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It was just supposed to be a normal day. A fun one actually, Tony was on his way to pick Peter up to go see a baseball game.
The kid’s apartment door was open slightly, and Tony frowned, an uneasiness settling into the air.
“Peter?”
There was no reply, and Tony pushed the door open, his heart all but stopping as he took in the blood staining the floor. His eyes followed the trail, a volatile mixture of hope and fear churning in his chest that turned solidly to panic as his eyes landed on the kid.
“Peter-“ Tony sprinted forward, dropping down beside his kid, bloodied and gasping for air. He pressed one hand over one of the wounds on Peter’s chest, grabbing his phone with the other.
Peter looked up at him, the agony and fear evident in his eyes. “Mr. Stark-“
“Shh, kid, it’s okay, you’re gonna be alright- FRIDAY, call Cho, tell her to get here right now.”
“Mr. Stark.”
Tony’s attention snapped back down to the kid, who moved his hand towards Tony’s. Tony grabbed it, ignoring the way Peter’s super-strong grip was most definitely going to break some of his fingers.
“I couldn’t stop him,” Peter wheezed out, his expression tensing at the effort. “I’m sorry.”
Tony shook his head, horror and denial battling it out as Peter’s blood seeped through his fingers. “Don’t- don’t apologize, kid. You’re gonna be fine, alright? You’re gonna be fine.”
Peter gave him a halfhearted smile, his eyelids sliding closed as his grip on Tony’s hand started to go slack.
“No, no- Pete, c’mon, you’ve gotta stay awake,” Tony’s voice broke as he begged the kid to open his eyes. Desperate to do something, he scooped Peter into his arms, talking to the kid in a frantic haze. “Alright, bud, we’re going up now, I’m just gonna- we’re gonna get you to Dr. Cho and you’re gonna be just fine, alright, just hang on, Pete-“
He headed towards the door, trying not to think about the blood seeping into his shirt. He made it to the hallway, where he was met by Cho and her team. They took Peter from his arms, laying him down onto a gurney.
Tony followed them like a ghost, Cho saying something to him that he couldn’t process. It was all he could do to stare at his kid’s pallid skin, trying to wish away the streaks of red starting to dry on Peter’s face.