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Peter had been in Mr. Stark's lab for just about an hour. He’d finally finished his homework and was eager to do something a little more interesting. He looked across the lab where Mr. Stark was sitting in front of a laptop, his fingers click-clacking across the keys at what was, frankly, an impressive rate. Whatever he was writing he was super focused on it. So focused that he didn’t even bat an eye as Peter began to traverse the distance between them.
With a glint in his eye, Peter grabbed a hold of a nearby support pillar and ascended towards the lofty ceiling. He planted one hand, then a foot, followed by his other two limbs. Then he gradually crawled his way over to Mr. Stark’s desk. He could barely contain his delight as he suddenly disengaged his sticky prowess and dropped to the floor directly in front of Mr. Stark.
A loud gasp escaped Mr. Stark’s mouth as he reached up to clutch his chest.“Christ. Pete!” he shouted, sending Peter into a fit of laughter. He sucked in a harsh breath and rubbed his knuckles over his sternum. “Are you trying to kill me? I have a heart condition!”
The dramatic reaction was exactly what Peter was hoping for. Something amusing to break away from the monotony classes and school work. He reigned in his cackling just enough to speak. “Don’t worry Mr. Stark.” He raised his hands in a placating manner. “Fear-induced stress cardiomyopathy is like- super-duper rare.”
Mr. Stark released an extended breath and leaned back his chair. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then asked, “How would you know?”
Peter grinned. “I looked it up.”
“Why?” Mr. Stark demanded, his face twisted into a look of combined horror and distrust. “Why would you look that up, Pete? Are you plotting more jump scares in my future?”
“No.” Peter continued to smile. But the truth was, as much as Mr. Stark liked to joke about having a heart condition, he really did have one. It was a result of the shrapnel that had pierced his body, the arc reactor he’d embedded in his chest and the eventual removal of both. Although, he’d never admit those were the reasons he’d started researching cardiac health. He shrugged his shoulders and rocked back on his heels. “I just like to know things.”
For a moment, Mr. Stark regarded him with scrutiny. His eyes narrowed and his hands cradled across his stomach. “You’re a weird kid; you know that?”
The words weren’t an insult. Peter could tell by the way Mr. Stark's lips twitched ever so slightly, upward. He tilted his head towards his own workbench. “I brought my suit with me. Can we talk about upgrades?”
Chuckling lightly, Mr. Stark sat up and gently closed his lap top. “Absolutely, Kiddo. What did you have in mind?”
Peter darted across the room, a million ideas already fighting their way to the forefront of his head.
A week later, as Peter bounced into the room, Mr. Stark looked up from his holographic designs. “Hey, Pete.” He smiled broadly. “Got any homework?”
Peter dropped his backpack beside his usual workbench and traversed the room. He approached Mr. Stark from behind and leaned over to drape his arms over his mentor’s shoulders and loosely around neck. ”Not really.”
“Not really,” Mr. Stark blandly echoed. He craned his neck to look over his shoulder. “You’re sure about that?”
“I mean I have some studying to do, but it’s Friday!” Peter laughed as he continued to hug Mr. Stark from behind. “I have all weekend.”
Mr. Stark smiled, reached up and firmly grasped one of Peter’s hands. “Are you still staying the night?”
Peter didn’t have to think twice. It was practically routine. As long as Mr. Stark wasn’t away for any kind of business, he spent Friday nights at the tower. Periodically, if his aunt allowed it, he spent Saturday night as well. He gave Mr. Stark another squeeze and laughed. “Uh, Yeah! Staying here is the best part of the whole weekend.”
Mr. Stark chuckled and propped his head against one of Peter’s arms. “Well, if you were planning on getting anything done, you’re going to have to let me go.”
“Fine,” Peter dramatically proclaimed. But he let go all the same.
For a while Peter sat down beside Mr. Stark to watch him work. He appreciated the way Mr. Stark moved his hands to twist and turn the designs. He enjoyed the glow of the holograms and the way they slowly rotated when left to idle.
Although it didn’t take long for him to realize that Mr. Stark was moving a bit slower than usual. Every so often, he would pause to rub his eyes or stretch his limbs. Peter didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t terribly unusual for Mr. Stark to go a day or three without an adequate amount of sleep. Especially when he was hyper-focused.
The current obsession appeared to be a new, higher efficiency jet engine. Peter looked around. Aside from the projected calculation and holographic designs, there didn’t seem to be much progress. A few tools and scraps were laying around near-by, but there were no parts or prototypes. Peter’s mouth twisted to the side in thought. Whatever the hang up was with the engine’s functionality must have been a doozy to keep Mr. Stark up all night. He considered pointing out the solutions would come more easily after a good night’s rest. But he bit his tongue. He had a considerably better idea. He grinned as he scooted just a touch closer to Mr. Stark’s side.
“Hey, Mr. Stark?” When Mr. Stark hummed and turned his head, Peter opened his eyes, wide and pleading. “Can we please order pizza?”
There was no pause as Mr. Stark answered, “Sure.”He looked down at his watch and tilted his head. ”Are you wanting to order it now? It’s only five-thirty.”
“Can we order it now?” Peter slumped to the side and placed an arm over his forehead like a fainting Victorian woman. “I’m starving!”
“You’re always starving.” Mr. Stark laughed as he poked Peter in the side. “But sure. Let’s order some pizza. FRIDAY?”
“Already done, boss.”
“Good girl,” Mr. Stark mumbled. He gathered a deep breath that turned into a yawn and massaged his left shoulder. “I suppose we can take a break when it gets here.”
Peter drew his lip between his teeth. Persuading Mr. Stark to take a short dinner break was good. But it wasn’t what he’d had in mind. “Actually,” he began. He looked through the projected hologram, towards the elevator. “I was thinking maybe we could go upstairs to watch a movie.”
Mr. Stark looked like he wanted to protest. His brow furrowed, and his lips pressed into a tight, thin tine. It only took a second of two for his expression to smooth into one of acceptance. The corners of his mouth curved upward as he inclined his head. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. We’ll make it a movie night.”
Together, they closed up the lab. They saved all progress and turned off the majority of the electronics before heading upstairs. Predictably, Mr. Stark went to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. Peter considered the way he leaned against the counter and ran his hands through his hair. He sighed and focused his attention to the numerous movies and television shows he had to choose from. He considered Star Wars, but changed his mind at least six times as he scrolled through the options.
A few minutes later, Mr. Stark poured himself some coffee and flopped onto the couch beside Peter. He brought the mug to his lips and took a long swig before allowing his head to plunge heavily against the back cushions. “What are we watching, Bud?”
“I was thinking we could watch that really old movie. You know the one where the kid and crazy scientist invent time travel?”
Mr. Stark opened his eyes and quirked a brow. “You mean, Back to the Future?”
“Yeah.” Peter smiled and queued up the film. He could feel Mr. Stark staring at him. He turned his head and asked, “What?”
“Kid.” Mr. Stark blinked incredulously. “I was your age when that came out. It’s not that old.”
Peter wisely chose not to comment about the movie being released well before he was even conceived. He simply grinned and nodded his head. “Uh-huh. There’s three of them. We could start a marathon.”
Mr. Stark tiredly chuckled. “Sounds good, Kiddo.”
The movie had just begun when FRIDAY announced the pizza had arrived. Peter instantly paused the screen and hopped up from his seat. “I can get it!”
“No, I’ve-” Mr. Stark began. He started to get up but rapidly changed his mind. He sank back down onto the couch and smirked. “Actually, that sounds like a great idea. I think we ordered three tons of food, and you have spidey-strength.” He flourished his hand toward the elevator. “Go put it to good use.”
Peter gladly went to collect the pizzas from the lobby. When he returned, he set the food down on the coffee table and unpaused the movie. He collected a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and started to eat. Mr. Stark followed suit, at a more sedate pace.
There was very little conversation as they ate, their attention mostly focused on the television. Peter shoved slice after slice of pizza into his mouth, as if he’d never eaten before in life. Meanwhile, Mr. Stark stopped after two, reverting back to coffee after he was done. Peter cracked a joke about more food for him. Instead of being rewarded with a laugh, Mr. Stark agreed.
“Good. Have at it. You’re a growing boy.”
Eventually, Peter popped one last piece of crust into his mouth and sighed contentedly. He wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin and tossed it into the empty cardboard box. He looked to the side. Mr. Stark was slouched against the corner of the couch with one foot propped on the very edge of the coffee table. Peter took the opportunity to get a little more comfortable himself. He pulled his legs beneath himself and leaned against Mr. Stark’s shoulder.
“Do I look like a pillow to you?” Mr. Stark quipped, but there was no bite to his words.
Peter snuggled in a little closer and hummed. “Maybe.” He looked up and wrinkled his brow, feigning internal debate. “You are comfortable.”
There was no resistance. Mr. Stark hummed noncommittally. Peter half expected to be playfully shoved to the other side of the furniture. When that didn’t happen, he allowed himself to fully relax.
The movie reached a quiet moment. During that time, Peter could easily hear Mr. Stark’s heart at work. It was beating its expected rhythm. There was a little extra noise followed by the typical sounds you would expect a heart to make. He allowed his head to fall a little lower and transferred his full attention to the comforting pattern. Except, as he listened more closely, he realized the additional noise was significantly louder and somewhat different than usual. He leaned in more closely to get a better listen. Something was defiantly- off. He sat up taller and studied Mr. Stark’s face. A barely noticeable grimace appeared, then disappeared just as quickly. But that was all it took to send Peter’s anxiety into full gear.
“Mr. Stark?” he quietly questioned. “Are you- are you okay?”
“Hmm?” Mr. Stark hummed, followed by a look of recognition. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine, Bud. Just a little indigestion.” He reached up and rubbed his hand over the entirety of his chest. “Probably from having all that coffee and pizza in one sitting.”
Peter refocused on Mr. Stark’s heartbeat just to be sure he was hearing it correctly. He gave it several seconds. But still, it didn’t sound the way he was used to it sounding. He was struggling to believe the shift, no matter how small, was insignificant. He shook his head and pulled his lip between his teeth. “I just- Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course.” Mr Stark sat up and leaned onto his knees. He folded his hands and sent Peter a quizzical look. “Why?”
“I don’t- something doesn’t seem right.” He looked from Mr. Stark’s face to his chest and back again. “Your heart-”
Mr. Stark sighed. “I’m fine, kiddo.” he leaned back again and wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I had a full work up just last month. Everything looked good.” He used his free arm to gesture widely. “I was cleared to proceed as usual.”
“But your heart-” Peter hesitantly repeated. The more he thought about it the ominous the situation became. But with no real medical knowledge he didn’t know how to explain his level of concern. “It doesn't sound like it usually does. You’ve been tired since I got here and you- you were like- out of breath after walking across the lab. I thought it was just- maybe you didn’t get enough sleep recently but now I’m not sure. I think- I think we should maybe call Dr. Banner.”
“Pete. Buddy. I understand that you’re worried. I get that. I really do. But I assure you, I’m perfectly okay. The extra sounds you're hearing are the result of some scar tissue in my left ventricle. And there’s absolutely no reason to consult Banner over me being tired and a little bit gassy.”
Peter gripped the neck of his shirt and wound it tightly around his fingers. “What if you have a heart attack?”
“What if I have-” Mr. Stark blew out a breath and ran a hand down his face. “You know what? If I have a heart attack, then you can call Banner. Not a moment before.”
“Okay.” Peter swallowed and untangled his hand from his shirt. Once it was free he brought this thumb up to his mouth to chew at his nail. “But you promise you’re okay? The sound in your heart- It’s different. Louder.”
Mr. Stark swayed his head and snagged the remote off of the table. “How about you take your ears out of stethoscope mode, and I’ll turn up the volume on this movie?”
Warily, Peter gave Mr. Stark one last glance over. He looked a little uncomfortable but didn't seem to be in any kind of distress. He drew in a calming breath and bobbed his head. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”
Despite the increased volume on the television, Peter couldn’t stop himself from periodically zeroing in on Mr. Stark’s heart beat. The amplification of the extra noise continued to thud forebodingly in Peter’s ears. Each time he listened, he’d glance at Mr. Stark’s face to ensure he wasn’t in any kind of pain. He never seemed to be. But he remained on edge. Enough so that he flinched slightly when Mr. Strak’s fingers lightly grasped the back of his neck.
“Easy, Pete. Just relax.”
“I am relaxed.” Peter replied, probably a little too quickly to sound believable. Yet, he kept talking, as if the rambling would improve his case. “I’ve never been any more relaxed in all my life. I’m the definition of relaxed.”
“Sure you are.” Mr. Stark chuckled. His fond smile swiftly faded into a more concerned expression. “That’s why you keep looking at me like I’m about to keel over.”
Peter wasn’t sure how to respond to that. What was he supposed to say? ‘ Actually, yes. Because I am enormously concerned about your mortality? Especially right this minute?’ He wasn’t persuaded he could voice any of that aloud. So, he said nothing at all. He merely sat there, pressed against Mr. Stark’s side with his lips clamped shut.
Mr. Stark sighed and pulled him in more closely. “Pete. I promise if I ever felt like anything was wrong with my heart- or anything else for that matter, I would consult a doctor. There are several right here at the tower; Banner included. Plus, I have a whole team of specialists across New York City. I’m an adult, Pete. If I need help, I will get help. Capisce?”
“Yeah. Capisce.” Peter nodded his head. The promise wasn’t alleviating. There was still an overwhelming sense of doom looming in the back of his head. But it did help to know that Mr. Stark took his health seriously; he would get help if he thought he needed it. He tried to force himself to relax.
The first movie ended. Peter took the break between films to change into more comfortable clothing and grab a blanket from the foot of his bed. By the time he got back to the living room, Mr. Stark had already pulled up the next movie. They resumed their previous positions on the couch and authorized it to play.
They were less than an hour into the second film, when Peter felt Mr. Stark stiffen beneath him. He sat up quickly, allowing Mr. Stark to sit up as well.
“Sorry, Bud. Just give me a minute.”
For a few seconds Peter sat there, his brows pulled together with worry. Mr. Stark was leaning forward, taking slow measured breaths. It looked like he was in pain.
Nervously, Peter asked, “Are you okay?”
Mr. Stark rubbed his hand over his chest and all the way up to his left shoulder. He grimaced as his hand made its way up his neck and to the side of his jaw. “Probably. Just feels- tight.”
Frettingly, Peter stood up, crossed his arms and began to chew on his thumb nail. “That sounds really bad, Mr. Stark.”
“It’ll pass,” Mr. Stark insisted. But when Peter really looked at him, he wasn’t too convinced. Mr. Stark’s skin had turned ashen and waxy, and a sheen of sweat had formed above his brow. Worse, Mr. Stark’s heart had taken on a whole new sound that he wasn’t quite sure how to decipher. A rush of anxiety washed over his body so quickly it physically hurt.
“I don’t think-” His words were broken off by a deep guttural noise. Peter’s eyes widened with terror as he watched Mr. Stark’s hand curl into his shirt and his breaths reduce themselves to short sharp puffs.
“FRIDAY?” Mr. Stark managed to force through gritted teeth. “Call-” His words were abruptly cut off by a strained grunt of distress.
Peter’s panicked eyes searched the room before meeting Mr. Stark’s. “Should we get Dr. Banner, now?” Mr. Stark sucked in stiff breath and bobbed his head. Peter nodded back and looked to the ceiling where he imagined the AI resided. “FRIDAY can you-”
“Already done, Peter,” FRIDAY replied in a voice that sounded entirely too calm for the situation. He wanted to yell and scream for her to take things more seriously. He was unable to utter a single word before her cheery voice chimed back in. “I’ve also taken the liberty of performing some preliminary scans. I’ve delivered those, along with a few other observations to Dr. Banner's device. ETA is three minutes.”
Three minutes sounded good. Dr. Banner would be there in three minutes and he would know what to do. That thought, while somewhat relieving, also made him feel utterly useless. Tears broke free as he frantically inquired, “What can I do?”
Before FRIDAY to reply, Mr. Stark jerked his head side to side. “Nothing.” He huffed a few labored breaths.“Let Banner do- his job.” For a few seconds, he closed his eyes and drew in a few long deliberate breaths. “I’ll be fine, Buddy.”
Moments later, Dr. Banner burst into the room with a wheelchair in tow. He kneeled down in front of Mr. Stark and placed two tablets into his mouth. “Chew,” he instructed, before acknowledging Peter’s presence. “Think you could help me get him into the wheelchair?”
Without hesitation, Peter took up Mr. Stark’s right side, while Dr. Banner took up the left. They helped him to his feet and into the waiting chair. Peter stood back after, still internally panicking as Dr. Banner started going through a quick list of yes or no questions with Mr. Stark. ‘Yes, he was able to answer questions. No, he wasn’t feeling nauseous. Yes, he was having difficulty breathing.’ There were at least two more questions to follow but Peter didn’t hear them. His mind had glazed over with trepidation. He was snapped out of the haze when he registered Dr. Banner starting to push the wheelchair towards the elevator.
“Wait!” He jogged forward, one hand outstretched. “I can come too, right?”
Dr. Banner used his hand to momentarily block the elevator doors from closing. “You can come as far as the writing room.” Peter absentmindedly bobbed his head and rushed to stand by Mr. Stark’s side.
The elevator ride was quick. Partially by design and partially, Peter assumed by FRIDAY’s directives. He could only imagine that the AI would recognize a medical emergency and act accordingly. In retrospect, he realized that had to be the case because neither he nor Dr. Banner had requested where they wanted to go. Yet, when the doors opened they had arrived at the tower’s emergency medical floor.
“Stay here, Peter,” Dr. Banner said as he scanned his badge for entry. Peter hesitated, but ultimately acquiesced. He wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and watched Mr. Stark disappear through the secured double doors.
For a minute or so, he simply stood there feeling numb from head to toe. He tried to listen to what was happening in the back. He squeezed his eyes closed and strained his ears but he couldn’t hear anything.He pressed his lips together and grabbed the sides of his hair. Apparently, Mr. Stark had soundproofed the walls within the in-house medical facility. It was infuriating, unsettling and completely unfair.
With a growl of frustration, he began to pace from one side of the room to the other. He was alone and scared, and didn’t know what to do with himself. Then May popped into his head. He needed to call May. She would know what to do. She always knew what to do. He took a seat on one of the many pale green, tight-back plastic sofas and pulled out his phone. He could text her. Although he wasn’t sure if or when she would reply. Being a nurse meant she was always busy on her feet. The only time she really checked her phone was when she was on break. He chewed frettingly at his lip before starting to type. He explained everything in several long back-to-back messages. After sending out the last one, he leaned back on the couch and sighed. It didn’t take long for restlessness to take over. Within seconds he was back to pacing.
By sheer luck, Peter managed to catch May during a rare lull in her schedule. She called him almost immediately; first and foremost asking if he was okay.
“I’m fine, May!” Peter inadvertently snapped. He instantly regretted it.“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just- Mr. Stark-” He choked down a small sob and ran his idle hand down his face. “May, I can’t- what if he- what if he doesn’t- get better? What then?”
After years of working in hospitals, from pediatric urgent care to level one trauma centers, May attempted to soothe him the best way she knew how. With Statistics. “You said he was responsive when he went back with Dr. Banner. That’s good, Sweetie. That’s really good.”
They spoke more. May used an entire fifteen minute break, offering as much reassurance as she could. It didn’t make Peter feel any less anxious. But it was enough to cease him from spiraling. At some point, he’d managed to stop pacing, choosing instead to stretch out on his back across one of the couches. “Thanks,” he whispered as May prepared to hang up. He sniffed and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes.
“Before I go-” May hesitated but only for a second. “Peter. Baby, please don’t hesitate to call me at the nurse’s station if there’s an emergency. If there is, I will take off as quickly as I can. Otherwise, I’ll see you at the tower the moment my shift is over, okay?”
Peter nodded his head, despite knowing she couldn't see him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you then.” He sucked in a tremulous breath and conveyed "Love you.”
Once May reciprocated the sentiment, the call ended. And just like that, Peter was once again left alone with his thoughts. He rolled off the couch, the synthetic material squeaking beneath him. Gradually, he approached the double doors. When he was directly in front of them, he listened attentively. There was still nothing to hear. He glanced at the scanner in the wall. He didn’t have his Stark Industries badge with him. Even if he did, he was reasonably certain it wouldn’t allow him to enter the restricted area. A thought entered his mind. He placed his hands on the heavy doors and peeked over his shoulder. No one was there to stop him. He gave them a gentle push. They were tightly latched, but it was clear they were no match for his enhanced strength. He could shove right through. He could check on Mr. Stark himself. He chewed on his lip, silently contemplating whether or not the rewards would outweigh the repercussions. A voice from behind him called his name, jerking him violently out of his thoughts.
“Peter?”
Startled, Peter whipped around to face the voice. He held his hands up in surrender and shouted, “I wasn’t going to!”
The room remained silent for a handful of seconds. Long enough for Peter to see past his panic. Captain Rogers was standing by the elevator wearing casual clothing and a decidedly worried expression. Peter lowered his head to avert the gaze.
“Dr. Banner told me what happened.” Captain Rogers approached slowly. When he got close enough, he placed a cautious hand on Peter’s shoulder. “He requested for me to come sit with you.”
Peter thought back. Had he behaved so childishly that Dr. Banner had felt like he required supervision? “I’m not a-” He paused when it hit him that his harried state was the more likely culprit. Dr. Banner didn’t want him to be left alone with his thoughts. His cheeks pinkened with embarrassment. “I don’t- I don’t need you to-”
“He also said to tell you that the specialists are here,” Captain Rogers interjected. They’re all doing their best; everything they can.”
Peter swallowed and slinked over to the closest seat. He sank onto it and buried his face in his hands. Mostly to conceal the way his eyes had begun to water. “Aunt May said he’ll probably be fine.”
The words were hushed and mumbled. Regardless, Captain Rogers heard them. Likely by employing his own enhanced hearing. He smiled and sat down on the cushion beside him. “Your Aunt’s a smart lady.”
Peter looked up. “There’s still a chance he won’t be.” His breath quivered as he inhaled. A tightly withheld tear broke free. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. It wasn’t as though he could pretend he wasn’t upset. He and Mr. Stark were close. Close enough that he and his aunt considered him family.
Family. That one word pierced him with a whole new brand of tension. Normally, when he came over for the weekend, Ms. Potts was there too. But at the moment she was nearly a week deep into a business trip, all the way in Dubai. If he was feeling out of the loop sitting right there in the waiting room, she was probably losing her mind. That is, if anyone had thought to inform her at all. He looked up at Captain Rogers, his eyes wide and pleading. “Does Ms. Potts know? Someone- Someone told her what’s going on, right? She knows?”
Captain Rogers, smiled softly. “I’m sure she’s been notified. But if it’ll make you feel better, I can send a message as well.”
Peter sat up taller. He wiped his cheeks and set his face into one of determination. “I could do it.” his voice wavered, in spite of his resolve. “I was with him when it happened. It should probably be me.”
Captain Rogers shook his head. “I’ve got it, Peter.” He rested his hand on the nape of Peter’s neck and gave it a light squeeze. “You have enough to worry about already.”
Miserably, Peter nodded his head. Even he could admit that he had plenty to worry about. Being able to scratch ‘Ms. Potts being unaware of the situation’ off the list sounded good. “Yeah, okay,” he relented. “As long as someone tells her.”
“If it’s not taken care of already, it will be.” Captain Rogers patted his thigh and leaned forward to stand up. “Now, how about a distraction, huh? There’s a baking competition marathon on channel twelve.”
There was still plenty of tension in Peter’s shoulders and his gut was still rolling with unease. Even so, he smiled ever so slightly. “Sounds good, Captain Rogers.”
Captain Rogers smiled back. He pulled an excessive amount of pillows and blankets out of the large visitor closest and piled them on the couch nearest the television. The furniture in the waiting room wasn’t the worst, but it was built for function rather than comfort. It was molded and firm to allow for easy cleaning. Adding a nest of washable bedding made them warmer- more inviting. It was nice.
In the nook at the corner of the room was a small kitchenette. There wasn’t much in it. A microwave, a single serve coffee maker and minifridge meant for leftovers. But along the counter were several baskets filled with shelf-stable snacks, coffee pods and a few other hot drink packets. Captain Rogers hovered around going through the options.“Tea? Hot chocolate?” He held up a basket of hot chocolate sachets in one hand and a basket of colorful tea bags in the other.
Peter’s first inclination was to shake his head. But as Captain Rogers dumped some chocolate powder into a cup for himself, the sweet smell wafted across the room. “Yeah, alright.” He sighed and leaned back on the pillows. “Hot chocolate sounds okay.”
Captain Rogers grinned.
The cup of cocoa was warm in Peter’s hands. He shivered, suddenly aware of how cold the waiting room was kept. He was grateful for the extra blankets. Captain Rogers sat down beside him and the television was turned on. Although Peter’s attention remained primarily on the unmoving double doors. Only once did they actually open. Dr. Banner came out, sometime during the wee hours of the morning, to tell them Mr. Stark was stable. No other details were divulged, but knowing Mr. Stark was no longer in danger smoothed out the sharpest corners of his anxiety. After that, his exhaustion won out he curled up beside Captain Rogers and fell directly to sleep.
“Peter? Peter, wake up.”
Peter groaned and rolled onto his back. He was on the verge of telling his aunt to give him ten more minutes when the previous night's events came rushing back into his head. His eyes flew open. He was met by the smiling face of- not May. “Ms. Potts?” He blinked a few times. When had she gotten there? She looked exhausted but that made perfect sense. She had in all likelihood jumped directly onto a place and hadn’t slept since. He glanced at the oversized clock hanging between two oversized windows. It wasn’t quite nine in the morning.
“You with me now,” Pepper asked. Peter clumsily sat up and bobbed his head. “Good. Because Tony wants to see you.”
“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s gaze shot to the twin doors leading out of the waiting room. “He’s- he’s okay?”
Ms. Potts smiled. “I’ve been with him for a couple of hours. He’s doing really well.” She heaved a weary sigh and canted her head in the direction of the kitchenette. “Why don’t you grab a quick breakfast. Then I’ll walk you back?”
Peter considered declining breakfast in favor of seeing Mr. Stark. Then his stomach grumbled in adamant protests. He smiled sheepishly and made his way across the room, stopping briefly in the restroom before grabbing a couple of cereal bars off the counter. He didn’t bother sitting down as he ate. He simply stood there, finishing both bars in record time. Ms. Potts handed him a bottle of juice. He thanked her quietly, then swallowed that down as well.
Ms. Potts had access to the back. She scanned her card and pushed through the doors, holding one open for Peter to enter as well. They walked down several long corridors. Each lined with a series of closed doors, intercoms and sporadically placed art. Eventually, they reached the correct room. “This is us,” Ms. Potts said as he walked through the door, leaving it open for Peter to follow. Except he didn’t. He remained in the hallway, his lip between his teeth as he looked inside.
Mr. Stark was in a hospital bed, propped in a near upright position. There was an IV port in his hand, and what appeared to be dozens of wires were emerging from below his pale powder blue hospital gown. He appeared to be at ease. His eye lids were drooping, but there was a smile on his face and color in his cheeks. He looked alive, which was all Peter could have possibly asked for.
Mr. Stark picked the mug up off of his breakfast tray and looked into it. “This is tea, Pepper.” He frowned and set it back down again. “I said I wanted coffee.”
With a shake of her head, Ms. Potts moved closer to the head of the bed. She picked up the drink and placed it back into Mr. Stark’s hand. “And I said, the doctor wanted you to reduce your caffeine intake.”
Grudgingly, Mr. Stark gave the contents of the mug another glance. “So get me decaf.”
“You hate decaf.” Pepper smiled; nearly laughed. “The last time I gave you decaf, you threatened to sell my art collection and donate the proceeds to Clowns Without Borders.”
Mr. Stark hummed. He set the cup back down, exchanging it for a piece of toast. He took a bite out of the corner, grimaced and pitched it back onto the plate. “It’s a worthy cause.”
“Tony…” Pepper sighed, but her face was shining with mirth.
Mr. Stark sighed too. He took a sip of the hot tea and frowned. “You know you could give me the decaf and lie about it like a normal person.” He just so happened to look to his right and spotted Peter lingering in the doorway. “Hey, Kid!”
Peter smiled tightly. He shuffled over to the bedside, standing opposite of Pepper. There was something about seeing Mr. Stark in a hospital bed that made him feel uneasy. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Are you okay?”
Before anyone could answer, Ms. Potts squeezed Mr. Stark’s hand. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?” She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek and placed an accusatory finger on his chest. “Be good, Tony. I mean it.”
Mr. Stark scoffed. Ms. Potts vacated the room and Peter continued to shuffle his feet.
“I’m okay, Peter,” Mr. Stark ultimately answered. He gathered a deep breath and stifled a yawn. “At this point, I’m just tired- the normal kind of tired that comes from spending the night in the hospital.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Peter’s eyes traced the wires going from Mr. Stark’s chest to the nearby medical equipment. “Like- really sure?”
“I’m convinced I’m doing better than I was last night.” Tony smirked, but Peter wasn’t impressed. “I’m all good, Bud. Really. The only reason I’m still here is that they insist on keeping an eye on my vitals for another twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
Peter nodded and looked around the room. “What all did they do?”
Mr. Stark shrugged his shoulders. “The usual. Put in an IV, gave me some medication- took just about every kind of image imaginable; some of them twice. At this point, I’m pretty sure I’ve been zapped with enough radiation that I might hulk out.”
Even though he was convinced Mr. Stark had left out a lot of details, Peter cracked a smile. He opened his mouth to say something about hulking out being Dr. Banner's thing. But all that came out was a massive yawn.
The amusement on Mr. Stark's face morphed into soft concern. “Did you get any sleep last night, Bud?”
Peter reached up with both hands to rub at his eyes. “A little bit. Captain Roger’s stayed with me. We watched some weird baking show.”
The rolling table that had been positioned over the bed was pushed away. “Should we take a nap?” Mr. Stark scooted a few inches to the side and patted the space beside him. “All the beds in here are extra wide. There’s plenty of room.”
As far as Peter could figure, he’d only gotten about four or five hours of sleep. Normally that would be enough to function but with the added stress, he didn’t feel all that rested. He twisted his mouth to the side in thought. A nap sounded really good. Except- “May’s coming around eleven.”
“Plenty of time, then.” Mr. Stark lowered the mattress into a more horizontal position. He adjusted the blankets and tucked all the tubes and wires to one side so they wouldn't get tangled or disconnected. “Besides, all the doctors and nurses here like you. If we’re both asleep, they’ll be less likely to wake me up for yet another exam.”
Hesitantly, Peter climbed into the bed. He turned onto his side and laid his head directly onto Mr. Stark’s chest.
“How does it sound?” Mr. Stark asked.
Peter closed his eyes and listened extra closely. The extra sound was still a little louder than it had been before. But no alarm bells were going off. The heart monitor in the corner was beeping in time with the steady beat. There was nothing to indicate there was a problem. He might just have to get used to the new rhythm. It was fine. As long as Mr. Stark was okay. “It sounds good,” he murmured. “It sounds like- you.”
Mr. Stark hummed and placed a warm hand on Peter’s back. “You’re not worried anymore?”
“No.” Peter swayed his head and craned his neck to achieve eye-contact. “But you’re never allowed to joke about having a heart condition ever again. Like ever. With anyone.”
Mr. Stark chuckled languidly. He ruffled Peter’s hair and gently guided into a more comfortable position. “You got it, Bud. No more heart jokes.”
“Good.” Peter yawned again. His head rose and fell with each of Mr. Stark’s breaths. It was relaxing. As was the sound of Mr. Stark’s beating heart. He lay there for a while, satisfied to simply be there. Eventually, the breaths and beats slowed into a sleepy pattern. He wrapped an arm around Mr. Stark’s middle and smiled, feeling content and ready to go to sleep himself. “G’night, Mr. Stark,” he said, keeping his volume low enough to not be disruptive. “Love you.”
He didn’t expect a response. He didn’t need a response. But as a strong arm tightened around him, he realized that Mr. Stark wasn’t quite as asleep as he’d thought. He readjusted himself to look up. Mr. Stark’s eyes were still closed but he was smiling fondly.
“I love you too, Buddy,” Mr. Stark whispered. “With my whole heart.”