Chapter Text
Tony held Peter until help finally arrived.
The world moved in a cacophony of shouting and metal on metal as Tony finally made Rhodey’s figure out through glassy eyes. He was holding Tony’s shoulders, shaking him, eyes wide as he searched his nephew’s body up and down in shock.
”...Tony...needs Cho...ome on!”
The world came back into view with a blinding vengeance the second Rhodey began prying Peter out of Tony’s grip.
”No, no, no, stop-“
”Tony, dammit, he needs a doctor, okay?”
”Don’t-he’s-he’s already-“
”Tony, look.” Rhodey huffed and lifted Peter’s shirt just enough to see where the bullet had entered Peter’s abdomen, the wound now barely closed as it began healing on its own. “See that? He’s alive, Tony. He’s already almost healed. But he lost a lot of blood and someone’s gonna have to get this bullet out of him, right?”
Tony stared, jaw hanging open in shock as he lifted an exhausted head to meet Rhodey’s gaze.
All he could hear was that deafening crack of the gun, followed by the even more deafening collapse of Peter’s limp body against the cement floor.
Tony looked down at his son, lip trembling as he brushed a stray, blood-soaked curl away from Peter’s closed eyes.
”They...shot him.”
”...Yeah.”
”They...they shot him, Rhodey. Twice.”
”I know. And believe me, there will be hell to pay. But you don’t need to worry about that right now.”
”They were going to kill him. In front of me. A-and they shot him, and I can’t-I can’t-“
”Alright, you know what? Peter’s gonna kill me for telling you this, but he’s been through worse. Now, let’s go, yeah? The faster we get to the tower, the faster he wakes up.”
Tony could only nod numbly in agreement, absentmindedly listening to Rhodey’s thorough instructions though in truth he could only focus on his son’s form, limp and blood-smeared and everything Tony had been trying to avoid since he knew Peter was his.
He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and carried on.
For Peter, he needed to carry on.
⎊
Tony had a bad habit of disassociating when his kid was in a hospital bed.
The sight of his kid doped up on pain killers, tubes running through him as if he were some sort of machine...it was enough to bring Earth’s best defender to his knees, to force him from reality in a vein attempt to keep breathing.
Because dwelling meant facing the facts.
Peter wouldn’t have been walking the streets alone if Tony hadn’t snapped at him. Peter wouldn’t have been thrown into a trunk of a car at gun point if Tony had just thanked Peter for saving him that day on their mission.
Peter wouldn’t have nearly died that day—twice—if Tony wasn’t a better father.
Things Tony knew, logically, weren’t true, and that Pepper and Rhodey and even Peter would rip him apart for thinking, but things he thought about constantly nevertheless.
He paced back and forth anxiously at the foot of Peter’s bed, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the floor like it were an insult to his existence.
God, Peter probably confronted the culprits head-on, probably sensed something was off and stepped up before someone else could get hurt.
He was going to be sick. That had been the root of their entire argument. Peter being too quick to assert himself in situations he didn’t belong, in situations he felt would go south too quickly if he didn’t interfere.
A mumble from the hospital bed he had been so desperately avoiding pulled him from his thoughts so quickly that he nearly couldn’t catch his breath, wide eyes gluing themselves to the miracle swallowed whole by pillows and blankets.
”...Peter?”
”Dad...”
Tony skirted around the bed so quickly he nearly fell flat on his face on the tiled floor before he was hunching over his kid, cupping his face as if it were made of glass and searched feverishly for any sign of consciousness.
“Peter, hey, you there?”
Peter’s eyelids slowly but surely fluttered open, his eyes immediately locking on Tony’s before he was jumping in place, wide eyes searching frantically for signs of danger.
“Dad! Dad, where-“
”Peter!” Tony placed his hands firmly on Peter’s chest. Peter quickly grabbed Tony’s wrists to keep his hands in place.
“Where are-where are the bad guys? You-you have to get down, we have-have to-“
”Peter, kid, you’re in the medbay. There are no bad guys.”
”Dad, please, we have-have to-“ Peter suddenly cried out in pain and wrapped a protective arm around his abdomen, glancing down in confusion at the heaps of bandages wrapped around his middle beneath the hospital gown he wore.
”Peter! Kid, Jesus, I need you to be careful, please-“
Peter paused, frowning as he scanned the room and caught his frantic breathing before he was looking up at Tony, wide, similar brown eyes locking on his guiltily.
“...Oh.”
”Are you okay?”
”...Um...” Peter squeezed his eyes closed, recollecting his memories of the night prior.
“Do you...remember anything, kid?”
”I...uh...”
Tony frowned, releasing the pressure he had been putting on his kid’s chest as he noticed Peter’s hands trembling.
“Woah, hey, Petey, take a deep breath, okay? What do you need? What can I do?”
”I-I-I can’t-cant-“
Tony held his breath and stared as Peter’s bottom lip began to tremble, his eyes threatening to flood with tears.
Tony’s heart was beating in his throat.
God...he was only fifteen.
”Oh, Peter...”
Peter released a sob and it was more than enough indication for Tony to immediately lurch forward and scoop his kid up in his arms, to hold him close to his chest and cradle his head in his hand delicately. Peter was wrapping weak arms around him, too, clutching fistfuls of the man’s shirt and clinging to him like a lifeline.
“‘M sorry,” Peter choked, sucking in a shaky breath as he dug his face into Tony’s shoulder. “I-I didn’t-I didn’t want our last conversation-“
”Shh, hey,” Tony held him tighter, banishing that thought before it could ever make its way off Peter’s tongue. Tony swallowed in a vein attempt to stop his own share of a breakdown, though it proved worthless. “I would never...ever let that happen, kid. Never.”
”It-it’s my fault. It was my fault. ‘M sorry.”
”Kid...believe me, this one’s on me. I mean, uh...I could’ve done without the storming out and getting yourself kidnapped, but, uh...” Tony paused, tightening his hold on Peter so fiercely he swore he was crushing bones.
”Peter...I’m so sorry.”
Peter sniffled faintly in Tony’s hold as Tony began clambering onto the side of the bed and tucking his kid into his side, one arm draped around his shoulders. Tony planted a kiss in Peter’s mess of curls and sighed contentedly as Peter curled further into Tony’s hold, wincing with a groan as he strained his gunshot wounds though he hoped it was muffled enough.
“I heard that, kid.”
”...It doesn’t even hurt.”
“Don’t even try it.”
The faintest of smiles reached Peter’s face. He released a relieved breath of air, closed his eyes, and drifted to sleep.
Tony didn’t get to hold Peter when he was a baby.
...This was making up for it just fine.