Fighting And Helplessness

Somewhere in the recesses of Peter’s mind, he knew his Dad had come. He knew that his Dad had finally saved him, and he was far away from Ryan now. He understood now, what it was like to really be saved from certain death… sure, Tony had gotten him out of many Spider related situations which he wasn’t equipped to handle himself, but this one was a whole lot different.

He remembered the time he thought his Dad was going to die, he remembered not accepting that fate. He remembers himself as an even smaller child, only nine years old and saving his Dad’s life. Peter wondered if his Dad had been that terrified when he was trapped in that place with the doctors and the guards and Ryan, or if he had still felt helpless after he was saved.

----

It was late, he wanted to brush his teeth quickly, so he could snuggle up to his Dad on the couch and fall asleep watching a movie like how most of their late nights were spent. He loved his Dad being back home, he was gone for three months and they were the worst three months of Peter’s life, all because he didn’t know if his Dad would even make it home. But of course, he did, just like he promised. He may have been in a sling and he may have been more haunted then ever before, but he was back, he was home.

He watched as the blue foam washed down the sink and then he was padding down the hall, his socks feeling fluffier against the carpet rather than the cool tiles in the bathroom.

‘Dad?’ He didn’t get a response, but he also didn’t know what was happening in the living room.

Tony was waiting for Peter. He was looking forward to having tonight for themselves, he had been feeling guilty with all the extra time he was spending on Iron Man and not his son. Peter loved Iron Man regardless of how much time it was taking from what they considered ‘normal’ time together. The times he would sit, curled in a blanket on the floor of the lab watching his Dad test things out was amazing, he swung between absolute awe and fits of laughter. His Dad was a genius, he had built something that was going to save so many people and it was the best thing he had ever done. As far as Peter was concerned it was the best thing anyone had ever done in the history of everything, and he didn’t need proof of that because just the fact that his Dad made it was enough.

The phone rang, and he wandered over to the couch, looking around to see if Peter was done brushing his teeth yet, he wasn’t. He pulled the phone from under a cushion and sat down slowly as he checked caller ID. It was Pepper, he frowned slightly, why was she calling so late? He sniffed and picked up the call, she immediately spoke.

‘Tony?’

Something else was happening, something was wrong, so, so wrong. He heard a high humming noise and then pain flared through his skull. It hurt, it hurt so much, he couldn’t move or talk or do anything other than freeze where he was.

‘Tony, are you there? Hello?’

All he could do was go limp, a hand took the phone from his ear and slipped behind his neck, supporting his throbbing, burning, aching head until it was rested against the back of the couch.

‘Breathe.’ The voice was familiar, and so fucking condescending and patronising. Obadiah Stane. Oh right, breathing. That was probably something he should try and do right now considering his lungs were beginning to burn as much as his head was. He sucked in a breath, but it was strained and required so much effort. ‘Easy, easy.’ Like he noticed before, so patronising. His head lolled to the left and he saw the stupidly fake tanned hand loosely holding something else he recognised faintly. ‘You remember this one, right?’ He held it up teasingly, switching it off. Turning the thing off did nothing, well it was easier to breathe and have coherent thoughts other than just ‘pain,’ but he was still paralysed, and it was horrible.

‘It’s a shame the government didn’t approve it. There’s so many applications for causing short-term paralysis.’

Now his head was clear he had the first rational thought swimming to the front of his mind and slamming him like a truck. Peter.

Oh god, he was being betrayed by someone he trusted, and Peter was home, he was here at home and only rooms separated him from Obadiah and his fucking paralysis tool. Peter, Peter, No Peter, please god brush your teeth for hours, please, please. He has to be okay, he can’t let someone hurt Peter. Fuck he was so glad he never told Obadiah about Peter, he was so thankful he decided to keep the kid’s life a secret from everyone except Pepper and Happy. Peter. PeterPeterPeter, please don’t hurt Peter.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that the man was moving away from him, and he had a sudden spike of fear that he was leaving to get Peter, but he didn’t. He stepped into Tony’s view and then there was a hand grabbing him by the cheeks and turning his face to the right, so their eyes would meet.

‘Ah, Tony.’ The traitor moved his hands away once he was satisfied Tony’s head wouldn’t loll to the side again, and as he quirked his eyebrows happily and removed the ear pieces he spoke. ‘When I ordered the hit on you,’ what. He what? He was behind Afghanistan? Obadiah was the reason he was trapped in a cave for three months and dunked in water and without his son, without Peter? The asshole was behind everything. ‘I worried that I was…’ while he spoke he was reaching into his bag to get something, and what it was made Tony want to scream, because it was a device designed to rip the only thing keeping him alive from his chest. ‘Killing the golden goose.’ He locked it into place, over his thin, white shirt and it began to whirr, smoke rising from where it was burning through the fabric. It hurt, it hurt, it was burning and blinding and horrible and his throat was convulsing around itself trying to get air in and the man was talking while he was doing things. ‘But, you see, it was just –’ The machine clicked and it fucking hurt so bad and his body involuntarily jolted and a horrible gasp escaped his lips and he wanted Peter to be so far away from Obadiah because nobody deserved to feel this. ‘Fate that you survived that.’ It had gotten what it needed, like a stupid claw machine, and it was being pulled from his chest and he couldn’t breathe again and there was so much pain, and the light was escaping from the reactor and he needed that, he needed it! He had to have that, or he was going into cardiac arrest and Peter really didn’t deserve that, Peter needed him, why was this happening?

‘You had one last golden egg to give.’ The light bounced onto Obadiah’s face and illuminated every part of him and warped his expression into one so menacing he looked murderous, which is exactly what he was, a killer. He smirked and laid a hand beside Tony’s head on the couch ‘do you really think that just because you have an idea, it belongs to you?’ He paused, and anytime he wasn’t focusing on the man’s words he was thinking of Peter, and how close he was to a murderer that Tony couldn’t protect him from like this. ‘Your Father, he helped give us the atomic bomb,’ that was because his Dad was a smart guy who apparently didn’t have qualms against mass genocide. ‘Now, what kind of world would it be today if he was as selfish as you?’ Then he tugged vehemently, and the last cord was ripped from Tony’s chest, along with the only thing stopping his death. Fuck, it hurt so much he made a pained, choking gasp again and Obadiah smiled, he smiled as he killed the man he worked alongside for years.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful. Tony, this is your Ninth Symphony.’ He relaxed and slid down next to Tony who was beginning to feel fainter and fainter, slinging an arm around the back of the couch so casually. ‘What a masterpiece. Look at that.’ He held it just in front of his face, inches away. ‘This is your legacy’ no, no it wasn’t. It wasn’t to him, it was to everyone else but to him, the only legacy that mattered to him was Peter, his son, his child. Peter was the only legacy that was worth anything in this world. Peter.

‘A new generation of weapons with this as its heart’ Peter. ‘Weapons that will help steer the world back on course,’ His son, Peter. ‘Put the balance of power in our hands.’ His child, his Peter. ‘The right hands.’ Obadiah was shutting the reactor away in his box, his movements were slow, teasing, because he knew how much pain Tony was in. ‘I wish you could have seen my prototype. It’s not as… Well, not as conservative as yours –’

‘Dad?’

Shit. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Peter go, run! Get out, go far away, no, no, no. Don’t fucking touch Peter, nobody touch him. Obadiah paused, flicking Tony a dangerous look.

‘Who was that, Stark?’

‘Dad? Where are you?’ Obadiah’s face split into a horrible grin, a fire igniting in his gaze as he stared at the doorway, waiting, like a predator waits for its prey.

‘Oh, Tony… was that a child? Do – you have a son, don’t you?’ He sounded so enticed by the idea of Peter, of him even having a child, and it was sickening because he knew why the man was so happy about it. It meant he had leverage.

‘Daaaad?’ Peter was so unaware, so blissfully unconcerned when he was about to walk right into the same room as a murderer.

‘Thanks Stark, you really make this so easy… hope you enjoy watching this.’ Obadiah whispered in his ear almost inaudibly as he slid behind the couch, out of view of the doorway, directly behind Tony.

He checked in most of the rooms, he only had a few others where his Dad would be, but it was most likely he was in the living room waiting to start the movie. He walked down the hall and into the living room slowly, and if he had been holding something it would have fallen to the floor as he looked at his Dad.

He was slouched, with his head being fully supported by the couch, he was terrifyingly pale, blood dripped from both of his ears and a small drop fell from his hairline too. There were overly pronounced veins across his skin and he didn’t look like he was breathing well.

‘Dad!’ He sprinted toward the couch, sliding to a stop and dropping to his knees immediately. ‘Dad what – what happened? Dad? Please be okay.’ He reached a hand out, presumably to hold Tony’s own hand which sat uselessly at his side, but he never made it.

‘And who are you, huh?’ Obadiah’s large hand wrapped around Peter’s small one as he stood from behind the couch. He cried out in shock and tried to fall back and away from the grip, but it tightened immediately and pulled him closer, so he was on the couch next to his Dad and kneeling with his chest pressed against the back of the couch. ‘What’s you name hm?’ Peter looked terrified, his eyes darted all around the space, first on the hand keeping him in place, then to his Dad for comfort, then back to Obadiah.

‘I – I don’t – what did you do to him?’ Peter stuttered, unsure of what to do, trapped like a fly in a spider’s web.

‘Do to who?’ Obadiah grinned evilly, and the boy gulped in fear.

‘T – to my D – Da… Tony! Do t – to Tony!’ He stammered, and Tony’s heart filled with pride when Peter caught himself. He knew to never tell anyone who he was, as far as anyone but himself, Pepper and Happy were concerned, he was Peter Parker.

‘To Dad?’ His grin widened.

‘I – I… he isn’t moving – what did you do? You hurt him!’ His eyes flashed back to Tony and his free arm reached across his body and his fingers made a grabbing motion, wanting to be held, or to hold onto his Dad. He yelped helplessly as Obadiah pulled him closer and gripped the collar of his shirt, shaking him roughly until both of Peter’s hands gripped onto his, trying desperately to steady himself.

‘I took Daddy’s arc reactor you Stark shit.’ Peter made a choked off sound, like a sob and then Obadiah was shoving him forcefully backward and he was falling from the couch entirely while Tony watched, unable to yell or do anything to help. Everything was burning with the effort to move and he couldn’t, he couldn’t watch this, he couldn’t be stuck on the couch and watch the man he trusted hurt his son.

‘No! You can’t take that – he needs it!’ Obadiah rounded the couch and pulled Peter away from it by his hair, until they were further away from Tony. His small legs dragged and kicked across the floor uselessly, trying to get enough traction to take the weight off his curls which were being yanked on brutally.

‘That’s the point! He needs it, I want it, he should be dead. Connect the dots if you’re smart enough too.’ Peter’s lips trembled, and he turned to look back at his Dad, to check on him, for help, Tony didn’t know.

‘You had something to do with Afghanistan…’ Obadiah looked impressed for a moment, lips curling upwards.

‘You take after your Dad, don’t you? Maybe one day you can be the golden goose of the family.’ He shot a knowing look at Tony and his smirk grew.

‘I really do take after him.’ Peter said boldly, bringing the man’s attention back to him and away from his Dad, who was paling more and more. When the man’s eyes were back on him he made his move from the floor. He kicked out suddenly, his foot colliding just below Obadiah’s knee and sending him crashing to the floor loudly. ‘Dad!’ He screamed as he scrambled to his feet and rushed over to him. He laid his shaky hands over Tony’s chest, stopping when he saw the hole where his arc reactor should have been.

‘You little brat!’ Peter looked behind him to where the man was getting to his feet again. He shot a frantic look at Tony and grabbed Obadiah’s box from next to him on the couch. He fumbled with it, barely managing to open it when the man wrapped his arms around his waist from behind and lifted him in the air. ‘Get away from that you shit!’ He didn’t even appear to struggle with Peter, who was shoving his elbows and feet back into him in a last-ditch attempt to get free and save his Dad. ‘Fucking Starks’ Obadiah panted before hurling a still kicking and fighting Peter to the side, sending him down and rolling across the floor.

‘Dad!’ His arms reached out in the air, but he was frozen, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t catch Peter as he fell. He tumbled and for a brief moment Tony had thought he would merely stop rolling and get up again, but of course not. Because life wasn’t fair, he had to watch, paralysed on the couch, as his sweet, innocent baby was thrown to the floor only to come to a stop when the back of his head collided with the concrete slab by the fireplace. He whimpered quietly and crumpled to the ground, a smear of blood left against the wall.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to run to his kid and make all his pain go away, he wanted to fucking hurt Obadiah like he hurt Peter.

‘Too bad you had to involve the kid in this. I would have preferred that he lived.’ He brushed the shoulders of his suit as if to wipe away imaginary dust, and with that, he checked over his box and carried everything out of the room with him. When he was sure Obadiah was gone he swivelled his eyes towards Peter’s form, not even caring about himself for the moment, just focused solely on the blood and the limp body that was his child, who he was supposed to protect. He tried to scream, he did, but the only noise that he made was a pained grunt.

There was nothing for a short beat, and the thought that Peter could actually be dead crossed his mind, and he refused to cry, he didn’t let his burning eyes spill any tears because before they could his son moved. His fingers twitched slowly, and gradually he had managed to push his arm underneath him. The boy groaned loudly and clutched the back of his head for a moment before he seemingly remembered everything.

‘Dad!’ He snapped up into a sitting position, his eyes hazy and unfocused but darting up to meet Tony’s and he was standing, wobbling on his feet and gripping the wall for support before moving towards him. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh Dad, what – the reactor… oh no, uh, uh, maybe I can… No!’ He crawled over the couch to his Dad and pressed his hands onto his shoulders and looked up at him with teary eyes. ‘What do I do… You – you needed the reactor and I – I lost it… Dad I don’t – I…’ He looked down, swiping furiously at his eyes before taking deep breaths.

His son was so strong.

‘I could… I don’t know, uh… the workshop might have something I can build but… oh my god! Dad! The – the old reactor, Pepper framed it! She got it as a gift!’

His child was a genius.

‘Dad, can you blink?’ He blinked for him. ‘Oh, thank god, okay, okay. Where did you put the old one? Is it still in the workshop? One blink yes, two for no.’ He stared, waiting. Tony closed his eyes once. ‘I need to get it! I can get it so you – you’re gonna be okay… I’m getting it!’ He jumped off the couch, swaying for a second and touching the back of his head gingerly before racing to the elevator. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay!’ He yelled all the way down and when he finally wrapped his hands around the case he threw it to the ground, avoiding the worst of the pieces of shattered glass and picked it back up before racing back up to his Dad. He was even more pale than before Peter had left, but his index finger was twitching when he wanted it to move.

‘I have it! Dad – your finger, it’s moving… Okay, we need to use that while I put this in.’ He looked nervous, and Tony saw the blood that coated a small section of his hair. He groaned slightly, and it looked like it scared Peter even more. ‘Okay, okay yeah I can do this… can you tap me?’ He picked up Tony’s hand and put it on his knee carefully, he tapped, and Peter smiled brightly. ‘Tap me if I’m doing something wrong, one blink for yes, two for no?’ Tony tapped his finger, blinked once, then twice, and Peter smiled even wider. ‘Okay, have I lined it up properly?’ He blinked once, yes. ‘Do I just push it in?’ He blinked twice. ‘No? Oh right – uh, the cords, right?’ Yes. ‘I’ll do them now – tap if I mess up’ he blinked once in a go ahead and Peter obliged quickly. The cords were a bit difficult, because he couldn’t really see where they needed to go with his hand in the way, and he tried really hard not to touch the sides or push too hard, but his eyes kept darting back to Tony’s worriedly and he would blink once in affirmation.

‘Okay, I did the cords, do I – do I push it in now?’ Tony blinked. ‘Is there a certain way it has to line up or does it just go in?’ Tony blinked twice. ‘Just like this?’ Yes. Peter slotted it into place carefully. ‘Did I do it – is it working?’ He blinked once, and Peter blew out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. ‘Can I do anything else? Is there anything to stop the paralysis?’ Two blinks. He paused and his eyes were shiny with tears as he spoke meekly, ‘c – can I rest my head o – on your shoulder please?’ His voice was shaky, and Tony wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms. One blink and Peter sunk into his chest, wrapping his arms around his neck and crawling into his lap. He splayed his legs out and pushed his nose into the space between Tony’s neck and chin like always.

‘That was… I didn’t like that – he – I thought you were gonna… you looked hurt, he hurt you.’ Tony felt wetness below his chin and he realised Peter was crying. He pulled himself closer to his Dad and sniffled quietly. ‘He was mean’ he laughed dryly through his tears and somehow, Tony found the strength to blow out and it rustled Peter’s hair, making him squeeze closer.

He didn’t know how long they both sat like that for, but the entire time he was working his body and trying to move, to make a sound, to do anything. At first, he couldn’t do anything more than tap a few fingers, blink or blow air, but eventually he could make small noises, then clench his fist, then shake his leg, then move his head. He was able to say a few words at once and at one point he used all his energy to wrap his arms over Peter’s back.

‘Pe – ete?’

‘Dad.’ He looked up through his lashes and smiled hopefully.

‘Did good’ he forced his face into a smile and dropped his head down to press his somewhat functional lips against the boy’s curls. He was so proud of his kid.

After the fight, when he had regained everything, he curled up with Peter in his room and told him how amazing he was. ‘You saved my life, you did so well. What did I do to deserve someone like you, huh kid?’ He pulled the boy closer and tucked his head into his chest. ‘You are so strong, and so, so brave baby, you know that?’

‘Dad, I – I was so scared. I was terrified… I thought he was going to kill you and I was just… I wasn’t able to fight him or get the reactor back and I just –’

‘Pete, hey, listen to me a sec’ he pushed his chin up to meet his gaze with two fingers, running them along his jawline. ‘You were scared, and that’s normal, but you still fought, you still kicked and struggled and woke up even after you got a nasty cut on your head.’

‘Yeah I know, but I didn’t –’

‘Hold on, let me finish. You were terrified, rightfully so, but you still fought, and that is exactly what makes you brave. That’s what makes you strong, not how successful you were in winning a fight with someone twice your size, which you did actually really well, he would have had to get his knee checked out.’ Peter laughed, and the hum felt good against Tony’s chest, because his kid was okay, his kid was happy. ‘You had reason to be scared, hell, I was terrified. Before you came in all I could think was that he would hurt you or – or worse, and I’d just be stuck on the couch, watching.’ He instinctively hugged tighter and Peter did the same.

‘I love you Dad.’

‘I love you too baby, thanks for saving my life.’

‘Anytime’ he joked, and it was Tony’s turn to laugh.

----

He wished it had happened like that this time. He wished that he could have saved Peter that quickly, and he wished he was the one who sustained the worst injuries, because even if Peter had a healing factor now, he in no way deserved that pain.

He sat on the bed, curled around his son protectively, avoiding as many tubes and wires and bandages as he could, which was impossible because almost all of his son was wrapped in gauze and tape and other medical things. They made him look even smaller than he already was, and the outlines of every one of his ribs were visible, his wrists look like they would snap if the wind blew too hard, and his cheekbones and eyes were so sharp and accentuated that he looked like someone had over carved a marble statue of himself.

“Oh, baby I’m so sorry…” He brushed hair away from the boy’s face and assessed the visible wounds, his black eyes weren’t as swollen as before, but looked darker under the lights in the med bay. His hand was limp and cold when he held it, but he pressed a kiss to his knuckles and rubbed some warmth into them. His face was devoid of any expression, and although it not being scrunched in pain was an improvement, it wasn’t covered by the lopsided smile that so often graced it.

“Tony” he looked behind him instantly, wrapping himself around the unconscious teen on pure instinct, feeling threatened by the unannounced voice. “Tones, it’s just me,” he looked to see Rhodey and he managed an unconvincing smile that didn’t impact his eyes. “It’s been thirteen hours since he got out of surgery, he isn’t expected to wake up for another day or so. You need to shower, eat something, have a glass of water, change your clothes – that one’s important. Peter can’t wake up and see you in bloody clothes Tony, that’s not fair.”

“I – I can’t just leave him here…” Rhodey sighed, but he was clearly expecting the argument, because he had a compromise prepared already.

“Fine, shower next door when I’ve brought you down some fresh clothes, I’ll stay with Peter and when you get back I’ll have Steve make something for everyone to eat, okay?” He nodded slowly and turned back to Peter, running a careful finger over his cheek lightly.

“He’s so… the man who did this – Ryan – he really, god, he – he fucking enjoyed it Rhodes. I saw him, I heard what he said while I was kicking the crap out of him.” He didn’t look his friend in the eye but heard him as he sat in the chair beside the bed.

“I’m here to listen Tony, and you should know it isn’t your fault in any way. Yeah, the guy is really messed up, but you do need to talk about it to someone at some point. It’s a traumatic experience that you aren’t going through alone.” He blinked, snuggling closer to Peter and rolling to face the chair.

“When I was screaming at him and hitting him during the fight, he was smiling. He said – he said he liked the way… the way Peter screamed ‘so pretty’ he called it. I felt sick, and I lost control, I smashed his nose and it felt good… But I was so caught up I didn’t even realise that Peter was still… He was still strapped to the table, crying through a fucking gag and asking for me – and – and I just…” He choked on a sob and paused to press his forehead against Peter’s, cupping both his cheeks in his hands softly. He pulled away and turned back to Rhodey, still keeping one arm wrapped around the teen and one hand holding his. “I just can’t deal with the fact that I was actually that close to… losing him. They were one experiment away from – from killing him, and if they had… if they had killed him, there would have been nothing I could have done.” Rhodey looked at him sympathetically, he leaned forward and placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, silently encouraging him to say the main thing he was thinking.

“If Peter died, he would have died alone, in pain, and possibly not knowing how much he fucking means to me… they would have killed him and all he would have been able to do was say a goodbye to a video camera and hope that I would see it. I – I’m all the family he has, and I let him down… if he died, it would have been blood on my hands.”

“That isn’t true.” Rhodey shifted in the chair so he was fully facing Tony before speaking again. “That isn’t true because you did save him, you were in time, you got the guy who did this to him, you’ve been by his side since you found him, and you so obviously adore the kid that I am positive he knows, more than the rest of us, how much he means to you.

“I just… he means everything to me – he is everything to me, this kid is my whole world and I can’t – I can’t deal knowing what happened to him… what if he’s hurt emotionally too badly, what if he’s never the same Peter I knew… what if he has serious brain damage Rhodey? How the hell am I supposed to live with myself knowing he’s ruined because I couldn’t get to him in time?”

“You’re not the same Tony as before Afghanistan” he tensed at the mention. “No offense Tones, but you were better after that, when you made Iron Man? The wormhole? Civil War? You’ve grown so much and sure, the memories hurt, they’re hard to deal with, but you’re a hero now, and not just to the media and little kids, but to the person that matters most, your child. He believes you’re a hero, so why can’t it be the exact same for him? Why can’t he walk away from this with bad memories, but grow into such a better person from it?” He gaped, he tugged Peter’s limp body closer to himself, so he was completely tucked onto his lap. “I doubt he has brain damage, but Cho and the other doctors said when he wakes up they’re running a test to make sure.”

“Jesus Rhodes… I – no… that isn’t fair.” He tilted his head in question and Tony answered hesitantly. “I needed Afghanistan to push me away from the weapons business, I got dunked in water a few times and yelled at before I escaped and look how many nightmares I still have? Remember right after New York, all the anxiety attacks I had? What Peter had already gone through before this was too much, and I had to regularly rock him back to sleep from nightmares… what’s it going to be like now? You saw the videos and the photos and everything, they practically pulled him apart and shoved him back together again… they tortured him worse than anything I know, they emotionally manipulated him and told him he was a freak and nobody would ever love him enough to save him – this isn’t the same level, this is – this… what he went through is going to haunt him for the rest of his life, and that’s not even the beginning of it.”

“No matter how bad he is for the time before he starts to recover, this kid has the Avengers on his side and possibly the most caring Father. He’s gonna be alright.”

“But will I be?” He looked down at the tiny hand he clutched in his own and a small tear fell to the bed.

“Tony, I will make sure you and Peter get through this. I don’t care how hard it is, you will be okay.”

“I should shower before he wakes up…” He combs his fingers through Peter’s hair and begins to move slowly, sliding out from underneath him and readjusting how he laid on the bed. He pressed a kiss to his forehead and murmured a promise to be right back. “Thank you, seriously… I wish I had told you about Peter when I told Pepper and Happy.”

“Yeah man, Iron Patriot is great with babies, I’m offended.” He smiled as Tony walked out of the door backwards.

“That was a terrible name, War Machine is better, and you know it.” He returned his friends smile and hurried to the shower, clutching a pile of clothes to his chest and thinking of Peter.

----

It was the list that got him. He had showered, dressed, eaten and had half a bottle of water, mostly just to please Rhodey and Steve who were still on his back about being healthy for Peter’s sake. He was back on the bed, admittedly feeling slightly better, when Helen walked in with her clipboard.

“This is all the information on Peter and his condition. Everything on that is either very likely what happened, or definitely what happened. Until he wakes up we can’t know for sure, and we won’t force him to talk about it either. You can look, or you can leave it by the bed, some of the things we guessed are quite… unpleasant, so if you want to read it you need to be sure you can handle it. Knowing what may or may not trigger or upset him when he wakes could be quite a good thing, but only if you think you can deal with it, okay?” He nodded and thanked her.

“Thank you, honestly, for – for everything. I was wondering though, uh, if there was anything you could tell me about if he could have any sort of long-lasting physical issues or brain – brain damage?”

“At the moment, I don’t know enough about his healing factor to say whether he’s going to have scars or not, but I can say that during the surgery we didn’t find any indicators of serious brain damage, but we still need to confirm that with tests once he wakes up.” She sounded optimistic, and that was enough for Tony.

“What would brain damage l – look like?” She pondered for a moment before replying.

“Well it ranges from very minor things like a stutter or temporary memory loss, sometimes even as little as a headache and drowsiness. It can also be the complete opposite, although that is very unlikely in this case because we would normally notice red flags by now.”

“What does the serious side look like?”

“Loss of motor functions, multiple forms of amnesia, coma, complete alter in behaviour and personality, social and emotional issues, loss of senses, seizures, an inability to use speech and language skills and cognitive deficits. When there are serious lasting effects it can be extremely hard on the patient and their family Tony, but I seriously doubt Peter is going to suffer from any of that. He could develop some issues because of the emotional trauma of his injuries, but with a supporting environment I’m sure he’ll be okay in the long-run.”

“Th – thanks Cho.” She smiled sadly and left him alone with the clipboard and Peter. He sighed and ran a gentle hand over his son’s fingers.

“I’m gonna make sure you’re okay baby.” He moved the clipboard to the chair and laid down more, resting his cheek on Peter’s head and closing his eyes. He fell into a light sleep only because his son was finally in his arms and home again.

When he woke up he was disheartened. Peter’s nose and brows were crumpled in a pained expression and his lips were slightly parted. He pressed the call button and Helen was in the room with him after barely two minutes.

“He’s in pain… he wasn’t before, is something going wrong?” Helen looked slightly nervous when she entered the room, but when she saw the problem her face regained its composure easily and she smiled sweetly, picking something up from one of the draws.

“He may be in some more pain then before but that’s perfectly normal, it just means he’s burnt through most of the pain meds. It could even indicate his healing ability is kicking in, but I can’t say that for sure. It is a good thing, patients who fall into coma’s or are already in them don’t react in any way to pain when the medication wears off, so this just means he won’t become comatose.”

“I didn’t even know there was a possibility that he might go into a coma…” He watched as more fluids were injected into Peter’s IV and he waited to see if his face would soften.

“There’s always a chance that patients with extensive injuries may be administered a medically induced coma or their bodies fall into one in order to recover.” She wrote something down on his file, probably about the medicine dose she just gave him, before looking to Tony again. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

“How long until you think he wakes up again?”

“I thought a day or two and it’s already been –” she glanced at her watch, “twenty-eight hours since he was out of surgery.”

“So soon then?”

“I would think so, yes.” There was a beat in the conversation, he assumed she was waiting to see if he needed anything else, which he didn’t, so she smiled again, assured him Peter would be okay, and left again.

“Please wake up soon kiddo, I miss those eyes and that smile. I’m going to make sure I see those again baby.” He pressed a kiss to his temple and relaxed beside the boy again, determined to stay next to him until he woke up.

It took just over eight more hours, so thirty-six in total, before anything changed. One minute he was fine, his face had softened just after Helen had left, and the next his finger twitched where Tony was holding it. “Pete?” No words, but his brows furrowed slightly at the voice. Tony propped himself up and faced the boy fully, eagerly watching for something more.

----

‘Wake up Spider.’ He let his chest rise and fall unsteadily again, breathing as shallow as humanly possible to ease the pain on his broken ribs. ‘C’mon Petey, let me see those tears huh?’ He couldn’t help but sniffle at the voice, he thought he was home, he thought this was over, he had said he couldn’t do it anymore… where was his Dad? ‘You’re just not opening your eyes now, it’s obvious when you’re awake.’ Ryan sounded angrier now, maybe he should just open his eyes and face him when he was this mad, rather than wait until he flew off the handle and did something worse. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, no matter how afraid of the consequences he knew there would be, the idea of opening his eyes and seeing for real that he was back there, was terrifying to him. ‘Peter!’ He whimpered when the fist slammed down next to his ear, barely missing his shoulder. ‘Last warning kid – open your eyes or you’ll regret it.’ He tried to open his eyes, he did, he really tried to force them open, but they just wouldn’t. It was like he was trapped in a dream where he had to run but his legs wouldn’t move, or they did just too slowly. That’s what his eyes were doing, they felt too tight to open, and maybe they were, maybe he just had so little strength that opening his eyes was an impossible task for the teen who used to catch cars going eighty.

‘That’s fucking it,’ Ryan said in a low voice. ‘Do it!’ He tensed, waiting for something to happen, and when it did, he was unprepared. Simultaneously, his eyes, mouth and wounds were all opened. Someone shone flashing lights, like a portable version of the ones in his cell, directly into his eyes, and now they felt like they wouldn’t close. The doctors were shoving football length pieces of tube down his throat and he couldn’t breathe at all, his nose was filled with water and he was drowning again. His injuries were all torn apart at once, everything that had just closed up or scabbed over were scraped open again, and it burned all over, white hot pain, it felt like someone had peeled all the skin off his body and he was just a small child made of bleeding muscle, chained to the same table as Ryan stroked at his face and petted his hair as doctors shoved things down his throat and guards pulled his joints apart.

He screamed, he wailed, he begged, pleaded, bargained, cried, whimpered, screamed more, passed out, smacked his head against the metal beneath him, but nothing would stop the pain. It followed him like a bad smell and a haunting memory, it wouldn’t go away, it didn’t cease for one second and he would do anything, anything in the entire world to just not feel any of it anymore. He wanted his Dad, he needed his Dad to save him, but he knew it had all been a dream, a delusion and a very realistic one too. Maybe he had finally snapped into a million fragments and just didn’t know yet, maybe he was crazy now, because they took him apart and stitched him together, so they could do it all again in another way. If he could just see his Dad once more, just one more time so he could say how sorry he was and how much he missed him, as long as he could say those three words he hadn’t on the morning they took him… as long as he could just do that, maybe, maybe he would be okay. Maybe he could let go and just lie there and take whatever surgery and torture method the men wanted him to suffer through. Maybe if his Dad understood how hard he had tried to hold out for him, how hard he had tried to fight, maybe his Dad could forgive him for not making it back home.

‘Maybe… maybe your Dad never wanted you to come home. Maybe he’s relieved you’re here and you’re being properly dealt with and picked apart. Maybe everyone is happier you’re with me now Peter. Ever think of that Pete? Petey, Spider…’

‘No.’

His Dad loved him.

That was the only thing he was sure of.

He was Tony Stark’s son, and he was loved.

‘Shhhh, no you don’t get to sleep, you know why?’ He tried to press his lips closed but the tubes were still there, and his eyes wouldn’t shut, and everything was too much, his senses were being assaulted and he was burning all over from the pain and he wanted his Dad so badly it hurt almost as much as everything else did.

A different pain spread across his cheek, it was sharper, more concise like a frozen slap rather than an all-over fiery ache. ‘That was a direct question and you know that you answer those’ Ryan warned, too loudly for Peter’s senses.

‘I – I – I don’ – don’ know why…’

‘You’re ignorant. You aren’t allowed to sleep because you don’t deserve the rest. You freak mutants don’t need rest, you need experimentation… you deserve hell for what you are – disgusting abominations.’

‘No… we – we’re hero’s, we u – use our powers to help…’

‘No, you don’t, do you know how many people have died because of people like you? You don’t understand that you don’t have to be a freak to save people, over half of the Avengers are just intelligent, trained, normal people.’

‘Pl – please… I – I jus’ wanna help people… I jus’ wanna save – save and pro’ec’…’

‘You’re so weak you can’t even speak properly – you are nothing but a kid who became a freak, you’ve always been pathetic, you’ve always been weak, you will always be a sixteen-year-old kid that Daddy didn’t save in time.’

‘Daddy?’

‘Yeah… he was too late for you – you’re already gone just like the others.’

Everything was flying, everything was lifting up, but he was sinking like a stone, just like the arc reactor when his Dad threw it into the sea, just like his Dad falling from the hole in the sky…

‘No! No, please, no! Ryan no! Dad! Help save me! Don’t be too late, I’m dying – I’m dying! Save me! Anyone please, please! Help? Somebody? Daddy…’

It was pressing down on him. He was being crushed again. This felt just like the tubes down his throat except they were concrete and so much bigger. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t be saved.

‘Hello? Hello! Please, hey! Hey, please! I’m – I’m – I’m down here! I’m down here, I’m stuck. I’m stuck, I can’t move! – I can’t… Dad? Dad? Hello? Where are you?’

‘Peter? Peter!’

‘Dad!’

‘The reactor, please! I can’t move, you have to wake up! Peter! Wake up and save me! Peter? Pete?’

‘I’m stuck! I don’t know how to – please Dad help me! Help me breathe and I can get the reactor!’

Silence.

‘Dad? Dad!’

‘Too late Peter… too slow to save your Dad. And you still expect him to save you… Pathetic.’

‘Ryan! Please, please! No… no…’

----

“Peter?” His face crumpled, and he could see the tears in Peter’s eyes, but he couldn’t stop them as they fell. His lips murmured, and he whimpered in his sleep, his fingers twitched and his chest was hitching and the heart rate monitor was beeping too much and he could hear people running but all he could see was his son, so small in the double bed, covered in tubes and wires and crying, muttering and screaming while asleep… screaming for him… begging with Ryan and saying goodbye.

“Peter wake up! I’m here, I’m here! Wake up please – please Dad’s here, I’m here baby…. Pleasepleaseplease open your eyes Petey.” The doctors rushed in and saw the boy, it was what they expected when the screams had started and echoed throughout the entire level of the tower, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch a child have a panic attack within his own nightmare.

“Mr. Stark you need to step outside for a moment, so we can deal with Peter –”

“No! Please, just wake him up and he’ll be okay… I’m here, once he sees me he’ll be okay – no! No get off me – stop! Peter! Peter I’m here!”

“Tony, Tony it’s me, it’s Steve. Please just take a breath, you’re working yourself up, it’s just a nightmare and they’re giving him some sedatives now.”

“What? No, no sedatives!”

“Tony, they have to calm him down enough to treat the wounds he’s already re-opened.”

“Move!” He squirmed past the man, banging his arm on the door was the least of his worries as he ran back into the room. “Peter!”

“Someone get him out of here!”

“Wait I can – I can calm him down I swear, just let me hold him! Let me hold my son! I do it whenever he has nightmares, please it’ll calm him down!”

“Tony, the doctors need –”

He lunged at the bed and crawled into Peter’s side, ignoring the cries of annoyance from the doctors in favour of comforting his thrashing child. Tears had soaked his bandages and blankets and he was hyperventilating to the point of blue lips and it was a bad nightmare. It was worse than any nightmare he had ever experienced, but he knew his baby, and he knew how to stop it.

“Peter, I’m here, shhh, shhh, baby it’s okay… it’s okay because you’re safe, you’re safe now.” He ran his hands over the boy’s elbows and slid them up to his shoulders, steadying his flailing arms that were trying to block blows that weren’t even there. He considered straddling the teen to stop him from kicking out, but it felt too forceful, and he needed to be gentle with him. Instead, he shuffled until he was sitting next to him at the top of the bed, and he pulled him down horizontally, so his head laid in his lap and the rest of their bodies were either entwined or sprawled across the mattress.

His arms slowed down and he was trying to cover his face with them as if someone were hitting him, but Tony didn’t let him, he just calmly tucked the boy’s hands into his lap and began to run his fingers through his curls soothingly, scratching his scalp and running his nails over the nape of his neck until he stilled completely, which was almost ten minutes later. “Shhh, good boy baby, you’re doing amazing, just focus on breathing, you’re not there, it’s not real – I’m the real thing and you can wake up when you need to, it’s all going to be okay now. Peter sniffed and raised his hands up, mimicking the movement of a baby reaching for its mobile, rather than a tortured teen reaching for his Dad. He moved the fingers out of his head and guided Peter’s hands around his own neck and leant forward, so he could lace his fingers together. “You hold on to me Peter and it’s all going to be okay,” he brought his hand back into his hair and swirled a tuft of tighter curls around his finger. Peter whimpered and pushed his head up and further into Tony’s lap, rolling over and nuzzling his face into his hipbone and mewling softly as his hair was untangled with the utmost care. “I know baby, it’s okay now – I’m here, I won’t go anywhere until you want me to, everything is up to you okay Petey, you don’t have to wake up yet if you don’t want to… just know I miss you baby.” Peter stilled, and his fingers tensed against Tony’s neck. He leaned back slightly to look at the boy’s face, which was red from the crying, pale from the shock and a range of colours from green to blue to purple and black from the bruising. His eyes were fluttering open slowly. He was finally waking up.

“D – Da – Daddy?”

“Hi baby” he choked back a sob as Peter tipped forwards. “Hey, be careful Pete –”

“Dad!” He dropped his weight and fell into Tony’s arms, his own fingers scrabbling at his Father’s back and burying his face in his shirt, trying to bury his tears with it. “Dad, Dad, D – Daddy” he sobbed and wrapped himself around the man and clung to him like he would disappear if he didn’t.

“Mr. Stark, we need to do something about the re-opened wounds” one of the doctors stepped forward and Peter screamed.

He screamed.

“No! No please! Please, Daddy no, no, no… I’m sorry – I – I’m sorry, please, please I – I don’t, please not again! I – I can’t, I’m sorry. I w – I won’t do it again, please, please! No more, no more doctors, please, I’ll behave… I’m sorry, m’ sorry, m’ so sorry…”

‘Sorry doesn’t cut it…’ He was back on that rooftop.

“No… please – please you have to un – understand! I am… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Dad. Please, just – just please don’t let them… don’t let the doctors…”

He was slumping in Tony’s grip, he could feel the boy losing himself, waging a war against his own head. He recognised how terrified Peter was, and he understood how waking up disorientated and unsure of where you were was exactly what made bad memories flood back. He knew why his child was scared, and rationally, he knew there was no actual threat, but the sight of a bawling, frightened, apologising Peter was enough to shake him up, to say the least.

“Go, please – he’s scared of you, just wait outside and let me calm him down, I – I know how to do the bandages if he won’t calm.” Helen and the rest of the doctors were extremely hesitant, and Steve looked like seeing Peter upset shook him up almost as much as Tony, but that was probably because he didn’t deal with nightmares and panic attacks as often as the two Stark’s did.

“I think he’s right guys… um, we need to give them space now, Tony knows what he’s doing.” He helped to usher the doctors out and gave Tony one last look of sympathy and concern before pulling the door closed behind him.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay now.” He rubbed circles into Peter’s back soothingly and continued to hush him as he rocked in place slowly, his own tears finally spilling down his cheeks even as the teen’s breaths evened out. “These doctors won’t come near you unless you’re okay with it, I promise. I’m going to stay with you, everything’s okay.” He tipped Peter’s head back slightly, expecting him to be asleep, but he was met with the precious, hazel orbs that he had loved since he first saw them. They were wide, and he was looking around the room every few seconds, always pulling his gaze back to his Dad.

“M’ sorry…” He blinked as a fresh tear rolled down his cheek, but Tony caught it with his thumb and swiped it away softly.

“No, no baby it’s not your fault, none of this is your fault. You don’t have to apologise for anything, and I am not letting anyone hurt you, okay?” The boy listened as his Dad spoke, and he felt safer, until he realised it was a question and he faltered, heart racing as he tried to form a response in time to avoid punishment.

“Y – yes, I know – I know. I understand.” Tony noticed how his heart sped up, the beeping of the machine told him quite obviously.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. That wasn’t – I wasn’t telling you to understand then, I was just talking, you can tell me what’s making you upset.”

“I – you… asked a d – direct question so I had to – I… I don’t know, it’s – it’s just reflex now I think…” This was helping, he tried to remember that this was helping, understanding what Peter had been through was helping him get to know the triggers. Don’t ask direct questions because he thinks he has to answer…

“That’s okay, it’s okay. Just try to remember now that if someone asks you something, you don’t have to answer anymore if you don’t want to. Nobody is going to… punish you if you don’t answer, I won’t let anything like that happen.” Peter reached a quivering finger out and Tony enveloped him in a hug again, letting the boy’s small head rest over his shoulder.

“Th – thank you, for coming for me, a – and saving me… I – I was – it was…” he pulled in a shaky breath and pulled back from the embrace, just enough to look up into his Dad’s face shyly as he forced out the words. “It was the scariest thing, b – because I thought he was going to kill me before I could see you again,” his throat bobbed as he began to sob again. “I thought I was never gonna see you again, he m – made me say goodbye to you a – and I did and then – then he said I only had one more left till he was gonna kill me and I knew you were coming but – but I thought… I thought I was gonna go before you found me – I was gonna die without telling you I loved you – Daddy!” He fell back against Tony’s chest and heaved in breaths, trying to stay calm as the memories of him murmuring his goodbyes in front of a camera filled his head. “I don’t wanna go Dad, I can’t leave you.”

Tony placed his hands over Peter’s cheeks and tilted his face towards his own, until their noses were practically touching.

“Peter, listen very carefully, because I swear on my life. I swear that I would never – never let you die. Nobody is going to lay a finger on you from now onwards, because I am not losing you. I would not ever let someone kill you.” He pressed a kiss to Peter’s hairline and pulled him closer, feeling better when the heart rate monitor slowed down to an almost normal speed.

“I love you” Peter whispered, his trembling hands finding their way back around Tony’s neck as they both leant back against the pillows.

“You have no idea how much I love you back baby.” Peter burrowed snugly into his Dad’s neck and pressed his nose against the pulse point. “Is there too much pain?”

“Not anymore, you’re here now.” Tony smiled and inspected the teen for any more blood.

“Was it just the shock of waking up, or are the doctors too much to deal with right now?”

“I – I think just waking up, but when they walked towards me or wrote on the clipboards it – I think it’s just too similar… maybe the lady with the dark hair is okay?”

“Helen Cho?”

“Y – yeah, I think that’s her name. It’s just, um, the male doctors… a – are too much.”

“Okay, I’ll buzz her in, so she can fix the bandages for you, that’s okay.” He pressed the call button and asked specifically for just Helen, his hold on Peter never wavering. “You know I’m going to stay here the whole time, and as soon as you start to feel any pain or want it to be just us again you can let me know and I’ll make sure of anything for you… you’re safe here.” Peter nodded and pressed his cheek closer to Tony’s chest.

There was a soft knock at the door and Tony triple checked with Peter before inviting Helen in. He was beyond thankful to see that she wasn’t wearing her white coat or nametag. She looked at him carefully and he pulled Peter to his side and motioned for her to come in.

“Hello Peter, I’m Helen. Just going to change the bandages and check your vitals, let me know if you feel any pain.”

“Okay” he said quietly, inching his free hand into Tony’s sleeve so their fingers brushed together. His eyes followed her around the room as she collected various pieces of cloth and gauze. When she was done getting everything she needed, Peter relaxed slightly as he realised there were no actual tools, just pre-cut gauze strips and self-adhesive tape.

“I’m going to start unwrapping your knee now, it’s the only part of this leg that needs redressing.” It wasn’t a question, but Peter nodded and shifted his leg, so it was closer to the side of the bed she was standing on. “Thank you” she praised, giving him a sweet smile which he found difficult to return from where his face was half buried in Tony’s chest.

“Hey, buddy, after you have some clean bandages, you want something to eat and drink?” He didn’t want to worry his Dad after how he had woken up, so he worded his response carefully.

“Um, m’ not feeling that hungry...” He felt Helen unwrapping his knee, but nothing hurt so he figured they had him pretty dosed up on meds. Tony’s face pinched slightly in worry and he looked over Peter again, taking in how much narrower his limbs were, remembering how the brush of his jutting ribs had felt against his own chest as he carried the frail teen to the Quinjet.

“Pete…” He rubbed a finger over his cheek and tried not to think about how angular and scrawny his son’s facial features were now.

“If I may interject Mr. Stark, it’s quite normal for patients to not be hungry after surgery. The anaesthetics wearing off often cause nausea and lack of appetite, so there shouldn’t be much to worry about here.” She didn’t look up from where she was moving onto Peter’s hipbone, but he felt the boy’s chin lift.

“Y – you gave me anaes – anaesthetic?” He looked down at him and concern grew in his gut when he saw the watery look in his eyes.

“Of course we did Pete… what’s the matter?” The teen blinked back up at him and his lashes fluttered as a small tear fell.

“Th – thank you so much” he looked so overtly grateful, and when Tony connected the dots as to why something so simple was making his son so beholden, he felt marginally sicker.

“Oh – oh… uh, yeah, no problem buddy.” He pulled the boy closer against his side and blew out a shaky breath, mouthing ‘later’ at Helen as she looked to him quizzingly. He pressed a kiss into the unruly curls and tried not to think about how Peter must have felt, strapped to a bench and cut into and taken apart without anaesthetics. He refused to let go of the trembling teen when his shoulder was re-wrapped, but he did shuffle to the side to give Cho more access. When she finished and had thrown away the old gauze and double-checked vitals, Tony grew uneasy as he realised she needed to jot down the figures on the clipboard.

“Uh, Pete, can you look at me for a sec please.” He eyed Helen, who was unaware of the issue with writing on a clipboard and watched as she picked up a pen. Peter looked up at him with such trusting eyes and fondness settled in his gut alongside the worry. “How’re you doing, feeling tired?”

“Not really, just… I don’t know – on edge I think.” Luckily, his eyes stayed fixed on Tony as he spoke, and by the time he had pushed the words out Helen was leaving the room.

“That’s – okay, that’s good. I’m really proud of you baby, you’re so brave.” He pulled Peter back into his lap and smiled when the small arms folded around his neck again. “Once you feel better I’m gonna have to get you eating a lot more, you’re – you’ve lost a lot of weight…” His son was never the largest kid, always lanky and packing little muscle and body fat, but when he had gotten his powers he ate like Steve did but never gained anything. He remembered the morning the scrawny kid had woken with a six-pack and stuck to the ceiling like a demon. After that, Peter would use his powers for good and bad, good being sticking to the roof when unexpected guests came around and he needed to hide away while Tony chatted. Bad being occasionally wall-crawling at three in the morning to get a glass of water and inadvertently scaring the shit out of his Dad.

“I – yeah… I ate everything they gave me but… sometimes the pain was too much, and I’d throw up and ha – have to wait two more days for bread. M’ sorry, I don’t wanna make you upset…” He tightened around Tony’s neck and pulled himself closer, nuzzling his nose in further.

“It’s okay, it isn’t you fault, I – wait… did they – did you only eat every two days?” Peter shrugged and sniffled slightly at the memories, when he responded after a pause his whisper was sad and very soft.

“A cup of water each night before the chains and a piece of bread every two days… I – I wanted to ask for more but… I – I was too scared.” He tired not to show when his fists clenched and his teeth grinded together in fury, but he couldn’t stop a tear from falling into Peter’s hair.

“I’m so sorry… I – I…” he sighed and wanted his kid to be even closer, so he wrapped his arms around him and pressed every part of his small form even closer, pressing kisses over his head and caressing his hair as tenderly as he could. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of this, and – and how I wasn’t there for so long, but I – I’m staying with you now and you aren’t ever going to be alone again, I swear.”

“I know – I know you’re gonna protect me… I just – it’s just hard to not think about stuff, an’ I can’t… it’s hard to forget things…” He sniffled again, and Tony scratched his scalp softly, murmuring comforting words into his hair.

“Peter… I know I never really…” he hesitated, wiping his cheek before returning his hand to the curls before him. “I know that I never really spoke about Afghanistan with you, or anyone really… and I probably should have, but I – I think to get through this we – you should talk about it. Not now, but… but when you’re better and it’s not so fresh, I can get you a really good th –”

“I don’ – I don’t want a therapist… I – I just wan’ you…”

“Okay baby, you don’t have to… I just don’t want you to feel like you only have me to talk with.” There was a beat and then he spoke again.

“Dad?” His voice was timid, as if he were hesitant to ask whatever he was thinking. He hummed in response, and Peter felt the vibration of his chest on his cheek. “Did – did you call… did you call the others to help find me?” Tony faltered for a moment, taken aback by the sudden subject change.

“Of course I did Peter, I didn’t care about anything except getting you back, I – I wanted all the help I could and…” He felt like he should talk about how he felt when he saw the footage of him being thrown into the van, or how useless and terrified he was when he ran out of leads, but he was never as open as Peter was. Honestly, he had no idea how the boy had grown up to be so open, sometimes he thought it was an unconscious way of making up for the fact that he was so emotionally shut off.

“Does that mean… do they – do they know about me?” He froze, his fingers stilling in the boy’s hair. The thought that Peter might not want the rest of the Avengers knowing had never really registered to him, he was honestly so caught up in the adrenaline of getting his son back that he didn’t consider the consequences.

“I – Peter I’m sorry, I just – I didn’t think about it, I was – I – I… I just needed you back.” He rested his forehead in Peter’s hair and curled his arms around the small form, squeezing him tighter.

“No! It – I don’t mind, I’ve – I’ve always kind of… wanted to meet them and know them as Peter Stark, but, I mean… the rule made sense so I never really, uh, said anything about it?”

The rule. The number one rule that Peter had to actually listen to. Don’t tell anyone that he was Tony Stark’s son. Jesus Christ that rule meant everything to him because he had an exact idea of how much danger he would be in if anyone knew about his blood relation. Pepper and Happy were the only people who knew, and that was only because they had been in his life for so long. He considered telling Rhodey for a while, but the involvement he had in the army made Tony uneasy, if he went rogue or accidentally let it slip, it would be too easy for him to access weapons. There was one incident, a very long time ago, when Peter was all of three or four, at a press event that he wasn’t even supposed to attend. He had very reluctantly let him come along under the guise of Happy’s nephew, but that was a one-off because Pepper had been out of town and there was nobody else he trusted to take care of the child for the night. He himself would have been in his early thirties at the time, and he regretted letting Peter come that night ever since, it was too close of a call and it was the most fear he had for his son up until Peter was taken almost three weeks ago. Making the horrible decision to fly into the hole above New York and risking the possibility of never making it out again was up there, because he could never leave Peter alone, but it was either that, or let the missile hit the city and hope that his child was out of the blast zone. Still, the memory of that event made him so much stricter on the rule, because aside from the unwanted media attention Peter would get, there was also the possibility of people using him as leverage or bargaining material against Tony, just like Obadiah had.

----

‘Okay baby, one more time for me, huh? What’s your name?’ Peter giggled from where he was perched on Tony’s knees.

‘Parker!’ He shrieked, another fit of giggles erupting from his tiny form.

‘Good job, Peter Parker, don’t forget that alright? Okay, who’s your babysitter for the night?’ He pointed a finger at Happy, who poorly supressed a fond smile from the front seat of the limo. ‘There ya go kid!’ He picked the toddler up and hugged him tightly, kissing the curls that topped his small head. ‘One more for me kiddo, what do you say if anyone asks about how you know me?’

‘You’re Happy’s boss?’

‘Exactly, good boy Petey’ He snuggled the child closer and tried to push away the worry in his gut that had been growing ever since he realised his only option was to bring him along to the event.

‘I’ll keep him with me the whole night boss, don’t worry too much. I’ll even stay where you can see me as much as possible if that helps.’ Happy was smart enough to understand how protective he was of Peter, and he was glad he had someone else willing to look out for him. ‘We ready to head in?’

‘Yeah’ he swallowed and pressed one more kiss to the boy’s head before handing him to Happy and stepping out of the car. It was going to be harder for the man to juggle things tonight, because now he had to keep an eye out for Tony and the one thing he valued most, his kid. ‘Remind me to give you a bigger bonus this year Hap.’

‘Sure thing’ he said as he set Peter down gently and kept up with the child as he bounded on ahead, only looking back to check on his employer once or twice.

Tony did the regular thing, flashed a smile here and there, made small talk, signed some mediocre product ideas from fans, all while keeping a close eye on where Peter was from under his tinted glasses. Happy was definitely smart, keeping the child on the outskirts of the event and avoiding the paparazzi photo’s. His unease slowly filtered away as he noticed the glee in Peter’s wide eyes at all the stacks of scientific research and the towers of wine glasses. At one point he even saw the kid tug at Happy’s sleeve and say something like: ‘Mr. Happy look! That’s a picture of Doctor Banner, that’s so cool!’ His face was flushed with excitement and the rosy tint to his cheeks had spread over his small nose and forehead, there was an exited bounce in his steps and he almost felt glad that Peter was getting to experience something like this. Maybe, if the rest of the night went well he would bring the boy to the Christmas party, which was actually at the house and he got to choose who came.

‘Hey, when I get called up to speak do you mind taking him outside, just while the room’s less busy, so people don’t notice him too much?’

‘Uh, yeah sure, I think the kid wanted to hear you talk though.’ He smiled and bent down to talk to Peter who was babbling on about the pictures of Banner’s work he saw because he couldn’t ‘understand everything in his books yet.’

‘Hey buddy, is it true you wanted to hear me talk tonight?’ He nodded eagerly and bounced on his heels, resisting the urge to jump into Tony’s arms while people could be watching. ‘Okay, how about we make a deal then, if you’re good for Happy and play outside just while I do my speech, then I promise to read it for you in the car ride home. That sound fair?’

‘Yeah, okay. Can I come inside after and look at the displays?’ There were glass display cases that lined the back wall, and they were filled with miniature, plastic models of some of the weapons and Stark tech designs that weren’t released yet.

‘Sure’ he ruffled Peter’s hair and stood again, patting Happy on the shoulder. ‘Thanks, for keeping an eye on him tonight.’ He waltzed back to where the reporters were clustered and wound between some tables, drawing a few more eyes as he shook some more hands and answered questions.

‘What’s your statement on the possible release date of the newest Stark Pad model?’ Many questions flooded in about his work, or about competitors newest products compared to his own, rarely a few would drift in about what he thought about current media stories or scandals. Then, almost five minutes into the newest round of interviewers he had agreed to answer, a man from the back of the crowd yelled a question which had everyone leaning in eagerly to hear his answer and made his own heart stutter.

‘Mister Stark, who’s the young boy you were seen in the limousine with?’ He faltered, not expecting any questions about Peter in the slightest, but he recovered quick enough that he didn’t think anyone had noticed.

‘That’s my bodyguard’s nephew.’ He answered calmly, hoping the subject would change quickly so the attention would shift.

‘What’s his name?’ He licked his lip and clutched his glass tighter.

‘Why do you care?’ Someone moved a recorder closer to his face and he suddenly felt how dense the crowd was. He hoped they would move on and ask some other questions sooner rather than later, because the uneasy feeling was coming back.

‘Does he stay with you often, or do you not see him regularly?’ A different reporter asked this time, and he was beginning to feel more and more like they were all vulture’s, picking apart every aspect of his personal life just like the media. He needed to get the attention very far away from Peter or he was going to snap at them all and end up featured on the font page of the ‘hottest celeb stories of the week.’

‘Let’s just say the kid enjoys the latest Stark Pad update.’ He gave them a trademark smile and silently prayed they would take the bait.

‘Speaking of the latest update, would you comment on how much time you spend on weapons development compared to technological advances?’ He let out a breath and delved into the newest subject happily, glad that he diffused the worry in his gut. Only ten minutes later and he was being called to the stage for his ‘wise words’ as they were called, and he relaxed marginally as he saw Happy guiding Peter outside. He would prefer the attention all on him and not being able to have eyes on the boy, then being able to see him but having the possibility of reporters flocking the shy child.

‘Hey Pete, stay where I can see you,’ Happy called from behind. He slowed to a trot as he looked out at the city lights. The view was partially blocked by a clustering of trees but even from here Peter could tell that it was amazing to look at. He liked to count the different lights, yellow, orange, blue, red, they all shimmered and reflected in his widening eyes as he smiled gleefully. The view of the ocean that their house gave was breath-taking, but he didn’t see the city as often as many people would think, so when he did get the chance to see it’s lights, even from afar, it always stunned him into silence.

Happy was watching the kid, thirty or so paces behind him and only several strides away from the back entry to the event. He heard shoes clicking behind him, and he turned to see a female reporter with dark hair pinned back into a tight bun only a few steps from him.

‘Hello, Mister Hogan I presume?’

‘Uh, yeah that’s me. Can I help you?’ He stepped around her, so his back was to the doors and his front was facing so he could see Peter, who was still happily trotting along, staring at the skyline.

‘I hope so, may I ask you a few questions about working with Tony Stark?’ He hesitated, he wanted to watch the kid, but he didn’t want the interviewer’s attention on him.

‘It will only take a few minutes.’ He figured that with his eyes still on the boy and the reporters promise of not taking much time, he was safe to answer a couple of questions before getting back to Peter, which would give enough time for the woman’s attention to wander back inside and away from him and the toddler.

‘Alright, fine.’ She paused a moment, tucking her pen into her bun and flipping a page over on her notepad before beginning.

He was honestly fine on his own for the moment, tracing the building’s lines that were basked in the moonlight with his finger. He turned to see Happy talking to a woman in a fancy suit and figured she were one of the people who might ask him questions that he was warned about. He wanted to see the city without the trees in the way, so he kept walking, always turning back to check that the lady wasn’t going to ask him anything. When the trees broke he was even more amazed at how far the city actually stretched out across the sky.

‘Wow’ he breathed out, speaking softly to himself.

‘Wow indeed.’ He jumped and twirled around suddenly to see a tall man, wearing a sharp, grey suit and stepping on a cigarette to put out the glowing embers. He had dark hair and end even darker eyes, which were glued to Peter, who got the feeling that the man wasn’t talking about the city lights.

‘Uhm… sorry I didn’t know you were out here’ he shuffled back a step, but the man kicked some dirt over the discarded cigarette and moved closer toward him, laying a hand over Peter’s shoulder and squeezing tightly.

‘It’s no problem at all, no kid as small and cute as you could be a problem.’

‘Uh, th – thank you?’ The man just smiled from above him and laid his other hand on the opposite shoulder.

‘You’re with Stark, aren’t you?’ Something gleamed in his dark eyes and Peter began to feel very afraid. He looked back and saw that the trees covered the space where he had a clear view of Happy, now he couldn’t see him or the doors into the event where his Dad was speaking.

‘We – um, I’m not… I’m not with Mister Stark, he was just driven here by my Uncle Happy.’ His knees were wobbling under the intensity of the situation and he was mentally kicking himself for not staying where Happy could see him.

‘Ah, I see. But he does care about you, I know that. He ruffled your hair inside and talked to you before his speech, he also said something about you getting to have the newest tech models before he releases them. The big Tony Stark cares about a small little boy, that’s very helpful for someone like me, you know.’

‘I – I don’t know what that means, uh, M – Mister Stark doesn’t… I – I don’t…’ He was at a loss, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that, it wasn’t even a question. He knew what to do if someone asked him who he was or who he was here with, but he didn’t have an answer for if someone said things like what this man was. ‘I think I need to get back to – to my Uncle now Sir…’ He tried to step away, so the man’s hands would fall off his shoulders, but they only turned him around, so they were facing.

‘Did you just call me Sir?’ His lips quirked upward, and he looked down at the child with a calamitous fire burning deep in his gaze. Peter shuddered and nodded slowly, fearing he had done something wrong and desperately wanting to go back to Happy now. ‘That’s just the cutest thing isn’t it?’ He was smirking now, and the grip tightened enough to hurt. His breathing came too quickly, and his heart was thudding in his chest, he could feel it pounding in his skull and throat, he wanted his Dad. ‘Tell me, what’s your name?’

‘Parker! I – I um, I’m Parker… Peter. Peter Parker.’ He gulped as a blush spread across his face and he felt himself heat up as the man chuckled softly above him.

‘Well then, baby Peter Parker, what’s say we go for a little drive and give your Mister Stark a nice phone call then, come on.’ His hands moved down to Peter’s upper arms and gripped his biceps with intent to bruise as he pushed the boy forward slightly. He stumbled as his mouth caught up with his head.

‘N – no. I actually… I think I need to g – go now. Th – thank you.’ He tried to slip away from the man and his aching grip, but the only thing that happened was the fingers squeezed him until fingernails were breaking skin and he was roughly tugged backwards.

‘Nuh uh kid, you’re gonna come with me for a little bit.’ Peter yelped and felt his eyes burn with tears as his uneasiness gave way to pure terror.

‘Happy! Hel –’ his scream was cut off as a large hand clapped over his mouth and engulfed him in the disgusting scent of smoke and cheap cologne that smelt nothing like his Dad’s.

The reporter woman was only partway into asking her third or fourth question when Happy realised he couldn’t see Peter anymore.

‘I’m sorry but I’ll have to cut this short and end it here, I got something important to do now. You best head inside for the moment.’ When he stepped around her and began to move further away he had to hold a hand up as she started to protest. ‘Please Miss, my job takes priority here.’ She huffed and stormed back inside, her heels clicking on the pavement. He spun back to the yard and scanned the trees for Peter, thinking he could just be sitting down where the grass tipped downward slightly. He inspected the small bank where the tree line was, expecting and hoping to see the familiar tuft of brown hair poking out from the shrubs. ‘Shit, kid where’d you wander off to…’ he muttered to himself worriedly. He was just about to check inside for the boy on the off chance that he had somehow slipped by him while he was momentarily distracted, but then he heard it. A small cry before a very muffled call for help which was cut off by something, or someone.

‘Happy! Hel –’ As soon as he realised the yell had come from the other side of the trees he was running; new suit be damned because he wouldn’t let anyone hurt that kid.

‘Peter! I’m coming kiddo!’

After he yelled and subsequently was forced to deal with the stench of cigarettes and drugstore fragrance, he was panicking. There was a scary man trying to take him somewhere away from his Dad and Happy, and he was making it hard to breathe through the hand which was pressed against his face. There was no way he was going to be able to fight the man or manage to run away with the hold he had, and he was about to cry because he had no idea what to do. Thankfully, to Peter’s relief, he heard Happy respond from just behind the trees, but that also meant the man heard him too. It was obvious that the man wasn’t impressed, but his annoyance was really solidified in Peter’s mind when he growled from above him.

He actually growled.

Before he knew it, the vice-like hold the man had on Peter was being used to push him into the cluster of trees and forced forward until he was spun around wildly, and his back slammed against a tree trunk, the bark hard and sore against his soft skin. He scrabbled at the hand over his mouth and whimpered quietly until there was a heavy elbow being shoved against his sternum and windpipe. He was vaguely conscious of the fact that a choked off wheezing noise escaped his throat, but it was so stifled and obscured by the hand clamped down over his lips that he doubted anyone heard him except the man.

‘Stay fucking silent if you want to breathe’ the man leant all his weight on the small boy who was pressed up against the tree painfully. He was looking over his shoulder, and barely paying attention to Peter, whose teary eyes were beginning to roll into the back of his skull as the fear and lack of oxygen went straight to his head.

The man’s eyes tracked Happy as he frantically ran around the corner, head turning from side to side, searching for the small child who he had pinned against a tree. He wondered what was so special about the boy that had the famous Tony Stark wrapped around his finger. If he could tug at that small finger, he would be able to play the powerful and wealthy man like a fucking accordion. The thought of having the billionaire caught under his thumb made his face break into a depraved grin that let him bear his overly white teeth. ‘You’re a good kid, keep that mouth shut and just go to sleep.’ Peter whined helplessly as his vision faded and all he could feel was the piercing hands cutting into his skin unpleasantly.

Happy once again peered into the dark trees, craning his neck and praying the boy would make himself known.

‘Peter! Where are you kid?’ He strained to hear something, anything, but the only noise were the rustling of leaves as the wind blew and the white noise of the city drifting up to where the press event was being held. He needed to call Tony and let him know the situation, so he could help search for his son, but as he scrolled through his contacts he saw the boy’s name on the screen and had an idea. He hit the button and waited for the ringtone to sound as he squinted into the inky blackness of the trees.

Something vibrated against the man’s leg and for a split-second relief washed over him as he realised the boy’s phone was on silent. That was before Happy pressed the override key Tony had installed and the kid’s phone was blaring from inside his jacket. He fumbled and switched it off, his breathing hot and heavy against Peter’s unconscious face. Why the hell did a toddler even have a phone, let alone a Stark branded one?

‘Hey! Get away from him!’ Happy yelled gruffly as he charged down the bank and into the trees, eyes widening in anger as he saw the stranger holding the unconscious child against rough bark.

‘Shit’ he cursed and pushed back off the tree, scooping the small, limp form in his arms and beginning to make a run for it. He made it all of five strides before he was being bawled over into the ground, the boy falling from his arms and rolling away from him. ‘What the hell – get off me!’ He pushed at Happy who was holding him down and yelling something about ‘innocent kid’ and ‘not even four yet.’ He threw a fist at the bodyguard’s face and he dodged majority of the blow, but still managed to be clipped on the cheek by his knuckles. He was meeting the wrong end of a taser before he could even begin to continue fighting. Happy radioed the security team for the event and hurriedly flicked an emergency message to Tony saying there was a situation outside and he needed to meet him at the car immediately.

There was a quiet moan from somewhere behind him, followed by a terrified whimper. Happy spun before careening off the man that was currently out-cold on the ground and ran to the waking child, crouching in front of him and carefully steadying his wobbly arms.

‘Hey, hey kid – you alright?’ He ignored the rest of the security team as their flashlights bounced around the trees and focused solely on Peter, who’s wide, frightened eyes were dancing around the scene in confusion. ‘C’mon, let’s get you to the car now’ he helped him to his feet and made sure he was okay walking before taking his hand and leading him to the car in silence, refraining from asking questions and assuring him that Dad was on the way until they were out of earshot.

When Tony got the text, he was frantic. He haphazardly wrapped up his speech and rushed out of the event, not bothering to say his polite and charming goodbyes. His son was priority. When he saw the car and noticed Happy’s silhouette through the tinted glass he practically dove into the back seat.

‘Oh my god, Peter!’ He engulfed his kid in a tight embrace as the car sped off, leaving the rush of reporters behind. ‘Oh baby, what happened to you?’ He stared in shock at the five crescent marks on each of his arms that were covered in a small amount of dried blood and surrounded by purple bruises. He took in how terrified his son looked, the dishevelled state of his clothes and unbrushed, unkempt curls. The back of his jacket looked torn as if it had grated against something.

‘Dad!’ Peter fell into his lab and tugged at the cuff of his suit, pulling at his sleeve until he wrapped his arms around the trembling boy. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t – I didn’t say anything, but he said… he was asking and saying stuff and I didn’t know what to say and – and I thought he was nice because he called me cute like Pepper does and then he was scary, and he smelt like smoke and –’

‘Hey, hey, no it’s okay – shh, shh. It’s okay Pete, you’re okay, I’m not mad.’ He kissed the top of his head and stifled the boy’s nervous rambling with another hug, letting his little hands loop around the back of his head and slotting into place like they always would. ‘Take some nice deep breaths for me, okay? Try and calm down, you did good, so brave for me like always.’ He waited and coaxed Peter through steadying his breathing, carefully removing his torn jacket so he didn’t overheat in the warming car. ‘Can you tell me what happened buddy, just take it slow, remember I’m not gonna get mad, alright?’ He nodded and shakily began recounting everything that happened after he went outside with Happy.

When Peter had finished talking he was in tears again and Tony was shaking from rage. He didn’t understand how even under the fake identity of Peter Parker his kid had still been hurt, he had almost been taken away and used as leverage against him, despite the man not knowing about their blood relation. When the two Starks had gotten home that night they stayed glued together, with Peter falling asleep curled up at Tony’s side and wrapped in a multitude of blankets. Needless to say, the two weren’t apart for a long period after that incident, and the rule was only solidified.

----

“So, you aren’t upset that they know you’re my son and – and the occasional Spider activities you partake in?” He smiled weakly, pressing some humour into his voice despite still feeling overwhelmingly protective whenever he thought of that night, even now.

“No, it’s uh, it’s probably a good thing. I mean, now I get to meet everyone properly, right?”

“Yeah, you do, when you’re ready to though.” He mindlessly ran his fingers through Peter’s hair and tried to just focus on him and how he was home again, he was safe. “If you still aren’t hungry then you should get some more rest, because as much as I appreciate seeing you awake and conscious, you still need to let your healing kick in.” Peter nodded from against his chest.

“Can – will you… stay with me please? I just – I don’t wanna be alone.”

“I wouldn’t dream about going anywhere else baby, I’m staying right here with you.” Tony wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else, he was content to stay curled up on the bed with his son until he was completely healed. The teen’s face was buried in his neck, arms wrapped around the nape of it, he could feel his chest rising and expanding as he breathed, and he never knew the feeling and sound of the boy’s breaths to be so comforting. He laid there, carding his hand through his hair and running his fingers up and down his back soothingly until he was asleep. It hurt to think that this was probably the first time in about three weeks that Peter had actively chosen to fall asleep rather than passing out from whatever pain he was being forced to endure.

At some point during the night Rhodey and Steve came in to see him, checking quietly if they could come inside the room for fear of disturbing the Father or frightening the skittish son. Tony smiled and tucked Peter closer into his torso, angling his head so his chin sat on his shoulder and head lolled against his neck. He made sure he could breathe easily and brushed a stray curl from his face before facing the two.

“Hey guys” he said softly, trying not to disturb the noiselessly sleeping kid that he kept cradled against himself.

“Hey Tones, how are you holding up?” Rhodey asked, handing him a mug of soup and gesturing for him to have some. “Cap made it a few hours ago for everyone” he added.

“Thanks, I’m alright,” he tapped a finger against the cup and bit the inside of his lip as he thought.

“How is he? If you don’t mind me asking.” He looked to Steve, then down to the form cocooned in his lap before responding.

“He’s – he’s more stable, physically I mean, but…” he trailed off and sighed, absentmindedly scratching Peter’s head. He made a noise of content in his sleep and nudged closer, making Tony hum in adoration. “It’s going to take awhile to fully recover from the injuries, and hopefully his healing will kick in when he starts to gain some weight back, but he’s already done and said some stuff that makes me think that his emotional state is… fragile at best.” Rhodey nodded in understanding.

“You know he’s going to have to talk about some of the things that happened to him?”

“Yeah – yeah, he already has… but he did say he didn’t want a therapist, just me.” The two men exchanged a worried look. “What? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I’m sure he’s just not ready to trust new people yet, he might reconsider when he’s feeling better,” Steve reasoned, he was the ever-present source of logic and rational thought when all Tony seemed to see was a wave of emotion.

“Is it really such a bad thing if he just wants to talk to me about it though?” He couldn’t imagine making Peter talk about what he went through to someone he didn’t know, then they faced the issue of having to explain who he was and his powers.

“It’s not a bad thing, it’s probably a good sign that he’s already said he would be willing to talk about it, but I’m more focused on the fact that you hearing about everything that happened might be – might not be so easy to cope with.” He put the cup down and went back to running his spare hand over the ridges in Peter’s spine.

“I mean, it will always to hear about, he was hurt, and I didn’t – I wasn’t there for him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know everything that happened. It’s like when they sent the photo’s and things… it was horrible to see but I needed them to know he was – he was still alive.”

“And I get that, but did you – have you read the files yet? Helen attached the pages to the board.” Steve picked up the clipboard as Rhodey spoke.

“Wait, before I read them, can you take them off the actual board and just put it away in one of the draws?” He raised an eyebrow in question but did it anyway, “he just – when they operated on him in there… I think they took notes on a clipboard and he must have linked the memory with the pain or something, I had to make him look at me when Cho wrote his medication doses down.” They looked at the boy huddled in Tony’s arms with sympathy and Rhodey hesitated.

“Are you sure you want to read this, it’s – it’s really extensive and there are things on here that he didn’t send pictures of…”

“I want to, I need to understand and see what things to avoid, just so he isn’t… triggered by anything.” He held the papers in his hand, setting them down on the mattress space next to him for later.

“We’ll let you have some time alone, text me if you need anything.” Steve smiled, but something in his eyes seemed sad, but that was understandable given how vulnerable he must have looked buried in the comforter, clutching his son like he was still a baby.

“Um… Peter – he said he’d like to meet you all, properly… as himself, not my intern…” he paused, carefully considering what he had wanted to say since he realised how much help everyone had been during the search. “So, I just wanted to say, that if you wanted to… you could stay at the tower while he gets better and – and I’m going to work on getting the accords scrapped.” Rhodey’s lip twitched and he looked like he was supressing a smile. Cap looked taken aback, not expecting Tony to have been so straightforward about the accords after avoiding talking about everything like the plague until only about a week ago, when they sat in the bathroom together after he had broken down.

“I think, I’ll ask the others, but honestly Tony I think I’d like to stay here again – especially after everything that you’ve been through the past few weeks.” He looked genuinely pleased at the offer and for the first time in a long while, the two men remembered what it felt like to be part of the Avenger’s family that had crumbled under the ashes of the accords. “I think… it’d be good to try and work on getting the team back together again.” His smile was hopeful, and Tony returned it without delay, although Rhodey gave him a look that said he was about to burst.

“Okay, lovely moment and all but I swear if one of you says, ‘Avenger’s Assemble’ in a really nostalgic voice I’ll slap you upside the head, age be damned.” Tony laughed, and Steve looked at him incredulously, “don’t look at me like that, he was definitely talking to you then, old man.”

“He’s right, I will not hesitate to kick your cryogenically frozen ass,” Rhodey counted as the two moved to the doorway.

“Sure, like you could” Steve muttered with a smile on his face as he pulled the door closed quietly. Tony took a moment to just listen to the sound of Peter’s soft breaths puffing against his neck and take in the sight of how peaceful he looked with the pain meds ebbing the pain away in his sleep. He just stared at his child in front of him and tried not to think about how intensely young he looked laid out in his lap, dark lashes lining his closed eyes and still too-pale lips slightly parted as he slept dreamlessly.

He couldn’t watch his son sleep forever, he needed to get this over with, he needed to understand what exactly had happened to Peter, or as much of what the doctors and specialists could guess based on his injuries. He needed to sooner rather than later, because he knew he would need time to just bask in the knowledge that he was home and safe after he read this file. Even as a parent, he could never comprehend how horrible it would feel to see your child in so much pain, but he was sure that even as Peter healed, his need to protect the boy wouldn’t waver in the slightest.

“I love you so much kiddo.”