Peter sighed in relief as Happy pulled up to the curb of Midtown High – effectively cutting off Flash's rambling taunts. He smirked at the gaping teen – amusement sweeping through his tense features when Mr. Hogan made a show of opening the door and ushering Peter inside the Audi as if he and Mr. Stark were of equal status and importance.
The look on the bully's face was beyond priceless, and Peter filed the image away under the mental category of the most epic moment of his life.
“Hi, kid,” Mr. Stark mumbled, smiling genuinely as he watched the teen bounce excitedly in his seat.
“Hi, Mr. Stark,” he squeaked. “Oh my god. Did you see his face? I thought he was going to pass out. That was awesome, Happy. Thanks!”
“I don't know what you're talking about, kid,” Happy grumbled, activating the privacy screen between them to end the conversation.
Peter just flashed the driver a knowing smile in the rear view mirror before the screen slid closed and blocked his view of him.
He turned toward Tony, intending to lure him into the conversation, but the words died on his lips as he realized the billionaire had fallen asleep, his head leaning against the window. He focused on his phone instead, texting Ned to fill him in on the events that had just unfolded.
About 15 minutes into the drive, Peter's anxiety shifted into high gear, alerting him of impending danger. He tensed as the hairs on his arms stood on end and his breathing and heart rate increased several notches. Nausea churned in his stomach, and he swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat.
Something was wrong.
Tony was muttering in his sleep. Peter caught the words “No” and “stop” several times before he jerked to semi-consciousness and tightly gripped the door handle as if to brace himself. He failed to open his eyes, so Peter assumed he was drifting off again. He shook Mr. Stark's shoulder desperately. “Mr. Stark! Wake up!” The older man groaned in response, grimacing as if in pain. His right hand drifted to his left arm, kneading and rubbing the taut muscles.
“Pete, wha-- the matter,” he murmured, eyes still closed. “'M tired, kid. Can it wait til we get to the tower?”
A tingle spread down the teen's spine, paralyzing him. Adrenaline pumped through Peter's veins, his vision blurring at the intensity. Peter gasped – unable to draw in a deep breath – his breathing quick and shallow.
Tony opened his eyes in alarm, studying the teen. With shaky hands, he immediately tugged the boy closer, keeping a firm hand on his neck.
“Kid, look at me. Breathe,” he demanded, putting one of Peter's slim hands against his chest. “Follow me. In – one, two, three, four. Out – one, two, three four. Again. In – one, two, three, four. Out – one, two three, four. Good. You're doing great. Keep going.”
Once Peter had calmed down, Tony let go of him, shifting a few feet and cradling his left arm. The teen's brow furrowed in concern.
“What was that, kid?” he asked, patiently, though Peter noticed he had grown a few shades paler.
“I don't know. My spider sense is going crazy for some reason – could be all the traffic, though – angry drivers and all that,” he said, looking out the window and noticing that they were moving at a snail's pace due to the rush-hour traffic.
“Yeah, probably,” Mr. Stark replied, closing his eyes and swallowing heavily.
“Are you okay, Mr. Stark?” As he studied Mr. Stark's crumbling composure and the white-knuckled grip he had on his arm, his spider sense sent a painful jolt through his spine.
“Mr. Stark, what's wrong?”
“Nothing kid – just feeling a bit car sick. I'm okay,” he whispered. He doubled over suddenly, inhaling sharply and hissing through his teeth. “Oh, God, not now,” he swore under his breath, but Peter heard every word.
“I'm gonna be sick,” he said a bit louder, clutching his chest and moaning. He sat up slightly, taking deep breaths through his nose and releasing them through his mouth.
“Kid, do you have any--” he started, holding a hand over his mouth and swallowing. Remembering the brown paper bag he had gotten in health class that contained sex-ed information as well as contraceptives, he quickly emptied the items out in the seat and passed it to Tony.
The older man immediately started gagging and dry heaving. Peter knew how horrible being car sick was, especially if you couldn't bring anything up. However, the teen had a feeling something more was going on.
Peter laid a hand on Mr. Stark's back, rubbing soothing circles into the trembling muscles. As if taking that as permission to let go, the billionaire finally emptied his stomach into the bag with a groan. He shuddered and panted as wave after wave of nausea hit and he vomited twice more.
As his spider sense continued to tingle, Peter focused his sensitive ears to focus on Tony's heart rate. He immediately noticed the beat was off – a staccato rhythm beating quickly and unevenly against his chest.
“Mr. Stark, your heart--”
“Are those condoms?” Mr. Stark interrupted, slouched forward in his seat, his forehead resting in his palm as he stared at the wrapped contraceptives lying innocently between them.
“Yes, but--”
“Why do you have them in your backpack? Surely, you don't have time for a quickie at school.”
“Mr. Stark! Focus – Wha-- Are you having chest pains?” Peter asked – his voice tinged with hysteria. The engineer quickly moved his hand away from his chest self-consciously. “Kid, it's okay. It's just... stress... My anxiety is all over the place right now – so sometimes I experience a bit of angina. It's being treated. Don't worry.”
“No offense, but that's crap Mr. Stark. What's going on?”
Tony sighed in defeat – too tired to deflect properly. “When I went to Siberia to try and work something out with Cap, there was an altercation. I initiated it --” Peter opened his mouth to ask why but Tony sensed this and interrupted him. “The reason doesn't matter right now. But it was me against two super-soldiers, so I ended up being a little worse for wear afterwards.” He paused, drawing in a deep breath and almost choking on it. “I have a cardiac contusion. It's going to take some time to recover, but I'm getting better.”
“I don't understand – nothing is strong enough to puncture the armor and cause that much damage. Unless-- no, tell me he didn't. Mr. Stark, he didn't use the sh--.”
“Peter, I gave as much as I got. Not all of this is on him.”
“But he hit you hard enough to bruise your heart, Mr. Stark. That's inexcusable.”
“And I blew off his best friend's mechanical arm!” Tony barked, trembling with anger and grief. “He was just protecting him. I'd have probably done the same if I were in that situation.”
“Yeah, I highly doubt that. He could've killed you, Tony. And I am almost certain that you held back on them. We both know how powerful your suit can be.”
“Hate to break it to you, kid. But after I reviewed the footage recovered from the plane, and I saw how close you came to-- being seriously injured while trying to stop the Vulture, I realized I'd probably resort to similar means to keep you out of harm's way.”
Peter tensed as he tried to comprehend the billionaire's whispered confession. Hope and a terrible seed of doubt fought for dominance in his heart. He knew he was important to Tony – his actions proved that more than words ever could. However, hearing the older man verbally admit his feelings made the uncertainty that often plagued his thoughts fade a bit. He smiled shakily. Their relationship reminded him of the fleeting memories he had of his dad – Richard. Mr. Stark radiated the same sense of safety that he had only experienced for a few moments as a toddler.
While it's true that Uncle Ben had been a father in every way that mattered, Peter's connection to Tony differed. The teen could open up more to Tony, because he understood many aspects of the teen's life – such as dealing with an anxiety condition and the pressures of being a superhero.
Peter and Uncle Ben were close, but his uncle was laid back and calm – always in control of his emotions. He sympathized with Peter's battle with anxiety, but he couldn't empathize – not like Tony.
“I'm sorry, kid. I shouldn't have taken away your suit. God, I can't believe I provided you with a freaking safety net and then ripped it out from under you. What the hell was I thinking? You could've died,” Tony groaned. He gripped his hair roughly, tearing at it as if to keep his mind tethered to the present.
“So much blood on my hands – no more,” Tony mumbled, rocking forward and curling in on himself.
“I knew... I knew how much the suit meant to you. How it helped you better control your sensory input and the panic attacks... and I took it away. Shit, shit, shit.” The engineer's breath stuttered, and he gripped his heaving chest, clawing at the silky cloth beneath his trembling fingers. “I should've – I didn't – Kid, don't --” Tony's milky brown eyes met his and he reached out desperately, gripping the sleeve of the kid's t-shirt.
Moving slowly, Peter reached out with both hands, resting them gently against the billionaire's pale cheeks. His thumbs swept underneath his tired eyes in a gentle sweep. “Mr. Stark, I'm okay. We're okay.”
“I'll do better, Pete. I promise.”
Tony rested his forehead against Peter's curls, copying the teen's slow, steady rhythm. His eyes drooped in exhaustion and he sighed. “It's weird. I dreamed last night that you were my kid — biologically, I mean. Seemed so real that I woke up half convinced it was true. Wish it was.”
Tony stiffened as soon as the words spilled from his loose lips, but Peter smiled so brightly that he sagged forward, hiding his relieved grin in the teen's shoulder.
“Me too, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered. “Me too. Oh, and Tony?”
Tony lifted his head and sat back – an eyebrow lifting in question and a small smile softening his features at the use of his first name. “What, spiderling?”
Peter smirked. “Your breath reeks.” Tony laughed – the sound unrestrained and genuinely amused. Peter offered him a piece of gum and Tony swiped it with a huff, immediately popping it in his mouth. Instantly, he looked calmer as he focused on the minty freshness bursting across his tongue. The teen listened to his mentor's heart beat and relaxed as it finally settled into a normal rhythm – glad that his ploy to distract him with humor and a treat had worked.
***
Tony ruffled Peter's hair and shot him a knowing look. He loved this kid – and he would stop at nothing to ensure his safety and happiness. As Tony drifted into a comfortable contemplative silence, the kid mumbled sleepily, “I love you, too, dad.”
The engineer smiled, for once glad that he had unintentionally verbalized his thoughts.