Believe it or not, patrols usually went pretty well for Peter, besides the occasional scrapes and bruises. This was a relief for him; his normal routine didn’t involve getting badly injured, meaning he wouldn’t worry May or Mr Stark with life-threatening predicaments.
Until, of course, he did.
In all honesty, he was to blame. The previous night he’d gotten three and a half hours of sleep - instead of resting up after school, he’d decided to patrol. What he intended to be an hours session turned into a 3am-on-a-rooftop-starting-at-the-skyline situation.
Peter figured, since it was a Friday, that he could sleep in the next day. So to him, the drowsiness didn’t matter all that much. Which is why, perhaps, when his heightened hearing picked up on some violent commotion about a block away, he didn’t think twice about taking on yet another rowdy group.
“...Karen, how many are there?” Peter asked as he webbed towards the shouting.
His vision swayed ever so slightly, his head swimming as he swung. It was only subtle, but enough to make him blink harshly, scrunching up his face in an attempt to rid himself of the sluggish sensation.
“Three,” Karen answered. “Though I do not recommend engaging. Your senses aren’t functioning effectively due to sleep deprivation.”
“It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” Peter waved her off.
“One appears to have a knife.”
Suddenly, Peter was far more alert. “What?!” He exclaimed, picking up the pace of his swinging. He landed at the corner by the ally. “Someone could get hurt, I can’t let that happen!”
“In your current state, that someone could be you.”
Peter almost appreciated the concern in her tone, but he silently cursed how her AI was so advanced that she could make him feel guilty. Sometimes he forgot that she wasn’t even human.
“I’ve got it handled,” he answered after a moment’s hesitation.
Peter took the lack of response from Karen as a sign of trust. He crept from his spot behind the wall, focusing on the voices ahead.
“...I-I don’t want any trouble, man,” one stammered. He appeared to be mid forties, face framed by a goatee.
The other guy chuckled. “Trouble? No, no, no, you walked into me, remember? Spilt me damn beer!” His slurred voice grew more enraged as he spoke.
Peter saw the glint of the knife in the aggressors hand. He knew he had to act quick; by this time, the other man was backed up against the wall. Knife-guy raised his arm— there!
Peter webbed his wrist, pulling him away from the cornered victim. As the weapon was dropped, the man came barreling towards Peter. Surprisingly, considering the lack of sleep, his reflexes were still sharp. He swerved. In an instant, he slammed the man’s head into the dumpster, the impact rendering him unconscious.
And then there was silence.
“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Peter quipped lightly to the stunned, yet obviously relieved victim.
“T-thanks... hey, do I know you?” He slurred.
Peter almost chuckled. “I’m sure it’ll come back to you later, you’d best clear outta here before I call the cops.” He glanced at the unconscious body by his feet. “For now, I’ve got a criminal to web up.”
The man, still in a daze, staggered out of the ally. Peter watched, making sure he wasn’t about to fall, before turning around and reverting his attention to—
At first, it felt like pressure was being applied to the right side of his stomach. It was the first thing he registered, before the figure that had moments ago been on the ground standing before him. Then, there was fire. It exploded in his abdomen, spreading like lava. Warm blood pooled in a patch through his suit, the soaked fabric clinging to his skin.
The blade was ripped from his insides, causing Peter to wheeze, clutch at the wound and collapse to his knees. His vision swayed, head spinning like a hamster wheel. His veins were frozen. His hands were enraged, shaking worse than they ever had before.
Every sound around him was unintelligible; the footsteps drifting away, the blood trickling through his system, Karen’s voice... it was all mush, refusing to separate. It was getting hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to distinguish between sight and sound.
Then, the world went dark.
====
“...Boss, I’ve got an alert from Karen, nineteen blocks away.”
Tony Stark almost choked on the coffee that he’d been enjoying. He placed down the cup, brow furrowed. “Fri, it’s 3am, why would...”
Of course. Peter was patrolling late again.
“How come we didn’t get an alert sooner?” The billionaire asked.
“It appears Mr Parker had turned off the tracking protocol again, however, the suit is designed to—“
“...Reactivate all communication protocols in the event of an emergency,” Tony finished, jaw clenched. His heart constricted in his chest, dreading what could’ve happened. “What does it say?”
“Mr Parker is experiencing extreme blood loss from a stab wound.”
Tony’s entire face paled. “You could’ve led with that!” He all but snapped at the AI, tapping on the nano-tech housing component on his chest.
His body was incased in sleek armour, the nano-parts slipping over his clothes like water. Luckily, he’d been working in the penthouse. As quickly as he could, he ran outside to the landing pad, boosting his repulsors. Airborne, he spoke again:
“Fri, give me a visual. How long will it take to reach him?”
“At full power, four minutes.”
Tony shuddered. He almost couldn’t force himself to grumble out his next words. He cleared his throat.
“And how long until he bleeds out?”
“As a rough estimate, 15 minutes.”
“Send an alert to the Medbay. Helen will still be up, tell her to get the place prepped as soon as possible.”
“Right away, Boss.”
Tony could almost hear his heart hammering in his chest. The next few minutes were pure agony; the ground beneath him shuddered as he landed by a littered, damp alley. He spotted Peter almost instantly, suit whirring as he rushed to the boy’s side.
He knelt, gently pulling Peter to face upright - upon seeing the damage, his heart constricted. His suit was saturated with blood: too much blood. The fabric was wavered like a worm trying to slide into mud, the red substance that clung to it oozing like slimy residue.
“Peter?” He asked. “C’mon, bud, open your eyes.”
Nothing.
“Hey, you in there?”
Once again, silence from the Spiderling. If he wasn’t panicking before, he sure as hell was now.
“Friday,” he muttered hoarsely. “Scan his wounds.”
There was a pause. Tony took the time to scoop Peter into his arms securely, holding him closely.
“Mr Parker appears to be suffering from infection from the stab wound.”
“What? Doesn’t he have enhanced healing?”
“He does. But it also makes his body far more vulnerable to infection, poison, radiation damage—“
“Jesus, okay, okay. Just put 100% power into the thrusters,” he ordered through gritted teeth.
As he shot up from the ground once again, he felt as if he wanted to puke. He probably would have, if he had been able to smell through the mask. Ultimately he was glad he had filters in place, vomiting would’ve only slowed him down.
The journey back to the Tower was shorter than Tony had expected yet it felt like an eternity. As he landed, he’d gently laid Peter down, before exiting his armour.
Carrying an unconscious, enhanced teenager was harder than it sounded. Tony’s muscles felt as if they’d been pulled apart by searing hot blades by the time he’d gotten Peter to the Medbay - he couldn’t help collapsing into the nearest seat, the steady clattering if medical machinery and Helen’s authoritarian voice muffled through the walls keeping him grounded.
God, he just hoped he wasn’t too late.
But he hadn’t been.
Right?
“Sir?” A voice called.
Tony snapped out of his train of thought, his attention switching to Helen, who was standing in front of him.
“That was quick, is he okay?” Tony asked.
“It’s been half an hour.” Helen spoke slowly. “How long did you think it had been?”
Tony paused. “...Felt like five minutes,” he answered honestly.
“I’m not surprised, you looked minutes away from a heart attack when you pulled Peter here. Go and get yourself some food and water, I’ll let you know if anything changes right away.”
Tony wanted to argue, but he knew that he could trust Helen to take care of Peter. And, of course, that she was right. He needed to take a moment to refresh himself, to ease off the worry that was still playing his heart strings like a harp.
So he did just that.
-
When Peter woke up, his head was engulfed in a deep mist, limbs heavier than solid oak tree trunks. A mix of buzzing pain and a lightheaded sensation washed through his system, back and forth like waves.
His senses registered someone next to him, encouraging him to peel his eyes open. There he saw Mr Stark, carefully placing a tray of food on the bedside table.
“Mis’r Stark?” He grumbled, squinting.
“Hey, kid. You doing okay?”
Mr Stark sat on the chair next to the... hospital bed? No, that wasn’t right. Hospitals didn’t have glass walls. Yet there was an IV in his arm connected to a morphine drip, and a heart monitor beside him. Confusion must’ve been etched into his features.
“You’re in the Medbay. Gave us all a huge scare,” Mr Stark quickly clarified.
“What happened?”
“I’m not really sure, kiddo. All I know is that you were on patrol and got stabbed.”
Peter blinked. “Stabbed?”
“Yes.”
“With a knife?”
“Yup.”
“Was I bleeding?”
“Oh, yeah. It was no big deal though, I only had to carry you back here when you were minutes from dying and with an infected wound.”
Peter took a moment to take all of that in, the guilt hitting him after a slight pause. “Oh my God, Mr Stark, I’m so sorr-“
As Peter attempted to sit up, his head pounded and his bones felt as if they were shattering glass. He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. It was only now that he felt sweat clinging to his hair, and the light shiver that ran down his spine with every movement.
“Easy, kid, easy. Lay back down.”
Peter didn’t need to be told twice, even in his morphine-induced state. He practically collapsed back into his spot, shaking.
“It’s okay, you know?” Mr Stark informed him quietly. “I’d be mad that you were out so late, but I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Peter stared up at him with a child-like gaze. “You’re not angry?”
“I was, when Friday told me you turned off the tracking protocols again. But a curfew doesn’t put a cap on the risk of injury, it puts a cap on the risk of, uh... losing sleep.”
Peter nodded slowly, listening intently. “I don’t think I’ll do that again,” he mumbled.
Mr Stark chuckled. “That’s a good idea, buddy. Now, I think it’s time you get some rest.”
“Okay... Mr Stark?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“Thank you for coming to get me... You’re my hero,” he slurred.
Tony smiled. He reached forward; Peter didn’t understand why at first, until he felt the billionaire’s hand gently ruffling his hair.
“Anytime, Pete.”
With that, Peter let himself fall back into a soothing, painless state of sleep. He felt safe; whether it was the drugs, or the comfort of having his mentor/father figure beside him, he didn’t know. What he did know, is that he didn’t feel that safety when he normally slept.
Needless to say, it was a relief.
—
The next few days were stressful for Tony. Peter had been in and out of consciousness; the gaping hole in his stomach was almost completely healed, due to his healing factor, but the kid’s fever was still as high as ever.
Helen allowed Tony to move him into his room at the tower on day three. As much as it was draining to take care of an ill super spiderling, it was far better than him being dead. He’s choose helping Peter to recover from infection due to his healing factor being imperfect over choosing which suit to wear at a funeral in a heartbeat.
So, Tony had let May know about the situation over a very lengthy phone call. She was out of the city for the next two weeks for business at a new job, and wanted to make visit sure her nephew was okay. Eventually they settled on daily FaceTime calls, and Peter remaining at the tower until she was home. Tony had also made sure that Helen upped the morphine dosage; they were still trying to develop drugs strong enough to work with elevated metabolism levels, so it was the best that they could do.
The stress, however, was more caused by the fact that Peter’s fever just wasn’t going down. Most of the other symptoms of infection had died down, but the fever was raging only a few degrees cooler than it had days prior. So, Tony was doing his best to take care of the kid.
As it happened, at the moment Tony was carrying a tray of soup, water and a bottle of painkillers to Peter’s room, carefully as to avoid spillage. As he carefully nudged the door open, he caught sight of the tired teen glancing up at him. Bags hung deeply under his eyes, his skin red and blotchy.
He could see the violent pain crawling through Peter’s expression. The kid seemed to be trying to hide it, tensing to disguise the flinch as he began to move.
Tony offered a light smile as he gently placed the tray on the bed next to Peter, who slowly adjusted himself to a sitting position. Tony being a Tony, pretended not to notice.
“Hey, Mis’r, Stark,” he greeted sleepily.
“Hey, kiddo. You doing okay?”
“Tired,” Peter mumbled. “Bored, too.”
“How about we put on a movie? Or a TV show?”
Peter seemed to perk up at this. “Do you have The Office?” He asked, resulting in a chuckle from his mentor.
“We have everything, kid. The Office it is.”
Tony stood up, and moved to the other side of the bed to grab the remote from the bedside table. As he switched the TV on, he considered sitting next to Peter.
Here he was again.
Truth be told, Peter was like a son to him. He WAS a son to him. But Tony didn’t know if he’d be overstepping any boundaries; what if he’d totally been misinterpreting his relationship with Peter? Imagining it as more than it was?
He shook off the thoughts. Peter had called Tony his hero last night. Sure, he had been delirious, and he figured the kid didn’t remember even saying it, but it had been on his mind since it happened. He didn’t understand how it could warm his heart so much; plenty of people had used the word ‘hero’ to describe him. But from Peter? It hit differently.
And he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.
With that, he settled in the spot beside Peter atop of the covers. The latter of the two was wrapped in several blankets, but it didn’t seem to fend off the onslaught of shivers.
“You cold, kid?” Tony asked.
Peter paused, as if he hadn’t noticed that he’d been shivering so badly. A sheepish blush covered the kid’s face as he reluctantly nodded.
Tony scooted closer, opening up his arms for Peter to rest on him. He didn’t want the kid to move too much; it’d only make the pain worse. Peter paused. For a moment, Tony’s throat tightened. Shit, was that the wrong move? He was about to think of some dumb cover, when Peter spoke.
“Are you sure?”
Tony nodded, visibly relaxing. “Course, kiddo. You’re not gonna warm yourself up.”
This seemed to ease the kid’s reluctance. Peter shuffled closer, which almost made a faint smile tug at Tony’s lips. As Pete nestled into the billionaire’s chest, he couldn’t help but move his hand to softly run through the curls atop of the spiderling’s head.
The two fell into comfortable silence. Tony felt oddly content, the paternal gesture seeming natural to him. Which ironically was a wild concept; he feared, when he first realised that he cared for peter as if he were his own son, that he’d be doomed to act as Howard had. Too stuck in his pride to just be a father. But it wasn’t the case. It wouldn’t be the case. Not if he could help it.
“I meant what I said, Y’know?” Peter said, voice muffled by the fabric of Tony’s shirt.
Tony looked down at him, not exactly sure what he meant. But he waited for Peter to continue, instead of interrupting.
“In the Medbay? When I called you my hero?”
Ah. Tony smiled softly. “To be honest, I thought you were too delirious to remember you’d said it.
“Delirious or not, it’s true. You’re my hero, Me Stark.”
“Pete, I-“
“Tony.”
Any disagreement about to spill from Tony’s heart was crushed in an instant. It had always been ‘Mr Stark.’ Never Tony.
“You literally saved my life. I would’ve died. It wasn’t even the first time and I doubt it’ll be the last. So, you are a hero.”
Tony wanted to deny the label. Him, a hero... it didn’t add up. But the fierce confidence in Peter’s voice was hard to challenge.
If that was what Peter thought, then so be it.
“You never fail to surprise me, kid,” was all that Tony could manage.
The fevered, pained teen smiled. “That’s good, right?”
“Hell yes it is.”
Once again, there was quiet. Peter took the painkillers, with slight difficultly, drank and ate, while Tony supervised. They binged The Office until dark, when Peter had slumped into unconsciousness. Tony wasn’t far behind.
The next morning, Pepper would walk in and see the pair snuggled, snap a photo and smile at her two favourite boys. But right now, there was peace in the support they were unknowingly providing one another.