Chapter 2
“What’s up, Peter?”
Peter’s name on Tony’s lips was one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard, and he couldn’t help but smile even wider. He shifted his weight to one hand, slumping even farther against the strong arms helping him stay upright as he waved his now-free hand dismissively.
“Not much. Followed by the Avengers. Swinging. Got stabbed.” Peter counted off the events of the night on his fingers and looked up at the man practically holding him up at this point. Tony just scoffed and shook his head.
“You wanna save the one-liners for when you’re not bleeding out on a rooftop in Queens?” Peter’s brow furrowed and he looked up at Tony.
“Where’s the fun in that?” He asked, eliciting a sharp laugh from the man. “Besides, I’m not bleeding out anymore.”
“Well, you’re not fixed either. C’mon, we gotta get you to the medbay.” A flash of panic went through Peter and he tried to push Tony’s hands away and get up, feeling his heart rate increase.
“I think the fuck not!” He yelled, ignoring Tony’s quiet pleas with him to stop moving, stop aggravating his stab wound.
“Okay, okay. No medbay. Peter. No medbay.” Peter stopped struggling at the assurance, looking back up at Tony. He was met with an open, honest expression and almost felt bad for trying to shove Tony away.
“I’m not going anywhere near the Avengers.” His voice was steely, leaving no room for questioning. He didn’t really think it was an unfair demand, given that they’d been hunting him down for weeks, trying to unmask him and eventually taking a shot at him.
“I’m an Avenger,” Tony retorted, a smirk making its way onto that beautiful face. God, Parker, shut the fuck up.
“But you’re Tony,” Peter reasoned before flushing brightly and looking away. What did I literally say about shutting the fuck up oh my god this is why we can’t have nice things-
“I’m flattered, Peter.” A shy glance to the billionaire’s face told Peter he really did mean it. “But I’m also dead serious about getting you fixed up properly. I’m not letting you swing home like this, you could tear it open and then we’re right back to square one.” There were a few moments of silence, each man trying to think of the best way to move forward. Peter bit his lip, looking down at the ground.
“I have a first-aid kit at home,” Peter mumbled softly, and Tony just stared at him incredulously. Peter could understand why - he’d spent weeks avoiding the Avengers and now in the span of five minutes he’d given Tony his name and invited him to his apartment.
“You mean to tell me every time you get hurt, you bandage yourself up?” Tony asked, sounding almost...sad? Maybe he wasn’t staring at Peter that way for the reasons he’d thought.
“Yeah? I don’t exactly have a multi-million dollar tower with a functioning medbay,” Peter said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Tony. “I have a shitty apartment with a broken radiator and a first-aid kit that runs out faster than I can afford to replenish it.” Tony swore rather creatively under his breath, and Peter found himself smiling again. Was it possible that Tony actually cared?
“Not anymore, you don’t.” Before Peter could question what Tony meant, he was being bundled into those strong arms and leaning against the chest of the Iron Man armor. “Point me in the direction of your place.” As the armor carried them into the air, Peter gave Tony directions until they landed on the fire escape of a run-down apartment building in Queens. He hurriedly threw his mask back on before opening the window and crawling in. Tony stepped out of the armor and through the window, leaving the suit on sentry mode.
“Jeez, you weren’t kidding about the radiator,” Tony remarked as he straightened up. The apartment was just as chilly as the December air outside. “That suit can’t be very good at keeping you warm, either.” Peter scoffed as he took the mask off again, rolling his eyes.
“Do you make a habit of insulting the people who call you for help, or is that special treatment reserved for me?” He quipped. He tried to take a step towards the bathroom, but his knees buckled and Tony rushed to support his weight.
“All for you, Pete,” Tony said with a wink, and Peter very pointedly ignored the blush that it brought to his cheeks. They slowly made their way to the bathroom, where the young man pointed out where the first aid kit sat under the sink.
“If you could just bend down and grab it, I’ll stitch myself up,” Peter said with a soft groan as he leaned against the wall. His eyes closed for just a second, but when they opened he found he’d earned another incredulous stare from Tony. “What?”
“You are not stitching yourself up. I got this, I’m going to help. Just-you can trust me. Okay, Peter?” The vigilante just looked at Tony for a moment before nodding.
“I know that,” he murmured, surprising even himself at the admission. Tony blinked in shock before smiling - all soft and sweet in a way Peter hadn’t seen before. Usually that expression was more snark and arrogance, and he felt privileged to see what seemed to be the real Tony Stark.
“Good.” Tony swiped the first aid kit from under the sink and guided Peter to the couch in the small living space that was barely separated from the kitchen. “Just-take off that costume so I can get a good look at this, yeah?” Peter blushed but stripped off the hoodie of his makeshift suit, revealing pale skin and smooth muscles. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve sworn he saw something flicker in Tony’s gaze. Something like hunger.
“I’m gonna lay down before I pass out,” Peter grumbled as he settled on the couch, laying back so Tony could see the wound. He hissed softly as fingers gently poked and prodded, each of his sounds of pain met with a hushed apology from the surprisingly sweet billionaire.
“I’m gonna stitch this up, you got any painkillers?” Tony asked, rummaging through the first aid kit. Peter just laughed, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I picked up the meds that work with enhanced metabolisms on my way home from class. I get them over at Superheroes-R-Us. Just go ahead and stitch it - that’s what I always do.” Tony looked a little ill at the suggestion but got to work anyway. With each stitch, Peter grimaced and Tony ran a hand through his curls - another act that surprised and confused him but he wasn’t complaining. He loved when people played with his hair, and it helped distract him from the pain in his side. After a few moments of silence, he decided to finally ask about what Tony had said back on the rooftop.
“Hey, what did you mean? When you said ‘not anymore’?” He asked, and Tony briefly glanced at him before going back to the stitches.
“I’m gonna take care of it. The broken radiator, the bare first-aid kit. The shitty pajamas you call a suit.” Before Peter could protest, he held up a hand. “I know you don’t want to be an Avenger. I get that. Just-it’ll ease my conscience if I know you aren’t struggling so much when all you’re trying to do is look out for the little guy, okay?”
A beat of silence. Tony looked up to find Peter just staring at him, with something like adoration in his eyes. A hand wrapped in fingerless gloves found its way to the one holding gauze to Peter’s side.
“Thank you, Tony,” Peter whispered, still looking at him like he’d promised to rearrange the stars outside his window. Tony coughed, glancing away.
“It’s just a suit and some medical supplies. It’s not a big deal,” he insisted, trying to pass it off as he finished stitching Peter’s wound and sat back.
“It is. It’s a big deal to me,” Peter said, sitting up and tentatively placing a hand on Tony’s knee. “No one-no one knows about me. About this.” He gestured to the mask now lying discarded on the table with his hoodie. “No one knows enough to check in on me. To make sure I’m okay. So just-” Peter swallowed when his voice threatened to break. “Don’t say you caring about how I’m doing isn’t a big deal, because to me...it’s the biggest deal.”
Tony looked over at the injured man on the couch, and Peter felt something like fear worm its way into his chest. Tony was about to reject the notion that he cared and leave, he was sure of it. This is why you need to shut the fuck up-
“I care about you way more than a first aid kit or a radiator could ever express,” Tony blurted out. “I don’t-I don’t know where it came from. But every night, I wait and wait for your phone call and all I want is to hear your voice and know you’re okay. If something happened to you..” he trailed off, just looking at Peter like he was really taking him in.
“Tony?” Peter asked softly when it had been a few moments and nothing else had come from the man sitting next to him. He rubbed his knee and shifted a little closer, trying to convey without words he wanted to hear everything Tony wanted to say.
What he didn’t expect was the descent of gentle, chapped lips. A hand working its way into his hair and another resting on his cheek. The press of another warm chest against his own. Peter made a soft sound and leaned into the kiss, one hand reaching up to clutch Tony’s shirt. He never wanted this to end, but the need for air grew imperative and he was forced to pull away. Their foreheads pressed together, noses nudging each other as the two men caught their breath with matching smiles on their faces. Tony is the first one to speak.
“Well, I can say with confidence that this was not what I expected to get out of that phone call.” At Peter’s fearful expression, he ran a soothing hand down his side. “I’m not complaining,” he murmurs. Peter relaxes into him, sighing in relief. For once, his inability to shut up had done him a favor rather than hurt him.
“Yeah, me neither.” Peter huffed out a laugh and winced when it tugged at his stitches in a painful way. He tried to hide it, but Tony was too observant for that.
“You need rest. Let me take you to bed, okay?” Tony suggested, and Peter nodded.
“Just-help me up?” He asked, embarrassed at needing the help but also unwilling to potentially tear open the stitches Tony had just done.
“Of course,” Tony said with that signature smirk, and Peter opened his mouth to ask what that look was for when he was whisked off the couch and into Tony’s arms. A rather undignified squeak left his mouth, and he rested his head against Tony’s shoulder with a blush.
“What? I helped you up,” Tony teased as he carried Peter to the bedroom. There was a mound of blankets on the bed, and he moved them aside so he could lay them both down. “What’s with the blanket fort?”
“I told you the radiator is broken, and I can’t thermoregulate. I get really cold at night. Hence, blankets,” Peter explained as he tugged the blankets over them. Seeing the look of shock on Tony’s face, he hesitated. “Did you-not want to stay?” He asked with a blush.
“Of course I do,” Tony said immediately. “I just didn’t think I’d be welcome.” Peter didn’t dignify that with a response, just wrapping them both up in the blankets so they would be warm during the night. His movements grew slow as sleep crept up on him and a yawn left his lips.
“‘M sleepy,” he mumbled, feeling Tony chuckle as he was cuddled against that strong chest again.
“Go to sleep, Danger. I got you.” With those words, Peter gave into the exhaustion and drifted off, hand still clutching Tony’s shirt.
When Peter woke in the morning, he was absolutely roasting. Throwing the blankets off, he realized Tony was gone and he quickly walked out to the living area to see if he was there. The billionaire was gone, but what was left in its place made Peter’s heart flutter and brought a smile to his face.
A fixed radiator and a stocked first-aid kit.
---
After that, Tony and Peter found whatever excuses they could to meet up at Peter’s apartment. First, it was a new suit to replace the “slashed-up onesie” that Spider-Man was infamous for. It was clearly well-made, but subtle enough that it didn’t scream Stark Tech to everyone who looked at it.
Then, it was a bottle of painkillers Tony had engineered specifically for Peter. They actually took the pain away and allowed him to rest comfortably after a bad night. For the first time, he got loopy after taking one too many. Tony had teased him about the resulting phone call for a few days until Peter threatened to never take the pills again.
A few more weeks had gone by since that first evening at Peter’s apartment, and things were good. The Avengers still caught up with him regularly, but hearing Tony’s voice or cuddling in his arms after each encounter made Peter feel so much better. His life wasn’t a constant mess anymore, now that he had someone who understood what he was going through and could provide support. Peter had repeatedly insisted Tony shouldn’t worry about him so much, that he didn’t want to be a burden, but was consistently met with the same assurances that Tony adored him, adored their relationship and wouldn’t change it for the world.
Tonight was shaping up to be the same, with a phone call to Tony and maybe a chance for them to meet up, eat some pizza, and relax. Peter had just finished up stopping an ATM robbery, and had paused to catch his breath before swinging home.
Of course, things couldn’t be that easy, though. As he stood on the rooftop, chest heaving, his spider sense flared briefly. Before he could discern why, he felt a prick in the side of his neck. Confused, he reached a hand up and plucked a dart from his skin. He just stared at it, not understanding as his vision started to swim and staying upright became increasingly difficult.
The last thing he saw before he slipped into unconsciousness was a flash of red, white, and blue.