"No, you have to—" Wanda couldn't even finish her sentence she was laughing so hard.
"Have to what?" Peter asked, splattered in pancake batter after his disastrous attempt to use a mixer.
"Have to turn down the setting," she finished, reaching over and correcting his mistake. She smirked at him as he tried to brush the batter off his faded Captain America shirt.
She remembered a couple of weeks ago Tony had bought him a plethora of Iron Man stuff as a joke, so the next day Peter had marched downstairs wearing a Cap shirt. Tony had leaped up and demanded he change immediately. Steve and Pepper had been too busy laughing to say anything. Wanda smiled at the memory as she tossed him a dishrag.
"Thanks," Peter said with a roll of his eyes as he dabbed at his clothes.
"I take it you don't usually cook."
"No. May wasn't too good a cook herself, so she never taught me," Peter admitted with a shrug. "I usually just have take-out."
"Hey, where's that pancake mix? I have the griddle all fired up," Sam interrupted, spatula in hand.
Wanda sighed. "One minute. We had a bit of a mishap." Peter grinned innocently.
A phone rang. For a second, the heroes only listened as the unexpected chime seemed to fill the room. Sam reached into his pocket and answered as Wanda waited with an anxious expression. Peter listened in on the conversation, his enhanced hearing picking up on Steve's faint voice coming through the phone.
"Sam, we're on our way back now," Steve's voice said through the phone. He sounded strained. "Is Bruce there?"
"No, he's visiting some friends in the city. I'll call him. ETA?" Sam replied, well aware Peter was listening in. The kid wasn't as subtle as he was trying to be.
"Two hours. We need the Medbay prepped." Peter swallowed. Please, nobody be hurt, please, please.
"I'll make sure it is. What happened?"
Steve didn't answer right away. His voice was extremely frustrated as he said, "They had some of those alien weapons. We didn't know about it. Tony took a bad hit—"
The whisk Peter was holding crumpled in his death grip. He couldn't hear what else Steve was saying, all he could hear was the echo of Tony, Tony, Tony. Of course it was Tony. He hadn't used his suit in months, he must have been out of shape, and distracted because now he had Peter to worry about. Peter's breath started to come a little too fast, the room seemed to be going out of focus.
"Peter, breath," Sam commanded, his voice sounding both far away and much too close all at once. "Breath. Come on."
He tried he really did, but panic was clawing its way through him. Was this all his fault? If he had gone, would Tony be hurt, maybe dying, right now? He should have tried harder, should have insisted. He knew something was wrong, something had to be wrong because Tony hadn't been calling him-
"Peter." Wanda's voice was softer, flowing over him. It sounded nice. He flinched just a second before her hand landed on his arm, but she didn't pull away. She rubbed his arm gently, and then her face came into focus, concerned, but calm. "Its okay. Just breath."
He took a shuddering breath, then worked on slowing his heart rate. Wanda and Sam waited patiently, her hand comforting as it rested on his arm. The small bit of contact was enough to ground himself. The kitchen came into focus again and he met Sam's eyes.
"Is—is Tony…" Goddammit, his voice was shaky and small. He didn't want any pity right now, he wanted to know if Tony was alright.
"They're flying him back right now," Sam said in the steady, calm voice he usually reserved for their therapy sessions. "We have the best medical equipment and doctors in the world. Tony will be fine."
It was that that unnerved him most. Sam never referred to Tony by his first name. He was always Stark, or Iron Man if he was feeling generous. Saying Tony meant things were serious. But Peter tried to focus on the reassurances Sam was offering. They'd dealt with injuries before, they could handle almost anything with all their resources. But not everything. Rhodey was proof of that, regardless of whatever tech Tony had made for his best friend to help him walk. Some injuries were simply beyond current science.
Peter struggled to ask his next question. "What injuries...what injuries does he have?"
Wanda looked concerned. "Peter, I don't know if you should know that."
"No," Sam disagreed, to both of their surprise. The Falcon just shrugged at their incredulous looks. "I know you, kid. If I don't tell you you'll just worry even more. Or poke around where you shouldn't."
"Worry about what?" Pepper asked as she walked into the room. Instead of her usual business attire, she wore a T-shirt and jeans, her strawberry blonde hair wet from the shower and pulled into a loose bun. Her cheerful smile faded as she took in the somber scene before her.
"...You may want to sit down," Wanda said with a wince.
He barely felt Pepper's gentle hand running through his hair, or the arm of the chair digging into his side. His eyes were closed, and he looked asleep with the way his head was resting on Pepper's shoulder, but that was just to minimize how much sensory input he was getting. It was easier to concentrate on his hearing if he didn't also have to be seeing everything. And all he wanted right now was to listen to the faint sound of Tony Stark's heart beating down the hall. Nothing mattered to the teen right now other than that heartbeat.
It had been hours since the Quinjet had landed and Bucky and Cap had raced Tony's limp body to the Medbay on a gurney. He had had to watch from the upstairs window since Pepper insisted that they'd only be in the way and they needed to let the doctors, Bruce among them, work. He was sure her argument made a lot of sense, but he had to bite down on every instinct he had not to just leap out the window and be by Tony's side.
Only after Pepper had forced him to choke down some food had she agreed to let him come wait outside the Medbay. Apparently, Bruce was the one who decided if Tony could have guests, and he hadn't left the room all day. Peter had greeted all the returning Avengers, but they could tell he didn't want to talk to any of them right now. He just wanted his father.
"Is he asleep?" Bruce asked quietly, as if trying not to disturb him. It seemed the doctor had forgotten he had enhanced hearing and he would be able to pick up on a simple tremor, even in his sleep. It was nice that he was being considerate though.
"No," Pepper responded at a regular volume. Peter could practically hear the wry smile in her tone. She knew her son too well to believe he'd fallen asleep at a time like this. "Can we see Tony now?"
"He's still unconscious, and he probably won't be up until tomorrow morning," Bruce said. Peter didn't move yet, though he was listening intently to the conversation. "But you're welcome to go in if you want."
Peter was up instantly, only stopped from running to Tony's side by Pepper's strong grip on his hand. She smiled at the scientist warmly, even as the teenager visibly fidgeted.
"Thank you, Bruce," she said gratefully.
"Of course. I'll let you two have some time to yourselves," he said, heading towards the living room where everyone else doubtless was.
Peter entered the Medbay first, practically bursting through the doors. He walked over quietly to Tony's bedside, his face pale. Tony would have looked peaceful, if it weren't for the multiple tubes and machines he was hooked up to. All his injuries were obscured under the standard blue gown patients were given, but it still made Peter feel sick to see his father like this. Pepper entered and wrapped an arm around his shoulder comfortingly. He leaned into her instinctively.
"He's going to be fine," Pepper whispered.
He shook his head minutely. Then he talked for the first time in hours, his voice barely audible. "I should have been there."
"No, baby. Don't blame yourself," she told him seriously. "This is not your fault. You couldn't have prevented this."
He didn't respond. Pepper was wrong, he could have stopped this, he could have been watching Tony's back, he could have done something. He should have pushed Tony harder to come on this mission, or asked Cap. He hadn't tried hard enough.
"Peter," she said sternly, turning his chin so that he had to meet her eyes. "Stop blaming yourself. It doesn't help anyone, and Tony wouldn't blame you either. He'd be glad that you were here, safe. Okay?"
"Okay," he repeated. He was sure he would agree with her later, when Tony wasn't lying unconscious in the Medbay. They were silent for a moment, only disturbed by the rhythm of the heart monitor. Then Peter said softly, "He really looks bad, doesn't he?"
"Peter... Peter, come on, buddy, you need to get up," Bruce urged, crouching beside the teen's chair. Peter didn't even look over at him.
"No, I'm going to stay here."
The doctor's brow furrowed. He tried again. "We're having breakfast right now. Some of your favorites. Why don't you join us?"
"I'm not hungry," he responded automatically.
"When was the last time you ate?"
"Yesterday, when I force fed him a sandwich," Natasha said, appearing in the doorway with Steve.
She looked less than pleased at the state of the teenager. He was red eyed from staying up all night and pale. His hair looked messy and greasy. No one else had been able to get through to the teen. Pepper had had to leave unexpectedly for work yesterday afternoon, so the Avengers had been taking shifts sitting with Peter at Tony's bedside. Natasha was the only one who had no compunctions about forcing others to follow her orders though, especially when it was for their health. Steve was more there for moral support.
"Food time," she announced, walking over and pulling Peter out of his seat with her surprising strength.
"I'm fine," he protested, though he offered no resistance.
"No, you aren't. You haven't eaten or sleep in twenty-four hours," Steve said.
"That's an exaggeration!"
Natasha just shrugged and tugged him towards the door. "Too bad. Breakfast. Bruce already told you Tony won't wake up for a few more hours. You've already been up all night. Come on."
He still looked torn, but he allowed Nat to pull him out of the room. Steve did note that Peter looked back at Tony more than once. Steve didn't like seeing the billionaire like this any more than Peter, but he knew that he would pull through, especially with the access they had to the most advanced medical technology. It still amazed him how much the world had changed in just a few decades.
Steve looked at Nat and Peter's retreating figures, and hoped nothing else would change in Peter's brief life.
"I thought I told you not to mope," Tony said quietly, head turned to look at the teen slumped in the chair by his bedside.
Peter jerked, an excited smile stretching across his face. "You're up!"
"Up? How long have I been out?" he asked, sitting upright slowly. Bruce had taken out all the needles and unhooked the heart monitor last night when Tony's condition had stabilized. They had just been waiting for him to wake up.
"Since yesterday morning. It's about one now," Peter supplied, looking at the man anxiously. "How are you? Are you in any pain? Should I call Bruce? Oh! I need to let Pepper know." Peter reached for his phone, but in his eagerness ended up sending it crashing to the floor.
Tony smiled. "Slow down. I'm fine. And why isn't my wife crying at my bedside?"
"She had to go in to work," he explained, retrieving his phone sheepishly.
"How are the others? They didn't drop the mission, right?" Tony asked curiously, ruffling his short, dark hair. He frowned as he noticed the hospital gown.
"Oh, um, I didn't ask," the teen admitted.
Tony rolled his eyes. Of course not. From the look of things, Peter hadn't slept either, and most likely hadn't left the room. The kid nearly had as big attachment issues as he did, and he loved him for it. They fell apart in the same way, so Tony couldn't even be mad at him for it.
"Well, catch me up. We had to be on radio silence for a week," Tony said, gesturing for Peter to sit on his bed. He smiled and came over, leaning his back against the rail at Tony's feet as he caught his dad up on the past week.