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“He’s difficult, Happy,” Peter says, shifting a little in the passenger seat. “I mean—what do you get a guy that has everything? That has enough money to have everything? That can literally build anything?”
Happy scoffs, shooting him a look out of the corner of his eye. “What’d you get him the past three years?”
“Every year I struggle,” Peter says. He briefly glances up at the traffic, which looks particularly bad today. But Happy doesn’t seem worried. “I can’t even remember what I did the first year, I think I blacked out as soon as I got to the party because I was so nervous.”
“The second year I think you did that….plant thing, in the garden,” Happy says.
Peter’s face immediately goes hot and he sinks lower in his seat. “God. Don’t remind me.”
“I mean he loved it, he thought it was adorable,” Happy says.
“I don’t want to be adorable,” Peter says, frowning.
Happy laughs again. “Yeah, good luck with that, short stuff.”
Peter sighs, leaning on the window. Happy mutters under his breath, shaking his head as people merge in and out of the middle lane. “I don’t know what to get. What do I get? Help. You need to help me.”
“I don’t need to help you, I need to drive you, which is what I’m doing, so I’m covered.”
Peter sighs heavily, not looking at him.
Happy clicks his tongue, changes the radio station. Some Spanish song starts playing, and Happy leaves it there. “Listen,” he says. “Tony cares about you, not some Sharper Image gift you get him because it looks cool—”
Peter scoffs. “I’d never get him something from Sharper Image—”
“Maybe, like, bring him somewhere on the day. The party’s on Sunday, but his birthday on Friday is completely free. I know you’ve got an early release day, and he loves hanging out with you. Go see a play or something. Go to that burger joint on 31st that he likes.”
“Oh, Harvey’s?”
“Yeah.”
Peter taps his finger on his knee. “That’s a good idea.” He does think it sounds good, but he’s got a weird feeling for some reason, stirring in his gut. He chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to arrange his potential plans for Tony’s birthday in his head.
“Yeah, I have those sometimes,” Happy says. “Good ideas. But then—oh shit—”
The car in front of them quickly cuts away to the next lane, revealing a blue car stopped in the middle of the road. Happy doesn’t have time to stop, though he does try, and Peter tenses as their car jerks to the side and slams into the blue one. Peter shoots forward, his seat belt stopping him from going too far, but then they’re hit again on his side—the airbag deploys with a loud pop, hitting him hard. Like a shovel punching him in the face.
“Happy,” he gasps, but then there’s another crash, the whole car shoving forward. Peter hits his head, groaning with the impact.
Speckles of darkness dance in front of his eyes, purple stars marring his vision.
~
“Boss, it seems the car that Mr. Hogan was driving has been involved in an accident.”
Tony stops dead on the stairs, hand gripping the railing tight enough to bend it.
Peter is with Happy. Happy was bringing Peter here.
“Where?” Tony asks. “What happened? Injuries? Details, Fri.”
“Seems it was a five car pile-up, Boss. Police are on the scene—”
Tony feels dizzy, like he’s gonna throw up, and he sways a little bit, trying not to collapse. “Injuries, Friday.”
“I am unable to determine—”
Tony grits his teeth, and continues down the stairs with new vigor, heading for a different destination than he was before. “Make sure we’ve got some of our best on-call nurses in the med bay within the next twenty minutes. Locate the car. Get me a medical helicopter ready on the roof in five, connect me to the officers that are on the scene. I’m on my way over there.”
~
“Tony, Jesus,” Happy says, approaching him. He’s holding an ice pack to his own head and he waves off a paramedic that starts to follow him. “I’m good, look—Iron Man’s here.”
“Where’s Peter?” Tony asks, his heart in his throat. “Where is he?” He knows no one died but that’s all he knows—he didn’t get details on the extent of any injuries. They were too busy to give him any of that over the phone.
“Right over here,” Happy says, gesturing towards the nearest ambulance.
The crash looks bad, smoke in the air and metal crushed, dented, five cars involved and a whole mess more held up behind them. But Tony gets tunnel vision when he sees Happy’s car, the passenger side broken-in where it was hit.
“Well, Tony Stark,” a policeman says, walking towards him, and he sounds like the Officer Daniels Tony spoke to on the phone.
“One second,” Tony says, his mouth dry. “My...my kid—”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter’s voice says.
Tony weaves around the policeman like he isn’t even there, maneuvers around the broken glass and car parts on the ground, and nearly wilts in relief when he sees Peter sitting there inside the ambulance, eyes glassy but somehow still alert. He’s got blotchy bruising on his cheek, a cut on his forehead, and a bandage wrapped around his arm. Tony lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and he rushes over to him, closing the distance between them.
“Hey, kid,” he breathes. “You distracting Happy while he’s driving again?”
Peter smiles a little bit. Tony sits next to him, analyzing his face, and he gently brushes his hair back from his forehead.
“I’m fine,” Peter says. “I’m...I’m good, I’m totally good.”
“He has a concussion and some bad lacerations,” the paramedic inside the ambulance says, tending to a woman sitting on a gurney. “But...considering the pileup...this all could have been much worse.”
“Did you bring a helicopter?” Peter asks, eyes widening as he peers around him. Tony bets it looks kind of insane sitting there on the highway amongst the wreckage and cop cars, but he doesn’t look at it, opting to continue cataloging Peter’s wounds instead.
“I...did,” Tony says, slowly. He wraps his arm around Peter’s shoulders, tugging him closer. “I panicked a bit.”
“Nobody needs to be flown out except maybe the cars,” Happy says, in front of them. “Sorry, Tony. I know you always want things to run smooth when the kid is with me—”
“Happy was great,” Peter pipes up. “Like, just—the best driver—”
“Alright, alright,” Tony says. “I know it’s not Happy’s fault, c’mon. I’ve seen the guy in action, I know what he can do behind the wheel. You’ve seen the Vanko footage.”
“Yeah,” Peter says, a dreamy smile on his face. “The best.”
Happy shrugs, but he looks proud of himself.
“Uh,” Tony says, looking over his shoulder at the paramedic, still holding on to Peter. “They gave their statements and everything, right?” he asks. “Can I take ‘em off your hands?”
“They’re gonna need some medication,” the paramedic says. “You got some of that in your ivory tower?”
“Oh yeah,” Tony says. “Plenty of that.”
“We talked to the cops already,” Peter says. “Told ‘em everything. All the stuff.”
“You’re sounding a little loopy, buddy,” Tony says, as he gingerly gets Peter to his feet, keeping him close. “Concussion talking, huh?”
“No, I’m good,” Peter says, leaning into him as they walk, Happy leading the way.
“Sorry about the car, Tony,” Happy says.
“Ah, well, it wasn’t one of my favorites, anyway,” Tony says. But he thinks, doesn’t say, that the people inside were all that mattered. And they’re busted up, sure, enough to give Tony’s heart a few extra jolts it didn’t need. But they’re alright. They’re here, walking, breathing. It could have been a lot worse.
Thank fucking God it wasn’t.
He checks in briefly with the cops, makes sure everything is on the up and up, and tells them they can call him for another helicopter if they need one. They all load into the one he did bring, which can fly itself, thank fuck, and Happy sits up front, making a call to May.
Tony buckles Peter in and as soon as they’re in the air, the kid leans over and rests his head on Tony’s shoulder.
“Tired,” he groans.
“No sleeping,” Tony says, reaching around and ruffling Peter’s hair. “How many goddamn times have you been concussed? Think you’d remember the rules by now.”
“I hate rules,” Peter huffs. “I break rules. I’m a rule breaker.”
“Voicemail,” Happy says, looking back at them. “Sure I’m gonna get an earful soon as she’s out of whatever meeting she’s in.”
“I’ll make her couscous tonight, she loves that,” Tony says, peering around Peter’s head to pick at the bandage on his arm. “And Pepper does too, so...win win.”
“Tony,” Peter says, abruptly. He looks up at him, and seems very strange and determined for a second. “Is hanging out with me the best birthday present? Like going to get burgers with me? Asking for a friend.” His eyes cut over to Happy.
Tony looks at Happy too. Happy sighs, shaking his head, but he’s smiling a little bit.
“Duh, kid,” Tony says, squeezing Peter’s shoulder. “That sounds like the best birthday I could ask for.”
“Good,” Peter says, and lays his head down on Tony’s shoulder again. “I’m way better than Sharper Image.”
Tony tries not to laugh. “Oh yeah, Pete. That’s not even a question.”