Chapter 12
"Dada?" Peter asked as Tony tucked him into bed. “‘S Papa gonna come back t’read m’story?"
"I’ve explained this to you, Pete," Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his weary face. "Papa isn’t coming back. Not tonight, anyway. He needs to stay in the hospital a few more days so the doctors can make him better."
Peter, bless his little heart, frowned in confusion. “But he’s Captain ‘Merica.”
"I know, buddy, but…"
Tony couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t be the one to tell his son his Papa wasn’t invincible, even though Steve was currently laid up with a punctured lung, two broken legs and a hole in his stomach. By all accounts, he should have died.
"Papa’s just not feeling too good right now," he decided on, willing that to be enough. "But he’ll be better soon."
"Got a tummy ache?" Peter asked, yawning.
"Yeah, baby," Tony nodded, sighing. "Why don’t you draw him a picture tomorrow, and when he’s feeling a little better we can take it to him, huh?"
“‘Kay,” Peter nodded, little eyelids drooping. “Nuh-night Dada.”