Work Text:
Tony woke up disoriented, and on something decidedly not his bed.
Usually, that wasn’t a good sign, but a quick groan and stretch proved he wasn’t restrained or gagged. Plus the fabric under him was comfortably familiar.
He cracked his eyes open and let himself relax at the soft fabric of one of the couches in Avengers Tower. For a moment, he wondered if any of the other Avengers had walked in on him like that before his senses started coming back.
Right, there was no one left here but him.
In fact, he’d nearly sold the tower because of it, before deciding that having a base in Midtown might be useful. Though it wasn’t like he lived here anymore, so waking up on a couch in Avengers Tower wasn’t exactly his norm either.
Now that he was thinking about it, though, he remembered staying up pretty late tinkering last night. He must have decided to crash at the tower rather than heading home at such a late hour, which, while not completely unusual for him, Pepper wasn’t going to be very happy with him. Maybe he’d claim he had scheduled a lab day with Peter? Tony had talked about the idea a few times since the Vulture incident, and though he hadn’t actually reached out yet, Pepper seemed to think the kid was good for him so she’d probably accept the excuse.
Content with his plan, Tony let his eyes close and gave back into sleep.
Then he processed what he’d woken up to, and the grogginess from moments prior disappeared completely.
F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s intruder alarm had gone off.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., where are the intruders?” Tony asked, voice low. With a quick motion, he had a gauntlet covering his hand and was moving silently towards the door.
“The intruder is in the medbay, Boss. There appears to only be one.”
Tony nodded, heading towards the elevator. “Fri, shut down all other access to the elevator, and drop me off a floor early if the intruder heads towards the hall.”
“Got it, Boss.”
Within moments, he was standing in the elevator, awkwardly waiting as it started climbing the floors. He briefly wondered how the intruder made it all the way up to the medbay without F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerting him earlier, but soon enough, the doors were opening and his mind was focused on the present moment.
In quick succession, Tony pushed open the door to the medbay and turned on the lights, gauntlet up and ready.
A fast survey of the room didn’t show anyone or anything out of place, but there was a hint of copper in the air. Tony’s eyes narrowed, slowly stepping into the room and walking around the equipment. A cool draft brought his attention to the slightly cracked window, and Tony’s guard shot up. Whoever was in here must have entered from the sky. Not that it was that likely some common burglar could get into Avengers Tower, but assuming this was part of a larger plan, Tony would have expected more than one heat signature to have been picked up.
Just as Tony was about to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. if the intruder was still in the room, his eyes caught a dark splotch on the floor. It was tucked into one of the tighter corners, and the natural shadows had kept him from seeing it earlier, but as he cautiously moved closer, it became apparent that the splotch was from blood. The smell of it got much stronger as he approached.
Too strong for the amount of blood on the ground.
“Who’s there?” he asked, whipping his attention around the room quickly. He was certain they were still in here, but there weren’t that many places to hide.
Which, come to think of it, it was rather strange there wasn’t blood anywhere else. For the smell to be as strong as it was, the person must be covered. If the person had been moving through the room, there should have been smears or more drops somewhere. Which meant...
A small plop cut the thought off, and Tony looked back to find a new spec of blood on the ground. Without another moment’s hesitation, he turned his attention and weapon upwards towards the figure hiding in the shadowy corner of the high ceiling. His gauntlet hummed, ready to fire, when recognition hit him.
“...Kid??”
The form huddled in tighter, and Tony could make out fine shivers running up and down his body. His normally wide eye covers on the masks were mere slits, and Tony was sure if he removed the mask now, he’d find Peter’s eyes squeezed shut.
None of that was particularly comforting, but the biggest concern was the deep red covering his middle. As he stared, another large drop of blood fell to join the others.
The small sound jolted him from his shock, and he hastily lowered his weapon. “Crap, kid, what happened?”
Peter didn’t respond, as if staying still would make him invisible. His hitched breaths and heaving chest told Tony the kid was probably crying, though.
Discomfort pulsed through Tony’s body. He was not built for this kind of thing. A deadly enemy breaking into the tower to steal weapons he could handle. A crying kid who could be bleeding out in front of him? Tony had no idea how to deal with that.
One step at a time, Tony thought to himself. Whatever’s got him crying won't matter if he bleeds out.
“Karen, report. What’s going on?”
There was another pause before F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied, “It seems like Karen is offline, Boss.”
Clearing his throat, Tony called up again, “Peter, you’ve got to get down from there. That doesn’t look good.” He tried to keep his tone and expression neutral.
Peter hesitates for a moment before swallowing thickly. “It’s-It’s actually not that bad, I’m fine. Just um, a minor miscalculation but nothing I can’t handle. Sorry to wake you, Mr. Stark. I didn’t think you’d be here this late, but I guess it makes sense you’d sleep here sometimes. I know how caught up you can get on your projects, so I really should have considered that, but I’m really fine, so you can go back to bed now. I’ve got this handled.”
Tony blinks, trying to adjust from the complete silence to the sudden onslaught of chatter. He was getting better at sorting through the kid’s rambles, but sometimes he just wanted to shake a straight answer out of him.
As he quickly sorted through the protests, though, he decided most of that didn’t even dignify a response. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so. Get down from there already.”
Peter curled in further on himself, and Tony forced the growing frustration down as he tried again. “Kid, you’re bleeding out. We gotta get that taken care of.”
“No, no. It’s okay, really,” Peter replied, falsely upbeat. “I know it looks like a lot of blood, but I’ve got it webbed up and I’m pretty sure it’s almost clotted. Sorry, uh, sorry for the mess. I promise I’ll clean it up before I head home, of course. You won’t even know I was here! There’s really nothing to worry about. Super healing and all that, I’ll be good as new by morning.”
If not for Peter’s tightly coiled posture and refusal to even look towards his mentor, Tony might have believed him.
Oh, and if he was an idiot.
Tony was quickly losing his patience. Webbed up or not, that cut was definitely not healing fast enough for his comfort, and he had no interest in letting his up-and-coming superhero intern protégé kid bleed out in front of him. “Not a request, Parker. Get down from there before I get my suit and pry you off the wall myself.”
Peter flinched at the harsh tone, his shivers becoming more accentuated, and Tony tried to remind himself that Peter is a child, and this is probably the most pain he’s ever been in. And there was a decent chance he was dealing with the effects of blood loss, too, which could be a disconcerting experience for anyone.
“That wasn’t a threat, kid,” Tony said, trying for a more soothing tone. "I just can’t help you up there, and you clearly need help.” Peter’s shuddering breaths were his only reply this time, and Tony started to lose his calm at the prospect of him going into shock.
Was it time to call the suit? If he was being honest, Tony wasn’t actually sure yet how strong Peter’s stickiness was. They hadn’t had a lot of time to test that kind of stuff before Germany, and well, Tony hadn’t exactly been feeling up to meeting up with the bubbly kid for a while after that. They’d been doing a bit more together since the whole Vulture incident where he’d really proved himself to be more than some over-ambitious spiderkid, not that you’d know that looking at him now. Tony felt like he was back to that terrifying moment, rushing towards a sinking ferry, unsure if he was about to have a kid’s blood on his hands.
And yeah, right now there was plenty of blood present.
Tony breathed out heavily, trying to keep his thoughts logical. Maybe the suit was the right next step? But that stickiness had caught buses before. Clung onto planes even. What were the chances of him being able to pry him down rather than just freaking him out further? Tony knew if he panicked and hurt, some large hunk of metal trying to pry him from his hiding place would certainly not help his mental state.
“Kid, I need you to respond,” Tony tried one last time.
Peter still didn’t answer, shoulders hunched in on himself, and Tony decided he’d had enough. Time to pull out the big guns.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., call May Parker.”
That finally gets a response. “No, wait!!” Peter’s eye slots grow huge as his head whips over to look at Tony. “You— she— Please don’t tell her! I just gotta wait a bit longer for my super healing to kick in— I shouldn’t have even come— Mr. Stark, please don’t—”
“Hello?” May answered, abruptly cutting Peter off. She sounded wary, and Tony couldn’t blame her. It had only been a month or so since she’d found out about Spiderman, and she hadn’t exactly taken the news about Germany that well either. They were starting to find a better footing now, having concluded that they both had Peter’s best interests at heart, but he supposed a call in the middle of the night would raise some alarms.
Putting on his patented “no cares” smile, Tony responded chipperly, “Hiya, May. I’ve got a spider in the corner of my ceiling I was thinking you could help me with.”
There was a pause, before she nervously asked, “Peter’s there?”
“Yep,” Tony replied, popping the ‘p.’ “Out past his curfew too, I noticed.”
Peter cringed away, and Tony was torn between a cathartic amusement and the logical awareness that antagonizing him was probably not the best way to get the kid to come down.
“Why is he there? Is— is he okay?” May asked, words coming out in a bit of a rush. “Can I talk to him?”
At this, Peter pulled off his mask to stare at Tony, pleading with his eyes and shaking his head. His face looked terrible, eyes red rimmed and face covered in small scratches.
The distress in his features made Tony’s stomach twist a little, but ultimately the reaction just confirmed that this was necessary. If the boy was comprehending enough to want May not to know, he could comprehend enough to know he had to climb down.
“I don’t know, why don’t we ask him?” he answered May, with a false smile plastered to his face. “What do you say, kid? You gonna leave your aunt hanging?”
For a moment, there was a spark of defiance in Peter’s eyes and Tony wondered if he, indeed, was going to refuse to reply, but it died as quickly as it came. The kid took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady himself. “Hey, May,” he said, voice far meeker than it had been with Tony.
“Peter? Peter, what’s going on? Where are you?”
“Uh, Stark Tower,” Peter answered, though Tony noticed he glanced around first, as if needing to check to be sure.
“What? What are you doing there?”
“Right, uh sorry,” Peter said. “I was just, uh, picking up some books I left here last weekend. I’ve got an assignment due tomorrow so I really needed them tonight, and I knew you were working late so I thought I’d just swing over to grab them real quick. It’s no big deal, though. I’m about to head back now, I’ll be home before you get there, promise.”
Tony raised an eyebrow at the kid’s blatant lie, but Peter met his gaze head-on this time, expression a mix between a glare and a plea.
There was silence on May’s end of the call before she continued in a more worried voice, “Honey, my shift ended 15 minutes ago. I was just about to leave now.”
“Oh,” Peter said, though he seemed a little shellshocked at the knowledge. Geez, how long had the kid been bleeding like this? What time had he thought it was? “Sorry, I-I lost track of time. See, I opened the book cause I still had a problem left to finish, so I figured I might as well do it here—”
“Peter,” May said firmly. “You promised. No more lies.” The tone wasn’t harsh, but Peter’s face blanched.
“I— I’m not—”
“I’m not stupid, Peter. I can tell you’re shaken up, but you can’t lie to me about this stuff.” Her voice gentled considerably. “Please, honey, what happened?”
Peter looked like he was about to cry, but his voice remained mostly steady. “I-I’m sorry. I ran into some trouble patrolling tonight. I just— I didn’t want to scare you.” His eyes darted away in guilt, and his voice dropped as if trying to give them a bit more privacy. “I know how you worry.”
The silence rang loudly this time, and the sound of a car starting up could be heard in the background. When May replied, it was clear she was struggling to keep her own voice gentle. “Okay... Okay, it’s alright, Peter, I’m not mad. I’m going to come pick you up, though, okay? Is Tony still with you?”
Tony cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, but his voice held the same joking air as earlier. “Present and ready for the kid to get down from my ceiling already,” Tony replied, eyeing the patch of red on Peter’s suit, trying to figure out if it’d grown.
“He’s on the ceiling?”
Tony mentally stumbled, realizing he’d never explicitly said that, had he? “Yeah,” he said, regaining his poise quickly. “Regular fly on the wall, that one. The kid ever do this at home?”
“Only once. Let me talk to him.”
The assertion in her voice brought a wave of relief crashing over Tony. Finally someone who knew kids. “He’s here,” he replied, the appreciation leaking into his voice.
“Peter, honey, can you hear me?”
“Yeah... yeah, I'm listening.”
“You want to tell me why you're on the ceiling?”
“I...” Peter looked embarrassed, voice falling to more of a murmur. “I don’t know, I just feel safer here. More... grounded, I guess?”
Tony snorted at the wording, and Peter turned his face further away. Clearly, he hadn’t caught the word choice and just thought his mentor was laughing at him. Oops. Pepper was right that he probably could afford to learn some tact.
May didn’t pick up on the interaction, focused entirely on figuring out Peter. “What happened out there tonight? Really?”
Peter opened his mouth quickly, but seemed to think better on whatever he was about to say. The next time he spoke, the words seemed to trip over themselves. “I got distracted. I know, I need to watch my back and listen for my spidey sense, but there was this person with a gun, and they had a hostage and I-I couldn't let them get hurt, you know? I couldn't think of anything but how easily that person could get shot if I didn't stop it, and that I wouldn’t be able to do anything but watch him die, but I let my guard down, and he didn’t get shot, but I was stupid and—and I’m still being stupid. This shouldn’t even be a big deal.”
Tony’s head spun at the new information, eyes zeroing in on the bloody mess of webbing covering Peter’s stomach. He hadn’t even considered that someone might have put a bullet in him. He was so used to the lasers and bombs and such, he’d forgotten the kid’s main playground was the streets of Queens. A bullet wound wouldn’t be that difficult to get, and geez, why hadn’t he made the suit bullet proof like his own? Sure, Peter may require a lot more flexibility in his clothes, but not if it meant getting bullet holes. Even the thought of needing to possibly fish one out of the kid was enough to make him feel sick.
Thankfully, May was keeping her cool a lot better than Tony. “Peter, were you... were you shot?”
Tony had no idea how she was able to sound so soothing when asking such a question, but he was once again grateful that there was someone here who knew how to handle kids. Especially sick, confused, wear-their-heart-on-their-sleeves-so-their-mentor-could-accidentally-kick-it kids like Peter. Tony was pretty sure if he’d been the one to ask that, it would have come out as an accusation, and if Peter really did have a bullet in him, he probably didn’t need anything else on his shoulders right now.
Thankfully, Peter immediately shook his head, regaining some spark in his body language. “No, no, nothing that serious! It was just, well, the gunman was waving his gun all over, so I thought that my spidey sense was going off cause of that, and he did actually fire, but it didn’t hurt anyone. In fact, it actually called the cops, which is great cause it meant I didn’t need to after. But anyway I got the other person free before the gunman could shoot anyone, but since I was so focused on him, I completely missed the person with the knife.”
Tony ran a hand down his face, tired of the emotional rollercoaster of trying to understand Peter’s story. “Geez, kid, you've gotta learn how to tell stories without giving people all the irrelevant, heart-attack-inducing details.”
It wasn’t meant as ridicule, not really, but Peter’s face still fell a little. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. I know I'm being stupid hiding up here, but it's— it's like I can't get myself to unstick now? But I'm fine, I just need my super healing to kick in and it will be all good.”
“Kid, if I understood the mess of a story you just told me, you've been stabbed. And from what I’m seeing right now, you've lost way too much blood for any healthy human, super healing or not. You need to come down before you fall from blood loss.”
Peter didn’t look convinced, and Tony was about to push more when May chimed in. “I know you're afraid, but you need to trust Tony to help you, Peter. Please, you're starting to scare me here.”
Her voice was shakier than before, clearly not as unfazed by the situation as her prior comments may have indicated, but her voice held a sudden air of authority. Tony wondered if it was her mom voice, her nurse voice, or some all-powerful hybrid. Whatever it was, Tony needed to figure out where to get one.
“I'm sorry, May,” Peter said for what felt like the millionth time. “I swear, it's just some weird spider thing. It's really not—”
“Underoos, you're making a splash pool from your own blood,” Tony interrupted curtly. “Don't tell us it's not a big deal.”
May breathed out a curse, and Tony realized he probably could have afforded to sugarcoat it a bit more for the scared aunt on the phone.
When she continued, though, the fear had been replied with determination. “I'm almost halfway there, Peter. I promise, it's going to be okay. Do you trust me?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, then I need you to do me a favor. I know you're hurting and probably confused, but I need you to come down and let Tony treat you.”
Peter stared at his hands, expression nervous. “I— I don't know if I can,” he admitted. “My fingertips are kinda starting to get numb.”
Tony was about to snap that that should have been something he mentioned much earlier, but May’s steady voice beat him to responding. “That's okay. Let's start just by moving a little like last time. You think you can try that for me? We'll go slow.”
Tony wanted to insist that they really didn’t have time for slow at this point, but one glance at Peter’s posture showed that May knew what she was doing.
“Okay,” Peter nodded, a little hesitant but seeming less tense.
“Okay, let’s start with your left foot. Can you wiggle it for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Enough to lift it from the surface it’s stuck to?”
“Yeah,” Peter repeated, this time seeming a little surprised at himself.
“Good, now how about your right?”
“Mhm,” Peter replied, slowly gaining confidence with each success.
Biting his tongue, Tony forced himself to be patient as May walked him through the motions, moving up the legs before moving to his arms. A few of the movements clearly caused some pain, but the exercise calmed Peter down more than Tony could have imagined.
“You're doing great, honey,” May said once they’d finished each limb. “I want you to try to unstick now and climb down. You can move everything, so you know you can do this too.”
Peter hesitated before Tony saw him take on a steely resolve that reminded him of the way he’d stood his ground against him after the ferry incident. “Yeah. I can do that.”
Although the change in demeanor was definitely a welcome surprise, Tony couldn’t help but expect it to all fall apart now. If it were going to be that easy, Peter would have gotten down forever ago.
But to Tony’s surprise, Peter started moving down the wall. His pace was agonizingly slow, but eventually he reached the floor and let himself fall clumsily to the ground.
Tony winced as he landed in his own blood, but didn't waste another moment getting to work.
“I've got him, May,” he said, voice uncomfortably serious as he took in the sheer amount of blood on the kid’s clothes. Peter was hugging his arms, clearly resisting the urge to touch the wound. At least he was aware enough to know not to block Tony’s access.
He gave the kid a smirk. “If all you needed was a tutorial on how to crawl, you could've just said so. I'm sure F.R.I.D.A.Y. has access to plenty of mom blogs out there with tips to get started.”
Tony thought he'd done a good job keeping his tone friendly that time, but Peter still didn’t meet his gaze. “Guess I just needed a kick in the butt to get me moving.”
The words sounded ashamed, and Tony put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You and me both, kid. Ask Pep, she complains about it all the time.”
Peter relaxed some, but still looked embarrassed. Tony figured no one liked enjoyed being vulnerable, though, so he turned his attention to the more pressing problem.
Poking at the skin, he gave a shaky sigh of relief.
“Tony?” May asked, probably hearing the breath. “Be honest with me here. How bad is it?”
“He's going to be okay,” Tony said, allowing himself a small smile. “Kid's lost a lot of blood but he's right, the wound is already closing.”
May replied with her own sigh, and a quiet, “Thank you.”
Tony wasn't sure who it was to, but he felt his own confidence returning as the situation entered back into his comfort zone. “I've got it from here,” Tony said, glad to be back in control. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. will let you in once you arrive.”
May took a moment to respond, and Tony swore he could hear her trying to decide if she could trust his words. He couldn’t blame her. He probably would’ve needed to see it with his own eyes if it was him, but apparently May was a lot better at handling this whole constant worry thing. “Alright, just take care of him. Peter, I'm almost there. You good to hang on that long for me?”
“Yeah, May,” Peter said, voice unexpectedly somber. “I’ll see you soon.”
Tony waved his hand and F.R.I.D.A.Y. hung up. He grabbed a wet cloth and started clearing away the webbing. All in all, it had done a better job of staunching the wound than Tony would have expected, but it was a handy trick to know.
The process was a tad awkward, and Tony could sense Peter chewing on some words. Probably another apology, which he'd been trying to give all night, but now that the tension had died down, Tony was probably finally ready to accept one graciously. Eventually, Peter opened his mouth to speak, and Tony did his best to seem approachable.
“Said I'd be fine,” Peter mumbled.
Tony’s shoulders stiffened, all thoughts of approachability gone.
“What did you just say?”
Peter swallowed thickly, eyes still averted but eventually he repeated himself louder. “I said that I told you I’d be fine.”
The words set off a flare of anger through Tony, and he sat back to give Peter an incredulous glare. “Fine? It's 2 am and I find you stuck to my ceiling with a stab wound. That's not fine, kid!”
“But you said—”
“Just because you're going to be okay does not mean you were anywhere remotely near okay earlier. And I'm still not sure if I'm going to have to stitch you up or not. How is any of that fine?”
Tony pushed himself up and away. He knew this wasn't the time, but the fact that Peter would say that to his face when the boy’s blood was literally on his hands was really pushing his buttons.
He threw away the bloody web wads with a little more force than necessary and busied himself with grabbing the necessary tools to clean the wound.
Peter scowled as Tony bustled around the room. “I didn't ask for your help.”
Tony spun to face him, a fresh roll of gauze in hand and an edge in his voice. “Yeah, I noticed that. And you know what it led to? You, bleeding out in the corner of my medbay. What exactly was your macho plan here? Crawl in and stitch yourself up? In case you hadn't gotten the memo, our business quota for this year is zero dead spider children. It'd be great if you could get with the program, Spiderman.” The last word was sneered.
Peter didn't reply immediately, instead glaring at the ground. He seemed slightly chastened, but not enough to back down. “You said the bleeding had nearly stopped,” he said a tad petulantly. “I've been through worse.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Alright, tough guy. You think you could've handled this alone? Well, here's your chance to prove it. I'm gonna need you up on the cot.”
A hint of dread flashed on Peter’s face and Tony had a moment of satisfaction where he thought the kid was going to swallow his pride and ask for help. After all, this whole disaster could have been avoided had Peter done that in the first place.
It's gone in a second, though, as Peter gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet.
Tony’s hands instinctively reached forward to help, but he held himself back. Peter would ask for help soon and learn an important lesson from this.
The process was gruelling, and Tony had to bite back a sarcastic comment on how he resembled a toddler multiple times. This wasn't about humiliation though, and that's exactly what it would be if Tony were to make such comments when Peter was so clearly struggling.
Tony hovered close enough he could catch him when he fell, and with each step, he was more and more sure the next would be a stumble.
But it never happened.
With growing shock, Tony watched as Peter brute-forced his way onto the cot and stared back at him in defiance.
Tony pursed his lips. He hadn't actually wanted Peter to fall, but he also definitely didn't want Peter to get the idea that he could just grit his teeth through anything. Which, coming from the pained but smug expression Peter was wearing, was exactly the message he'd received.
“Fine,” Tony snapped, walking over to the cabinet and coming back with some loose tie pants and boxers. “Next step, you gotta get out of the suit.”
Peter looked exhausted, and Tony almost took pity on him before forcing himself to hand over the clothes. The kid’s always been a bit self-conscious changing in front of him anyway, so the boxers at least is one Tony would have let him try on his own either way.
To not at least offer to help get the suit off felt a bit cruel, though.
He let Peter struggle for a solid minute before cracking. “Kid, this is stupid. Just let me he—”
“No,” Peter said hurriedly, his frustration and pain making the word snappy. “I can do it.”
“It's not about whether you can, Peter, it's— why do you have to be so stubborn?”
“Oh, cause I'm sure if I asked Ms. Potts, she would say you always do as you're told.”
Tony firmly bit his tongue, refusing to rise to the obvious bait.
When the bloody suit was finally off, he sighed. That was the hardest part over with, at least.
At Peter's pointed look, Tony rolled his eyes and made a show of turning his head away as the kid changed his boxers. He took the sound of the waistband snapping into place as permission to look back. The kid’s whole torso was stained with red and purples where bruises were forming. Sweat shone on his forehead from the exertion of getting changed.
Tony reached for the sweatpants, done letting the kid torture himself like this. “Alright, that's enough.”
Peter snatched the pants back before the man could reach them. “No. I said I can do it, and I can.”
Tony rubbed a hand down, trying to not lose his patience. “Yeah, and you can also make my job a lot harder by disturbing the clotting. What's with your aversion to accepting help?”
Peter’s voice rose in aggravation as he struggled to get his legs into the pant holes. “I'm not— You're the one who started this!”
“Yeah, and I’m giving you an out, so why won't you take it?”
“Because you still don't believe me! I can see it in your eyes, you still think I can't handle this!”
“The point is you shouldn't have to, kid! This isn't your—!”
“Stop acting like I'm some defenseless child, I can handle—”
“But you don't have to—!”
“YES I DO!”
Tony saw it a split second too late as Peter yanked the pants up with a little too much strength, ripping them and tripping backward over the fabric.
“Pete!”
Tony lunged forward, catching him enough to stop him from hitting his head, but accidentally forcing Peter’s midsection to twist.
Peter screamed in pain, and Tony flinched back as if burned as he saw the boy’s frustrated, tear-filled eyes turn on him.
“Peter, crap, I didn't—”
“You happy now?” he snapped, pushing himself up on shaky arms. “Now that I've proven what a screw up I am? I shouldn't have let myself get distracted, and I shouldn't have broken into your medbay, and I don't know why I had such a hard time getting down from the ceiling, and you're right to think I'm pathetic for it, but I saved someone’s life tonight! If that person had died it would have been my fault, so yeah! Maybe I'm not that concerned about a healing cut in my stomach cause I'd much rather have my own blood on my hands than to have more of his. I’m Spiderman, regardless of what you think, and that means it's my responsibility to protect people!”
By the end, tears and snot were streaming down his face in thick pools. And Tony couldn't help but be horrified at just how young he looked. At how much this child was taking on his shoulders. How much Tony had helped put there.
A flush tinged Peter's cheeks as he looked away. “Stop looking at me like that,” he said, softer this time, the heat from his rant fading. “Look, I know I'm just some useless kid most of the time, but when I go out as Spiderman, I'm saving people, and I don't get to be sorry for that. That man gets to go home to his family tonight, and it doesn't matter what you say, that makes this all worth it.” His eyes fell to his hands, covered in his own blood, before letting out a shaky breath. “No one died tonight. That's all that matters.”
Tony couldn't help but keep staring as Peter pushed himself to his feet and tied the waistband of the sweatpants. He sat down on the cot, completely worn out and looking far older than his 15 years.
“Kid.” he started, then corrected himself. “Peter. I—”
“There was one thing you were right about though,” Peter cut him off, clearly trying to keep an edge in his voice but instead coming off a mix of defensive and scared. “We don't have time for this. My aunt is going to walk in any minute and see her only remaining family covered in blood, so how about we focus on what really matters and get this cleared off before I traumatize her all over again.”
That.
That was a lot.
Peter had a way of rambling, sometimes saying something eyebrow-raising before rushing on to other topics, but he'd never just... exploded. Not like this at least. It was too much to unpack at once. Tony desperately wanted the right words to stop this dangerous thinking here and now, to explain the difference between self-sacrifice and reckless self-endangerment and that being a child who should be protected doesn't mean he's useless, to explain what is and isn't his fault, and to get to the bottom of why Peter thought he had blood on his hands. Why he thought any of it.
But Tony had never been good with words. And the kid was right, they needed to get the bleeding stopped again.
With a heavy sigh, Tony grabbed a pillow to help ease the kid down onto. “Of course I'm gonna help you. Believe it or not, I don't enjoy seeing you covered in blood like this.”
Peter seemed to take the peace offering for the moment and allowed Tony to help lower him to a lying position. In fact, the kid practically leaned into the touch as his face contorted in pain from the movement.
“There you go, all settled, alright? You don't need to move again for a good while. Sounds nice, yeah?”
Peter let out a small “mhm” and Tony figured that was his cue to get started. The kid was still leaning into his hand, probably subconsciously, and Tony hated to remove the one comfort he hadn't rejected. It had to happen, though.
“We'll get this over with quick, alright kiddo?”
Peter nodded, letting his eyes close and trying to hide the winces as Tony got to work, cleaning and bandaging his wound.
“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he said as Tony finally finished taping the gauze down. His expression was a bit sheepish. “Sorry I kinda blew up on you. It's just been a long day.”
Sounded like a lot more than a long day, but Tony knew topic dismissal when he saw it. Peter’s tactics might be a bit more polite than his own tended to be, but Tony was still the king of suppression and could spot it a mile away.
Seeing the kid picking up his bad habits had him uneasy, but he could recognize that Peter was past his breaking point for tonight.
Tony let his hand fall on Peter's shoulder again, giving it a gentle pat. “Don't worry about it, Pete. I had it coming. I was being a bit of a prick about things anyway.”
The man desperately wanted to say something about the concerningly low self-esteem the kid seemed to have, or the guilt complex he was building to rival Tony's own, or at the very least make it clear that he wasn't mad at him for getting hurt, but even if Peter were ready to hear it, Tony was sure he’d somehow manage to make it worse. After all, some of the things he said were just variations of things Tony had said to the kid himself.
Well, if he didn't have the tools to make it better, he could at least make sure to not be part of the problem going forward. If he planned to be a part of Peter's life now, he needed to learn how to speak the kid's language, to figure out what Peter needed to hear in order to know that Tony believed in Spiderman. Believed in Peter Parker.
“Peter! Oh, thank goodness you're okay!” May’s voice suddenly burst from the door. “I'm so sorry it took so long, there was an accident and— Well, it doesn't matter now. How are you feeling honey?”
Peter smiled, carefully pushing himself to a sitting position so he could hug her.
Tony watched as the kid dissolved into his aunt's embrace, eyes closed and shoulders finally dropping some of the weight they'd been holding all night. He heard her whispering soft reassurances and the two exchanging ‘I love you’s and ‘you scared me’s unhesitatingly. As he watched the kid finally allow himself to take down the Spiderman persona and let himself be Peter, Tony realized May must speak that language he'd just been musing about. Had probably been the one to teach Peter it, in fact.
He didn't know how to do that. He didn't know how the Parker’s could let all those feelings show so plainly for everyone to see, but maybe Tony could try to be a bit more open. After all, the kid was brilliant and brave and good. He was everything Tony wished he'd been, and yet somehow Peter had gotten it in his head that Tony didn't see him as more than an annoying kid. That was on Tony, and he was going to fix it.
He thought back to the way his younger self had been so sure his father had hated him for so long, how he would never have admitted it, but he desperately wanted his father's approval. The man rarely gave him the time of day, and even one word of praise meant the world to him as a child.
Well, he had spent the last decade breaking free of his father's ideals.
He'd had a lot of practice in trying to break the cycle over the years, and if it meant stopping Peter from going down the path he did, Tony was going to at least try.
After much water, food, and some forced rest, Peter's vitals finally seemed to be back in the unconcerning range. A quick check under the bandages confirmed that the cut had already sealed itself off. “I think you're clear to go whenever,” Tony said, putting the bandage back on. He turned to May with a smirk. “I assume I don't need to tell you the aftercare for blood loss?”
May smiled at him warmly. “We'll be good. Thank you, Tony. For watching out for him.”
Tony’s smile grew a bit forced. He had a feeling if she'd been there the whole time, she wouldn't have been impressed. He was still figuring this all out, but if there was one thing he wouldn't let himself fail at, it was watching Peter’s back. He wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, but Peter had wormed his way into Tony’s world. No way was he going to let anything happen to him on his watch.
“Anytime,” he replied firmly.
Tony looked past her shoulder to say his goodbyes to Peter as well, but was startled to find the kid looking back, panicked.
He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but a small flick of Peter's eye to May’s back had the man quickly changing his words. “Actually, how about you grab a Gatorade from the fridge to take home? We have the extra packed kind, and it would be good for Peter to get his electrolytes back up.”
May seemed to notice that the request was a little abrupt, but in the end she didn't question it, instead heading out the door to the other room where the fridge was kept.
“What's with the face, kid?” Tony asked, as soon as the door had closed.
“I can't find the suit! And I had completely forgotten how bloody it was, how am I going to get that past May?”
“Relax, kid,” Tony said, hands gesturing for him to keep his voice down. “It’s with the bloody rags. Actually, I was meaning to talk to you about the suit. I think it’s best if you leave it here.”
Peter's face fell. “Mr. Stark, I know I didn't handle tonight as well as I could've, and I said a lot of stuff, but I can do better. I swear, I'm getting better.”
It took a moment for Tony to catch up with Peter's line of thought, and once he did, he mentally slapped himself for not anticipating this reaction. He knew how much taking the suit had hurt Peter before, but it didn't even occur to him to think that it might still be a fear. It figured that when Tony was actively trying to find opportunities to show the kid he trusted him, he only brought up past traumas he’d inflicted on the kid himself.
“I'm not taking the suit back, kid,” Tony said firmly. “Just need to clean and patch it up first, and maybe look into toughening it up too. I don't like that some average Joe could knife you so easily.”
“Oh.” Peter said, as if the thought he’d be getting it back hadn't even occurred to him. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, yeah that makes sense.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, kid. But you don't need to worry about that again, alright? The suit is yours. Permanently. In fact, I was thinking maybe we could work on some dexterity improvements this weekend?”
Peter's eyes widened. “You mean, like, working on the suit together?”
Genuine glee spread across the kid’s face, and Tony could help but return the smile. “Yep. I figure if it's your suit, you should at least know how it works.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stark! That— That would be amazing. I have so many ideas—”
Before he could get into them, May walked back in with the Gatorade, smiling at her nephew's enthusiasm. “Well, you sure seem to have perked up. Did I miss something?”
“Mr. Stark and I are going to work on the suit together!” Peter exclaimed. “I mean, obviously the suit is amazing as is, really thank you again, Mr. Stark, but it will be so cool to actually work with you and know exactly how it works and adjust things. Like character customization! But the cool ones where you can adjust their stats and stuff. I— Thank you Mr. Stark.”
May and Tony shared an amused look, but there was fondness right under the surface. “Great,” Tony said conclusively. “So long as a certain spiderling keeps drinking water, we can plan on it for Friday.”
“Perfect! Friday is perfect.” His excitement faltered, glancing over to his aunt. “Or— I mean, May, could I—”
“Friday works great,” she said easily, before her expression turned serious. “But I'm with Tony. Only if you're feeling up to it by then.”
“Don't worry about me, I’ll be sure to eat and drink plenty.” As if to prove his point, Peter took the Gatorade from May’s hand and took a big gulp.
May laughed, taking the bottle back. “Chug it like that and we might have other problems. Besides, the biggest factor will probably be your sleep at this point.” She turned her attention to the door. “Which reminds me, it is far past curfew. We better get you home.”
Tony nodded, suddenly noticing the exhaustion in each of their stances. Even Peter’s newfound excitement couldn’t completely hide the underlying weariness. His super healing might have been doing fast work, but the blood loss was going to hit him again soon.
“Good plan. We can touch base tomorrow.”
May nodded, putting an arm around her nephew’s shoulders to help him towards the door. Tony noted that, though Peter tensed up slightly, he didn’t protest the help. Something to think about later.
Peter gave him a quick wave over his shoulder. “Goodnight Mr. Stark! Sorry again for waking you up.”
Rolling his eyes, Tony replied, “Night, kid. And no more patrolling til we get the suit fixed, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded emphatically before breaking into a smirk. “Pretty sure Spidermaning wasn’t on my pre-approved list of activities for blood loss recovery, anyway.”
Tony snorted. “That it definitely is not.”
He turned to start cleaning up the space as the Parkers opened the door to leave, when he realized there was something he still hadn't said.
“Oh, and Peter,” Tony called, waiting til the boy turned back to face him before continuing with a purposefully casual air. “Good work tonight.”
The grin that broke across the kid’s face was blinding.
Tony turned back to his work to hide his own smile. This whole breaking the cycle thing might not have been easy, but it certainly was rewarding.