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Tony smiles down at his daughter – freshly eleven years old – as she fidgets with the large present in her lap. He’s wrapped it with a custom-made Iron Man gift wrap. True, some novelty stores stock their own generic Iron Man-themed wrapping paper, but none have it in purple - Morgan’s favorite color.
“This will be a surprise for Mommy, too,” Pepper mutters, eyeing Tony cautiously. “But I’m sure that you’ll love it, sweetie.”
Morgan offers a half-hearted smile to her mother and slumps into the couch, tearing into the paper. Yeah, she’s been acting a little odd all day, but Tony hasn’t wanted to push. It’s her birthday, after all, and if anything is truly wrong, she’ll come to him.
Under the paper is a white cardboard box. Morgan picks at the edges curiously.
“Do you want some help?” Tony asks, already standing up to assist his daughter.
Seeing as he’s already only a few paces away, Morgan nods, and she presses the package into Tony’s arms. And then she sags against the armrest of the sofa and rubs blearily at her eyes. Yep. Odd.
Ignoring the loop of worry that spins around in his gut, Tony pulls up the flaps at the edges of the box, thrusts the half-opened gift into Morgan’s lap. A bit of a quizzical glimmer returns to her eyes. She dutifully raises the top.
There’s no doubt about the exact moment that she discerns what her gift is; it’s displayed all across her face. The downtrodden countenance that’s been present for the entirety of the day quickly morphs into one of shock, and then of delight.
What can he say? He’s dope. Epic. Lit. Whatever it is that the kids say nowadays.
“D-Dad,” Morgan stutters out. “I...”
Morgan had 'casually' hinted that she wanted a hoverboard a couple weeks ago. This process involved dog-earring a toy catalog and leaving it just so on the coffee table, and, when that effort wasn’t explicitly noted, outright stating: “I really want a hoverboard.”
And, well, Tony couldn’t resist. His daughter wanted a hoverboard. He gave her one.
An actual hoverboard. That hovers in the air. Not one of those fake-ass cheap ones. (It’s completely safe, of course. Controlled by FRIDAY and levitates with the repulsor technology of the Iron Man suit.)
Pepper raises an eyebrow, but Tony ignores her. He’ll deal with the fallout later.
“Do you like it, Maguna?”
In response, Morgan grins. It’s a beautiful grin that hasn’t made an appearance all day, and Tony’s heart swells. He did that. He made her smile.
Shortly after, though, a spark of pain flashes over her face – eyes cinching, mouth grimacing, and fists curling. The warm feeling in his chest is immediately replaced by anxiety.
“Well, uh, time for cake?” He asks. It's an attempt to distract both himself from this worry and his daughter from whatever it is that ails her.
“I think so,” Pepper responds. From the sharp edge of her voice, Tony can tell instantly that she's been noticing the same things that he has. “Peter, we’re ready!”
Right on cue, FRIDAY dims the lights, and two silhouettes – Peter and MJ – enter the room.
“Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday dear Morgan,
Happy birthday to you!”
The couple sings in unison, with Pepper and Tony joining in on the last line. In an attempt to get a reaction out of his daughter, Tony uses his off-key falsetto voice – the one that’s never failed to make either of his kids cringe.
He’s not even sure she notices.
Once the song has finished, FRIDAY automatically turns the lights on, and this reveals the Stark Raving Hazelnuts ice cream cake that Tony had poured blood, sweat, and tears into last night.
HAPPY 11TH BDAY MO, it says in proud purple frosting.
“What do you think?” Pepper asks, nudging her daughter’s foot. Peter and MJ share a confused look as they bring over the cake. “Hm? Your dad worked very hard on making this treat for you, honey, what do you say?”
Morgan blinks a couple times and slowly turns her exhausted gaze to Tony. “Th-thanks, Dad. Looks really good.”
There’s an awkward silence from her lack of reaction, until MJ claps her hands together and takes a butter knife out from the platter.
“Let’s eat this thing!”
“Oh, I can cut it, honey. ” Pepper smiles and steps over to the cake, accepting the utensil from her daughter-in-law. She offers the very first slice to Morgan, extending the birthday-themed paper plate to the slouching girl with a: “Happy birthday, baby.”
“N-No thanks,” Morgan mutters, and she curls closer into herself.
Okay, no.
Something’s really wrong.
“What’s up, bambina?” Tony asks, and there's an unabashed concern that seeps through his voice.
“I-It’s nothing,” she’s quick to say. “Just an – ohhhh - just a bit of a stomach ache.” She shifts in her spot and whimpers softly, clutching her hands around her midsection. “D-Daddy, it hurts .”
Oh God. On her birthday of all days?
He and Pepper exchange a nervous glance, and then crouch down beside her. Pepper runs her fingers through Morgan’s limp hair while Tony presses his lips to his daughter’s forehead.
Fuck. The skin is burning.
“Oh, Magoo, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Tony asks. And the shame is creeping in on him now. Shame that his daughter – his barely eleven year old daughter - hid her pain, and he didn’t do anything about it. On her birthday.
“I - I wanted to have a fun day,” Morgan confesses, blissfully oblivious to the pool of guilt her father’s currently melting in. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, Morgan, don’t apologize.” Pepper presses her hand against Morgan’s cheek, sighing at the warm touch. “We’ll postpone your birthday. Right now, you need to rest up.”
“No,” Morgan whines. There are tears threatening to spill out from her eyes. “It has to be today. I’m fine.”
And, great, seems she’s inherited yet another of his shitty qualities. How is he supposed to fix this one?
“Hey, Mo,” MJ says, appearing out of nowhere and squatting down to meet Morgan at eye level. “Can I tell you a secret?” Morgan scrunches up her nose and nods. Sweat starts beading on her forehead. “Your dad and brother are some of the most idiotic people alive.”
“What -”
“Okay, I don’t think we need to go that far -”
“When they feel gross,” MJ continues, ignoring both Peter and Tony’s protests, “They pretend that they don’t. That just makes them feel grosser.”
“That is a fair point,” Peter mutters under his breath, and he joins his wife on the floor. “Like all those times I’ve been stabbed, right, Morgan?”
Morgan nods, eyes wide. Okay – maybe she shouldn’t be so casual with the idea of her brother getting stabbed, but you take what you can get.
“Once I thought I could handle it by myself, no medical care. The wound ended up getting infected and your dad didn’t let me get out of bed for a week.”
Oh yeah, Tony remembers that. It gave him one of his first-ever gray hairs. God, this kid.
“So, you’re admitting that you’re a dumbass and you’ll stop hiding injuries?” MJ deadpans. She already knows the answer. They all do.
“Beside the point. Anyway, Mo, it’s important to go to the doctor when you feel yucky, okay?”
Tony holds his breath for his answer, and it’s like she’s pushing an entire building off of his shoulders when she nods – albeit begrudgingly.
“Fine,” is the answer, and she slowly starts pulling herself up from the couch.
Once she’s standing, she walks to her parents, and then immediately doubles down with pain, sinking against the couch.
Just like that, Tony’s heart drops along with her.
It’s one of the many May-sanctioned Lab Days. Tony’s elbow-deep in his latest Iron Man Mark, and the kid’s working on the English paper he should have started weeks ago.
“Boss,” FRIDAY says, startling Tony and causing him to shock his finger on an exposed wire. He yelps and brings his injury up to his mouth instinctively, sucking on it as he hisses through his teeth.
Once the initial panic's faded, Tony asks: “What is it, darling?”
“Perhaps you should work with Peter, considering -”
“Right. You’re absolutely right, baby girl. Pete?” With the mention of his name, said Spider-Kid glances towards Tony. “How about a break from all that literary shit, huh?”
“Oh! S-Sure, I didn’t want to bother you.”
God. This kid.
“You’re not a bother, Underoos. Now,” Tony pats the seat next to him. “C’mere.”
Peter bites the bottom of his lip and wraps his hands around his stomach, a brief flight of pain passing over his expression. He moans, a seemingly involuntary noise, and sets his head on the desk in front of him.
“Fuck,” Tony hisses. He’s no doctor, but even he can tell that something’s wrong here. At the thought of it, his gut drops into his stomach, and he curses the moment he first started caring about this kid. “Kid? You – er – okay there?”
The response is a strangled and muffled: “mmmmph.”
“Yeah, you, uh, don’t sound too hot.”
Tony stands up and rushes over to Peter, attempting all the while to mask the extent of his worry. If he gets anxious, Peter’ll get anxious, and there’s no reason for that to happen. With a shaking hand, Tony places his palm against Peter’s forehead. It’s burning. Burning.
“Boss, there are more accurate ways of -”
“Okay, kid, you are sick. 100%, go-to-the-Med-Bay-and-get-checked-out-by-Cho-sick.”
This definitely grabs Peter’s attention. He sits up a bit too quickly and squeezes his eyes shut, clearly in pain. Why is this kid so much like him? Why does he have to look up to the most shitty guy on the planet? Why does he look up to the most shitty guy on the planet?
“I - I’m fine, Mr. Stark, really. Just, a, uh, just a little cold. That’s it. L-L-Look, I’ll show you -”
“That sounds like a fucking bad idea, kid -”
But Peter doesn’t listen. When does he ever? With a great deal of effort, he wrenches himself off the chair, and then he's falling to the ground, hissing out muffled curses through his teeth. Every groan, every grimace, every tear that brims in Peter’s fucking stubborn eyes – Tony feels it, right in his heart. Damn if he doesn’t wish it wasn’t made of iron right about now.
“Okay,” Peter relents, and it’s a broken noise. “Maybe it was a fucking bad idea.”
His heart is in his throat, but he gulps it down.
With a meaningful glance at Peter, Tony asks: “Does it feel like a stomachache, though, Morgan?”
And the response is little more than a whimper, little less than a cry. “N-Not really...”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter cries, as Tony stands above him. Useless. “Something’s really wrong.”
And, yeah, no shit, Sherlock. “Your Peter-Tingle?”
“No... maybe...” Peter rolls on the ground, pressing his cheek against the cool tile, and why the fuck isn’t Tony picking his kid off the goddamn floor? “It feels really off...”
And now it’s less of a concern and more of an emergency. Peter has not once, in the entire year that Tony’s known the kid, confessed to a single discomfort. And he’s been shot. Twice.
“What - FRI, what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong right now, God – fix him, for fuck’s sake!”
Peter whines, and a teardrop hits Tony’s shoe. He almost vomits right then and there.
"FRIDAY, Med-Bay ready stat,” Tony says, managing to keep most of the trembling out of his voice.
“D-Dad, what’s happening?” Morgan sniffles. Tony turns his attention from the ceiling to his daughter. “I’m scared, Dad – I – I'm so scared -”
Pepper cuts her off with a hug – a tight one. Morgan presses her face into her mother’s shoulder, and in return, Pepper kisses Morgan’s hair.
“It’s okay. Shh, shh, baby, it’s all going to be okay. We’ll be here the entire time, right by your side.”
“R-Right by my side for what?”
Pepper inhales sharply, and Tony and Peter glance each other’s way nervously.
“Right by my side for what ?”
"S-So we should, uh – I can go to the Med-Bay now, right?”
"Fuck – yes, of course you can –” He runs out of words, and uselessly mutters, “FRI?”
“I’m sure Peter will be fine, Boss,” she says, and it doesn’t go over Tony’s head that she’s directing her reassurances at him. "Though a Med-Bay visit could never hurt.”
Her words calm him, and he gives a quick, diplomatic nod of his head. “Right. You heard the AI, kid, Spider-Baby needs a check-up.”
Peter doesn’t even complain about the nickname, and Tony’s heart flutters right back up into his throat. Okay, so Peter’s sick. Yeah. He knew that already. Right. But Peter’s... really sick. It’s hitting him now, of all times, and he wishes it would go back to wherever it flew in from. How the hell does he help a sick kid? Peter doesn’t run on batteries, and batteries are all he knows.
“Uh, Mr. Stark?” Peter clears his throat hastily. He’s slumped against the desk, eyes sunken, pale skin beading with sweat. “Could we, er, make like a guillotine and head -”
“Don’t even finish that joke, Parker,” Tony groans. The kid has a bad habit of joking when he’s not feeling too hot – which, no, that’s Tony’s thing.
“Okay, but -”
“Yep. Let’s go, up and at ‘em.”
It turns out that saying ‘up and at ‘em’ is easier than actually getting ‘up and at ‘em’ when you’re... well. When you’re feeling however Peter’s feeling.
Tony has to hoist the kid up under his armpits, and then Peter leans against Tony the entire way there. They receive a few odd glances as they head through the Tower, but most passersby are too nervous to look at Tony at all.
Soon enough, they’re at the Med-Bay, and Tony clamps a calloused hand on Peter’s shoulder. The boy shakes under the grasp.
“I’m going to leave you with Dr. Cho, alright, buddy?”
Peter glances up, frightened, before schooling his expression back into one of neutrality. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Sure.”
Maybe Tony should stay with Peter, but he really doesn’t think anything is too wrong. Sure, the kid gave him a bit of a scare for a second there, but everything is fine. It has to be.
And Peter’s always talking about how he wants to handle shit by himself – surely he can have an examination without his mentor in the room.
Just in case, Tony’s about to follow up, when Dr. Cho enters, clasping her hands together.
“Alright, what seems to be the matter?”
“Pete here isn’t feeling too hot, eh, kid?”
“Uh, yeah, it’s my stomach, I think.”
Dr. Cho nods in understanding and tucks her clipboard under her arm. “Follow me, I’ll just do a few routine tests.”
Casting one longing look back at Tony, Peter wraps his arms around his gut and marches after the doctor. Tony smiles and dusts his hands on his pants. The kid’ll be fine. Time to get some more work done.
FRIDAY promises that she’ll alert him with any new developments, so Tony decides to bang out some of the SI work that Pepper’s been nagging him about. A few documents to sign, a presentation to whip together. Boring, boring, boring, if you ask Tony – but Pepper isn’t asking Tony, as she’s pointed out several times, so he’s got to get it done.
Billionaire problems, huh?
He’s in the middle of slapping his John Hancock on a couple legal papers when Pepper appears in the doorway, an impressed eyebrow raised.
“You’re finally getting to your work?” She asks, walking towards him.
“Yep.” Spinning around in his chair, he offers her a smirk. “Guess I’m not as useless as you thought, hm?”
“Something tells me you’re neglecting some other area of your life.”
“Nope.” He pauses. “Well, the kid’s in the Med-Bay. It’s nothing serious, Pep, he’s just getting a check-up for a stomach ache.”
Pepper crosses her arms suspiciously. “Spider-Man?”
“My favorite young adult,” Tony confirms.
“Okay. Fine. I’m impre -”
She’s cut off by a nurse, their frantic footprints reaching the lab and a frazzled face poking through the door. “D-Dr. Cho sent me,” they stutter, catching their breath and pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. “She said that, um, we caught it just in time. We’re going to need to do an emergency surgery, and, well, er, Peter has appendicitis.”
Tony’s heart starts hammering in his gullet and he grips the bottom of his chair in an attempt to ground himself.
Well, fuck.
Morgan’s dark hair is fanned out on the stretcher, a stark contrast against her pale face. The red and blue Spider-Man doll is clutched tightly in her fist, whitening her knuckles. A tear drops onto its fuzz.
Tony’s heart burns at the sight. His fingers anxiously go to work at making this better.
“I’m right here, bambina,” he says, brushing a few of the tears off her cheeks. “I’ll be here the whole time, and I won’t let anything happen to you. You know that. You’re way stronger than some silly appendix.”
These words are of little comfort to his daughter, and her lips crumple down in preparation for a fresh sob. When it comes, such a pitiful and heart-wrenching noise, Tony isn’t ready, and he feels her knock down each and every one of his defenses.
Luckily, he’s not alone.
MJ pushes past him and grabs onto Morgan’s hand, rubbing her thumb over the pocket of skin between the girl’s thumb and pointer finger.
“I know it’s scary, Mo, and it’s alright to be scared.” Morgan sniffles at this. “But if your brother got through it, I’m sure you can. Have you ever seen him get blood drawn?”
Everyone chuckles, because they all have. The kid needs a good deal of coaxing and bribery to get off the ceiling and remain still for the needle, even now that he’s grown up. Most importantly, though, Morgan chuckles, and her tears subside for a moment.
Unfortunately, it’s only a moment.
The doctor soon appears in the room and nods at the family, rubbing her gloved hands together.
“We’re ready for the patient.”
He hears Morgan’s sharp intake of breath, hears the wheels squeak against the tile, and hears his daughter’s pleas as she’s taken away from him: “Dad, come with me – please, I don’t - Daddy -!”
Peter’s lying there on a stretcher, and Tony’s pretending he doesn’t hear the kid’s whimpers. The thing is that Tony isn’t cut out for this. Taking care of a scared kid wasn’t on the mentor job description. What the hell is he supposed to say?
Luckily, he’s not alone.
Pepper pushes past him and grabs onto Peter’s shoulder, rubbing it soothingly.
“Don’t worry, Peter,” she smiles, brushing away a stray tear. “We have some of the best doctors in there and they’ll make sure that you’re just fine, okay, darling?”
Stifling another cry, Peter nods shakily. Pepper steps back in line with Tony and glares at him. So much for being in her good graces with that SI work.
A doctor appears and, with a thin-lipped smile at Tony, starts to wheel Peter through the hallways. The kid’s whimpering and crying out, and Tony’s heart is panging with the noises but he isn’t doing anything because what can he do?
Seriously. What is it that he can do?
Peter disappears down the hallway and Tony hisses through his teeth. There’s nothing he can do now. That’s that.
"Mr. Stark, we need to take your daughter in alone -”
"No. I’m staying with her.”
The doctor sighs and massages the bridge of her nose. “We can’t operate with you in the room, sir. You need to stay out here.”
This elicits a fresh burst of tears from Morgan, and Tony frantically smudges these, too, away.
“Hey, hey, baby.” Morgan glances up at him, her lip quivering. “I’ll be waiting for you the entire time, okay? You’re not even going to feel anything, and once it’s done, you can have as much cake as you want. Uh, as long as mom says it’s okay.”
Pepper laughs sadly and nods, brushing a few hairs away from her daughter’s face. “As much cake as you want,” she echoes.
These words calm Morgan down a little, but she still looks like she’ll have another breakdown any second. MJ puts her lips to Morgan’s ear and whispers something that Tony can’t hear but makes his daughter giggle and nod.
Those two have always had a special relationship, and he can’t be jealous of it right now. Later, of course -
“Are you ready, Morgan?” The doctor asks, looking at Tony instead of the girl in question.
She answers, anyway, squeezing the Spider-Man doll to her heart. “Yeah. I – I guess so.”
Even though her voice cracks on the last syllable, that’s good enough for them.
“Pete?” Tony asks later, in the waiting room. It's been hardly five minutes since Morgan went in, but it feels like well over five hours. He fingers the plastic water bottle in his fingers. “What was – uh – what was it like for you? Getting your appendix out?”
Peter hesitates, and Tony knows it’s nothing good.
It’s numb for a little while, and then it’s not darkness anymore and -
painpainpaINPAINPAIN
It’s white hot pain, and he can feel every single touch INSIDE OF HIM and it hurts so badly it hurtsithurtsithurTS
He tastes blood in his mouth, he feels the sting of sweat in his eyes, until the darkness comes once again and he welcomes it.
It’s numb for a little while, and then it’s not darkness anymore and -
painpainpaINPAINPAIN
It’s red hot pain, and it’s more than throbbing or aching or pounding and it hurts so badly it hurtsithurtsithurTS -
Tony drops the bottle onto the ground; it hits the tile with a crackling sound. His sight goes blurry and then even outs again, and his heart flips up into his throat.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the anesthetic didn’t work on you, Parker?”
“I - I mean, our relationship was complicated!” Peter defends. He glances to MJ for support, but she just shakes her head sadly. Then, back at Tony, “I didn’t know what I should bother you with -”
“Bother me with the anesthetic – this entire time, Peter, you haven’t been going under? Jesus fucking -”
“Well I worked with Dr. Banner a couple years ago -”
“Oh, wow, so you’re going behind my back, huh?”
“It was weird to mention it this late, I knew you would freak out just like you are -!”
“Boys!” Pepper exclaims, and somehow Tony can hear her over the throbbing in his ears.
There’s a tense silence for a little bit, until Peter interrupts it.
“Anyway, as far as we know, Morgan isn’t enhanced -”
“‘As far as we know -’ kid, why would you -?!”
"She’ll be fine,” Peter responds, his voice steady. “I got through it, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
He’s not sure whom Peter’s reassuring, or whom it’s working on.
Peter’s going to be fine. Tony knows this, rationally.
Besides from the fact that he has to be, the surgery is incredibly safe. And Peter won't be able to feel a thing. But there are always risks and dangers. If Peter gets hurt... if Peter d -
Tony sniffs and plants his hands on his desk. Time for some Iron Man updates, it seems.
Soon enough, Tony learns that the suits aren’t a suitable distraction. Each Mark only reminds him of the kid. The kid who’s currently in surgery and getting out his fucking appendix -
(Quantum physics. That’s always a great distraction.)
(Peter loves quantum physics.)
(Peter loves astronomy, too.)
(Fuck. He can’t do this.)
They’ve been waiting for God knows how long. Long enough for Pepper to have to cancel an important business meeting, long enough for Tony’s heel to hurt from all the nervous jiggling, long enough for Peter to have gone off to grab a snack.
Speaking of, the kid’s been gone for a few minutes. One of Tony’s children is in surgery – he has to at least have eyes on the other one. So, standing up with a rough-sounding crack in his knees, Tony walks through the hallways of the Med-Bay until he reaches Peter, who’s standing by one of the vending machines.
“You are aware that I own this Tower, correct?” Tony asks, leaning casually against the wall. “You don’t need to pay for the snack. Just put in the code -”
Rolling his eyes, Peter slides a couple coins into the machine, anyway, and claims his bag of potato chips a few moments later.
“Morgan’s seriously going to be fine,” Peter says, out of the fucking blue. “A bit anxious, but fine. Tony – she's asleep right now, she’s not even hurting.”
Tony does know these facts, but facts hardly ever ease his anxiety. When he’s nervous, he’s nervous, and there’s nothing that will change that.
“I know,” he starts, tapping his fingers against his leg. “But...”
But there are always complications. But sometimes it feels like the universe is out to get me. But they say what comes around goes around, and I’m still waiting for it to go around. But I can’t fucking live without her.
Tony doesn’t voice any of these, though, because a doctor breezes past them before he can. The sight of a doctor is definitely not mixing well with that anxiety, especially not when she backtracks to join Peter and Tony.
This is about Morgan, then. It’s done, then. What will happen has happened, then.
Tony swallows bile.
“Ah!” The doctor exclaims, before Tony can protest. “Here you are! Your daughter is out of surgery, sir, and we’re just waiting for her to wake up now. You can head right on in.”
“Boss, Peter is out of surgery.”
It’s relief and an entire new bout of worry, all at once.
“Oh,” Tony breathes, licking his dry lips with his dry tongue. Neither gains moisture.
“He now appears to be awake.”
“Huh. That was... fast.”
“He’s asking for you, sir. Miss Potts is currently with him.”
‘He’s asking for you,’ is all Tony needs to hear, and he’s bolting to the elevator, smashing the button impatiently, and throwing himself into the chamber before he realizes what he’s doing. The elevator moves quickly – it's his elevator, after all – and his feet continue to speed through the hallways until he reaches Peter’s room.
For a moment, all he hears is the beeping of the heart monitor, and all he sees is how goddamn small Peter looks on that hospital bed.
For a moment, Tony can hardly breathe.
Tony taps the edges of Morgan’s bed restlessly, glancing at the cheesy Get Well Soon! balloons that litter the hospital room. He supposes that they make the place less dreary, but he wishes that they could move her to an actual room already.
(If he had his way, the walls would be painted bright purple just for his daughter, but that idea had been vetoed right away by the medical staff.)
There’s one present there, too, the one Morgan hasn’t yet opened. Of course, she receives gifts from overbearing fans every year, but after Happy does a quick security check, they just donate all the shit to toy drives (slash the garbage bin, for the more... creative offerings). Morgan's never been too materialistic, and she’s always content with just a couple of presents.
What Tony wouldn’t give to just have her wake up.
Yeah, he realizes that the fact that she isn’t awake quite yet means that the anesthetic worked, but still, every second he can’t reassure his daughter is a second he isn’t a fan of.
Man, Tony just despises the waiting game.
Tony’s been standing in the doorway for a hot second too long, so he sheepishly enters and smiles half-heartedly at Peter. “So, uh, kid, how are you doing?”
“Been better, Mr. Stark,” a strained voice responds.
Peter’s face is bright red, and beads of sweat pour down his forehead. He just looks so – so defeated, so un-Peter-like.
“Okay, yeah, that, er, tracks. FRI, give him some more of the good stuff, doesn’t look like he’s drugged all the way.”
As the liquid flows through the IV, Peter visibly relaxes, sinking into the mattress with a contented sigh.
“So... can I... help at all?”
Peter opens his mouth to speak, but abruptly closes it, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around himself. Okay, so a yes, then.
“It’s okay, Mr. Stark, I know that you’re really busy and I -”
Pepper cuts Peter off with a glare, directed straight at Tony. The billionaire gulps and shifts in his spot. “He wants a hug, Tony,” Pepper says meaningfully.
“O-Oh. Well. Uh. Sure. C’mere, kid.”
Frankly, Tony would rather not hug Peter right now. Hug anyone right now. He’s just not the touchy-feely type. But who is he to deny this kid a hug now, of all times? A dick, that’s who he’d be, and while he may be an asshole, he is not a dick.
Tony walks through the room and sits hesitantly on the side of the mattress, pulling Peter into an awkward hug. If he'd concentrate less on the less-than-ideal situation, he’d notice Peter’s sobs and pained whimpers.
He didn't, though, and doesn’t.
It feels like hours before Morgan finally peels her eyes open.
“Daaaad,” is the first word she says, and Tony’s heart does this funny thing in his chest.
“I’m right here, Mongoose,” Tony says, and he pats his daughter’s leg. “Happy birthday.”
Morgan reaches out her arms, a signal that she wants cuddles, and Tony is all too eager to oblige. Once he’s in the bed, Morgan immediately tucks herself into his side and nuzzles into his chest. This is the feeling he’s been chasing all his life, the one that never was found at the bottom of a bottle or up a woman’s skirt.
“You still have a present, Morgan,” Pepper says, rubbing Morgan’s shoulder. “Do you want to open it?”
“Mmmm...”
She’s high.
Sure, for medical reasons, but it’s still disconcerting to see her like that. Tony swallows hard and starts playing with Morgan’s hair.
“It’s from MJ, Mo, remember? You haven’t opened that one yet.”
With the name of her sister-in-law, Morgan seems to become a bit more aware of her surroundings, and she eagerly searches the room for the woman in question. MJ appears out from the corner, holding a neatly wrapped present, Peter right by her side.
“Yeah!” She says, belatedly, eyeing the box.
MJ smiles softly and hands the present over, and Morgan doesn’t waste a second in tearing off the paper. She’s always been a curious one.
It’s clear that she loves the thing before she says so, and before Tony even sees what ‘the thing’ actually is. A grin stretches across her face, almost quite literally from ear to ear, and then she lets out an ear-piercing streak.
“Thank you!” She quickly exclaims, tossing the gift to the side in favor of throwing her arms around MJ.
“It was no problem, Mo,” MJ responds, and this is in a way that tells Tony she put a shitton of effort into it.
Tony glances curiously at the gift.
It’s a painting, a painting of the entire family. Him, Pepper, MJ, Peter, and Morgan, all laughing around a Thai dinner.
It’s a painting, and it’s the most beautiful painting Tony has ever seen. The love radiating off of the canvas is tactile, and it breaks the dam of emotions that’s been holding up precariously all day.
Tony bursts into tears.
Alarmed, Morgan glances over at him, but he quickly waves her off and runs out of the room, wiping furiously at his eyes. The sobs keep coming, though, in waves of tears and in aches in his throat.
The world blurs and his hearing goes tinny, his body overwhelmed with the flurry of Feeling, one unlike anything he’s experienced since Morgan’s birth.
Suddenly, there’s someone at his side, and it’s like a bubble pops. Waves of relaxation ripple over his body, followed quickly by exhaustion, and he collapses against the wall, still rubbing at his stinging eyes.
“Tony,” the presence says. Peter says, that is. “It’s just a painting. I mean, I agree with Morgan, it’s incredible – probably my favorite painting ever, in fact. But... what was that all about?”
“I’m so sorry, buddy,” Tony whispers. He hasn’t called Peter ‘buddy’ in years, but it’s the only name that feels right at this moment. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you, but... Pete -”
“It’s okay,” Peter says, and Tony almost laughs because in no universe is it okay. “You’ve learned, Tony, I’m serious. Look at you now. I forgive you.”
Tony swallows hard and tucks his son into his side, kissing the boy's curls until they’re all he can smell. Maybe Peter forgives him, but he doubts he’ll ever forgive himself.
He shouldn’t.
But the kid’s right – he has learned – and damn if he isn’t going to keep on learning until he’s fucking perfect.