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Peter watches from his cross-legged position on the living room floor in great amusement as Tony and Pepper run around like headless chickens. He supposes he should go easy on them: it is their first time leaving the house to go on a proper date since the battle with Thanos and Tony’s long recovery following the loss of his arm, but he can’t hold in his laughter, especially when Morgan’s giggling away next to him.
“Pep, where did you put my sunglasses?”
Pepper sighs from her position leant up against the front door. To be fair, most of the running around like a headless chicken malarkey is being deftly handled by Tony. “It’s 7.30pm in October, Tony,” she says pointedly, raising her eyebrows. “Even if I had moved your sunglasses, and I did know where they were, why would you need them?”
Tony stops his frantic rifling through the hallway table clutter baskets and stares at her incredulously. “It’s my signature look,” he says indignantly, raising his hands – both human and bionic – in clear exasperation. “I can’t leave the house without my signature look.”
As tempted as Peter is to continue watch the comedy show being displayed for him absolutely free of charge (if for nothing else just to hear his little sister keep giggling as cutely as she is), he takes pity on his poor, hapless father.
“You left them in the car when you drove me home from school this afternoon,” he offers, pulling Morgan onto his lap.
“Silly daddy!” Morgan shouts before dissolving into another fit of giggles, burying her head in Peter’s t-shirt.
He can’t help but grin, mouthing ‘silly daddy’ over the top of Morgan’s head just to watch Tony stick his tongue out at him as Pepper rolls her eyes.
“Thanks for that, bambino.”
Peter’s grin widens. “Anytime.”
“Are you finally ready to go now, Tony?” Pepper sighs, her feet no doubt sore from standing in high heels by the front door for over half an hour.
“Couldn’t be readier,” Tony replies, but there’s a slight tremor to his voice that has Peter wondering if all the prevarication wasn’t entirely accidental. “Are you going to be okay with Morgs, Pete?”
“I don’t know, what do you think, Morgan?” Peter asks, watching fondly as she turns her head on his chest to look up at him. “Are we going to be okay?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Petey’s Spider-Man!”
Tony’s nervous expression quickly transforms into one of fondness. “Well, I can’t argue with that. You look after each other now, okay?”
They both nod in agreement, Peter pulling his little sister into an even tighter embrace. “We’ll be fine, dad,” he promises. “Enjoy your night with mom.”
Tony finally relents. “Love you both, bye babies!”
He and Pepper leave the house to a chorus of protests from both of his kids about decidedly not being babies but, knowing how much Tony loves teasing him with all his various nicknames, he’s sure it only made his smile wider.
As soon as the door closes behind them, Morgan launches herself from his lap onto the sofa. “No mommy and daddy!” she shrieks, bouncing up and down excitedly. Peter almost trips over himself trying to reach the sofa and ensure she doesn’t fall off and crack her head open or something equally horrifying.
“I know!” Peter says, trying to match her excitement without encouraging too much mayhem. “But how about we come down from the sofa, so we don’t hurt ourselves?”
“Okay!” Morgan agrees, far more easily than Peter expected she might. “Can we do some baking instead?”
Peter never used to be a baker. Before the Snap, the most he’d experimented in the kitchen was by using a different brand of cookies from a box than May usually bought. But when he’d returned to a world without May in it and moved into the lake house with Tony and his family, one of the first things he’d done after emerging even slightly from his haze of grief was help Morgan make cookies to bring into school for her birthday.
She’d promptly decided that was Their Thing and begged him to bake with her at every possible opportunity. He thought it was far too adorable to even begin to complain, especially when he loved doing pretty much anything with the ray of sunshine that was his little sister.
He glances at the clock and decides they have just enough time before she needs to be in bed, and what are big brothers for if not to let you do things mom and dad would say no to?
“How could I say no?” he grins, picking her up from the sofa and slinging her over his shoulder to carry her into the kitchen. She quickly fills his ears with delighted screams as he makes the walk over as fun as he can, dipping down low before swinging her over his head, being careful to ensure she doesn’t hit anything at any point.
“The Wiggles, Petey!” Morgan urges him from her seat on the counter as he gathers the ingredients. “Can we listen to The Wiggles?”
“FRIDAY?” Peter asks, in lieu of an answer, smiling as Wake Up Jeff starts playing over the kitchen speakers, Morgan immediately singing along.
It doesn’t take long for them to mix up the batter and spoon the biscuit mixture onto a baking tray, The Wiggles keeping them company the whole time. Peter listens fondly as Morgan chatters away about just as much anything, sending flour soaring across the island every time he lets her stir, and it’s just about the perfect evening in his opinion.
He sends her upstairs to get ready for bed while the cookies bake in the oven, sighing as he surveys the bombsite they’ve turned the kitchen into. Still, he tidies up diligently, and when the cookies are ready, takes a couple upstairs to share with Morgan before bed. He probably shouldn’t be giving a six-year-old sugar right before lights-out, but again, what are older brothers for?
“All ready for bed?” he asks as he enters her bedroom, bringing the cookies over to her bedside table and taking a seat on the edge of her bed.
Morgan grins up at him, her hair splayed across her pillow. “Yes, except I didn’t brush my teeth because I didn’t want to have minty taste in my mouth when I was eating a cookie.”
Peter nods sagely. “Well, that was very wise of you, Morgana,” he agrees. “Do you want to sit up so you can have your cookie then?”
“Can you read me a story while I eat it?” she begs him, brown eyes wide and pleading as she complies with Peter’s suggestion.
Peter grins. “Go on, then.” He selects their favourite bedtime story from the bookcase at the end of her bed and settles down to read to his little sister while she munches on their freshly baked cookies.
She’s droopy-eyed and sleepy by the time he puts the book down, so he collects the crumb-filled plate with one hand and runs a gentle hand over her cheek, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Sleep well, Morgs,” he whispers. “Love you 3000.”
“Love you 3000,” she murmurs back, her eyes already closed as she nestles down further into her covers.
Tiptoeing out of her room, he closes the door behind him and makes his way downstairs. He has a big test on Monday, and with Morgan asleep and his parents still not expected home for another few hours, it’s the perfect time to get some reading in. He makes the room as cosy as possible, turning off the big light and using Pepper’s favourite mood lighting and candles to set a nice ambience to his study evening. He’s not doing anything super intense anyway, all he needs is enough light to read over some academic papers to get multiple historians’ views on occupied France.
He pulls the blanket Pepper knitted him last month over his lap and lowers his computer brightness so as to not offset the ambiance he’s worked so hard to cultivate before opening up his first paper. Quickly getting lost in the interesting perspective the first historian has taken, time flies past without Peter noticing.
The next time he glances up at the clock, it’s edging 9pm, but Peter’s less concerned with that than he is with the noise that made him look up in the first place. It sounded like it came from outside, like a stone or something heavy hit the wheelie bin waiting on the driveway for the collection tomorrow morning. Immediately going into fight or flight mode, he closes his laptop and jumps up from the sofa, grabbing his web shooters from the hallway table.
As he creeps silently towards the front door, he hears two muffled voices through the wood, confirming his worst fears. “FRIDAY?” he whispers urgently.
“Two offenders, one superpowered, one civilian. They appear to be here unarmed and on a reconnaissance mission. They will not be expecting you to be home,” she whispers back.
Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. He handles people like this all the time, right? He has the element of surprise on his side, and FRIDAY will have notified Tony, so back-up is on the way. He’s never this nervous when about to confront the bad guys, but he usually doesn’t have his six-year-old sister asleep up in bed, and he’ll die before he lets anyone hurt her.
He realises suddenly that he can’t wait for them to try and enter the house. Even though the chances are they won’t be able to bypass the trifold security measures Tony has locking his house down, if they do somehow, the only thing separating them from Morgan will be a slab of wood in the form of her bedroom door. He’s safer in the house, he knows he is, but he simply cannot take the risk of them coming anywhere near Morgan.
He makes the decision before he can think better of it, and heads for the backdoor, slipping out silently, and waiting briefly to hear FRIDAY lock it shut behind him. He jumps up onto the outer wall of the lake house, utilising both the shadows of the house and the absence of creaky decking or crunching gravel. In the quiet of the night, he can hear their conversation almost perfectly, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at the absolute idiocy of this pair of fools who thought they could break into Tony Stark’s house without any consequences.
“Anything I can help you with, boys?” Peter asks jovially, relishing their shrieks of surprise as he jumps down from the wall, rounding the corner on foot.
As they whirl around in shock, he doesn’t hesitate to shoot webs at both of them, tying them first together before pinning them to the wall beside the front door. He actually snorts in laughter when he realises one of them has dropped a straightened paperclip, crouching down to pick it up. “You really thought you were gonna get into the Stark house using this?” he asks incredulously, mocking them with a raised eyebrow. “That’s cute. Iron Man’s on his way home and I’m sure he’ll have called for Avenger backup, so you two are gonna get a bit more than you bargained for tonight.”
“Fuck you, kid,” one of them spits, struggling against the webs pinning him to his equally stupid friend and the wood of the cabin.
“No, you listen here,” he hisses, anger surging in his body with such ferocity it almost scares him. He takes a step closer, any self-preservation instinct flying out the window. “Fuck you for trying to break into my house, putting my little sister in danger. If you ever, ever try and pull such a stunt again, you’ll be so fucking sorry—”
Before he can finish his sentence, one of their feet is shooting out and up with such speed and flexibility it could only be driven by superpowers, his boot aiming straight for his head. He has one moment of stunned silence, staring at them both before his vision blacks out and he feels himself crumbling to the ground.
Tony’s breath is immediately stolen from him as FRIDAY informs him of the happenings at the lake house. They’re at his favourite restaurant in New York City, and Pepper looks absolutely beautiful under the low, shimmering light, but instead of feeling any anger or grief at such a wonderful night being ripped away from him, all he feels is intense fear for his kids.
“Tony, what’s going on?” Pepper whispers urgently, and when he looks up at his wife, he sees the same fear he’s feeling spelled out across her features.
“There are intruders at the house,” he whispers, white terror burning violently in his cheeks. “One of them is super-powered, and I think—I think Peter’s going to confront them.”
“He’s what?”
“I don’t know, uh, he isn’t wearing his watch, so I can’t communicate directly to him. All I can know is what FRIDAY can see.”
“Shit, okay,” Pepper scrambles with her purse and jacket, “Tony, you have to get home. I’ll pay here and follow you in the car. Assemble the suit and get home to our boy, you hear me?”
Her movement is enough to snap him out of his terrified stupor, and he wastes no more time rushing outside as he presses the button on his watch, barely waiting for the suit to enclose completely around him before he takes off into the night sky.
“Talk to me FRIDAY.”
“Peter has left through the backdoor and is creeping around the side of the house towards the intruders, boss.”
His heart jumps in fear, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of both his kids vulnerable and without him there to help.
“If I may, boss,” she continues, “they do not seem the most intelligent of criminals, and they do not appear to be armed.”
His breath-taking fear is quelled slightly with her reassurances, but his kids still need him and he’s dozens of miles away.
He focuses on nothing else other than putting as much power behind his thrusters as physically possible for the next few minutes, until FRIDAY pipes up again.
“Peter has subdued and detained the intruders,” she begins, calming his heartrate significantly, before ramping it up right back up again with her next words, “but the superpowered individual has just kicked him in the head, and he is currently unconscious.”
“Oh no, no, no,” he whispers as dread resurges in his chest, somehow finding a bit more energy for the thrusters to propel him just a little bit faster. “Come on, Pete. Hold on until I get there, bud.”
Nothing prepares him for the sight of Peter’s unconscious body on his front decking, and as soon as he lands, he wastes no time in bending down to check him over. There’s a nasty cut and bruise on his forehead from the boot of one of the terrified, shaking men tied up on his porch, but aside from checking that the webs are definitely holding them securely, he pays them no mind. He’d asked FRIDAY to call Rhodey to deal with them, and Helen will be here with the MedEvac helicopter in no time.
All he can do is pull Peter gently into his lap and hold him tightly as he tries to hold in his tears. “Hold on, bambino,” he murmurs, biting back a sob. “Don’t make me lose you again, you hear me? Don’t you dare make me lose you.”
He holds his son’s slack body in his arms, certain that this day can’t get any worse, until Peter starts convulsing violently, making his chest squeeze in a whole fresh round of horror. “Peter?” he asks in shock, before getting a grip, moving him into the recovery position, placing his hand between Peter’s shaking head and the hard decking to cushion him.
“God, FRIDAY?” he sobs, unable to contain his tears any longer.
“MedEvac is three minutes out, boss,” she replies. “Peter appears to be having a seizure, but I am unable to diagnose him any further. Morgan is still fast asleep in her bedroom.”
Tony feels a flash of guilt for not worrying more about his daughter, but he can’t blame himself for having his seizing, bleeding, unconscious son at the forefront of his mind. The seizure only lasts a few more seconds before mercifully, Peter stops convulsing and wakes up.
“Pete?” Tony asks hopefully as he watches his son’s eyelashes flutter open, biting back a sob that’s partially borne from relief, and partly from horror at this entire situation. “Are you with me, baby?”
“Da’?” Peter slurs tiredly, blinking up at him before quickly closing his eyes as his entire face screws up in pain. “It hurts.”
Tony doesn’t mask his responding cry very well. “I know, bambino. Helen will be here soon, okay?”
Peter nods sluggishly before going limp again, passing out without any warning.
“No—Pete, Pete, baby, wake up,” he begs. “Don’t leave me again, please, Pete.”
He sobs loudly once when he realises Peter’s back under before getting a grip. “FRIDAY?”
“Peter’s seizure lasted 34 seconds, his current vitals are stable, and MedEvac is less than a minute out. Pepper’s GPS puts her 34 minutes away.”
Tony curses under his breath, realising that he’s probably going to have to wake Morgan up and take her with them if Pepper can’t get home before they have to fly Peter off to the Compound and the fully equipped MedBay there.
Still, for now he focuses on deep breaths, monitoring Peter for any signs of another seizure or regained consciousness, and within seconds he can hear the blades of the helicopter whirring. He doesn’t bother to cover his ears as the helicopter lands, not wanting to lose contact with Peter for even a moment.
As soon as the helicopter touches the ground, Helen, Rhodey, and two nurses rush out of the cockpit, making a beeline for them.
“I’ll deal with these two,” Rhodey calls over to Tony, looking murderous as he approaches the idiots who endangered his niece and severely injured his nephew, and all Tony can think is good. Let the man who did this to his son suffer.
“FRIDAY told me everything on the journey over,” Helen says to Tony as she kneels down next to Peter. “We’re going to need to rush him over to the Compound for immediate MRI scans to assess the damage. My instinct is he’ll recover fine with plenty of rest and monitoring, but I don’t want to take any risks, especially when we don’t know exactly how forceful the blunt trauma to his head actually was.”
Tony nods, biting back more tears in desperation at this whole, god-awful situation. “I need to get Morgan,” he says, unable to keep any of his emotions from his distressed tone.
Helen nods back, overseeing the attaching of a pulse oximeter to Peter’s limp finger, and Tony takes that as all the permission he needs to run into the house and take the stairs two at a time until he’s easing his way into Morgan’s room.
“Hey, Morgana, baby,” he whispers urgently, pulling back the covers as he tries to be as gentle and speedy as he can. “I need you to wake up for me.”
“Daddy?” she asks sleepily, stirring and immediately sitting up as she senses the urgency in her dad’s voice.
“Yeah, honey, it’s me. I need you to get up for me, okay?”
“What—why?”
“Peter’s hurt and we need to take him to the hospital, but mommy’s not here to stay with you yet.”
“Petey’s hurt?” Distress creeps into her tone, and he forces himself to stay as calm as possible so as not to worry her any further.
“The doctors are gonna make him all okay again, but we need to go now.” He stands up, scooping her into his arms as he grabs her dressing gown, slippers, and a StarkPad to keep her occupied until Pepper can take her home.
He takes her downstairs and out into the cold, thankful that they’ve already loaded Peter into the helicopter and Rhodey’s taken the intruders to the side so Morgan can be spared the worst of the scene.
He covers Morgan’s ear with one of his hands, pressing her into his chest to protect her other ear from the whirring of the helicopter blades. They step into the helicopter, and he straps her into a seat with the most blocked view of her brother, trying his absolute hardest to spare her as much trauma as he can.
“FRIDAY, can you divert Pepper to the Compound?”
“Already have, boss.”
A small portion of the fear in his chest has shifted slightly, Helen’s assurances of the likelihood of Peter’s full recovery ringing in his ear. Having both of his kids safe and within arm’s length while the threat posed to them all has been firmly taken care of is doing wonders for his heart rate. Still though, looking at Peter’s unconscious body being scrupulously monitored by multiple medical professionals, the urge to dissolve into a pile of panicked parent tears is overwhelming.
The first few minutes of the helicopter ride pass by relatively uneventfully until Peter briefly gains consciousness, managing a confused “wha’?” before immediately descending into another seizure, this time lasting 45 seconds. He passes out again straight afterwards, and the looks that the medical staff exchange have him fighting to keep his breathing calm.
“What’s going on with Petey?” Morgan cries, distressed at seeing her brother so unwell.
“Shh, it’s okay, Morgana,” Tony lies, forcing himself away from his unconscious son, as he recognises his conscious daughter needs him more right now. He comes over to unbuckle her and lifts her into his lap, holding her tightly against his chest, hoping she doesn’t hear his racing heart. “The doctors are looking after Petey, don’t you worry.”
Peter completes another cycle of seizing, gaining consciousness, and promptly passing out again before they land at the Compound, and Tony’s stomach is tied in such a knot of absolute panic that it physically hurts.
He is beyond grateful for Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky’s presence in the MedBay upon arrival, there to take Morgan off his hands so he can be there for Peter without worrying about what she’s being exposed to.
“Do you fancy watching a movie, Morgs?” he hears Bucky ask as they walk off down the corridor.
“Can it be Tangled?” she asks excitedly, making Tony infinitely grateful for children’s capacity for distraction.
Peter is rushed straight in for imaging, and Tony paces anxiously up and down the corridor until Pepper bursts through the doors, barrelling into him for a tight hug. “Is he okay?” she asks desperately, looking up at him with knitted eyebrows, reflecting the same heart-seizing fear he’d seen on her face back in the restaurant.
“I don’t know,” he whispers, barely able to get the words out past the blockage in his throat. “Helen said she thought he’d be okay, but he keeps passing out and seizing and—it’s terrifying, Pep. I can’t—I can’t lose him again.”
“Hey,” she says gently, cupping his cheek and getting him to look her in the eyes. “Our boy is strong, and he is tough, and he will make it through this, okay? He sacrificed everything to protect Morgan, you think he’s going to give up that position of protection easily? He’s not going anywhere.”
Tony tries to take solace in her words until Helen emerges from the treatment centre half an hour later.
“First of all, Peter’s going to be okay,” she assures them, and Tony just about collapses, the stress and fear having been the only thing keeping him upright. “Imaging places his TBI at a moderate level, so we’ve followed standards of care in monitoring his oxygen, blood supply, blood pressure, and preventing any further injury to his head or neck. In terms of treatment, we’ve administered the anti-seizure drug Phenytoin, some general diuretics to keep the pressure in his brain as low as possible, and we’ve also placed him in a medically induced coma just for the night. We want to give him enough time to heal without his brain fighting itself, trying to wake up.”
“Is that what you think happened earlier? The passing out and the seizures?” Tony asks.
Helen nods. “I think it’s likely,” she allows. “It’s a very uncommon reaction to a TBI like that, so I think Peter’s fast healing process was working against itself, causing him to gain and lose consciousness repeatedly. I also think that’s why he experienced seizures so quickly after the injury, as they usually occur further down the road during the healing process.”
“So, he’ll wake up in the morning?” Pepper asks anxiously. “And make a full recovery.”
“He’ll be absolutely fine,” Helen beams. “I’ll leave him in the safe hands of the night-shift for now, but I’ll be back in the morning to ease him out of the coma and ensure everything goes smoothly.”
“Thank you so much, Helen,” Tony says earnestly, at the same time as Pepper tells her she’s “an absolute life-saver.”
“I’d do anything for that boy,” she says honestly. “I think we all would.”
With that, she gives them one last reassuring smile so typical of her flawless, perfected bedside manner, and enters the lift up to the main floor.
They waste no time in going to see their son. Tony knows they could go and get a good night’s sleep in a real bed somewhere in the compound since he’s not going to wake up anyway, but the idea of leaving Peter alone for even a second makes his skin crawl. With grim, determined faces tinged with a touch of relief, they settle in for a long night.
The next morning, Peter blinks his blurry, sleep-filled eyes open to a roaring headache, Dr Cho, and his entire family surrounding him. It’s a bit much for this early in the morning. Wait, how early is it? And why does his head hurt this much, and why is his family gathered round his bed like he’s dying or something. Oh God, is he dying?
“Am I dying?” he asks, his mouth feeling dry and stale as though he hasn’t spoken in weeks, and he shifts uncomfortably against even the dim light in the room.
Tony lets out a rueful half-sob-half-laugh at his question, and he gathers just from that that he’s probably off the mark, but not by much.
“You’re not dying, Pete,” he reassures him, his fingers coming up to card gently through his hair in the way he always does when he wants to soothe him. “But you came pretty damn close.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Tony,” Dr Cho admonishes him, making Peter let out a short laugh that has his brain banging against his skull seconds later. “You sustained moderate head trauma and experienced some complications, but you’re going to make a full recovery. Are you in any pain?”
“God, yes,” Peter says, not ashamed to admit how much his head hurts, not after watching Tony’s brutally honest recovery after the whole Thanos incident. His dad really is a good role model.
“Well, let’s get that sorted first,” she replies, pushing something into his IV that has the pain easing over the next few minutes. “That should begin to work pretty soon. Now, can you tell me the last thing you remember?”
It takes Peter a minute to fight through the fog and pain clouding his brain, but one glance over at Morgan soon has it all flooding back. His eyes widen and he shifts upwards slightly, a muttered curse falling from his lips unbidden.
“Morgana,” he murmurs, reaching over to her quiet perch on her mom’s lap, tears quickly clouding his eyes. “Come here and give me a hug.”
She climbs onto his hospital bed gently, aided by Pepper to make sure she doesn’t hurt him or lay on something important, and Peter wastes no time in wrapping her up in the tightest hug imaginable.
“She’s safe,” Tony says softly, squeezing his hand. “All because of the reckless, protective instincts of her big brother.”
“Always,” Peter breathes into her hair, relief coursing through his veins that she’s alive and well and nobody harmed a hair on her head. “Always gonna keep you safe, Morgs, you hear me? I love you 3000.”
“I love you 3000,” she insists, planting a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek before Pepper lifts her off of him and onto her hip.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” she says knowingly, Dr Cho following behind her, seemingly happy enough with Peter’s health and wellbeing to give him a moment alone with Tony.
“You’re insane,” Tony tells him as soon as they’re alone.
“I couldn’t take the risk of them being in the same house as her,” Peter shrugs, knowing exactly what he’s talking about.
Tony’s expression is equal parts distressed at Peter’s lack of self-preservation instincts, and fond at his kids’ love for one another. “Well, I’d have done the same, so I suppose I can’t judge you too harshly. But God, Pete, you scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I guess I let my protectiveness and anger get the better of me. It won’t happen again.”
Tony raises an eyebrow. “I’m not so sure about that, but I know the feeling. Just think, Pete, how you feel about Morgan is how I feel about you. And her, obviously, but I think you forget sometimes just how loved you are.”
Peter looks up at him with big, round eyes, smiling. “Really?”
“Really, bambino,” he says, leaning forward to brush his hair from his forehead in a tender expression of love. “You know, I wasn’t scared for Morgan for a second, even when FRIDAY first informed me of the intruders, and I didn’t know any of the context. I knew you’d keep her safe. I just wish you knew how to do the same for yourself. I love you so much, Pete, you have no idea. When I thought I would lose you again, I—the pain was unimaginable. I don’t want to know what the world is like without you in it, but I do, and I think that makes the pain and the fear worse sometimes.”
“I’m sorry, dad, I never want to make you feel like that,” Peter whispers, looking down at the duvet, distressed at the thought of upsetting his dad so much.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Tony reassures him, lifting his chin back up to look him in the eye. “You’re safe, and alive, and that’s what I care about. I just need you to know how much I love you, and how badly your loss would hurt me.”
“I’ll try and look after myself a bit better,” Peter promises.
Tony smiles, his eyes watering slightly. “Thanks, kid.”
A moment of silence passes between them before Peter can’t help but let out a snort of laughter. “Those criminals were absolute idiots, though.”
“Utter buffoons.”
“Complete clowns.”
“The University of Montevallo wouldn’t admit them.”
They burst into peals of laughter, and the pain meds mean it doesn’t even hurt that much, so all Peter can do is enjoy a good laugh with his dad and be rest assured in the knowledge that his little sister is safe and well, and that is more than enough for him.