"God, I can't believe you'd be so irresponsible, Peter. For Christ's sakes…" Tony started, disappointed eyes weighing heavily on the visibly distraught boy in front of him. Peter opened and closed his mouth multiple times, and Tony vaguely thought he looked a little like a fish. With a frown settling deep on his face, Tony crossed his arms over the white countertop between the two and watched Peter expectantly.

'I-I just, I just wanted to be like y-you guys…" Peter started, balling his sleeves into his palms and looking down to avoid Tony seeing his red eyes. Tony's face hardened while Peter worked to blink away any onslaught of tears. If he wanted to be treated as an Avenger, he had to act like it. He couldn't just start crying whenever he was yelled at and pull that puppy face.

"What do you want to be like, Peter? A brainless vigilante who pokes fun at your enemies until they fire their alien tech and almost kill you? Is that how you want to be?" Tony had started yelling by this point, the concern of the fight still seeping through. Peter and Tony had been stalked by the Vulture's men for about a week before the gang had pushed through with an armed assault in the middle of an intersection. Tony had thought this would be a walk in the park with his and Peter's suits, but that had been thrown out the window when the teen would not stop talking. The kid had almost gotten hit by a Chitauri blast, and the side of his suit had been blackened as a result. Even worse, he kept egging on his assailant, causing Tony to have a minor stroke when Peter swung around saying, "Hey, Crow Face! Is that all you've got? I expected a little more out of you. Honestly, this is-this is a little disappointing." That being said, Tony had had to grab him by the foot and yank him out of the way of yet another blast.

God, would it be so bad for Peter not to talk during a fight? Normally, Tony wouldn't have minded the kid's chatter, but lately him and the kid had grown closer. Tony worried about him during fights even more so than before, if that was possible. Tony found himself actually caring about this Spiderling. Peter had been coming over to work on suits, homework, making sentient machines ("Tony, why would we need a living stereo?" "Why not?" "It only plays old rock bands." "Come on! That's the best part, you know you love it.") and even staying over for dinner. Tony figured out Peter's nervous habits, like the balled sleeves and hunched shoulders, and the way he would play with the fabric on the bottom on his shirt. He hated to see these because it meant that Peter wasn't okay, and Tony always wanted Peter to be alright. It killed him to see that Peter was trying not to cry, even though the kid tried to hide it. Tony hated sounding like his father, even remotely, but he couldn't stop when he was started.

"I-I'm really, really sorry, Mr. Stark. I-I won't talk n-next time, I-I swear." Peter's breath hitched as he tried to push the words out of his mouth. Peter didn't want to disappoint Mr. Stark, he was like a dad to him. After having lost so many already, the thought of Mr. Stark deciding Peter wasn't good enough, finally giving up and walking away was what had truly made his eyes well up.

"You almost died, Peter. Do you understand? You almost died. Do you have any idea what that would have done to me?" Tony spoke in a glowering, monotonous tone. It was then that Peter took notice of the shadow growing on the floor, behind Tony. He lifted his eyes. "If you think I already have enough anxiety, PTSD - god knows what else - get ready for the whole new level of hell you'd be entering." Peter saw the shadow take a more clear form of a person. A person with...was that a gun? Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. Tony must have taken his widening eyes as a sign of concern over his newly threatened hell, because he kept going.

"You can bet your spandex, red and blue behind that I would have you on a leash. Yeah, you know one of those ones that-"

"Mr. Stark-" Peter unsuccessfully interrupted. Suddenly the figure came closer to the light. Oh, shit. It was Crow Face.

"Parents have for their toddlers?"

"Tony-" Peter tried again. Shit, shit, Crow Face was taking aim at Mr. Stark. He could see the little red dot of a guiding laser making its way closer to Tony. He couldn't let Crow Face pull the trigger. Peter had gotten so close to Tony, closer than he ever imagined. Peter had another father figure in his life again. Tony actually let him hang out with him in the lab - which was so cool, everything was all explodey and Dum-E kept pulling the extinguisher on Tony, which made him laugh until Tony pulled him in a bear hug and covered him in the spray as well. "It's not a hug, I was just getting revenge."

Peter watched with adrenaline-filled veins as he saw Crow Face grin viciously. In a split second, Peter made a decision.

"Yeah, hey FRIDAY? Make a note of that. We'll call it the Spider-Baby Walk Of Shame or something-" Tony had no idea about the gun, but thanks to his enhanced abilities, Peter could hear every millimetre the trigger moved.

"DAD, LOOK OUT!" Peter yelled, as he pushed Tony out of the way of the oncoming bullet. Unfortunately, Peter didn't move fast enough to get out of the way as well. Tony fell to the floor with a surprised shout as Peter felt the bullet enter his gut. He simultaneously gasped and let out a grunt of pain as he slammed against the counter with the force of it. Peter's right hand came to his gut instinctively as he pushed himself off with the other, landing in front of Tony, right in the way of a second bullet.

Tony recovered quickly after he heard the crackling kick of the gun. He lay dazed for a split second, but it proved to be a crucial one as he realized with horror that Peter had taken the blow of the second sound. Without another moment to waste, Tony called to his suit. As one of the pieces came flying, a third bullet ricocheted off the gold plating. Tony was pleased to hear a grunt come from where Peter was not. As soon as one of his repulsors was locked onto his hand, he fired at the villain who had dared to hurt Peter, until he was satisfied he would never hurt a single person again. Tony stood there panting heavily for a minute, waiting to see if the low life would move. Peter's hitched breath behind him lurched Tony into action.

"Oh, god." Tony mustered, turning around and blinking in shock at the red stains that were already growing on Peter's hoodie.

"M-Mr. Star-Stark." Peter stammered, choking around the blood in his mouth that was a mix of something very wrong internally and his bit cheek. Peter's body convulsed. His healing was going into overdrive as it tried to fix him. Tony knelt beside him, running his hands over his son's shoulders, trying to keep him as still as possible.

"You're okay, you're okay." Tony repeated in the most soothing voice he could muster. His hands were shaking over Peter's rapidly bleeding wounds, trying to staunch the flow. Peter whimpered, trying to curl away from him as he tried to move away from the pain.

"FRIDAY, GET MY MED TEAM UP HERE NOW!" Tony shouted in a panic. "Oh god, oh god, Peter, I'm so sorry Peter. I'm so sorry." Tony said like a mantra. Peter stopped moving much once he felt Tony's hand comfortingly smooth his hair back. Once his body stopped moving, however, it seemed the rest of him slowed down, too. Peter was bleeding out far too fast, there must have been something burst or severed for him to be bleeding this bad. Tony's terror grew as Peter's lips started moving, but didn't make a sound. He leaned closer.

"I'm sorry, T-Tony. I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry." Peter whispered. His mind was stuck on the last time he messed up and got his suit taken away. He didn't want to lose his suit. He didn't want to lose Tony. He kept seeing the angry, disappointed look on Mr. Stark's face. Peter's face itself had turned white as a sheet, his vision blurred. "M-Mr. Stark? Wh-where…"

"I'm right here, kiddo. Right here." Tony grasped Peter's hand in his own and squeezed. "I'm not leaving. I'm right here."

Peter's face relaxed as he heard his dad's voice nearby. Whether merciful or merciless, Peter could no longer feel most of his body, which in the back of his mind he noted as shock. Vaguely, he figured he might not make it out of this one. He could feel the bullets deep inside of him, one near his ribs and the other by his hip, pinching and piercing his body.

"Kid, keep your eyes open." Tony said. Huh, Peter hadn't even known his eyes had closed. Now that he noticed, though, they felt about a million tons heavier. With a great struggle, he cracked one open, then the other.

"Oh, thank god. That's it, kid. Help's almost here. You're going to be okay. Just keep your eyes open," Tony said as an order, but his voice sounded as if he was pleading with Peter, instead. Meanwhile, Peter's mind replayed his favourite moments with Tony. It was peaceful. As he lay in Tony's lap with him desperately keeping pressure on Peter's wounds, Peter remembered how he felt when he first met Tony, fought with him on the mission and how he made him sit out when it got too dangerous. When he got the suit back and an invitation to the Avengers. When Bruce pretended to be frustrated about the sentient stereo and other various creatures that he and Tony made together. All of these were great, amazing memories of his life as Spider-man, but one that stuck with him was when he thought Tony was going in for a hug in the car. He kept replaying how nice, safe, and warm it felt, even though it wasn't an actual hug. Suddenly, it's the only thing he can think about.

Peter's not stupid. He knows he's not going to make it, not at this rate. His last wish, last request. Peter is giving up. He just wants to relive this memory with the time he has left, and the man who has filled the role of his father-figure, though he didn't have to.

"D-dad?" Peter says weakly, squeezing Tony's hand with the small amount of strength he has left.

"Yeah, kiddo?" Tony's heart hurts at the name of Dad, the person he never truly got to be for this kid. What was he doing instead? Yelling at him, over some stupid comment that truly, was kind of funny. Peter's wit was sharp enough to rival his own. Tony felt awful. He wished he was the one with two holes in him instead of his kid. Peter was a good person, stood up for the innocent and weak and got injured for doing a good job.

"Ca-can I have one l-last hug? Please?" Peter croaked. Tony's heart broke. He could feel tears sliding down his face. At Peter's last request, Tony knew Peter thought he wasn't going to make it. Of course, he could do this one last thing. Without a word, Tony wrapped his arms around the kid. He could feel Tony shaking with the force of his sobs as his hand ran through Peter's hair.

"I love you, kid. You're the best son I could ever ask for." Tony said as strongly as he could. Tony suddenly heard the sound of footsteps, meaning his med team was on their floor.

"HERE! WE'RE OVER HERE!" Tony yelled as he cradled Peter's head gently in his embrace. "It's okay, Peter! They're here, they're here. You're going to be okay." Full of newfound hope, Tony maneuvered Peter in his arms so he could see his face.

Peter's eyes were closed.

Tony shattered.

"Peter...Peter? No, you can't...you can't be...Peter. Kid?" Tears splashed down Tony's face until he couldn't see, couldn't breathe, "Wake up. This isn't funny. Wake up. Peter! Wake up! Please! Wake up!" Tony tried gently shaking his shoulders, but Peter wasn't moving. This was all his fault. If he hadn't been yelling at Peter in the first place, he would have noticed the shooter. He could have saved him. God, this was his kid. This was Peter.

Tony didn't notice when the med team had run in a few moments after. He was frozen, locked in a world of despair and grief and guilt that was too familiar to him. He only briefly arose when the med team tried to take Peter out of his arms. Tony clawed at the people trying to take his son away before he realized they were trying to help. As he watched them cart Peter away, he felt like there was an invisible rope connecting him to Peter. He jumped up and ran after them. He needed to be there for Peter, his kid deserved that. He's sacrificed himself for Tony, twice, without a second thought. God, Peter.

The team forced him to sit out in the waiting room of the med wing as they performed surgery on his kid. Awful, horrified, terrified, they weren't strong enough descriptions for how he felt. When Peter had been calling his name, if he'd just shut up for one moment he would have noticed the raw terror in Peter's eyes, or how they were shifting behind him to subtly warn him. Now he may never see Peter's eyes again, because Tony hadn't noticed, and the kid took matters into his own hands. He protected Tony when Tony should have been protecting him. Tony only wishes Peter will make it. He wishes it with all he has in him, until he feels like he's going to pass out. Then he prays. Tony has never been very fond of God unless he's cursing him, but he prays now. Tony falls asleep in the hard-plastic chair of the waiting room, looking at the small picture in his wallet of him and Peter laughing, too aware that it could be the last time.

It had been days of Peter lying in the hospital bed. The only thing that was moving was his chest because of the machines breathing for him. Tony sat in his uncomfortable chair and reached for his son's hand, squeezing gently three times. He wasn't surprised when he got no reply, though his heart still weighed heavily when he didn't. He sighed and leaned his head down on the bed beside Peter's arm, where he'd created a head-shaped indent in the crummy mattress.

Tony was used to getting no sleep. He'd done it his entire life, going on seventy-two hour benders at a time, surviving off three hours of sleep and coffee. The only time Tony was truly thankful for his insomnia was when he felt Peter's fingers twitch. It was so light that if he was asleep, he wouldn't have noticed. Tony looked up in hope and fear, praying to see the kid's eyes open. After a full three minutes of watching over him, Tony rested his head down yet again and opened his mouth to speak quietly.

"I...Kid, I need you in my life. You make me a better person. You're the best son I could ever have. You-you can't be gone. I promise, I'll give you all the hugs in the world. Just come back, Peter. Please." Tony felt tears pricking his eyes and landing on Peter's forearm before he could stop it. Tony was stuck. Mentally and physically. He was stuck thinking the same things over and over, you should have been there to protect him. It's your fault he's here. It should have been you lying in that hospital bed, not Peter. God, Peter. I'm so sorry.

However, Tony was also stuck physically. As in, stuck to Peter. He couldn't move his head. Suddenly, he felt a very light and delicate spider hand on the back of his head. He turned to the side slightly.

"Peter?" Tony said with an ounce of hope. Peter cracked open his left eye and stared lazily over at his dad.

"D-da-ad-" Peter whispered, finding himself unable to speak properly. Tony shushed him gently, running his arm along his kid's shoulder.

"Shhh, it's okay Pete. You're safe, you just haven't spoken for a while, it'll come back. You're in the med bay of the tower. Do you remember at all what happened?" Tony rushed to assure Peter as he saw the familiar panic rising inside of him. Peter nodded weakly.

"Good, I really didn't feel like explaining it all. You uh, feel okay? Any pain?" Tony tried to mask his worry behind his sarcasm, although even only with one eye open, Peter could see right through it. He shook his head, cringing when he felt a twinge and his neck get hot.

"S-sorry, jus-just a c-crick." Peter managed out slowly. Tony laughed, but it sounded more like a sob.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, kid. That's my job. I should have protected you, it should be me lying there. Not you. You just...you lost so much blood, Peter. The amount of donor bags that you needed…" Tony drifted off, feeling his throat closing up as another cry tried to force its way out. There had been enough crying the past few days for everybody. Not that Tony would admit that, of course. He was just sweating a lot. From his eyes.

Peter grabbed Tony's hand from where it lay digging into his palm. He squeezed it three times.

"Kid, don't do that again. Don't risk your life for me, I'm not worth that. You worried me to death, Peter." Tony's tone turned serious as he looked his kid in the eyes.

"I love you too, Dad." Tony leaned down on the bed to hug him. He smiled softly as Peter burrowed his face into Tony's shoulder. Tony smoothed Peter's hair back with one hand and lightly kissed him on the top of his head, both pretending they didn't feel the tears coming out of his eyes.

"Maybe my Spanish class is a metaphor for life." Peter implored as he frustratedly did his homework in the hospital bed.

"A slow decline?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"No, I mean it was easy and kind of simple at the start, then it gets more difficult in the middle and when you think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, then life throws you back one last time."

"Geez, kid. Either we need to get you off the painkillers or get you more." Tony said with a snort of laughter.

"No, but like, I-I don't know. Nevermind," Peter said, hanging his head slightly.

"Nah kid, I get it. You just sound so philosophical it's hard to take you seriously." Tony worked to control his laughter and forced himself to contain his grin.

"It's hard to take you seriously most days, too." Peter said slyly.

"Oof, thanks kid. Keeping me humble." Tony clasped Peter's shoulder and promptly failed his earlier resolve not to laugh. This was the happiest the pair had been since the incident, and it would be a lie if Tony said he didn't go back through the security tape more than once to take a picture of it to go with the other in his wallet.