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Tony Stark wasn't a doctor; that much he knew.
What he did know, through deductive reasoning and educated guesses, was that appendicitis sucked.
He was hitting himself for being so damn stupid earlier. Peter had showed up at the lab, slower than usual and complaining of a stomachache. And what did he do? Instead of having FRIDAY run a scan or asking when it started, he joked about the kid eating too many chips and kept working. He ignored it—ignored Peter. And look where it landed him. In the med-bay, with his kid in agony.
Peter was writhing on a stretcher, Helen Cho giving orders left and right to the medical staff surrounding him. It felt like there was a band around Tony's heart, strangling him until he feared he might burst. Peter was seeking him out frantically as terrifying words like "emergency" and "surgery" and "anesthesia" were tossed around him. Tony filled in the gap between them instantly, squeezing in between two nurses, and Peter clung to his hand.
"M'ser Stark…"
"Yeah?" Tony fought with every fiber of his being not to sound panicked. He had to be calm for the kid. "What is it, kiddo?"
"Jus' hurts…r'lly bad…" Peter's face twisted. He looked like he was fighting off tears.
"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay, bud. You hear? You're gonna be alright."
A nurse tried for the second time to insert an IV into the crook of Peter's arm. He didn't even flinch.
"He's in pain." Tony said to Cho, tension lacing his voice.
"I know, Tony, and as soon as the IV is in we can get him some pain meds and anesthetize him for surgery." Tony hated how calm she was in the midst of his personal hell.
Peter's grip tightened on his hand so much so that he thought his fingers might snap. He'd forgotten how strong this kid was. "Is that really necessary?"
"Pain meds, or surgery?" Cho asked, stopping whatever she was doing with a heart monitor to look at Peter.
"Both."
"I'm sorry Peter, but yes. If we don't do this surgery, something could rupture, and besides; with your healing factor, you'll be better in no time."
Peter sighed and Tony brushed a hand through his curls. "It'll be alright, bud."
"You'll stay?"
"Of course I'm staying."
"Then okay, I guess."
Everything happened so quickly after that. Peter's IV finally went in successfully and the anesthesiologist knocked him out. Monitors were placed, prep completed, and the surgery was ready.
Tony had never been so terrified of operations in his life.
Peter woke up slowly.
Besides the fact that he was incredibly drowsy, he was also very comfortable at the moment. He was on something soft and warm, and everything was fairly quiet, save for the monotonous beeping and whirring of monitors. He cracked his eyes open. Everything was white and silver and bright. No, it would be best to just sleep for a bit longer now. Yes, that would be nice.
"Peter? You coming out of it, bud?"
Or not. He recognized that voice. He thought he liked it, but couldn't quite place why. Maybe he should find out. He opened his eyes again.
"FRIDAY, lights at fifty percent."
Oh, that felt nice. Peter looked around the dim room. There was no one else there, except for…
"M'ser S'rk?"
"That's me, kiddo."
"I though' they were gon' take my a'pendix."
"They already did. You're done."
"Oh." News to him.
"Why don't you go back to sleep, buddy? Let the meds do their thing."
That was an excellent idea.
Tony sat for three hours on a hard, plastic chair beside Peter's bed. Besides making a mental note to add some cushioned ones on his next visit, he spent those hours berating himself. Staring at Peter's peaceful face helped a fraction, but every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was that same face pinched in pain. He dropped his head in his hands and sighed.
A hand rubbed a knot in his shoulder gently.
"Tony?"
"Hey Pep." Tony lifted his head. Pepper smiled sympathetically, hair half falling out of her bun in light strands.
"Helen told me what happened. I called May, she's on her way right now."
"Thank God."
"How are you holding up?" Pepper pressed her lips together when Tony didn't respond. "This wasn't your fault, Tony."
"I ignored it, Pep. I didn't do anything, and it got worse. And that's on me."
"You're right. That's on you. But you know what else is?" Tony grunted. "Ha, no. So is making sure he got to med-bay as soon as you realized, and comforting him through your own breakdown. And so is staying with him right now, when I can tell for a fact that your back is in agony."
Tony let himself give a wry smile. "Is it that obvious?"
"Very. Now go, get yourself some coffee. I'll wait here until you get back."
"You're sure?"
Pepper rolled her eyes. "Go, Tony."
And he did.
Peter awoke once more to a soft murmuring of voices around him. He was still comfortable, but in an irritated sort of way. The fuzziness in his head was getting old, and he had a feeling he was missing out on something important. He wanted to get up. Slowly, he opened his eyes and fumbled around groggily. The voices stopped and a hand met the small of his back while another messed with the bed's controls until he was sitting up slightly. Peter blinked a few times and looked around.
"M'ser S'rk?"
The voice sounded relieved when it spoke. "Yes, Mr. Parker?"
"Why's Ms. Potts here?" he yawned. "Isn' she s'possed to be at work?"
"Not today." Another voice said, this one softer and calmer than the other. "But look, Peter. May's here."
"May? You—wha?"
"Right here, baby." May Parker ran a gentle hand through his curls. Hm. That felt good.
"Wha's ev'ryone doing here?"
"Just saying hi," May said. "You're a bit of a celebrity now."
"I am?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Oh. That's nice." Peter paused, considering. "Is it 'cause 'm Spiderman?"
"No," Tony said. Unnatural fondness was creeping into his voice, and he smiled. "It's because you're Peter."