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The mission had been simple. In and out... but of course, it went sideways. Peter blamed it on his Parker luck.
It started with an explosion. Then another. Then the building groaned, shuddered, and finally gave way. Tony had managed to get Peter under him, shielding the kid with the Iron Man suit's armor as tons of concrete and steel rained down on them.
When the dust settled, they were in a dark pocket of what was once a high-tech server room. The only light was the blue glow from the arc reactor on Tony's chest. Peter was shivering, not just from shock, but from the cold. His suit had been torn in the fall, and the heater must've been damaged with it.
"Peter! You okay? Can you hear me?" Tony's voice was raspy and a bit pained, but the worry was obvious.
Peter pushed himself up, coughing from the dust, and winced. His left arm screamed in protest. "I'm... I think so, Mr. Stark. My arm hurts."
Tony retracted the helmet, and Peter could see the sweat and grime on his face. He was also trying not to show it, but Peter could see that the Iron Man suit wasn't in great shape either. The left gauntlet was completely gone, and there were deep scratches on the chest plate.
"Let me see." Tony was already reaching for Peter, scanning him with the suit's tech. "Mild concussion, fractured radius, and your core temp is dropping. How's the heater in the suit?"
"I... I don't think it's working," Peter stammered.
Tony frowned. "Shit. Okay. We have to get out of here. FRI, can you get a scan of our surroundings?"
"Boss, the suit's capabilities are severely compromised. I can't scan more than five feet in any direction."
The weight of their situation settled in. They were trapped. The building was unstable. And Peter was getting colder by the second. The silence was punctuated by the groaning of the building around them.
"You're okay, Petey. We're okay," Tony said, though he didn't sound convinced in his own words. He gently probed Peter's arm, and Peter hissed through his teeth. "It's a clean break. We'll get it set once we get out of here."
"Right," Peter agreed. "But how?"
"We've got comms," Tony said, but the crack of static was less than reassuring. "Avengers, come in. Anyone? Steve? Nat? Can anyone hear me?" Only static replied.
"They're not coming, are they?" Peter's voice was small.
Tony was silent for a moment. "They will. They're just busy. The storm is probably interfering with the signal." He looked at Peter, who was still shivering, and made a decision. "Okay, new plan. FRI, what's our power situation on the suit?"
"At current consumption, you have approximately three hours of power remaining before a full shutdown."
"Three hours," Tony muttered. "Not enough. Okay, FRI, engage minimal power protocol. Shut down all nonessential systems. Keep life support and comms on standby."
"Understood, Boss."
The suit powered down, leaving them in almost complete darkness. Peter could feel panic creeping up the back of his throat. "What... what are you doing, Mr. Stark? You're shutting the suit down?"
"Conserving energy." Tony was already removing pieces of the suit, revealing his Under Armor beneath. "And sharing body heat is the best way to stay alive right now." Tony sat next to Peter and pulled the teen close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Okay, buddy. We've just gotta last until rescue arrives."
Peter cuddled against his side, mindful of his own injury. "I could try to lift all the debris. A building collapsed on me before, I can probably lift this."
Tony pulled away and looked at him. Even in the darkness, Peter could see a horrified expression on his face. "And how didn't I hear about this before?"
"Oh, well, um..." Peter laughed nervously. "It was when you took away my suit, when I fought the Vulture."
"You could have been crushed," Tony whispered, as if just now realizing how dangerous it could've been. "Peter—"
"Okay, look, that's not the point. I'm saying that I can probably get us out of here." Peter's arm was still aching, but the adrenaline was starting to dull the pain. "It worked once for me."
"And what if it doesn't work this time? What if you bring the rest of the building down on us? What if you crush your arm even worse? Or your spine? I can't take that risk, Peter."
"It's better than freezing to death."
"You're not going to freeze to death," Tony growled, wrapping his arm tighter around Peter. "You're going to stay right here with me and wait for backup. That's an order. Understood?" Peter reluctantly nodded, but his jaw was clenched. Tony sighed in relief for the end of that. "And when we get out of here, we're talking about this whole Vulture-incident."
"But we've already talked about the incident," Peter argued.
"The one where a goddamn building fell on you. No. We're talking about it again."
Peter groaned, burying his face in the side of Tony's neck. Tony could already feel the chill radiating off the Spider-Man suit.
They stayed that way for a while, neither of them speaking, listening to the creaks of the wreckage around them. Occasionally, there would be a clatter of stones or the crunch of metal on metal, and they would both tense, waiting for the worst. But each time, the building settled back into a quiet.
Peter had to distract himself. If he kept thinking about what it would be like to suffocate to death from thousands of pounds of metal crushing down on them, he thought he would actually die just from how fast his heart was racing. He shifted awkwardly.
"I don't think my suit is working at all," he confessed. "Karen isn't speaking to me."
"I figured that much," Tony sighed. "How's your head and arm feeling?"
"Just a headache. But it's not bleeding anymore. And my arm feels better." He swallowed hard. "What about you? Are you hurt anywhere?" He leaned away from him a little so he could try to look him over in the dim light.
"Ah, I've had worse," Tony said, shrugging it off. "Just a little sore."
Peter wasn't buying it. "Where? Where are you hurting?"
"Peter—"
"Where?"
Tony sighed, clearly not liking being on the receiving end of Peter's stubbornness. "Ribs," he finally relented. "Think I might've cracked a few."
Peter didn't know what to do with that information. He felt sick. He was the one who was hurt. And Tony was the one who was hurt. And they were both trapped. With very little heat, and very little power.
He looked over at the arc reactor, the only source of light in their little tomb.
"I can see your breath," Peter whispered.
Tony looked at the puff of white in the air between them. "Well, that's just great," he muttered. He shifted, pulling Peter even closer, tucking the teen's head under his chin. Peter could feel the tremors running through Tony's body as well, the shivers he was trying to suppress. He was trying to be strong for him, as per usual.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," Peter said, his voice muffled by Tony's shirt. "This is all my fault."
"What? No, it's not. How is this your fault? You didn't plant the bombs."
Peter shook his head. "I should've been faster. I should've seen it coming. I should have—" He stopped, a sob catching in his throat. He hated this. He hated being so helpless, he hated crying in front of Tony, he hated how cold he was. Everything was going so terribly wrong.
Tony quietly cooed at him. "Hey, hey, none of that. Don't you dare talk about my kid like that." He rubbed Peter's back, careful of the injuries he couldn't see. "It's not your fault. And we're going to get out of this. You and me. Together." He thumbed the oncoming tears away. "And you know what? After this, we're gonna go on a vacation. A nice, warm vacation. Somewhere with a beach. No more collapsed buildings. How does that sound?"
Peter smiled, despite himself. "That would be nice. I'm tired of the cold."
"Me too, buddy. Me too."
The silence that followed was heavy. Peter could hear the wind howling outside and the temperature dropping. He snuggled closer, trying to soak up as much of Tony's warmth as he could.
"The Vulture thing..." Peter started, then stopped, not sure if he should say more.
"Yeah?" Tony prompted.
"I... I was scared," Peter admitted. "The building, it was heavy. And I was alone. I thought... I thought that was it." He shivered, and not just from the cold this time. "It feels kind of like now, except there wasn't a little pocket with room. Just... crushing. Everything was crushing. And it was so dark."
It took everything Tony had to not go into a guilty rant. He knew it wouldn't help anything, and that Peter needed him. "I'm so sorry, baby. That's a hell of a thing to go through alone. You're so brave." He kissed the top of Peter's head. "And you're not alone this time. I'm right here. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."
"It's not like you're here by choice," Peter humorlessly chuckled.
"Actually, I'm here because I made the choice to shield you from all this shit that was falling. Could've gotten myself out, but you needed me. I wasn't going to leave you to deal with all this on your own. That's a choice, kiddo, and I'd do it all over again. I'd do it all over again a million times if I had to."
Peter felt a warmth flood him, not from any external source of heat, but from knowing how much Tony loved him.
Tony kissed Peter's head again, trying to ignore how cold Peter was getting, but also trying to prepare for the worst-case-scenario.
"How long do you think it's been?" Peter asked quietly.
"Don't know," Tony said. "FRI is in low-power mode, so she's not giving me that info." He could feel Peter shivering violently against him. "Okay, this isn't working. We need a better heat source. The reactor is too small, and my body heat is clearly not enough. We need to get you out of that suit."
Peter hesitated. "But... what if the team finds us and I'm not in uniform?"
Tony nearly scoffed. "Pete, I don't think they're going to give a rat's ass what you're wearing when they pull us out of here. Now, help me get this thing off you."
Together, they managed to peel the spider suit from Peter's body. He was just in his boxers and a t-shirt.
"Now, I need you to take my jacket," Tony said, shrugging off the coat he had on under his under armor.
Peter shook his head. "No, Mr. Stark, you'll freeze."
"I'll be fine," Tony insisted. "I'm not as sensitive to the cold as you are."
Peter reluctantly allowed Tony to wrap him up in his jacket, the leather stiff with the cold. It helped a little, but not much. "Thank you," Peter whispered. "But I can hear your teeth chattering."
"Listen, buddy, if we get in a situation where it's a choice between your survival or mine, it's going to be yours. Every time."
Peter didn't like that, but he knew arguing with him about this was futile. He burrowed deeper into the jacket, pressing closer to Tony's side again. "I love you, Dad," he whispered.
Tony froze. Peter rarely called him 'Dad'. It was always 'Mr. Stark' or, on rare occasions, 'Tony'. But 'Dad' was reserved for moments of extreme emotion, when Peter was feeling particularly vulnerable or affectionate.
And in this moment, as they were huddled together in the wreckage of a collapsed building, with the temperature dropping and their power fading, it was the most natural thing in the world for Peter to say.
Tony's heart swelled with a love so fierce it was almost more painful than his broken ribs. He tightened his grip on Peter, pressing a kiss to the cold skin of his forehead.
"I love you, tesoro. More than you know," he murmured back. "More than anything."
In just three more hours, the temperature became drastically worse. Tony used the last of what little power he had left in the suit to heat Peter up, but it was a temporary fix.
"I can't—I can't get warm enough," Peter mumbled. "M-Mr. Stark..."
Tony lifted Peter into his arms and hugged him tight to his chest, wrapping every available limb around the young hero. Peter was curled up in a ball against him. He had taken off his own shirt so they could use every bit of body heat possible, draping said shirt over Peter as a makeshift blanket. He ignored the ache in his ribs.
He buried his face into Peter's curls, keeping his cheek pressed to Peter's forehead and kissing the top of his head, attempting to keep him conscious. He could feel Peter trembling.
Tony shushed him gently, holding him close as they laid on the ground, rubbing a hand up and down Peter's back.
Peter blinked slowly. "I'm really sleepy," he said. "Why am I so tired?"
"Adrenaline crash," Tony said, pulling Peter impossibly closer. He tried not to worry about how cold Peter was, how labored Peter's breathing was becoming. He tried not to think about how long they'd been stuck here, how long they still had left to wait before help arrived. If help ever arrived. No, don't think like that. Help was coming. It had to. He wouldn't allow any other option.
"Do you think they're looking for us?" Peter asked, his voice soft.
"Absolutely," Tony lied. "They're tearing the city apart right now."
"Good."
Silence fell over them again.
Tony knew he needed to keep Peter talking. He needed to keep him awake. If he fell asleep now, he might not wake up.
"Tell me something," Tony said. "Tell me about your day at school. Before the mission. Anything interesting happen?"
Peter hummed. "Well, MJ is really into this new book she read. She's been trying to convince me and Ned to read it, but I've had too much homework to read it."
Tony hummed in response, letting Peter know he was listening.
"And Ned and I got partnered on a project in history class," Peter continued. "He's really excited about it. He's been doing a lot of research, and we're going to meet up this weekend to work on it. Well, I hope we are."
"You will be," Tony promised. "We'll be out of here in no time. You'll be bored of your history project before you know it."
Peter didn't respond, and Tony's heart skipped a beat.
"Peter? Hey, talk to me." He shook him slightly.
"I'm cold," Peter whimpered.
"I know, baby, I'm sorry," Tony soothed. He brushed back the damp, brown curls clinging to Peter's forehead. He wanted to scream and yell. Why were they taking so long to rescue them? Surely the team knew they were in trouble. They were supposed to have their backs in situations like this, weren't they?
Tony felt tears prick at his own eyes as he watched his son in every way but blood suffer. He had been in worse situations before, but none of them involved seeing Peter like this.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to think, to be the genius he was supposed to be, the genius who was supposed to be able to get them out of this.
But his mind was drawing a blank. He was trapped, with limited resources, and his son was freezing to death in his arms. The panic that he'd been holding at bay for hours began to rise.
He couldn't let Peter see him like this. He had to be strong. He had to be the adult.
"I have an idea," Tony said, though he was still trying to convince himself that it was a good one. "I'm going to use the rest of the power in the suit to heat up a piece of metal. It should stay hot for a while, and we can use it like a hot water bottle."
Peter nodded, his eyes half-closed. "Okay."
Tony carefully extracted himself from Peter. He ignored the pain. He moved towards the suit, which was mostly just a pile of metal now. He found a flat piece of the armor, about the size of a dinner plate.
"FRI," he said, his voice hoarse. "I need you to divert all remaining power to the chest plate's heating element. I want you to heat this piece of armor until it's as hot as possible. Then, I want you to power down again." That was, if the suit didn't die down before then.
"Understood, Boss."
Tony held the piece of metal, bracing himself for the heat. He could feel the suit's remaining energy draining away, the blue light from the arc reactor flickering and dimming. The piece of metal in his hands began to warm, then grow hot, then almost searing. He held on, gritting his teeth, until the AI's systems died completely, plunging them into total darkness.
"Here," Tony said, making his way back to Peter by memory. "Hold this against your chest. It should stay hot for a while."
"Thank you," Peter said, his voice weak, taking the piece of metal from Tony. His shaking hands almost dropped it, but he clutched it to his chest with both hands. "That does feel a little better." He leaned back into Tony's chest. Tony could hear the soft exhales of Peter's breath.
He wrapped himself around Peter again, sharing the warmth of his own body. The piece of metal was a small relief, but it wasn't enough to stave off the encroaching cold. The wind howled outside, and the temperature continued to drop.
Another roughly three hours passed by. Peter kept falling in and out of sleep, but Tony made sure to keep waking him up, forcing him to stay awake and talking. He told stories about his childhood, about MIT, about the early days of Stark Industries, about anything and everything he could think of to keep Peter's mind off the cold.
Peter would respond, but in a slurred way each time. He would talk about May, about Ned, about MJ, about the things he wanted to do when he got out of here. He talked about wanting to learn how to surf, about wanting to visit Italy, about wanting to get a dog.
Tony listened to it all, committing every word to memory. He would make all of it happen. All of it. He just had to get them out of here.
The piece of metal had long since cooled. Peter was shivering uncontrollably, and Tony's own body was starting to go numb. He knew he was running out of time.
"'m hot now," Peter stuttered.
Tony's blood ran cold. "No, you're not, Pete. That's... that's not good."
"I am," Peter insisted, trying to push away the jacket that was still draped over him. "Take it off."
"No, honey, you have to keep it on," Tony pleaded, pulling the jacket back around him. "You need to stay warm."
"But I'm too hot," Peter whined. He was now trying to wiggle out of Tony's grasp.
"Peter, listen to me," Tony said, grabbing Peter's face and forcing him to look at him, even though he couldn't see him in the darkness. "You're not hot. You're hypothermic. You need to stay still and stay wrapped up."
Peter stopped struggling, but he was still shivering. "Okay," he whispered.
Tony's heart was pounding. He knew the signs. The false sense of heat was a bad one. He had tried so hard to remain strong for Peter's sake, but for the first time in years, he began to sob, too.
It was quiet, at first. He tried to hide it, burying his face into the boy's hair. But the tears kept falling. He had built a suit of armor that could withstand a tank, a miniature arc reactor that could power a small city, but he couldn't do a damn thing to keep his own son warm.
He pulled Peter impossibly closer and started to rock him. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."
"What for?" Peter slurred.
"Everything," Tony answered, kissing the top of Peter's head. "I'm sorry I brought you here. I'm sorry I can't get us out of here. I'm sorry you're cold. I'm sorry for everything."
"'s not your fault," Peter mumbled, curling into him.
"Yes, it is," Tony insisted.
"M'okay," Peter slurred, "just lemme sleep."
"No, Pete, you gotta stay awake," Tony pleaded, shaking him gently. "Please, kiddo."
"Jus' f've m'n'tes."
"No," Tony said, his voice cracking. "Peter, please. I can't do this without you."
Peter's body went lax in his arms, and for a horrifying second, Tony thought he had lost him. He frantically felt for a pulse, and he almost sobbed in relief when he found one, slow but steady.
He was running out of options, and he was running out of hope.
They had both tried screaming for help. They had tried pounding on the debris. They had tried everything. But the building was too unstable, and the storm was too strong. No one could hear them.
Even if Tony decided to risk it all and push the debris, to break out like Peter had told him, it was too late now. His suit was dead. He had no powers.
So he did the only thing he could do. He held Peter close and prayed to any God who would listen.
It felt like a lifetime later when Tony heard it. A faint scraping sound, followed by a muffled shout. His head snapped up, and he held his breath, listening.
There it was again. Louder this time.
"Hello? Can anyone hear me? Tony? Spidey?" It was Rhodes's voice.
Tony let out a strangled sob. "Here! We're down here!"
There was a pause, then a response. "We're coming! Hang tight!"
It was the most beautiful sound Tony had ever heard. He hugged Peter tighter, relief flooding through him. "Did you hear that, Pete? We're going to be okay. They're coming."
Peter didn't respond.
Tony's relief turned to horror as he realized Peter was no longer breathing. He shook him, but the kid didn't move. He pressed two fingers against the teen's neck, but felt nothing. Peter's heart had stopped.
He let out an agonized scream.
"No, no, no! Peter, breathe, goddammit!" he yelled. "Breathe!"
He quickly lowered the limp boy down, then began compressions. Tears streamed down Tony's cheeks as he counted.
"You're not doing this to me, sweetheart," he gasped between compressions. "You can't."
He tipped Peter's chin up and gave two quick breaths. Peter remained motionless. Tony went back to compressions.
"I need some help over here!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. He had never felt this scared. Never.
Maybe it was dramatic, but Tony didn't care; if his son, the boy who had brought life into his world after decades of darkness and selfishness, didn't make it, he would follow suit. There was no doubt about it.
"Almost there, Tones," Rhodes's voice was saying, closer and louder this time, "we're coming!"
"You better fucking hurry," Tony spat back. He didn't stop compressions. He could feel Peter's ribs give a little, and he had to fight the urge to be sick. "Dad's got you... come back, Petey, please..."
After two more breaths, Peter finally spluttered, taking in a small breath.
Tony had never been so relieved in his entire life. "That's it, sweet boy, that's it..." he whispered. "Keep breathing." He pulled Peter back into his arms, wrapping him in a tight hug. He didn't care about the pain anymore. He didn't care about anything except for the boy in his arms. He cradled Peter's head in the crook of his neck, rocking him back and forth.
"Hang in there, honey. They're coming. I promise."
He heard the scraping of metal on concrete, the grunt of effort from someone on the other side. Then, a sliver of light pierced their darkness. Tony squinted, his eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness.
Rhodes's face came into view. "Tony? You two alright?"
"I'm okay," Tony lied. "Pete's not breathing right. He's hurt."
Rhodes and a team of rescue workers worked quickly, clearing a path for them. Tony kept Peter tucked against him, shielding him from the debris that rained down as they created an opening. Finally, there was enough room for them to get through.
"Let me get him," Rhodes said, reaching for Peter.
"No," Tony snapped, clutching the teen tighter. "I've got him."
He carefully maneuvered himself and Peter through the opening.
When they emerged into the daylight, the paramedics rushed to check on both of them. Tony reluctantly let go of Peter, watching as they bundled him in blankets and attached monitors and IVs. They tried to tend to Tony as well, but he shrugged them off, focusing only on Peter. Everything else was irrelevant.
Peter regained consciousness as the paramedics carried him away to an ambulance. His eyes were unfocused, but he seemed to recognize Tony. "Mr. Stark?" he asked weakly.
Tony squeezed Peter's hand. "Right here, buddy," he replied.
"D-Dad," Peter said, trying to reach for Tony with his unfractured arm.
Tony moved closer, letting Peter grab onto him. "That's right, bambino. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
Peter woke to the familiar sight of the medbay.
He blinked, adjusting to the bright lights overhead. His left arm was in a cast, and there were sensors on his chest and finger. An IV was taped to the back of his right hand. He felt warm. He wasn't cold anymore.
He looked to his side and saw Tony sleeping in a chair next to him, slumped over with his head resting on the bed. Tony was wearing a hospital gown and had a large bandage wrapped around his chest, partially hidden by the blanket he was cocooned in.
Tony had been injured too. And yet he was still here, by Peter's side.
May was there too, sitting on a chair on the opposite side of the bed, fast asleep. She had been crying; he could see the tear tracks on her cheeks.
He felt a pang of guilt. He'd put them through so much. He'd scared them.
May stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw Peter was awake, she shot up in her chair, her face flooding with relief.
"Peter," she whispered. "Oh, thank God. You're awake."
"Hey, May," he croaked.
Tony jolted awake at the sound of Peter's voice, sitting up straight, a wild look in his eyes. He blinked, then focused on Peter's face.
"Peter," he breathed. "You're awake."
"Yeah," Peter said. "I'm awake."
"How do you feel? Are you hurting? I can get Dr. Cho—"
"No, I'm okay," Peter said. "Really."
Tony looked at him for a long moment, then seemed to accept the answer. He slumped back in his chair, the tension draining from his body.
"God, Pete," he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You gave us a scare."
"I'm sorry," Peter said, and he meant it.
"Don't you dare apologize," Tony warned. "This wasn't your fault."
"It's not yours, either."
"It's not," May agreed. "It was an accident, Peter."
"Are you okay?" Peter asked Tony worriedly.
"I'm fine," Tony said, waving it off. "Few cracked ribs. Nothing I haven't had before. You're the one we were worried about."
"I'm okay," Peter said, though he could still feel the lingering chill in his bones. "Just... tired."
"You need to rest," May said, fussing with the blanket.
But Peter didn't want to rest. He wanted to stay awake. He wanted to talk to Tony, to listen to the sound of his voice, to feel the warmth of his hand in his. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, he'd wake up back in that cold dark space.
"Can we talk for a little bit?" Peter asked, looking at Tony.
Tony's expression softened. "Of course. Anything you want."
May, sensing that they needed a moment, stood up. "I'm going to go get some coffee. I'll be right back."
She left, leaving them alone in the quiet room.
"What do you want to talk about, Petey?" Tony asked.
"I just... I wanted to say thank you," Peter said.
"For what?"
"For saving me. For staying with me. For... everything."
Tony swallowed, clearly trying to choke back his own emotions. "Of course, kiddo. You never have to thank me for that."
"You saved my life," Peter said. He didn't even remember the part he was given CPR. He just knew if he was alone during that, he would've likely got himself killed trying to get out.
"And you saved mine."
Peter gave a lopsided smile. "No I didn't."
"Actually, yes, you did," Tony said, squeezing Peter's hand. "And not just today. Every day since you walked into my life."
Peter smiled. "Gross."
"Shut it, you love me."
"Unfortunately."
There was silence for a moment, and then, Peter spoke.
"So that whole vacation idea..."