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The lights were bright, far too bright, Peter thought miserably as his eyes fluttered open. He tried to take in his surroundings, but his vision was blurred and swimming. Where was he?
The next thing he noticed was that he hurt. A lot. His head was throbbing as his vision swam more, his ribs felt too tight as he sucked in a breath and his throat felt raw and dry. His hand also seemed heavy, like he couldn’t lift it.
“Kid, you’re awake. ‘Bout time,” a voice said, relief flooding through it.
“Mr Stark?” Peter asked hopefully, realising that the reason his hand felt so heavy was that there was something on top. Another hand. The calluses were hard against Peter’s soft palm, calluses hard enough for an engineer, perhaps, one that would spend days working on projects. Projects like Peter’s suit. He almost smiled at the memory, the new suit, the one he’d told Tony smelled like a new car. Maybe he’d tell Tony now how much he loved the suits. Maybe he’d even ask to build one together. That would be fun, really, like how he built the lego Death Star with Ned. And it would be great to get a chance to bond with Tony, because really, you didn’t know when you’d get another chance with people you care about.
When silence followed his words, he asked again, “Mr Stark?”
His question was followed by a pause. A strange type of pause, one that lasted just half a second too long and told more than the answer that followed.
“Nah, sorry kid, I’m not him…”
Peter’s heart sank. Didn’t Tony want to visit him? He was hurt, in hospital… he’d been… he’d been shot hadn’t he? Maybe Tony had been already, he was a busy man after all, Peter tried to assure himself. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision enough to work out who was behind the vaguely familiar voice talking to him.
The white blur beside his face slowly became a shape. Broad shoulders, a black jacket with rolled up sleeves. Frank.
“Frank… has Mr Stark been?”
No answer.
“Frank? Can you hear me?” Peter asked again, voice growing more panicked. Was he hallucinating this all? Was it actually Tony’s hand against his, and not Frank’s? But something didn’t feel right. The calluses on the hand felt thicker than Tony’s were, more deeply furrowed and leathery. And there was one specific callus on the trigger finger.
“Yeah, I can hear you, daffodil.”
“Then please answer my question. It’s okay if he hasn’t been, I won’t be mad…”
“No, no… he’s not been, sorry, kid.”
“Oh,” Peter’s voice came out so small that Frank’s expression tightened, “Is he going to come?”
Frank shook his head sadly, “He’s not coming.”
Peter’s stomach dropped, eyes flashing with silent hurt. Didn’t Mr Stark want to see him? Why wasn’t he going to come? Had he messed up that bad?
“Why not?” Peter asked Frank, raw and desperate. For a moment Peter’s eyes flickered with a silent wish, that Tony was there instead. Frank saw it too. He pushed away the surge of hurt he felt, knowing he had to be there for the kid, because no-one else was. And he knew how damn hard it was to be alone.
Peter saw the way Frank’s face changed ever so slightly before he softly spoke the words Peter would never get out of his head.
“He’s dead, kid.”
“Dead? What do you mean?” Peter’s shaky voice came, “You mean like in a game…”
“No, I mean dead. Dead dead.”
‘Dead.’ The word hung in the air like a curse.
It felt like the temperature in the room plummeted. The way Peter’s eyes widened made Frank’s chest tighten. Peter muttered denials almost deliriously, panic filling his face, making monitors beep over and over, a cacophony of noise, but Frank didn’t do anything to stop it. He couldn’t, he was completely frozen, the beeping lashing out at him, digging into his memories. Alone in the hospital bed with nothing but a scar of the bullet through his head and the news his family was dead. Waking up surrounded by armed guards, screaming as he realised what he did, the people he killed.
‘Stop it,’ Frank told himself, ‘the kid needs you, snap out of it for god’s sake!’
The internal affirmations were joined by the footsteps of doctors rushing into the room, finally grounding him back in the moment. Instinctively, he reached his hand back out over Peter’s, slowly brushing his thumb against the boy’s hand as the doctors sedated him.
Frank ran his other hand down his face, looking sadly at the kid, keeping silent watch until he slipped into sleep too.
“Frank?” came a small voice, hours later. Frank awoke slowly, finding his hand still atop Peter’s.
“You alright? Well, that’s a stupid question… but you gave me a scare there.”
“Sorry,” Peter mumbled.
“Ah, it’s fine, can’t blame you.”
“No, I mean sorry for earlier.”
“Oh?”
A flush crept up Peter’s face. “For y’know… thinking you were Tony…”
“Hey, look, you’d just woken up, you were in a bit of shock. It’s all good.”
Peter nodded. “It’s just… I really miss him.”
“I know you do. I know how it feels to lose… people… people you love.” Frank’s voice was surprisingly thick with emotion.
“Are you crying?”
“Nah, whachu on about?” Frank denied, but Peter could swear his eyes were glistening.
“Mm, yeah yeah,” Peter replied, but his face sobered slightly.
“What’s the matter? I thought we were done with all this touchy feely stuff?”
The covers of Peter’s bed rustled slightly as he shifted underneath. “I don’t know… it’s just I really thought I had Tony back… I’ve lost my Aunt, my Uncle. And my best friend and my girlfriend. Well, only sort of, those two are still alive, technically, but you get what I mean; I can’t have them anymore. It just feels like I’ve got nobody.”
“I ain’t no Tony Stark, but you’ve got me, kid.”
“You don’t need to be him… you’re you. I mean Tony wouldn’t need rescuing on Staten Island… but you mean it? Really?”
“Really.”
Frank’s heart squeezed at the way Peter’s eyes lit up at those words.
“Pinky promise?” Peter asked, holding up his little finger.
“I ain’t making no pinky promise,” Frank tried to protest.
“Come on, you must have made one before.”
“Well, to the kids when they were…” his voice cracked slightly, “Oh… all right then.”
Peter grinned as their fingers intertwined. “And you’ve got me too.”
“Guess I’m stuck with you then,” Frank replied with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t quite hide his smile.
Frank stuck out one hand to Peter, who didn’t take it, and instead pulled Frank into a hug.
“You’re just trying to dodge actual affection,” Peter teased.
“You got to be freaking kidding me.”