A/N: Heyo amazing readers!:) This is the first story in a series called "Peter Whump Dump" So I hope you enjoy!:D
Dedicated to Wordscorrupt on AO3.
Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.
Do we need to go over the rules again?"
Peter groans, tucking his face into the creases created by his arms, the counter top cool against his forehead. His Dad stands over him, his own arms crossed over his chest, and a serious expression making deep lines appear around his eyes. Taking a peak out from under his homemade cave, the 12 year old tries his hardest not to roll his eyes at the annoyed glare Tony is sending his way.
"Well?" The genius asks again, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waits for an answer.
Peter just shrugs, his eyes lowering in submission when his father sighs, the chair next to him squeaking as the elder Stark sits down. The gentle hand that settles on his back startles the boy, and he lets out a sort of gasp, the sound ending in a high pitched giggle when his father digs his fingers into his side.
"O-okay, okay! I might need to h-hear the rules ag-again!" Peter says in between his laughter, trying unsuccessfully to push his Dad's hands away from his stomach.
Tony just chuckles, continuing to torture the boy for a few more seconds, grabbing his arm when he begins to slip off the seat from his laughter. Smoothing down the now tousled brown locks, the genius smiles gently when his boy leans into his touch, his cheeks red from his laughter and his beautiful dark eyes shining.
"Well, since you asked so nicely." The Billionaire says, face becoming serious as he grips Peter's shoulders, making sure that the tween is listening. "The Lab can be very dangerous if you don't know what you are doing. When we are in there, Peter, I need you to listen to everything I say and don't touch anything I tell you not to touch, do you understand kiddie?"
The young Stark nods, reaching out and gripping Tony's red shirt in one hand, his fingers curling around the sleeve.
"I know, Dad. You're told me this a million times." Peter says, hopping down from the seat with a muffled thump, his sneaker clad feet slapping the wooden floor.
Tony frowns, his grip on his child tightening as he forces the energetic boy still, his brows drawing together and the lines around his mouth deepening. The 12 year old's grip around his shirt hasn't loosened, and the elder Stark can tell that no matter what his child says, he is nervous about messing up. Straightening to his full (admissibly not tall) height, the Billionaire stares down seriously at his son, watching as the boy lowers his eyes.
"It doesn't matter if I've said it one time or a million times, the meaning is still the same. While we are in the Lab, you need to be careful and watch what you are doing at all times, okay?"
Finally, Peter just answers with a soft "Yes, sir." Reaching down, Tony kisses the child's forehead, turning them around so that they are facing the elevator and leads them inside, his arm wrapped around his son's thin shoulders.
Friday doesn't wait for a command, the small room moving downwards toward Tony's personal Lab with no order by the genius himself. Shifting his grip on Peter, Tony tries to squish the small part of his mind screaming at him that this is a bad idea, instead choosing to watch as his boy's eyes begin to light up the closer they get to the workshop.
The second they stop, Peter is racing out of the elevator and down the hall, his excited chatter becoming softer the farther away he gets. Shaking his head at his baby's enthusiasm, Tony follows at a slower pace, knowing that Peter can't get into the Lab by himself no matter how many times he begs Friday. His son, when the Billionaire round the corner, is bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands fidgeting with his deemed 'work shirt' and his eyes impatient as he watches his father walk toward him.
Quickly giving a nod at one of the cameras lining the ceiling, Tony lets out a breath when the doors slide open, enjoying the smells of motor oil and electricity that always seems to fill up the Lab. Placing a guiding and restraining hand against Peter's back, the father leads him over to a small work table, the lamp flickering on as they get closer. The metal surface glistens in the yellow light, an assortment of 'child safe' tools and lab equipment spread across its smooth surface.
Peter doesn't think he has seen anything quite as beautiful.
Looking with his mouth gasping, the young boy flickers his eyes over every tool and beaker laying before him, feeling excitement fizzle in his veins. Throwing his arms around his Dad, the tween squeezes tightly, burying his face in the man's chest.
"Thank you thank you thank you!" He says against Tony's shirt, his voice slightly muffled from the fabric. "This is the best day ever!"
Smiling at the boy, the genius wraps his arms around his son and holds him close, brushing his lips against the top of his child's head. Finally, Peter breaks away, pushing his own Lab chair away from his very own desk, and sitting down. He looks over all the items spread out, seeming to think something over before he reaches for a screwdriver, setting that to the side and opening the planning paper.
"What are you going to build first?" Tony asks quietly, pride evident in his eyes as he watches his boy begin to work.
Peter sticks the pencil in his mouth, speaking out of the side as he flips through the book, opening it to the first blank page and beginning to write a series of numbers. "I was think of maybe a small robot, like Dummy, but one that can fit in the palm of your hand."
He seems hesitant, and when his eyes flicker up to meet his father's, he lets out a small sigh of relief at the approval he sees, his cheeks dusting red as his Dad grins widely, looking down at him with love and pride mixing in his dark eyes. Gently hugging the 12 year old against his side, the elder Stark reluctantly backs to his own Station a few feet away, already going over the renovations needed for his Suit and getting the materials out of various compartments.
They both tinker in relative silence, the soft bass of music coming from the speakers quiet enough to not disrupt the minds at work. As they work, Peter can feel his Dad's eyes on him every few minutes, the Billionaire seeming to check on him every time he moves. It is both annoying and comforting and the tween lets himself get lost in the numbers and endless tweeting that it takes to build something, his father's protective gaze easing some unknown fear.
"Boss, Ms. Potts is requesting your service up in the meeting room."
Friday's voice startles the boy and he nearly drops the circuit board, his yelp of surprise echoing off the walls. Shaking his head in embarrassment, Peter looks over at Tony just as the man stops working, blinking to wet his suddenly dry eyes. With a frown on his face, his Dad leans over to look him up and down, the worry that clouded his eyes easing up when he sees that his boy was not hurt. Rubbing one dirty hand down his face, the inventor gives a soft huff of frustration, seeming to debate something internally before he lifts his gaze up to the ceiling.
"Can't she wait for a few more minutes?" He half asks, half whines, smirking behind his hand when he hears Peter giggle at his tone.
"I'm afraid not sir. These were her exact words: 'If Tony doesn't get his ass down here in the next 5 minuets, then I will personally make sure that all the coffee makes in the Tower are mysteriously broken for the next week.' I would hurry if I were you, Boss, by my calculations you have exactly 3 minuets and 24 seconds left. . . 23 seconds. . . 22 seconds. . . 21 secon-"
"Alright alright, I'm going! Cut the crap, Fri, I don't need you to carry out a launch count down." The elder Stark says, rolling his eyes so hard Peter is surprised they don't fall out of his head.
Shaking himself, Tony walks quickly over to his son, kneeling down so that he is at eye level with the boy. Gently cupping Peter's face in his hand, the genius catches his child's eyes, smoothing down his soft hair with his free hand.
"I have to go see what Pepper needs, Pete. Can I trust you to stay here and not touch anything?"
Peter nods quickly, his face so trusting and open that Tony feels his heart melt. Clearing his throat, the superhero presses his lips against his boy's temple, trying to ignore the anxiety clenching at his gut at the thought of leaving his child here, knowing that he needs to trust Peter not to do anything stupid.
"If you need me, sweetheart, just call for Friday and she will notify me as soon as you ask. Just please, please stay here and don't touch anything that isn't specificity on your table. Do not continue working while I'm not here! I will be back in a few minutes."
Peter nods against his chest, his fingers trembling as he hugs his father back. With one last glance at his boy sitting at the desk, Tony walks briskly out, waving his hand in exaggeration when Friday informs him that he has 2 minuets left. His curse is cut off short when the doors to the Lab slip close.
Peter goes back to his paper, the numbers suddenly lining up and making him let out a small whoop of triumph. Throwing his pencil onto the table, the tween begins to piece together the beginnings of his robot, his fingers flying across the metal and his mind spinning with ideas. With excited huffs, Peter gets the outside completed, the safety goggles his father made him wear becoming hot and itchy against his face. Slipping the offending rubber from around his face, the young Stark sets the protective gear to the side as he leans down close to the wires, squinting as he tries unsuccessfully to attach them, the electricity crackling and turning the air thick.
He barely has time to blink before the metal explodes in his face.
The heat burns across his skin, small bits of metal and rubber flying up and hitting his unprotected eyes. Letting out a shriek of pain and terror, the young boy begins to frantically rub at his now burning eyes, tears blurring his vision and slipping past his clenched shut eye lids. The pain of the salt on his red face make him sob and he slips from his seat, his fingers scratching and rubbing against his eyes. His whole face is burning like the worst sunburn, and Peter knows that it probably looks worse. Curling up, the young Stark shivers as the cool Lab floor settles into his bones, sobs forcing themselves past his chapped and bleeding lips and his throat burning as he continues to inhale the smoke now filling the room.
Feeling his growing panic rise higher, Peter swallows down the bile rising up when he feels his skin begin to peel around his eyes as he scratches, blood wheeling up and dotting the lacerations from the particularly deep marks. His breath comes in pants, the sound hitching as his cries stick to his dry mouth, his stinging eyes getting pressed by his shaking hands as the pain begins to become unbearable.
Ignore the small voice at the back of his mind screaming at him not to ask like a little baby, Peter finally gives into the panic, his mouth opening and a high pitched scream escaping. His throat burns from the abuse, but he doesn't care.
Once he started, he can't seem to stop.
Pain filled after pain filled scream echoes through the large room, his cries having reached an almost animalistic level as he hears Friday inform him that his Dad is on his way. Curling up tighter, Peter continues to shriek, the sound sounding half crazy even to his own ears. He is still digging at his eyes, his nails now filled with his dead skin and blood from the scratches lining his burnt face.
He finally forces his watering eyes half open just as his father slams the Lab doors open, the glass cracking at the force. The scream that was building in his throat dies out as his Dad wraps his arms around him, his voice soothing and slightly thick as he presses kisses repeatedly against his head and face.
"Oh god, Peter. You're okay, baby, you're okay! Shhh, I'm here, shhhh. . ."
Peter begins to babble apologizes, his voice a croak against his father's chest as the man lifts his child into his lap, not caring about the blood and spit now staining his shirt. Vaguely, the young Stark hears his Daddy call for his Uncle Bruce, the man's tone desperate as his eyes begin to water again. Curling his fingers weakly around the Billionaire's shirt, the tween lets out a tiny whimper as he is suddenly lifted, the movement making his whole body jerk. Stifling his groan of agony against Tony's chest, Peter tries in vain to focus on the brilliant glow of the Arc Reactor under his cheek, his father wrapping his arms tighter around him as he shakes.
The next few hours are the longest of Peter's life.
When his Uncle arrived, he was barely conscious, the whole trauma of the situation making the boy feel sleepy and sick. His had struggled slightly when he was taken from his Daddy, the soft sheets of a cot replacing the protective hold the man had had on him and he nearly screamed again at the loss. His Uncle Bruce said something to him, his tone muffled almost like he was underwater, the sensation only getting worse as a sharp prick in Peter's left arm made him jump.
"I'm sorry, Peter, but we have to do this." His Uncle says somewhere above him, the light from his flashlight causing a shooting pain through the 12 year old's head.
They had rinsed his eyes out then, he father gently but forcefully holding his head up and his eyes open even as he struggled. His pleads and sobs of pain flew from his mouth, his sentences running together and becoming gargled in his terror. Faintly, the tween could feel something wet hitting his head, and when he finally has the opportunity to look up at the source, he is surprised to see his Dad with tears streaming down his face. Reaching up, Peter tries in vain to give the man a comforting hug, Tony quickly grabbing his outstretched hand and bringing it up to his cheek, the salt from his tears sliding onto the raw skin around Peter's nails.
Peter feels himself slip into the darkness calling to him just as his Dad lets his face break for the first time that day.
When he wakes up a few hours later, he is surprised that his eyes are completely cleared.
Blinking rapidly against the light flooding into his room, Peter tries to sit up, his sheets ruffling against his skin and making it tingle. Feeling his head begin to swim, the young Stark brings one hand up to rub at the bandages wrapped around his forehead, the cotton soft. Looking around the room, the tween nearly jumps a foot in the air when he sees his Dad asleep in a chair about a foot away, his mouth opening in a silent snore.
Reaching out with a shaking hand, Peter barely has his fingers on the man's shoulder when Tony jumps up, his dark eyes widening when he sees that his child is awake.
"Peter. . ." The genius chokes out, his voice sound raw with an emotion Peter can't place.
Leaning forward, Tony wraps his arms around his boy, sitting down in the bed and taking a few deep breathes. Peter just buries himself further against the man, not knowing he needed the comfort until he begins to blink back tears. Sniffling, the young Stark let out a soft wounded noise when his Dad pulls away after a minute, flinching as anger finally begins to build in the man's eyes.
His hands are gentle, however, when he cups his son's trembling chin, and he swipes his thumbs across the red cheeks, catching the tears now falling. The boy leans into the touch, closing his eyes and just sighs.
"What happened?" Tony voice is so quiet that for a second Peter thinks he imagines it, but when the man gives him a tiny shake, the boy knows that he expects an answer.
"I-I don't k-know!" Swallowing, the 12 year old curls his raw fingers tighter around his father's waist as he fights down the sobs. "One second, I-I was trying to con-connect these wires together and the next—"
He voice cracks and he can't continue, his shoulders shaking. His Dad doesn't speak, just continues to rock them back and forth as he rubs soothing circles across his baby's back. When he sees that Peter has calmed down, he begins.
"What you did was dangerous," Holding up one hand when his son opens his mouth to protest, the Billionaire continues, his tone a cross between comforting and stern. "I know that you didn't mean to get hurt, God of course I know that, but that doesn't change the fact that you disobeyed me. You could have gone blind, Peter!"
The young boy shivers at the thought, his grip on his father tightening as a whimper slips past his lips. Tony sighs, his lips pressing against his child's hair as he holds him even closer. They don't speak for a while, the only sound being their combined breathing and the occasional hum as his Dad tries to comfort him.
"I'm sorry." He suddenly whispers, breaking the silence.
His Dad lets out a little sigh, his chest expanding against Peter cheek and making the boy feel weirdly protected. Nuzzling himself closer, the young Stark feels all of the tension that he had locked inside of him melt out at Tony's next words.
"I'm just glad that you are safe."
Feeling content, Peter lets his eyes slip shut, his whole weight being supported by his father as the man settles more comfortably against the wooden headboard. He is almost asleep again when his Dad speaks, his voice a deep vibration against his son's cheek.
"But you are not allowed in the Lab for 3 months."
Damn it.
A/N: Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!:)