Work Text:
I know you will, 'cause you're a part of me
And a part of you will always be my boy
Steve was having a nightmare.
The dream took a 360 spin because he was fine one moment. He was laying in bed with Tony safe in his arms. Their legs were intertwined together underneath the blankets. Steve’s breathing was matched up with Tony as they laid together. Dodger was pressed against his back, sleeping soundly.
Then the dream went wrong.
He heard his bedroom door open followed by the sound of slow and uneven footsteps across their carpet. Steve didn’t move, assuming maybe it was one of the pets just roaming the tower. However, a few seconds later, there was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.
He didn’t want to leave this perfect dream he had going with Tony, though. So, he snuggled up closer to his husband trying to ignore the the shaking as it continued.
Then there was a pained whimper, “Papa, please.”
As a father, Steve had a switch that when flipped, he was sent straight into his protective overdrive and nothing could stop him from keeping Peter safe. So hearing his kid in pain had him shooting up in bed. “FRIDAY, lights on. Now.”
The lights flickered on and Steve looked over his shoulder, getting a good view of Peter. He was in his Spider-Man suit sans the mask and that was how Steve knew this had to be a dream. Peter wasn’t patrolling tonight; Steve and Tony had seen him go to bed a few hours earlier.
“Peter-- what’s going on?”
Peter pulled his hand back and pressed it against his stomach, his face twisting in pain. “I need your help.”
That was when Steve looked at the situation with a closer eye. Peter was standing there, sweat covering his face. He looked so...real in front of him. And the metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils. It was so livid.
Peter said his name again when he didn’t speak, “Pops, I’m sorry--.”
It all crashed down at once.
“This is real.”
Petr nodded his head, just barely.
“Fuck,” Steve said, turning to Tony and shook him roughly. “Tony, get up.”
Tony immediately stirred; neither of them could afford to be heavy sleepers. “Wha’s wrong?” He slurred tiredly.
“Peter’s hurt.”
Tony had one of the father switches too, so at those words he was up and blinking furiously in an attempt to chase away his drowsiness. “What happened?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.
Steve’s eyes went down to Peter’s stomach. His hands were encrusted with blood. He looked back up at Peter pointedly. “I’m not sure.”
“I’m sorry,” was all he said.
“Sorry doesn’t help us now, Peter.” He sat up so he could see Peter better. “Move your hands.”
Peter only hesitated a moment before he lifted his hands and showed Steve the wound he was hiding...except, it was still hiding. “Peter, please tell me that’s not what I think is.”
“I--uh…” Peter flustered.
“Peter Benjamin, please tell me you didn’t use your webs to close a wound.”
“I panicked!” Peter said, his voice cracking.
Steve huffed in frustration. “Peter, for such an intelligent kid, sometimes you surprise me with the shit you do.”
Tony’s voice was softer but still just as upset as Steve’s. “Pete, the chemicals in your webs really shouldn’t be near an open wound and your blood.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter said again, his breathing picking up. “I didn’t know what to do--.”
Steve felt bad for getting so upset when Peter was obviously terrified. “Well, you came to us. That’s good. Now we can figure out what to do next.”
Peter just nodded.
“Here, baby, come lay down.”
With the help of Steve, Peter got into bed and laid down. “It’s a gunshot wound,” he said, refusing to move his gaze from directly at the ceiling. “The bullet is still in there.”
Steve cursed under his breath. That had to hurt like hell-- his kid was shot. “Well, we’re gonna have to clean the wound and get it out.”
“I could call Helen, but she’s not on call, so I can’t tell when she’ll get here.”
Steve scoffed. “Yeah. She’s not on call because we weren’t expecting any battle wounds at this time of the night.”
Peter mumbled out another apology as Steve sat down next to him on the bed, inspecting the webbed mess on his stomach. He turned to Tony and said, “Tony, can you get whatever stuff he uses to make this stuff dissolve? And I’ll need the suture kit we’ve got in medbay, a towel, and your suit-- bring your suit.”
Tony paused and repeated, “My suit?”
Steve nodded. “Yeah...we’re gonna need it.”
Tony nodded and then hurried out of the room, promising to be back as soon as possible.
Steve turned his attention back to Peter where Dodger was licking his face, trying to keep him calm. When Peter saw his eyes on him, he started to apologize, but Steve stopped him, “We’ll worry about that later. Right now I just want to get this fixed and get you safe.”
“What...what do you have to do?”
Steve wasn’t going to lie to the kid. He was going through it and deserved to understand. “I’m gonna have to pull the bullet out, sterilize the wound, and then stitch it up.”
“It’s gonna hurt?” Peter asked in a quiet voice.
“Yeah, it’s gonna hurt,” he told him, unable to look at him when he did so.
“...okay. Guess I deserve it.”
Steve looked down at him and when Peter was staring up at him wide eyes, it shook him just how young this kid was. He was going out there, risking his life alongside adults. A kid should never go through something like this. “You don’t, so don’t go saying that.”
Peter shut his eyes, but didn’t argue it. In that moment, Tony came back into the room in a suit and with his arms full. He placed everything by Steve on the bed and then asked, “What do you need me to do, love?”
“Let him hold you hand-- suit on.” Steve started sifting through the pile and found a capped vial that looked like the solvent to get rid of the webbing. “He’s gonna need to squeeze. And this,” Steve said tossing the towel to Peter. “Bite down on that to spare those teeth of yours.”
Peter hesitated, but stuck the towel between his teeth and bit down. Tony sat by his side, and took Peter’s hand in his.
“Squeeze as hard as you need, Petey,” Tony whispered softly.
Peter nodded, wide eyes staring up at him and away from where Steve was working.
“Ready?” Steve asked, waiting for Peter’s nod before pouring the solvent on his webbing. It disappeared slowly until his suit was showing and then blood was starting to seep out again. He tapped the spider on Peter’s chest so the suit loosened on him and he could pull it down to his waist so he had a clear view of the wound. “Okay, Pete, I’m gonna have to go in and find the bullet to pull it out.” He carefully used the tweezers to stick inside the small hole, searching for the bullet. Peter grunted and began to breathe heavy through his nose. Tony did his best to keep him calm.
Steve had done this before during the war when they were desperate. But never once did the pained sounds he caused in trying to fix this hurt as much as Peter’s did. After a twist of his tweezers, Peter let out a sudden cry and his hand not being held by Tony shot to his stomach to try and shove Steve’s hand away. “Tony, you have to hold both. He can’t move and try to get in the way.”
“Right, right. Sorry,” Tony said, leaning forward to hold both of Peter’s hands. Steve didn’t like needing the Iron Man suit to hold Peter back, but it was better than bringing him into the medbay and tying im down. Steve had that done to him before and he didn’t like it-- there was no reason to put Peter through it if they could help it.
Once Tony had Peter’s arms restrained and he wasn’t squirming any longer, Steve continued. Peter’s muffled grunts of pain started back up, but Steve ignored them. If he didn’t, he’d stop. He had to find the bullet.
And thankfully, not long after, his tweezers hit into something hard and he knew it was it.
“I found it, Pete,” Steve said, looking at his face for the first time since he started. “I’m gonna pull it out now. Almost there, bud.”
Peter nodded, sweating profusely with his curls plastered to his forehead.
“You’re doing so good,” Steve told him before turning back to the wound. He opened the tweezers and Peter let out a deep whine of pain. Steve hated that he was hurting him. But he had to...so he grabbed ahold of the bullet and started pulling it slowly out, trying to block out the sounds of agony Peter was making.
He finally had the bullet out and dropped it in the lid of the suture kit with the tweezers. It was all covered in blood. There was so much blood. Especially now seeping from his wound without the bullet to slow the flow.
“I have to clean it now,” Steve said, picking up the alcohol. “This...this is gonna hurt more. Tony make sure he doesn’t move too much. On 3. 1...2--.” He didn’t wait for 3 before he poured the alcohol into the wound to clean it out. Immediately, Peter shouted, lifting himself off the mattress in pain.
Steve made the mistake of looking up at him. His face was twisted in agony as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and trailed down the side of his temples. The towel fell from his mout as he cried out in pain and Tony replaced it for him.
When Tony spoke, it sounded like he was holding back his own tears. “It’s okay, baby. Pops is almost done. You’re doing so well.”
There was no way Peter heard him through his grunts and labored breathing.
Steve couldn’t afford to look at Peter anymore. There was no way he’d get this done if he recognized the pain he was putting Peter through. Even if it was just to help him. He picked up the needle and the thread so he could start stitching it up. Peter made a few noises of pain, but it wasn’t as bad as the alcohol. He finished it up and didn’t give a warning before pouring a little more alcohol over the wound just to clean it again. At least, this time, the wound wasn’t open so it didn’t hurt him as much.
When he finally finished it, he sat back. Now that the job was done, it started to really sink in what he’d done. “Tony, can you just clean it up and wrap it up? I’ve gotta take care of this stuff.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he was grabbing the small box and hurrying out of the room into the ensuite bathroom. He shut the door behind him and dropped the box on the sink.
He leaned over and stared down at his bloody hands, waiting underneath the faucet. He couldn’t move to turn the water on. He was frozen. That was Peter’s blood. His son. This wasn’t some soldier in World War II, this was his boy. He was crying and in pain because of him.
It was a sound that would easily haunt his dreams for weeks to come.
“Don’t freak out,” he whispered to his reflection. “They need you. You need to stay cool. You’re fine. Peter’s the one that got shot-- oh God,” Steve said, feeling his stomach churn. “Peter was shot.”
He couldn’t breathe. It was like he was a kid again with his crappy lungs. His hands were shaking-- his blood covered hands.
He turned on the faucet, making sure it was all the way to the hot side. He pumped the hand soap into his palm until it was pouring over into the sink. The hot water burned his hands as he scrubbed his skin furiously under the stream. He needed the blood gone-- now.
It reminded him too much of being out on the battlefield, using his hands to try and stanch the flow of blood from gruesome wounds. Some he saved, most he lost. He remembered every single moment like that and some nights replayed the memories more vivid than others.
But, he never imagined Peter would be someone he’d have to treat.
He didn’t want this to be ingrained in his mind. He wanted it gone.
He scrubbed harder and harder, but his hands were still red.
The red wasn’t going away-- why wasn’t it going away?
Get off. Get off! It needed to get--.
“Steve! Stop it! You’re going to scrub your skin off-- this water is burning. Are you crazy?” There were hands grabbing his and pulling them from the water.
Steve tried to fight it. “I’ve gotta clean the blood-- I can’t--.”
He was turned around and came face to face with his husband. Tony was holding his wrists gently. “You got it off, baby. Your hands are clean.”
But they weren't. His hands were never clean. They were always covered in blood. Now...Peter’s blood too.
He must have either said the words out loud or shook his head because Tony was answering him a moment later, “No. They’re clean. Peter’s okay.”
Steve continued to stare down at his shaking hands. Tony took his hands in his.
“He’s okay. He’s in our bed, almost sleeping. He’s okay.”
Steve looked at Tony’s hands and there was no blood on his...there was no more blood. He stared intently down at his skin, waiting for that to change. But it never did. All he saw was Tony’s hands holding his.
“Peter’s okay?” Steve whispered, not able to meet Tony’s eyes yet.
“Yeah. I came in here to see if you were okay. You’ve been in here for a while.”
Steve swallowed past the lump in his throat. “He was crying. I was hurting him.”
Tony moved his hand away and Steve was afraid that Tony smartened up and realized he hurt their boy and he wasn’t going to want to hold him anymore. But the hand returned under his chin and lifted him up to stare at him. “You saved him. He’s okay because of you.”
Steve shook his head.
Tony sighed and took his hand again, tugging him towards the door. “Come on. Come see.”
Hesitantly, Steve let himself be pulled along into the bedroom again. He was afraid to look at the bed; he didn’t want to see Peter bleeding out.
“He’s okay. Look.”
Holding his breath, Steve glanced to the bed and saw Peter...sleeping. His stomach was wrapped up and he had on a pair of Tony’s sweatpants. He looked okay…he looked safe. Steve let the breath out and took a shaky step closer.
“You stitched him up perfectly. He’s gonna be fine in a few days,” Tony said softly, putting an arm around Steve.
“He’s safe.”
Tony chuckled. “Yeah. He’s safe-- tired too. Adrenaline left and he crashed. Not surprising, it is way past all our bedtimes. That means us too, love.”
“Yeah-- I can go sleep on the couch.”
“Steve, the bed is more than big enough. We’ve all shared before,” Tony said.
Did Peter even want to be near him? He made him shout in pain-- Steve never wanted to hurt him--.
“You’re thinking too much. Just...sit. Lay down. You’ll see.” Tony took his hand and pulled him into bed, next to Peter. Steve stayed rigid. “Baby, relax. It’s just Peter. Watch this.” Tony got into bed on the other side and shook Peter’s houlder gently.
Peter hummed in acknowledgment with his eyes still closed.
“Look who finally joined us.”
Turning his head to the side, Peter peeked an eye open and when he looked up at Steve, he smiled. With a tired flop of his arm, he reached up and grabbed Steve’s arm. “Come cuddle,” he mumbled.
Steve could feel the smug grin Tony was giving him as he laid down to get more comfortable. The minute he was settled, Peter moved in closer until he was snug against Steve’s side. Steve tried not to freak out-- this was normal. This was okay. He’d done this plenty of times before. Peter was okay. He was safe.
With a shaky hand, Steve lifted it to run through Peter’s sweaty hair. Peter melted at the touch, relaxing completely in Steve’s hold.
Tony came in close on his other side and said, “See? It’s gonna be okay. As long as he’s got us, he’s gonna be okay.”
But he couldn’t let him sleep just yet. He had to tell him. He shook his shoulder gently, careful not to move him too much. Peter opened an eye again. “Hmm?”
“Thank you for coming to us.”
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry if I seemed upset earlier-- I just don’t want you hurt. But, if you do get hurt, please keep coming to us. We can help you as long as you come to us and tell u what’s wrong. For any reason.”
Peter smiled, letting his eyes drift close again. “‘Course, Papa. You guys make it better every time.”
“We always will,” Steve promised, watching as Peter’s breathing evened out. He fell asleep with the smile still on his face and he looked so peaceful...Steve would dedicate the rest of his life to keeping that smile on his face.