Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter ignored Happy, staring out of the tinted back window, sighing happily as the partition was slowly ascended. No longer having to avoid the man’s gaze in the rearview mirror, now he could sit peacefully and enjoy the lack of scrutiny. The city was busy as usual, all the noise made his head throb, but he was nowhere near his limit, he was glad of that. Sensory overloads were the worst, but they only happened on certain days, or after an unhealthy amount of stress. His day wasn’t as stressful as some days could be, but it was particularly infuriating having to listen to Flash answer every decathlon practice question wrong, and then proceed to tell him, “You’re so dumb Penis.”

Peter didn’t have the energy to correct him, besides, he was too polite anyway, he never bothered to correct his bully. There was no point, plus, ignoring him made him go away quicker. One less headache for Peter.

All Peter could think about was going to his room in the tower and snuggling under his covers, the fabric his bedsheets were made of, were so fluffy, Peter couldn’t believe it. One of the perks of being a billionaire’s protege and (son). The heater was always on in his room, and he loved it, he always had a tendency to get a little chilly, so the extra heat was something he needed.

It wasn’t long before the car halted to a stop, and he could view the tower through his window. He knew all the avengers would be up there, not waiting for him, just doing their respective things. Peter had met all of them before, when he’d gone for a lab day on his school holiday. They’d all been there and he’d been introduced to them, as Peter Parker and Spider-Man. There’d been a lot of shouting about the latter, but they’d all come to accept it. And now they were like one big happy superhero family. Something Peter had longed for, for a long time. A family.

Happy made it clear he was no longer going to wait for Peter to exit the car, beeping the horn rather loud and making the car door swing open by itself. Peter scrambled to exit the car, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. As soon as he was out of the car, the door slammed shut and the car pulled away in a hurry. Peter knew Happy was a busy man, but it still hurt when Happy scurried away like that. He pushed the hurt feeling to the back of his mind, making his way into the foreboding tower.

He was greeted instantly with Friday, “Hello Peter.” Her irish accent, strong and welcoming.

“Hello Miss Friday.” He smiled up at the ceiling, her presence always comforted him. Mr. Stark always had the ability to give his AI’s human qualities, like emotion in their voices and the ability to be humorous. Peter loved that about Mr. Stark, he loved everything about Mr. Stark, the man was like a father to him.

He made his way towards the elevator, immediately requesting that he be sent to the avengers floor. Friday answering back in her usual, kind demeanor. Peter listened to the elevator music, the quiet tunes of AC/DC. Mr. Stark did love his rock music. Peter hadn’t really had much knowledge of rock music bands, he used to call AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, before Mr. Stark had found out and taken it upon himself to teach him all about rock music. Peter was happy to learn.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the sight of all the avengers, lounging around and relaxing. Peter managed to meekly wave at them before he escaped to his room, shuffling through the hallway and sliding into his bedroom. The lights were off, Peter was glad about that, he made sure to shut the door. “Could you soundproof the room please Friday?”

“Of course Peter, is there anything else you’d like me to do for you?”

“No that’s ok Friday, thank you though.” He didn’t really pay attention to Friday’s response after that, shucking his clothes and donning his comfy pjs. He slipped into the bed, pulling the covers all the way up to above his head. Snuffling his head into the fluffy pillow, his head throbbed lightly. Peter hoped that sleeping would cease the sensory overload he could feel encroaching on him. It didn’t take him very long to fall asleep though, head sinking fully into the pillow, quiet snores emanating from him.

•—•

“Peter, your presence is required in the dining area.” Friday’s kind voice woke him from his doze, he blinked sleepily up at the ceiling, pulling himself from the comfy bed. He groaned as he did so, still half asleep and wanting to slide right back into bed. But he couldn’t, he knew that dinner was probably ready, and he couldn’t miss dinner. Fate decided, he slipped his comfy slippers on, pulling a hoodie on over his sleep shirt, he strolled out of his room. His hair was ruffled, Peter knew he probably looked like a mess. But right now he didn’t care too much, he just wanted to go to bed.

He made his way out to the dining area, everyone was already sitting at the large table, Mr. Stark sat with a free seat beside him, Peter took that one. Settling into the offered place, and letting his head rest on Mr. Stark’s shoulder, sleepily blinking himself awake. Rough fingers slid into his hair, threading through the soft locks, fingertips scratching into his scalp. It didn’t do much for his consciousness, already making his eyes heavy, he almost fell forward, body slumping. But he didn’t, Mr. Stark’s gentle palm, pushed at his chest until he was sitting upright. When he managed to open his eyes, he found that everybody was looking at him, some with squinted eyes and some with concern. He shook the attention off, smiling politely and pushing himself up in his seat. Mr. Stark patted his shoulder, taking a sip of his coffee. The sound of footsteps approaching, brought everyone’s heads up, Sam and Clint were shuffling into the room, arms laiden with everyone’s dinner. They placed a steak in front of every person, it wasn’t the most spectacular dish, or the most exciting, but then again, Sam and Clint never were very good cooks. Mr. Stark was always the best, always pulling off some tricky and extravagant Italian meal.

Peter didn’t waste time, he was so hungry he dug in straight away, sawing away at the tough meat with his knife. He shoved his fork into the large piece he’d cut off, plunging it into his mouth in a hurry. The flavour of the meat, burst onto his tongue, and then the second flavour came in, mint exploding on his taste buds. The blood in his veins froze, everyone else had started to dig in too, they seemed to notice the peppermint now coating their tongues. There was so much of it in the meat, it was disgusting, everyone was spitting it out onto their plates. Peter didn’t know how to act, listening to Mr. Stark spitting out his mouthful of the minty meat. Peter spat the meat out, making no noise, frozen in shock. He wasn’t in control of his body as he took what felt like gigantic steps towards Miss. Potts, who was sitting on the other side of Mr, Stark. He found himself tugging at her sleeve, throat already closing up, lips slowly swelling. She turned to him in what seemed like slow motion, he only barely managed to get the words out through his closing throat, weezing his way through the sentence. “D-do you h-have your ep-epi pen M-miss Potts?”

She lunged out of her seat before he’d finished his sentence, pushing him gently into her seat, he could hear her shouting as he gasped for breath, all the avengers turning to look at him with worried eyes. “Bruce get an epi pen!” Peter sat, watching everyone scurry about, Dr. Banner shoots out of the room like a bullet. Mr. Stark turns to look at him, threading his fingers through Peter’s hair again.

“It’s gonna be ok Pete, Bruce is just going to get you an epi pen, he’ll be back in a flash.” he looked worried, panic held just beneath the surface, Peter felt bad for making him worry. But right now he didn’t have the energy to mull his thoughts over, throat fully closing. He tried to pull air into his lungs, but he couldn’t, chest not even rising and falling, just laying still as he gasped uselessly. His lips were turning blue, along with his face, he could feel himself start to cry,

“M-mr. Stark.” he stares up in fear, knowing that he’s dying, and there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.

Mr. Stark seems to have figured out what he’s thinking, “Hey, hey, none of that, you’re gonna be alright, Bruce is coming. It’s okay baby.” he strokes his calloused hand through Peter’s fluffy locks. Peter can’t help but whine breathlessly, pushing his head into Mr. Stark’s hand. Seeking comfort.

Dr. Banner flies into the room in a hurry, epi pen in hand, he scurries over to him. Falling to his knees on the floor next to him, he raises the hand with the epi pen up, plunging his hand down onto Peter’s leg. The epi pen’s needle pierces the skin of his thigh, the chemicals flowing through his blood. He doesn’t have the energy to hold on for much longer though, only managing a short gasp when the swelling on his throat goes down, before his eyes flutter shut. Letting the monster of unconsciousness take him under.

•—•

He’s not aware of anything really when he wakes up for the first time, he’s in some kind of hospital bed, he knows that much. There’s no one in the room with him, but he can hear voices talking just outside the room.

“He went into anaphylactic shock, he was obviously allergic to the mint in the steaks we had for dinner. There’s no telling when he could wake up, his body’s weak right now, he needs his rest.” Peter susses out, that that must have been Dr. Banner.

“Well I wanna know who decided it was a great idea to put that much mint in a fucking steak, and since when has Peter been allergic to peppermint, and why didn’t he tell me?” Peter knows that, that’s Mr. Stark, he doesn’t have the energy to listen to much more though, before his body succumbs to the call for sleep.

•—•

The next time he wakes up, he’s incredibly less tired, there’s still no one in the room with him, but he can hear the distinct hum of the television in the other room, and the quiet murmur of hushed voices. Peter yawns, quickly realising his bladder needs emptying, he looks around for a second, searching for some kind of bathroom. There isn’t one, Peter makes his decision. He sits up slowly, swaying when his head spins, he swings his legs around and over the edge of the bed. He shivers when his bare feet make contact with the cold floor, he stands up anyway, bracing himself against the bed when he becomes dizzy. The dizziness soon dissipates, leaving him capable of making his way across the room. He does expect to be wearing one of those flimsy hospital gowns with the open back, bearing his bum to the outside world. He’s glad to find that his dignity is intact, he’s wearing teal green joggers and a thin white t-shirt. When he gets to the door, the voices are louder, he can hear them much more distinctly.

“When do you think he’s gonna wake up, he’s been asleep for at least a day. Are you sure he’s ok?”

“Well we won’t know truly until he wakes up, but personally, I believe he’s gonna be fine. His body is just tired from having to fight the mint, and his body went without oxygen for almost a whole minute, we’ve just gotta give him time.”

Peter decides that now would be the best time to make his entrance, pushing open the frosted glass door, he pokes his head out. Everyone is sat around a small coffee table, perched on various pieces of furniture. A sofa, a couple of chairs, they all look worried, it makes Peter’s heart clench to know that it’s his fault they’re all in distress.

He doesn’t want any of them to worry anymore though, so he pushes the door open further. Letting his body slip through the crack in the door, his head spins even more, he can’t really see anything in front of him. He clenches his eyes shut, gripping the door frame with his hand to keep himself upright. The dizziness passes, leaving him slightly breathless, he pushes past it, stumbling further into the room. “Um d-does anyone know where the bathroom is, i-i gotta pee.”

Mr. Stark is up and out of his seat in seconds, clenching his hand around Peter’s elbow. Sliding an arm around his waist and pulling him towards the couch until he’s sat down. “If you needed to get up, you should have just shouted and we would’ve come and help you. How are you feeling Pete?”

“I’m fine, it’s just, I wasn’t expecting there to be any mint in my food ya know. But then again, it’s not something I really remembered I was allergic to, it being new and all, cause of the spider bite ya know.” He waved his hand around, shrugging as if everyone would know what he meant.

“No, I don’t know Peter. This was because of the spider bite? Why wouldn’t you tell me? I want to know these things if they’re gonna be of damage to your health.” Tony shook his head disapprovingly, angry at Peter’s lack of communication.

There was no other word for it, Peter blanched, his face instantly going pale. Only now realising that they didn’t know. Because he’d never told them, completely forgetting the fact that his family wanted to protect him. And they could only do that if they knew what they had to protect him from. Guilt flew through him in waves, he lowered his head to avoid meeting Mr. Stark’s eyes.

But he wasn’t having any of it, Mr. Stark wormed his hand underneath Peter’s chin. Placing two rough fingers on the skin there and gently pushing his head up. “I’m not mad at you, I just want to help you, alright Pete?”

“Ok Dad.”

“Um, N-no, I-I meant Mr. Stark!”

“Oh my god, you called me Dad.”

“N-no no I didn’t!”

“Yes you did, no take backs!”

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes tiredly. “Ugh, I’m going back to bed.” He stumbled out of the room, the laughter from his teammates and his family echoing behind him. He couldn’t help the smile that wound its way onto his face.

Chapter Text

The shrill sound of the bell ringing broke Peter from his troubled thoughts and his half assed focus on his teacher. He stood like all the other kids, scooping up all of his heavy books and shoving them into his 17th backpack of the month. He guesses he should feel guilty about that, but Mr. Stark is a billionaire and he’s always made it known that Peter can have anything he wants, within reason.

“You okay?” Ned’s concerned voice comes from in front of him, eyebrows raised and mouth set in a worried line as he hefts his bag higher onto his shoulder. 

Peter’s already smiling before Ned’s finished his sentence, “I’m fine dude.” 

Ned’s face shows that he doesn’t believe him, but he just shakes his head and caves. Pulling Peter by the elbow out of the classroom towards their lockers. Luckily Flash isn’t in the hallway when they exit, it’s fairly empty, baron except for a couple people standing by their lockers. Peter must have been staring off into a space for a long time if everyone’s already gone home. Peter’s just happy he doesn’t have to take another rough elbow to the side and a crude dig at his abundance of parents. 

None too gently he shoves his books into his locker, slamming it shut and twisting the lock. He’s not very excited for patrol, it’s so cold this time of year that he really doesn’t want to have to be outside, at least he has a built in heater in his multi-million dollar suit. That phrase never fails to make him feel guilty, the ache in his chest worsening when he realises how much money and time Mr. Stark spends on him to keep him safe. He doesn’t deserve the amount of affection he gets, he hates how guilty it makes him feel. But it makes him feel even more guilty, thinking of how much it would hurt Mr. Stark if he died when he wasn’t in the suit.

Ned’s hand waving in front of his face jolts him out of his thoughts, the ache in his chest simmering down to something more tolerable when he sees the pieces of lego in his friend’s hands. “Are you sure you’re alright? You keep zoning out every now and again.”

“Yeah i’m fine, just a little cold. I’ll warm up once I'm in the suit though. Heater and all that.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, even though he knows it’s more than that. He isn’t shivering, his body doesn’t do that, Peter wishes it would. His body does nothing to help warm him up, he always feels like he’s battling against his own body to survive.

Ned nods, “Guess i’ll see you tomorrow then, hope you’re more with it tomorrow Peter.”

With that he walks away, lego figures safely clutched in his palm. 

Peter doesn’t hang around for long, taking the same route he always does, ripping off his clothes once he gets to the alley and pulling on the momentarily baggy spider suit. He webs his bag to the inside of  a dumpster this time, making sure to cover it with lots of different garbage bags. He presses the spider emblem on his chest, revelling in the way it fits to him perfectly. He slips the mask on not waiting for Karen to start with her usual, “Hello Peter.” before he’s asking her to turn on the heater. Karen complies, the fabric instantly warming him up. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, finally not having to worry about the fact that his body just doesn’t want to thermoregulate. He knows it’s because of the spider bite, his DNA mixing with the spiders, he’s picked up so many things from the spider bite, this is just another one. This one being one of the negative side effects, he wants to be able to compare his DNA to that of a spider and that of another human. The scientist side of him, wanting to find out what’s changed. He makes a mental note to ask Dr. Banner if he can borrow some of his lab equipment. He pushes that to the back of his mind for another time. 

He’s already swinging, web stuck to the side of a high rise building, gripping the artificial spider silk with both hands, he leaps. Spinning in the air and doing somersaults as he whoops. This would never stop being fun to him, this was where he was supposed to be, where he felt he belonged. He landed on the top of a building, in his signature stance. He stands, surveying his neighbourhood and looking for any crimes he can help prevent. Nothing catches his eye for a while, he settles for sitting on the edge of the roof, legs dangling back and forth while he waits for something interesting to happen. 

The first sign that something bad is happening is the sound of a woman screaming, her terrified sobs cutting through the air like a knife. Adrenaline floods through Peter’s veins, body already jumping in the direction of the noise. He hangs onto the web still attached to a window up high, the first thing he sees is the woman. Cowering in the corner of an alleyway, a man standing over her, clad all in black. The sun glints off the sharp silver object in the man’s hand, a knife. He growls at the woman, “Give me your money.”

Peter doesn’t wait for the woman to answer before he’s jumping off the web, somersaulting in the air and landing gracefully on his feet between the man and the woman, facing the man. “Don’t you know it’s rude to threaten people for things that aren’t yours?” His cocky spider man attitude coming out in full force. 

Peter smiles when the man turns to look at him, sneering at the fact that he’s been caught. His breath is rancid as he snarls at Peter, “Get outta here you little bug, before I squash you with my boot.” he lifts his booted foot, stomping it on the ground dramatically. Emphasising the truth to his threat, but Peter knows the man would have no chance, squashing him. If a warehouse couldn’t squash him, some criminal’s ratty black boot certainly wouldn’t. 

“Hey, there’s no reason to get violent, just step back from the woman, and we can all go home uninjured.” he raises his arms defensively, slowly edging further to the volatile man. 

“No! Don’t come any further, I need the money and I'm getting it one way or the other.”

Peter smirks, taking the opportunity for what it was, a chance to get one of his signature quips in. “Well there’s only two ways Mr. Criminal, no and no. Just give me the knife and we can all go home, and you can go and think long and hard about why, what you did was wrong.”

The man growls, clearly having enough of Peter’s chit chat, he lunges forward, aiming the sharp instrument toward Peter’s chest. But his reflexes are too sharp, he bends almost in half backwards, bending under the knife. He whips back up faster than the man can blink, Peter’s managed to disarm the man in a matter of seconds. He lets out a cry of triumph, rushing past the criminal and towards the woman. He grabs her arm, “Are you gonna be alright?” 

“Yeah, thank you Spider-Man.” she smiles gratefully, running past him and onto the main road, not looking back once. Peter manages to shout “That’s okay ma’am.” after her, but he doesn’t know if she heard him. He turns around, searching for the man. The knife was still on the floor where he’d chucked it, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Peter sighed knowing that he wouldn’t be able to lock the man up and prevent him from stealing from other people.

“Karen, can you turn the heater up further?”

“No Peter I cannot, it seems that by running the heat for as long as you have and at such a high temperature, you’ve burnt it out.” 

The whine that escapes his throat shocks him, but the litany of no’s don’t. He was already cold, the warmth from the heater only doing so much, it had felt warm to begin with, but now he felt freezing. He was scared and he had no idea how to fix it, his body wasn’t shivering, his teeth not chattering. He trembled, and it wasn’t from his body’s innate instinct to thermoregulate, no, that was gone. No, it was from the fear of knowing, that he was dying, and no-one was here to save him, not even his own body. 

He didn’t know how he was still on his feet, but he knew he needed help, and fast. His only option was the tower, but that was so far from his current position he had no idea how he was gonna make it, but he needed to. He turns back to the road, realising how dark it is, there are hardly any cars driving by. He makes his way up the side of the building next to him, sticking to the wall efficiently. When he gets to the top, he rests on all fours, the strain he used to feel of not being able to balance was all gone. He could sit in any position for hours and he wouldn’t even feel a tingle in his muscles.

He swung as fast as he could, for his, barely functioning body, that wasn’t very fast. He could feel his eyelids drooping, the black spots dancing in the edge of his vision. Air wasn’t coming in fast enough, he could feel himself panicking, he couldn’t see where he was going, but he hoped he was going the right way. 

He didn’t see the wall of glass until he slammed into it face first, nose squishing into the cold surface. He could hear the bang his body made, but he was already in a fog, barely hearing things or seeing them. The pain was only doing so much to pull him away from unconsciousness. He only had enough energy to keep himself stuck to the barrier in his path, his fingers staying fixed to the glass. He looked up, noticing the big lights indicating that he was now stuck to the Avengers Tower. He sighed in relief, he had been going in the right direction, he could not be happier. 

The journey went by in flashes, he lost focus multiple times, climbing slowly, not aware of what his body was doing. He’d zone in and out, only becoming aware he’d moved when he realized he was further up than he had been a minute ago. He was only barely aware he’d made it to the top, his hand limply folding around the railing, the skin of his palm adhering to the cold metal. He pulled himself up, fingers trembling with the exertion. His body was weakened, his super strength not as strong as it usually was. 

His body swayed once he was on his feet on the platform, eyes half open as they squinted at the window. Tony was sitting on the expensive couch in the middle of the room, tapping away at his stark tablet. Peter’s mouth quirked upwards, he didn’t have enough strength to smile. He couldn’t feel his feet moving, but he knew he was walking towards the doorway. He slumped against the wall once he was inside, he tentatively pulled his mask off, barely restraining himself from whining as the cool air bit at his skin. 

“M-mr. Stark.” It’s croaky and weak, the words barely forming. He doesn’t have enough energy to keep his eyes open anymore, letting them slip shut on him. Body slowly sliding down the wall. He doesn’t feel his head hit the floor, because a rough calloused hand intercepts his falling. Strong arms lowering his body to the floor, as the hand cups the back of his head. He hears shouting, but he doesn have enough energy to listen anymore. Letting himself slip under into the cover of darkness that is sleep. 

“Peter!”

• —•

“How was he able to get hypothermia with that suit on?! Even without the heater, he shouldn’t have managed to get hypothermia!”

“Well he did, and we don’t know how. We can do tests but it's a fact. He got hypothermia, and there’s no point worrying about it, let’s just go and we can let him rest.”

“Fine, but once he’s well, we’re doing those tests.”

The voices were what woke him up, their low sound fading in through the fog in his head. His eyes fluttered, eyelids not quite capable of opening. They felt heavy, like they had been weighed down by bricks. He whimpered, throat rough and soar, pain lancing through his nerves as the sound escaped him. He heard the sound of feet shuffling rapidly towards him, “Peter, Peter, can you hear me?”

A gentle hand pried his eye open, light slicing into his eyes, his head throbbed from the onslaught. He moaned, weakly trying to push back from the hand, turning his head to the right as far as possible. The hand left his head, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just needed to know if you were still with us. You wanna open those eyes for us Pete? Then you can go right back to sleep.”

“Mmph.” Peter rolled his head towards the voice, it’s low timbre sending warmth through him. He put all his strength into opening an eyelid, but it only fluttered. He was so tired, he just wanted to sleep, but that familiar voice suddenly turned desperate, pleading him to open his eyes.

“Come on Pete, please, just for a minute, I need to know you’re ok.” That gentle hand was back on him again, stroking his hair and threading comfortingly through the curls sat atop his head. Peter relented, trying as hard as he could to fight the need to sleep, blinking his weary eyes open to take in the sight of a stressed and worried looking Tony Stark.

“M’sr St’rk?” his lips feel dry and chapped, every syllable forced out of his mouth painful on his sensitive throat.

“Yeah kiddo, it’s me. How you’re you feeling?” he scratches his fingers firmer into Peter’s skull, Peter snuffles, head shifting further into the hand on his head. 

“I d’nt kn’w. Wha’ happ’n’d?” Peter manages to shoot Tony a serious and worried look, even in his sleepy and coma like state.

Tony just shakes his head, lowering his head into his hands and sighing, relief and pain and worry all sound within the brief exhale of air. “You don’t remember?” his eyes are filled with worry when he looks up to address his question to Peter.

Shaking his head Peter mumbles a barely coherent “no”.

“You were out on patrol, you came back to the tower. You mumbled my name and I looked up to see you barely conscious, absolutely chilled to the bone and you passed out into my arms. You were hypothermic Pete. I don’t know how, but you were. But I'm gonna find out why, for you bud, this won’t happen again, I promise Bambino.” Tony’s eyes were shrouded in guilt, obviously believing somehow, that this was his fault.

“C’n’t th’rm’r’g’late.” 

Tony scrunched his face in confusion, “What was that bud?”

Peter licked his lips, swallowing heavily in order to make the words a little easier to understand, but there was already a cup being gently held in front of him, the straw guided to his lips. He didn’t stop to wait for permission or for Tony to tell him he could drink, he gulped in the water like it would give him eternal youth. But the cup was pulled back before he could take a third rather large mouthful of water. “Slow down there spider baby, or you’ll make yourself sick.” Peter nodded in agreement, and then the straw was back at his lips, he sipped it slowly, grateful for the way the cool water soothed his throat.

“I can’t thermoregulate.” The words were clear but still slurred, Peter stopped making eye contact with him, staring down at the covers in his lap. His eyes were beginning to grow heavy again, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes shut. His body slumping down into the bed, he could hear Tony calling his name before he gave up, muttering words under his breath along the lines of:

“We’re gonna talk about this when you wake up.”

• —•

“Did he say anything to you when he woke up?” Bruce asked from where he sat at his desk in his lab, conducting the tests to find out why Peter got hypothermia.

Tony sighed, and then chuckled, “Boy did he say something, I’m gonna have to have a long talk with him as to why he decided not to tell me. He decided to enlighten me with the knowledge that he can’t thermoregulate. I don’t understand why he can’t though.”

Bruce’s eyes widened at the declaration, before he sighed, “Well that explains it.”

“Explains what? Care to share with the class? Not all of us have seven PhD’s.” he added a dramatic eye roll to emphasise his point and exasperation with people not telling him things.

“It explains why Peter can’t thermoregulate, and why he managed to develop hypothermia. You see spiders are cold blooded, unlike us. So the spider that bit Peter, was cold blooded too, and therefore would not need to thermoregulate. Whereas, us humans do need to thermoregulate, because we’re warm blooded. And obviously when Peter’s DNA merged with the spider, Peter’s body stopped thermoregulating. Meaning, his body will no longer serve to protect him from cold environments, his body will attempt to match the cold temperatures he’s in. Peter’s body has stopped trying to protect him, he’s going to have to be very careful when he’s in the cold from now on.” Bruce’s face was deathly serious, hand already  coming up to pat Tony on the shoulder, “We’re just lucky we found out now and not later, at least we can do something to help him now. But don’t go too hard on him when he wakes up, he’s still healing.”

“I’ll go easy on him for now, but when he’s better again, he’s getting a real ass kicking.” Tony’s face held no room for argument, set in his ways to have a go at Peter. But Bruce knew that Tony just used his angry and frustrated demeanor as a disguise for the pure terror and worry he was hiding inside. 

Bruce chuckled, “Somehow i don’t see you overpowering and kicking a mutant super powered spider teenager’s ass.”

“Ugh you know what I mean.” he rolled his eyes with such exasperation, Bruce thought his eyes would have rolled into his head. But that didn’t stop Bruce from laughing his ass off at Tony’s expense. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t kill yourself laughing, remember to breathe at some point.” he turned and exited the room as quick as he could, not wanting to stay for the rest of the humiliation.

• —•

Tony couldn’t deny that Peter looked undoubtedly peaceful and heart warmingly adorable when he slept. Curls a tangled mess falling down into his eyes as he snuffled into the pillow, curling his arms around the rather large teddy bear that Bruce had managed to wiggle into his arms as he slept. Peter changed preference though, deciding the soft fur was a better place to put his head, and so he smushed his face into the bear. Tony was a smidge away from getting up into that bed and snuggling with his son protege. The teddy bear wasn’t a normal one though, it was a heatable one. Peter needed all the warmth he could get. Tony had made the quick internal decision that some extra body heat would be helpful to the kid, that’s the only reason he’s now lifting a leg to lean onto the edge of the bed, completely ready to snuggle the kid within an inch of his life.  

He’s caught out though, when the kid suddenly turns his head roughly, mumbling something about robots and flying monkeys, before he blinks his baby brown’s open, instantly squinting them shut against the second onslaught of light of the day. “Mph, Mr. Stark?”

“The one and only kid.” he halts in his movements, awkwardly leaning against the side of the bed, trying to style it out he stretches a hand out, wading his fingers through Peter’s chocolate brown locks. “How’re you feeling bud?”

Peter shuts his eyes for a few seconds, pulling the covers up to his chin and snuggling into the extra warmth they provide. “I dunno, I feel a little tired, is that normal to feel tired after you get hypothermia?”

“I would guess so, seeing as you slept for almost two days straight.” he arches an eyebrow, authoritatively. 

“Oh.” Peter’s face turns pink, completely shocked that he’d managed to sleep that long. “I guess that explains it then.”

“It sure does spider baby. Now, wanna tell me why you thought it was a great idea to keep from me, the knowledge that you can’t thermoregulate?” His eyes bore into Peter’s skull, not giving Peter the option to wriggle his way out of the conversation.

Peter shrinks back from Tony’s intimidating stare, “I’m sorry Mr. Stark, I just, I didn’t really think it mattered. I have it handled, the only reason anything went wrong is because the heater in my suit went bust.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault? My fault you decided not to tell me, and almost kill yourself?” The sarcasm and anger filled his tone, his voice raised ever so higher than normal.

“No! No, that’s not what I meant. I ran the heater for too long and it shorted out, it’s my fault. I didn’t tell you, and I should’ve, I’m sorry.” Tears welled up in his eyes, from the shame and worthlessness he felt swirling in his gut.

Tony shook his head, a mask of sympathy and adoration shrouded his features. “It’s ok bambino, you gave me a real big scare. You can’t do that, you know, I have a heart condition.”

Peter chuckled at Tony’s joke, “Sorry.”

“Shh, it’s ok, just tell me next time. I need to know how to protect you. If you don’t tell me, how can I protect you?” Tony’s face was a picture of seriousness. 

“W-what if I didn’t need you to protect me?” 

The silence that followed was tense, Peter waiting for an answer. He didn’t know whether he was going to like it. 

A sigh, sad and tired. “You might not need me to protect you, but sometimes, everyone needs protection from someone. Even the strongest of people. But when it comes to you Pete, if I can protect you, you better believe i’m damn well gonna.” 

Peter sighed, giving in. “Okay.” 

“That easy huh?” 

Peter ignored the childish and goofy smirk on Tony’s face. “Whatever, i’m going back to sleep. You can stay or you can go.” He rolled over, pulling the bear in and hugging it tight. 

Tony smiled at the innocence Peter showed, snuggling a teddy bear while he slept, or tried to start sleeping. Tony couldn’t hold back this time, slipping himself onto the bed behind Peter, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and pulling him. “Come on Pete, turn over.” He groaned but obliged none the less, smiling up at his father figure before forgoing the bear altogether. Wrapping his arms around Tony and shoving his face ungracefully into Tony’s chest. Tony thought he managed to hear a muffled thank you before he himself fell asleep. A snuggled spider baby stuck to his shirt. He would realise that in the morning, when he went to get a cup of coffee, only to realise that Peter was completely stuck to his chest. 

He had to admit, It wasn’t a burden at all, carrying a surprisingly light Peter into the kitchen and making himself a cup of coffee, all while stroking the top of Peter’s head.

Chapter Text

“Yo, Penis Parker!”

Peter sighed, another day filled with Eugene Thompson picking on him, another day of trying to hold the tears in as the words cut deep and harsh into his soul. He didn’t know how he’d managed to last this long, the pain and sadness it caused was overwhelming. But Peter had to remember to be strong, after all, if he didn’t take the poorly timed and executed jabs, someone else would. And he couldn’t let that happen, no one deserved this kind of pain, and besides, Peter could take it.

He did his usual trick of ignoring Flash, pacing slowly down the hallway towards the doors, completely ready to blow this popsicle stand. But a rough hand gripped his shoulders and attempted to pull him backwards. Peter avoided using his super strength, letting the hand pull him backwards until he lost his balance and crashed to the floor in a heap. Flash towered over him, staring unkindly down at him, he snarled, baring his pristinely white teeth, “I was talking to you dipshit.”

“Well I wasn’t listening.” Peter rolled his eyes expressively, completely shocked himself that he’d talked back. Knowing now he was probably gonna regret doing that.

“Oh, so it talks back now does it? Puny Penis Parker finally decided he was gonna stand up for himself huh? Well guess what, you’re gonna fucking regret that.” he lifted his foot, slamming it down on Peter’s chest, not hard enough to break a rib, but enough to bruise one. Peter grunted in pain, concealing the whimpers he wished he could let out. He didn’t catch a break though, before Flash began to kick. Every place he could find, not wanting to waste the canvas of skin he could bruise into blues and yellows and purples. Peter thought this was bad, the never ending excruciating pain, but then Flash’s goons stepped in, kicking and punching. Before they all decided they’d had enough, bored of beating Peter within an inch of his life. “You’re not worth it.”

Peter couldn’t have been more relieved when they walked away, leaving him, lying on the floor and watching as they walked off. The pain was fading, the bruises slowly healing, an advantage of being spiderman, no-one could see the bruises, because there never were any. There was still an ache that stayed throughout his body, he didn’t know if it was just the emotional pain, or just his body still trying to heal.

Peter ignored it, pushing up off the ground once he was sure flash and his buddies had left the building. He limped toward the exit; the double doors were like a beacon of light in a dark forest, the last morsel of food in a baron deserted land. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief and delight as he pushed the doors open with his shaking hands, Happy’s car was just in view, parked right in front of the doors to the school, blacked out windows firmly shut, the shining body of the expensive car glistening beautifully in the sun. Peter could not have been happier than he was now. He stumbled jerkily and clumsily towards the car, thankful that no-one was around to see him get into a very expensive car. The door clicked open almost silently underneath his hand, he smiled in delight when he heard Happy grumble “Hurry up, I don’t have all day.”

Peter couldn’t be bothered to care that Happy was upset with him, he was just happy to see a familiar face, someone who cared about him. He smiled as brightly as he could muster, shuffling into the back of the car and plonking himself right in the middle on the back seat. In a perfect view of Happy, the divide momentarily open. He knew it would be shut in a matter of minutes, but that didn’t bother him. “Hey Happy, how was your day?”

“Fine, now shush, we gotta get going. Tony’s in a particularly happy mood today and he ordered me to get you there as quick as possible.” Happy sounds annoyed at that, but Peter couldn’t be happier. Tony wants to see him, he wants to see him most days, but he must want to see him more today than he usually does. Peter seals his lips, taking heed of what Happy told him, not daring to speak if it were to annoy Happy. After all, the man is going out of his way to drive through rush hour traffic to deliver him to a tower 8.5 miles away. He chooses to shuffle to the side, plonking his bum on the side seat, so he has the perfect view of the tall buildings and the grumbling cars as they drive past. It’s boring and doesn’t entertain his attention for very long, it all lulls him into a light slumber, not fighting the ache in his joints and the tiredness seeping into his bones.

•—•

“Kid”

“Kid!”

“Pete!”

“Peter!”

Peter gasps, slapping the hand away that had gently shaken his shoulder. “Wha?” He blinks, opening his eyes and staring owlishly at who the hand belongs to. It’s Tony. The man he admires more than his own life force. And he slapped his hand.

“Oh my god. I-i’m so sorry Mr. Stark! I-i didn’t mean to. I was just asleep, and I didn’t expect anyone to touch my shoulder, I had no idea you were gonna do that. I totally didn’t mean to slap your hand, did I hurt you? Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry!! I didn’t mean to, I di-“

“Woah, calm down kiddo, it’s ok.”

Peter could already feel the tears springing to his eyes, pricking at his eyelids, but he refused to let them fall. He couldn’t look weak in front of his hero, instead he breathed deep, not letting the sadness overwhelm him. But he was clearly fighting a losing battle, the tears having already broken the dam, now falling at an inexplicable speed down his flushed cheeks. He gasped, sobbing so hard his body didn’t give him enough time to breathe.

He feels an arm slide behind his back, his body being moved sideways across the sofa he now realises he’s sitting on. He feels himself being pulled close to a firm chest, body still shaking. The arm still wrapped around his back tightens, fingers clenching around his hip. The next thing he knows is a weight on the sofa next to him, and he’s being pulled onto the lap of the person whom the chest belongs to. His head being pulled into the chest, he goes with it, tears soaking the shirt underneath his ear. He finds it oddly calming though, hearing the hum of the arc reactor, finally realising that it’s Tony’s lap he’s sitting on. It makes him stiffen, tears instantly drying up. He jerks, trying to pull away from the limbs trying to hold him close.

“Shhh kiddo stop, it’s ok, just let it out.” Tony’s hand cards through his hair, brushing the chocolate locks back from his forehead and cupping the back of his head. Peter gives in, body sagging, loose limbed and limp. He sniffles, tears already having slowed, he just burrows his head into Tony’s chest. Voice cracking as he whispers his apology to his mentor’s breast.

“I-i’m s-sorry.”

Tony shushes him, stroking a hand gently down the side of his face and cupping his neck. He places a gentle kiss on his crown, squeezing him gently in his arms. Peter just settles into Them, breathing heavily and sniffing in the smell of motor oil and coffee. It’s the smells Peter had always associated with Tony, and now it just proves how right he was. It makes him smile, Tony’s a mechanic, but even though the smell of motor oil isn’t the most pleasant, it’s calming, and Peter can’t help but think it must be calming to Tony too.

They sit there for a while, Peter slowly calming down in Tony’s hold. Once Tony decides Peter must be fully relaxed, he grips Peter’s shoulders. Pushing him gently up and away from his chest, carefully turning him around until he’s sat sideways on his lap. He puts his hand on the back of Peter’s neck, tilting his head up gently until Peter’s face is in view. Peter refuses to meet his eyes, instead looking straight past him. Tony sighs, stroking his thumb softly across Peter’s cheek. “Look at me Pete.”

Peter complies, meeting his eyes reluctantly, his eyes are red and puffy. A stray tear escapes his eye once more, Tony’s thumb is quick to swipe it up. Peter sniffles, “I-i’m sorry Tony.” He nuzzles his head into Tony’s hand, eyes lowering back to his lap once more.

“It’s ok bambino, wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Tony strokes an arm up Peter’s back, pulling him in until his head is resting on his chest again.

Peter just shakes his head, pushing back and wriggling his way off Tony’s lap. He sits next to Tony, elbows resting on his knees head in his hands. “It’s nothing, I'm fine. I’m just tired.”

“You sure? You know you can tell me anything right?”

“I know. I’m sure.” He doesn’t meet Tony’s eyes, instead he leans back into the sofa, slowly tilting sideways until they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder. They sit for a while, until Peter yawns, breaking the spell of silence. Tony glances sideways just in time to see Peter’s eyes shut, head falling to Tony’s shoulder. A soft snore lets loose, letting Tony know that Peter had managed to fall asleep within a few minutes. He must be exhausted Tony thinks, he wraps an arm behind Peter’s back, hooking another underneath his knees. He stands up, carefully holding Peter in his arms, careful to not wake him up. Peter only shifts, snuggling his ear into Tony’s chest. Tony smiles down at him, slowly carrying him towards Tony’s monstrous bed in his room.

When they get there, Tony lays him down, Peter instantly burrowing down into the soft and cushiony mattress. Tony slips in beside him, pulling Peter into his chest and smirking when Peter wraps his limbs around him like a clingy octopus. Peter looks so peaceful in his sleep, curls a fluffy mess and eyes red and puffy. Even though he looked sad, he still looked peaceful, all the stress lines now relaxed. Tony was happy, because Peter was happy. He stroked the stray locks of hair back from his forehead, stroking a gentle hand down Peter’s cheek. Peter didn’t stir, just snored on quietly, and soon Tony felt himself falling asleep too.

•—•

Peter was glad when he’d got out of the tower, the morning had been embarrassing to say the least. Realising the man he saw as father but still respected greatly, had let him sleep in his bed. He had blushed so hard Tony had chuckled, comparing him to a tomato. Peter had scoffed down his breakfast and darted out of there as quick as he could. He had school again, and even though he loved his lessons more than anything, he dreaded going into school. He always did, if Flash was there, he didn’t want to be. But he had to remind himself not to be scared, or to sulk about it. He could deal, and it wasn’t like Flash would get away with it for long. Someone would find out, or tell someone. Peter would get help. He hoped so.

It had never crossed his mind that he could tell Tony, but deep inside he wondered if Tony would be angry at him. For being so weak, for letting himself be so weak. Tony would disown him, for not being anything like Spider-Man, for being a wimp and letting someone who wasn’t even stronger than him, beat him up.

“Peter? You might want to listen, Mr Harrington is talking about the hadron collider again, and you know how much he loves that thing.”

Peter shook his head, clearing the fog from his mind, he dropped his arm from where it had been holding the pen at his mouth as he’d chewed the plastic. “Sorry Ned, he’s talking about it again? Haven’t we gone over it like five times already?”

“We’ve gone over it fifteen times, and ten of those you were staring into space. I remember because I had to sit through them too, and you didn’t answer any of my questions once. It’s a wonder I managed to catch your attention this time. Are you daydreaming about MJ again?”

“Yeah- yeah, that’s what it is.”

Ned’s face is a picture, mouth set in a straight line, not one part of his face shows that he believes a word Peter is saying. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah Ned, I’m fine.”

“Then dude you better listen to Mr. Harrington, I think he’s about to start asking questions.”

Ned was completely right, Mr. Harrington stopped speaking minutes after Ned spoke. He surveyed the classroom slowly, finally landing unfortunately on Peter.

“So, Peter, what do you think of the hadron collider?”

“Um, well, I think it’s a pretty cool invention, and I- yeah, I- i think it’s cool.”

Mr. Harrington didn’t look impressed but then it only took a couple of minutes for the nervous teacher to cave. “You guys are getting bored of this aren’t you?”

The question raised a collective sigh, all of the class staring up at him tiredly before Betty decided to speak up. “Yeah we are, we’ve been talking about this for weeks. Can’t we learn something new?”

“Fine.”

Peter didn’t remember the rest of the lesson.

•—•

He sat on the toilet seat, the door to the stall locked shut. His bag leant up against the bottom, carelessly thrown into the corner. Peter was staring infatuated at his Stark watch, the innocently hidden red button on the side, glaring Peter in the face. It was a panic button, even though Peter had never used it, and probably was never going to. It had been installed by Tony after he’d gotten hypothermia, Tony being paranoid and knowing how sneaky Peter was, made sure to install it and wrap the watch around his wrist himself.

The model is one that hasn’t been released yet, not that Tony would ever be releasing a watch with a panic button that links directly to Tony Stark himself. Or with an AI named Karen, directly connected to the Spiderman suit or a makeshift nanotech gauntlet (in times of need.) Peter felt lucky to have it, but he also felt a little annoyed, that Tony didn’t think Peter could protect himself. But that didn’t annoy him so much, loving how much Tony cared, and that he was only a button’s press away. It made him feel loved and cared for, something he felt himself needing lately.

He was knocked out of his musings by a bang, the door to the bathroom slamming open. He doesn’t make any decision to move, he stays sitting on the toilet, staring glumly at his watch. Until he hears expensive designer shoes clacking across the bathroom floor, a fist banging on the door. “Open up Penis, I’ve got some things I wanna talk to you about.”

Peter knows from both experience and the tone in Flash’s voice, he doesn’t plan on just talking.

He shuffles his bag out of the way of the door, plonking it on the toilet seat. Unlocking the door, he shifts it open, slipping through the gap and staring at the short bully standing in front of him. “What do you want Flash?”

Flash just smiles, crooked and paired with an evil glare in his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you Penis.” He cracks his knuckles, swiping the gelled tuft of hair at the front of his head out of the way. He smiles smugly, not giving Peter a chance to respond before he grasps a fist into the unruly curls atop Peter’s head. Pulling the strands painfully and sending a zinging pain through Peter’s scalp.

The fist moves, pulling Peter closer into Flash’s body, Flash shoves him to the floor. Before he bends down, crouching by Peter’s body, “I wanted to tell you how much of a stinky pile of crap you are, and that you should never talk to me, or look at me again.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

Pain pulses through his cheek, from the fist that cracks against his face. “I suggest you shut up, wise ass.”

Peter doesn’t say anything else, hardly moving from his sprawled out position on the floor. Until Flash moves him, pulling him up again by his hair, slamming his back into the wall. He refuses to make a noise, not letting Flash see his pain. The onslaught of pain doesn’t end, Flash only continues on. Pushing Peter roughly towards the stall of one of the toilets, he lifts Peter’s hand, opening the door and pushing his fingers up into the gap where the toilet door closes flush against the wall. Peter doesn’t see it coming, before Flash slams the door.

The crunch that resounds makes Peter shiver, his shout of pain echoing through the room. Flash just smirks, releasing the door from his grasp. Blood slips down Peter’s fingers, from where the sharp edge of the door broke his skin. He sinks to the floor, shuffling further into the stool and away from flash, squeezing himself in between the wall and the toilet. Flash advancing closer with each shuffle, he chuckles darkly. Crouching down towards him, he grasps Peter’s hair again, pulling him upwards harshly, their faces inches from each other. “You’re worth nothing, you’re just a useless orphan.”

Letting go, Peter drops to the floor, back connecting with the ceramic lip of the toilet. He groans, sliding bonelessly to the floor, eyes slipping shut. Until Flash’s hands grasp the sides of his hoodie, pulling him across the floor until he’s underneath Flash. Flash slides forward, straddling Peter’s waist. Eyes fluttering, Peter weakly stares up at flash, only to meet the unfiltering gaze of the flesh and bone of Flash’s fist. Then it meets his face, connecting with his cheek, his teeth bite into the inside of his mouth. The bitter tangy taste of blood, filling his mouth and pooling on his tongue. He only manages to spit out a small amount of blood onto the cold floor of the bathroom, before Flash’s fist connects again, right below his eye. He can feel the way the bone of his eye socket connects with the bone in Flash’s fist, making Peter whimper in pain.

Flash doesn’t stop punching, not letting up, even for a second. Punches landing on his stomach, on his chest, across his face. The bruises blooming on his eyes, and over his cheeks. He knows he’s cracked a rib, the pain in his chest already becoming too hard to bear. Flash keeps going, even when Peter can hear another rib crack, his breathing ragged. He tries to curl into himself, rolling away from the onslaught of punches. But Flash just goes for his back and his flank instead, tears flood his cheeks, whimpering, the pain never stopping.

All Peter can see is red, the plastic surface of the button glaring him in the face. Black spots dance at the edge of his vision, but he blinks them back, ignoring the rough pounding his back is enduring. He stretches his arm out weakly, fingers fumbling against the edge of his wrist. He stretches a horrifically angled in the wrong direction, throbbing finger towards the button, pressing weakly against it. It lights up, flashing bright and pulsing like a beam of hope in his vision. He knows it doesn’t mean Tony’s coming, he might not even receive the sos call, but Peter can hope.

“Please, stop.” The words are painful, escaping from his dry throat, voice cracking. He rolls weakly over, curling into a ball.

“I’ll stop, but not because you asked me to, but because you’re not fucking worth it.”

The punches stop, but Flash’s hand slides into his hair again, pulling him up by the chocolate soft strands. Peter goes with it, not enough strength to keep himself up and take off the strain on his hair. He just lets Flash hold him up by his hair, sneering into his face. “You’re nothing. Not even Tony Stark would give a fuck about you, you’re internship isn’t even true. You should stop spreading lies about that bullshit, or we might have to have another little chat.”

Flash releases him, Peter’s body dropping boneless and limp to the floor. He stares weakly at the floor, watching in his peripheral vision as Flash’s black shoes walk away. Heels clacking across the slick, white tiled floor. He hears the door slam, the sound echoing through the empty bathroom. Peter whines, a pathetic broken sound, something that ashames him and makes him cry. He sniffles, dragging himself across the floor with his good hand, shuffling slowly towards the door. He manages to raise his body mostly into a sitting position, fumbling his hand across the door and weakly pushing it open. He tries to pull himself through the door, but it doesn’t work, not having enough strength to do so. He flops bonelessly to the floor, half in and half out of the bathroom.

He can’t tell how long he lays there, gasping unsteady and raspy breaths into his battered chest. He can feel his body healing, incredibly, and excruciatingly slowly. Eyes staring unfocused and pain filled towards the floor of the school hallway. It doesn’t take long for him to pick up on the sound of Tony’s rushed footsteps, his sneakers squeaking across the floor. He raises his eyes, staring up at Tony, decked in a pair of jeans and a black sabbath t-shirt. Casual business jacket thrown on the top, iron man gauntlet covering his hand. Peter can see how fast he’s running, the desperation and worry on his face. “Peter!”

He reaches out a hand, this time it’s the injured one, blood smearing across the floor from where he reaches out towards his mentor. “D-dad.” It’s quiet and raspy, but Tony hears it, eyes instantly snapping in his direction. It only takes a matter of seconds before Tony is crouched by his side, iron man gauntlet pointed into the air around them, hesitantly searching for the culprit for why Peter’s so banged up.

“I’m here baby, what happened? Who did this to you?”

“F-flash.”

Tony’s face instantly darkens, “I’m gonna kill that little son of a bitch. Where the fuck is he?!”

Peter flinches backwards, “D-don’t, h-he’s not here. H-he’s i-in lesson. D-don’t hurt him, p-please.”

Sighing, Tony retreats the gauntlet. Gently leaning down and sliding his hands underneath Peter’s shoulders, he raises him up from the floor. Pulling him up until Peter’s back is leant against Tony’s chest. He slides him round, leaning Peter’s side into his chest. “Okay, okay, I won’t hurt him baby. You wanna tell me what he did though, huh?”

Peter nods, jerkily and slow. He moans afterwards, the muscles in his back stretching painfully once he does so. “He t-threatened me, he told me that you wouldn’t care about me and that my internship wasn’t real. He pulled my hair, and then h-he punched me in the face. He uh- he trapped my fingers in the door, i-i think he broke them. T-then he pulled my hair again, a-and then he started to punch me again. A-and i-i tried to roll over, b-but he kept going, a-and he wouldn’t stop. He hit my back over and over, a-and I think he broke a couple of my r-ribs. I-it hurts so much dad.”

“Oh baby, it’s ok bambino. It’s ok, i’m gonna make it okay, none of what he said is true. I care about you so much, I love you so much baby. You’re my son, and I love you so much, it doesn’t matter what that jealous little prick says, you’re my world baby. It’ll be ok, I'll make all of the pain go away.” Tony curls his hand into Peter’s chocolate locks. Smoothing the baby soft hair back, sweeping strands of hair out of Peter’s eyes and stroking up and down his back with his other hand.

Whining, Peter snuggles his head into Tony’s chest, breathing in Tony’s smell. Letting it comfort him, relax him.

“Shh, it’s ok. Let me just do something and we’ll get out of here ok baby.” Tony slides an arm around his back, another underneath his knees, slowly standing with Peter in his arms. “Did you bring your suit with you? Where’s your bag?”

“I-it’s in the bathroom, i-i didn’t bring my suit. I didn’t think i’d need it today.” Tony nods.

Peter can feel Tony walking, the occasional, bob up and down from each step. He glances up to see where they’re going and it’s surprising to see that they’re not going in the direction of the exit, instead they’re walking further into the school. Even though Peter would rather get out of here.

“W-what about my bag?”

“Shh, I’ll buy you another one.”

•—•

Tony doesn’t really know what he’s doing, or where he’s going. The only thing he knows, or thinks, is about how light Peter is. For someone so strong, he’s so light, Tony being able to walk without a problem. It’s not straining his back, making his knees ache or making his arms hurt. It’s like lifting a feather, it makes him happy, that it’s so easy for him to carry his son.

He walks past countless classrooms, not tiring in the slightest from peaking through the windows in the doors. Searching for the little twerp that beat his son up, he knows he’ll find him. Even if it takes him all day, he’ll find him.

It’s only when he’s gotten to the penultimate classroom of one of the hallways, when he notices Ned, sitting next to MJ, and an empty seat beside him. Where Peter should be. He recognises the scruffy bearded teacher as Peter’s teacher Mr. Harrington. And The boy he’s searching for, sitting in the front row. He doesn’t stop to think, or question his motives, or his decisions. He just raises a leg, kicking in the door, from where it wasn’t even shut. Just pushed up. All heads turn to stare at him, Tony Stark, and the precious cargo held safely in his arms. Bloody and bruised.

He hears multiple gasps of “Peter!” Obviously from his friends, seeing as no-one else in the class seems to give a shit about Peter, from what he’s heard about them. Flash’s face goes completely white, Tony can see him gulp. It gives Tony satisfaction, watching as all the students gasp his name, chattering amongst themselves about. “Oh my god is that Tony Stark?” “Oh and is he holding Peter?” “What happened to him?” “Tony Stark?” “What’s he doing here?”

It’s Mr. Harrington that directly addresses him, instead of using a whisper. It’s more of a broken and raspy tone, “Sir, um- is that Peter? And can I ask what you’re doing here? And why are you holding him?”

Chuckling darkly, Tony shushes Peter when he shifts in his arms, moaning weakly. “I’m holding my son in my arms because one of your students beat him up. And yes, this is Peter, and I'm here to take him home, and get him medical attention. But that’s not why i’m in this classroom.”

He walks carefully towards where Ned is sitting, Ned is quick to pull Peter’s chair out. Tony gently lowers him into it, Peter bonelessly sliding to the side, leaning all of his weight on Ned. “You stay right there sweetheart, I'll be right back.” Peter only weakly nods, not even opening his eyes.

Tony smiles once he’s sure Peter will be ok, making his way towards the front of the classroom, standing right in front of Flash’s desk. “Eugene Thompson, you are one spoiled little twerp. You think it’s ok to beat the shit out of my son, tell him I don’t love him, and that his internship isn’t even real?”

There’s no shouting involved, he speaks eerily calmly, just a hint of threat and anger laced in his tone. Flash just gulps even harder, his voice coming out squeaky like a mouse. “No.”

The chuckle Tony lets loose, makes everyone shiver, all of them hunching in on themselves. “Now I don’t think you mean that. Because you wouldn’t have done what you did, you wouldn’t have beaten my son nearly to a pulp. You see there’s a rule I have when it comes to my son, you don’t ever, ever beat my son up. Ever. You get me?”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Do you? Do you really? Hmm? Because I think I should make it just a little bit clearer for you.”

He moves from where he’s stood, slamming both palms viciously onto the desk Flash is sat at. Flash flinching backwards, face paling fast. “D-don’t hurt me sir.” He raises his palms, holding them up in front of his face in surrender.

All it does is make Tony chuckle, the same dark evil one he had earlier. “I’m not gonna hurt you, you’re not worth that. But I am gonna ruin and destroy your life, you see I have sway in all the major colleges and universities in the whole country. I can snap my fingers, and in seconds, no college or university in the whole country will ever let you step one little fucking step onto their campus. You get me. And there’s nothing you can do to get out of it, no amount of money your rich snob parents can pull up will be able to bribe them. And I'll have both you and your parents arrested the minute you try to skive your way out of it.”

He backs up, smirking smugly, happy to watch Flash start to cry, just like the pathetic little shit he is. Flash made his son’s life a living hell, beat him to shit and left him on the toilet floor. Just like Happy would, to a person who had tried to unsuccessfully take a hit out on Tony. (Surprisingly a lot of people tried to do that.) But Peter didn’t deserve to be left on a bathroom floor like he was worth nothing, he was worth more than Flash, worth more than every person in this classroom combined, even Tony Stark himself. Peter was so kind and so brave, that every person in this room should bow down to him. Peter was just that amazing, just that special.

Not sparing a second glance at the whimpering and sniffling boy at the front of the classroom, he makes his way to the back. Gently sliding his arms around his son and lifting him up, securly placing him into his hold. Peter instantly snuggling into him. He doesn’t know whether Peter heard the whole ordeal or not, but even if he wished Peter hadn’t, he’d find out anyway. He could only protect Peter so much.

He made his way out of the classroom, not looking at any of the other kids. He only had eyes for one kid, the one safely carried in his arms. He finally makes his way out of the school, shouldering them open without jostling the kid too much. He makes sure to use his earpiece to demand Friday to call Happy.

“Hey boss, what’s up?”

Tony could not be happier to hear Happy’s voice than he was right now. With all the adrenaline and anger rushing out of his body, leaving him shaky and really fucking glad Peter was so light or he would be dropping him right now.

“Could you come pick me and the kid up? We’re outside midtown tech, don’t ask, just come quick.”

“You know you don’t have to ask me, you literally pay me to pick you up.” He scoffs, laughing lightly at Tony before hanging up.

Tony sighs, glancing a look down at the child held securely in his grip. He’s still awake, barr the fact that his eyes are squinted up at him, one of them completely swollen shut but changing colour rapidly as he stares. It’s obviously healing, but the other injuries will obviously take more time to heal. Tony feels guilty, sad knowing that Peter’s gonna be in a lot of pain for a while, even with his healing abilities. He just hopes he can persuade Cho to give Peter some of the good stuff, keeping him doped up for most of the healing.

It only takes Happy ten minutes, Tony standing with his back leant against the brick wall outside the school. Peter doesn’t drift off once, still blinking owlishly up at him, face drawn in with pain. It makes Tony sad, knowing that his son is in pain, and that at this moment in time, there’s nothing he can do about it. But as soon as Happy gets there, he knows it won’t be too long until he can help Peter.

The car that pulls up is a black mustang, not the usual Rolls royce that he usually uses to pick Peter up. (Not that Tony would know that ;) ;)) (not that Tony is the one that personally sends them, and picks which would be best to look after his son ;))

Happy doesn’t make his way out of the car, so Tony takes it upon himself to walk towards the car. The door opens the minute he’s within a couple of inches of the door, he slides in gracefully for a man of his age. Before sliding Peter gently out of his arms, laying him down on the seat with his head in Tony’s lap. “We’ll be at the tower soon kiddo. Hang in there ok baby?”

All he gets is a hum, but it’s good enough for him. He pulls on his seatbelt, slapping the back of Happy’s seat, “Hit it Hap, get us to the tower as quick as you can.”

“You got it boss.”

•—•

It’s all a daze, from laying in the back of the car, his head rested comfortably on Tony’s lap. To getting out of the car, Tony’s arms shaking as he holds him while he runs through the tower lobby and into the elevator. Tony can’t exactly jam the button while Peter is in his arms, but thankfully Happy is surprisingly fast enough to keep up with them, and he does the rigorous button pushing for them. Making their way into the medbay, he remembers being laid onto a gourney. He remembers the prick in his arm, but after that, it’s just black, he remembers nothing else.

Until he wakes up, which is a slow and tricky process, but he finally manages to crack both eyes open, one of them having healed up enough that it’s no longer swollen. He doesn’t feel any pain, he’s blissfully numb, and he feels floaty. It’s a good feeling, and he’s glad that he’s doped up on the good stuff.

“Ah he wakes!”

“Mm?”

That’s all he’s capable of, slurred and mumbled humming. But he knows it’s Tony talking to him, he just doesn’t have the strength in his lips to utter full words. He licks his lips and tries again, thankfully the words are more clear now. “ ‘ony?”

“That’s right kid, how’re you feeling?”

“Meh.”

Tony chuckles, that would be the polite way of putting it, instead it’s more like guffaws, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. “That’s the best you could come up with?! Meh?!” Before he sobers up completely, the only evidence of his laughter, the wetness still on his eyelids. Tony sighs, the bags under his eyes only now becoming evident to Peter. “You really cut it close there kiddo.”

Peter blinks up at him, attempting to push himself up using his hands but pain lances through his broken fingers. He winces, landing back down on the bed, only to try again with his elbows but he doesn’t get very far. Until, Tony swoops in like the hero he is, gripping Peter carefully around the middle and hiling him up until he’s rested on the pillows. No matter how gently Tony does it though, it still hurts like a bitch. (Not that he would say that out loud.)

“H-how bad was it?”

“Bad.”

Peter nods, staring into Tony’s eyes. “He broke two of your fingers. He cracked your eye socket, he broke two of your ribs, he even cracked your collarbone. He bruised both of your lungs, and for most of yesterday evening and last night you were covered in bruises. But you’ve mostly healed those, you’re eye socket is still healing, same with your fingers and your collarbone. You should be fine by tonight.”

“That explains why they hurt then.” Peter sighs, leaning back into the bed and closing his eyes.

“How long has this been going on Peter?”

It makes Peter shoot up, eyes instantly flying open. “W-what makes you think he’s been doing this for a while? He hasn’t. No- nothing’s been happening.”

“Really?” Tony quirks an eyebrow, clearly showing that he’s done taking Peter’s shit.

“Fine.” Peter sighs. “It’s been happening for a couple years, he never really got that violent though, he usually just kicks me around a bit with his friends and before that, it was just verbal. It was fine though, I had it handled.”

“You had it handled? So you call having it handled, being beaten to a bloody pulp and not having enough strength even to walk. What makes you think you even had it a little bit handled? What made you think you were even remotely in control of that situation?” Tony’s face is filled with anger, but Peter can see the fear hiding behind it.

“I did. I-i know it was bad. But it was what had to happen. I’m Peter, i’m not spider-man, he was bullying me then, when i was just Peter, so even if i’m spider-man now, I can’t fight back, i’m just Peter. And even if I did fight back, he would get bored, and he would move onto someone else. But I can handle it, I have advanced healing, other people don’t. He could kill them, and it would be bad for them and for him, he could ruin his whole life, he doesn’t deserve that. It’s what I have to do.”

Tony stares at him for a long while, before he gives in, sighing. He pushes his chair forward, cupping Peter’s cheek and using his thumb to wipe away the tears that have fallen without Peter noticing. “You’re too kind for your own good kid. You don’t know how fucking proud of you I am.” He smiles, cupping the back of Peter’s head. He pulls him into his chest, wrapping an arm around his back and pulling him in. He presses a long kiss into Peter’s crown, before pushing him back and ruffling his head. Peter already reflexively going to push his hand away.

“This is the only time you get to get out of my lecture about not telling me about things. Because i’ve already dealt with it, and honestly, I’m just gonna hope you’ll listen to what i’m telling you to do. But there’s no hope in that really. But hey, it’s why I love you.”

“I-i love you too.”

“I know kiddo, now scoot over, i’m comin’ up.”

Peter shuffles across obediently, “Are you gonna do this every time I get hurt?”

“Yes, now shh, you need to sleep.” Tony slides onto the bed, laying next to Peter. He slides an arm around his waist and pulls him in. Peter rests his head on Tony’s chest, falling asleep to the hum of Tony’s arc reactor.

Chapter Text

He pushes his glasses up his nose with a firm finger, eyes blurring from lack of sleep. The magnified lenses doing nothing to help his sight. It’s when he misses the solder point for the fifth time, that he gives up. Letting the offending piece of equipment clatter to the worktop in a loud bang. He rips the glasses off his face, throwing them down next to the soldering iron. The cup of coffee sings to him from where it sits at the corner of his workbench. 

He takes a moment to inhale the rich sent after bringing it to his mouth. Before taking a gigantic sip as his eyes shut, it feels like it's instantaneous. The warm caffeine rich liquid, soothing the headache throbbing at his temples. He gulps the whole mugful down before there’s a quiet rapping at the workshop door. Ah, it must be the end of day. Just in time . He thinks. Peter’s head pops around the edge of the door, curls ruffled and eyes bulging tiredly from the bags under them. 

“You been getting enough sleep kid?” his voice is gruff from lack of use. How could i have not noticed that , the blue from the veins underneath Peter’s eyes stand out against the paleness of Peter’s face. The kid shakes his head weakly, before pushing the door open and waltzing in.

He stands right in front of him before setting him with a glare, it holds no heat. None of Peter’s glares do really, they could seemingly be comparable to that of a small puppy or a kitten. His glares are adorable, no matter how angry he is. “Have you?” He quirks an eyebrow, settling a sassy hand on his hip. They hold eye contact for a good while before Tony cracks. 

“Ok, you got me there kid. Any homework I should know about?” He sets the mug down on the counter before giving his kid his undivided attention. 

He gets a small smile for that, “Nothing I can’t do myself.” He slides his backpack off his shoulder and places it by the side of the workbench. He perks up when he sees the unfinished project sitting on the workbench. It's not too hard to notice the fact that he’s buzzing with excitement. “Are you gonna do that?” 

He waves a dismissive hand. “Nah, you can do it if you want. I’m done for the day. You finish it up and then we can go watch a movie.”

The kid moves with the speed of a bullet, sidling up to the bench and getting to work. Tony leaves him to it, walking to the other side of the room to pick up his phone. He scrolls through the countless emails he’s built up in only a couple of hours, checking for which ones are important. It’s tiring and boring, and it makes his head pound with renewed vigour. He listens mindlessly to the sizzle of hot metal and the quiet shuffling of Peter’s feet. 

He’s almost down to the last couple of emails, when he hears the soldering iron hit the worktop. Peter’s sneaker clad feet prancing across the workshop until he can feel the presence of the teen at his back. Glancing over Tony’s shoulder, he leans against the counter next to Tony. “Watcha doing?”

His vision goes fuzzy just at the right time, he shakes it clear before tucking his phone into his pocket. “Just boring emails, you finished?” The kid just nods his head, following closely behind when Tony walks back over to assess his work. It’s good, really good . Tony can’t help but be impressed by his kid, he’s always amazing him. He pats him appraisingly on the shoulder, “Well done kid. You wanna go get into your PJ's while I order the pizza?”

“ OK Dad.”  He bounds off like an excitable puppy, hair flopping as he leaves the room. Tony sighs, a warm smile glowing brightly on his face. He’s glad that it’ll just be him and Peter, with the Avengers off on missions. He likes the quiet and the simplicity and domesticity of hanging out with his kid. He’s even more glad that Peter’s relaxed into calling him dad, it makes him happy to know that Peter feels the same way. That he sees him as a good dad. It’s all he could’ve asked for. 

⎊🕷⎊🕷⎊🕷⎊

He sets the phone on the coffee table, before standing up to walk to the kitchen in order to get them drinks. He gets a cool can of soda from the fridge, and setting it on the counter. He stares longingly at the cupboard filled with malt whiskeys and scotches. But he dismisses the idea, he didn’t decide to go 7 months sober for the kid only to backtrack because of a small headache. Instead he goes straight for the coffee machine, pouring himself a large amount into a big mug. 

As soon as he’s settled the pot back in its holder, socked feet shuffle into the room. He turns, holding both drinks. He takes in the t-shirt depicting “i survived new york” and the hello kitty trousers, before smiling widely at the kid’s choice of pyjamas. “You still kept those?”

Peter looks at him like he’s mad. “Of course I did, these were like the first thing you ever bought me. These are like even better than getting your autograph.” He looks deeply offended, holding a small hand up to his chest in mock hurt. 

“You do remember the fact that I made you a multi-million dollar suit right?” Tony quirks a brow whilst walking towards the couch, setting the two drinks onto the coffee table. 

Peter settles into the couch next to him, legs crossed. “Yeah well, you can't exactly go around flaunting a spider suit that Tony Stark made for you. Otherwise it wouldn't be a secret identity would it?” 

“It’s hardly a secret Identity at this point is it, your scary girlfriend MJ tells me you all but shout it out when you're talking to Ned. You’re not really good at keeping things quiet.” He pats him on the shoulder, smiling teasingly at the kid.

He just ignores him, picking up the soda and popping it open. He doesn’t take a drink, instead returning it to its earlier position on the table. “Well I learnt from the best.” Peter scoots back on the couch, out of range of the hand Tony stretches out to hit upside the head. He giggles playfully, smiling wide and childish. 

“You little shit.”

 Peter just giggles in response, completely jumping off the couch by somersaulting over the back and landing neatly on his feet. “I’m gonna go pee, but you completely deserved that.” He turns around, all but skipping down the hallway towards the bathroom. 

Tony sits there, completely unfazed by the events that occured, but he chuckles, fond of Peter’s childish antics. The elevator dings, the second after he’s finished almost half of his mug of coffee. Interrupted in his guzzling of the precious fluid. One of his employees, decked out in a crisp grey business suit steps out. Holding five pizza boxes, he doesn’t look all that happy. None of his employees do when they have to resort to either going out to pick up food, or delivering it to the penthouse. But they get paid handsomely, and it’s not Tony’s obligation to make them all happy. He just likes to make sure his kid is happy.

The man steps forward, laying the boxes neatly on the coffee table. “Here you go Mr. Stark.” He smiles tightly before backing his way out of the penthouse, the elevator doors shutting behind him. Tony takes a moment to breathe in the scent of the greasy food, before he opens the box and takes a slice. He’s happily munching his way through the slice, when he hears soft footsteps padding down the hallway. 

He hears the kid come into the room, then the low vicious growl of his stomach. The footsteps stop abruptly, somewhere behind him. He expects the kid to round the couch and sit next to him, but he doesn’t move. Tony turns slowly, taking in his kid. His face is pale, deathly so. All colour zapped from his complexion, he looks dizzy and his eyes don’t land on anything. Tony jumps from the sofa just in time for the kid’s eyes to roll into his head, body slowly slumping to the floor. 

Tony vaults over the back of the couch, sliding an arm around Peter’s waist before he can tumble to the floor. “Pete?” He doesn’t respond, his head lolling limply on his shoulders, the whites of his eyes exposed. Tony’s heart pounds, panic ripping ruthlessly through his body. He scoops Peter up, racing him round to the couch and laying him down. He takes the cushions from the back and props Peter’s feet atop them. 

He taps Peter’s cheek a few times, willing him into consciousness. But when that doesn’t work, he rubs his knuckles into his sternum, watching his face like a hawk. Taking in any change in his expression, it takes a good few minutes before Peter’s brow crinkles. One eye cracking open before the other follows suit. “What happened?”

Air leaves him in a relieved sigh, breath whooshing from his lungs. “You scared the shit outta me kid. What did you do? Did you get hurt on patrol?” he doesn't wait for a response, instead feels carefully down the boys sides, searching for wounds. He’s about to move onto his legs, when a hand flops down over his. 

“Stop.” He obeyed the weakly spoken order, retreating his hands back to his sides. He watches worriedly as Peter shuts his eyes for a few seconds, his pale face whitening even further when he sniffs. 

“What’s wrong?” He brushes his kid’s hair back, sliding the soft and fluffy curls from his forehead. 

Peter just smacks his lips, slowly turning his head to gaze at the pizza box open on the table. He seems to shake himself out of the stupor he puts himself in, shifting his gaze back to Tony. “I just, h-haven’t eaten anything since lunch. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Well, I don’t think that would make you pass out. So what is it?”

Peter seems to visibly shrink at that, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to disclose that information. But as Tony watches, his piercing gaze doesn’t leave room for Peter to hide. Peter sucks in a deep breath, before he slumps. Giving into the realisation that he has to admit to what’s wrong. 

“Well you see, I have like, an enhanced metabolism. I think. Because I, you know, heal faster. Which means I have to eat more. So I kinda have like, a system. Where I eat every hour. And I guess I forgot?” He shrinks backwards into the couch, eyes as wide as saucers and his body minutely shaking. Whether it’s from the lack of food, or from the fear. It doesn’t sit well with Tony. 

He can’t swallow down the relieved sigh that escapes, head now surprisingly too heavy to hold up. He lets it rest on Peter’s chest, just spending a moment to compose himself and listen to the steady beating of Peter’s heart. To feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, lungs expanding with every breath. He can relax for a moment not thinking that Peter’s deathly ill, and going to die. He takes a firm breath, lifting his head up, straightening out his shirt and exuding confidence. 

“Well, I think we can save the lecture. I don’t think you want me droning on at you. But I’m thinking you understand why I’m frustrated at you. Which is why I'm gonna let you off, if this happens again though. We will definitely be having words, you understand?”

Peter nods timidly in response, “Yes Dad.”

“Good, now let’s say we get some pizza in you.”  He scoops the cushions out from underneath Peter’s feet, stuffing them gently underneath his head instead and propping him up. His face goes slightly pale at the movement of his head, but it fades after a few seconds. Tony makes sure to wait until Peter’s comfortable before he raises the can of soda to Peter’s lips. Holding it firmly and with a hand on the back of Peter’s head while Peter takes a couple of sips. He hands Peter a slice of pizza, whilst taking one for himself. 

They settle into a comfortable rhythm, eating pizza whilst feeding off of the other’s presence. It’s peaceful and domestic and more than Tony could ever ask for. Once they’ve finished the pizza, and settled in for a movie. Tony having wriggled himself onto the couch, with Peter’s feet on his lap. He turns his head to look at Peter, taking in the fact that Peter’s nodded off. Head resting on the arm of the sofa. 

He makes Friday stop the movie, scooping his kid into his arms and carrying him in the direction of Tony’s bedroom. He nestles him underneath the expensive silky covers, head resting on the fluffy pillows. The most expensive pillows Tony’s probably ever bought. Peter snuggles in like he belongs, not aware of where he is or who’s bedroom he’s in. Just pulls gently at the covers, wrapping himself in the soft fabric. Tony smiles widely, before getting in himself, making himself comfortable. He pulls the kid into his side, resigning himself for an early night. Something he’s probably never done. But he’d do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant his kid was happy. 

Chapter Text

Tony lifted a hand, swiping off the last bit of condensation from the inside of the cabin window. Peering through the now mostly clear glass, he watched the sun rising up over the horizon. It was calming, staring out into the garden of a morning while he waited for Peter to wake up. He was glad they’d decided to take a break and move down to the cabin that Tony had bought for vacations. Pepper couldn’t come, but she’d wished them a happy break, telling them they’d need it after the past couple of months. 

He couldn’t hear any movement from the bedroom, it was completely silent. It was peaceful, but it was even more peaceful when Peter was up. As much as Peter’s endless chatter and energetic rambling would seem like it was far from peaceful, to Tony it was the most peaceful. It made any room you were in, happy and brighter, and calm. Peter had that kind of presence, he was a bundle of joy, and Tony couldn’t help but miss him in the mornings, or late at night. 

He jolted himself out of his thoughts, stepping back from the frosty window to walk to the kitchen. He set about making him and Peter some pancakes. It didn’t take too long, and it was nice to cook with the room slowly brightening from the early morning sun. He put both his and Peter’s in the oven, keeping them warm while he waited for the latter to get out of bed.

He settled himself comfortably on the couch in the middle of the main room. Starkpad in his hand, he set to work on the schematics for the next mark for his iron man suit. The tv on in the background, sounds down low in order to fill the room with anything but quiet. He couldn’t quite explain it, but the quiet unsettled him. He guesses it could be from his small venture into space. It was so disturbingly quiet, watching the chitauri ship explode, but no noise to follow with it.

He still has nightmares about that day, so many of them. But at least he’s got Peter to help him deal with them.

Tony quite happily works in the almost silence for up to two hours. It’s only when it’s verging on 11:00 in the morning that he drags his eyes up to the corner of the screen to take in the time. Realising rather quickly that it’s quite late, and Peter is no closer to being up yet. He hasn’t heard an ounce of movement, no noise in any shape or form resounding from Peter’s room. 

It fills him with dread, mind conjuring up a million different scenarios of Peter being dead or hurt or kidnapped. He pushes them down, locking them into the recesses of his mind. He knows he’s not being rational, that Peter’s probably completely fine and just deciding to sleep in. But he knows for a fact that Peter’s an early bird. His biological clock wakes him up well before eleven. 

That’s what pushes Tony’s body up from the sitting position he’d made himself comfy in. Plopping the Starkpad down onto the coffee table and making his way down the hall to Peter’s room. The door is pushed firmly shut, something Tony remembers doing the night before. After their night of watching a marathon of Star Wars movies, he’d followed Peter in and jokingly tucked him in. Peter giggling childishly the whole time, but happy nonetheless.

He pushes it open gently, not wanting to disturb the boy if there really is nothing wrong. Everything seems normal, when he steps into the room. That is until he sees Peter curled up in the midst of what looks like a half made cocoon. Spider webs covering almost every inch of the bed, it seems as though Peter had tried to make one but failed rather immensely. It makes Tony worry when he steps closer to the bed, to see that Peter’s breathing has lowered a considerable amount.

He places a firm hand on Peter’s shoulder, shaking him roughly. “Peter?” He doesn’t get a response, Peter moving limply with the pressure Tony applies. His body flops, no rigidity, as if he’s not even in control of his own body. He shakes Peter for a couple of minutes, his shouts and cries for Peter to wake up becoming increasingly more frantic. It’s only when he realises that Peter isn’t going to wake up, that he decides to call Rhodey. Knowing he needs the support before he calls Bruce. 

“Fri, call Rhodey would you?”

“Of course Sir.”

He slumps into the chair at Peter’s bedside, breath ragged and heartbeat unstable. He knows he’s panicking, he can’t even hear anything around him. It’s only when he realises that someone’s shouting his name that he snaps out of it. “ -Tony!”

“Huh?” He questions, as he tries to regain his composure. Knowing he has to remain strong for Peter. 

Rhodey’s voice pipes up from the speaker installed in the walls. “You called me Tony. You’re panicking, what’s wrong?”

“P-peter won’t wake up. I was just working on my next suit and I realised it was almost eleven so I decided to go try and wake Peter up. But then I went in and he was covered in webs and now I can’t wake him and his breathing is weak. And he won’t wake up-“

“Tony, breathe.”

Tony breathes. It’s more like gasping, but he does as he’s told. “Yeah, yeah, that- that sounds like a good idea.” His words are raspy and weak, lungs still gasping large uneven breaths but slowly calming. 

“Okay, that’s good. You’re doing good. Just keep breathing. I’m gonna come over okay?” Rhodey’s voice is calm and collected. There’s still the worry laced in his tone, but he remains calm, keeping his composure. 

Tony spends a couple of minutes breathing, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He keeps a hand wrapped around Peter’s wrist, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. He manages to calm down mostly, the only sign he was panicking, his rapidly beating heart. “OK, just- just come quick. I’m gonna call Bruce.”

“Yeah, ok. I’ll be there soon. Just keep breathing, he’ll be fine.” The line disconnects rather quickly, Tony taking the opportunity to ask Friday to call Bruce. Waiting for the familiar click of the line connecting before Bruce’s voice fills the room.

“Tony?”

“Could you come over? T-to the cabin, I can’t wake Peter up. S-something’s wrong.” Even Tony can hear the shake in his voice, he can feel the tremors in his hands. Bruce can obviously sense his panic, from the stuttering and the shake in his words. 

“Yeah, yeah ok. You doing alright? You sound pretty shaken.” Bruce’s voice is filled with concern, his tone soft and calm. 

“Yeah, yeah, i’m good. Just- just get here.” He doesn’t wait for a response, calling out for Friday to end the call. Tony can’t help but notice how still Peter is, his chest moving only a fraction. If he wasn’t holding Peter’s wrist and feeling his steady pulse, he would’ve thought Peter was dead. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there, tears prickling at his eyes as he watches Peter lying unconscious in the bed. Before he hears a moderately loud bang on the door to the cabin, he doesn’t want to leave Peter but he knows he has to. Hurrying as fast as he can, he strides to the front door. Swinging it open with the force of the Iron Man suit, Rhodey stands behind the door. Dressed in blue jeans, a grey t-shirt that says “War Machine rocks.” And a brown leather jacket. 

“Get in here.” He doesn’t waste time with formalities, strutting back from the door and into Peter’s room. The sound of the door banging and the thudding of boots on a wooden floor echoes behind him. 

He makes his way to his earlier spot, lowering himself harshly into the seat. Rhodey steps in, an aura of determination radiating from him. “So what’s wrong with him?”

“I-i don’t know. I wish I did.” He can’t hold the tears back anymore, letting them flow down his cheeks. He curls his arms around his torso, gripping his sides harshly as he sobs. His friend just wraps his arms around him, pulling him in firmly and letting Tony rest his head on Rhodey’s chest. It’s comforting, and Tony can’t bring himself to care about how this would normally be awkward. 

Rhodey waits patiently for him to calm down, holding him together with his arms. Tony doesn’t know what he would do without Rhodey here to support him. He’s the best friend he could have asked for, strong and unknowingly kind. They’re knocked out of the moment by the front door opening with a click, obviously Friday’s doing, because Bruce steps through it. 

He’s holding a large briefcase, barely held shut with metal clasps. He’s wearing a messy business suit, shirt untucked and a white lab coat over the top. In Tony’s opinion, Bruce has never looked better.

In his usual, hesitant fashion, Bruce hurried his way across the cabin. “How’s Peter doing?”

“He hasn’t changed, he’s just asleep. But he won’t wake up, and he’s breathing slower than he should be.” Bruce nods at that, placing his briefcase on the bedside table once he’s shuffled in through the doorway. He pulls open a stethoscope and other instruments. All things Tony’s never seen before, considering he majored in electrical engineering not biochemistry or medical engineering. 

Peter remains still, completely, deathly still. Even when Bruce lifts his shirt, and goosebumps rise across Peter’s chest. He listens to Peter’s heartbeat for a minute, checking his pulse. He listens to Peter’s slowed breathing. Making notes the whole time in his coffee stained notebook. He fiddles around with all of the machines, performing multiple tests that Tony doesn’t pay attention to. Just stares at Peter’s pale face, and flushed cheeks from the cold. 

He’s drawn away from his gazing at Peter, by Bruce stepping back from the bed and shaking his head. “Well I can’t really know for sure what’s wrong with him. He’s not in a coma, but his heart rate has slowed down significantly and so has his breathing. It’s not hypothermia, even though his body temperature has dropped to 60 degrees. They’re all symptoms of hibernation, but as far as we know. Hibernation doesn’t exist in humans. So i’m stumped.”

“He’s part spider though, do spiders hibernate?” Rhodey asks. He’s now standing beside Tony, a firm hand on his shoulder. Squeezing periodically when he feels Tony start to tremble. 

Bruce contemplates the idea for a few moments, tilting his head in concentration. “It is possible, we shouldn’t be unconcerned though. I think we should have Friday monitor him so we can see if he gets progressively worse. If not we should just leave him to sleep, and hope he wakes up from whatever this is. There isn’t really much I can do, especially if we’re going on speculation.”

Nodding Tony stands, dragging his chair across the floor until he’s sat right next to Peter’s bed. “I’ll watch him for a while.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Maybe you should go and have breakfast first, I'm sure he’ll be fine.” Rhodey says. 

If looks could kill, the glare Tony sends Rhodey’s way definitely would. Rhodey doesn’t falter, just stares right back. “I’m not leaving his side, we don’t even know if it is hibernation. I won’t leave him, he could be dying for all we know.”

His friend just sighs, giving in and walking towards the door. “I’ll go find some more blankets then, and maybe a hot pack.”

⎊🕷⎊🕷⎊🕷⎊

Tony doesn't leave Peter’s bedside, not for one second. He’s quite happy to annoy Rhodey, and to make him bring in all of his meals. Which Tony quite pointedly doesn’t eat. It’s when it gets to almost a week that his body finally gives up, unable to stop his slow descent to the floor, vision quickly fading. 

He wakes up in his bed, an IV line stuck in his arm. He doesn’t intend to stay there for long, so he doesn’t. Ripping off the sheets and striding to the door, the IV line being ruthlessly dragged out of his skin. Blood swelling in the place where it used to be. He doesn’t stop to greet his friends who are sitting at the kitchen table, Rhodey with his head in his hands, and Bruce who’s fiddling with his glasses whilst staring at a starkpad. He just strides into Peter’s room, feeling rather well rested. He thanks his friends for that, but he doesn’t do it out loud. Instead too concerned with sitting at Peter’s bedside.

The first thing he notices is that Peter hasn’t moved, not one inch. Still in the same place huddled in soft blankets and a heat pack tucked in the middle. His cheeks are still flushed, his breathing the same. Tony can already feel the tears sliding down his cheeks, hear the sobs as he finally breaks. Knowing that no matter how much he watches Peter, no matter how much he wishes for Peter to wake up.

It won’t happen.

He senses Bruce and Rhodey come in, both of them placing a hand on each arm. He goes with them when they pull him up, stumbling unsteadily out of the room. He lets them pop the IV back in, and lay him back down in his bed. He falls asleep, not fighting it’s dark grasp any longer. 

⎊🕷⎊🕷⎊🕷⎊

He goes back into Peter’s room the next day, Bruce having taken the IV out. He only stays there for half an hour, knowing there’s no point in wasting away, stuck in a chair by Peter’s bedside. He works in his lab, fixing things on the Iron Man suit, and upgrading Peter’s spider suit. He doesn’t smile once, he doesn’t even bother with drinking coffee. He just works. 

It’s verging on nighttime when he ventures back into Peter’s room. When he gets there the room is shrouded in darkness, so he orders Friday to turn the light on. It engulfs the room in artificial rays, illuminating the cute lump in the bed. Peter’s curly haired head popping out of the blankets from where it lays on the pillow. 

Even with all the stress and anxiety from worrying if Peter would wake up. He finds himself smiling at Peter’s curls, their unkempt nature and soft texture. He takes up his position beside Peter’s bed, stretching out a hand to stroke Peter’s fluffy locks. He sweeps a good portion off Peter’s forehead, halting it from falling into Peter’s eyes. He knows it won’t bother Peter, seeing as he’s deep in hibernation but it pleases Tony. Just to be able to see his kid's peaceful face.

He’s staring unabashedly at Peter’s face when it happens. Peter’s eye twitches, lashes fluttering. Tony’s chest swells with hope, that maybe Peter’s finally waking up. His hope is rewarded with another twitch, but this time in Peter’s hand. He doesn’t hesitate to fold his hand around Peter’s, cupping it gently and squeezing. His voice cracks as he asks. “Peter?”

His head shifts towards his voice, rolling gently into the pillow. “Peter, you gonna wake up for me bud?” He can see Peter’s eyes rolling underneath his eyelids for a couple of minutes. He just waits patiently, stroking Peter’s hand as gently as he can. He smiles wide and happy when Peter’s eyes finally open. They flicker across the room slowly before they land on Tony. A smile spreads across Peter’s face when he sees him. “Dad?”

“Yeah kid. How’re you feeling?”

Peter instantly looks confused, rapidly waking up. “I’m fine. Why?”

Sighing Tony takes his hand back, he grips his left wrist gently. Desperately trying to rub feeling back into his numb arm, an unfortunate symptom that comes with his anxiety. “Well you’ve been asleep for a week, apparently being a spider means you hibernate.”

“What?!” Peter jerks up in the bed, shock written across his face. “H-how? I-it’s never happened before. W-what the hell?” 

Tony shakes his head, shrugging. He smiles comfortingly. “I don’t know Pete. But it’s over.” He stands up from the chair, scooting onto the bed beside Peter. He doesn’t hesitate to pull Peter into his arms, crushing him gently. He holds Peter’s head to his shoulder firmly. Pushing down the rising panic in both him and Peter. “I missed you so much Pete. You don’t know how much it scared me when you wouldn’t wake up. God.”

He presses a kiss to the top of Peter’s head, folding him into his arms. He squeezes so hard it surprises him that Peter can even still breathe. He doesn’t let go for even a second. “You have to know that i’m not letting you go to sleep for a while. We’re gonna be doing a lot of stuff.”

He can feel Peter nod into his shoulder, mumbling a “Yes.” From where he’s squeezed into him. He presses a round of kisses into Peter’s head, onto his temple and onto his cheek. Before he rests his chin on top of Peter’s, squeezing him once before he lets go. “So what do you wanna do first?”

“I-i don't know? Cuddle some more?” 

He scrunches his face up in confusion, shock still written on his face. There’s a twinkle in his eye though. Something mischievous, it makes Tony chuckle. 

“Sure, I can do that.” 

Tony pulls him in, squeezing him in his arms. Thankful for the fact that Peter isn’t dead, even with how much he panicked that Peter was. He’s alive and safe in his arms, and Tony won’t be letting go anytime soon. 

Chapter Text

“Where did you put the flathead screwdriver?” Peter asks, whilst rubbing the large patch of grease off his thumb. 

Tony points towards the worktable in the corner, covered in piles of tools and oil and grease stained rags. “I think it’s over there, where I left the bolts.” He doesn't turn around from where he’s got his other arm shoved under the car's chassis. He spends a few minutes tightening a bolt, before he pulls his arm back out. “While you're over there, could you pass me the other bolts?”

Peter nods affirmatively and makes his way over to the table, scooping up the bolts in one hand and the screwdriver in the other. He passes the bolts to Tony before making his way around to the other side of the car. Crouching by the bottom of the car door, he fiddles with the loose screw, holding it firm while he screws it tight. “I’ve finished the door.”

“Alright, just give me a sec to put these bolts on.” Straightening up, Peter chucks the screwdriver down onto the workbench behind him. Picking up a rag, he uses it to wipe more of the grease off his fingers. He walks around the car and stands behind Tony, putting the rag down too. He waits for Tony to finish tightening the bolts, luckily it only takes him a minute or two. Afterwards he stands up, putting the spanner he was using on the table and picking up the rag Peter used to clean his own hands. 

He places a calloused hand on Peter’s shoulder, a bright smile on his face as he looks at him. “It’s done. All we have to do is take it for a test drive.” 

Peter smiles at that, lifting a hand to Tony, who hugh fives him. They both turn to the car, and smile proudly. Knowing that they put in so much effort to fix the car so Peter could drive it. They’d had an agreement that Tony couldn’t buy him an expensive car, but he had to buy a less expensive and partly broken one so they could fix it together. Peter couldn’t be happier that he’d asked Tony. It was fun, working together, getting to learn from Tony.

Tony winds an arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him gently into his side. “Why don’t we go have a snack? I’m betting you’re hungry.”

Peter’s stomach responds for him, it lets out a vicious and loud rumble that echoes through the room. It succeeds in making Tony chuckle heartily. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Peter blushes, cheeks reddening quickly. He ducks past Tony, shuffling out of the room. Tony follows after, once he catches up to him he lifts a hand to Peter’s head, and ruffles his hair. Delighting in the huff that escapes Peter, and the way his cheeks redden even more. He doesn’t pull away though, he moves closer when Tony pulls him in and they walk side by side all the way to the kitchen. 

⎊🕷⎊🕷⎊🕷⎊

They’re both standing in the kitchen when it happens. Tony pulling out the things to make grilled cheese sandwiches, while Peter watches on from where he’s stood by the counter. Thor comes crashing through the doorway, from wherever he’d been in the compound previously. He greets the both of them respectively, with a nod. “Tony Howardson, Peter Tonyson.” 

Tony lifts a hand to greet him, “Hey Point Break, what’s the rush?”

“I have come in search of tart of the pop.” He takes gigantic strides towards one of the cupboards, his cape billowing behind him. He pulls the box out and drops it on the worktop, he pulls one of the packets out and opens it. Pulling out the pop tart and shoving it in his mouth, not even putting it in the toaster.

Peter can’t stop the confusion that crosses his face, “Don’t you know you’re supposed to toast those?” He shuffles up to Thor’s side, peeking over his shoulder. He smiles at him when he turns around, crumbs falling steadily from his mouth as he speaks.

“I find it best to eat tart of the pop raw, it’s rather delicious.” Peter can barely make the words out through the food in his mouth, but he respects the fact that Thor doesn’t understand basic mundane things such as eating with your mouth closed. He just smiles and shakes his head fondly. He makes to turn around towards Tony, when he’s halted by Thor’s large hand on his shoulder. “Thor?”

He places both hands on Peter’s shoulders, holding firm with a bright but fond smile on his face. “Young one, would you care to try and lift my hammer? So far you are the only one of earth’s mightiest heroes yet to try the feat.” 

“I’m- i’m not one of earth’s mightiest heroes but- i guess i’ll give it a go?” When he says it, he doesn’t sound very sure. But Thor takes his answer as a yes, stretching out an arm, hand open and calls for his hammer. Instead of coming from the side where Thor’s hand is pointing, it comes through the ceiling above them. The ceiling cracks, branching out from the whole in which the hammer came through. It’s clear the ceiling isn’t stable, and it only takes a couple of moments of Peter staring worriedly up at the ceiling for it to break. A large part of the ceiling cracks off, and comes hurtling towards him. He knows the hair on his arms stands up, he senses the impending danger. But he’s frozen in shock, the smell of cement filling his nostrils and sending him tumbling back to being crushed under the warehouse.

The cement hits his back, crushing him on the floor. He sees Thor out of the corner of his eye. It’s heavy, and on any other day he would lift himself up and throw it off. But he doesn’t, he stays rooted to the floor, breaths uneven and vision spotty. All he knows is that he’s stuck and no one is going to save him, no one is going to help him. He’s stuck, and for just one moment, he isn’t Spider-Man. 

He can’t hear anything other than the blood rushing in his ears, his heart pounding and the cement cracking. He can’t catch a breath, lungs heaving as he tries to get oxygen. He doesn’t know why he can’t, all he knows is he wants to breathe. It feels as if he’s submerged in water, unable to catch a single breath. He doesn’t feel the concrete above him being lifted off him, he doesn’t feel the weight releasing from his back. All he knows is he’s stuck. He doesn’t feel the hands turning him over, or pulling him into a strong chest, or the fingers that thread through his hair. He only barely hears the voice that shouts his name, it’s only after the third or fourth time when he finally hears it properly.

“Pete! Come on bud, you gotta breathe. You’re not there ok, you’re here with me and Thor. In the compound, you’re fine, you’re not stuck. You gotta breathe. Please.”  A hand grips his, pulling it to press against the chest he’s leaning on. He doesn’t have the strength to open his eyes, but he has the strength to listen to the words and feel the way the chest moves under his palm. “Can you copy my breathing?”

He doesn’t know how to, he gasps for breath. Unable to copy the exaggerated but calm breaths. He doesn’t know how, he just doesn’t. He can’t stop the whimper that rises up his throat, but the hand that cups the side of his face calms him. It calms him enough for his brain to understand how to copy the breaths, so he does. Breathing in when the chest does and breathing out when the chest does. It takes almost a minute of just breathing for his lungs to finally feel full, for his body to stop panicking. It gives him the energy and awareness to look up, to stare at the neatly groomed beard that belongs to Tony. To look into the chocolate eyes filled with warmth and love but also worry. 

He sniffs, and the smell of the concrete assaults his nose again. Threatening to throw him viciously back into the panic he was in, back underneath the warehouse. Stuck with no escape. “Buddy no, you’re ok. You’re right here with me, just breathe. Can you name five things you can see for me baby? Just five things.”

He listens to the words and lets them ground him, raising his fists to grip at the fabric of Tony’s shirt. “U-um, I can- can see the floor. Uh the- the window, Thor. I c-can see you.”

“Just one more thing bud.” 

He nods, finally paying attention to the room around him. Finally feeling like he’s not underneath the large unforgiving building. Not stuck. “My shirt?” 

Tony’s hand strokes his cheek, he feels the kiss that’s pressed to the top of his head. “That’s good, that’s really good miele. Can you name four things you can feel?”

He tightens his fist on Tony’s shirt. “Y-your shirt, my hair, um y-your hand on my face. My socks.”

“That’s good, three things you can hear.”

“You breathing, me breathing. U-um Natasha and C-clint fighting upstairs.”

The hand comes back, squeezing his shoulder firmly. Grounding him. “That’s good bambino. Really good, two things you can smell.”

“The cheese, your cologne.” 

“You’re doing really good tesoro, something you can taste?”

“Um, dust?”

“Mm, good. You’re doing awesome bud. Do you feel better now?” Tony shifts him sideways, so he’s still sitting in his lap. But now he’s facing him properly,  Tony’s hand cupping his face gently. 

Peter nods, a tear slips down his cheek unbidden. “Y-yeah, that really worked. I’m- i’m sorry for getting so worked up, how d-did you know how to do that?”

Tony’s thumb wipes away the tear, as soon as it falls. He kisses Peter’s forehead, smiling fondly at him. “You know, I realised after a while of having really bad nightmares and panic attacks. That I had PTSD, I went to a therapist and everything. And they taught me ways of dealing with panic attacks, and that was the only one that worked. I’m glad it worked for you too, I hate seeing you like that. It was awful for me, I hate that you have to deal with it too. I’m sorry bud.”

He shakes his head, bringing up a shaky hand to fold around Tony’s on his face. “It’s ok, i’m sorry you have to deal with it too.” Tony doesn't reply. Just folds his arms around Peter and squeezes him in one of the largest hugs he’s probably ever given. He kisses Peter on the temple. Just content to sit and hug forever. But Peter’s stomach prevents that, rumbling loudly between them.

“I was making you food, how about I continue with that huh?”

Peter nods, and goes to stand. So Tony helps him, holding his arm and standing with him. Tony steadies him when he sways slightly. The clearing of a throat turns their heads to the other person in the room. Thor looks guilty, hammer in his hand. “I apologise young one, I did not think that through, I did not expect the ceiling to fall on you. Would you like to have a go at lifting the hammer now?” 

He extends a buff arm in Peter’s direction, the hammer held in his fist. Peter nods hesitantly. “I guess so.” He steps forward, wrapping his hand around the handle of the hammer. Thor lets go, the hammer staying in midair, gripped in Peter’s fist. Peter’s eyes bulge, staring at the objecting in his hand. “W-what does this mean?” He hears a knife clatter to the worktop behind him, before a hand folds over his shoulder. 

“It means your worthy bud. I never would have doubted it. I’m so proud of you Pete.” Tony stands in front of him and pulls him in, wrapping his arms around his back. Making sure to tuck Peter’s head into his neck. Peter’s arm sticks out awkwardly behind Tony, he feels the hammer being gently pulled out of his hand by Thor. Thor smiles at him from over Tony’s shoulder, slowly backing out of the room. Peter just smiles, tucking his face in further and clenching his eyes shut. He breathes in the smell of Tony’s cologne and the faint scent of oil, letting it calm him. 

“I love you Dad.”

“I love you too baby. So so much.”