Chapter Text
"No heartbeat detected, boss."
Tony blinks, a moan escaping him even as his mind doesn’t fully process what FRIDAY is saying. The hand on Peter’s arm clenches at the kid’s bicep as Tony dumbly stares at the teen, lips parting and closing over and over.
He can’t be dead, he can’t be.
“N-no,” he finally stutters out, the word tasting like ash on his lips. “That-- that can’t be right. Check again.”
It’s another few seconds before FRIDAY replies in a low voice, “I’m sorry, boss. He’s gone.”
With that confirmation, the numbness in Tony’s mind recedes like a wave going back out to sea. And just like the sea erodes the beach, Tony feels a part of himself - a part that’s happy and content and full of hope for the future - being viciously ripped away along with it.
“No, no no,” Tony chants, letting Peter’s head drop down as he moves to tear at Peter’s seatbelt-- not even bothering to unclick it. As soon as the seat belt breaks Peter’s entire body slumps over, Tony readily catching the boy in his arms as Peter’s bloodied forehead lands on Tony’s bad shoulder.
But even as the numbness left his mind, it had invaded his extremities-- Tony feeling no physical pain as he clutches desperately at Peter. Carefully he maneuvers the kid so he is cradled in Tony’s arms, Peter’s limp fingers leaving slivers in the snow as Tony twists him to face upward.
“P-Peter?”
A large gust blows then, errant snowflakes getting caught in the congealed blood beneath Peter’s eyes and along his lashes.
Gazing down at his kid, Tony can’t deny it-- Peter looks dead.
He looks dead, because he is dead. You brought him back, only to lose him again due to your own selfishness.
“No, no. Peter,” Tony says as he sobs quietly-- the kid’s name a prayer on his tongue even as the tears nip bitterly at his cold cheeks. “Peter. Peter.”
Please wake up. You have to wake up. I won’t survive losing you again if you don’t.
Then the wind dies down - a break between blows - and two things happen at the same time.
First, Tony watches in wide-eyed fascination as a slow but distinctly visible puff of air escapes from between Peter’s parted lips, lasting long enough that Tony is able to blink twice-- wanting to make absolutely certain that his teary eyes and dissenting mind aren’t conspiring to deceive him.
Second, FRIDAY says, “Heartbeat detected, but it’s incredibly slow, boss-- approximately two beats per minute. Based on tests and analysis conducted by Doctor Helen Cho in October 2017, the probable cause is suggested to be hibernation.”
“Hibernation,” Tony repeats dumbly as he holds the kid closer-- willing Peter to breathe again, to give Tony another sign that beneath the eerie stillness there was still life. That beneath it all, Peter was still with him.
As if hearing his pleas, the kid lets out another breath, and just like that Tony’s despair morphs into sheer protectiveness-- a vital puzzle piece slotting right back into place in his mind.
“Okay, uh, hibernation, that’s a new one… how do we treat it?”
“In the event of Peter descending into a state of hibernation, Dr. Cho had hypothesized that any necessary treatment would be similar to that of a non-enhanced human suffering from moderate hypothermia. In layman’s terms, Peter needs to be slowly warmed up, at which point he will more than likely resume his normal circulatory rhythms.”
“And he’ll wake up?”
“As he has only a mild concussion, he should awaken soon after exiting the hibernating state.”
“Okay, okay,” Tony distantly responds, only to huff out a relieved laugh as he grins down at Peter, eyes leaking again but for a far more welcome reason. “Shit, Pete. You can’t do that to me, kid. I’m an old man-- my heart can’t take it.”
Tony looks back up at the sky, noting that the storm hasn’t lessened in the least. “Okay, FRI-- where do I need to go? The compound? Tell me what to do here, baby girl.”
“As the compound is nearly one hundred miles northeast, that is inadvisable in such inclimate weather. Peter should be safe to take directly back to the cabin. I have already increased the main floor thermostat to seventy-eight degrees, as well as turned on the gas fireplace in the den. All should be ready upon your arrival.”
“You’re a gem, FRIDAY,” Tony says as with a groan he hoists himself up and his faceplate descends, Peter laying limp in his arms in a bridal carry.
“Aw boss, you’re making me blush.”
Tony chuckles perhaps a little too giddily at the bad joke - blaming it on mild shock - as he carefully takes off into the night sky, the most precious of cargo held securely to his chest. He soon relinquishes flight control to FRIDAY, content to stare down at Peter instead as the kid’s inhumanly slow yet steady vitals flash a calming blue in the corner of his viewscreen. Despite the reassurance of FRIDAY’s monitoring, Tony breathes out a sigh of relief when another puff of air exits from between Peter’s lips, only to be quickly lost to the wind.
They’re not out of the woods yet, he knows-- not with Cho’s recommendations in an event such as this being based merely on best guesses. Not to mention Tony’s crippling guilt that will undoubtedly come back in full force as soon as Peter is sorted out-- and that’s not even including the likely damage Tony’s done to his already injured shoulder and torso.
But for now, Tony can’t help but revel in the deep, reassuring comfort of holding his very much alive kid in his arms. Because no amount of pain or frustration or weakness could possibly compare to the absolute heartbreak that Tony had felt for the few moments he had thought Peter dead.
But no, Peter was alive. He is alive. Tony hadn’t lost him again.
And if Tony had anything to do with it, he never would.
The first thought in Peter’s mind when he awakes is warm.
Then he feels a sharp tug on the skin of his forehead, and the thought switches abruptly to ouch.
He tries to ask what’s going on, but all that comes out is a feeble, “Wha’s….”
The pull on his brow mercifully stops, and Peter hears the all-too-familiar sound of someone pulling off nitrile gloves before a hot hand cups his face.
“Peter? You awake?”
All Peter can muster in response is a tired, “M’hm.”
The person touching his face chuckles softly, thumbs rubbing gently across Peter’s cheekbones. “C’mon kid, open your eyes for me.”
It takes all of his effort, but eventually Peter manages to slit his eyes open, blinking a few times before everything came into focus.
“M’sr Stark?”
“There he is,” Tony replies with a soft, fond smile. “Damn kiddo, you really scared the crap out of me this time. How’re you feeling?”
Peter doesn’t respond right away, taking stock of his surroundings as he glances around. He’s wrapped up in what feels like ten blankets and lying on the den couch of the Stark cabin. The couch seems to have been moved forward so that it’s only four or five feet away from the fireplace, which is roaring away directly behind where Tony is perched on his knees in front of the couch, having now pulled his hands away from Peter’s face to rest in his lap.
As hard as Peter tries to remember how he got here, he can’t - the last thing he remembers being gripping the steering wheel and leaning forward as he drove down the highway.
“Warm. And m’head kinda hurts. Wha’ happened?”
Tony frowns a little bit then, gaze sliding back to Peter’s forehead as he leans over once more, pulling the nitrile gloves back on before grabbing a needle and thread and waving them in front of Peter’s face.
“What happened is you decided it was a good idea to drive that junker of May’s upstate in the middle of a giant snow storm, kid, only to take a very abrupt pitstop into a tree.”
Peter frowns disconcertedly for a few seconds only for his eyes to widen at the memory of the tree rushing up to meet him, the dizziness when he’d finally opened his eyes and how the cold faded away the longer he was sitting there.
It’s not until he winces again when he feels the sadly familiar pull of a thread being stitched across his forehead that he is pulled back into the present. He glances up at Tony only to see the man calmly focusing on the wound just above Peter’s eyes, but he can see the deep weariness and clear concern on his mentor’s face all the same.
It’s only then that he registers the nanite case still attached to Tony’s chest.
“You-- you came and got me? By yourself?” he asks, tone just a few shades shy of accusatory.
Tony pauses in his work, looking affronted. “I’m injured, not dead.”
Peter frowns, eyes narrowing as he says, “But Tony, you know you’re supposed to-- you can’t…”
Tony seems to catch on to Peter’s use of his first name but dismisses it.
“I can’t do what? Go save my kid when he’s hurt and doing a hell of a good popsicle impression?” Tony asks, face serious even if his tone is light. “Pete, you oughta know by now-- there’s nothing I won’t do to protect you, or Morgan, or anyone else I love. Not while I’m still kickin’, anyway.
“And besides,” Tony adds, Peter’s eyes scrunching as he feels another tug, “It’s not so bad. I’m stitching you up right now, aren’t I? Clearly I’m at least three or four levels above an invalid.”
Peter rolls his eyes half-heartedly, no less worried despite Tony’s dismissive attitude. “You say that now, but you’re going to regret it tomorrow morning when you wake up and your shoulder is all seized.”
Tony’s movements don’t halt, but Peter doesn’t miss the way his jaw clenches all the same.
“No, I won’t regret it,” Tony finally says, voice low. ”You don’t get it, Pete. I thought you were dead.”
Peter’s face - already pink from how warm and toasty he is - turns bright red at that, and if it weren’t for Tony’s ministrations he’d have hung his head in shame.
He should’ve listened to May, not only ruining the surprise he’d originally planned but worse, undoubtedly causing Tony to hurt himself trying to save him - something that Peter hated even thinking of, considering how close they’d all come to losing him.
Peter could still remember those tense nights, waiting to hear back from the doctors in Wakanda about Tony’s recovery. The very thought causes his fingers to twitch underneath the mountain of blankets he has over him - hating that his own reckless decision to drive out in the snow might have hurt Tony’s chances of retaining the limited mobility he has now.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he says finally, tears gathering. “I just wanted to surprise you, and now-- it’s all gone to shit and your recovery is probably set back for months and-and it’s all my fault.”
Tony sighs sadly but doesn’t otherwise respond. The two of them sit in silence for a few more minutes while Tony finishes up the stitches and Peter stares at the fire, trying to blink back the wetness around his eyes.
This wasn’t what Peter had intended, the guilt creeping down his spine at the idea that he’d be the reason for setting Tony’s recovery back anymore than it already was, even if Peter can see from the expression on Tony’s face that he seemed to look just as guilty - though for what, Peter didn’t know.
“All done,” Tony finally announces - breaking the silence with a hushed tone, setting down the needle before peeling off the gloves once more.
Only then does he look at Peter, his expression colored with guilt and remorse - something that Peter still doesn’t understand.
“I should be the one apologizing, Pete. You never would have felt like you had to come up here in the first place if I hadn’t been so damn needy.”
Peter chews the inside of his cheek, immediately wanting to dismiss Tony’s words but seeing the look in his eyes and thinking better of it - the two of them understanding that Tony was speaking the truth.
He had initially chosen to surprise Tony for that reason, remembering all too well how he had sounded on the phone. But that wasn’t the only reason, thinking back to his conversation with May before he’d left.
The world still felt like it was adjusting to the five years that they’d lost and while Peter hadn’t consciously thought that they needed to, a part of him recognized that even if they’d fallen into a new rhythm with each other - a comfortable one - that that delicate balance was all about to be upended with his upcoming move.
Peter shakes his head slightly, wincing at the motion from the stitches before saying, “You’re not the only one who’s a little needy, Mr. Stark.”
Tony sighs, only to roll his eyes fondly. “If that’s your indirect way of saying this is all on you, well-- that’s bullshit, kid. I was throwing a pity party with you on the phone and I should’ve known better-- should’ve never put that kind of expectation on you to come and try and cheer me up when--”
“You’re not listening to me, Tony,” Peter says, using his first name again more forcefully - knowing it’ll grab his attention.
It does, his head snapping up as his expression changes from guilt to confusion as Peter continues, “I’m not saying you didn’t sort of-- count on me coming, or whatever. But also-- I wanted to come.”
Tony closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhales, his hand shaking slightly before he brings it down - staring into Peter’s eyes.
“You could’ve died, Pete. And I can’t-- I can’t lose you again.”
Peter doesn’t blink, putting all his determination into his words. “But I didn’t. I’m okay, Mr. Stark. And like I said, it’s not all on you. I wanted to come.”
“Kid--”
“Just listen to me,” Peter says, frustration welling up. “I know all this has been hard on you and I know you’re not at your best lately all the time about it, okay? I’m not saying you’re-- perfect, or whatever. In fact, you’re kind of downright curmudgeonly sometimes. A pain in the ass, even.”
“Damn, kid. Tell me how you really feel,” Tony says, a mock look of hurt on his face before both he and Peter chuckle at the same time, smiling softly.
“I know it seems like I just did this to make you happy-- and that was part of it, sure, ” Peter presses on as he bites his lip, feeling vulnerable and blinking a few times. “But-- I think I might have come anyway? Because I’m gonna be moving out of the city in a few months and I don’t even really get to see you now as much as we used, and I…”
Peter trails off, trying to find the words before finally settling on, “I still miss it sometimes, you know? When things were easier, like how it used to be, before…”
Tony’s silence causes Peter to shift his gaze back towards Tony’s - relieved to see understanding in his eyes. “I’m listening, kid.”
Peter gives a slight smile in gratitude, only to bite his lip thoughtfully. “It’s like, things are only just starting to feel kind of normal again, but I’m about to lose that too and soon I’ll have to like, adult and stuff-- not to mention going to yet another school where everyone is insanely smart and driven…”
Tony’s face falls. “Kid, if MIT isn’t right, you can still--”
“No, that’s not what I meant! I’m really excited about going, seriously,” Peter interrupts, realizing how his words must have come across to Tony. “MIT is— it was a dream for so long and getting that summer campus internship is incredible. And I am excited about getting to be out on my own too. There are-- there’s a lot of stuff I’m excited about.”
Peter sighs, smiling as he looks off into the distance. “Like MJ, I mean— she’s great, Mr. Stark. I know I haven’t really brought her around much but—“
Tony smiles more genuinely this time, a softer expression on his face as he puts a hand up before saying, “Pete, you don’t have to explain. I get it, I was seventeen once too.”
Peter smirks at that, burrowing himself farther under the blankets. “What, like back in the dark ages?”
“Ha ha,” Tony deadpans, rolling his eyes but his facial features relaxing, folding his arms as he stared at Peter-- Peter getting the feeling it was his turn to wait for Tony to compile this thoughts.
“I get it, underoos,” Tony finally replies with a thick voice, only to clear his throat and blow out a long breath. “I miss how much easier things used to be too. But the thing is-- I don’t think it’s ever gonna go back to how it used to be, kid. But, see-- that’s a good thing.”
Tony leans over, brushing a stray curl away before it can brush Peter’s stitches. “I’m so proud of you, Pete. All that’s happened in the past year, getting into college, dating, graduation coming up…“
Tony trails off, only to smile softly to himself.
“I know I might seem curmudgeonly about it - and everything else - sometimes. But deep down I wouldn’t change any of this - not one damn part of it - if it meant going back to before. If-- if it meant I didn’t get to watch you grow up,” Tony says, looking back up at Peter with watery eyes only to shake his head. “That’s something I never thought I’d get to see, after…”
Peter catches the brief but sharp flash of guilt-ridden grief that passes over Tony’s face, a reminder that even if they’d been united for over a year that the five years they’d lost were never far from Tony’s mind.
May always used to tell him that he and Tony were like two peas in a pod, Peter thinking that for as much as Tony mentioned Peter’s own guilt complex that the man couldn’t see his own - feeling responsible for something that Peter had decided out of his own free will.
Which brought Peter back to the matter at hand, his lips twisting into a smirk as he lightly says, “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that while I know coming up here in a bad blizzard wasn’t my smartest decision--”
“One of the worst ones you’ve ever had, something you will not ever be doing again,” Tony interjects, clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes before crossing his arms and pinning Peter with a just-try-me look before letting it drop and nodding his head. “But I hear you. It was your decision, you wanted to do it, yada yada.”
Just as Peter’s about to argue he adds, “I get it, Pete. I’m still going to feel guilty as hell about it, though.”
Peter debates how much further he wants to go with this when he’s distracted by a bead of sweat across Tony’s forehead, Tony absentmindedly wiping it away before Peter frowns.
“What? You okay?” Tony asks, immediately perking up as his eyes dance across Peter’s face. “Do you need--”
“Why are you sweating?” Peter asks, finally recognizing how close they were to the fire - how unbearably warm Tony must be, sitting with his back towards it as he stares at Peter in exasperation.
“I had to get you warm, FRI said you went into hibernation and I--”
“ Hibernation ?” Peter exclaims incredulously, a familiar and long-suffering sigh escaping Tony as he continues, “What like-- like a bear?”
“More like a genetically modified radioactive spider,” Tony deadpans, Peter rolling his eyes in response.
“You’d think by now I’d be used to all of this but wouldn’t you know,” Tony says with a grin, “you still find ways to surprise me.”
“So you were surprised,” Peter jokes, only for Tony’s face to immediately form a frown.
“No. Not funny, you don’t get to joke about this yet.”
“Okay, okay,” Peter relents, going to move the blankets off of himself only for Tony to forcefully push them back down.
“Mr. Stark--”
“Kid, if you so much as even think of moving out of those blankets--”
“You look like you’re about to pass out from heat exhaustion,” Peter says definitively, deftly moving his hands out of the covers as Tony frowns. “Besides, if May’s car was really that messed up then you probably way overexerted yourself.”
Peter nods towards the shoulder that Tony’s prosthesis is attached to, “You need to do your stretches before it tenses up.”
“What, you get into MIT and suddenly you’re an expert?” Tony jokes, passing it off as he waves his hand around only for Peter to see the awkward way he winces - knowing he’s right even if Tony tries to hide it.
“Besides kid, gotta take care of you first. I mean hibernation? What the hell is the limit on your powers here? And we’re for damn sure getting you both new cars, I already called May and she agrees, vibranium encasing and Karen hardwired into the system though,” he rolls his eyes, “might have to do some tweaks considering how abysmal of a weather forecaster she is.”
Peter smiles before his face turns into something more serious, staring into Tony’s eyes when he says, “Fine, but only as long as you agree not to pull any more stupid stunts like flying out in the suit in the middle of a snow storm when you could badly reinjure yourself.”
Tony looks like he wants to argue, going to say something only to stop when Peter frowns and adds softly, “I can’t lose you either.”
Tony stares into his eyes for a beat before nodding, an understanding flowing between the two of them as Tony gently smiles, bringing his hand up to pat Peter's shoulder.
“We’ll take care of each other, how about that?”
“Even when I’m all the way in Boston?” Peter asks before he can stop himself.
Tony waves his good arm dismissively. “I’m Tony Stark, kid. I solved time travel. Teleportation? That’s child’s play. Give me a few months and I’ll have it figured out.”
At Peter’s soft chuckle, Tony adds, “And even if I don’t, then we’ll figure out something else. But either way you’re stuck with me-- which means no sending me to voicemail when in a few months you get tired of me bothering you all the time. I may have drunk my way through freshman year but I remember that part, at least. So you could be in Timbuktu for all I care— you’re always gonna be my kid and that’ll never change.”
Tony puts his good arm out. “Deal?”
“Deal,” Peter says with a grin, shaking Tony’s hand.
The warmth from the fire can’t compare to the warmth that Peter feels in his heart, solid in the knowledge that Tony’s right - that the distance between them didn’t have to change anything.
They had lost five years, but it didn’t matter - not when they had a lifetime ahead of them.
The thought of that makes Peter smile wider as he said, “Though in the unlikely event you don’t invent a real life transporter-- maybe I should stop taking surprise trips anyway? Makes for a very frigid welcome.”
“Still not funny,” Tony grumbles, Peter laughing as his grin turns cheeky.
“Man, you really gotta learn how to chill out, Mr. Stark.”
“One more joke like that and I’m tossing you out in the snow-- let you go back to super-sleep mode so I can get some actual peace and quiet again."
“You would never.”
“Try me.”