Chapter Text
First there was nothing but darkness and warmth. As Peter rose through it he gradually became aware of a steady beeping noise. It was pretty annoying, actually, and Peter tried to shift away from it. In doing so, he realized that his limbs felt heavy and sluggish. A thin blanket was pulled up to his chest, but his arms were out in the air. Someone was holding his hand.
Peter managed to flop his head toward whoever was at his bedside, but his eyes remained stubbornly shut for several more minutes before he was able to pull them open. If he’d been aware enough to guess, he would have assumed that the mystery person was Aunt May, so Peter was vaguely surprised to find someone else there instead. His vision was a little fuzzy, but the man appeared to be dozing while sitting up. Peter knew him somehow. His brain was just having a bit of trouble telling him exactly where he knew him from at the moment.
“‘Ncle… no… Miss’r… Miss’r,” Peter mumbled, trying to pull him closer to get a better look. All he managed was a weak squeeze.
The man’s head jerked up and intelligent brown eyes met his own. Coffee was brown, too, but Peter didn’t like that. Chocolate pudding was brown, maybe that was-- “Hey, kid,” the man said, interrupting Peter’s hazy thoughts. “That was quite a hit you took back there. How’re you feeling?”
Peter hummed and blinked as the words slowly filtered through his brain. “Think m’brain’s floatin’ away. Feels kin’a weird.” His tongue felt too big too, and his lips were clumsy. “Ha. Weeeeiiiirrrrrrrd,” he said to himself again, liking the feel of the word in his mouth. What other sounds would be fun to say? Peter leaned back and mouthed a few different words, trying to think of a good one. May? No… Juuuune. That was good. Mooouuuse was fun as well… A snort of laughter from the man made Peter jerk his head back around in the middle of contemplating purple. He’d forgotten someone was sitting there.
“Stark!” he suddenly remembered, feeling proud of himself. “You’re Miss’r Star’! What’re you doin’ here?”
“That’s me. I’m just making sure you’re alright, Peter,” said Mr. Stark with a smile. “They’ve got you on the nice Captain America drugs and everything.”
Peter thought about that for a while. Hadn’t that guy been on the TV at school? “Miss’r Cap’n Rogemerica didn’t do any drugs,” he said. “Says’re bad f’r us on TV.”
“Did he now?” asked Mr. Stark. “Guess I must be mistaken then.”
Peter tried to nod, but his chin made it all the way down to his chest and just stayed there. His eyes remained half open, but Peter drifted for what felt like quite a long time as the world went out of focus around him. He thought he might have heard some voices, or a few people going in and out of the room, but the pressure holding his hand never let up and something told him he was safe here. He closed his eyes.
“You with me Pete?” asked a voice. There was a light squeeze on his hand.
“Yeah, ‘m righ’ here,” said Peter, blinking hazily before contentedly closing his eyes again. “You lose me or somethin’? Miss’r Star’ll find me, don’ worry.”
“Mr. Stark will?” said the voice.
“He’s m’favorite supe’hero,” Peter grinned. “Saved me fr’m a ferry ‘n a robo’, ‘n he’s just the… the goodest dad-guy pers’n, y’know?”
“Dad-guy peron?”
“Mm hmm,” Peter agreed. “Wish ‘e was mine but ’m jus’ some kid fr’m th’ street, so…”
“You wish he was your… your dad?” the voice was quieter now, and shaking just a little. Peter hummed in agreement. He wondered whether the voice was shaking from cold, and tried to lift his hand to check. Instead, another hand softly took his own and held it next to the other. The hands were very gentle. Peter wondered if he was fragile, or if they were.
“So what? You don’t think he’d want you?” The voice sounded a little upset, Peter noticed distantly.
“S’rry I know ‘s weird,” he said. “Like t’pretend though, so please don’ tell’m. It’d be m’barrassing an’ he’d run ‘way cause he hates ‘motions ‘n stuff.”
“I think you should talk to him about it,” the voice said. “He’d probably like to hear it.”
Peter wrinkled his nose. “Nah, I love’m. Don’ wan’ ‘im t’run ‘way fr’m me.”
Someone’s breath hitched. There was a long silence, and then one of the hands let go of his and tentatively ran through Peter’s hair. Peter leaned into it as much as he could and successfully lifted his own hand in order to catch it and hold it there. He smiled when he found an arm attached to the hand in his hair and proceeded to nuzzle his face into it happily. It smelled like fancy cologne and grease.
“You smell good, like Miss’r Dad,” he mumbled against an elbow. There was another long pause.
“That could be because I am him,” the voice said.
Peter dragged his eyes open as wide as he could. The arm he was clutching was covered in a faded sleeve with a grease stain or two, like something Mr. Stark would wear in the workshop. As Peter’s eyes travelled up, he caught sight of the glowing blue light that came from Mr. Stark’s chest, and then a fuzzy impression of the man’s fancy beard. His mentor was wide-eyed and smiling hugely.
“Hey Miss’r… Miss’r…” Peter was losing his train of thought. His eyes drooped shut again.
“You called me Dad,” the man whispered.
“‘Kay, Dad,” Peter whispered back, pulling the arm closer. “I’m keepin’ this, ‘kay?” He yawned and buried his face in it again.
“Go to sleep Peter.”
“Uh huh,” Peter said. He allowed himself to drift for a while, eventually sinking back into peaceful darkness.
.
.
.
Tony was trapped and in shock, but that was fine. Really. The kid… this kid…
He’d been down in the workshop when he got the call from Karen that Peter had been shot. He’d immediatley suited up and flown as fast has his thrusters could take him to the location she provided while she gave him a rundown on the situation. Peter had webbed up a mugger in the ally below, but he hadn’t seen the gun and the man had been quicker than expected. The bullet flew through Peter’s side and exited cleanly, but the boy would certainly need proper medical attention to prevent any infection as the wound healed.
It was a good thing he still had the formula to synthesize Steve’s pain medication because Peter was barely conscious by the time Tony got him to the compound. The doctors had been sworn to secrecy long ago, so Tony let them stitch up his kid before going to wait for him to wake up.
He wouldn’t have grabbed the kid’s hand, but all the doctors left and there was no one there to notice anyway. The kid would wake up far too high to even remember it, so Tony allowed himself to indulge just a little. He was dozing off by the time Peter squeezed his hand.
The kid was obviously completely out of it. It took him several minutes to even say Tony’s name, although Tony would be holding “Captain Rogermerica” over his head for the foreseeable future for sure.
Once the kid zoned back out, Tony alerted the doctors and a few came in to check Peter’s vitals and fuss over the IV for a minute before bustling out again. One woman smiled just a little when she caught sight of Tony holding the kid’s hand. He glared at her until she left the room, but he didn’t bother to let go.
“You still with me, Pete?” he said as soon as the door was finally shut.
“Yeah, ‘m righ’ here,” said Peter. For a second Tony thought his eyes would focus again, but instead his kid just blinked and seemed to retreat into a half-doze. “You lose me or somethin’? Miss’r Star’ll find me, don’ worry.”
The kid clearly had no idea who he was talking to. “Mr. Stark will?” Tony said. He didn’t want to take advantage, but there were just so many opportunities depending on what Peter said here. He hoped it was something harmlessly embarrassing.
Peter’s face split into one of the biggest smiles Tony had ever seen. “He’s m’favorite supe’hero,” he said. Tony felt a smile tug at his own lips. Even after all this time, Peter still thought that? “Saved me fr’m a ferry ‘n a robo’, ‘n he’s just the… the goodest dad-guy pers’n, y’know?”
Tony’s world paused. Did he just…? “Dad-guy peron?” he squeaked.
“Mm hmm,” Peter agreed, casually turning Tony’s world on its head. “Wish ‘e was mine but ’m jus’ some kid fr’m th’ street, so…”
What did that mean? Tony felt like a dart had gone right through his chest, shortening his breath and causing his heart to swell painfully. It had to be the drugs talking. There was no way the kid could possibly mean what Tony thought he meant. “You wish he was your… your dad?” he asked softly, just to be sure. His voice came out much less steady than he would have liked.
Peter hummed in agreement again, and tried to lift the hand with the IV in it. No way he was supposed to do that, and the doctors would probably try to kick Tony out if the kid got hurt on his watch. He took Peter’s waving hand in his own free one and settled them together on top of the bed, careful of Peter’s still-injured side and not wanting him to feel trapped. It felt strangely intimate, sitting there with Peter’s clean hands held lightly in his own scarred, callused ones.
“So what? You don’t think he’d want you?” Tony said. If that was the only thing stopping Peter from admitting this he was going to go punch something. He suddenly wished that Peter was lucid, so they could either talk this out or pretend it hadn’t happened. If nothing else then he’d know if the kid was serious or just saying whatever came to mind.
“S’rry I know ‘s weird,” said Peter. “Like t’pretend though, so please don’ tell’m. It’d be m’barrassing an’ he’d run ‘way cause he hates ‘motions ‘n stuff.”
Tony cringed. He’d never wanted Peter to get close enough for that to be a problem, but apparently Peter was more perceptive than he’d thought. The worst part was that the kid was probably right. If he’d just come to Tony with this on a normal day he would have dealt with it horribly and locked himself away from everyone for days afterward while he tried to work his emotions away. Tony didn’t do well when people just sprang feelings on him like that. Still, something about this kid made Tony want the best for him. “I think you should talk to him about it. He’d probably like to hear it,” he told Peter. At least now he had a warning for if the kid ever came out with it on his own.
Peter wrinkled his nose. “Nah, I love’m. Don’ wan’ ‘im t’run ‘way fr’m me.”
Tony sucked in a breath, staring at Peter’s peaceful face. He… loved him? Tony’d hardly done anything, just given him some advice and a suit and yelled at him for getting hurt. Sure they’d spent time together down in the workshop and Tony really, maybe, possibly was thinking about admitting to himself that he might care a little too much about Peter, but he’d never expected the kid to return anything but naive hero worship. To be honest, he assumed he’d be replaced as soon as Steve Rogers was back in the picture, whenever that happened.
Slowly, carefully, Tony leaned forward. He set Peter’s hand down and gently reached out, hesitated, and then brushed his hand through Peter’s messy hair. To his delight, the kid seemed more than happy with him, even grabbing his arm and nuzzling his face into Tony’s sleeve.
“You smell good,” the kid said sleepily, “like Miss’r Dad.”
Whatever heart Tony had left in his chest melted. Something was going on with his face, too, and he couldn’t seem to move his mouth out of the wide smile that had spread across it. There was so much he could say to that, from mocking to painfully sincere, but all he needed to know was how Peter would feel when he knew Tony had heard this. “That could be because I am him,” he told the kid. Despite his nerves, the smile stayed.
Peter’s eyes opened, travelling up from his hand to his face, but his grip on Tony’s arm had slackened. He was probably only a few minutes from falling asleep again.
“Hey Miss’r… Miss’r…” he said, shutting his eyes again. Tony couldn’t stop looking at him, this kid who loved him for some reason, even after getting to know him.
The whisper left his mouth without permission, before he had time to think about it. He wasn’t even talking to Peter, not really, just trying to convince himself of what he had heard. “You called me Dad.”
“‘Kay, Dad,” Peter whispered back, curling up with Tony’s arm. Tony’s heart might have physically skipped a beat. “I’m keepin’ this, ‘kay?” Peter yawned, and buried his face in the arm again.
“Go to sleep Peter,” said Tony fondly. He could adjust his position and let Peter hold onto him for as long as he wanted.
His kid made a noise of acknowledgment and fell asleep there, with Tony grinning beside him for an embarrassingly long time.