched his arms over his head as he yawned, “Okay, baby.” Morgan was unbelievably spritely for a Friday night. Normally, she’d be fast asleep, scrawled across Peter’s lap. Tony knew she’d be running on adrenaline, because she won an award in class, for being the most helpful student of the week, she was rightfully proud of herself. Peter was curled against the corner of the couch, out cold. Tony didn’t want to wake him up, but from the way Peter was positioned, he didn’t seem comfortable. Tony didn’t want him to have an uncomfortable sleep, not when he had a perfectly good bed upstairs. He also refused to carry him. The kid was all arms and legs which made it impossible to get him up the stairs. “Hey, kid…” Tony extended his foot, gently kicking Peter’s ankle, “It’s bedtime.” Peter didn’t stir. Tony jumped onto his feet, and clapped his hands together, “I’m not carrying you again…” He pressed his hand against his back for dramatic purposes, “I’ll throw my back out one of these days.” He reclined his head back and groaned defeatedly. He knew this would end with him scooping Peter into his arms and taking him to bed. He couldn’t help but melt around Peter, especially after five years without him; he was at the kid’s beck and call, twenty-four hours a day. “Uh, okay Pete. You win.” He bent down, placing a hand on the kid’s arm, so he could manoeuvre him, “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

Tony’s fingers brushed against Peter’s hand, and that was when he started to panic. Peter was not a heavy sleeper, he was on high alert all the time, but sometimes, after a hard week, he crashed. That’s what Tony thought this was, but it was apparent that it wasn’t. Peter’s skin was ice cold to the touch, but contrastively, it was clammy. Abnormally clammy for someone who’d simply been sleeping for the past hour and a half, “Pete?” Tony pressed his hand against Peter’s cheek, the kid’s head lifelessly dropped towards his shoulder, “Peter!” Tony threaded his fingers back through Peter’s sweat-ridden curls, “Hey kid, can you hear me?” Tony turned, so he didn’t shout in Peter’s direction, “Friday, scan him.” He ordered, the AI didn’t respond, “Friday?” Shit, Friday was in the middle of an update. Tony scheduled them to happen at low-risk periods of time, which meant he never let her do one when Peter was on patrol. Today was meant to be a low-risk time when Morgan and Peter were safe in his sights. Screw updates; Tony had to find a way around them. “Fuck me.” Tony wiped his thumb across Peter’s cheek, “You’re gonna be alright, kid.” Peter hadn’t been acting out too out of the ordinary. He’d been slow and a little clumsily, he’d tripped over his feet a fair few times while playing with Morgan, but it was the end of the week, he was always a little spaced. He hadn’t been injured on patrol, Tony got immediate alerts whenever that happened, even a paper cut. Tony tried to rack his brain and find a warning sign that he hadn’t noticed before; Peter had been late home from school because band practise stretched from early morning to five in the afternoon. They were preparing for a performance. Reality hit Tony, and he pressed a quick kiss against Peter’s forehead before charging to the medicine cabinet. Peter had zero self-preservation skills. Michelle and Ned weren’t in the band, so it was likely that Peter got caught up in practice, and had forgotten to eat lunch. Peter had to consume more than Steve and Bucky collectively did, so it was dangerous if he skipped a meal. All his symptoms added up to one daunting conclusion. Hypoglycemia. Low blood sugar. Thankfully, Tony knew exactly how to deal with that but first, he had to make sure he was right. “Daddy…” Morgan hiccuped, a slight quiver in her voice. Fuck, Tony had been so busy ransacking the cupboard for a Blood Test Meter, that he’d completely forgotten that Morgan would head back downstairs after she finished cleaning her teeth, “What’s wrong with Petey?” “I don’t know, darling…” He spoke gently, as he found the Meter, and rushed back to Peter, “But he’s gonna be okay.” Morgan cautiously moved closer to Peter, “Is he poorly?” “Yeah…” Tony knelt, and unzipped the small bag the meter was in, “He’s poorly.” He held Peter’s hand in his palm, and washed it with an alcohol wipe, ready for a finger-prick blood test. “Wait, Daddy!” Morgan shouted, her assertiveness stopped him in his tracks. She marched over, holding up her arm in a defensive manner, “Petey doesn’t like needles.” Tony’s heart fluttered at her innocence, “I know, honey.” He held the device up, “It’s just a small prick. He won’t feel it.” Morgan glared at the inanimate object like she was ready to fight it, if it dared hurt her brother, “I’m gonna hold his hand.” “Okay, baby…” He watched as she locked her hand around Peter’s spare one, “You can hold his hand.” “Don’t be scared, Petey.” She whispered softly into his ear, Tony blinked tears away, as he pricked Peter’s finger and waited for the result on the meter. “Shit…” He leapt into action, charging back over to the medicine cabinet. Peter’s blood sugar levels weren’t just low, they were life-threateningly low if Tony didn’t do something about it now, “Shit...fuck, come on.” “Daddy...?” Morgan sniffled, a clear wobble in her voice. Morgan was too young for this, and he hated that she had to witness it. She blew him away with her resilience and bravery every time. She loved Peter fiercely, and even if she was asked, she’d never leave his side. At times like these, she had the intelligence and bedside manner that could marvel full-grown adults, but she was still a child, and she was terrified. “Not right now, Morguna…” Tony called back, trying his best not to accidentally snap. He didn’t want to scare her or ridicule her for asking questions. “Petey…” Morgan cooed desperately, “Petey, you’re scaring me! Petey!” She shouted, though her voice wobbled as a sob caught in her throat, “Daddy, he won’t wake up!” “I know...I know…” Tony pushed boxes out onto the kitchen floor, “Come on…” He nervously stomped his foot against the floor, “Morgan, I need you to keep talking to him, can you do that?” “Okay…” She cried, “Petey…” She spoke gently, the same tone she used whenever she read or told a story, “Petey, you can choose the next week’s movie. I know it’s my turn but I want you to do it.” Her voice cracked, “You gotta wake up and tell me what we’re gonna watch. I don’t like scary movies though…” Tony’s eyes landed on what he was looking for. A glucagon injection. He snatched it, and ran back over, “Don’t worry, honey. Peter would never choose a scary movie.” Tony hadn’t watched a horror movie with Peter since before Thanos. The kid had claimed to love the genre, but he clearly didn’t, as Tony ended up having to sleep on his bedroom floor that night. “Is he gonna wake up now?”

“Soon.” Tony placed the glucagon down on the coffee table, “Morguna, you're gonna have to let go of his hand, just for a second. I need to put him on the floor, is that okay?” “And then I can hold his hand again?” “Yes, yes, of course, you can.” Tony saw the conflict in her eyes as she let go of Peter’s hand, “Thank you, honey.” Tony bent down, folding one arm behind Peter’s back and the other under his legs, he hoisted him up into his arms, and then gently laid him on the floor, in the recovery position. Morgan wasted no time in charging over and grabbing Peter’s hand, “What’s that?” She asked as Tony prepared the Glucagon. “It’s gonna help him.” Tony pushed Peter’s pyjama shorts out of the way, he stabbed it into his thigh. Morgan whimpered as she tightened her grip on Peter’s hand. Tony knew the result wouldn’t be immediate, so he spent the time gently brushing his fingers through Peter’s curls while muttering soft reassurance to his kids. Morgan didn’t speak. She held her brother’s hand close to her chest, as she hovered, waiting for him to wake up. Tony let out a breath of relief when Peter smacked his lips together, and his face scrunched up as he extended his limbs, “Kid?” Morgan lay down onto the ground, until she was almost nose-to-nose with Peter, “Petey?” “Morgan?” Peter slurred as he blinked his eyes open, “Hey…” Morgan locked herself around him and buried her face against his chest, “What’s…” Peter draped an arm over her as he looked up at Tony, “What’s going on?” Tony squeezed his shoulder, “Low blood sugar, kid.” “Oh…” Peter said, still somewhat spaced, “Sorry.” “Don’t worry…” Tony told him, he moved his hand back and scratched the back of his head, “But I think we’re gonna have to review your...glucose intake.” “Sounds...Riveting.” Peter joked as he turned his attention to his sister, “Hey, M.” Morgan sat up, folding her legs as she looked at him, with misty-eyes, “Daddy stabbed you with a needle.” Peter narrowed his eyes, “Betrayal.” “Betrayal, huh?” Tony scoffed. “Thank you.” Peter held up his hand, and Tony carefully lifted him up, “I’m not a baby.” He complained. “Totally not, Spider-Baby.” Tony mocked as he placed Peter back onto the couch, he bopped his nose, "Next time you feel off, tell me. I’d rather deal with it before you pass out on me and…” Morgan jumped onto the couch, leaning her head on Peter’s knees. “I’m sorry,” Peter said as he twiddled his fingers through Morgan’s hair. “You’re okay now…” Tony sighed, he held up the Blood Test Meter, “But I am gonna have to test you again in a minute to see where you are now.” “Lucky me.” “Don’t worry, Petey.” Morgan sang, “I’ll hold your hand.” “Thanks, munchkin."

#liberty writes #whumptober2019 #tony stark #peter parker #morgan stark #no.10 #irondad #iron dad #irondad fanfiction #iron dad fanfiction #unconscious

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