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On the top ten things Tony was expecting to happen, his kid tumbling through his window at 3am was not one – actually, no, no it pretty much was. It was a little too common for his kid to be out way past his curfew, and coming in through the window was also more than normal.
They'd moved back to the tower with Morgan in tow after beating Thanos, and while they hadn't told Peter this, it was largely to be closer to the kid who still needed to go to school. Tony, who had been going insane for 5 years without his kid, had demanded upon his kid's return (and the rest of the population, but that wasn’t the point) that both he and May also move into the tower, and May at least seemed to understand it. In fact, she was the one who approached him and told him to ask Peter if he wanted to be adopted. She would always be his aunt and had zero plans of leaving, but she could also tell that Peter was very much Tony's son, at least in his eyes. So yeah, Peter tumbling through the window at unholy times in the night was far from unusual, though it was more common he went through his own window, not Tony's.
"Heyo kid, did you need something?" Tony asked, putting down the parts he'd been working on and keeping his voice low so as to not wake Pepper – yes he was working on parts while in bed, it was comfy and Pepper had wanted him to come to bed even if he couldn’t sleep, so this had been the middle ground.
"Hi dad," Peter coughed, stumbling forwards until he reached the bed, his hands reaching out to steady himself. Immediately, Tony was on guard, reaching out to catch Peter before he fell.
"Shit, kid, what happened?"
"Asshole villain, I got him, but I think he snapped every single one of my ribs. Like in half."
Tony swore under his breath, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pulling his kid's suit down to reveal mottled purple skin, dried cracking blood, and basically a parent's worst nightmare. Gently, careful not to press too hard while also forcing himself to ignore his kid's wincing and flinching, Tony checked over his ribs.
"What did he hit you with, a battering ram?" Tony asked, trying to fall back on the comedy that he always relied on when his emotions started to get a little too close to panic. He refused to have a panic attack in front of his kid if he could avoid it at all.
"Would you believe it if I said his own damn skull?" Peter grumbled. Tony raised an eyebrow, still checking over the ribs, but making sure his kid knew he was listening, "Metal skull, or so he said. That and some sort of super strength. Basically rammed into me repeatedly."
Finally, Tony pulled back, grimacing at what his assessment had found.
"You weren't kidding about him cracking every rib, I think you've managed to keep one completely in tact, and two are definitely just cracked, but the others are either damaged badly or fully broken. We're gonna need to get you down to medbay."
"I'm fine, it'll heal," Peter argued, because the kid had zero self preservation skills.
"We don't want it healing wrong, so we are going to go to medbay," Tony insisted, pushing himself up, "You're lucky i'm not telling you off for swinging home while this injured. I'll leave that for Pepper, she can lecture you about that one in the morning."
Peter seemed to relax, breathing in relief at the words. That seemed... odd? No one was ever relieved at the prospect of a Pepper Potts Lecture.
"You're not waking her up," Peter explained quietly, "I didn't want her to worry."
Tony held back the heavy sigh that threatened to break through and instead lead his kid towards the elevator. He wanted desperately to lift the kid and carry him, to smother Peter in care, but he knew the kid would fight him off if he did, and that would likely damage the ribs even more, so he settled for paging Dr Cho so she would be ready to meet them by the time they got to the medbay.
All things considered, despite the insanity of just how many ribs were broken, everything was going fairly well, Peter was still in one piece and moving – which again, insane, but Peter's pain tolerance always had been, and boy did that not scare Tony. Regardless, everything had been going relatively well, and Tony just had to be foolish enough to think those exact words.
Peter's foot caught on the edge of the elevator as they stepped into the medical wing.
Immediately, his breaths were rasping and panicked, his eyes wide as he looked up at Tony from where he was frozen in place, half pushing himself up off the floor where he had fallen.
"Dad?" Peter chocked out, his arms shaking, but he dint move, didn't extend them or bend them further, just hovered in that awkward position, almost as though he were halfway through a push-up.
"Pete?" Tony fretted, practically falling to his knees in his haste to get closer to his son, to work out what was happening.
"I think... I think my broken rib just hit something it shouldn't have."
Tony blinked, Peter dropped his head, his breathing getting more ragged, but also stretching out, as though he were trying not to breathe.
"Fuck, kid, what– do– I'm going to get Dr Cho. Don't move," Tony rambled, that panic that he'd decided wasn’t required and had locked away, now suddenly rushing forwards.
"Wasn’t planning to," Peter grumbled, and if it weren't for the agonised underlying tone, maybe Tony could have laughed, instead he was rushing to his feet and yelling for Dr Cho as he pounded into the medical wing.
"What are you doing making such a racket in my medbay?" Dr Cho reprimanded, appearing from behind a curtained off area. Tony didn't care if there were other patients, not when his kid was out there, frozen in panic. Peter didn't panic. Not when it came to injuries. Sure the kid would work himself into a frenzy debating the intentions behind a single offhand sentence from a classmate, but he would blink off three bullet wounds and stare at Tony in confusion when he started freaking out about them.
"Peter! It's Peter! His ribs are broken, and he fell and now he's not moving, he's conscious but he's frozen, I don't–"
Dr Cho had already rushed past him and Tony followed close on her heel.
"Hi," Peter breathed the moment they reached him, his voice reeking of agony, "So, update, pretty sure my rib is inside my lung, and it is high key getting hard to breathe. I'm trying not to move so it doesn't jostle but it's definitely moved."
Tony wanted to throw up. How Peter could be so analytical under all this, he had no clue. Tony was a wreck and he wasn’t even the injured one.
"Tony, help me lift him, be careful to keep his torso in the same position, we don't want to dislodge the bone if it is blocking the wound from bleeding into his lungs."
Tony was very much panicking now. Full on hyperventilating. But that was not what Peter needed, and he forced himself to straighten his shoulders and focus.
They managed to get him into a hospital bed, though Tony couldn't help but notice the way each breath seemed to get more and more shallow, Peter's panicked grip on his hand tightening and slackening at seemingly random intervals, his eyes practically glazing over in pain every time he breathed.
"I don't feel so good," Peter mumbled, his voice shaky, and Tony choked, his mind flashing with images of the boy stumbling towards him on that stupid planet, of skin starting to decay into dust as he gripped onto Tony like his life depended on it, of Tony laying him down and his eyes going far away, just like they were right now, not quite landing on Tony's hovering form, of the boy vanishing in Tony's arms, leaving nothing but a pile of dust in his wake.
"Kid. Kid, no, kid, hey, stay with me," Tony didn't know how much of it were his own memories and how much was the kid in front of him, but every instinct in his body was screaming that his son was dying and Tony could NOT lose him again. He couldn’t hear those words and have his son die for a second damn time. He couldn’t. He refused. He refused. Peter would not die. He wouldn't.
Through his panic, Tony focused in on the boy, suddenly realising that the rasping breaths had halted. Fuck. Fuck, he wasn’t breathing. Peter wasn’t breathing. No. No. This could not be happening. He screamed for the doctor, registering a moment later that she was right there, but not caring. Not when his son was dying. Again. No. No. He couldn’t. He had invented fucking time travel to save his kid, how the hell was he supposed to survive if his kid died. No. No. Peter would be okay. He had to be okay.
Finally, Dr Cho got the chest tube in, and Tony could have cried with relief – well he was already crying from panic, so relief at least was a welcome change – as the kid's
He was going to be okay. Peter was going to be okay. Tony crumpled forwards, wrapping his arms around Peter's neck, careful to stay clear of his chest where Dr Cho was still working. Thanks to the odd angle, Tony didn't notice his son's eyes fluttering open. He did hear the whispered words though.
"Oh... oh, this is nice."
Tony let out a pathetic sob at the words. His kid was okay. His kid was back. His kid was back and he was okay. He was going to be okay. That's what he had said when he had returned. It was over now. Peter was safe. He was good. He was here. Everything was okay.
Peter breathed, long and heavy, and Tony wanted to cheer at how much easier it sounded than it had mere minutes before, but before he could, he realised something. He couldn’t feel Peter's heartbeat. He rushed for a pulse, frantic and desperate and yet finding nothing. Nothing at all.
"Pete!?" Tony screeched, fumbling desperately for a pulse. His heart had to be beating. He had to be okay. Peter had to be okay.
Dr Cho shoved him aside and he stood where she left him, watching dazed and numb and terrified as she worked, trying to bring his kid back to life. Trying, and failing.
Tony screamed when she took a step back and checked the time, he screamed at her to keep trying, begged her desperately to save him, kept screaming and sobbing and shaking even when Pepper's arms wrapped around him, even when his head was pulled into her rapidly rising and falling chest as they cried together. No. Not Peter. Not Peter. No. Not after everything. NO.