Chapter 11
Anyone who’d ever had the privilege of sitting vigil at the bedside of one Peter Benjamin Parker after any sort of injury knew that he had two ways of waking up in the med bay. The most common way involved adrenaline, panic, and the far too frequently pulled IV as Peter went from zero to ‘Holy Hell! Where am I and what have you done with my pants?” in two seconds flat. His waking would bring on a mix of relief and chaos rolled into a jumble of soft soothings and explanations and before long enough, Peter would be snuggled up in the arms of either Aunt May or Mr. Stark while someone ran to grab Dr. Cho to give him a once over in order to convince whichever grown up in play that ‘Really, I’m okay. I promise!’
This time... this time was definitely his less common method of waking after a conflict, though one would never know it for his recent track record.
In the beginning, Peter couldn’t do it, couldn’t manage to drag himself up out from the drug-induced heaviness keeping him weighted to the bed and saturating every single part of him. A barely there thought that maybe he was in trouble niggled at the back of his mind, but he was sure he’d heard Mr. Stark and... someone talking? It wasn’t that important, he imagined. No one was yelling, and Mr. Stark would keep him safe while...
Peter slept on.
The next time he became sort of aware, he pulled in a breath, deeper than usual he guessed as his body decided to protest it. The sudden, racking cough caused pain in his ribs to flare white hot and his eyes watered as he fought to drag in air. He wondered if he was going to die, and a tiny part of his brain seemed resigned to it, so Peter didn’t worry about it. He wished it didn’t have to hurt so much, but it was what it was. And then the cough passed. He allowed whatever was pulling him back under to do just that and his eyes were closed again before he could note the person fluttering about in concern and grasping his hand.
“Sweetheart? Peter? Are you still with me? Oh, Tony! Of course he’d be gone for tests... oh, he’ll be so pissed that he wasn’t here for this.” She seemed to ramble. “Damn it!” A chair scrapes against tile. “Where’s Lydie when...”
He recognized Ms. Potts, Peter did, and in fact meant to turn his head and reassure her that he was indeed here and didn’t need any help at all, but that damned weight still sat heavy on and within and he was so tired anyways, and without another thought...
Peter slept on.
It was the third time Peter came around that he could hold onto what was going on around him with any sort of true cognizance. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, not that he wanted to, but it was easier to manage the headache he could feel starting to settle in as he tried to focus his other senses on the world around him.
“... derstand why he had to do what he did, Pep, but that doesn’t change things! What if Strange had been wrong? What if there’d been a third or fourth—fuck! However many other outcomes? Peter was powerless on that field! If something had happened to him—” Mr. Stark was trying to whisper, but obvious anger had him failing miserably.
“Tony, stop it. We can’t keep rehashing this.” Ms. Potts was whispering just as forcefully. “You wanted to know why Stephen was stepping back, and now you do. I honestly can’t blame him—you idiot superheroes and the need to take on the weight of the world. Does that change anything for any of us? Not one bit.” Ms. Potts asked then answered her question, then her voice softened. “Is it awful? Yes. Knowing she’ll be gone either way? Horrible! But I, for one, am grateful for that this is the reality that came to be. The idea of not having you here with us, Morgan and I... and Peter? I can’t imagine how he’d have struggled if you’d have been the one to go first—“ She stopped speaking, then started again with more determination. “And then May? You know that May would agree. A little time with her is better than no time at all, and you know what she wants for Peter, love. Please, just...”
No one spoke for a while after she trailed off, and Peter almost dozed off again, not quite connecting her words with anything of importance. Besides, he could worry about it later.
And then she spoke again. “Oh, Tony.”
Something new caught his attention. Was that Mr. Stark crying?
Peter heard her shifting, standing, stepping away from Peter and closer to where Mr. Stark was— but why was Mr. Stark so far away? Confused, Peter opened his eyes to look.
Ms. Potts had moved towards another bed, though her body blocked its occupant from Peter’s view, but then she brought her left hand up to caress the salt and pepper head of hair pressed against the pillow. He lost track of what she was saying as his eyes widened at the sight of the large ring on Ms. Pott’s ring finger.
Crap! Mrs. Stark! And then he blanched—Peter remembered all of it. He let out a slow breath, trying to keep it together, then breathed out a heartbreaking, “May.”
“Peter!” The two Starks gasped out in unison upon hearing his voice, and in a flash, Mrs. Stark was back at his bedside as Mr. Stark pulled himself up to sitting in his own bed.
“Peter, honey?” Mrs. Stark caught on to his distress and grasped his hand. “You’re okay, Peter. Tony and I are right here, okay?”
“What—?” He tried to orient himself, looking frantically to his right, then left. He knew he’d run after the alarms had sounded. He closed his eyes to the memory then worked forward. The cab ride, then Ned’s, the window, and then finally the alley, being sure he was going to die when that kid came back but he... and then...? He couldn’t be more confused if he tried. He opened his eyes again, his head lolling to the left as he tried to catch the eye of the only person that made any sense right now, “Mr. Stark?”
Mr. Stark had pulled himself up to fully sit on the edge of his bed, simultaneously wiping away tears while pulling off a couple of leads as he went, “Hey, Roo.” Mr. Stark finally stood and paused for a moment before making his way slowly to Peter’s side. “Are you completely with us?”
Peter nodded, then flinched. The pain in his head was only just bearable and his exhaustion meant he wasn’t quite up to hiding it. “Yeah.”
Any further investigation paused for the moment when a voice called out from the doorway. “Is everything okay in here?”
“We’re good here, Lydie. Thanks. And sorry if that woke you all up,” Mr. Stark answered back.
“Funny, Mr. Stark. You know that nurses don’t sleep.” Lydie replied dryly as she stepped into the room. Peter could feel her assessing eyes on him. “FRIDAY, please reduce lights to twenty percent brightness and inform Dr. Cho that Mr. Parker is awake, and in the capable hands of the Starks so there’s no rush.”
The lights dimmed immediately, and Peter practically melted in relief. A beat later, FRIDAY spoke up, “Dr. Cho has been informed and will be on the medical floor in approximately fifteen minute, unless something changes.”
“That’ll be fine,” Lydie said. “Thank you.” She honed her focus in on Peter and the silent monitors behind him. “How are you feeling, Peter?”
“Okay?”
“Pain level?” She asked.
“I’s okay.”
She glared. “On a scale of one to ten?”
“A two?”
“Sorry, buddy, I’m calling liar. It’s been five years, Peter, but you’re still pretty crappy at it. Try again.”
“Um... a three?”
She stared at him for a ten count then, “You’ll tell me if it gets worse, or if anything changes, correct?” She wasn’t really asking and everyone in the room knew it.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She smiled at him. “You’re a good kid, Peter, but please don’t ever do something like this again, okay?” She gave his cheek a tender pat. “The Spider-Man stuff is enough.”
Peter gave a tiny nod and looked up at his favourite nurse shyly. “Okay.”
She straightened up. “Alright. That’s enough of that.” Lydie addressed the Starks. “I’m sure you have things to discuss, so I’ll leave you to it but Dr. Cho should be here shortly to check everything out.” She gave Mr. Stark a significant look. “You should be good for the rest of the night then, but if anything changes, you know where the call button is.”
“You bet,” Mr. Stark replied, “Thanks.”
Lydie left the room.
The silence in that moment was awkward. Peter heaved a sigh, or tried to at least, but the cough caught him off guard and it took him a few seconds to get it and the pain under control. Once he did, though, all he could think to say was, “Sorry.”
Mr. Stark chuckled sadly, “Oh, kid, you definitely don’t need to apologize for that. Mrs. Stark, sidestepped so Mr. Stark could stand at Peter’s head. “How are you feeling?”
He pulled his hand from Mrs. Stark’s and covered his eyes. The tug of the IV in his arm caught his attention, though. He grimaced as he pulled his arm away to take a look. “Um, can we get rid of this, please?”
Mrs. Stark moved her hand to his leg, giving it a supportive squeeze. “Sorry, sweetheart. That’s your pain management, hydration, and nutrition until Dr. Cho gives you the all clear. She’s the boss until further notice, and if you’re still in pain...”
It irritated Peter, that he’d be called out on such a small number, but something about her statement rang false. His brain tried to grab ahold of a vague memory. He was sure he’d heard someone else, and then it came, “But Doctor Strange was here, wasn’t he? I could have sworn he was the one to...” He was sure he remembered the man standing beside him, caring for him. He was positive, in fact, but his voice faded into silence as he caught the expression on Mr. Stark’s face. “Uh, was I imagining it?”
Mrs. Stark was the one to answer again, Mr. Stark obviously struggling to control himself. “No, Peter, you weren’t imagining it. Things got a little,” she glanced at her husband, then back to the boy in the bed. “Hectic in here, and we needed someone who could get here quickly to help out with everything that was going on. Now that things have settled, Dr. Cho has taken over your care. That’s all.”
And again, Peter felt the tug of untruth. He wasn’t an idiot, even with his headache gearing up to be a real killer. Besides, Doctor Strange had made it super clear what he thought of Peter on the spaceship... stupid made up names. The second those words had been out of his mouth, he knew he’d shown himself to be the moron the world saw. Someone as important as Doctor Strange didn’t need to waste his time with the likes of him, so yeah, “It’s all good,” he said aloud. “I’m sure he’s got more important things to do now that we’re all back.”
“Nope.” Mr. Stark cut off that train of thought quick. “I see that look, and wherever that brain of yours is taking you, you ignore it, kid. His taking off had nothing to do with you, personally. I promise.”
But the man still looked upset and Peter had to ask, “But you know why he doesn’t like me?” Man, he sounded like a freakin’ baby.
Mr. Stark sighed. “Peter, he likes you just fine. Strange just cleared up some stuff with us about Titan and the battle and—“
“About how I totally screwed it all up, right?”
“Not at all, and stop doing that!” Mr. Stark pointed a stern finger at him. “Considering the fact that you showed up on that battlefield with no powers to speak of and still managed to help out wherever you could—kid, you’re a bloody rock star! In fact, I’m pretty sure there are plans to throw a party in your honour once we get you back on your feet.”
Peter blushed at the compliment. “Shut up.”
“No! Honestly! There was talk even back in Wakanda—while you were recovering. Carol Danvers thinks you’re kind of a bad ass.” Mr. Stark gave a teasing wink. “And that may be a direct quote, kid.”
Peter couldn’t help but laugh, but cut it short when pain he’d been able to ignore before flared on his left side. He grunted out a quiet, “ow,” then coughed again.
“Easy, now,” Mr. Stark soothed as Peter tried to catch his breath.
Peter nodded, knowing that speaking would be a mistake, so he closed his eyes and mouth and drew in an unsteady breath of canned air through his nose. “Wha—? Why is—? ” His hand flew up to pull the only now noticed nasal cannula away from his face, but Mr. Stark stopped him cold.
“Just noticed that, too, huh?” Mr. Stark teased. “Yeah, no touching that either, kid. You’re lung was messed up after you...” Mr. Stark trailed off, obviously trying to bypass anything that could upset any of them. “So let it be. Now, slow and steady breaths.” His fingers teased at the curls in Peter’s hair.
And there it was. Shit. He’d screwed up royally. The physical pain was nothing compared to the epic embarrassment. Reality was setting in and he couldn’t put it off any longer.
“Um, Mr. Stark? What else happened after...?” Peter couldn’t complete the thought. He knew that he had some things to figure out but he’d hoped he’d get a chance to figure out how to breathe but that obviously wasn’t going to happen if—
“Hey, Pete,” Mr. Stark called out, as he looked over at the monitors behind Peter’s head with concern. “You need to slow down your breathing, alright?” Mr. Stark placed his hand on his shoulder and caught Peter’s eye. “We’re gonna fill you in on everything, but you need to be calm or Cho is gonna come in here and do that glare thing that she does and you and I both know that when she glares, she kicks people out and while I may be a bit of a fixture right now,” he waved back at the bed behind him. “Pepper here,” he gave a nod in her general direction, “well, she knows all sorts of other ways to make my life uncomfortable and we don’t want that, okay?”
Confused, Peter only stared at Mr. Stark, knowing that he was only trying to deflect from the seriousness of the situation. In the end, though, it was simply easier to close his eyes once more and make the effort to relax.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Just breathe.”
And Peter did, allowing himself to momentarily get caught in the sensation of Mr. Stark’s hand running through his hair. He wished it could last forever, but—
“Good boy,” Mr. Stark soothed. “Now, before we get all derailed again, May is okay.”
Peter’s eyes flew open at the words. “No! She’s—?” he exclaimed, “I heard the alarms! And then Lydie was—“
Mr. Stark gave Peter’s hair a gentle, grounding tug, “Hey, buddy, listen to me... and keep breathing!” he reminded the boy. “May is currently down to hall in the exact same room you saw her in earlier. She is resting even as we speak.”
“But—“
Mr. Stark gave another tug. “One of her monitors came loose and an alarm went off. That’s it. She’s as fine as she can be and is being taken care of by Dr. Bonwick. I promise.”
Peter couldn’t shake the panic. “But—“
Mr. Stark looked him straight in the eye. “Peter. Listen to me.”
Peter stopped himself.
“You know I wouldn’t lie to you about that. She’s just sleeping.” He moved his hand from Peter’s hair to cup his cheek. “I promise you, she’s still here, and if you’re lucky, you’ll be healed up enough by morning that Cho will let you go visit once May wakes up.”
Peter looked for any trace of a lie on Mr. Stark’s face. Could it really be true? His chin quivered as he asked, “Really?”
Mr. Stark nodded and replied with a sincerity Peter could never doubt. “I promise.”
Peter gave a jerky nod in acknowledgement and closed his eyes, mortified by his reaction. He rasped out a quiet, “okay,” and allowed Mr. Stark to wipe away the few tears that fell down his cheeks.
“It’s alright, buddy. There’s a lot goin’ on here and we’re doing a pretty shit job of keeping you in the loop. I’m so sorry that you had to deal with Aunt May on your own, and we’re going to do better, got it?”
Another nod and then Peter choked out one sentence. “I thought I was going to be alone.” Saying the words out loud seemed to give Peter the permission he needed to break down. Sob after painful, torturously restrained sob filled the room as Peter tried to control his movements. It took no time at all for Mr. Stark to climb up into the bed beside the hysterical boy and then barely a second more for the boy to ease himself into the man’s arms and finally allow himself the comfort he’d been denying himself since they’d come back to New York City. “I wasn’t ready to be alone.”
Mr. Stark didn’t say anything while Peter purged all of the hopelessness he’d been feeling when he’s fled the tower. May was alive and they could... they could... wait. Peter tried to calm himself. “Lydie said her fever was up... um, before.” Peter rasped.
Mr. Stark gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Yeah. This infection is being a bit of an asshole, but you know May. She’ll beat this one soon enough.” Mr. Stark pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Dr. Bonwick may be a dick, but he’s a great doctor and has been taking good care of her.”
Those five years kept creeping back in to haunt him, and his tears flowed, quieter this time. He’d missed out on everything, had no clue what Aunt May was going through... not really. Yes, she was sick... really sick, and his time with her was limited unless... Peter couldn’t think about it, but he trusted Mr. Stark and if Mr. Stark said that May was going to beat this infection, then she was going to.
And Peter would continue hating himself for not being there all along.
“Roo? Are you still with us?”
He paused, then pulled away to wipe his own tears, “Yeah. Sorry.” The ‘sorry for everything—Titan, the battle at the compound, Uncle Ben... existing’ went unsaid.
“We’re gonna have to work on that, sweetheart,” Tony said. “But for now, did you need to rest a bit more or are you up for a chat?”
Peter would have rolled his eyes, but the headache was growing stronger in intensity. Rest sounded wonderful—well, the darkness and quiet did, anyways, but the conversation kept getting put off and he figured he should know what else he was missing. “Might as well get it over with,” Peter grumbled, and carefully extricated himself from Mr. Stark. He rubbed the last of the wetness from his face, careful of all the dreaded tubes and wires he was now aware of and then finally caught a full look of the man wedged into the bed beside him. “Um, Mr. Stark? Why are you in a hospital gown?”
Mr. Stark didn’t seem to know what to say. “Oh! Well, um, you see...” he stammered, seemingly unsure of what to say, “It’s that I, uh...” He looked helplessly over to Mrs. Stark who came to the rescue.
“It’s that Tony promised Helen that he’d follow up on some tests when he got back from Wakanda. It was nothing major, so he figured he’d get it done while waiting for you.”
Peter could hear the woman's heart rate increase as she manufactured the lie on the spot, felt that niggle at the back of his neck, and Peter’s heart broke at Mrs. Stark’s now obvious dishonesty.
“Pete?” Mr. Stark was staring again.
Peter tried to curl in on himself, but the ribs stopped that from happening pretty quick. He adjusted. “Uh, what did we need to talk about?”
Mr. Stark kept staring, first at Peter, then Mrs. Stark, and then back to Peter. He chuckled in disbelief. “Son of a bitch. You know that she’s lying.”
His pale cheeks flushed. “Well, yeah, but that’s cool, I mean, if you don’t want to tell me what’s goin’ on.”
“How did I not know that you have a spidey lie detector thing happening in there?” Mr. Stark waggled his finger over Peter’s forehead.
The flush darkened. “Well, neither of you have lied to me before.” He scowled to himself. “I guess I still need to work on my poker face.”
Mrs. Stark dropped her head onto Peter’s mattress and groaned. “No, Peter, you don’t.” She squeezed Peter’s leg again while keeping her face firmly planted on the bed. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. This one is completely on me. I thought I’d try to keep you from having to worry about yet ANOTHER thing, and it seems that all I’ve done is start us off on the wrong foot... again!”
Peter was confused. “What do you mean, again? Did I do something wrong? What are you—?”
“No, no, no, Peter. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Mrs. Stark looked up at Peter directly. “I think it’s a reflex for me to try and distract when it comes to Tony and his health, especially when it comes to keeping one of his kids from worrying.” She shrugged helplessly.
Mr. Stark stared at his wife, wide-eyed, confusing Peter all the more, so Peter pressed. “Oh? I guess I understand that, but, uh...”
A goofy grin spread across Mr. Stark’s face as he came to some sort of realization. “Hold on a sec, Pete,” he cut Peter off. “Pep?” He laughed, “Is that why Morgan keeps telling me it’s ‘juice pop time’ when she figures out that I’ve hurt myself in the lab?”
Mrs. Stark’s face was burning as red as Peter’s was by now, he was sure. He was trying to follow their banter, but at the mention of that unfamiliar name again, he had to speak. “Hold on. Who’s Mor—“
“If you weren’t so careless, I wouldn’t need to, now would I? You know she worries about you, especially after she found you passed out on the floor in the kitchen that time—”
“One time, Pep! And it’s not like I knew I was going to pass out... from exhaustion, mind you. NOT an injury, thank you very much.”
“Wait.” Peter couldn’t follow. He didn’t know who to focus on as he questioned it all. “You passed out!? I don’t understand? And—“ Something short circuited in Peter’s brain as he replayed one key word. “And did you say ‘kids?’”
Mr. and Mrs. Stark fell silent, then shared a glance. “Yeah,” Mr. Stark cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Kids.”
Peter felt just as uncomfortable. “Oh.” He scanned the room, hoping and praying that a hole would open up in the floor to swallow him up.
And then it happened. Mrs. Stark lost it. “That’s it! You two are going to make me crazy!” Mrs. Stark blurted out. “Oh my goodness! Tony! How are we going to accomplish anything here if you choose to resort to monosyllabic answers? You’re a bloody genius! You have brain cells! Use them!” She threw her hands up in frustration. “We are supposed to be exchanging information like human beings!” She stood up from her seat and took a deep breath before she collected her phone from the table between the two beds and entered her password. “Heaven help us if we don’t get better at this.” She muttered as she tapped and swiped at her screen, looking for something specific. “There!” She found what she was looking for and thrust her phone at Peter. “Peter Parker, meet your little sister, Morgan H. Stark: juice pop fanatic and avid stuffy aficionado.”
Peter blinked up at her, and then the offering, not quite processing what Mrs. Stark wanted him to look at. But then he saw it. “Is that—?“ His brow furrowed as he reached to take the phone from her hand. “Is she—?” Peter couldn’t find the words.
Mr. Stark smiled at his tentative reaction and filled in some of the blanks. “Morgan is four years old. Her birthday is January 13th so she’ll be turning five in just a few months and will be ecstatic that she has someone else to get her a birthday present. She is currently trying to convince us to buy an alpaca, but we’ve been able to keep her at bay seeing as we live in the city, but I wouldn’t be surprised if one of her uncles doesn’t break down and get her one before too much longer.” He sighed and chuckled. “Makes me wish I’d never given Rhodey the address to the lakehouse.”
Gazing at the phone, Peter couldn’t help the flare of jealousy battling with the excitement of something so wonderful. He loved Mr. Stark and respected his wife for the goddess that she was. Of course, he’d want them to have the family Mr. Stark had always thought he couldn’t have. Peter had known then that Mr. Stark would make a fantastic father to some lucky kid. He himself had wished more than once that Mr. Stark would look at him like a— No. Peter forced push past the negativity. “Do I just swipe to see the other...” Peter had a thought, “Or is it others? Oh, gosh. Did you have twins, too? I’ve never understood why so many celebrities have twins? Mr. Stark! Did you have a boy, too? Or is it just girls—not that it would be a problem to have just girls, especially with Pepper Potts—shit! I mean Mrs. Stark as their mom.”
“Peter, why don’t you just call me Pepper, please?” She practically begged, “And what do you mean, sweetheart?” Mrs. Stark said. “I’ve only had Morgan?”
“Well, it’s just that you said ‘kids’ and...”
“Geez, kid, you’re killing me.” Mr. Stark grumped teasingly and pressed closer to him. “When she said ‘kids’ she was including Morgan,” he pointed to the phone and then gently rested his hand on Peter’s wrist, “And you.”
And what could he say to that?
“oh.”
Mr. Stark snorted. “Yeah. Oh.”
The ramble that he’d fallen back on suddenly seemed silly and Peter could barely process what had just been said. Peter knew how he’d felt about his mentor. “But before... ?” He started and stopped, then started again. “You could barely tolerate me in the beginning and we were only...”
Mr. Stark took a deep breath. “Kid... Peter. One thing I have had to learn in my life is that it’s okay to allow good things to happen to me, and I was only just barely starting to understand that back then.” He smiled wryly over at his wife. “I’d had a pretty shitty track record for letting people in that were... not good for me... or even to me, and I couldn’t or wouldn’t trust myself to not keep making those mistakes. I’d almost given up on ever finding anyone—other than Rhodey and Happy, of course—who I could allow to get truly close to me. So much garbage had happened, first with my Mom and Dad and then Obie...” He scowled and exhaled harshly, but then his entire face softened as he breathed in and reminisced. “Thank goodness for Pepper. If she hadn’t been around when everything had gone to hell back then, I don’t think I’d have ever let her in... and even that took a couple of tries to get right.”
Mrs. Stark chuckled. “Yeah, just a couple.”
“Hey, be nice. I’m being emotionally mature here,” he teased, then brought his attention to the boy beside him. “The point I’m getting at is that by the time you came around, I was sort of starting to get it. I’d started therapy—”
“You did therapy?” Peter gasped.
“Yes, and still do, thank you very much. By that point, my father’s best friend had tried to murder me, I’d flown a nuke through a wormhole, and almost died because of something of my own making, and that’s on top of the addictions. It was totally warranted.” He answered. “But there I was, working through all of these things, and then you came in like this huge ball of rainbows and sunshine and absolutely zero agenda except being exactly you and it freaked me out. I couldn’t understand why you were so invested.” Peter was jostled as Mr. Stark shrugged. “And then I got it. If you thought I was worth knowing and caring for, then maybe I was.”
“Aw, Mr. Stark...”
“Nope, the adult is still talking here.” Mr. Stark rested his head against Peter’s. “Pepper’s right. I need to finish this... unless you need to take a break.” He did a quick visual check.
A brief, “I’m good,” had Mr. Stark going again.
“I just need you to know that I’d figured it out. Before. You were going to come over for a lab session after the field trip and I’d planned on talking to you then... letting you know how much I’d grown to care about you, saw you as more than someone I’d felt obligated to watch over. I’d talked to May, and we’d talked to lawyers. She knew that I’d figured things out and we’d had many a conversation about me becoming a second legal guardian for you, in case anything happened to her—but I’d wanted to talk to you about it first, and then—“
The heaviness of it all hung between them.
When the sombre silence grew awkward, Mr. Stark cleared his throat. “I was devastated, kid. We’d lost, and you were gone. Hell, we barely made it back to Earth in one piece. And then Thanos was destroyed, and the stones were gone...” Mr. Stark took a few seconds to breath. “It was hopeless... I’d lost hope, Pete, and all I could feel was anger... again, good things couldn’t happen to me, right? I was right back at the beginning except instead of booze and drugs, I shut myself off from everyone.” Mrs. Stark reached out and grabbed her husband’s hand in support, and he inhaled deep. He continued. “Then one day, Pepper passed out while taking care of me. It scared the ever lovin’ shit out of everyone, and suddenly we were expecting this terrifying little creature that was going to depend on us for everything and I’d already lost one kid so how was I supposed to take care of another one?”
“But it wasn’t your fault, Mr. Stark.” Peter whispered.
Mr. Stark hugged him close. “I know that now, kid... I promise. Remember? Therapy.”
“Right.” Peter deadpanned, thinking that no amount of therapy could convince him that those five years weren’t his fault alone.
“Regardless,” his mentor spoke on, “I had loads of work to do on myself, again. The idea of being a dad to someone...” He hemmed again. “Apparently, it was easier to get over the disappearance of half the universe than it was to acknowledge that some tiny person could love me simply because I am me, and then your Aunt May and my lovely wife here reminded me...” His gaze shifted to Mrs. Stark and then back to Peter. “I’d already had that with you.”
Peter looked questioningly between the two of them, “Me?”
Mrs. Stark smirked at his cluelessness. “Yes, Peter. You.”
Peter didn’t have time to figure what to say to that because Mr. Stark was off and running again. “Of course, that sent me down the rabbit hole again but in the end, I’ve accepted that Pep and I have the coolest kid on the planet next to her big brother... and now that you’re back, I might just be one of the luckiest sons of bitches alive.”
And what could Peter say to that?
Absolutely nothing, though it seemed everyone in the room was okay with the quiet anyway—until Peter had to go and ruin it with one miscalculated move, “AH! Fu—dammit!” Peter vision whited out as he clutched at his healing thigh first, then his ribs next as first the stitches he’d not even noted pulled sharply. The instinct to reach out and grab at the source started a cascade of pain as he tweaked his aching ribs. Any ability to use actual words was gone, replaced with grunts and panting as Peter tried to get on top of it.
Interwoven in the haze that settled over him, Peter felt movement beside him as Mr. Stark offered words of encouragement, “That’s right, sweetheart, breathe through it. It’ll pass, honey. Just breathe.”
So Peter did, struggling to gain control over the burning in his lungs.
“That’s it, kiddo. In and out,” Mr. Stark’s hand held onto his. “You’ve got this.”
Faster than the last time, Peter’s breathing normalized... well, as much as it could for the situation. When he came back to himself, Mr. Stark was back in his seat and giving Peter the space he needed to sort himself. Appreciating the room, Peter collapsed back into the pillows behind him, exhausted. “Ugh, why does it always have to be the ribs?”
Mr. Stark chuckled. “Kid, you’ve got a special kind of luck, is all.”
“Parker luck, you mean?” Peter retorted.
Mr. Stark laughed a little harder. “Yeah. I know all about it, Pete, but who knows? Maybe it’ll all turn around now?”
Shaking his head in disagreement, Peter couldn’t help but laugh sadly himself. “Sorry, Mr. Stark, I’m doomed.”
Mr. Stark threw himself back in his chair, clutching at his chest, “Ack! Kid! You can’t talk that way! You’ll break my heart—Geez! You know I have a heart condition!”
He’d meant it in jest, Peter knew that without a doubt, but the room suddenly took on a different atmosphere as Peter figured out the mystery he hadn’t realized he needed to solve; Mr. Stark in the bed, the leads he’d disconnected when he come over to him from the bed and... no! He was in a damned hospital gown! “Whoa! Hang on a minute! Mr. Stark!?” Peter was starting to freak out again, “Did I actually give you a heart attack!?” He looked toward Mrs. Stark, “Did I almost kill Mr. Stark?” Neither of them answered, just gawped at Peter as he put the pieces together and leapt directly to the correct conclusion. “Oh, my gosh! Mr. Stark!” He tried to pull himself up to sitting, but was stopped short by the fresh pain. It didn’t stop his ramble, though. “We have to—nghh – get you back in your bed!” He tried to move again, “Shit!” and failed. “Like, you should be resting and... and... convalescing and all that heart attacky stuff!” He threw his aching head back in defeat. “You know, this would be way easier for me to deal with if you’d just listen to me and got back in bed.”
A soft knock on the doorframe of their room drew their attention, “Mr. Parker, I’ve have been telling the man the exact same thing since 2015 and he’s still not listening.” Mr. Stark glared at Dr. Cho as she strode into the room, inputting something into a StarkPad as she went. “Not that you’re all that much better, young man. I’d expected to go a little longer between visits, but here we are. Now, how are you feeling, Peter?” She ran a critical eye over him, leaving him squirming under the scrutiny.
“I’m okay,” he mumbled. “More worried about Mr. Stark.” He wasn’t quite sure how to process these last moments. “Did...” Was he even allowed to ask? Peter couldn’t help himself. “Um, Did Mr. Stark actually have a heart attack?”
Pepper slipped away to a corner to observe as Dr. Cho looked over to Mr. Stark, asking for permission without speaking a word.
He nodded ‘yes.’
And so Dr. Cho explained. “What Tony suffered is something we call a cardiac event.”
“A cardiac event? That’s just a heart attack, right?” Peter was confused.
She shook her head and tapped at her tablet’s screen. “Actually, in this case, it is something called stress cardiomyopathy, which mimics a heart attack even down to an increase in cardiac enzymes BUT without the blockage to the arteries.“ She turned her tablet toward Peter to show him what appeared to be a textbook diagram. “It really is quite fascinating to see in person. In fact, the medical community had quite the opportunity to study this phenomenon after the Blip, so to be able to utilize relatively recent data to develop a treatment plan... Truthfully, if I could have chosen a cardiac related emergency to happen to Tony, this was almost ideal.”
Peter held back the scoff. “What do you mean?” Peter asked.
“Well,” Dr. Cho explained, “I mean that if your partner in crime here manages to follow doctor’s orders, takes his medications on time AND consistently,” She gave Mr. Stark the side eye. “And if he takes it easy for the next few weeks, the heart muscle should recover with little to no side effects.”
Mr. Stark was watching Peter carefully as Dr. Cho explained, he knew, so Peter schooled his features and hoped he looked more pulled together than he felt. The smile may have looked more like a grimace, but no one seemed to question it. It was too bad that he was silently screaming on the inside.
Peter didn’t need a medical degree to understand that he was the reason for Mr. Stark’s condition. He nodded in agreement with something somebody said, he wasn’t sure who, as his mind ran through a condensed history of every single time Peter had caused his mentor stress—and now he was back and screwing things up so epically that he’d caused his mentor to have a heart attack. He should have just...
“Peter?” He startled as Dr. Cho dropped her StarkPad onto the table between the two beds and grabbed a penlight from her lab coat pocket. “Are you still with us?”
He blinked rapidly, trying to catch up with what he’d missed in the seconds he’d been alone in his thoughts. “No—I mean yes! I’m here. Sorry, I’m okay! I was just...”
Dr. Cho did a quick pass with the penlight across his left, and then right eye, aggravating his headache and causing him to flinch.
Of course, the world renowned geneticist would catch it.
“Are you having difficulty focusing? Blurred vision? Does your head still hurt?” She began running her fingers over his scalp. “Your last scan was showing a reduction in swelling, but if you’re unable to—“
“I’m fine.” He insisted as he gently pushed her hands away. “I just got lost in my thoughts, is all.”
“Are these thoughts something that I need to be made aware of?” Dr. Cho inquired.
“No. It’s just...” Peter looked over at Mr. Stark, still seated.
He didn’t have to say anything else. “I see,” Dr. Cho acknowledged. “Well, let’s get you squared away so I can take care of him, then, hey? Will that set your mind at ease?”
Mr. Stark must have seen something on Peter’s face, because he sighed and rolled his eyes as he gave in and made his way back to the second med bay bed. “Actually, Helen, why don’t we get my check up out of the way? It'll be quick, yeah? And that way Peter will know that I’m not about to drop dead, and I can finally get myself into some clothing that actually closes in the back.”
Dr. Cho pocketed her penlight, rollled her own eyes, and then gave Peter a playful wink, not that he was in the mood for it. “Tony, if I’d known that all it would take for you to comply with a medical professional was familial guilt, I’d have had Peter in here years ago.”
Mr. Stark glared. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Helen. I’m feeling fine, so let’s just get this done.”
“Patience, Tony. If everything looks good, we’ll get you out of here.” She smiled at Peter then stepped closer to Mr. Stark’s bed. She raised her hand to pull the curtain surrounding Peter’s bed partially closed in order to give Mr. Stark some privacy. Casting a quick glance at the heart rate monitor behind him, she noted the numbers starting to increase from his anxiety. “He’s going to be fine, Peter,” Dr. Cho assured him. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Peter nodded nervously and clasped his hands together to keep from fidgeting. “Yeah, okay,” he whispered as the curtain divided them.
Mr. Stark piped up again “Relax, Pete! She’s only closing the curtain so as to spare you being jealous of my gorgeous dad-bod.”
Peter pretend-retched, getting that he had to play a part. “Gross, Mr. Stark. There are children in the room, you know.”
“Yeah, right, you little shit. I heard that potty mouth on you earlier—you’re lucky we hadn’t told you about the swear jar yet! You’d have had to sell your first born to cover the last day and a half.”
“Swear jar?” Peter couldn’t help it. “But you’re—Really?”
That answer came from the corner of the room. “Yes, really.” Mrs. Stark declared. “It seemed necessary after SOMEONE,” she glared at Mr. Stark, “decided to drop a couple of F-bombs in front of our then three year old daughter and then told her they were “Mommy words.” If looks could kill, Mr. Stark would’ve been dead before Dr. Cho could do a thing. “THAT was a fun conference with the preschool.”
Peter didn’t know what to say after that. He didn’t want to face Mrs. Stark’s wrath so he started fussing the blanket resting over him.
“You know, Pete,” Mr. Stark spoke up over the sound of a blood pressure cuff inflating. “You’re going to love Morgan. She knows all about you and can’t wait to meet you.” Peter could hear his smile through the fabric and his heart warmed. “She has big plans, kid. I think she wants to take you to the zoo first, so you can see the spiders, if you can believe it... they’re her favo—“
“Listen,” Dr. Cho interrupted, frustration evident in her tone. “If you don’t stop talking so I can get accurate readings, no one will be going anywhere—especially not out of this bed. Got it?”
Peter’s heart sank. Right. No matter how light Mr. Stark tried to keep the situation, he couldn’t allow himself to forget. Mr. Stark had suffered an actual heart attack. The man had experienced the pain and fear that accompanied it, too. Yes, Peter had heard the words, knew that the man would recover given time, but he’d caused it, and what if he’d...
No, he couldn’t think that. He’d already lost enough—was losing again.
Why?
Parker Luck, that’s why, and Peter knew it was only a matter of time before it would take down the Stark Empire with it.
Peter thought of trying to disappear again, realizing he’d need to be smarter; plan ahead.
And he needed to wait for May. God help him, he’d stay by her side until he couldn’t anymore, but until then—
Peter didn’t know.
What he did know was that for now he’d keep a smile on his face, a spring in his step, and his jumbled plans to save Mr. Stark and his family from Peter to himself.