Work Text:
Hair’s Breadth From Death (impaled)
***
The day had been going so well, too.
Peter isn't sure how he always ends up getting himself into these types of situations, he really doesn't. But the fact remains that if there's trouble, Peter Parker is not far away.
There were more of these guys than he counted on, and he’s getting slammed around a little harder than he expected. They’re kids, mostly, a group of local gang members who have been dealing tainted drugs. Peter’s been following some of them around in hopes that they can lead him to the people behind the scenes so he can pass all the information on to the police.
Unfortunately, tonight did not go as planned.
Peter grunts and shoots off another flurry of webs toward an advancing opponent. He’s desperately trying to keep anyone from getting hurt because he knows that these are just misguided teens who have been hanging out with bad company. Because of this—and the number of gang members he’s fighting—he’s a little distracted.
His spider-sense alerts him to something coming on his right. He throws out a web and spins, but one of the bigger guys in the group manages to get a good lick in, sending Peter backward into one of the warehouse-storage-type place’s walls.
Pain blossoms in his abdomen, and Peter realizes that his night has just gone from bad to worse.
***
Tony is busy avoiding sleep, as per usual, ignoring Pepper’s requests to give up on his tinkering—her word—and come to bed when his phone buzzes with an incoming call. He glances at the caller ID and frowns, because it’s way too late on a weeknight for Peter Parker to be bugging him.
“Don’t you have school in the morning?” he asks in lieu of a greeting, still firmly engrossed in his current calculations. Definitely need to remember to add—
"Mr. Stark?"
Tony narrows his eyes at the wavering voice on the other end of the line. Not normal, bubbly Peter Parker. "I thought we were past the whole 'Mr. Stark' thing."
All he hears in response is labored, wheezing breaths, and he immediately stands to his feet, already pulling up the kid's location. "Peter? What's wrong? I need you to tell me what's going on. This better not be some stupid prank," he adds as an afterthought, even though the sinking feeling in his gut knows better.
"No, it’s, uh, um…I—I need some help."
Okay, yep. Something is majorly wrong, because Peter doesn't ask for help unless he's a hair's breadth from death, thanks to Tony’s handling of the whole Vulture situation—they’re working on it. They’ve both come a long way in their relationship since, but the fact remains that the kid is too stubborn for his own good—yet another shared trait of theirs—and he incessantly spams Tony sometimes but he doesn’t call at two in the morning for fun. Well, other than that one time, but—
Tony snaps back to the present when Peter coughs. "Are you hurt?"
A grunt. "Yeah—yeah. A little."
Every alarm in Tony's body is going haywire now, and he finally pinpoints Peter's location. He needs a suit—he needs it right now. "Okay. Okay. I'm coming, bud, just hang tight." He knows he should be asking more clarifying questions, trying to figure out what could be wrong, but his mind is blank. All he can think is get to the kid.
Peter snorts weakly.
"What's so funny, huh?" Tony asks, trying to keep his tone light even as worry courses through his veins. The Iron Man suit finally forms around him, and he transfers the call there from his phone, locking in the command to take him directly to Peter.
"You, uh, you said hang tight," Peter mumbles. "I kinda…kinda don't have a choice."
Horror sparks in Tony's chest. "What do you mean?" he demands, willing the suit to move faster through the cold night. "Kid, what happened?"
"So, um…I was fighting these guys in this big, like, abandoned warehouse?" the kid says, and he's slurring a little and Tony totally isn't panicking.
"Okay," he says slowly. "And then what? Are they still there? Do you need—?"
"No, no, they ran off." Peter sounds embarrassed. "But, well…long story. I'm kinda pinned to the wall."
Pinned to the— "Pinned how?"
Silence.
Tony thinks his heart might burst right out of his chest. "Peter Parker, if you don't answer me this second—"
"Um, in the words of Olaf… 'I've been impaled.'"
"Impaled? " Tony nearly shouts, the warehouse coming into view below. He practically nosedives in his effort to get down there faster. He’s not sure what shocks him more: the fact that Peter is injured, or the nonchalance with which he made a ridiculous movie reference to inform Tony of said injury.
Both, Tony decides.
“Don’t freak out, Mr. Stark, please,” Peter says to him, as if that would actually keep him from freaking out. “I’m—I’m already a little…little freaked out. So if you—freak out…yeah, it’s not gonna be a good time.” The kid sounds completely out of breath now, and his voice is fading as he speaks.
Tony forces himself to take a deep breath as he lands and just about busts down a door to get inside. “Save your breath, kid, I’m coming. And don’t move, you hear me?”
Peter just grunts his agreement.
The lighting inside the building is dim, but it’s enough for Tony to make out the various objects and debris lying around. It’s clear that this place hasn’t been used—at least by anyone other than extremely shady characters—in quite some time. Tony zones in on the kid’s slim figure across the open room, and retracts the suit’s helmet as he rushes over.
Upon his arrival, Peter reaches up and painstakingly pulls his own Spider-Man mask from his head, revealing pained eyes but a little grin. Mussed curls fall into his face. “H—hey. Sorry—sorry to b’ther you.” His other hand is pressed firmly against his stomach.
Tony’s own stomach does a somersault.
“I don’t th—think it hit anything vital,” Peter tells him, letting out a careful, shuddering breath. “Didn’t…go in too far. But I’m afraid to move because, y’know—it’s prob’ly keeping most of my blood in my body.”
“Okay,” Tony says, trying to shake himself out of the panic welling up in his chest and force himself to get a better look at the kid’s current dilemma. “You’re fine. I’m gonna get you out of here, and we’ll go straight back to the Compound and get the doctors to fix you up. Sound good?” He’s rambling, but he needs a distraction for both of them.
Peter swallows hard, and that’s when Tony knows things are bad, because the kid usually never stops talking. Shock, he thinks.
“Just…let me see what we’re dealing with,” Tony mutters, ever so carefully moving to get a better look at what’s impaling the kid. It’s difficult to see, but it’s some sort of giant nail or screw, or maybe a piece of rebar. He’s gonna have to use tools from the Iron Man suit to remove it from the wall in a way that doesn’t jostle the part of it that’s in Peter.
When Tony pulls back, he notices that the kid’s eyelids are beginning to droop. “Hey, nope, nope, nope—Peter, you cannot go to sleep right now.” Tony pauses to pat the kid’s cheek and brush his curls out of his face. “You hear me? I will ban you from Spider-Manning for a month if you don’t stay awake.”
Peter’s nose scrunches up in displeasure. He tilts his head in the slightest shake. “Can’t…can’t do that.”
“Um, yes, one-hundred percent can.” Tony returns to the task at hand. He needs to stay calm for the kid’s sake. “If May doesn’t ground you first.”
Peter groans. “Do we have to tell her?”
“Oh, no, of course not. Because she’s totally not going to wonder why her nephew has a gaping wound in his back.” The snarky reply comes forth without thought, and Tony almost gags when he realizes what he said. The words “Peter” and “life-threatening injury”—or anything remotely similar—do not belong anywhere near each other.
Tony shakes his head to clear the thoughts and prepares to start sawing through the offending object. “Bud, this is probably going to hurt pretty bad, but I need you to try and stay as still as possible.”
“Okay.” The whispered agreement is barely audible.
Tony doesn’t waste any more time. It takes less than a minute to carefully cut through the piece of metal, but it feels like an hour. Each pained grunt and whimper that escapes Peter throughout the process breaks Tony’s heart a little more.
When the rebar snaps off the wall, Peter’s knees immediately buckle, and he lets out a wounded cry.
Thankfully, Tony has one arm already steadying the kid to keep his movement to a minimum. “I’ve got you,” he says breathlessly, noticing the tear tracks on Peter’s face for the first time. “You’re gonna be okay, yeah? You’re fine—you’re all right. Let’s get out of here.”
Peter doesn’t respond.
Tony absolutely books it back to the Avengers Compound—as fast as they can safely go—and he barely has time to blink before Peter’s now-limp form is being pulled from his arms and rushed into surgery..
He manages to let Pepper know what’s going on—she is the calming presence he needs and immediately takes charge of the situation. She reaches out to the kid’s aunt and has a driver go pick her up right away, and she tries to reassure Tony that everything will be okay.
But Tony isn’t easily pacified. Seeing the kid like that, it did something to him. Not that anyone wants to see a teenager in that sort of situation, but this is…different. More than general worry or a sense of responsibility when it comes to keeping Peter safe. He’s tried to deny the truth for a while now, but even Tony Stark—master of hiding emotions—can no longer pretend that there isn’t something deeper with the kid. Peter has somehow managed to awaken the soft side of him that only comes out when people like Rhodey or Pepper are around. He’s become rather attached to the little nerdy Spider-Boy.
Who may or may not be dying in the operating room right now.
And he’s probably fine, he’ll more than likely be good as new by the end of the week. But Tony doesn’t know that for sure. He really doesn’t. Because the kid is strong and thinks he’s invincible, but the truth is he’s still just a kid, and with or without superpowers, something like this could kill him. And Tony can’t deal with that.
So he paces, and he waits anxiously for news regarding Peter’s condition.
***
“You were worried about me.”
“Nope, not one bit.”
“You were, Mr. Stark! You were almost crying when you came in to see me after the surgery.”
Tony snorts. “You were still loopy from the drugs they gave you.”
“Was not.”
“Was too.”
“Was not.”
“Was—” Tony stops, hearing Pepper’s voice in his head. Tony, are you really arguing with a teenager? He huffs in exasperation. “Fine, yes, I was worried. Happy?”
Peter eyes him scrutinizingly for a minute, and then he shrugs and nods. “I guess. Could work on sincerity, though. Next time—”
“Whoa, hold up. Did you just say ‘next time?’ Is that what I heard?” Tony stands to his feet, shaking his finger in Peter’s direction. “Because there is not going to be a ‘next time.’” He doesn’t add that he’s already working on multiple designs for a more durable Spider-Man suit—one that is both bulletproof and impenetrable.
“Oh, no, of course not,” Peter readily agrees. He holds his hands up in surrender. “It wasn’t a good time. Zero out of ten, don’t recommend.”
Tony wants to facepalm. Kids.
“But, um, seriously,” Peter says. “Thanks for coming get me.”
As if he really thought Tony wouldn’t. “Anytime, bud.” He leans in closer. “And hey, just for the record—I was definitely, very sincerely worried about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Tony waits a moment, then smirks. “I can’t have one of my best backup Avengers sidelined. What if there’s some unexpected, world-ending threat? I need Spider-Man on his A-game for that.”
Peter grins back and shakes his head.
Tony thinks they both hear the words that go unspoken.