Peter crouched on the roof of the Staten Island Ferry, leaning forward, staring through the lenses of his suit as his AI scanned the area for Mac Gargan, the Vulture's new buyer. Mr. Stark had been the one to talk to Aaron Davis...but he'd waited for Peter to return from his decathlon meet in DC to track him down. Peter wasn't sure if that was because the man wanted to wait for him to help, or because Mac Gargan and Toomes weren't supposed to meet until after Peter had returned from his trip. Either way, Peter had only been home for a few minutes before getting the call from Mr. Stark. "Hey, kid. Nice work in DC...cool trophy." Peter had laughed a little, incredulous.
He had been talking on the phone to Tony Stark...who had called him. On his personal cell phone. And he was congratulating him because he'd won an Academic Decathlon competition. He was pretty sure he'd had a dream like this once.
"You...you saw that?" He'd asked, glad the man hadn't been there to see his cheeks turning red.
"Course I did. I'm Tony Stark. I have eyes everywhere." Peter had sat down on his bed, a pleasant flush filling his chest and making his heart warm. Mr. Stark had been looking out for him...had known that he'd won his competition.
"Thank you, Mr. Stark." He'd murmured, unable to wipe the goofy smile off his face.
"Sure thing, kid. But, as cool as it is that your nerd club won a competition, mostly thanks to you, by the way, I didn't call just to congratulate you. What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Um...it's Monday so...I'm going to school." Peter had told him, confused, and he'd practically been able to hear the eye-roll.
"After school, kid."
"Oh...um...nothing?" Peter had hesitated. "I mean...probably patrolling but...I don't have plans."
"Good. I talked to Aaron Davis...got him to tell me where the Vulture is going to be next. Looks like he's got a weapons deal going down on the Staten Island Ferry tomorrow at 4:30."
"And you're going to stop him?" Peter had asked, the excitement leaking into his tone despite his best effort.
"I called the FBI." The man had corrected, and Peter had sighed, a little disappointed. His next words had perked him back up though. "But, I was thinking we might supervise. Just to make sure everything works out."
"We?" Peter had asked, and he'd been able to hear Mr. Stark's smile in his next words.
"Yeah, kiddo. Mentorship, remember. Couldn't hurt for you to see the FBI bust an illegal arms deal. We'll have their backs, just in case."
"What do you see, Pete?" Mr. Stark asked, words jolting him back to the present. Peter shifted a little in his crouch, trying to stay out of sight.
"Um...I don't see him. I think...oh, wait! There." Peter murmured, watching the little box appear around the man's face. His AI, who he'd named Karen much to Mr. Stark's bemusement, spoke softly in his ear.
"Mac Gargan facial recognition match." She told him, a list of the man's previous charges appearing in the corner of his screen. The man's eyes darted around the boat, and Peter caught a glimpse of the gun at his hip, shivering just a little. It had been almost a year, and still, guns only ever reminded him of his uncle.
"Alright, Pete. Stay where you are. We're just watching for now." Mr. Stark told him through the comms. The man was on a different part of the ferry, hidden from prying eyes. Peter himself hadn't been seen yet and hoped to keep it that way. As he watched, Mac Gargan moved to a different part of the ferry, slipping past the other passengers. Crawling forward a little, he saw him approach another man, the two of them speaking softly.
"That must be him," Peter whispered, watching through his mask, different screens appearing and attempting facial recognition. No luck...he watched as the two men, Mac Gargan and the shocker guy...well, he was different than the other shocker guy, but he had the same weapon, spoke, both of them close to the railing on the lower level of the ferry. They spoke for a few minutes before Peter heard the footsteps approach. Both men had guns, the shocker guy with his other weapon too, and then men in suits were appearing.
"FBI, put down your weapons." Peter felt his senses spike, shuddering as the jolt of fear made his hair stand on end.
"Mr. Stark." He murmured into the comms before he really figured out what was happening. Something was wrong. He didn't know what but...something was wrong.
"What's up, kid?" The man asked, voice urgent.
"Something's wrong." He whispered, scooting forward a little more. He wanted to crawl down...they were standing in front of the holding area of the ferry where cars and trucks were parked, and he knew someone was down there. The Vulture? He didn't know...but it seemed likely. And if the Vulture guy had his suit...then...the FBI would be outmatched. Right?
"Talk to me, Peter. What's the matter?" Iron Man demanded.
"It's not enough...it won't be enough…" And then he heard it...the suit. The metal wings and metal cutting through metal and he was jumping into action, oblivious to Mr. Stark urging him to wait. The sound of gunshots filled the air and Peter grabbed the first FBI agent he saw, glancing at the tunnel full of cars. "Move, move, move! Get out of the way, get out of the way! Move!" He shouted, dodging a laser shot at him by the man wearing goggles and a wingsuit and shoving another agent out of the way as the Vulture grabbed a car and drug it forward. "Move!" He screamed again. He could hear repulsors but he couldn't wait for Mr. Stark! The car barely missed the FBI agent that Peter grabbed by the suit, jerking him out of the way and practically throwing him into the railing.
"Let's get out of here!" The Vulture shouted, and Peter shoved another agent out of the way as the Vulture shot at them again. Peter tried to shoot a web at one of the fleeing criminals, but a purple blast cut through it. Turning to the Vulture, Peter shot a web at him instead, managing to get one to stick to his leg. The FBI continued to shoot at him, but their bullets didn't seem to do anything against his suit. In the daylight, he could see it better. The Vulture's whole body was encased, creepy looking goggles covering his eyes, and the metal suit moved to snip at the other strands of web that had attached, snipping like scissors. How could he move like that?
Peter held on tight to the web, yanking back and trying to pull him back down to the ferry. He could hear the Iron Man suit close by, but in the meantime, the Vulture was still shooting at him and the FBI agents. He shot another web, then jumped, flinching when he was pulled into a pole, body wrapping around it, his stomach aching at the contact. The Vulture guy shot the purple gun at him again, and, hoping to minimize the damage, he shot a web right at the gun, then another, pulling as hard as he could. "Karen! Taser webs!" He cried, and the Vulture let go of the weapon right as Iron Man appeared, shooting his repulsors at the flying villain.
Peter was thrown back as the gun came flying toward him, bouncing on the ground and activating. "Kid?" Mr. Stark asked, voice strained as he and the Vulture fought. Peter jumped to his feet, watching in horror as the gun bounced around, shooting the purple lasers that ripped easily through the metal of the ferry and the cars and trucks that sat parked in the long corridor. Peter shot webs desperately at the bouncing laser gun, doing his best to cover the barrel and stick it to the ground.
"I'm trying...I'm trying but…" Peter dodged as someone shot at him, still shooting webs at the laser gun thing. He was cut off when the laser sliced through his webs and flung itself away from him on the force of the beam. Peter followed as carefully and quickly as he could, glancing over to find Iron Man and the Vulture flying through the air, dodging and shooting at one another. Peter could do this. He could do this! He'd keep blanketing the thing in webs until he could get close enough to try and shut it off. Mr. Stark could count on him!
But then the weapon seemed to explode, purple lasers cutting through the web and upward and going straight through the metal of the ferry. People were screaming...and Peter felt his heart drop. There was a moment of stillness...and then he heard the water. The water bursting through the cracks until the ferry was splitting apart...and people were screaming again. Desperate, frantic screaming.
The ferry was going to sink.
It was his fault.
"Oh god...what do I do? Karen?" He asked. In the distance he could see the Iron Man and Vulture fighting...but he had to fix this! Now! "Get me an x-ray of the boat! Target all the strongest points!"
Immediately his view changed, showing him exactly what he'd asked for with the strongest points highlighted in red. Jumping into action, he began to shoot his webs at the strongest points, throwing web grenades wherever he could and praying that he didn't run out of web fluid. Flipping and jumping back and forth, he dodged around the supports and wrapped the webs around them, then wrapped even more webs around the ones he'd already placed.
Gasping for air, he landed on the balcony, looking over the webs and xray of the map once more. "Karen?" He asked. Some parts of the ferry were still on fire, the metal burning and melting, dripping into the ocean below. But everything was still, as if the people were holding their breath.
"Great job, Peter. You were 98% successful." It took a solid five seconds for those words to sink in, the map in his mask showing one red support.
"98?" He asked, stomach clenching. And then his webs were snapping. "No! No no...no!" The webs were snapping and people were screaming and water was filling the boat as the two halves began to fall apart once more. Jumping and shooting two webs, he strung himself between the two halves of the boat, groaning in pain as his arms were yanked apart. "Mr. Stark?" He cried into the comms.
"Just a second, kid." Came the tense reply. But he couldn't hold it...he wasn't strong enough!
"Please, Mr. Stark!" He cried again, and this time he had the man's attention. Peter heard him swear as he was stretched between the two parts of the ferry. "Help! Please!"
"I'm coming, kid!" Mr. Stark cried, and he couldn't stop the scream as something in his arm seemed to rip. "Hang on...just a second, Peter!" He practically shouted into the comms, and then, after what felt like a very long time, the pressure eased, leaving him hanging limply from the webs, left arm burning and useless at his side as he practically dropped, stumbling forward. Mr. Stark was flying around, repulsor going as he welded the ship back together, and several of his suits were pushing against the boat, holding the two halves together. Peter felt boneless, hands shaking as he dropped into the corner, not caring too much about the people that gave him worried glances.
"Peter?" Tony asked, voice soft in the comms. "Talk to me, kid. You alright?"
Peter had almost sunk the Staten Island Ferry. He'd almost killed all of those people. He wasn't a hero...he was the reason that those people could have died. All of them. Why hadn't he grabbed the gun faster? Why hadn't he tried harder to web it down? Or throw it in the ocean? Or...or call Mr. Stark faster? He felt his breath catch in a sob, his body shaking as he curled up in the corner, doing his best to take deep breaths.
And then Mr. Stark was kneeling in front of Peter who did his best to take it all in. Who tried to look up at the man and focus. "Kid?"
"I didn't...didn't mean to." He whispered, closing his eyes under the mask. He'd let Mr. Stark down. This was his fault! Everyone could have died because of him! He was supposed to be a superhero but...Mr. Stark had had to help him and the Vulture had probably gotten away. Because of him. If Mr. Stark hadn't brought him along...his thoughts were cut off when Mr. Stark came closer.
"C'mon, kid. Up you go." Iron Man urged, a careful arm slipping around Peter and pulling him to his feet. Peter followed dumbly, left arm hanging at his side. It hurt, but he didn't know what to do about it. He couldn't lift it...couldn't do anything but let it hang there, pain increasing as adrenaline faded, leaving him shaky and breathless. The other people on the ferry, who had been cheering for Iron Man only seconds ago, backed away and watched as Mr. Stark led Peter out onto the deck. No one interfered...the ferry had turned back toward the shore and was hurrying to get the passengers to safety. Mr. Stark had managed to fix it for the most part, but Peter was sure they didn't want to chance it.
"Can you hang on to the suit?" The man's voice was soft, and Peter nodded, wrapping his good arm around the suit and sticking his hand to his back as Iron Man took off, his head resting against the man's shoulder. He didn't go far...Iron Man landed on solid ground far enough away that they were away from prying eyes, but close enough that they could watch the ferry and make sure that everyone made it okay. Peter took a shaky step back, his left arm aching as he leaned against the railing that lined the concrete ledge. "Kid? You alright?" Mr. Stark asked gently.
"Was anyone hurt?" Peter asked, his voice hoarse.
"No. Everyone's fine. Well...a couple of the FBI guys are going to have bruises, but they'll be fine thanks to you."
"But...if they had been…"
"Kid…"
"It would have been on me! This was my fault! I…"
"Peter." The man stepped forward, voice soft and serious. "Look at me, kid." The Iron Man mask retracted, leaving Tony Stark's face staring down at him, eyes soft and worried. "This was not your fault…" Peter yanked his mask off, sure that his eyes were red but not caring at the moment.
"I let them get away! I knew they had alien weapons but I…"
"Kid." Mr. Stark placed his hand on Peter's good shoulder, grounding him. "None of this was your fault. If it hadn't been for you, someone could have been hurt. But you held that ferry together. By yourself." Peter shook his head, but Mr. Stark kept going. "Peter!" He felt his eyes heating up, lip quivering as he lowered his gaze. It was his fault. His fault that the ferry had been destroyed and his fault that those people could have died. But Mr. Stark was looking at him, eyes wide and earnest and pleading. "You did good, kid. So good. You saved those people."
"If I hadn't been there…"
"If you hadn't been there, I don't know that I could have gotten the Vulture away from those civilians and kept the ferry together."
"But he got away." Mr. Stark sighed.
"Yeah. He did. But we'll get him, kiddo. Don't worry about that." Mr. Stark glanced over at the road, then placed a careful hand on Peter's left shoulder, his touch light as he put a pair of sunglasses on. "What are we looking at, Karen?"
"Peter's left shoulder was dislocated and he experienced tearing in these muscles." Peter could only assume that she was showing Mr. Stark something through the lenses of the sunglasses that the man pulled off.
"Alright." The suit retracted, opening up, and Mr. Stark stepped out, loosening his tie and pulling his jacket off, putting his sunglasses in his pocket. "We're gonna get you back to the compound. May thinks you're there anyway, right?" Peter nodded, flinching when Mr. Stark gently gripped his wrist and shifted his arm until it was parallel to his chest. "There you go, buddy. I know." He murmured, slipping his jacket under Peter's arm and carefully propping it up.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark…" He whispered, shaking his head, tears filling his eyes. He didn't want to cry. Not in front of Mr. Stark.
"You did good, kid. You have nothing to apologize for." The man tightened the sleeves around the back of his neck, then patted his back. "Come on. Happy has the car. Think you can put the mask back on?" Peter nodded, managing to pull it over his head with just his right hand. Mr. Stark immediately stepped in to help, straightening the mask with a gentleness that surprised Peter. "You're okay, kid. We're gonna get your arm fixed up, and then we're going to try and figure out where this Vulture guy is hiding out."
The boy followed him dumbly to the car where Happy was waiting, his almost worried eyes on them. Tony opened the door for him, a hand on his head as he urged him into the car, and then Mr. Stark was sliding into the other side. "How are you doing, Pete?" He asked as Happy climbed into the driver's seat. Peter glanced past them at the ferry that was pulling into the dock. Whole. Everyone was okay. He closed his eyes, dropping his head back against the headrest. "Pete?"
"Fine," He muttered.
"What happened, boss?" Happy asked. He was sure that the man was staring at him, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes and look.
"The FBI wasn't exactly equipped to deal with the Vulture, as it turns out. They had more alien weapons that we thought."
"What's wrong with the kid?" Happy asked as if Peter weren't in the car. He didn't care.
"DIslocated shoulder. He managed to hold the ferry together until I could get the suits there."
"Damn, kid." Happy murmured. Peter almost smiled, opening his eyes and flinching when he turned the corner and jostled Peter's arm.
"You should have seen him, Hap. Kid's stronger than anyone I've ever seen. Even Cap. Barely even needed me." The man scooted a little closer, resting a hand on Peter's good shoulder. He was being so nice. Not that Mr. Stark had been mean to him or anything...but ever since he'd saved him from the river...ever since he'd woken up in the Medbay, things had felt different with Mr. Stark. Like the man actually wanted him around. Like he really did want to be his mentor, and that treacherous, hopeful voice kept up its mantra in the back of his mind. 'Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe...maybe this was real. Maybe Mr. Stark really did want to be his mentor. Maybe.'
It was a long drive back to the compound, and Peter pulled out his phone, texting May and assuring her that he was having a great time at the internship. The tentative plan was to have a doctor take a look at his arm and then Mr. Stark was going to call her and tell her that he'd fallen/gotten into an accident/some other BS story to explain the dislocated arm and the sling. Peter didn't feel great about lying to her, but honestly, he didn't know what else to do. He had school the next day, and he had no idea what to tell anyone about the sling he was definitely going to have to wear.
He texted Ned too, who had sent him at least three full pages worth of texts asking him if he was okay, if Mr. Stark had yelled at him, if he'd been working with Mr. Stark, etc. Peter answered them all one-handed, surprised to find that as time passed, Tony had eased him closer, scooting closer to the middle, until finally, Peter was resting against his side, the man's arm wrapped around him, careful of his shoulder. Peter didn't even question it...he felt like he didn't have any strength left. Dropping his head slowly on Mr. Stark's shoulder, he waited for the man to scold him. Or...if not scold, then at least sit up a little. Scoot away. Tell him they weren't there yet. But Mr. Stark didn't say a word. Just held him a little closer, both of them listening to the soft rock music on the radio.
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A new chapter! I’m sorry if it’s not fantastic...it’s sort of a transition chapter. Either way, I hope you enjoy.
A Quick Dip
4. Talking Through the Pain
Breathing hurt.
That was the first thing that Peter was really, fully aware of next. It burned his chest...every breath, every movement. It all hurt. He took a shaky breath in, eyes closed as he rested in a comfortable bed, fingers clenching the sheets as he exhaled. It burned. And ached. That breath led to a cough, and he gasped in pain when he tried to sit up, eyes opening in surprise when a hand slipped behind his back, lifting him and stabilizing him against a warm, solid body in the dark.
"Easy, Underoos." The voice told him. A familiar voice. Peter coughed again, gasping for air between painful hacking, and the hands kept him upright, holding something under his mouth so that when he started coughing up some kind of gunk, it landed in the bowl. Finally, he was done, and the person put the bowl...somewhere. He didn't see. But then the man was sitting behind him, letting him lean against them. Peter pressed a hand to his chest and the man squeezed his shoulder before rubbing his arm. "Just breathe. It's okay."
"Hurts." He choked out behind the oxygen mask.
"I know, kid. You've got pneumonia." That sounded about right...pneumonia. Because...the river. He'd fallen into the river because the Vulture...he started to turn back to the man helping him sit up. "Easy, Peter." The man ordered. Mr. Stark. The man kept rubbing his shoulder and Peter closed his eyes again, resting his head back on Mr. Stark's chest, too sore and tired to be embarrassed. He wasn't sure how long he lay against the man, but Mr. Stark didn't complain. Only held him. But then he was shaking him gently.
"Pete? Kid, wake up." Had he fallen asleep again? Someone else was in the room. He could hear her footsteps...and her heartbeat. It was a woman. The dim lights, which were slowly getting brighter, revealed a tall woman with her long black hair pulled into a ponytail. He didn't recognize her, but she was smiling at him as Mr. Stark stood, the man easing him back down to the pillows. "Pete, this is Helen Cho. She's kind of our personal doctor."
The woman rolled her eyes, but she didn't really seem upset. "Hello, Peter." She greeted, glancing at a monitor beside him, then pulling out a stethoscope. "I just wanted to listen to your lungs and check your breathing." Mr. Stark took a few steps back, giving her room to work, and Peter had to fight the urge to reach out to him. To grab his hand. He remembered that Mr. Stark had held his hand...had helped him sit up and rubbed his back. But that had been when he'd been really sick. Now he was probably fine...at least, mostly fine. So Mr. Stark would go back to how they'd been before...it kind of surprised Peter that the man was still there.
He hadn't been there before. At the river.
Then Helen Cho was pressing a disk to his chest, instructing him to breathe as deeply as he could. He did his best, fingers clenching into fists as he did his best not to rip the sheets. He wanted to go home. Wanted May...but hadn't he told her that he was going to a...conference? Maybe? Something like that. He'd lied to her so that she wouldn't find out who he was. It was a conversation he barely remembered. He also sort of remembered a conversation with Mr. Stark, but it was all blurry. Memories of pain and coughing and..talking to May. That was it.
"It looks like your healing is working in your favor. You need to stay on the oxygen but I think we can switch you to a nasal cannula. You still have a fever, but the antibiotics are working...your fever should break soon." He nodded, accepting what she was saying but not sure how to respond. Or even if he needed to. He was surprised that Mr. Stark was still in the room, listening closely to Dr. Cho and peering at the charts she was holding. Once she was done listening to his chest and looking at his charts, she hooked him up to a nasal cannula, then messed with one of the wires attached to the needle in the crook of his arm. There was another one inserted into the back of his wrist, but she didn't touch that one. "The wounds in your shoulders have nearly healed. You might be sore for a day or two, though, so I have you on pain medicine."
"Thanks." He muttered. With that, she headed out, and Peter was left with Mr. Stark who was leaning against a wall, not quite meeting his eyes. Peter decided to let him off the hook. "Uh...Mr. Stark?" The man looked up at him and Peter took a deep breath of the oxygen coming from the cannula, doing his best not to cough. "Thanks for, uh...for, you know. Getting me out of the river. I thought…" He didn't meet the man's eyes, cutting himself off. No need to talk about what he'd thought. No need to admit to Mr. Stark, to Iron Man, that he'd been sure that he was going to die. "Uh...anyway, thanks. You don't have to stay." He finally glanced up and found the man staring at him, jaw tight. "I mean...I really appreciate you staying with me but I know you're busy."
Mr. Stark seemed to take a deep breath, clasping his hands together in front of him before taking a seat beside Peter's bed once more. His shoulders were slumped, his whole body curled in on itself. Peter knew that the man was in his forties, but suddenly he looked...old. "I'm not busy, Pete."
"Oh…" He blinked a few times at the man, then glanced at the door. "Okay."
"How do you feel?" He asked then, and Peter wondered what exactly was going on. Not that Mr. Stark has been mean to him or anything. Just...distant. Now, he was sitting at his side in a hospital bed.
"Uh...better. I can probably go home."
"You're here for the weekend, kid. Your aunt thinks you’re at an internship conference. Besides, we need to fix your suit." He frowned at that, following the man's gaze to the plastic bag in the corner that held his suit.
"Oh…". He whispered, heart sinking.
"Yeah. Apparently, Spangles didn't realize that you could deflate the thing. Not that I'm complaining. It'll be fine...won't take more than a day or two to make a new one." Peter just nodded. "Once you're cleared to get out of that bed, you wanna give me a hand?"
Peter's eyes widened and he swallowed hard, flinching when a sharp intake of air had his chest burning. "Seriously?" He asked, forgetting himself for a moment. The man smiled, his whole face softening a little.
"Yeah, kid. Seriously. I'll show you how I made the first one. Introduce you to your AI too." Peter stared at him, feeling his jaw drop.
"My...AI?"
The man chuckled. "Yeah." He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. Still, he looked tired despite the smirk. "Custom made, programmed for your suit. I didn't give you access to everything in the suit just yet...was going to wait until you'd done some more training." He shrugged. "But I think you'll like your AI." Peter had no idea what to say to that. No idea how to respond. But the man kept talking so he didn't need to. "I need to say something, kid." He told Peter in a rush. "If you're feeling up for a talk."
A cold feeling of dread curled up in his stomach, making him feel sick. Mr. Stark was probably angry...he'd made the man come home from...well...wherever he'd been and Steve Rogers was somehow involved and...he'd screwed everything up. "Okay." He whispered, eyes dropping to his lap. The man paused and Peter glanced up from underneath his eyelashes.
Mr. Stark didn't just look tired. He looked sad. There were bags under his eyes, and he was tense, hand clenched in his lap. He was looking at Peter...staring at him, like just the sight of Peter was hurting him. "I'm...I'm sorry, kid." He almost choked on the words, but before Peter could interrupt, the man went on. "I should have been a better mentor. I was the one that dragged you into this and then...anyway, I'm going to be around more, okay?"
Peter wasn't prepared for this. Wasn't prepared to forgive something he hadn't really held against the man. "Yeah, sure. You don't have to be sorry. I know you're busy…"
"You're important to me, kid. I'm should have made more time for the things that are important to me. And from now on, I will." He smiled a bit when Peter didn't respond. "How are you feeling kid? Really?"
"Um...still hurts to breathe," Peter admitted.
"Think you could eat?" He nodded. He was starving, although he wasn't sure if eating would hurt too. "Fri, have someone bring up two trays." Peter found himself picking at his blanket and wondering if the needle in his arm was pumping him full of something that made him sleepy or if it was just his healing.
"What time is it?" He wondered. Mr. Stark checked his watch.
"3:15. You slept through lunch."
Peter wasn't sure if he should ask...if he should bring up one of the many elephants in the room. But he was dying to know and everything was just so confusing. "Mr. Stark?" The man lifted his eyebrows, face open and tired. "Did...um...so, Captain America really saved me?"
Mr. Stark's eyes dropped, jaw tightening as he seemed to take a moment to gather himself. "Yeah. I was in Mumbai for a meeting when I got the notification from your suit...and Capsicle was the closest."
"Is he still here?"
"Yeah. I set him and the bird one up in their old rooms. No one saw them come here so they're going to stay for a few days."
"Hawkeye is here!" Peter cried, then clinched at the coughing fit that caused. Mr. Stark leaned forward, putting a hand behind his back to help him sit up, covering the worry on his face with a lifted eyebrow.
"The other bird one." He corrected, helping Peter slouch back against the pillows.
"Falcon?"
Mr. Stark smirked. "I call him 'Sam' but yeah. What's with that reaction? You a Hawkeye fan?"
Peter shrugged. "Hawkeye's cool." He told him, feeling his ears heat up. Mr. Stark just rolled his eyes a little with a chuckle. Peter would have been a lot more excited about the fact that he'd made Tony Stark laugh had it not felt like his lungs were about to catch fire.
"I guess." The smile dropped when Peter's eyes did, another cough tearing out of his throat. Pressing his hand to his chest, he gasped for air, head pounding, and Mr. Stark moved forward, a hand on his shoulder. "Pete?"
"I'm fine." He gasped, teeth pressing together in a pained grimace he couldn't hide. The pain radiated through his lungs and back, and he just wanted to go back to sleep, but his stomach was growling relentlessly. He hadn't eaten in too long, and if he didn't eat, he didn't heal.
"Yeah, I can tell. Helen has you on antibiotics, so you should start to feel better soon. Ah. Here we go. Thank you." Peter glanced up and found a nurse holding two trays.
"Is that all, Mr. Stark?"
"You want anything else, Pete?" He shook his head and Mr. Stark nodded to the man who left them with their trays of what turned out to be baked chicken with baked potatoes and green beans which Peter picked at, eyes still heavy.
Before he could drop the tray, Mr. Stark was easing it out of his hands and placing it on the table beside him. "Did you eat enough, kiddo?" He nodded, even though he was still starving, but he could barely get his eyes to open. Then something was pressed to his mouth, and he opened his eyes to find a straw and a cup full of a thick drink that smelled like chocolate.
"Is that a milkshake?"
"Something like that." The man assured him, voice soft, and he brought up a shaky hand to try and hold it. "Just drink, Peter. Then you can go back to sleep."
Sleep sounded amazing, so he did as Mr. Stark asked, drinking the milkshake that tasted kind of strange. Still, he drank most of it, dropping his head back down to the pillows and letting himself drift off, deciding that the meds coming through his IV must have been making him sleepy after all.
The next time he woke, it was to voices on the other side of the room. It felt like more time had passed...a lot more time. The lights were dim but he could hear Mr. Stark talking to someone, the man's soft voice making it hard to make out all the words. But then someone else was speaking and he shifted a little on the bed, glad that the burning in his lungs had mostly stopped. He took an experimental deep breath, then another. It felt almost like when he'd had asthma as a kid. Not like an asthma attack...just a little painful, enough to make him mindful of his own breathing.
"He looks better." That voice was...Captain America, he realized, blinking at the ceiling. Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers was in his hospital room. And so was Tony Stark. Right...his life was weird.
"Yeah...the antibiotics are working. He just needs to take it easy for a few days."
Peter started to sit up a little, and this time, it didn't hurt so much. He ran a hand through his hair, yawning a little. He wasn't so tired anymore...in fact, he felt like he might be able to get out of bed. "Hey, Queens." He turned and found that both men were looking at him, Mr. Stark moving closer and checking the monitor beside his bed.
"How are you feeling, kid?"
"Better." He glanced past him to Steve Rogers who was watching from the other side of the room. Mr. Stark adjusted something on the side of the bed and the bed moved to an upright position, and he shifted against the pillows. "When can I get up?"
"As soon as Helen gives you the all clear."
"What time is it?"
"Almost ten. You've been asleep for a while...Helen says that's how your healing works. But you need to eat something soon."
Peter felt like he was stuck in a strange dream. Tony Stark had been hanging out with him for the last...day? He'd apologized for not being around as much and for not being a good mentor and...Captain America had saved him from drowning and...the Vulture. He needed to tell Mr. Stark more about the Vulture. And the other guys he'd seen. But at the moment, both Captain America and Iron Man were in his room at the medbay of the Avengers compound. Mr. Stark followed his gaze, glancing back at Steve Rogers, then stepped to the side. "Kid, this is Steve Rogers. I know you've already met, but...well, this time there's no fighting going on. Cap, this is Spiderman."
The man moved forward, holding out a hand that Peter took. "It's good to officially meet you, son."
"You too."
"I'll let you get some more rest. I'm glad to see you looking better."
"Thank you." He murmured, not sure what else he should say.
"I'll see you later."
"Oh are...are you staying?" He immediately realized how that sounded and could have kicked himself. "Not that you shouldn't. I was just wondering...um...obviously you used to live here. And with the Accords...not that I really know anything about it...um, you and Falcon...um, Mr. Stark told me that he was here too, but I won't tell anyone, I swear. I just…"
"Okay. That'll do, kid." Mr. Stark told him with a smirk and an eye roll. But the gentle hand on his shoulder took the sting out of his words, fingers squeezing his arm, careful of the old wounds there that had apparently already healed. "He'll go on for hours if you don't stop him."
"I do not," Peter muttered, cheeks hot, and the man grinned down at him. He couldn't help but notice that Mr. Rogers was smiling too, eyes almost soft.
"I am staying for a little while." Mr. Rogers informed him. "I'll stop by when you're feeling better." The man turned, nodding to him once more before leaving the room, and with that, Peter was alone with Mr. Stark once more.
"You okay, kid?"
"Does he know who I am?" Peter asked. The man shook his head.
"No. Well...he knows you're Spiderman, but he doesn't know your name." Peter nodded. "But if you want to tell him, that's up to you. He's not going to tell anyone." Peter wanted to ask if he trusted Steve Rogers. If the Avengers were going to get back together or if this was a temporary thing. He wanted to know what exactly Mr. Stark had meant by saying that he was going to make more time for him. Would his internship become a real thing? Or would he just answer his phone? At the moment, though, all he could focus on was the tray that another nurse delivered, on top of which was a pizza box.
"Your pizza, Mr. Stark?" Peter had to smile a bit at that as his mentor took the tray.
"You ordered pizza?"
"I ordered several pizzas." Mr. Stark corrected, placing the tray on the table by Peter's bed. "Eat up, kiddo. The more you eat, the faster you heal...or something like that. I'll have to have Helen go over the specifics again." Smirking, Peter grabbed a slice, unable to help the hope that was building in his chest.
Maybe, just maybe, Mr. Stark had meant what he'd said. Maybe he was going to have an actual almost-friendship with the Tony Stark.
