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Tony flexed his left hand a lot. Peter noticed that he did it more when he was tired or stressed. He usually took it as a sign to be a little more upbeat than usual, quietly steering Tony’s thoughts away from whatever was bothering him.
Tony’s fingers curled and uncurled, his mouth set in a hard line. Peter didn’t point it out—he’d learned the first time that mentioning it just made Tony quieter and more sullen—but he watched out of the corner of his eye.
He started to get more worried when Tony raised his other hand to his chest, rubbing at it as if in pain.
He was finally going to bite the bullet and ask, but FRIDAY beat him to it. “Sir, you are exhibiting the early signs of—”
“Quiet, FRI,” Tony sighed.
“Boss—”
“FRIDAY,” Tony snapped.
The AI fell silent, and Peter hesitantly turned away, focusing back on his chemistry homework.
He regretted it when a minute later, he heard a groan and the distinct sound of someone collapsing to the floor.
Peter whirled around, his heart jumping to his throat as he saw Tony sprawled on the hard floor of the lab, his face slack and flushed.
“Tony!” Peter cried, his voice breaking as he rushed to his mentor’s side. “Tony!”
“He’s having a heart attack,” FRIDAY informed him, her accent thick as her words rushed together. “I’ve already alerted medical.”
“What do I—what do I do?” he hiccupped, gripping frantically at Tony’s shoulders.
He couldn’t hear Tony breathing. He couldn’t hear his heart beating.
“Peter, you need to perform CPR,” FRIDAY instructed.
Peter knew how to give CPR. It was one of the three badges he’d earned in his seven months in Boy Scouts before Ben and May had no longer been able to afford it. But the instructions were for normal people—people who didn’t have to stop themselves from breaking everything they touched on a daily basis.
“I can’t,” Peter gasped, nearly hyperventilating. “I could hurt him.”
“It is common for ribs to break during CPR.”
“There’s a difference between broken and crushed, FRI! I could kill him!”
“He’s already dying, Peter,” FRIDAY urged. “We’re going to lose him!”
Peter whimpered, but he got in the position he remembered.
“Now!” FRIDAY barked.
Peter thought of the tempo he was supposed to stick to—staying alive, staying alive, please for the love of all that is good stay alive—and started to push.
He heard Tony’s rib snap on the third compression.
Peter jerked his hands back, choking slightly.
“Keep going. A little lighter.”
Tears blurring his vision, Peter resumed. It felt like he was barely pressing down, but with each downward thrust he could hear Tony’s heart beat one more time. One more. One more.
He was panting around his sobs, crying so hard he couldn’t draw in a real breath.
He broke another rib.
Peter let out a short yell of fear and desperation and guilt.
“Sixty seconds until the medics arrive. You can do it, Peter,” FRIDAY encouraged.
And for sixty seconds, with tears dripping down his face and onto his hands, Peter kept Tony’s heart beating.
“Please, please, please,” he chanted with every push.
He could hear the medteam as the elevator ascended, as it finally reached their floor.
“Please, please, please,” he whimpered.
One more beat. One more. One more.
Someone knelt on the other side of Tony’s body. Hands fitted right next to his own. The person was pushing with him, in the same rhythm, ready to take over. Another set of hands tried to gently shove Peter away.
Peter knew he could stop now. He’d just had to hold on until the medics arrived and they were here, but he was the only thing keeping Tony’s heart beating and he couldn’t just stop because Tony would die.
“It’s ok, kid, we’ll take over now,” the second medic said. He took Peter’s wrists and pulled them away, not even commenting when Tony’s shirt stuck to them until it ripped.
The other doctor, a young man whose mouth was set in a determined line, kept up the CPR. Peter could hear Tony’s heart pumping one more time. One more. One more.
Peter backed up and sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, watching in numb horror as the EMT’s brought out the defibrillators and shocked Tony once, twice, three times before they finally got a heartbeat. They shoved him on a back board and onto the gurney they’d brought and ran him back into the elevator. Peter listened to it go.
Then, realizing that Tony was gone, they had taken him, Peter bolted to his feet and down the seven flights of stairs separating Tony’s lab and the medbay.
“Where’s Mr. Stark?” he asked the first person he saw—a stern looking nurse with graying hair.
“Being taken care of. Sit,” she ordered, then disappeared behind the STAFF ONLY doors.
He sat, tears dripping unheeded down his face. He could still hear Tony’s ribs splintering under his hands.
At some point, Pepper appeared next to him. She looked at his face, her expression soft and compassionate, her eyes failing to hide her worry.
“Thank you, Peter,” she said quietly. Peter swallowed, opened his mouth to talk. No words came out.
Pepper seemed to understand. She sat next to Peter and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against her side. They waited together.
The doctors had come out and pulled Pepper aside unaware that Peter could hear. They told her that there was little to be done. The damage from Afghanistan was too severe. He’d be alright for now, but they had no way of knowing if and when another heart attack would happen. She’d gone in and talked to Tony, who was awake and recovering, for a while, then she came back out and told Peter he could go in.
His stomach bunching up in nerves, Peter stood and walked to the doorway. As soon as he was at the threshold, he could hear Tony’s heart beating. It soothed him, if only a little. He took a deep breath and kept going.
Tony smiled at him as he approached. “Hey, kiddo.”
“Hi, Mr. Stark,” Peter muttered. He cautiously sat in the seat next to Tony’s bed.
“Well, that was a surprisingly un-peppy hello,” Tony observed mildly. “Sad I didn’t kick the bucket so you could get your inheritance early?”
“That’s not funny,” Peter snapped without thinking. He crossed his arms over his chest and slumped into the chair, scowling at the floor.
Tony held up one hand placatingly. “Ok, sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood.”
Peter didn’t say anything.
“Kid, come on, you’re... well, I was going to say you’re killing me, but that seems rather tactless given the situation,” Tony continued.
Tears filled Peter’s eyes. He hoped Tony wouldn’t notice, but immediately Tony reached out a hand and tried to sit up.
“Pete, what’s wro—” he cut off, a strangled gasp of pain escaping him. Peter flinched, unconsciously pushing himself farther from Tony as if his mere proximity was hurting the man.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Tony wheezed. “Don’t go. Just give me a second.”
Teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurt, Peter stayed stock still while Tony got his breathing back under control.
“Ok,” Tony murmured, “I’m good now. Kid, come here.” He didn’t give Peter a choice when he seized the kid’s wrist and tugged him closer, forcing him to sit on the side of the hospital bed.
Peter held himself stiffly, careful not to even brush against Tony. When Tony tried to shift his grip from Peter’s wrist to his hand, Peter pulled away.
“Peter,” Tony said, sounding hurt. “Why won’t you touch me?”
Bottom lip trembling as his vision blurred, Peter finally whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you again.”
Tony blinked in surprise. “What, because of the-the ribs? I broke more testing my first Iron Man suit, buddy. They’ll heal. It’s ok.”
Peter shook his head. He drew an uneven breath. “I could feel them break. I could hear them break. And I was barely even pushing, I could have... I could have crushed your chest on accident, I still could.” Peter paused, took another ragged breath, the next sentence spilling out before he could stop it. “And it’s even worse cause you’re not some random criminal, you’re my... my Tony,” he finished lamely, his cheeks flushing as he wiped at his eyes.
The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up. “Your Tony.” It didn’t sound like a question, but an agreement.
Peter sniffled. “Peter, look at me.”
Peter stared resolutely down at the pale blue blanket.
“Peter Benjamin,” Tony said softly. “Look at me.”
Tony had never used his middle name before. Peter slowly lifted his head, meeting Tony’s fond gaze.
“You saved me.” His voice was firm and honest. Unquestionable. “You saved me. Thank you.”
Peter swiped a hand across his face, banishing the last of his tears. “Don’t do that again,” he commanded, his voice shakier than he’d like it.
“Whatever you say,” Tony agreed, smiling. He raised a hand as if to grasp Peter’s shoulder, but he couldn’t quite reach without sitting up and aggravating his broken ribs. He changed tactics, once again wrapping his fingers around Peter’s wrist. He pulled it toward him, raising Peter’s hand and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “My Peter.”
Peter blushed, making Tony’s smile broaden. Peter carefully slumped forward and buried his face in Tony’s shoulder, hiding his embarrassment. He felt Tony’s fingers combing through his hair.
“Your Peter,” he muttered in agreement.
He could hear Tony’s heart beat one more time. One more. One more.