Chapter 13
“Morgan, please! Get back here before you wake everyone up.”
Peter recognized that whisper-hiss anywhere. “Happy?” He squinted to open his eyes and shifted his attention, bleary-eyed, toward the door, only to see a frantic Happy crouching down and trying to coax something out from under his bed. “Wha’s goin’ on?”
Hearing Peter, Happy popped up to standing and stared blankly at the boy in the bed. “Peter?” He opened his mouth to speak when the answer was interrupted by a muffled giggle coming from under his bed. “Oh, crap, Peter. I am so sorry for waking you up.“ Happy apologized, still trying to be quiet as he hesitantly stepped toward the bed. “I asked FRIDAY to take us to Pepper, thinking she’d be in the penthouse but the doors opened up here and she was off like a shot before I could...”
Another giggle, not so muffled this time, burst from whoever was under the bed.
“Wait... wha—who was shot? I don’t—“ Still sleep drunk, Peter tried to focus on what Happy was actually saying. He turned to check on his mentor and wife cuddled together and sleeping soundly on the bed beside him, blissfully unaware of anything. “Mr. Stark...?” He could hear each of their heartbeats, knew them but then heard something more. Peter looked back at Happy again. “Wha’ the...?”
The confusion on Peter’s face was clear and Happy rushed to fix it. “Crap, No kid, I was talking about Morgan!”
The few disjointed words that Peter had managed to pull together had him leaping up and out of bed. “MORGAN’S BEEN SHOT?!” Peter swayed where he stood as he shouted out in distress. He hadn’t even met her yet and she was already gone—
Mr. and Mrs. Stark woke up to pandemonium. “Wha’? Happy? What’s goin’ on?” Mr. Stark released the loving hold he had on his wife and sat himself on the edge of his own bed, voicing his own confusion as he scrubbed his hand over his beard.
“Nothing’s going on!” Happy promised his boss and friend as he reached out to steady the boy. “And geez, kid, no. Listen to me, everyone is fine. No one’s been shot.” He watched carefully as Peter steadied. “Now, can I please help you get back in the bed before you give me or Tony over there a heart attack?”
Peter paled and swayed again, but not for the reason Happy thought. The memories of yesterday still too close to the surface to be so casual about something like Mr. Stark’s health, not that Happy knew it. “Yeah, sure... thanks,” he whispered and allowed himself to be manhandled back into the bed. That it seemed as though Happy was tucking him in? Super weird. Peter could barely fathom that this was the same gruff head of security that he’d known before. He’d need to process that later, but being able to lay down once more as he tried to figure out just what the last minute had meant was a definite help.
Happy pulled Peter’s blankets up over his shoulders and patted them flat. “There you go, Pete... all better?”
Yup. This was definitely an evolved Happy. Peter nodded.
“Good, now...” Happy stepped back and crouched down, disappearing from Peter’s view.
“Huh? Happy?” Peter sat back up again and moved to look over the edge of his bed, needing to know what Happy was so focused on.
But of course, by now, both Starks were out of bed and completely in the loop regarding whatever the heck was going on. Mr. Stark was at his bedside and pressing him gently back to the mattress as Mrs. Stark came around to where Happy had been and dropped from sight, too. “Relax, kiddo,” Mr. Stark assured him. “Everyone is safe, no one’s been hurt. It seems, however, that a certain monkey has escaped from the circus...” He glanced down at the floor, grinning.
Mr. Stark’s goofy smirk as he said that confused Peter all the more. “Monkey? There’s a monkey under my bed?” Peter rubbed at his eyes, trying to wake himself up. Nothing was making sense and—
The giggle Peter had only been tangentially aware of earlier suddenly turned into a squeal of delight and Mrs. Stark seemed to magically appear beside her husband with arms full of a dark, curly-haired, purple ruffled, blue legged, yellow rubber booted, mass of—“Morgan H. Stark. You can’t run away from Uncle Happy like that, especially on the med bay floor.” Mrs. Stark lovingly yet firmly chastised the little girl, who decided now was the time to play bashful as she tucked her face into her mother’s neck. “What if you’d woken up Aunt May? And look.” She gave the little girl a nudge, “You definitely woke up poor Peter and gave him an awful fright.”
A small gasp escaped from her and then, “Petey?” The little girl whispered as she snuck a peek at the boy in the bed through the safety of her mother’s hair. She pulled back from her mother after she’d finished with her obvious analysis, and looked up to her for some sort of confirmation. “Mommy? Is that really Petey?”
She planted a kiss on Morgan’s forehead, tearing up slightly as she nodded, “Yes, sweetheart. That’s him.”
She glanced over to Peter again, and he watched as something seemed to click on her little face. “Daddy, did Petey do something hairy-rained again?” She looked over to her father.
“Hairy-rained?” Mr. Stark looked as confused as Peter felt.
“Yeah, you said Petey did hairy-rained things to end up in the med bay all the time, but his hair is dry but he’s here in the bed, so?”
“I don’t know what—“ Mr. Stark cut himself off, then quickly attempted to cover his mouth before he laughed at whatever Peter was missing. “Morgan, I think you meant harebrained... and no, you silly. That’s not what it means and that’s not what this was.” He smiled as he put his hands out to take her in his arms then propped her up on his hip. “Peter has a booboo that needs special medicine so he’s got to stay here for a little bit. That’s all.” Mr. Stark definitely downplayed the whole scenario for Peter’s benefit. “But—“ he hoisted the girl up to steady her, then turned back to Peter , all while ignoring the frown on his wife’s face. “Since you’re already here, would you like to meet him properly?”
Morgan’s head bobbed up and down with an excitement only a child could possess while Peter, shocked at the eagerness he suddenly felt at the prospect, propped himself up on his elbows.
“Oh, no, you don’t, kid. Let me.” Mr. Stark placed his daughter down at the foot of the bed with a look that definitely told her to stay put, and within seconds a controller was in his hand and its back raised with Peter more comfortably propped up. “Now, is that better?”
Peter nodded as he pulled the blanket down off his upper body to free up his arms. “Yeah, thanks,” he smiled tentatively and pulled in a deep breath. He ignored the improved-from-yesterday aches and twinges from his ribs and thigh as he shifted to get a bit more comfortable.
“Good, because you need to brace yourself for the chaos that is the one... the only Morgan H. Stark!” Mr. Stark threw out some pretty epic jazz hands and then cupped his hands around his mouth, pretending he could simulate a crowd gone wild... ish.
Peter and Morgan made eye contact, and then, if Peter had any doubt that Morgan had any part of Mrs. Stark in her, she rolled her eyes and groaned. “Daddy. You’re bein’ weird again.”
Happy snorted, but said nothing.
“You, hush,” Mr. Stark pointed accusingly at his friend. “I still have those pictures from the last time Morgan gave you a pedicure and access to literally every web server on the planet.”
Happy scowled. “That’s low, Tony. Even for you.”
“Oh, you have no idea how low I can go, Harold.” Mr. Stark’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. “Keep it up and a little chat with Quill will have those pics going galactic.”
“Ugh, Daaaaaad-dy!” Morgan rolled her eyes again as she interrupted the grownups. “Stop being mean to Uncle Happy. You still need to tell me that he’s Peter and tell him that I’m Morgan so we can be for real inner-duced!” She gestured over to Peter, who was just trying to keep up with the alternate reality he must have dropped into.
But Mr. Stark faux-sobered and turned his attention to his daughter. “I am so sorry, Little Miss. You’re right. I am being most rude.” He cleared his throat. “Ms. Morgan, please allow me to introduce you to Mr. Peter Benjamin Parker.”
That apparently was all the little girl had been waiting for. “Finally!” she exclaimed, and in a flash, she was gone from her perch by Peter’s knee and throwing herself across his chest and squeezing him for all she’s was worth. “I’m so happy to meet you, Petey! I can’t wait until your better so we can play with my legos, ‘cuz Daddy says you like legos, too—and then we can play pretend and you can be the prince I can be the dragon, ‘cuz princesses are stupid, even though I’m not allowed to say stupid, but they are—and – and – and—
Peter heard nothing of Morgan’s plans as the ringing in his ears and the whitening of his vision coincided with the first knee planting directly over top the line of stitches along his thigh. That the shock of pain was compounded by the herculean rib squeeze of a four year old girl kept him from noticing Mr. Stark’s exclaimed, “Morgan, NO!”
He barely noticed the tiny weight being lifted off his body as he fought back a cry, just inhaled sharp, curled in on himself and rocked as his body try to come back online.
“Easy, Peter. Let it go, bud. You’ve got this,” a voice instructed as someone took a firm hold of his hand.
He couldn’t squeeze back, not with his strength, but he hummed in acknowledgement and released his breath as the peak of pain receded, faster than yesterday, thank goodness for small miracles.
“That’s right. Nice and easy. It’s okay,” the voice... Mr. Stark encouraged.
And after a few more breaths, it was ... sort of. Peter was able to pull up and out of his curl... sort of, and straighten his still stinging leg back to flat on the bed... sort of.
“There you go, Peter.” Mr. Stark leaned towards him and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Good job.”
Peter huffed out a laugh and allowed himself to fully recline into the bed. “Yeah, such a good job.” He pulled in a deeper breath. “My one real skill... what’s the going hourly for not vomiting all over yourself?”
Mr. Stark stepped back and glared. “Hey. There will be no self-sassin’ from you, young man. Now,” Mr. Stark’s face softened and rubbed Peter’s arm in comfort. “Are you really okay? I know that Morgan’s going to be so—“
Morgan?! ”Shit! I mean- Shoot! Morgan!” Peter exclaimed then scanned the room for her. Seeing her, Mrs. Stark and Happy, gone, Peter panicked. “Oh, no! Did I scare her? She just surprised me is all—I’m so sorry— did she—“
Mr. Stark sighed and cut him off. “Hey, Peter—enough.” He squeezed Peter’s arm, having figured that it was one of the better ways to ground him. “She’s fine. Pepper and Happy just took her out to give you a minute to pull yourself together without an audience... and to have a chat about proper behaviour in the med bay.” He glanced once toward the door then focussed back on Peter. “Now answer the question. Are you okay? Morgan landed pretty hard there and after last night...”
Peter worried his lip as he, too, glanced at the door, wondering if he could’ve messed up his first meeting with his—the Stark’s daughter any more. “I’m fine,” he said half-convincingly.
“Then you won’t mind if I take a quick peek at your stitches?”
“Peek?” The question caught Peter off guard. “Why would you want to—“
“Take a look and see if I need to call in the nurse on duty to make sure you’re not haemorrhaging to death while you worry over a four year old girl with plans for world domination? Yeah. Why would I want to do that?” Mr. Stark playfully cuffed the back of Peter’s head. “Look, humour an old man. Let me check and then we can pretend this didn’t happen... or not. Okay?”
Peter rolled his eyes and tossed back his blanket to reveal his leg before crossing his arms in defiance. “Fine, but I already said that I’m—”
“Fine. Yes, geez! Everyone is fine. I hear you, kiddo, but you’ll have to forgive me for not believing a certain someone who is notorious for underplaying just about anything related to your physical wellbeing.”
“Pfft—one time...” Peter grumped as he watched Mr. Stark push back the gauze tape and then lift a corner of the pad.
Mr. Stark didn’t bother to contain his mirth at Peter’s petulance, stopping what he was doing to call him out. “It has been many, many times, you fibby-liar. My own personal favourite ‘I’m fine’ moment is still that time with that gunshot wound to the leg you were trying to cauterize with a soup spoon and a birthday candle. If memory serves, you insisted you were actually ‘super-fine’ that time.”
Peter flushed in embarrassment and said nothing. He knew he wasn’t going to win this one.
Mr. Stark’s grin proved that he knew it, too. “I’m sure if I think for a minute, I could tell you what May’s and Happy’s favourites are, too. In fact—“
“Okay, I’ve got it!” Peter threw his hands up in frustration, much to Mr. Stark’s delight. “Can you please just tell me what the damage is so you can leave me in peace to die of utter humiliation?”
Peter barely dodged Mr. Stark’s hair ruffling attempt. “Geez—and they say I’m a drama queen. Alright, then, let’s get this party started.” Refocusing, Mr. Stark pulled the wrapped gauze back then cautiously lifted a corner of cotton pad protecting his wound, “Aaaaaand—it looks like your toast and a shake helped you out just enough to save the day!” Mr. Stark smiled and pulled the covering back a little more so Peter could see for himself. “It’s not perfect, but if I were to wager a guess, these stitches may even be able to come out.”
“REALLY!?” Peter had closed his eyes, not wanting to look, sure that his Parker Luck would come into play and his thigh would be a mess of gore and popped stitches, but sure enough—“Holy cow!” Peter shifted to take a look. It wasn’t perfect, that was clear, but the harsh pink line was. Peter wasn’t going to acknowledge that it still looked a little puffy. “Do you think Dr. Cho will let me go upstairs now? It’s practically all closed now, so...”
Mr. Stark’s face softened at his eagerness. “You know it wasn’t just the stitches, Peter, but it’s a start.” He patted the mattress by Peter’s leg and stepped back. “How’s about you see about consuming that shake you still have stashed there,” he pointed to the head of Peter’s bed, “while I go grab someone to come and take care of the leg. Sound good?”
Peter nodded, trying to keep the disappointment off of his face, which must have worked.
Mr. Stark grinned and patted his hand. “Awesome. I’ll be back in a flash.” With a wink, Mr. Stark headed out of the room and was on the hunt for whoever was staffing the floor that day.
Peter counted to ten in his head and then sighed. He was exhausted, and every little thing was compounding it—the stressful wake up call, his botched introduction to Morgan—even his brief interaction with Mr. Stark seemed to be taking a toll.
He pulled in a deeper breath than he could yesterday, thank goodness, and closed his eyes. If he could rest for a minute or two, he could try to tackle the whole shake thing and hopefully not barf all over himself—last night had been a near thing so...
Yeah, he wouldn’t think about last night—or yesterday—or the day before, or May or any of it. He just needed to quiet his mind. Please be quiet, and then he could pretend that—
It was barely a minute later that tiny footfalls approached the room, then stopped at its entrance. “Petey?” A little voice whispered. “Are you asleep or pretendin’?”
Not able to help it, he smiled a little and lolled his head toward the doorway as he opened his eyes. “Not asleep... and not pretending. Just trying, is all.”
She squirmed a bit as she stood there, nervous fingers twisting the hem of the pink Batman t-shirt Peter hadn’t specifically noticed the first time he’d seen her.
“Morgan? Are you alright?” Peter asked.
She came further into the room. “Oh. Yeah.” Morgan nodded. “But, ummm... I jus’ wanna say I’m sorry. Mommy says just ‘cuz I’m ‘cited doesn’t mean I shouldn’ be careful, an’ I wasn’ so I’m really sorry for jumpin’ on you and hurtin’ your leg.” She gnawed at her bottom lip, and then pondered deeply for a beat more before adding, “Yeah. Tha’s it.” With that declaration, Morgan came up to his bedside, put her hands up in the air and stared imploringly at Peter, still sitting in the bed.
And then she kept them there.
“Um?” Peter was growing more confused by the second and finally had to ask, “What are you doing?”
Morgan wiggled her little body in anticipation then smiled before answering. “I’m waiting for my hug, is all.”
“Hug?” Had he missed a step somewhere? “Why?”
Once more, Morgan rolled her eyes, “You’re so silly, Petey. It’s the ‘I forgive you’ part!” Yup, she was definitely Mrs. Stark’s daughter. “Daddy says that’s how you know you mean it... but Daddy also says it’s the best part ‘cuz I give the best hugs, too, so you gotta’.” She did a little dance, arms still up and then stopped. A spark of realization came to her and her brow furrowed as she contemplated. “But you’re still hurt so you can’t so...” Her arms dropped, and with an agility only a four year old could pull off, Morgan scampered up the side of the bed and plopped down on the mattress beside Peter, kicking off her cumbersome boots as she went. “There,” she declared as she then shifted and got up onto her knees, facing Peter with anticipation. “If I promise t’ be careful, can I give you a hug that won’ hurt your booboos?”
Peter couldn’t imagine that anyone could ever say no to Morgan Stark—not with those big, expressive brown eyes, so much like her dad’s— and after the last couple of days, nothing sounded better, so he nodded dumbly, moved some of the extra length of IV tubing out of the way and then opened his arms up to receive the most gentle hug he’d ever received in his life.
“Is this okay, Petey?” Morgan asked softly. “’m not hurtin’ you?”
Peter shook his head ‘no’ as his eyes watered and gave her a light squeeze back. “Nope. I’m good, Morgan. Thanks for the hug.”
“Y’er welcome.” He could hear the smile in her voice, then she hummed. “You give good hugs, Petey.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “Daddy always said he bet you’d give the best hugs, too.”
Peter blinked as he processed her words, hastily brushing away the tear that fell. “He said that?”
“M-hm.” She nodded into his shoulder. “An’ he said when you came back, he’d give you a million hugs an’ eat gross pineapple pizza with you an’ watch Star Wars with you an’—” Morgan’s... Mr. Stark’s to-do list was interrupted by a huge yawn and then Morgan’s focus shifted. “Can I watch Star Wars with you, too?” she asked. “Daddy says it migh’ be too scary for me still but if you’re there maybe he’ll say yes?” She lifted her head to see his response, blinking sleepily as she waited for it.
And Peter was a goner.
“Sure, Morgan. I’ll talk to your dad and we’ll watch it together—maybe when I come back upstairs?”
Getting enough of a reassurance that she’d get her way eventually, Morgan smiled, giggled, and pulled away, but now only so she could snuggle herself into the crook of Peter’s arm. “Yay! This is gonna be awwwwe-some—“ Her words stretched with another, bigger yawn. “Big brothers are so cool.”
Peter choked. “What?” He floundered as he tried to find the right words. He knew what the Starks had said last night, no part of him thought that they’d actually meant it! But Morgan had said it... and meant it with every fibre of her four year old being.
Peter Parker was a big brother.
Morgan seemed clueless to Peter’s newest crisis and was on to another tangent in a blink. “Did you know that I when I woke up this mornin’, the sun wasn’t even out yet? An’ I couldn’ even see the trees! But I was so super e’cited so I got dressed all by myself an’ then I begged and begged...” Morgan’s next yawn was wider yet. “But Uncle Happy loves me so we got to come now.” Her tiny fists rubbed at tired eyes.
Peter was trying to pull it together and not fixate on what had just tumbled so innocently out of Morgan’s mouth. He’d need to come back to this later, but for now Peter moved onto the one thing he thought he could maybe manage. “Uh, are you sleepy, Morgan?” He shifted carefully so he could see more of her. “Did you want to nap a little?
She contemplated for a few moments, but then nodded. “Uh-huh, but you can’ tell Uncle Happy ‘cuz he’ll say he tol’ me so...’”
Which brought Peter to a new concern— “Wait a sec’. Morgan? Where exactly is Happy?” Peter glanced at the door, wondering if he should be worried that no one had come looking for her.
Morgan shifted, getting more comfortable. “The grownups were talkin’ by the desk. ‘cuz they were waitin’ for the nurse but they were bein’ sooo boring already so I came back here to visit you.”
Peter sighed. “But did you tell anyone you were coming in? They might be worried about you, you know.” He wondered how long he had before the three adults came barrelling into the room looking for her.
“Nu-uh,” Morgan rubbed her eyes. “Ms. FRIDAY?” Morgan called out into the room. “Can you please tell Mommy and Daddy that I’m with my brother?”
There was that word again. Peter’s heart jumped. He’d heard what Mr. and Mrs. Stark had said, but to hear it tumble so easily...
“I will send that message along, Little Boss,” FRIDAY interrupted his thoughts and Peter could hear the message being immediately relayed in the hallway. No one came rushing back into the room though, so at least that wasn’t a concern for the moment.
Morgan wriggled again, no spot seeming to be quite right for her.
Peter guessed he could fix that so he asked, “Would you like me to make the bed a little more flat, Morgan?”
“Yes, please,” she said then moved away from Peter as he grabbed at the bed controller to lower the back of the bed.
Peter smiled softly as Morgan whispered a, “wheeee...” and then reached down to pull Peter’s blankets up and over her shoulders, her blanketed silhouette looking rather odd for the bunching of ruffles making their presence known. “Thank you,” she said softly, and closed her eyes.
Peter waited a couple of minutes, not quite sure what to do with himself. She’d snuggled up to him almost immediately, then rolled over trying to find a comfier spot, which meant what? Peter could only assume that he’d served his purpose so, using his spidey-stealth, Peter slid out of the bed. Assured that she hadn’t been disturbed, he straightened the blankets just a little so Morgan would be comfier and then gently lowered himself in the chair stationed between his and Mr. Stark’s bed.
Morgan, already almost asleep, mumbled, “Mmm-‘ove you, Petey. G’night,” and drifted off completely.
What the—? Had she just—? Did she say—? Peter blinked as his brain tried to process what exactly had just happened in the last few minutes.
“Well, kid,” Mr. Stark startled Peter as he spoke softly from the doorway, “Either you’ve been hit by a bus or you’ve officially been whammied by our Little Miss. And seeing as you are upright and not sporting any tire tracks, I’ll assume it was the latter.”
Caught off guard, Peter jumped in his seat, “Geez!” Peter whisper-yelled as he clutched at his chest and glared at the man. “Give a guy some warning!”
Mr. Stark just chuckled and stepped into the room. “I’ve been watching you now for a good few minutes, Peter. I’m pretty sure you weren’t going to notice anything save a wrecking ball coming through the wall. Now,” Mr. Stark gave the room a quick glance. ‘I’d say you shouldn’t be out of bed until one of the staff gets in here to check things out but...” He gestured with a nod toward the tiny figure in the bed. “Been there, done that, totally get it.” Mr. Stark did take another second to assess. “The IV isn’t pulling or anything?”
Peter waved his IV’d hand casually through the air. “Nah, it’s all good.” Answering that was easier than trying to figure out how to process the whole Morgan thing.
“Is it?” Mr. Stark crooked an eyebrow.
And Peter knew that he was asking about more than his IV, or even getting kicked out his bed, but he just... couldn’t, so he just shrugged in reply. “I guess?” He couldn’t even
Mr. Stark didn’t say anything at first, only walked to the corner of the room to grab an extra chair and placed it beside Peter. “Do you mind if I sit here?” Mr. Stark asked and then waited expectantly.
Peter stared blankly at him for a moment then asked, “Are you pulling my leg or are you honestly asking me that? I mean, like, you own the building, so... you can literally sit wherever you want,”
“Yeah, well... as my sainted mother always said, ‘Manners maketh the man,’ and all that jazz.”
“But wasn’t that a quote from that movie with Mark Hamill in it?”
Now Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, “No, smart ass... I mean yes... and it starred Colin Firth, NOT Mark Hamill, by the way. But that’s besides the point. It was a quote used waaaay before the movie made it famous, hence my mom saying it. I’m pretty sure it’s Shakespeare, actually—And you haven’t answered my question yet. Can I sit here or...?” Mr. Stark stood patiently.
Realizing that Mr. Stark wasn’t trying to be funny, Peter nodded quickly and gestured to the chair. “Oh. Yeah, yeah. Of course.”
Mr. Stark’s eyes still looked tired, and crinkled a little more than Peter remembered from before as he smiled and took a seat. “I’m not quite sure why I’m even bothering. Your nurse is dealing with something out there quickly and will be in to check on you in a minute or two. I imagine we’ll get you up into the other bed and let Morgan get her beauty rest.”
“Makes sense, I guess.” Peter agreed then fell quiet for a moment, the mention of the nurse starting his brain cycling through it all again. “But...” he then continued hesitantly, “Everything’s okay with May, right? Nothing else has gone wrong?”
Mr. Stark seemed determined to keep Peter calm. “She’s as okay as she can be,” he assured Peter with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Mornings will be a little busier a little earlier for the next week or so, remember? With the dialysis and antibiotics and such?”
And Peter did. “Yeah, I remember... thanks.” He gnawed on his lip then spoke again. “And you’re feeling okay?”
“Yeah, kid. I’m feeling okay. Honest—This,” Mr. Stark waves his hand in front of his chest, “was way more dramatic than it was damaging. I promise.”
Peter nodded but said nothing.
Stupid brain.
Mr. Stark was okay.
May was okay.
“Oh! You’re breakfast tray will be up soon, by the way.” Mr. Stark piped up. Peter wondered if he knew that Peter was trying not to spiral.
He nodded again. “Cool.”
“And Pepper checked just before I came in... you’re boiled potatoes will be coming up, too, so bonus points for Mr. Devon, am I right?”
Peter half-smiled as he replied with a, “Yup,” though Peter was barely listening at that point.
There was so much to grasp—and it just kept on and on...
“I think he may have actually had his wife bring potatoes from home so he could accommodate. There’s no way he found a grocery store that sells potatoes open this early, am I right? I should probably get her a gift card as a thank you? Seems like the thing to do, yeah?”
“Sure,” Peter said, but his mind had already drifted back to his catalogue of thoughts he was trying not to freak out about all over again—May was okay... Mr. Stark was okay...
“I thought of promoting Mr. Devon to elephant trainer as a thank you, too. What do you think? It’ll come with a new uniform and everything.”
“That would be great Mr. Stark.” And Morgan? That had been an insane first meet... and the whole brother thing?
“His bonus would be literal peanuts, but hey...”
“Yeah, sounds good... wait—what?” Peter brought his focus back to the man seated beside him. “What are you talking about?”
Mr. Stark shrugged, “Well, if you were going to be weird, I figured I’d be weird too.”
“I wasn’t being weird,” Peter grumped back, I was just distracted.” The second the word left his mouth, he knew it was a mistake that Mr. Stark could latch onto and...
“Yeah, she is a bit much sometimes, but we love her.”
Peter turned toward Mr. Stark, surprised, yet not to see that his focus was solely on his daughter.
“So was it that she said she loves you that freaked you out, or something else?”
Okay—that was where Mr. Stark’s concern fell. Good. Morgan was confusing, but still the least confusing part of the past few days... well, now that Peter knew about her.
Peter cleared his throat. “She called me her brother.”
Mr. Stark didn’t look away from her, but smiled for Peter nonetheless. “I’m pretty sure we covered this last night, Peter.”
“I mean... not really? I just—“ Peter was shocked to find himself tearing up. “I’m not surprised that she knows about me. I just didn’t expect her to think of me that way without...”
“Aw, buddy, come here.” Mr. Stark put an arm around him and pulled him close and pressed a firm kiss to his hair before resting his head against Peter’s. “If you think, for one second, that we would not have told your sister about the coolest, smartest, kindest kid we knew, you are sorely mistaken.“
Peter sniffed and shook his head in disbelief.
“Well, believe it or not, it’s the truth. I’m a little worried that we may have played you up too much.” Mr. Stark teased. “She’ll be in for a bit of a shock once she actually gets to know you in all of your teenaged grossness.”
Peter snorted and pushed playfully against his mentor. “No she won’t, ‘cuz I’ll be the best big brother ever, and then you’ll be in for it.”
“And why do you think that? I’ll have you know that Morgan loves me ‘3000’—told me so just a couple of weeks ago, so I am and always will be her obvious favourite.”
Not able to let that lie, Peter countered, “She hasn’t had a chance to climb a wall with me yet. You know that’ll be a game changer.”
“If I buy her an alpaca...” Mr. Stark thought he’d gained the upper hand.
“Do you really think Mrs. Stark is gonna let you buy Morgan an alpaca?”
Mr. Stark deflated beside him. “Crap. You’re right. Darn it.” He sighed heavily. “So what you’re saying is I’m doomed, huh?”
Peter knew exactly how Mr. Stark meant it, but it hurt Peter’s heart nonetheless. How both a sudden hope and hopelessness could battle within him and ruin even this beautiful moment.
Damned Parker Luck was going to come and ruin it all.
Peter shifted and rested his head on Mr. Stark’s shoulder. Here, at least, the man couldn’t see as Peter blinked back another round of tears. “Yeah, Mr. Stark, I’m afraid you are.”