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Peter’s on the ground, the asphalt harsh against his knees through the Spidey-Suit, and crouching next to Tony before the teenager’s even aware that he’s moved.
The battle was going well. It wasn’t the first time aliens had tried to invade Earth and it unfortunately wouldn’t be the last. These ones, they resemble something almost feline in nature, with gigantic gaping jaws and large red eyes that follow the Avengers no matter where the superheroes turn.
Peter had been fighting them all off as best he could, webbing them up onto the sides of nearby buildings and squishing them underneath parked cars whenever possible.
“Pete--” Mr. Stark’s voice had echoed through Spider-Man’s comm, nearly catching the teenager off-guard as he had flung away an alien cat, shooting a web grenade right behind it. “--you doing okay down there, kiddo?”
“Fine!” Peter says, slightly breathless. He stops on a nearby rooftop for a second, watching as, below him, Clint and Steve work together to wrangle an alien away from the smoking remains of a thankfully empty bus. “Are you okay, Mr. Stark? Do you need help?”
Tony lets out a grunt before replying, the sound of his blasters nearly drowning out his next words. “Nope! What will help me the most, Underroos, is the fact that you’re laying low and staying safe. Remember what we talked about?”
“Stay out of trouble, web them up, get out fast.” Peter recites with an eye-roll, turning to watch as the Iron Man suit zips past him around a corner, the flash of red and gold bright against the backdrop of baby-blue sky. “I know , Tony, you only remind me every five seconds.”
The billionaire shoots a nearby alien, the force of the blow sending the cat-like creature tumbling into an upturned dumpster. He pauses for a second afterwards, floating so that he’s facing Peter, the glowing blue eyes of his suit seeming to narrow even further as he stares down at the teenager.
“And I’ll remind you every three seconds if you keep giving me that attitude, buddy--”
“I don’t have an attitude.” Peter pouts.
“Don’t forget I can ground you, too. Me and May were talking last night about taking away your XBox if you miss another homework assignment and don’t think I won’t extend that to the battlefield.”
“But there’s no homework about fighting aliens.”
“Peter, I swear--”
“What? It’s true!” Peter laughs, shooting a web down at an approaching alien, causing it to stumble into the side of a traffic light pole, electrical sparks flying. “I always do my homework anyways, so it’s fine.”
“Not the point, bubba.”
“Not to cut this sentimental father-son banter short, but we could use some help down here.” Natasha’s voice cuts through both of their comms, amused but serious and Peter shakes himself. “Iron Man, can you--?”
“Got it.” Tony says, giving Peter one last look before flying down to where his fellow Avengers are stationed, shooting at an alien on the way. “Peter. . .”
“Yeah, yeah.” The teen sighs, swinging around the otherside, crawling along the top of a billboard. “You’re no fun-- oh shit !”
Barely managing to dodge the gaping jaws of an alien, Peter jumps along the side of the building, flinching at the feeling of the gigantic claws slicing through the air, digging into the skin of the spiderling’s arm before Peter has a chance to get far enough away.
“Ah!”
Shooting a web at the feline’s paws, Peter manages to get around to the bottom of the closest fire escape, stopping just underneath the metal ladder. His chest aches from getting knocked down and the boy struggles for just a second to draw in a shuddering breath. The leftover adrenaline sings along his veins, his heart pounding as his spidey-sense tingles.
“Woah, that was a close one.” He whispers, swallowing. His hands shake but Peter ignores his panic, clenching his jaw as his arm throbs with a sharp pain. “Y-You guys still doing okay down there?”
“We’re good, Spidey.” Comes Tony’s voice, even more tense than before, strained with worry and Peter winces. “Are you okay? Karen reports bleeding, a brief loss of air--”
“I’m fine!” Glancing at the injury in question, the spiderling feels his stomach churn at the deep gash barely visible through his ripped suit, wiping away the tail of blood staining the sleeve. He struggles to keep his voice steady, climbing with one hand toward the ground. “It’s just-just a scratch! Nothing to worry about, promise.”
“You stopped fucking breathing , Peter--”
“I just got the wind knocked out of me for a second, I’m good!”
“I’m coming down there.”
“No!” Finally stumbling away from the side of the apartment, Peter stops near a dumpster, leaning against it when his arm throbs. Thankfully, no cat-aliens jump out and for that the teenager breathes out a small sigh of relief, his head spinning. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Stark, I’m fine, seriously.”
“We’ve gotten most of the aliens anyways, and I’m sure Cap can handle the last one left. You’re hurt, Pete, it’s fine to need some help sometimes, kid--”
Through the smoke that rises in the air, Peter can just make out the Iron Man suit blasting toward him, low enough to the ground that the repulsors leave behind charred streaks against the sidewalk.
As Tony scoots around a car, Peter feels a shiver build in his spine that has nothing to do with blood loss, and the spiderling gasps, opening his mouth to warn his mentor.
“Tony--”
The alien comes out of nowhere.
It sails through the air with a roar, red eyes locked onto Tony, both of them seeming to float in slow motion for a few breathless seconds before they slam together and Peter’s up and running, a scream building in his chest. The alien’s sharp claws grip the Iron Man’s armour, dragging the billionaire down and slamming him into the ground, both of them rolling from the impact.
Shooting a desperate web at the cat-alien, Peter sobs as he comes to a stop next to the crater, Tony’s unmoving form at it’s smoking center.
With a growl, the boy turns around back toward the alien, feeling the eyes of his suit narrow in hatred. He barely has to utter a word before, with a flick of his wrist, a crackling electrical web shoots out, wrapping around the feline and sending it stumbling away with a loud shriek of agony.
Peter would normally be sorry, but not now. Not after what it did. Barely glancing over his shoulder at the other Avengers as they run toward them, Peter flings his mask off, sucking in a wet gasp.
His arm throbs but the teenager ignores the pain, too focused on the unconscious form of his father-figure to care.
“Please,” He cries, reaching out with a trembling hand to press at the armour, retracting Tony’s helmet with a mechanical whoosh. The sight of the billionaire’s slack face, blood trailing down his chin, is enough to cause Peter to break down into more sobs. “Please, please , Tony -- Dad , don’t be, don’t be --please, w-wake up--”
Gabbing at the man, Peter carefully cups one hand underneath Tony’s head like he’d seen the billionaire do to him a million times, pulling Tony up so that he’s practically cradled in the teenager’s arms.
Letting out a low wail when Tony doesn’t even twitch, Peter rests his forehead against his mentor’s and allows even more tears to fall.
Another face, another body suddenly replaces Tony’s.
A gunshot. A thud and a scream. It had happened so fast-- so fast, too fast . There wasn't any time. His Uncle Ben’s life leaking out right from underneath him, soaking into the concrete. The color, the red blood, streaked against his hands and the pleads which had spilt from Peter’s trembling lips are the same and the boy whimpers.
Please, no.
Please not again.
Not again, not again, not again. . .
“Peter--” A sudden hand against the boy’s shoulder has him snapping up, an uncharacteristic snarl curling as his lips, his eyes wide with terrified-anger, practically glowing red. Rhodey, his own dark eyes soft in understanding, is kneeling next to them. “He’s alive, son, he’s going to be fine, just got knocked out, is all. You gotta let go of him, buddy, so we can take him -- and you -- to the MedUnit.”
Allowing his uncle to gather him in his arms, the boy winces as Bruce (now no longer Hulked out), with help from a frowning Bucky and Steve, gently loads Tony onto a stretcher, beginning to carry the billionaire back toward the Tower.
“It’s my fault.” Peter whispers as they follow behind, wincing at every bump of the cot against the ground. “If I hadn’t have gotten hurt, if I was just-just a little more careful, he--”
“--would still find a way to get himself hurt.” Rhodey interrupts with a little smile, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders, careful to not touch the spiderling’s injured arm. “Tony’s always been reckless when it comes to his own safety, kiddo, moreso when it involves protecting his family.”
“But--”
“Tony would rather it be him in that bed, right now, than you. Every single time . There’s no stopping him when he sets his mind to something, and when it comes to keeping you safe? Iron isn’t a strong enough material to describe his determination. There’s no changing it, bud, I’ve learned that the hard way. Okay?”
Peter sighs. “Okay.”
Next to them, Tony lays against his cot, the Iron Man armour having been fully retracted. His eyes are still closed, breath even despite the slight wheeze and Peter swallows, reaching out and grabbing the man’s slack hand. The elevator immediately makes it way upwards, toward the medical floor and the spiderling grimaces.
“Uh,” Steve starts from his corner, Bucky next to him. “Me and Buck are going to do a few rounds around the area, sweep to make sure no more aliens are hiding.”
“Check on civilians too.” Bucky cuts in, brushing a lock of dirty hair from his face. “All that good stuff.”
Bruce, from his place closest to the door, nods, pushing up his glasses. “Sounds good to me, more room for me and Helen to work anyways.”
“I’m staying.” Peter speaks up, flushing when Bruces flashes him an understanding smile.
“I wouldn’t have bet on anything else.” Pointing at Peter’s arm, the mutant narrows his eyes. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that cut, Mr. Parker. Come with me when we stop. I swear, between you and Tony. . .”
Following obediently behind Bruce when the man leads him, Rhodey and Tony out of the elevator and down the medical unit’s hallway, Peter presses the spider symbol in the middle of his chest, carefully pulling his arm out of the blood-soaked and ripped fabric. His t-shirt from this morning -- blue with the smiling face of a Proton atom on the front, ‘ be positive ’ written across the bottom -- along with his jeans are thankfully still intact and the spiderling ducks the rest of the way out of his Spider-Man suit after Bruce gives a nod.
Watching as the man gets Tony situated across the room, Peter hops up onto the available gurney, kicking his legs. Rhodey, after checking in with Bruce, ruffles Peter’s hair before making his way to the penthouse, something about getting snacks being called over his shoulder. Peter’s stomach rumbles at the mention of food and he blushes.
“He’s really gonna be okay, right?” The spiderling asks after a second, biting his lip. “I mean--”
“He will be if I have anything to say about it.” Helen Cho says as she walks in, tugging a pair of blue latex gloves on with a snap. She smiles at Peter, stopping next to the boy. “Let’s take a look at this arm of yours, though, while Bruce gets Mr. Stark settled.”
Raising his arm up when the woman tugs on it, Peter winces as she wipes at it with a warm cloth, turning away with a grimace. Finally, she finishes with thankfully no stitches, wrapping the injury up in Spider-Man themed bandages, and laughing at the way Peter’s face heats in a blush.
“Thanks, Dr. Cho.” The boy says, slipping down from the bed.
“It’s no problem, Peter. That’s what I’m here for, after all.” She smiles again, making a quick mark on her clipboard. “With your powers, it should heal completely up within the next day or so. But if you start to have any problems, let one of us know and we’ll take a look.”
Peter just nods, glancing toward Tony’s cot. “So it’s okay if I. . .?”
Bruce answers from his place at the sink in the corner, tugging off his gloves with a wince. “Yes, yes, you can sit with him. He should wake up any time now, I gave him some painkillers and he doesn’t have a concussion, just a few bumps and bruises. I’m going to go get cleaned up, I’m pretty sure the big green guy bit-through more than a few aliens and I need to get the taste out of my mouth--”
Grimacing in sympathy, Peter waves both doctors out of the room, coming around to stand next to Tony’s bed. His mentor is still unconscious, the heart monitor a steady rhythm beside them and Peter sighs, grabbing a spare chair and pulling it close.
Staring at the thin sheet under his hands, Peter isn’t even aware that he’s zoned out until a familiar but tired voice causes the spiderling to shoot up.
“Hey, bubba.” Tony smiles at Peter, allowing the boy to carefully help him sit up, wincing a little at the pull of his sore muscles. “Are you okay? Jesus, kiddo, that was crazy huh--?”
“I’m sorry!” Peter blurts out, hiding his face in his hands, trying in vain to keep more tears from falling. He sniffs. “I-I didn’t mean for you to get hurt because of me and--”
“No.”
“I-I don’t--”
Holding up a hand when Peter starts again, Tony gently reaches out, pulling the boy’s hands away from his face and cupping the spiderling’s jaw in his own warm palm. His eyes, when Peter manages to force himself to meet his father-figure’s gaze, are soft and gooey, like melted chocolate.
“We’re not playing the ‘blame game’ here, bambino , got it? It’s no one’s fault but those stupid cat monsters.”
“But I really am sorr--”
Tony sighs, leaning out and pulling Peter up by his uninjured arm, settling the boy against his side. “If I have to hear you apologize one more time, I really am taking away your XBox.”
Letting out a watery snort, Peter nuzzles closer, resting his cheek against Tony’s chest. He feels the billionaire’s arms close around him, a scratchy kiss getting pressed against his forehead after a second and Peter just sinks further against the man.
His father-figure’s heartbeat is dumming under the spiderling's cheek, as steady and strong as ever. The Arc Reactor glows.
“You know I’d do that a million more times, right?”
Peter thinks back to Rhodey’s words from earlier, breathed among the smoldering remains of the battle laid out around them, the afternoon sun having finally cut through the gloom and cast the world in a gray-yellow, shimmering like gold among coal.
To keep you safe? Iron isn’t a strong enough material to describe his determination.
Peter nods, leaning into the gentle brush of Tony’s hands in his hair, feeling his chest bloom with love. He hesitates before speaking, but his voice is strong regardless. “I-I’d do the same for you, too.”
Tony’s grip tightens. His words are nearly silent, but Peter hears them just the same.
“I know, buddy. Trust me, I know.”