Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Um, I have a small problem over here,” Peter said without preamble when Tony picked up the call.

“How small?” Tony asked, standing from his stool, already on the way to a suit.

“Uh… about twelve inches long?” Peter’s voice trembled.

“… What?”

“I got stabbed.” Tony immediately took off as the suit close around him, zooming toward Queens.

“Ok, next time, just say that. Don’t be cute about it,” he snapped.

“Next time?” he heard Peter mutter, probably not meaning to be heard.

Tony landed in the alley where Peter’s tracker said he was. He had to look for him for a moment, not immediately noticing that he was tucked behind a dumpster, sitting against the wall.

Tony approached, trying to find where Peter was injured. His stomach lurched when he did.

It looked like Peter was holding a piece of rebar next to his leg, but then his hand moved and the rebar stayed, protruding from either side of Peter’s thigh, one end dark with blood. Tony had to swallow back a mouthful of bile.

“Oh, hey,” Peter breathed as Tony came closer. His mask was off, showing his pale, sweaty face. He was breathing hard, his face scrunched up in pain.

“Hi, kid. How does getting that looked at sound?” Tony crouched next to him. The wound looked worse up close.

“Good,” Peter said. “My, uh…, my leg isn’t working right for some reason. I don’t think I can walk.”

“That’s ok. You up for an aerial tour of Midtown?”

Peter nodded, closing his eyes.

Tony went to pick Peter up, but then hesitated. “We should probably stabilize that. I don’t want to jostle it.”

Peter’s face went a little green at the thought of the rebar getting bumped. He nodded jerkily again, looking down at his leg.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “That looks really gross.”

“Yeah, it does,” Tony agreed. It took Peter a minute to spray a thick layer of webbing on either side of his leg, but then they were ready to go. Tony carefully scooped Peter into his arms, trying really hard not to aggravate the foot long piece of metal sticking out of the kid’s leg.

The flight to the tower was short, but Tony got the feeling that it took all of Peter’s concentration not to pass out on the way.

“I’ve got someone for you to meet, Underroos,” Tony said as they landed on balcony.

“This’ll make a great first impression,” Peter muttered weakly. Tony tried to smother his laugh: this was a serious situation.

“I’m going to set you down for a minute, alright? So I can get the suit off.”

Peter nodded, sliding out of Tony’s arms. He clutched at the railing of the balcony, looking about two seconds from falling over.

Tony quickly shed the suit, stepping over to Peter as soon as it was off. He wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled Peter’s arm over his shoulders.

“Ok, Pete, we just got a little ways to the medbay, alright? There’s a surprise there for you and everything,” he wheedled, hoping a little incentive would help the kid walk on his own.

“Cool, cool,” Peter said. “Let’s go.”

They took one step forward and Peter’s leg gave out. Tony caught him, readjusting his grip and hoisting Peter back into his arms.

“Oof. Should’ve kept the suit on,” he grumbled to himself.

“Sorry,” Peter panted as he turned his face into Tony’s shoulder. He was clutching at his shirt with shaking hands, and Tony was reminded (as if he could ever forget) of how young Peter was.

“This is embarrassing,” Peter added as they made their way down the hall.

Tony didn’t answer, too preoccupied with not dropping the injured kid in his arms.

The medbay doors opened automatically as Tony approached. He staggered in, hurrying to the nearest bed to deposit his, surprisingly heavy, charge. He tried to be gentle setting him down, but Peter still had to bite back a sob as his hurt leg was bumped.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony quickly apologized. Peter waved him off, still breathing harshly.

Bruce was waiting for them. He hurried forward, his face twisted in disgust at Peter’s leg. Tony had had FRIDAY warn him, and pull up all the files on Peter. He already knew medicine did almost nothing for him.

“What happened?” He asked, leaning down to examine the webbing holding the rebar still.

“Haven’t gotten to that yet,” Tony said briskly. “Bruce, meet Peter. Peter, Bruce.”

Peter opened his eyes for the first time since entering the medbay.

“Oh, man,” he whispered. “That’s Bruce Banner and I got carried in here in Iron Man’s arms. This is both the best and worst day of my life.”

Tony let him finish his rant, eyebrow raised as he tried not to smile.

Bruce seemed a little baffled by Peter, not quite sure how to handle his remark.

“Uh, hi, Peter. I’m Bruce. I’m going to take care of your leg, if that’s alright.”

“Sounds great. And then maybe we can pretend I walked in here on my own, barely noticing the giant piece of metal sticking out of my leg, preferably saying something very intelligent?” Peter suggested, looking sheepish.

Bruce laughed, then seemed surprised that he had.

“Sure, Peter. Anything you say.”

Peter nodded and then collapsed back onto the cot, covering his face with one arm. Tony sidled up next to the bed, hesitating for a moment before putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Relax, kid. Bruce is good at what he does,” Tony tried to sooth. Peter let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Bruce Banner is good at what he does. Yeah, Mr. Stark, I got that. It just…” He cut himself off before he could say that it hurt.

“Hurts,” Tony filled in for him, because for some reason Peter stopping himself from admitting to being in pain reminded Tony of himself. And he didn’t want that.

Peter nodded, his face still hidden.

“Ok, Peter, I’m just to remove the webbing so I can take a look at the wound, alright?” Peter made a noise of affirmation. Bruce carefully cut the webbing away with a scalpel, revealing the mess that was Peter’s leg underneath.

Tony looked away, then noticed that Peter had lifted his head and was watching Bruce poke around. He was quickly getting paler.

“Hey, hey, eyes on me, Parker,” Tony ordered. Peter obediently flicked his eyes toward him, but they kept gravitating toward Bruce. He was just trying to see what was going on, Tony knew, but he was also knew that it was easier if he didn’t know.

Tony walked around the bed and perched himself by Peter’s hip, effectively blocking his mangled leg from view. Peter dropped his head back onto his pillow and smiled at Tony sheepishly.

“Right, it looks like the best course of action is to just… pull it out,” Bruce sighed. Tony cringed in sympathy for Peter.

“And Peter, I’m sorry, but if we take the time to figure out a dose of medication that will work for you, your muscle will have started to heal around the metal and we’d have to do surgery to get it out. We’re going to have to do it without.”

Peter’s face went stark white.

“You know, I actually kind of like it. I could hang my socks on it to dry. We should just leave it,” Peter tried to joke, looking desperately at Tony.

“Sorry, kid. I think you’ll like it a lot better once it’s out,” Tony offered. Bruce was scurrying around behind them, getting gauze to soak up the blood after he pulled the rebar out, and snapping on latex gloves.

Peter looked like he was trying not to cry. Tony hesitated for a second, then gently took Peter’s hand in his. Peter’s eyes snapped to his face, then he offered a watery smile and pulled his hand back.

Tony was about to die of embarrassment on the spot when Peter quietly murmured, “I might break your hand.”

Oh.

“Right.” He knew that. He coughed and looked away. Peter instead opted to grip the metal railing on the side of his bed.

Bruce came back to his side. Peter’s breathing ratcheted up, anticipation making his heart beat faster.

“Breathe, Peter,” Tony instructed. “Just focus on me and breathe. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“One, two,” Bruce counted, and then pulled on three. Peter tried his best not to scream, but it leaked out through his teeth anyway. The metal railing he was holding folded like putty under his hand.

“Good job, kiddo,” Tony praised as Peter panted, sweat beading on his forehead. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Bruce depositing the rebar in a sterile container, using one hand to press cloths to the now profusely bleeding wound.

“Worst part’s over,” Bruce assured the two of them. “Now we’ll just clean it, stitch it up, and give you a tetanus booster, just to be safe.”

Peter relaxed, exhausted, back onto the bed, and then shyly reached for Tony’s hand. The stitching would not be pleasant by any means, but it wouldn’t be so bad that he would accidentally crush Tony’s fingers.

Tony swallowed hard as Peter slipped his hand into Tony’s.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I was stabbed?” Tony said, trying to cut the tension.

Peter blinked tiredly up at Tony, shook his head. Tony settled a little more firmly on the bed, still careful to make sure Peter couldn’t see Bruce’s ministrations.

“Well, this was long before I became Iron Man. I was twenty-three at the time, and I don’t know how much about my history you know, kid, but I was… a piece of work. Let’s leave it at that,” Tony rambled.

Peter was watching him through half-lidded eyes. He still hissed as Bruce poured antiseptic over the injury, but his divided attention seemed to help keep him unaware of most of the pain.

“Anyway, I was at a party in Chicago, I think it was, sitting at the bar, minding my own business. And then this woman came over, I swear I’d never seen her before in my life, but she was under the impression we were the oldest of friends. Not that uncommon when you’re rich, unfortunately. But I was… um… a little tipsy—” plastered, if he was honest, but this was Peter and he didn’t want to say that in front of him “—and not in a good mood.”

Bruce had started his stiches behind Tony. Peter flinched often, but kept his eyes on Tony’s face.

“So I told her, very politely, to go away, and she did not like that. With absolutely zero prompting whatsoever, she picked up a fork and stabbed me in the arm,” Tony said, using his free hand to pull up his sleeve to show Peter the old scar.

Peter was obviously torn between looking horrified and laughing. His jaw dropped as he saw the little scar and he snickered a bit.

“Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark. What did you—” He cut off, gasping at a particularly painful stitch. Bruce muttered an apology from behind him.

“Well, I called my body guard over, obviously. She had to be dragged out, kicking and screaming. I swear, she was loony.”

Peter laughed again, but a tear slid out of the corner of his eye. Without thinking, 
Tony leaned forward and brushed it away with his thumb. Then he froze, as if realizing what he’d just done. He and Peter made eye contact.

“All done!” Bruce announced and Tony jumped in surprise.

“Great,” Tony said, clearing his throat. He stood from the bed and Peter’s hand slipped out of his. “Let’s get you out of this suit, huh, kid?”

Peter nodded, sitting up stiffly. Tony left for a few minutes to get Peter some clothes to wear and came back to hear Peter and Bruce chatting about Bruce’s research. Tony stepped into the room and they both turned to him, Peter looking ecstatic at having just talked to The Bruce Banner, while both of Bruce’s eyebrows were raised at Tony. He looked impressed.

“Knew you two would get along. Pete’s too much of a nerd not to,” Tony said, striding forward. Peter let out an indignant ‘hey!’, but didn’t disagree.

Peter insisted that Bruce leave and Tony close his eyes while he changed. Tony could hear his grunts as he struggled with his still bad leg. Tony thought it was ridiculous, but didn’t say anything cause he was very aware of how creepy it would sound. After a minute of standing there with his hands held out for Peter to balance on, Peter said he was dressed.

Tony opened his eyes. Peter’s face was red and pained, but he looked fairly triumphant, and fully dressed.

Bruce came back in and they both put their arms around Peter’s waist, helping him walk toward the living room. Bruce had offered a wheelchair but Peter had wrinkled his nose. Tony wasn’t sure how this was better, but it was the kid’s prerogative.

“We’ll get you set up on the couch,” Tony said as the trip limped along. “And you can get some sleep. How’s that sound, bud?”

“Good,” Peter panted, nodding. A curl fell into his eye and Tony reached up to brush it away since Peter couldn’t, both of his arms over Tony’s and Bruce’s shoulders. He saw Bruce look at him curiously out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it.

After Peter was wrapped up in a blanket, politely asking FRIDAY to pull up an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000, Bruce pulled Tony into the kitchen.

“Ok, Tony, not that I don’t like him, and not that I wasn’t happy to help, but why exactly did the kid come here for medical attention?”

“He has super healing, Bruce, he couldn’t exactly go to the hospital.”

“Alright, I guess my real question was, how do you know him? Why’d he call you for help? Tony Stark doesn’t usually drop everything to go save some common vigilante.”

Tony shrugged, smiling despite himself. “Because, as you’ll learn pretty fast, Bruce, Peter Parker is much more than some common anything. He’s going to save the world someday,” Tony said. And he meant it.