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Awake and Alive

Peter felt strange. Really strange. One moment he was miserable and hot and maybe throwing up...he had a memory of throwing up blood at one point, which was terrifying and not something he ever wanted to do again, and the next he was staring at the ceiling, feeling just fine. Better than fine. Better than he'd ever felt in his life. Well...tired. He was really tired. Tired, but fine. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling in wonder, eyes suddenly zeroed in on every crack and imperfection. He hadn't been wearing his contact lenses...he knew because if he woke up in his contacts, his eyes were always dry and gritty...he must have taken them out. But he could see just fine!

He wasn't in his bedroom...the ceiling was too high. Plus he could hear a constant beeping and something was poking him in the arm and there were footsteps somewhere and someone breathing and another person snoring...the beeping got faster then, and he wondered why. He was in the Medbay...at the tower. But why? He vaguely remembered being sick, but sick enough for his dad to take him to the Medbay? This was the room for when the Avengers were hurt. Why hadn't his dad taken him to the doctor? Or had he? He remembered a different room, but not very well. Mostly just his dad being there...or yelling for his dad. Something about his dad.

The man in question was at his side, slumped over in a chair asleep, head resting on the wall beside him. His breaths were long and even, but Peter knew that that position couldn't have been comfortable. He thought about waking him, but he had no idea what time it was...it was dark outside. On his other side was Steve, head on his chest, arms crossed as he, too, slumped back in his chair. He didn't know who was approaching, but his dad and Steve were right next to him, and they'd protect him. He never had to be afraid when they were with him.

Bringing up a hand and flinching when it pulled at a needle in his arm, he found an oxygen mask pressed against his mouth. Starting to pull it off, he paused when the stranger appeared in the room, making his heart rate spike. It was dark in the big room. Too dark for him to see. But he could, somehow! He could see the man's face, every hair on his head and the goatee that look kind of like his dad's...he could see his wrinkled blue scrubs and the scars on his hands and the way they shook...his heart rate was getting fast again. He shouldn't be able to see all that. It was too much...the beeping and the humming of the equipment and the doctor's heartbeat and the heartbeats of his father and Steve...

"Hello, Peter." The man murmured, coming to stand at the end of his bed. "My name is Doctor Stephen Strange. How are you feeling?"

"I'm...um...what…" He looked around the Medbay once more, finding no clues as to what could be happening as he struggled to focus. "I'm sorry...Doctor Strange? What happened?" He asked, fogging up the mask as he spoke, words muffled.

"You were bitten by a radioactive spider which triggered a mutation in your genes. Your fever began rising yesterday and continued to rise until about an hour ago." The man spoke in a no-nonsense tone, arms crossed.

Radioactive spider? Mutation? He didn't like any of those words but was too tired to try and make sense of it. He felt okay...so maybe he was fine?

"What time is it?"

"It is nearly three in the morning. Your field trip was yesterday." He paused, leaning in a little. "How are you feeling?" The doctor repeated.

"Fine...I feel a lot better." He admitted, starting to sit up, but the Doctor held out a hand. Obeying for the moment, he rested against the pillows stacked behind him, then tapped the mask. "Can I take this off?"

"Yes." The doctor stepped around Peter's dad and helped him remove the mask, then disconnected a couple of the tubes in Peter's arm. "I'd like to draw some blood and run some tests...I know this is a lot to take in, but for the moment, you should try and get some more sleep. Are you in any pain?"

"No...I feel fine. I'm just tired." He glanced over at his dad. "Is my dad okay?"

"Yes. He was very worried about you, but he finally fell asleep a few hours ago. Would you like to wake him?"

Peter shook his head. The man was probably exhausted. "No...um...that's okay. Let him sleep. He had a meeting in DC yesterday and...I don't remember coming here..."

"That's alright. You had a very high fever, so it's not uncommon for you to have trouble remembering. Go ahead and get some rest. I'm going to draw some blood, and then I'll let you sleep." Peter nodded, closing his eyes and leaning against the pillow while Doctor Strange removed some of the needles, then drew blood. He didn't feel sick anymore, but he remembered bits and pieces. Pain. His head throbbing. Someone holding him down. Screaming...he remembered screaming. And someone holding his hand. It must have been his dad...his dad wouldn't have left him if he was sick.

He flinched when the needle was slipped into his arm, fighting the urge to pull away. He hated needles. Back when he was little, he'd scream and cry and his father would hold him every time. Even during the first couple of years, his dad had been there for shots. He remembered being held on the sofa, sobbing into his dad's shoulder, and his father's hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. He remembered being torn between his absolute terror of needles and his love for being held by his usually distant father. And he remembered the latter winning out every time.

He still hated needles, but he was too big to act like a baby over it, so he was quiet when Dr. Strange drew blood, then let his eyes close. He was feeling a lot better, but he was still oddly tired. So he snuggled into the pillow, sighing softly and before he knew it, someone was pushing his hair back, the light touch tickling his forehead. He scrunched up his nose, bringing up a tired hand and trying to brush it away only to have someone catch his hand.

"Pete? Hey, buddy. You awake?" That was his dad. Something had happened...his dad was tired or upset or something. The man sounded upset, anyway, but Peter couldn't remember why. He forced his eyes open, blinking and meeting his father's bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes.

"Dad? Are you okay?" He asked, rubbing his eyes weakly, and his father gave an incredulous laugh.

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm okay." He reached up a hand, rubbing his eyes, and Peter realized he was crying. Fully awake, he tried to sit up, but his father kept a firm hand on his shoulder. To Peter's surprise, he barely felt it. His dad was pretty strong, considering he was Iron Man and he worked out with other superheroes, and Peter wasn't exactly weak...he worked out with superheroes too, but this was different. He could have easily sat up anyway...his dad's hand was light. Barely there. But he didn't fight...just let the man ease him back onto the bed. "Stay still for a second, buddy. Let the doctors look at you." His dad's voice was choked...weak and afraid and hopeful.

Dr. Strange and Dr. Cho appeared then, and Peter looked from them to his dad, confused and afraid. "Peter, do you remember what happened?" Dr. Strange asked. He shook his head.

"Not really...I was...I was at Oscorp and then I didn't feel good...then...this morning I woke up and you were here." He told the doctor, rubbing his eyes again. Dr. Strange nodded, he and Dr. Cho exchanging glances, and Peter turned to his dad. "What's going on? What happened?" He asked, voice hitching. The man, who looked like he'd spent the last 24 hours in the chair by Peter's bed, took the boy's hand. Peter let him, freaked out enough that he didn't mind his dad babying him.

"You were bitten by one of the spiders at Oscorp." His dad told him, thumb rubbing over the back of Peter's hand. "One of the radioactive spiders." He nodded...he vaguely remembered that. "They were studying gene mutation and...the bite triggered a mutation."

"A...a mutation?" Peter asked, his voice breaking a little. He sort of remembered the doctor mentioning that, but suddenly he remembered Brice and get a shiver go down his spine. "Am...am I...a mutant now? Am I a spider? Am I going to grow extra legs or something? Oh god...am I going to eat flies!?" He could tell his dad was trying to hold back a laugh, but at the last question, he couldn't contain a snort. He didn't sound all that amused though...more hysterical, a hand brushing over Peter's hair again.

"No, buddy. You aren't going to turn into a spider." He murmured, his hand still running through Peter's hair.

The look on his father's face was broken...hysterical and afraid, more so than Peter had ever seen him, and a thought occurred to him. "Dad...did I...did you think I was going to die?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper and his dad sobered immediately. He seemed to gather himself, squeezing Peter's hand more tightly.

"Your fever was really high for a while. You scared the hell out of me." He murmured, leaning closer and resting a hand on his forehead as if to check for a fever, then moved the hand to Peter's shoulder.

"I'm okay…" He looked around the room again, flinching at the bright fluorescent lights over his bed. Everything was so...bright. Sharp.

"What's wrong?" His dad asked immediately, never one to miss anything. Well...not anymore.

For the first few years living with his father, the man had rarely been around and even when he was, he was always preoccupied. The man would come home late, smelling like alcohol and sometimes Peter would get a pat on the head or a quick hug before he'd disappear back down into his lab where Peter had never been allowed to go. Peter had asked plenty of times, but JARVIS had always said it was too dangerous. Often, the AI would play music for him, or the two would play I Spy in his bedroom when Peter couldn't sleep. It was like having a real friend in the house. Of course, he had Shannon, and she'd been great, but she'd been his nanny. Not his father.

Peter had lived for those days when his father would come home and hug him. Once, after he'd returned from Afghanistan, he'd taken Peter out to ice cream. He'd asked Peter about school. Smiled and ruffled his hair and when they'd gotten home, he'd even sat with him at the table and together they'd read a book. Put a puzzle together. That night, Tony had put him to bed, tucking him in and kissing his forehead.

The next morning, JARVIS had informed him that his father was on another business trip. Five days later, he'd been back to normal. Then, more distant than normal. His father had come home from a trip a few weeks later looking kind of sick. Upset. He hadn't even hugged Peter then, just asking Shannon to take him out somewhere. And it had been weeks before he'd actually see his father again. Weeks of crying himself to sleep, heart aching as he tried again and again to figure out what he'd done...how he'd managed to drive his father away after one day together.

Uncle Rhodey had come over one night while his father had been having a party. A loud party...the music had reached his room where he'd been curled up in bed, blankets over his head. Finally, when he'd heard shouting and rumbling from downstairs, he'd snuck out of his room, peering downstairs from the top of the stairs and watching in horror as his father and Uncle Rhodey had fought, their suits destroying their house.

When Uncle Rhodey had finally left and his father had glanced up at him, Peter had hoped and prayed that the man would come up...would pick him up and hold him and tell him that it was going to be okay. Instead, his dad had dropped his head, chin hitting his chest. "Jar, get Shannon to put Peter back to bed."

His dad had come into his room a little while later...not too long after that night. After Auntie Nat had started coming around and something had happened with Auntie Pepper and Uncle Rhodey. Peter had been coloring, sitting cross-legged on the floor...he'd been eight years old. He remembered coloring with a new set of markers while Shannon made his dinner in the other room. He hadn't been thinking about his father. Hadn't been expecting him. But then the man had burst into his room, grabbing him under the arms and pulling him up, wrapping his arms around him and holding him.

He hadn't been scared. His father had never ever hurt him. Or even acted like he was going to hurt him. And the man had been laughing, so Peter had smiled, hugging his dad back and relishing the rare opportunity to be held by his father. And then the man had carried him down to his lab, sitting him on his lap and had begun pointing out different parts of the Iron Man armor. At first, Peter had been afraid...afraid his father would forget him again. Afraid that this would be like the time after his daddy had come home from being kidnapped and had hugged him so tight and promised he would be there and then he'd left...he'd gone on more business trips and drank more and Peter had been left with Shannon again.

But that hadn't been what had happened. The next day, his father had woken him up instead of Shannon and had eaten breakfast with him, asking about school and grinning and actually listening. Then he'd taken him downstairs to the lab again and climbed into the Iron Man armor, reaching out his arms and pulling Peter close. "I love you so much, Pete." His dad had murmured, and then the two had worked together all day. It had been like a dream!

The next day, his father had had to leave for a business trip, and Peter had been sure that it was all over...he'd been crying when his dad had come into his bedroom that morning, and the man had scooped him up into his arms, holding him close and pressing his cheek into Peter's hair.

"Hey, buddy...what's the matter?" At first, Peter had been too afraid to say it. Too afraid to say out loud how much he was going to miss his father...how it was going to hurt even more now that he'd been allowed in the lab and had been told how much he was loved. "Peter? Are you okay? Come on, bud...talk to me. What's wrong?"

"You're leaving." He'd finally cried, clutching his dad's shirt. The man had squeezed him tight, leaning against the headboard and pulling the blanket around them.

"It's just for a couple of days, kiddo."

"You're leaving." He'd repeated, and his dad had sighed softly.

"Why don't you come with me?" Peter had blinked, pulling away a little and looking up, meeting his dad's brown eyes with his own.

"Really?" He'd all but whispered, afraid to hope that it could possibly be true.

"Yeah, buddy. Really." His dad had smiled, ruffling his hair. Peter hadn't meant to say the next words, but they'd slipped out anyway.

"You never let me come with you." His dad had winced but had forced a smile.

"I know. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I should...I know I haven't..." He'd sighed, pulling Peter in again and resting his chin on his hair as he'd trailed off. "How about this? From now on, if I go on long trips, you come with me, okay? I promise."

It was a promise he'd kept until Peter had entered high school and had told his dad that he couldn't miss school that often, and his dad had agreed on the condition that they talked on the phone every night. It was an easy compromise.

"Peter, what's wrong?" His dad asked again, pulling him back to the present, his voice a little strained. His dad always noticed things now.

"Just bright." He muttered, not sure how else to explain it.

"I would like to run some tests." Dr. Strange stepped in, holding what must have been Peter's chart. "To see how the mutation is going to affect you. It seems your senses are heightened. Have you noticed anything else?"

"Uh...just...I think I might be stronger." Peter told him, feeling kind of dumb saying it, but neither man nor Doctor Cho seemed surprised.

"We'll test that." Doctor Strange assured him. "In the meantime, why don't we let you get changed and have something to eat." Both doctors nodded to them, withdrawing to another room, and Peter turned to his dad.

"Where's Steve? Wasn't he here this morning?"

"Yes. He just went upstairs about an hour ago. He wanted to let everyone know how you were feeling."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah, kiddo. The whole team's here." His dad smiled, carding his fingers through Peter's hair. Peter felt his face flush, staring down at his hands, and his dad ruffled his hair. He couldn't help noticing his dad's close proximity...how he kept holding his hand and touching his hair. He didn't mind...he was kind of freaked out. Apparently, he'd been really sick and he couldn't remember much of it. Just pain. Fighting. Yelling...and more pain. And being hot. Too hot. And having trouble breathing. He'd wanted his father more than anything...and his father had always been there. "Alright, buddy. You want to try and get up? Steve brought you a change of clothes. Then we can go upstairs and get you something to eat if you're feeling up to it. Or they can come down here...everyone's going to be happy to see you."

"Uh...okay. I think...I think I can get up." Peter nodded, taking the hand his dad offered and putting his feet on the ground. Unsure at first, he was surprised when he didn't feel unsteady at all. "You good?" His dad asked, and Peter nodded, standing upright.

"Yeah...I feel fine." He grinned, and before he could say anything else, his father was pulling him into a tight hug, a hand pressed tight against the back of his head. It felt like a long time passed...his father kept him close, breathing deeply...carefully. Then he heard his dad sniff, his breath catching, and, anxious to comfort him, Peter hugged him back just as tightly...right before his dad flinched.

"Uh, Pete...I can't breathe." Immediately, Peter dropped his arms, taking a step back, but his dad caught his arms, grinning. "You weren't kidding about being stronger, huh?" Now that he was sure that his dad was okay, he grinned back.

"Yeah...sorry." Hid dad chuckled, reaching down and grabbing a duffle bag.

"Don't worry Pete. Here. Think you can handle getting changed on your own?" Peter nodded, assuring him that he would be fine. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

Once Peter was changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, he wandered out of the room to find his dad leaning against the wall, phone in hand. He grinned when Peter appeared, reaching out and putting an arm around his shoulders, then leading him to the elevator after shoving the phone back in his pocket. "Pepper's on her way over from the airport."

"She doesn't have to come home." Petter hurried to assure him, wide-eyed. "I know she's busy...I'm fine!"

"Yeah, well, it wasn't looking too good there for a while, bud." That sobered him immediately. His dad had thought he was going to die…and he'd called everyone. To say goodbye.

"You can call her...tell her she doesn't have to come."

"She wants to see you, Pete." He didn't argue anymore...he missed Pepper. He knew she and his dad weren't on the best of terms, but both were trying, and he just hoped they'd get it figured out soon. They were supposed to go on a vacation together sometime soon...he hoped that was still on.

The elevator took them up to the penthouse, and then the doors were opening, revealing the entire team, minus Bruce and Thor of course. Steve was the first up, jaw-dropping as he looked Peter up and down, hurrying over to them and putting a bracing hand on Peter's shoulder. "Peter? Should you be out of bed?"

"Doctor Strange said he was fine to come up and get something to eat. Wanna let the kid sit down?" His dad asked, still grinning as he led Peter over to the kitchen counter, not removing the arm until Peter was sitting. And immediately the others were surrounding him, Natasha first. To his surprise, she put her arms around him and squeezed tight, the side of her cheek resting on his head. Not that she wasn't nice or anything...he'd always loved his Auntie Nat. But she wasn't always the most physically affectionate now that he was older.

When he'd been younger, she'd pulled him onto her lap plenty of times, arms warm and secure around him, and he'd always felt completely safe. Loved.

"Hi, milaya." She murmured.

"Privet, tetya Nat." He answered, letting her pull back and rest a hand on his forehead, apparently pleased with what she found.

"Feeling better?" She asked, switching to English.

"Yeah. I'm fine...just hungry."

"You sure, kiddo?" Clint asked, and both Sam and Rhodey leaned in, looking equally worried and skeptical.

"Yeah. I feel fine. The doctor said he needed to run tests and stuff, but I'm alright now." The archer lifted an eyebrow, then leaned in as if to get a closer look, lifting a hand to Peter's forehead. Laughing, Peter batted his hand away, and the man finally smiled, seeming to take a deep breath for the first time since Peter had come into the room.

"We'll let the doctor be the judge of that." His dad told him dryly, heading into the kitchen and opening the freezers. "Waffles sound okay, bud?"

"Sure."

"I'll have some waffles too, Tony!" Sam called, patting Peter firmly on the back. "Glad to see you up, short stuff. Maybe later you can go up with me in the Falcon suit."

"Oh! Dad said it was okay!" Peter cried, suddenly remembering a snippet of conversation from earlier...when he'd been sick. "Right, Dad?"

"We'll see." His father called from the kitchen, and Peter glared for a second, turning back to Sam who was watching him with a smirk.

"He said it was okay. Right, Steve?" Captain America chuckled.

"Me too, Tony! Extra crispy!" Rhodey put in, grinning as he came up behind Peter, a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hey, Uncle Rhodey."

"Wow, am I glad to see you up." He squeezed Peter to his side, then patted him on the back. Peter rested his head against the man's chest, squeezing him back. "We were worried, Pete."

"Sorry." He mumbled, and the man shook his head, pulling away and running a hand through his hair, probably making it stand up even more, but Peter didn't care. Not when his uncle was looking at him like that...like he'd been so afraid. It was how all of them were looking at him.

"Not your fault, buddy."

Steve sat on a stool beside him at the counter, throwing a huge arm over his shoulders and pushing Rhodey playfully out of the way. "You want Dad to make you waffles too?" He asked, and Captain America chuckled.

"Sounds good." He could practically hear his dad rolling his eyes, but figured that since he'd been so sick, his dad would put up with the cheek for a little while longer.

Tony ended up making enough waffles for everyone, and the whole team sat around the table, scarfing down their breakfast and keeping a close eye on Peter. A really, really close eye...like they expected him to disappear at any minute. He tried to focus on his food and not on being the center of attention...or how hungry he was. He just knew that he had to focus extra hard on not squeezing his fork too tight. He ended up asking for seconds which his father was happy to make him, and then, keeping up with Steve, he ate two more. After six waffles, all smothered in syrup, and three glasses of milk, he was finally full.

Pepper arrived halfway through breakfast, looking harried and frightened, and as soon as she caught sight of him, she dropped her bag and threw her arms around him, pulling him out of his chair wrapping him tightly in her arms, then kissing the top of his head. "Peter." She whispered, releasing a breath in a relieved sigh, and he hugged her carefully, fully aware that he could hurt her.

"I'm okay." He tried to assure her, and she rested a hand on the back of his head, her other arm pulling his dad close when the man approached. "I promise...I'm okay."

"You're okay." She repeated, sniffing and pulling away, hands on his shoulders as she smiled at him, his dad stepping to the side.

"Yeah." She cupped his cheek as if worried he might vanish, giving him the same look that all the others were giving him. All through breakfast, they'd been staring. "You didn't have to come all the way back."

Pepper frowned, glancing at his dad, and the Avengers all went quiet at the table behind him. "We thought...Peter, you could have died." She said the words softly...gently, but still, his dad flinched.

"But I'm fine." He promised. She nodded, glancing at his dad.

"Doctor Strange is going to look him over...make sure." His father assured her. She nodded, accepting Steve's offer of waffles, and they went back to eating breakfast in an almost tense silence. They were all worried still, Peter realized. It worried him too. He had...mutated? What did that mean? That he was hungrier than before? That he was stronger? But...what else?

Steve jumped up to do the dishes when they were all finished eating, grabbing Peter's plate as he went, and Tony led Peter back over to the elevator, his arm heavy and warm around his shoulders as he stayed close. "You sure you're feeling okay, Pete?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I mean...I don't have my contacts in, but I can see!" His dad lifted his eyebrows as the elevator started to move.

"We'll have Strange look at that."

"He's going to be running tests all day, isn't he?" Peter asked with a sigh. Tony chuckled, giving him a rueful smile.

"Yeah, I think so. Sorry, buddy." He squeezed him close, and Peter realized how afraid his father must have been...of course, his dad hugged him all the time. Was always keeping him close and ruffling his hair, squeezing his shoulder...he loved him. He always made sure that Peter knew how much he loved him, something that had started that first day when he'd taken him down to the lab, and had never stopped. But this was more than usual...he had barely let Peter out of his sight since he'd woken, just let him get dressed and then he'd stuck to his side ever since, turning to check on him constantly during breakfast and sitting so close that their legs had nearly touched.

Doctor Strange and Doctor Cho were both waiting for him in the Medbay, both holding tablets and looking fascinated. Helen was the first to see him, and she smiled, placing the tablet on the table and reaching out, wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back, resting his head on her shoulder. "I'm glad you're feeling better." She murmured.

Peter smiled. "Thanks. Me too." Helen chuckled. Doctor Strange gave a small smile, gesturing toward the chair set up in the corner.

"Alright, Peter. Take a seat on the bed and we'll get started."

Thank you for reading!