Chapter 12
Mr. Stark had been officially released from the care of the med bay staff with strict instructions to take it easy and follow up with Dr. Cho in the following days to make sure that his recovery was on track and that his medications didn’t need to be further adjusted.
To say that Mr. Stark was pleased would be an understatement.
And to say that Mrs. Stark was even more pleased that she didn’t have to listen to him complain about his hospital gown or being trapped in the med bay anymore was also an understatement.
The relief Peter felt in knowing that his mentor was actually going to be alright after all the chaos that Pete himself had caused made all the difference... well, enough of a difference that Dr. Cho could finally come to his bedside and check on his own progress without Peter being completely distracted by the elephant in the room—who was now sat on the other side of the curtain, waiting for word on Peter’s own release plans.
Dr. Cho was efficient in completing what was left of her examination, using her steady hands to poke and prod at every single tender spot on his ribcage and then shifted her focus to tug at the tape on his leg.
Peter couldn’t contain his flinch as she yanked off the last inch. “Ouch.”
She muttered a sympathetic, “Sorry, Peter.”
“S’okay,” he replied, even thought Peter was sure the apology was a big ol’ fib. (Dr. Cho was a sadist. He was 99% sure of it.)
She had leaned in to get a closer look at the wound proper, pressing lightly at the skin surrounding his sutures and giving no hint to what she was thinking, which frustrated him more than he’d expected. He risked a peek at the uncovered wound as she worked. It was still feeling pretty tender, Peter had to admit and was curious to know why. It should have been closer to gone than not... but—crap. Dr. Cho moved her head away, giving him a clear view of the still relatively fresh looking wound. Double crap. Peter didn’t need a medical degree to see that his leg wasn’t healing as quickly as it should be.
She sighed as she stepped back from his bedside, then gave him a pointed look. “Alright, Peter, can I be frank with you?”
Peter looked up nervously from his leg to Dr. Cho and then to the curtain that still divided him from Mr. Stark, knowing that whatever she had to say wasn’t going to be good, then answered, “Uh-huh... um, yeah. Of course?”
She picked up on his discomfort immediately so she threw him a lifeline. “Would you like Tony and Pepper to be a part of the conversation?”
Peter gnawed at his lip as he quickly nodded in the affirmative. “Yes, please?”
Dr. Cho smiled kindly, “Alright then.” She patted his hand in reassurance and then pulled open the curtain to reveal Mr. Stark, sitting on the edge of his bed and looking just as anxious as Peter.
“You two are quite the pair, you know.” She teased lightly.
“If by ‘quite the pair,’ you mean troublemakers, then you are correct, Helen. They absolutely are,” Mrs. Stark teased from her out-of-the-way corner,” causing both Peter and Mr. Stark to chuckle in embarrassment, “But I’m fairly certain that you’re talking about their ability to stress over each other like it’s their job.”
“That’s exactly what I meant, Pepper, and I’m glad to know that someone else can see it, too,” Dr. Cho agreed, “Regardless, it’s late and I’m sure Peter would like to get some real rest, so let’s update everyone on what’s happening here so he can sleep.” She addressed the Starks and then focused her attention on her patient. “Okay. Peter?”
He hesitated before answering, “’kay.”
Her gaze softened, “Hey, there’s nothing to worry about, Peter. You know there’s nothing we can’t fix... however, I am concerned that you’re healing isn’t as far along as it should be. With us not knowing if there will be any lingering effects after the final snap and more specifically what you’ve gone through in the last days with your mutation, I’m thinking we might need to re-run a couple of tests to make sure we didn’t miss anything back in Wakanda.”
Peter’s stomach dropped and his mind raced as he tried to figure out what could be going wrong now?!
And then Mr. Stark cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, sorry to interrupt, but I’m pretty sure nothing was missed in Wakanda.” He slid off his med bay bed and stepped over to the doctor. “If anything, this one is me. We’ve been so busy trying to deal with the chaos of coming back that we neglected to make sure that Peter had been eating.”
Dr. Cho processed what Mr. Stark was telling her, then glared at him. “Tony. He wasn’t at one hundred percent yet, which is why I told you that he had to eat—and in fact made it one of the conditions of his release from the hospital wing in Wakanda.”
Mr. Stark threw his hands up in surrender. “Trust me, Helen, I get it. I dropped the ball.” Mr. Stark cast an apologetic glance Peter’s way then focused again on the doctor. “Life got a little bit crazy for a hot minute, but it won’t happen again. I can promise you that. We’ll get him back on his feet.”
Peter could hear the guilt woven through that promise, and he couldn’t allow it. “But it was my fault, Mr. Stark! Not yours!” He winced at the pain in his ribs from his protest. “You gave me food. You know you did... I just... forgot.” Peter flushed as he confessed. Everything he’d done before to mess things up—the panic attack, and then the next one, and the running...
Everyone’s attention was focused on him and food was the last thing on Peter’s mind.
Mr. Stark’s fingers snapping in his face pulled him from the start of his spiral. “Nope. Not gonna do that, kid. Whatever you’re thinking right now is either bullshit or to be tabled for later. Got it?” He waited for Peter to settle, and then nod in agreement. “Good. Because right now, we’ve got something we need to fix, so...” Mr. Stark turned back to Dr. Cho. “Now what?”
“Well, I’m afraid this makes me the bearer of bad news. I was hoping that I could release you by breakfast to convalesce in your own bed, but that obviously can’t happen now.” She seemed to be contemplating something. “If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me, Peter?”
Peter swallowed hard then answered, “Sure?”
She seemed satisfied with his response so she continued, “If I were to order a Peter-portioned meal for you right now and asked you to eat, would you be able to?”
His stomach churned at the mere thought. “Uh huh. I guess?”
Dr. Cho did not look convinced so Peter had to work harder.
“I mean, not like a steak or something but...”
She sighed. “How’s about we start with some toast and apple sauce, with a couple of those super nutrition shakes that Cap likes to drink and see how that feels before we work up to something heavier? Fair deal?”
Peter didn’t need to think about it. He nodded.
“Perfect.” Dr. Cho smiled reassuringly at him again. “We need to build you up, Peter. You’re body doesn’t have the fuel it needs to repair itself, but once we get that sorted, we’ll be able to get you out of here and back in the real world.”
The idea of “the real world” felt far more daunting than Peter had expected but he couldn’t help but perk up. “So I can still leave tomorrow morning if I eat tonight?” Peter would choke down every ounce of nutrition shake disgustingness if it meant that he could—“
“I’m sorry, Peter. That’s not quite what I said, but nice try.” She gave his hand a pat and continued. “We’ll reassess after you’ve had some calories and some real rest and see where it leads. Okay? I’m hopeful that there’s enough of an improvement by—let’s say lunchtime, that we don’t need to worry about anything more than calories, nourishment, and the standard protocols.”
“Okay, so maybe by lunch then?”
“We’ll reassess, Peter,” she repeated, a tad more sternly. “I don’t want to release you and then have you wind up back here again because we moved too quickly... again.” That last jibe was directed at Mr. Stark.
“But I promised I’d eat?!” Peter leaned forward as he exclaimed, tweaking his ribcage again. “Ouch—shit!” He clutched at his ribs. “Now that I know, I can be extra careful—“ His promise was lost in the coughing jag that snuck up on him.
Doctor Cho stepped back to let Mr. Stark soothe him while he worked his way through the fit, but kept alert in case things took a turn—which they didn’t. Peter pushed Mr. Stark’s hands away from him weakly. “Stop it. ‘m fine.” Peter insisted. “I could even go up now.” *cough-cough* “An’ I can stay in bed.”
“Peter,” Friendly Dr. Cho was definitely becoming less so. “Now may be a good time to bring up the fact that you came into the med bay with a punctured lung as a direct result of multiple broken ribs which required the use of a chest tube to keep you from suffocating. Your concussion is barely resolved. And let’s not lose sight of the fact that you were bleeding out from a wound in your thigh from who knows what that isn’t healing as quickly as it should AND is actually looking a little red and puffy at the edges.”
“What?!” Both Starks were at his bedside and looking more closely at the still uncovered wound but it was Mr. Stark who started freaking out. “You’ve got him on antibiotics, right? That alley was all sorts of nasty and he could have—“
“Tony, stop.” Mrs. Stark stopped his descent into a panic attack with those two words. Peter had missed so much. “Let her speak.”
Dr. Cho acknowledged Mrs. Stark’s call out with a nod then addressed everyone. “First off, of course Peter’s on antibiotics. We knew where he’d been found thanks to the information Pepper provided—not that it changed the course of treatment.” Her focus shifted to Peter. “Antibiotics have always been a part of your open wound protocol, Peter. And as it seems you’re developing some sort of infection, I’m afraid you’ll be on those for a while still.”
Peter started to protest, “But—“
“But nothing, Peter. I’m sorry, but unless something has changed in the last two hours, the Starks are currently responsible for your medical decisions, and I’m sure they’re still on board with this.” Peter flushed at the reminder of the insanity of his life as she looked to the two other adults, who both nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Peter, but it’s necessary. At this point, I can almost guarantee you’ll be a resident of the med bay until at least tomorrow evening—maybe longer depending on the blood panels we’re going to run once I get some blood samples for you.”
Peter scowled, which Dr. Cho was amazingly immune to after all her years of taking care of Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers. “If you’re blood work looks good, and we can get your leg healed up and your lungs sounding better by then, I may,” she stressed that word for emphasis, “find it within the kindness of my heart to switch you over to an oral antibiotic and let you head upstairs to finish up your healing there... but when that happens this time, I’ll be checking—frequently, so don’t think you’ll be free to undo all the hard work we’ve done on you in the past week, got it?”
Peter heaved as big a sigh as his damaged ribcage would allow, then mumbled a less than polite sounding, “Yes, ma’am.”
Again, used to the petulance of disinclined patients, Dr. Cho ignored the attitude and moved on. “Perfect.” She grinned like she hadn’t just broken Peter’s heart and walked toward the bedside table, the Starks backing up to give her the necessary room. Pulling open a drawer, she pulled out the supplies needed to cover the wound back up. “Now, I’m going to wrap this quickly,” she dropped the supplies on the table and better positioned Peter’s leg. The wound was covered with several gauze pads and Dr. Cho expertly wrapped them securely in place. “And because I’m such a nice person, I’m not even going to use tape on your skin. Sorry again, by the way.” She gave him a cheeky wink, trying to cheer him up, it seemed. “And you’re welcome.”
“Thanks. I ‘preciate that,” he mumbled. Peter crooked a weak half-smile, but avoided making any sort of eye contact. The imperfections in the blanket covering Peter’s other leg were suddenly far more interesting.
No one said a word as Dr. Cho finished the wrap, or when she pulled out the equipment necessary to do the blood draw she’d wanted. Once that was completed, Peter only whispered an ‘okay’ when she announced that a tray would be delivered soon and that he was to eat everything... or else, and then left.
“Well then,” Peter flinched as Mr. Stark clapped his hands together and declared, “one thing Dr. Cho got right is that it is late, so let’s get Peter fed and watered so we can all call it a night, shall we?”
Mrs. Stark rolled her eyes and sighed. “How’s about first we send you off upstairs to change into something more comfortable?”
Peter froze at the words.
But they also stopped Mr. Stark in his tracks. “Why, Mrs. Stark,” he playfully wriggled his eyebrows. “Something more comfortable? Are you trying to seduce me?”
Giving him a playful shove, she mock scolded him. “Damn it, Tony!” Mrs. Stark blushed at her husband’s antics. “It’s late and we’re all exhausted. Can you be serious for one minute, please?!”
Mr. Stark paused, then processed what he’d heard before grinning deviously, “Oh ho, my dearest Pepper Potty Mouth—I think someone owes the swear jar a contribution.”
She scowled. “Real cute, Tony. I was under duress so it doesn’t count.”
“Oh, it counts, Pep. Don’t even try to get out of it. Besides, what kind of example are you setting for our young and impressionable Peter, here? Huh?” Mr. Stark gestured over to Peter, expecting the Peter of five years ago to add his own banter to the mix, but present day Peter was at play and couldn’t find it in him to comply... not now. Not when—“Peter?” Mr. Stark sobered quickly. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”
Peter didn’t process that he was the one being spoken to right away, but caught on to the stretch of uncomfortable silence and realized a beat too late. He smiled robotically and nodded, probably a little too emphatically to be convincing, if he thought about it. He choked out an, “Sorry? –zoned out... I’m fine?” and hoped it would be enough. That’s what he’d asked Peter, right?
Mr. Stark approached Peter with a confused caution, then reached out and brushed a thumb gently against Peter’s cheek. “I don’t think I believe that, bambino.” He presented his tear-dampened hand to Peter, showing him the reason for his doubt. “Wanna try that again?”
“Wha—?” Peter brought his own hand to his face and wiped at the tears he hadn’t noticed falling. “Oh. I didn’t know.” He repeated his previous words. “I’m sorry.”
There was no disguising the concern on Mr. Stark’s face. “I don’t want you to be sorry, Peter... I want you to be okay. Can you tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours?”
And Peter wanted to—wanted to tell Mr. Stark to stay because if he walked out the med bay doors, Peter would be right back where he was when his parents kissed him goodbye all those years ago, or when Ben had laid before him dying on the sidewalk that night—or when his heart had almost stopped beating at the thought of his last living—no. He couldn’t. He knew what Mr. Stark had promised, but the idea of putting it to the test?—His chest ached.
He was so tired of the jumble of thoughts in his head... so tired of being left behind.
Peter had to try harder. “I think I’m just over-tired, Mr. Stark... and my head is still hurting a little so—Dr. Cho is probably right that I need to rest, so I’m just gonna...” Peter fumbled to find the controls for his bed.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, kid.” Mr. Stark stopped his hand. “Helen said you had to eat first, and besides that, I’ve seen you tired. Your version of tired is you falling asleep at your work station mid-sentence with a screwdriver still in your hand. This is not ‘just tired.’” He could feel Mr. Stark’s gaze on him. “Does your head hurt enough that I should call Helen back?”
A short head shake, ‘no.’
“Then it’s something else? ‘Cuz I know you, Peter Parker, and this is screaming deflection. What’s going on?”
Peter clamped his mouth shut. He wouldn’t.
Mr. Stark leaned forward, resting on the guard rail of Peter’s bed, and staring at Peter like he was a puzzle to solve. “So you’re not gonna talk, huh?”
Peter closed his eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Mr. Stark inhaled, ready to speak up when a knock on the room’s door frame interrupted him and drawing Peter’s attention.
“Hey, Peter. Looks like I’ve lucked out and get to see you one more time tonight! I’ve got the tray that Dr. Cho requested here for you,” Lydie announced as she entered the room and placed the tray on a rolling table that had been parked by the door before wheeling it over to the bed. She pointed to the food directly in front of her patient. “Eat, and so you know, I’ve been directed to measure intake so I think she means business.”
Peter scowled. “I said I would.”
“And I’ll be keeping track to prove it, so get going.” She pulled a spoon from the napkin on his tray and held it out for Peter to grab. “And a friendly reminder. It’s late and sleep is another part of your care plan. Slow and steady is all good if you need the time to get this down, but this isn’t a dinner date—” She eyeballed the Starks as she said that. “Let him eat. Got it?” Yup. Lydie was used to dealing with difficult patients and visitors alike.
Mrs. Stark smiled, “Of course, Lydie. In fact, I’ll make sure he takes care of that tray while your former patient heads up to the penthouse to get changed into something he won’t complain about.” She gave Mr. Stark a gentle shoulder bump and made a show of gently pushing Mr. Stark a few steps closer to the door. “And if we play our cards right, Tony here will be back just in time to tuck Peter in and get in a few more hours of sleep for himself, too.”
Peter perked up at that. “Hold on? You’re coming back?”
Both of the Starks seemed surprised by the question, but Mr. Stark spoke up, “Of course, I’m coming back, sweetheart! You don’t think Doctor Strange snapped me up a bed just for kicks, did you?”
Peter didn’t answer... couldn’t.
“Perfect. Then I’ll leave you to it,” Lydie addressed Mrs. Stark again. “And if Peter does manage to fall asleep before I check back, just push the table away and I’ll collect the tray later.”
“Of course. Thanks, Lydie,” Mrs. Stark responded.
And Lydie left.
The silence that accompanied the nurse’s exit allowed them all a moment with their thoughts, but Peter could barely process that Mr. Stark was really coming back. He wouldn’t be all al—
“Pardon me, Pete? I can’t hear what you’re saying.”
It took a second to realize that he’d said that out loud?
“Peter? Honey? Did you think—?” Mr. Stark couldn’t bear to finish the question, Mr. Stark simply looked confused for the briefest second and then understood. “Wait a second? You’d honestly thought we were leaving you for the night?” He didn’t even try to hide the hurt at Peter’s assumption. “C’mon, Pete! Of course I’m coming back! I always stay when May can’t—right? That’s the deal!”
Peter fiddled with the spoon with his fingers, not quite sure how to answer the question.
“Peter?” Mr. Stark whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
Mr. Stark exhaled and dragged a hand down his face in frustration. “You know... I’m really hating that word, kid. It seems that’s all we are these days.”
Peter bit his tongue.
“I think,” Mrs. Stark spoke up quietly to no one in particular, “that I am going to head up and grab some clothing and such for tonight so that no one else needs to leave anyone. I’m going to give Happy a quick call to check up on Morgan before I come back down though, so don’t expect me too soon, okay?” She gave Mr. Stark a quick peck on the cheek and then did the same for Peter, much to his surprise. “If you do manage to fall asleep before I get back, Peter, dream sweet for me, and I’ll see you when you wake up.” She ran an affectionate hand gently over his messy curls, smiled softly, and left the room.
They both stayed silent as they listened to Mrs. Stark’s delicate footsteps make their way farther and farther down the hallway and then listened as the elevator doors opened and then closed as Mrs. Stark made the request to FRIDAY to head up to the penthouse, please.
Figuring that he should say something, Peter mumbled, “You really could have gone up... I’d’ have been okay— even if you didn’t come back.” Yeah, it was a lie, but no one had to know.
But Mr. Stark disagreed. “Nah, it’s probably a good thing I stayed. If I’d have gone up to change, I’d have probably tried to take a shower, and I’m tired enough that I’d have somehow managed to fall asleep standing up, which would have led to my falling, hitting my head and knocking myself unconscious, and then I’d drown for good measure. Seriously, Peter, you saved my life.” Mr. Stark laughed low. “Those would be some Elvis calibre headlines, I’m tellin’ you,’ kid. You just rescued the PR department from a load of grief.”
Peter simply chuckled. “Glad I could help.”
And then neither of them said anything.
The silence held a little longer this time. So long, in fact, that Peter thought for sure that Mr. Stark was working out a way to jump into the heavy stuff again— Imagine his surprise when the next words out of his mouth were, “Try one of the super shakes, kid. I played around with the flavours and textures a bit while you were...” Mr. Stark swallowed down the ‘gone’ and moved forward like he hadn’t almost said it—“Yeah, Cap says they’re almost palatable now, but you’ll have to tell me. I mean, Cap grew up in a time when boiled potatoes and cabbage were a delicacy so I’m not so willing to trust his word for it.”
Peter offered a small, but sincere smile at the gloriously normal teasing. “I like boiled potatoes, Mr. Stark,” he replied back. “It’s one of the few things Aunt May couldn’t screw up in the kitchen, well... if she didn’t forget about them altogether — add a little salt and there they were. Perfection in its simplicity.”
“Well then, if that’s the case, tomorrow we’ll make sure to get some boiled potatoes on the menu for you. In fact—FRI?” Mr. Stark called up to the ceiling. “Can you get that request to whomever it is that could make that actually happen, please?”
“Of course, Boss.” FRIDAY said, then paused before continuing. “A notation has been made on the daily task sheet for Mr. Devin Kotter, Food Services Director for Stark Industries. He is scheduled to be on site at 6:30 am, though I cannot confirm when he will see it. Would you like me to make a verbal request upon his arrival, Boss?”
“That sounds great, Baby Girl. Thanks.” Mr. Stark chuckled as he finished that exchange and then dragged a hand down his face as his own fatigue caught up with him. “Yeah, remind me to tell Pep that I did that, okay? She thinks I’ve finally outgrown the whole ‘billionaire making stupid requests’ portion of my emotional development and if this gets back to her before I say something, she’ll wonder what’s up.”
“Yeah, I can do that.” Peter fiddled with his spoon before putting it down in front of him. “Uh, thanks.”
“No problem, now,” Mr. Stark assessed the meal in front of Peter before picking up the two cans off of the tray and giving them an appraising look. “I’m looking at your selection, and I’d personally recommend starting with the double chocolate shake before using the apple sauce and toast as a bit of a palate cleanser. I see that Lydie brought you a French vanilla shake, too—something light and sweet to finish off...” Peter yawned. “If you can manage to make it that far.”
Peter clutched at his rib as he caught himself in a snort laugh. “Yeah, I can do it. But what was that? A palate cleanser? Were you a maître d’ in a past life?”
Feigning offense, Mr. Stark raised his chin high, “I’ll have you know, I have a rather refined palate, Mr. Parker. You’d do well to take my advice if you want to get the most out of—“ he waved a can-filled hand toward Peter’s tray, “That.”
Peter sighed in resignation. He’d gagged on enough of these shakes during previous med bay stays that he knew it would be disgusting no matter what, but what choice did he have? His stomach was already churning at the idea of having to consume anything at all. “Ugh. Fine. I guess I’ll start with the chocolate.” He put his hand out to receive the can, which Mr. Stark shook up then kindly popped open before giving.
“Excellent choice, kid, now drink up so we don’t get yelled at when Pepper gets back.”
Peter did as he was told, choking back the canned shake quickly enough that he only barely tasted the faux-chocolate. He shuddered. “Nope. Sorry. Still gross,” he bit out as he struggled to suppress the urge to retch. He dragged in barely deep enough breath after barely deep enough breath, trying to quell the nausea.
“Yeah, I figured Cap was full of shit.” Mr. Stark rubbed Peter’s back as he fought for control. “Sorry about that, but we’ve got to get you eating, so...”
He swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth and waited a beat before he spoke again, “’s okay. Gotta do it so I can go.”
“Yeah, you do, I wish it was easier for you though.” Mr. Stark watched as Peter settled a bit. “Think you’re ready to try the toast and apple sauce now?”
Honestly, he wasn’t, but what else could he do? He steeled himself for more, grabbing a piece of lightly buttered toast. “No apple sauce.” Slurping something else down... no way. His gag reflex would never forgive him.
Mr. Stark seemed to get it, so he sat back down in the chair at his bedside and gave Peter the time he needed to focus on getting what he could down. “Is that at least feeling better than the shake?”
Peter nodded. He had to admit, the toast was definitely settling better than that shake, even as he could feel the shake making the littlest bit of a difference. There had been an undercurrent of weakness Peter hadn’t noticed until it started to resolve which meant... Peter yawned again, wider than the last time, as he feebly brushed the crumbs from the front of his hospital gown. His body was going to put the influx of nutrients to work right now. He stared at the tray, exhausted by the amount of effort he’d have to put in to keep going. “I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to finish this, Mr. Stark.”
“Oh?” Mr. Stark stood up again. “Are you okay? Is the first shake still making you feel sick?”
“No... I mean, yeah, the shake is definitely still trying to decide if it’s gonna stay put, I think, but no. I really am super tired, is all.”
Mr. Stark surveyed the tray. “I’m pretty sure you haven’t had enough, kiddo. The med bay gods will not be pleased.” He picked up the second shake and held it out in offering. “I know it’s hard, but do you think you could at least get this one down, or even just half? For me?”
Afraid that even being in the vicinity of the shake would set him off, Peter pressed himself back into his pillows. “I’d do about anything for you, Mr. Stark, but I honest-to-goodness don’t think I can.“ He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head in protest. He hoped beyond hope that Mr. Stark could see the sincerity in his eyes. He knew he should be eating and the fact that he was doing nothing but worry Mr. Stark was beyond obvious, he just—“Please? Like—even if you just hold onto it and I promise I’ll try again later, I just...” His chin warbled. “Shit.” Again?! He felt them coming, and Peter tried to blink the tears away—then failed. “I swear Mr. Stark, the shake isn’t even that bad. I don’t know why...” Peter pressed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes, hoping this would stem the tide.
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t do that.” Mr. Stark pulled Peter’s hands away, then grasped them tightly in his own. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You don’t need a reason, and you especially don’t need to be embarrassed... and if you want to, we’ll hold onto the shake for later. Alright? This isn’t a race. We’ll get you upstairs, I promise, but until then, we’ll make sure someone’s always here, okay? You’re not going to be alone—not for one second, if we can help it, do you hear me?”
Peter nodded as vigorously as his actual headache allowed, “I know, I know. I promise. I’m just—“ Peter didn’t know how to explain so he flailed his hands in the air. “It’s just—“
“Look, today’s been a bit of shit show, again, and you keep getting put through the ringer, so why don’t I tuck my spider-baby into bed and sit with you until you fall asleep, huh? When you wake up, I promise that someone will still be with you, okay? Either Pep or me... or both maybe? We’ll see.” Mr. Stark thought for a moment. “And,” He picked up the shake again and gave it a little wiggle. “I’m gonna sneak this demon shake under your pillow in case you wake up and decide that you want to have another go at it. Okay?” Mr. Stark quickly hid the shake out of sight.
Tears slowing, Peter yawned then nodded. Sleep sounded better than anything right now.
“Fantastic.” The man smiled, “Let me adjust this for you and then—“ Mr. Stark found the controls Peter had been fumbling for and started to lower the back of the bed. “Let me know when it’s good, yeah?”
Peter closed his eyes and let himself fall back with the mattress, ignoring the twinges of discomfort in his ribs until it felt right. “There,” he whispered and the bed stilled.
“Then there it is,” Mr. Stark spoke softer than he had before.
Peter didn’t bother to open his eyes again, wasn’t sure that he could if he were asked to. His head was perfectly cushioned now that he was a little closer to flat, the headache he’d been actively ignoring seemed to lessen.
“That’s it, kiddo. Just keep your eyes closed, I’ve got you,” Mr. Stark whispered. “Another blanket for the bambino,” Peter felt the weight of a new blanket settling upon him. “We’ll snuggle you in tight.” Mr. Stark pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. “And for good measure—“ A soft kiss pressed against his forehead. “There you go; an official dad-kiss to keep the nightmares away. Now—“ Mr. Stark ran a gentle hand through Peter’s hair. “Good night, Peter. I’m right here with you if you need me.”
Peter hummed in acknowledgement, let himself sink further into the mattress. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. G’night.”
Mr. Stark sighed then spoke softly, “You know, one day you’ll call me Tony... in fact, I think I might just try some subliminal messaging while you sleep—if that’s okay with you?”
Peter laughed just as softly, “Go for it, Mr. Stark.,“ he replied and tried to let his mind drift.
When he finally let go and nodded off completely only a few minutes later, it was to Mr. Stark’s hushed whispers. “Mr. Stark must be called Tony... Mr. Stark must be called Tony... Mr. Stark must...”
Tony’s POV
Tony glanced up from his moderately comfortable seat when Pepper slid near silently into the room looking dressed for bed and holding a small bag of personal items for him. “Hey, honey. You’ve been gone longer than I thought you’d be. Is everything alright with Morgan? Happy?” he whispered as he stood up to receive it, concern bleeding into his tone.
“Everything’s fine,” she answered quietly as she noted the sleeping boy in his bed. “Happy is most likely going to be bringing Morgan back to the penthouse tomorrow. Apparently being at the lakehouse makes her sad because it’s missing her Gerald.”
Tony, who had already rifled through the bag and produced a shirt and sweats, paused in confusion. “Gerald? I don’t remember a Gerald? Is that new friend at daycare?”
Pepper rolled her eyes. “Nope. It’s the alpaca we haven’t bought her yet."
“Good grief,” Tony huffed out as he put one leg, and then another into the sweats. “She’s named it? That’s it. I’m blaming you and that alphabet book, missus ‘A is for alpacas!’ Honestly, Pep. It’s been two years—if she keeps this up, I might crack. A man can only take so much!” He exclaimed with hushed urgency even as he yanked the sweats up around his waist.
“No, you won’t,” Pepper soothed, “Besides, we have more important things to deal with than Morgan’s animal fixation.” Her attention fell on the sleeping teenager. “How’s he doing?”
Tony shook his head as he finally discarded the hospital gown then hastily pulled the band shirt over his head. “Physically? I know he’ll be fine. Emotionally? He’s a wreck, and I can’t blame him one bit. I’m a little concerned about his eating, but he’s had a rough week, and I want to give things a chance to normalize before I completely freak out.”
Pepper pondered for a moment. “If I’m remembering correctly, he’s never been great with his medications, has he?” Pepper asked. “It took a day or two for his stomach to settle, right?”
He recalled those times, before Thanos, when Peter had ended up in the med bay because of a stab wound or, more often, a broken bone. He’d always try to tough it out, but eventually a painkiller would need to be used and eventually Peter would be puking into an emesis basin. Poor kid. “Yeah, you’re right. Geez. I can’t believe that slipped my mind... I’m sure that’s it. It’s still tough to watch, though.”
“I know it is,” Pepper comforted him, “But he’s right where he needs to be, and we’re going to make sure he gets better soon, I promise. And if Happy and Morgan are going to be home tomorrow, we’ll have more reinforcements on the ‘take care of Peter’ front.”
He knew she was right, that his worrying was for nothing. Peter was going to be fine, but still something felt unsettled, like he was missing something important. His obsessing would get him nowhere, though, so he allowed the redirect. “Yeah. Morgan is going to freak out when she meets him, isn’t she?” He sat himself back down in the chair and pulled Pepper into his lap.
“She sure is.” She rested her head on his shoulder as she snuggled in.
“And I bet you Happy’s gonna blather like a baby.”
Pepper hummed as she nodded into his neck. “Fool’s bet, sweetheart. Not taking it.”
They both sat with their thoughts for a few minutes and Tony wondered if Pepper had managed to fall asleep before he’d worked his way through the chaos in his brain. “Pep? Are you still awake?”
“M-hm.”
“Pep? I’m really scared that I’m going to mess this up.”
She pressed reassuringly against him. “I know you are.”
“But I’m going to, aren’t I?”
She hummed once more, then reached to wrap her arms around him, obviously more awake then he’d thought. “Yup, you are... and so am I—and I’d bet May’s got another whopper or two in her. He’s a teenager, Tony. Try as we might, we’re going to screw up... and then hope he knows we still love him at the end of the day.”
Tony let the words stew in his brain for a few minutes. “Pep?” He whispered into her hair once he’d figured out what else he needed to say. “I know I’ve already said this, but thanks... for supporting me, trusting me, being incredible... I know you didn’t sign up for this... him. You could have had a completely normal life... without me... and all of my baggage...”
Pepper drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and then lifted her head to give Tony all of her attention. “Mr. Stark, listen closely to what I am about to say to you, and remember it.” Tony tried to look away but her hushed intensity drew his gaze, “I knew what I was getting into the moment I met you. Maybe not the specifics, but still, I knew. I don’t think either of us expected the whole time travel and fighting intergalactic space villains thing so no one can take the blame for that but—” She paused a few seconds to collect her thoughts and continued, “You... my trusting you has led me to so many incredible things that I’d have missed out on if not for you. Being the CEO of an industry leading tech company that’s going to fix the world one day—being a mother to the most amazingly terrifying little girl—and finding a best friend and sister in May.” Her eyes took on a sadness as she continued. “So far, my dearest Mr. Stark, you and all of your baggage have led me to exactly where I want to be, and if that also means that I get to share in the raising of an incredible, selfless young man as he moves forward from this... trauma?...Grief? Then I’m on board, honey. For better or for worse, sickness or health, and all that other stuff, okay?”
Tony’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, “You are a gift, Pepper Potts-Stark... even though I technically made you CEO because I thought I was dying—“
“Oh!” Pepper shoved him away and stood up, trying to keep her laughter quiet as Tony did the same. “Don’t be a stinker, Tony. If you’re going to be that way, I’m going to take the bed.” She blew him an air kiss and made to climb into the spare med bay bed.
Tony couldn’t have that, “Or—“ he sidled up behind her, “We could share?”
She seemed to contemplate the offer, then rolled her eyes as she agreed, climbing in and working her way to the far side of the bed. “Fine, we can share, but if you even think of getting handsy, bud, then you’re out of here, got it?”
Tony chuckled low, “Got it. Seriously, all I want to do is snuggle up and grab a few hours before Peter wakes up again. I’m worried that—“
Whatever Tony was worried about was cut off by a barely audible whimper from Peter’s bed. Tony rushed to his side, glancing at the machines still connected to Peter to make sure that everything still looked the same. He’d practically memorized each monitor’s display and it all looked the same except for—
“No,” a simple, desperate plea escaped Peter’s lips and Tony understood why his heart rate was elevated.
Damned nightmares.
“Peter? Sweetheart? You’re okay, kiddo.” Tony caressed Peter’s cheek and hoped the kid could shake it off. “C’mon, bud. It’s just a dream, ‘kay? Just a dream...”
Maybe Peter had been working his way to waking up on his own, because his face relaxed and he turned towards Tony’s voice. “’Tony?”
His breath caught as he heard who Peter... his kid had called out for, and leaned closer to him as he soothed the boy back to sleep. “That’s right, sweetheart. I’m right here. Tony’s here.”
Only feet away, Pepper watched on. Tony fixed Peter’s barely shuffled blanket and kissed his cheek before settling back into the chair alone, any plans for sleep forgotten. Tony didn’t need to explain to her that he’d keep vigil over their kid. Pepper set an alarm on her watch then took full advantage of the quiet. She closed her eyes to sneak in a few hours of sleep so she could wake up to take a turn at Peter’s bedside. Hopefully Tony would let her take his place then.
And if he didn’t, she’d take her place beside him... like always.