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1.
Tony found out about Peter’s needle phobia about a month after the Vulture incident.
The discovery came on accident, really. He’d started forcing himself to take a more active role in the kid’s life after he, you know, nearly died trying to prove himself. He hadn’t really known how to do that, at first, but Rhodey had suggested, with an air of fond exasperation, that spending time with Peter would be a good start.
For Tony, that meant weekend lab sessions.
It made sense. Everything Tony had read about forming meaningful connections mentioned focusing on the things people had in common, and Peter was brilliant. He’d made his web-fluid from scratch, pieced together his original webshooters with parts salvaged from dumpsters. The kid was an inventor in the making if he’d ever seen one.
There: something they had in common. And Tony monopolized.
One of the first projects he and the kid tackled together was the mystery of his DNA. Peter had discovered his powers through physical trial and error, and while he was pretty familiar with the manifestations of the bite that he could see and feel, he knew next to nothing about how those changes actually happened.
Tony didn’t like not knowing, especially when it came to radioactive mutations of a teenager’s DNA.
So, instead of sending Peter straight to the lab when he arrived one Friday afternoon, he asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to direct him to the MedBay. He had everything he needed laid out. It’d take ten minutes to take the blood sample, tops, and then they could get back to the usual routine.
“Hey, Mister Stark!” Peter burst through the door, and Tony smothered a smile at the kid’s permanent enthusiasm. “Why’d F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell me to meet you in here?” He glanced around, taking in the medical equipment with confusion on his face. “Is this like… a hospital?”
Tony leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, amused. “We call it the MedBay.”
“So it is a hospital.”
“A private one, yes.”
Peter poked at a monitor. “And why are we in your weird, private hospital?”
He nodded at the medical tray, covered with an elastic tourniquet, alcohol swabs, collection tubes, and, of course, needle. “I just need a quick blood sample.”
The kid physically recoiled. “Uh… are you sure?”
“Mhm.” He pointed to the bed pressed up against the wall. “Now hop up. The faster we do this, the faster we can order pizza and I can lecture you on the wonders of a rotary engine.”
“Are you, uh,” despite his obvious reluctance, Peter sat down and let Tony roll his sleeve up, “are you even qualified to do this?”
He nearly laughed at the nervousness in the kid’s voice. No trust. “Of course.”
“I don’t think it’s really necessary though, right?” If he’d been paying more attention, or if he even had an ounce more emotional intelligence, he might’ve noticed the genuine terror in Peter’s eyes. As it was, the warning signs slid right past him. “Like, you already have a sample of my DNA.”
“I want to see if the bite affected your blood cells, Pete.” He slid on a pair of latex gloves and started carefully tying off the tourniquet. “I have a hunch they’re gonna be hyper-oxygenated because of your metabolism.”
“So far, I’m still not seeing why this is necessary,” the kid muttered.
He rolled his eyes and grabbed a pre-packaged alcohol wipe. “Oh, quit being a baby and give me your arm.”
“I, uh, I’m not a… a huge fan of needles.”
He brushed off the comment without a second thought, too focused on finding a vein to take it seriously. “Who is? It’ll be fine, Spider-Man. Nothing like fighting bad guys every night, am I right?”
“I mean, yeah, but-”
“No buts.” He nudged Peter’s knee, a silent reassurance. “Alright, kid. If you’re good, I’ll give you a lollipop after.” He positioned the needle against the crook of his elbow. “Quick stick.”
He did his best to be gentle as he slid the needle in. Despite his joking around with the kid, he didn’t actually want to hurt him.
In fact, he was so focused on not fucking up the needle insertion that he didn’t even realize how pale Peter had gotten until he looked up at the sound of his name.
“Mister Stark?”
The kid was staring down at his arm vacantly, face white and eyes slightly glazed.
Concern flared in his chest. “Hey, buddy.” Whoa, since where did that nickname just come from? “You’re alright. Just, uh, just take some deep breaths.” That was what he was supposed to say, right? “I’ll be done in a sec.”
“I…” Peter swallowed reflexively, head nodding forward, “I think ‘m g’nna pass out.”
“Okay, okay.” Every bit of medical training he had was telling him, firmly, to not panic, but it seemed nearly impossible as the kid’s eyes started to roll. “It’s okay, Pete. Hang on. You’re okay.”
By the time he had the needle tossed carelessly on the shelf beside him, Peter’s whole body had slumped into his arms.
Shit. Shit. The kid was a deadweight, nose digging into his shoulder and limbs loose as Tony tried to manhandle him back onto the bed. His brain whirred. Had he ever seen Peter not rambling, full of energy? He didn’t think so. Maybe for a handful of seconds, back in Berlin, when Tony had been so sure that the kid was dead, that he’d brought a child into this fight and then he’d gotten him killed-
He cut the thoughts off. Not the time, not the place. He could have a panic attack about it later, once Peter was gone.
“Alright,” he muttered, mostly to ground himself, carefully twisting Peter and laying him back against the bed, cradling his head so he didn’t strain the poor kid’s neck. “You’re fine.”
He snatched a cotton ball and hastily pressed it against the pinprick bleeding sluggishly on the inside of Peter’s elbow. Nearly as soon as he’d started the pressure, Peter’s eyelids flickered, fingers spasming as his brain came back online.
Thank god, Tony thought, not even a little ashamed of the relief. Thank god.
“Hey there, Spider-boy.” He kept a firm but gentle hand pressed against Peter’s shoulder as the kid blinked around groggily. “Did you plan on telling me you’ve got a needle phobia, or was this all a ploy to hasten my inevitable heart attack?”
“Sorry,” Peter slurred, eyes finding his face slowly, still disoriented.
He felt a flash of guilt for going for the kid when he was still so obviously out of it.
“It’s alright.” He let his voice soften. “You feeling okay now? Dizzy? Nauseous?”
“‘M alright.” In all fairness, Peter did seem to be bouncing back with every passing second. His cheeks had some color to them, and his eyes were brighter. He even had the presence of mind to look embarrassed. “Uh, sorry about that.”
“The only thing you need to be sorry for is not warning me,” he chastised. “I would’ve had you lie down, at least.”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that.”
Peter winced, eyes flickering over to the supplies Tony had chucked onto the shelf in his haste. “Did you get the blood?”
“I got enough.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Pete, I think we’ve reached our apology limit for the day.” He shot the kid what he hoped was a comforting smile. “At least I know now. I’ll catch you quicker next time.”
Horror fell across the kid’s face, and Tony forced himself not to laugh. “There will not be a next time.”
“What? Do you think you can live a whole life as a superhero without needing to get stuck a couple of times?”
“Oh, god.”
“Rethinking your life choices?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“…Yes.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“Shut up.”
2.
As Tony predicted, there was most definitely a “next time.”
And, thankfully for his heart, it actually had nothing to do with the kid’s whole vigilante alter ego.
Peter needed his meningitis booster.
Tony had had to organize for Cho to give it to him at the Tower, since the concentration of the vaccine had to be different in order to take into account Peter’s enhancements. Plus, it would be the kid’s first vaccination since the bite. They had no idea how his body might react.
Both he and May had decided early on that they wanted him to get it somewhere that was fully equipped to handle any complications that might arise.
Hence Tony convincing Cho to fly all the way from her research lab in Seoul just to give a certain teenage superhero a shot.
Sometimes even Tony had to acknowledge how ridiculous his life was.
Cho got to the Tower just a few minutes after Peter, just in time to see the kid jostling nervously in front of the chosen MedBay room. If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d think that he was leading the kid to his death from how pale he was.
If Cho noticed his anxiety, she did a bang of job of ignoring it. She smiled brightly at the kid, shaking his hand as if she’d never had a more normal day.
“Hello, Peter,” she greeted, shooting Tony a glance. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Helen Cho.”
“I know,” Peter whispered, clearly starstruck. “Your-Your research is really cool, ma’am. Mister Stark’s let me read your papers.”
Her eyebrow quirked up in surprise. “Thank you. There’s quite a lot of advanced concepts in those. I’m impressed.”
“Well, I don’t understand all of it, but-”
“Kid’s being modest,” Tony interrupted, amused. “Now, c’mon, kiddo. Let’s get this over with. Go in there and hop up on the bed. Helen and I will be there in a sec.”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “Why aren’t you coming with me?”
“I just wanted to help Helen check the vaccine one more time. I’m the one who synthesized it, after all.”
The kid didn’t look convinced, but he shuffled off towards the door with a shrug.
As soon as the lock clicked shut, Helen spoke.
“You and I both know that you’ve already checked the composition of that vaccine with the obsessiveness of a mother hen. So, what’s the actual problem?”
He sighed. “Kid’s scared shitless of needles. Thought I’d tell you out here so he wouldn’t be so embarrassed and try to downplay it.”
“How afraid?”
“According to his aunt, he’s never managed a single shot without fainting.”
Cho’s eyes went wide. “Never?”
“Never.”
“Well,” he could see her working through options in her head, “we’ll make him lay down rather than sit, then. Can you try to distract him?”
“I can try, but I’m not sure it’ll work.”
“Even so, it’s worth a shot. If he still faints, you can let me know and keep him calm when he wakes up.”
“Wait, why is it my job to keep him calm?”
“Because he knows you,” Cho shot back. “C’mon. Don’t pretend you aren’t fond of him, because I know you too well for that to work.”
Well, that was true. He and Cho had known each other for a while, now, through injuries and disasters and, of course, the splintering of the Avengers. Tony certainly hadn’t meant for them to get close, but those kinds of things tended to happen without his permission.
Exhibit A: the super-kid sitting just a room away.
“Don’t tell him.”
“I won’t,” Cho promised, putting a hand on the door. “Now, let’s get this vaccine finished, and you can both stop worrying about it.”
“I’m not-”
He cut himself off abruptly as she swung the door open.
“Oh, hey,” Peter greeted. He’d perched himself on the edge of the exam bed, swinging his feet anxiously. “‘S the vaccine okay?”
It took Tony a second to remember his earlier lie. He hoped the kid didn’t pick up on the hesitation.
“Oh, yep,” he said, smiling a little wider than he probably had to. “All ready.”
“Do you mind laying down, Peter?” Cho asked, smiling disarmingly as organized her supplies. “Tony’s going to talk to you, so just try to focus on him.”
Peter groaned, but did as he was told, flopping back against the bed while shooting a pitiful glare in Tony’s direction. “You told her.”
He scoffed, positioning himself at Peter head and out of Cho’s way. “Of course I told her. What’d you want me to do? Fake surprise when you took an unplanned nosedive?”
The kid pouted, although the expression wasn’t all that effective viewed from above. “You don’t know I’m going to faint.”
“And with any luck, you won’t,” Cho interrupted, pushing Peter’s sleeve up and swabbing his bicep. “Try to relax this arm for me.”
Fear, sudden and harsh, darted over the kid’s face. “Do I, uh, do I really need this vaccine?” He asked, breath quickening. “Like, how bad is meningitis anyway?”
“It’s bad,” Tony deadpanned. “D’you want me to list the symptoms?”
Peter shook his head, biting down hard enough on his lip that Tony briefly considered telling him off. “Not really.”
“You get a rash, and a fever, and then you get all weird and paranoid, your neck hurts, and then you die.”
Cho sighed, syringe prepped in her hand. When Tony met her eyes, she shot him a pointed look. “Tony, you’re not helping. Peter, take a nice, deep breath in, alright?”
The kid squeezed his eyes shut, muscles coiled like a spring. “Are you doing it?”
“Not yet,” Cho lied, positioning the needle and nodding gently to Tony. “Breathe, Peter.”
In the end, the shot was the most anticlimactic part of the whole goddamn endeavor. It wasn’t until Cho actually depleted the contents that Peter seemed to notice that he’d been stuck, and it wasn’t until after she’d pulled the needle out that he realized they’d tricked him.
“All done,” Cho said, plastering a band-aid over the injection sight. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Peter?”
“You lied,” Peter suddenly accused, pushing himself into a half-sitting position. “That’s-That’s not fair. You said you weren’t doing it yet.”
Tony set his hands on the kid’s shoulders, gently trying to lower him back down to the mattress. “Easy there, Tiger. Let’s stay still for a minute.”
Peter ignored him, shoving his steadying grip away and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
If he was being honest, Tony saw the impending dip of unconsciousness sweep over Peter’s face a good few seconds before it actually happened. It was lucky, really, because it gave him the chance to gather the kid up at the exact second that his metaphorical strings got cut.
“Whoa, whoa,” he murmured, wincing as the kid’s head lolled against his collarbone. “You’re okay. You’re an idiot, but you’re okay.”
“Teenagers,” Cho sighed, shaking her head. “Lay him back down. He should be up again in a minute.”
Getting Peter onto the bed turned out to be a lot easier with another set of hands. Once they had him settled, Cho took his pulse, lips pursed.
“He’s fine,” she muttered after a few seconds, releasing the kid’s wrist. “You can breathe now, Tony.”
It wasn’t until then that Tony realized that he had been holding his breath. Now that he was thinking about it, actually, his lungs burned. He gasped, then glared at the look of triumph on Cho’s face.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you thought it.”
The sound of movement from the bed interrupted them.
Peter moved his head back and forth a few times, eyelids flickering, before he actually seemed to rouse. The kid blinked up at them slowly for a few seconds, mind clearly ticking over a few times before a thought could catch. “Thought I did it,” he finally muttered, brow furrowing.
“Very nearly,” Tony drawled, unamused. “If you’d stayed put, you might’ve.”
Cho gave his shoulder a shove from behind. “You sat up a little too soon. That’s all.”
“Ugh,” the kid groaned. “I don’t even remember doing that.”
“The sinner’s defense.”
This time, Cho’s shove was more of a slap. “Tony.”
“Alright.” He raised his hands in surrender, but still pinned Peter under a scowl. “Don’t do that again.”
“It’s not like I meant to!”
Cho rolled her eyes, pushing past Tony to shoot the kid a wink. “You just scared him. That’s why he’s being so dramatic. Now, you stay horizontal for a few more minutes, and we’ll give Tony’s heart a break.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Indignation rose in Tony’s throat. “Oh, so you’ll listen to her, but not me?”
“I told you: I don’t even remember sitting up.” After a few seconds of silence, Peter rubbed at his band-aid, face screwing up in discomfort. “Mister Stark, my arm aches.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t you feel sorry for me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Tony swallowed back a laugh.
“Call it retribution.”
2.5.
Before Thanos, before Titan, Tony would’ve jokingly said that he would do anything to avoid dealing with Peter’s needle phobia again.
In the five years of emptiness that came after, he realized that anything was a dangerous word.
3.
Tony was in the middle of watching Morgan construct a Lego city when his phone rang.
It was an unknown number, but he answered it anyway. Either it was spam, and he’d hang up, or it was important.
“Hello?”
“Is this, uh, Tony Stark?”
The tone of disbelief in the woman’s voice made Tony snort. “It is. And you are?”
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, Mister Stark. I thought that maybe the kids were playing a prank. I’m Rebecca Ascot from Midtown School of Science and Technology. You’re listed as Peter Parker’s secondary emergency contact, and he asked us to call you instead of his aunt, since she’s on shift.”
He stood abruptly, carefully slipping around Morgan’s newest Lego skyscraper and heading down the hall, to the guest room they’d appropriated as Pepper’s office. “Is he alright?”
“He is, but I do need someone to come pick him up. See, we’re having a blood drive, for the Red Cross, and-”
Tony didn’t even try to hide his laughter. “He tried to donate, and he passed out, didn’t he?”
“Uh, yes. How did you-”
“This happens a lot, actually.” He paused outside of the office door, checking his watch. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Might be an hour. Will you let him know I’m coming?”
“Of course. He’ll be with the nurse. Just come through the front doors and one of us can take you to him.”
“Thank you.”
He poked his head into the office to let Pepper know he was going, then headed out to the driveway, still chuckling quietly to himself.
His kid was so stupid. He loved him so goddamn much, sure, he was so stupid.
(He couldn’t help but acknowledge that he was also ridiculously glad that the kid was alive to be stupid, too. He’d missed that more than he’d ever realized he would.)
The drive to Midtown went quicker than he’d thought it would. He pulled into the parking lot just 50 minutes after he’d left the cabin.
Sure enough, the same woman who had called him before met him at the front desk, leading him deep into the bowels of the sweat-smelling hallways. Tony forced himself not to wrinkle his nose.
Of all the things to look back on, he did not miss high school. Or, the version of high school that he’d had.
The nurse’s office was more of a closet than an office, with a small cot pressed up against one wall and a computer desk half blocking the door. Peter was laid out on the bed, holding his phone over his face and clearly scrolling aimlessly through some app. When he saw Tony come in, he grinned, then winced, as if it had taken him a second to remember exactly why his mentor had come to get him.
The nurse, who had been sitting at the desk, stood, rushing over to shake his hand. “Mister Stark. I’m glad you could make it. I’m sure you’re very busy.”
He didn’t admit that he really wasn’t. Not nowadays, anyway. After the Snap, his life had tumbled into a monotony of fatherhood and rest.
“Never too busy for the kid,” he said instead, shooting said kid a pointed look when he tried to stand. “How is he?”
“He’s doing okay,” the nurse answered, smiling. “I think he’s still feeling a little groggy, but a good meal should help with that. He wanted to go back to class, but we thought it’d be better if he went home and got some sleep.”
He thanked her and made a beeline for Peter, who had sat up and had his arms crossed irritably in front of his chest. Tony could see the place where a cotton ball had been taped to the inside of his arm, and he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.
Only his idiot kid would decide to donate blood when he knew he had a severe needle phobia.
He spotted Peter’s backpack on the floor and shouldered it before he could grab it himself. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s split.”
The kid hopped off the bed. “Aren’t you afraid I’m gonna faceplant in the hall?”
He waved goodbye to the nurse as they slipped out the door. Thankfully, it must’ve still been between class periods, so the hallways were empty.
He shot a glance back at Peter, trying to decipher whether the question was a joke or a warning. “I’d catch you.”
“You’re not sure though, are you?”
“I’m very sure.” Just in case, he dropped back so that he could easily grab Peter’s elbow if he seemed to wobble. “D’you feel like you’re gonna faint?”
“God, I was joking,” the kid groaned, sidestepping away from him. “Seriously. The needle’s gone, so I’m fine.”
Peter was probably right, but that didn’t stop Tony from staying within arm’s distance of him until he was safely tucked into the passenger’s seat.
He got behind the wheel and waited until Peter’s seatbelt clicked into place before putting the car in gear. “I’m taking you back to the cabin.”
“I’d be fine at my apartment,” the kid said, although there was a tired acceptance in his voice.
“Maybe. But if anything happened, you’d be alone until May got off work.” He sighed, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road. “What on Earth possessed you to donate blood? You hate needles. This is known.”
“Maybe I wanted to help my fellow man.”
He snorted, flipping on his blinker. “Uh-huh. Because I definitely buy that.”
Peter threw his hands up. “Fine. If we donated then we got out of gym, okay? And I hate gym. I have to pretend to be slower than everyone else and Flash is a dick.”
What a stupid goddam reason. It was definitely the truth.
“So you thought, oh, this’ll be great, I’ll just pass out instead?”
“I didn’t think I’d pass out.”
“Peter, you always pass out. You got queasy watching Doc McStuffins with Morgan the other day.” He chuckled at the memory. “There wasn’t even a real needle, buddy, and the episode was supposed to teach kids to not be afraid of shots.”
“Can you not laugh at me?” Peter griped, curling his knees to his chest. “I still feel like roadkill.”
Pity washed through Tony. The kid really didn’t look great. It seemed like he’d gotten the unlucky side of today’s fainting coin toss. It always seemed to be 50/50 odds whether he’d bounce right back within half an hour or feel shit for the rest of the day.
“Alright, alright.” And, god, he did feel bad for the kid, really, but he also couldn’t help himself. “I’ve got juice boxes back at the cabin. If you ask nicely, I’m sure Morgan’ll give you one.”
Peter turned towards the window with a huff, although laughter tinged his voice. “I hate you.”
“Sure.”
4.
By the time Peter tore his ACL into shreds for the third goddamn time during Spider-Man-related stunts, Tony and Cho had become pros at handling the kid’s IVs.
It was a little funny, actually. Peter was an absolute trooper through the pain of the injury, just grit his teeth and pushed through it. He wasn’t even afraid of the surgery to repair it, or the idea of being put under. He had total faith in both Helen’s abilities and the dosage of Tony’s super-kid anesthetics.
It was just the whole process of administering the anesthetics that was the issue.
Drugs meant IVs, and IVs meant needles. Big needles, too. Big, scary needles. They even turned Tony’s stomach if he looked at them too long. He couldn’t imagine how the poor kid felt.
And all of that was why Tony was given the honor of accompanying Peter into the OR, at least until they put him under. They might as well have given him a badge that said Official Fainting Coordinator.
Cho watched Peter’s pulse rate on the monitor for a minute before turning to back to him, lips curving up in minor amusement. “Nervous, Peter?”
Tony snorted. “About the surgery or the IV?”
Peter glared, but Tony didn’t miss the paleness of his face. “In my defense, it’s a really big needle.”
He ran a comforting hand through the kid’s hair even as he teased him. “You’ll probably save on the drugs, Helen. All you’ll need to do is show him the cannula and he’s gonna put himself right to sleep for you.”
“Very funny, Tony.” Cho rolled her eyes as she prepped the IV. “I reckon you just want to go ahead and get this part over with, right Peter?”
The kid nodded, biting his lip and looking surprisingly brave. “Please.”
If Tony was being honest, he was pretty damn proud of him.
“Alright.” Cho rubbed an alcohol swab over the crook of the kid’s bare elbow. “You know the drill. Try to take some deep breaths.”
Tony cupped the side of Peter’s face and made sure his hand was blocking any view the kid may have had of the IV being inserted. “C’mon, kid. You’ve got this. Remember what Helen said? Deep, steady breaths.”
“Right.” Peter drew in a dramatically heavy breath, then pushed it out. “Just… breathing. I can, uh, I can do that. I can do breathing.”
“Can’t breathe if you’re talking, squirt.”
“Can too.”
He swallowed back a laugh. “You’re doing great.”
The kid must’ve felt Cho steady his arm, because he stiffened all at once. “Can you-Can you tell me when you’re gonna do it?”
“Sorry, bud,” he gave him a sympathetic smile, “probably better if you don’t know.”
“No, no, no. I-I gotta know.”
“Alright, Peter,” Cho soothed, voice calm and steady, “that’s fine.”
Tony envied Cho’s bedside manner. Somehow, as the years passed and he got closer and closer with the kid, he’d lost any hope of removing himself from the fear that came with watching him pass out. He was getting better at hiding it, sure, but god was it frightening.
“Now, Peter,” Cho warned, and Tony didn’t even need to watch to know the exact second that the needle went in, since the kid’s whole face went deathly pale.
“Breathe, Pete,” he murmured, despite knowing full well that the kid was bound to pass out no matter what he did at this point, “just breathe. You’re fine.”
In Peter’s defense, he did try to follow Tony’s instructions. He managed two brief, half breaths, clearly swallowing against a bout of nausea, before his eyes rolled back.
“Okay, well,” he rubbed the kid’s cheek with the pad of his thumb, “that was a good effort, buddy.”
Cho glanced up from where she was taping the cannula in place. “Did he faint?”
“Mhm.”
She laughed, gesturing to one of her nurses. “Can you put his feet up and check his BP? We’ll have to monitor it to know when we’re safe to anesthetize him.”
“So we’re gonna wait for him to wake up so we can put him to sleep again?”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.” Cho took Peter’s pulse and quickly recorded it into a StarkPad. “Anesthetic is known to drop a patient’s blood pressure, so we don’t want to administer it when another factor, such as syncope, might be affecting it.”
It took less than thirty seconds for Peter to blink himself awake, perfectly calm. At this point, both he and Tony were used this.
“Oh.” The kid took a few seconds to orient himself before trying his hand at anything more verbose. “Did I faint?”
“Yep,” Tony soothed, brushing a stray curl clear of the kid’s face. “You really tried to hang in there, though. I was impressed.”
“I’m a go-getter.”
“You sure are.”
“Alright, your BP’s coming up, so we should be good to get going.” Cho came close enough to meet Peter’s eyes, smiling down at him fondly. “I reckon you’ll be asleep for a little longer this time.”
Peter blushed, faking a pout. “Why is everyone bullying me?”
“Because it’s fun, bud.”
Helen rolled her eyes at the bickering. “Have you picked out something nice to dream about, Peter?”
The kid scrunched up his face. “I dunno. Maybe a universe where my phobias are given the respect they deserve.”
“You’d better hope Helen’s got something a little stronger than Fentanyl for that, Pete. Seems a little too outlandish to me.”
“Ignore Tony.” Cho screwed her first syringe into the IV. “This is just saline.”
The kid tried to look over at his arm, but Tony set his hand against his face to block his view, gently turning his head to the side so all he could look at was his mentor. “Easy. You don’t need to look.”
“How’d you screw it in without me noticing?”
Cho smirked as she depressed the plunger and checked that the saline flushed properly. “I’m very good at my job.”
Tony nodded. “I only hire the best.”
“I don’t technically work for you, Tony.”
“You don’t not work for me.”
“I do you favors. There’s a difference.”
“You do me favors that I reimburse you for.”
“In research grants.”
“And?”
“That’s not exactly employment.” Cho gently screwed in the syringe of anesthetic and nodded to Tony in warning. “Alright, Peter. Ready to go to sleep?”
“And get a break from Mister Stark for a while? I’ve never been readier.”
“Joke’s on you, buddy. I plan to be the first face you see in recovery. And for you, that means you’ll see this mug again in a blink.”
He didn’t miss the way the kid’s eyes softened with relief. “Gross.”
Cho just rolled her eyes at their banter and started pushing down the plunger.
“Deep breaths.” He brushed a hand through the kid’s hair and gave him an easy smile. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”
Peter made a face. “Ew. Tastes gross.”
Tony shook his head with a laugh. “Such a child.”
“Not a child.”
“Whatever you say, kiddo.”
Peter’s eyelids drooped suddenly, and Tony brushed his knuckles against his cheek in reassurance. “That’s it. Just breathe.” He waited a second or two as the kid’s eyes fluttered fully shut. “Goodnight, buddy.”
“‘S not ev’n night,” Peter slurred, mouth quirking up in a groggy smile.
“Mhm. That’s true,” he murmured, stoutly ignoring the look Helen was giving him out of the corner of his eye, “you’re right. Good boy.”
Even after Peter’s eyes had long since rolled back and his head lolled, he kept running gentle fingers through the kid’s hair until a nurse stopped across the bed and gave him a coaxing smile.
“Thank you so much, Mister Stark. You did brilliantly.” Tony didn’t even bother pointing out that he didn’t do anything. “Do you mind if I take over now? I’d like to start him on oxygen.”
“Right.” Every protective instinct he had screamed in protest as he forced himself to pull his hands away from Peter’s face and step back. “Thanks.”
He watched the nurse tilt Peter’s head upwards and set two firm fingers on the underside of his chin. Tony knew that she was just supporting his airway, that it was totally normally for a patient to be slightly apneic after anesthetic, but the action made his heart stutter in his chest.
The nurse glanced up at him with the same bright smile as before. “I’m sure he’d love a kiss from Dad before you left.”
Surprise jolted through him, and he found himself stuttering out an explanation before his mind caught up with his mouth. “Oh, I’m not his-”
“Oh yes, Dad.” Helen shot him a little smirk, tone playful. “It’s a vital part of the procedure, after all. For luck. Better to be safe than sorry, I’d say.”
He rolled his eyes, tempted to just leave with a snarky comment, but something strange and parental flared in his chest as he glanced back at Peter’s slack face.
He brushed back a few of Peter’s stray curls and laid his palm flat against his forehead for a moment before slipping his hand back and pressing his lips to the kid’s temple.
When he pulled away, he lingered just long enough to murmur a gentle reassurance. “Be good, buddy. I’ll be right there when you wake up.”
In a swift movement, he detached himself from the kid’s side and made a beeline for the door. He knew that if he didn’t leave now, he might never be able to.
He paused by the OR’s exit, turning back to catch Helen’s attention.
“Do you think you can make sure the IV is out before he wakes up? I’d just… rather not deal with him fainting twice in one day on top of the surgery.”
It’s too much for my damn heart to handle.
Helen smiled, face full of understanding. “Once he starts stirring, I’ll give him a dose of analgesics and pull it out. Once that wears off, he should be fine to start oral painkillers anyway.”
He let his gratitude bleed into his voice. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
5.
From the moment Morgan Stark started to talk, she’d been a spitfire.
It wasn’t like anyone had been surprised, of course. How could she be anything else, with Pepper Potts and Tony Stark as her parents?
So when she was seven, and she boldly declared that she wanted to get her ears pierced, the one thing Tony hadn’t been was surprised.
He had, however, absolutely hated the idea.
He hated it even more when Morgan somehow managed to coerce Peter into agreeing to get one of his ears pierced with her.
And yeah, yeah. He knew that ear piercings really weren’t all that painful. Hell, he’d had both his done back when he was a teenager and he barely even remembered it pinching. He’d gotten the kids an appointment with a well-rated shop despite Morgan’s attempts to get him to go to Claire’s of all places. It was just… the thought of watching both his children have their bodies literally stabbed with needles was not his favorite daydream.
Oh, and there was also no way in hell that Peter would make it through the piercing without passing out, so that would make the day extra fun.
Morgan went first, all enthusiasm and nonchalance. She hopped up onto the chair and grinned like this was the easiest thing she’d ever done in her life.
The piercer explained what he’d do in quiet tones, setting up his supplies on the side as he talked.
“Do you want Dad to hold your hand?”
Morgan shrugged. “Sure.”
Yep, that was his girl. Independent until the last gasp.
He held her hand anyway, but something told him it was more for his benefit than hers.
(He didn’t miss the fact the Peter closed his eyes for the whole thing, face turned towards the wall and hands balled up into fists.)
Meanwhile, Morgan didn’t even flinch when the needle went in.
When the piercer pulled back from finishing up the first earing, she cocked her head to the side and laughed.
“Is it done?”
“Yep! One down and one to go. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She giggled again, turning to stare up at Tony with sparkling eyes. “It didn’t even hurt!”
“That’s because you’re so tough,” he said, poking her stomach. “And very brave.”
The second ear was just as easy as the first, much to Tony’s secret relief, and Morgan hopped off the chair with a bright smile, listening intently while the piercer told her how to clean and sterilize the site.
Now, of course, came the hard part.
“You don’t have to do this, y’know,” he murmured to Peter as he took his own place on the chair, face pale. “She’s not your master.”
“I know, but I promised. Besides,” the kid shot Tony a shaky grin, “you have your ears pierced. We’ll, uh, we’ll all match now.”
“Is that really worth it?”
Peter shrugged. “I mean, I’m still doing it.”
“Well, I can tell when I’ve been beaten.” He rubbed the kid’s arm with the back of his knuckles. “I’ll catch you, by the way.”
Peter turned to glare at him half-heartedly. “Who says I’m gonna faint?”
“Can you cite a single past experience that supports the hypothesis that you won’t?”
The kid blinked, then sighed. “I guess you’re right. But I’m still gonna do it.”
The piercer turned back to them, finished with his little speech to Morgan. He shot Peter a wink as he changed his gloves. “Alright. Baby sister gave you one hell of an act to follow, huh?”
Morgan returned to Tony’s side, bouncing up and down as she grasped at his shirt. “It didn’t even hurt, Petey! You’ll be fine!”
“Just so you know,” he slid a preparatory arm around Peter’s shoulders, “he’s definitely gonna faint.”
The piercer balked. “Are you sure?”
“Almost positive.”
Morgan tugged at his hem, excitement quickly morphing into concern. “Petey’s gonna faint?”
“Yup. You ever seen someone faint, Morgan?”
“On TV.”
“Well, your brother’s about to give you a live demonstration.” At her stricken expression, he rushed to elaborate. “It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt him. It’s just like going to sleep really, really fast.”
Morgan looked at Peter, eyebrows furrowing. “How come, though?”
“Not a big fan of needles,” Peter answered, smiling, although Tony could see that the expression was already a little wobbly. “I’ll be fine, though, Morgs. Don’t worry about it.”
The piercer touched the kid’s elbow, although he made eye contact with Tony, which amused him to no end. Peter was technically an adult, now, but he still looked 12. “I’ve got a table in another room, instead of a chair. We can go there, so he can lay down-”
“Nope,” Peter said, and Tony nearly groaned at the kid’s stubbornness.
“Pete, c’mon-”
“I’m not gonna faint.”
“Sure,” Tony drawled, tightening his grip around Peter’s shoulders and settling a hand on the back of his head under the guise of fixing the kid’s hair. “Please don’t mind me, though. I’m just gonna stand here and, uh, observe.”
Also see: I’m going to make sure you don’t brain yourself on the floor when your confidence falters, because I love you dearly and I really don’t want to explain that particular cause of death to your aunt.
“Alright. Take a deep breath in,” the piercer coached. Tony forced himself not to look at the needle as he pushed it through. “And let it out.”
He quickly grabbed the kid’s face when he saw his eyes go distant, carefully trying to hold him steady enough for the damn thing to get finished.
“You’re okay,” he murmured, letting Peter’s forehead rest against his chest. “Everything’s alright, kiddo.”
“Is he alright?”
Tony bit back a snarky response of obviously not, Einstein, and just nodded. It wasn’t the piercer’s fault that his kids were on the warpath to terrify him. “He’ll be fine in a minute. Is it done?”
“The earring’s in, but I don’t want to put the back on until he’s conscious again.”
“Is Peter asleep?” Morgan asked, peeking her head around Tony to stare up at the kid with a frown. “Why’d he do that? It doesn’t even hurt.”
He forced out a breath. The last thing he wanted was for Morgan to pick up to his anxiety.
“Remember what he said before? He’s scared of needles.”
Morgan’s nose crinkled. “That’s silly.”
“It is a little silly, but-”
Peter stirred. He must’ve felt Tony’s restraining grip and logged it as a threat, because he immediately tried to jerk back, and Tony had to fumble to hold his chin in place. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to try to get away and topple over, or smack his head against the wall.
“Easy, Pete,” he murmured. “It’s just me. You know where you are?”
A few moments passed with Peter slowly processing, and Tony just waited, smoothing his fingers through the kid’s hair.
“Uh-huh,” Peter finally muttered, swallowing hard, and Tony loosened his grip on his face, removing his hand entirely when it was clear that he was capable of supporting his own head’s weight again. “Damn it. Thought I’d be fine.”
“And I knew you wouldn’t be. Dad instincts triumph yet again, huh?”
Morgan nodded solemnly at his side. “Daddy’s always right.”
“He does have a knack for it that, doesn’t he?” Peter smiled tiredly at his sister. “I didn’t scare you, did I?”
She shook her head. “Nuh-uh. It was kinda funny, though.”
“Well, I’m here to entertain.” The kid’s eyes found the piercer, and he flushed. “Sorry. Did you get it in?”
“I did. I just need to get the back on the earing.” After a few seconds of fiddling with Peter’s ear, he stepped back. “All done. I’m gonna take a wild guess and assume you only want the one.”
“He only wants the one,” Tony answered, shooting Peter a warning look. “Sorry, buddy, but there’s only so much adrenaline I can handle in a single day.”
The piercer laughed, digging around in a drawer, then emerging with a lollipop, which he handed to Peter. “Here. The sugar’ll help.”
“Can I have a lollipop too?” Morgan asked, leaning her elbows against Peter’s knees. “Please?”
The piercer grinned, reaching back into the drawer and brandishing a pair. “Sure.” After handing the first to Morgan, he held out the second to Tony. “Does Dad want one, too?”
Tony shrugged. “You know what?” He took it, pulling off the wrapper and sticking it dramatically into his mouth. “I earned this.”
Morgan giggled. “What did you do, Daddy?”
“Daddy watched you two get stuck with needles and didn’t put a stop to it. I think that showed remarkable restraint.” He returned his attention to Peter, who was looking significantly better for just a minute’s rest. “You feelin’ okay down there?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine now.”
Oh, he’s fine now. Great. Fantastic. Glad he’s managed to bounce back quicker than my heartrate.
“You’re exhausting,” he muttered around the stick. “You scare me every goddamn time you do that.”
“Sorry,” Peter whispered, looking suitably sheepish. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Never get another piercing.”
The kid laughed. “Okay, for once, I can totally promise you that.”