Chapter 2
Peter’s eyes were heavy. He could hear sounds of movement around him; the lights were buzzing, someone’s pen was scratching against paper at the foot of his bed, and there was a light pressure over his left arm and shoulder. His legs were covered in a light blanket, and he could feel a slight breeze as an AC unit kicked in somewhere above. Shifting his body, he winced in response to the sharp pain that radiated outward from his stomach.
Oh yeah, that, he thought, and forced his eyes open to take in more of his surroundings. He could see the bandages wrapped around his torso, stopping the bleeding that had likely been occurring for a while, and noticed an IV in his right arm that he hadn’t felt earlier. He looked at his left arm and fought back a smile and a few tears; Mister Stark had his hand resting on his arm, and his mentor’s head was resting on the edge of the bed. Peter couldn’t see his face, but it looked like he had been there for a while. A sling was around his other arm, and Peter remembered with a jolt that his mentor had been injured shortly before he was.
“Oh, Peter!” He looked up and saw Natasha at the foot of his bead. “You’re awake!” she whispered, clearly trying not to disturb Mister Stark.
“Hi Nat,” he whispered. “Where’s everyone else?” The windows around his room were blocked by blinds, and there was no sign of anyone else spending time in his room.
“Barton is somewhere getting the dressings on his burned leg changed, and Bruce is making a new batch of those painkillers that only work on you and Cap. Steve and Bucky were called out to help with cleanup, because they don’t have life threatening injuries.” She smiled reassuringly as she sat down on his right side. “I’m here with cracked ribs and the main objective of making sure that someone was here for you when you woke up.” She handed him a glass of water, and he gratefully took it.
“What about Mister Stark?”
“Stark is a grade-A idiot,” she said, with no malice in her voice. “No one should sleep like that with a recently dislocated shoulder, but we couldn’t get him into his own bed, and he ended up like that.” Peter smiled. “You ready to hear about your own condition?”
He hadn’t really been thinking about how his body felt, but now that he focused on his injuries, the pain came back with a vengeance. “Oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” said Nat. “One of the bird’s spikes got you right under the ribs, and you lost a lot of blood. It either missed your major organs or you can repair them more quickly than other things, because after you passed out, the med team was able to stabilize you. Once they cleaned and wrapped everything, it was just a matter of when you’d wake up.”
Peter looked at the clock. “Sweet, I wanted to get a nap in today!” It was five o’clock, six hours after Mister Stark had called him in. No time to go back to school today. “Normally I’d be happy to have a day off of classes, but I traded a Spanish exam for getting stabbed. Not my favorite activity to replace class.”
“Not funny, kid.” Tony’s voice was gravelly with sleep, and Peter jumped at the sudden movement near his arm, which he instantly regretted. “I shouldn’t have called you in. It was too dangerous.” Nat wasn’t in the room anymore, but he hadn’t seen her leave. Maybe she wanted them to have a personal conversation.
“Mister Stark –“
“I told you, call me Tony.”
“I was just trying to save your life. It would have gotten you. I needed to –“
Mister Stark raised his head, and Peter saw his eyes for the first time. They were red and tired, like he had been fighting the urge to sleep, and ultimately failed. “Don’t you think I know that, kid?” His voice was quiet, yet forceful. “I don’t want you to ever take a hit for me. You’re not expendable.”
“And you are?” They were getting dangerously into therapy questions, like he called them in the workshop.
Tony sighed. “No, that’s not the point. The point is that you shouldn’t have to get hurt because of me. That’s my fault. You fucking scared me, kid.” Peter didn’t know what to say. “You can’t just tell me that you don’t count as a hero anymore because you’re going to die and then bleed out in my arms.”
Peter tried to think back to when he was last conscious, but all that came to mind was the feeling of getting stabbed, and then his entire body kicking in at once, like a computer with too many tabs open. That was probably shock from the blood loss. “I’m not sure I was 100% there for that conversation.”
“You definitely weren’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that it never should have happened in the first place. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again.”
“I’m not going to promise that I won’t use my powers for good if it comes to that. That’s the whole superhero deal.”
Tony cracked a smile. “So you are still calling yourself a superhero, then?” Peter nodded. “Promise me that you’ll keep those values, but you’ll never put yourself in unnecessary danger.” His eyes narrowed. “Like today.”
“I think we may have different views on what constitutes unnecessary danger here, but okay. I promise.” Tony sighed in relief, and Peter could see how exhausted he looked. He was wearing old sweats and a t-shirt under his arm sling, and with the lovely view of the top of his head, Peter could see that his mentor had a lot of grey hairs. “How about we both get some rest now?” Peter leaned back in his hospital bed, and Tony’s head rested near his arm again, looking a little more comfortable than when Peter first woke up.
Natasha peeked in, happy to see that the boys were resting again, and healing from the day’s activities. It was cute and quiet; both of them had fallen asleep. She shut the lights off and softly closed the door. “Sleep tight, boys. One of you has a make-up Spanish test to take.”