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There was blood. Too much blood.
Tony swallowed back panic as he stepped out of his suit, approaching the red-and-blue figure sprawled motionless on the ground. You better not be dead, kid.
He knelt and placed a hand on the kid's shoulder, and when it didn't rouse him, carefully pulled the mask off his head. He visually checked the boy's face for injury: clear.
He gently patted Peter's face. "Hey, kid. C'mon, wake up. You're not hurt; you just think you are."
The boy's eyes fluttered, then opened, though it took several seconds for them to focus. "M-Mr. Stark?"
"No, it's Santa Claus. What do you want for Christmas?"
"Oh, well, uh, I could really use one of those-" he began shaking uncontrollably. "Mr. Stark? I…I th-think something's wrong."
"I'd say so." Tony kept the conversation light even as he cradled the boy's head in his hands. "Friday," He whispered, "scan for injuries." He continued in a normal voice. "You had a party without me, kid. Do I need to ground you for not inviting me?"
"I d-did. That's when you g-got the SOS alert."
"Is that all I am to you? A vending machine? You're definitely grounded."
"Deep laceration on the lower back, boss. Still bleeding. It doesn't look good."
Tony took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, stood and stepped out of his suit. "Okay, kid, here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna roll you over so I can stop this bleeding, and you're gonna stay alive for me. Sound good? Yeah? Good." He knelt and ripped his jacket off, then grasped Peter's shoulder. I'm sorry, kid. "This might hurt a tiny bit, but you’re a tough guy." as gently as he could, he rolled Peter onto his side.
The boy gasped and let out a groan.
Tony quickly spotted the point of injury, stuffed his jacked tightly against it, and set Peter back onto it.
Peter gave a strangled cry and went limp.
"Oh, no you don't, Sleeping Beauty." Tony slid his fingers beneath Peter's head, tapping the boy's cheeks with his thumbs. "It's not your bedtime yet."
Wake up, kid.
When the boy still didn't stir, Tony lifted one hand and gently slapped Peter's face. Still no response.
"Kid, don't do this to me. You plus passing out equals bad news." He couldn't keep the edge of panic out of his voice, even as it rose in volume. "C'mon, kid. Wake up."
When there was still no response, he slapped Peter's face again—hard. " Peter! "
The boy's eyes blinked open sluggishly. "Did you…just hit me…Mr. Stark?" His voice was pathetically weak, but it was there.
Tony let out a long breath and dropped his head for a few seconds before raising his face to look at the boy again. "It's this reflex I have. Y'know, if someone irritates me."
"Oh, right, I forgot." Peter's eyes drifted shut again.
"Don't pass out on me again, kid."
"I'm not, I just…wanted to…close my eyes for a sec. Sleepy."
Tony jostled the boy's shoulder. "I didn't have time to call an ambulance, so you're gonna have to stay awake and fight this thing until your body does its…y'know…thing."
"But I'm tired, Mr. Stark." He was slurring now.
"Sorry, kid, but babysitting 101 taught me not to let the child sleep when it's not naptime, and I've already failed once, so let's not make me a total failure, all right?"
"Sure thing, Mr. Stark…lemme just…rest my eyes for a minute first."
Tony rolled his eyes and sighed. "All right, kid; you've left me no choice." He turned to where his suit still waited. "Friday, play Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC."
The boy groaned as the opening guitar riffs blared from the suit. "Loudspeakers, Mr. Stark? Really?"
"Can't hear you." Tony nodded his head to the rhythm. "Feeling better yet?"
Peter slowly raised a hand to rub his forehead. "I was…my head hurts now."
"Well, I won't tell you what was gonna hurt if you went to sleep on me again. Consider this a blessing." He shifted, wincing when his knee scraped a loose pebble. "Look, I'm in extreme discomfort here. Are you up for a little travel?"
Peter blinked up at him. "Uh…sure."
"Great. Friday, turn off the music." Tony sighed in disappointment when the song faded to silence, then stood and stepped back into the suit. "Can you stand, or do you need me to carry you?"
"No, I-I think I can get it." Face contorted in concentration or pain—Tony couldn't tell which—Peter struggled to his feet. His knees buckled. “Ow.”
"Okay there, Caillou, I can take it from here." Tony stepped forward and caught Peter before he hit the ground, careful not to reopen the wound. "You lost a lot of blood, kid, and I'm in a hurry. Let's just save the argument and agree that I'll get you home my way."
As they lifted into the air and turned in the direction of Aunt May's house, Peter gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, Mr. Stark."
"Don't get used to it. And don't tell Happy, either; he'll be jealous." You're welcome, kid.