Welcome to my first Marvel story. This is a collaboration project with Snarkymuch that we've been working on. The story is complete on my end, but needs Snarks' additions and edits so posting will be spaced to twice a week — Wednesdays and Saturdays. It stands at around 35 chapters – though that might change — and we're expecting it to be around 100k by the end.

I have a confession about this whole Marvel writing thing, but I think I'll save it to the end so you don't judge me before you even start. Trust me, though, this story was a challenge and Snarks worked her butt off to make up for where I lacked.

AO3 Tags: #Peter Parker & Tony Stark, #May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark. #May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, #Peter Parker, #Tony Stark, #May Parker (Spider-Man) #Pepper Potts, #James "Rhodey" Rhodes, #Happy Hogan, #Bruce Banner #Original Characters #Hurt Peter Parker #Peter Parker Needs a Hug #Whump #Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks #Paralysis #Wheelchairs #Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure #May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker #Protective May Parker (Spider-Man) #Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man) #Tony Stark Has Issues #Tony Stark Has Panic Attacks #Protective Tony Stark #Supportive Tony Stark #Caretaking #James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro #Medical Doctor Bruce Banner #Hand wavy science #Comic Book Science #We Are Not Doctors #Blame WebMD #Coming to Terms With A Disability #Angst with a Happy Ending #Hurt/Comfort #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Fluff and Angst #Derogatory language about disability by a disabled character

Chapter One

The window creaked in protest when Peter shimmied it open. It was late, and he was tired and sore. His patrol had started quiet, but before heading in, Karen had tipped him off about an ATM robbery. It wasn't that big of a deal, but it was still a workout, and he ended up taking a few hits from a bat before webbing the guy up.

He stripped off his suit and grabbed some sweats, heading to the shower to wash away some of the sweat that clung to him. The hot water would feel good on his tired muscles. When he slipped to the bathroom, he heard the TV in the living room. May was still up. He called out to her, letting her know he was home. She always worried about his spider-manning.

"Okay, hon," she called back. "I'm gonna head to bed. Don't forget to set the alarm. You can't be late again."

"I'll be up, promise."

He shut the bathroom door and started the shower, catching himself in the mirror. Purple bruises still marred his chest and shoulder from days ago. They blended in with the new ones that were blooming on his side. He carefully touched the reddened area, face twitching at the pain. They were going to hurt tomorrow. He wished Tylenol still worked for him.

Grumbling, he stepped out of his boxers and into the shower. Letting the hot water wash away some of his stress. He was going to need to be more careful.

Tony checked the time. The kid should be there anytime. After the disastrous events of homecoming, Tony had stepped up his taking care of Peter. They didn't just share lab time, but they also trained together on weekends. It wasn't safe for Peter to be out there fighting crime without any training—not that Tony was skilled in hand to hand, but he knew a thing or two.

When Peter got to the gym in the tower—the tower that Tony decided not to sell, after all—Tony was already ready to go. He was in his tracksuit, bouncing on his toes. Peter greeted him with a wave, dropping his bag by the wall. "Hey, Mr. Stark."

"Hey, kid, go get changed up. I wanna see if I can beat that Peter Tingle of yours."

Peter's head snapped up, his face going red. "That's not—it's not my Peter Tingle."

Tony laughed. "That's not what Aunt Hottie says."

Peter groaned, making Tony laugh harder. "Don't sweat it. We could call it your arachnid awareness instead."

"Please, no."

Tony did some light stretching while he waited for Peter. He was getting too old not to. Peter came out of the locker room a few minutes later in his suit, minus the mask, which he held in his hand.

"Ready to be schooled?" Tony asked, walking with Peter to the center of the mats.

Peter smiled. "Bring it, old man." The kid tugged on his mask and took a defensive position.

Tony activated his suit, letting the suit spread out over him. He didn't give Peter time to think. He just went straight for him. Peter dodged and easily deflected his attacks. Tony stepped it up, moving faster and with more force. Peter seemed to be struggling. Tony threw out his fist, thinking Peter would dodge right, but instead, the kid didn't see it coming. The blow landed squarely on his nose. Thankfully, he was able to pull the punch in time and avoid crunching bone.

Peter put up a hand. "Time—time. I need a minute." He pulled his mask off, smearing blood across his face. His nose was bleeding—and bleeding bad.

Tony stood frozen for a moment, but he snapped himself out of it, tapping his housing unit and making the suit retreat. With his suit gone, he moved to Peter's side, hand hovering in front of him.

"I'll get a towel. Just keep your head—keep it tipped forward. I'll be right back."

Tony bolted to the locker room and grabbed a towel, rushing back to Peter's side. The kid's nose was still gushing, blood dripping on the mats. He hadn't even hit the kid that hard. He'd seen Peter take harder hits on patrol and be fine. He lifted the towel to his nose, holding it in place. Peter raised his gaze to look at him. Tony could see the embarrassment in the kid's eyes.

Forcing a smile, Tony tried to lighten the mood. "You got an ouchie, Pete?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "No, I just took a meat tenderizer to the face. I'll be fine."

"Seriously, kid, I've seen you take harder hits than that and shrug them off, but you're—hell, I could have broken your nose." Tony lifted the towel, taking a peek at his nose. It was still bleeding freely, so he pressed it back down. He couldn't help the pang of guilt that twisted his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the kid.

"I don't know what happened. I didn't feel it coming." Peter shrugged. "It'll stop bleeding soon."

"Yeah, probably will, but I don't understand why it's bleeding at all."

Peter's gaze dropped, and he shifted his weight between his feet. "I guess you punch harder than I thought. It's actually impressive for an old man."

Tony watched the way Peter's shoulders had turned in and wouldn't make eye contact. Something was up, and Tony was going to figure out what. "What's going on?"

Peter chanced a look at him, big eyes blinking. "Nothing—really."

"I call bullshit. You can tell me what's going on, or I'll get Bruce here to set your nose and give you a Hello Kitty band-aid. What would MJ think of that?"

A line formed between Peter's brows. Tony couldn't see it through the towel, but he was pretty sure Peter was frowning. "She'd probably love it, but yeah, it's really nothing. I guess I'm not healing as quick these days." He ducked his head, shrugging a shoulder. "It's not a big deal. Don't freak out, but—" Peter lifted his shirt, exposing an expanse of multicolored bruises.

Tony pulled back, studying the marks. There were so many—all in varying degrees of healing. The one on his side looked fresh. Tony had seen Peter plenty of times after an injury, but he'd never looked like this. "What the hell happened to you? Did you get hit by a truck on your way over?"

"No, these are just what I picked up this week patrolling."

Tony blinked a few times, trying to wrap his mind around it. There wasn't a good explanation for why he wouldn't be healing. With the evidence in front of him, it wasn't something he could ignore. They needed to figure out what was going on. Tony's brain nearly seized when he realized how badly he could have hurt the kid. If he wasn't on his game, if he wasn't healing, their sparring match could have turned out a lot worse than a busted nose.

Peter shifted again, and Tony saw that the kid was close to losing it. Anxiety was rolling off him in waves. With his free hand, Tony cupped the back of Peter's neck and gave it a gentle squeeze, hoping it reassured him, though Tony needed reassurance himself. "Maybe it's the flu or something, slowing down the healing."

Peter shrugged. "Maybe."

He didn't sound convinced, and Tony couldn't blame him. This was a concerning development.

Tony nudged Peter, reaching up and helping him lift the towel. The bleeding had stopped.

"Thank god, it was starting to look like the set of Carrie."

Peter tried to sniffle, but it just made a wet noise. "I'm gonna go clean up."

"It can wait. It's not that bad."

"It looks like I faceplanted in a bowl of tomato soup. I'm cleaning up."

Peter disappeared into the locker room, and Tony watched him go. It was clear that Peter wasn't comfortable talking about it, and Tony couldn't blame him. If something was wrong with his powers, then it put Spider-Man at risk. Tony didn't ever want to ground him from the suit again, but he couldn't have him out there getting hurt either. They needed to figure out what was going on—sooner rather than later.

Peter came out a few minutes later, his eyes beginning to bruise. The pang of guilt from earlier was now more like a knife twisting in his gut. He cringed when he realized May was going to ask what happened, and more likely than not, she was going to rip him a new one—again. Something he was getting familiar with now. Peter's aunt had no problem holding back.

"Training's over, panda kid. Let's talk."

Peter lifted a brow, a small smile on his lips. "Panda?"

"I guess you didn't check the mirror. You look like Po."

"You've watched Kung Fu Panda?" Peter asked in disbelief.

Tony shrugged, tipping his head to the side. "The fact you know Po means you've watched it, too."

A genuine smile spread across Peter's face. "Then I guess this makes you Master Shifu."

"Not complaining about that. Shifu is the bomb." Tony patted Peter's shoulder, guiding him out of the gym. "That's something you youngsters say, right? Come on. Let's get a drink."

When they got to the penthouse, Peter went to the couch while Tony got them drinks. He took a seat beside Peter, handing him his soda.

"So, what were you so carefully not telling me earlier?"

Peter shrugged.

"No? Maybe you don't want to tell me. That's okay. I'll just ask Aunt Hottie."

Peter blanched. "No!"

"Yeah, didn't think so. So come on, Spider Baby, spill. What's going on with you?"

Peter wrung his hands, keeping his eyes on his lap. "So, it started about a month ago. Bruises started taking longer to heal, only a little longer, so I figured it was nothing, but then they took even longer and—and I don't feel as strong anymore, Mr. Stark. I mean—I don't know, sometimes I don't feel like Spider-Man anymore when I'm fighting, not the guy that wins."

It confirmed everything Tony was already thinking. Something was going on, and it wasn't good. He couldn't let his nerves show, though, because Peter needed him, needed him to be strong, to find a solution—or at least work towards one.

"Okay. This is a problem, but not a big one. All we need to do is work out what's going on. Maybe you've got some virus or something that's slowing you down. Those things take time sometimes. I'll get Bruce on it."

Peter chanced a look at him. The worry was evident in his eyes. "You think there's something wrong, don't you?"

"I think we need to be sure before you start packing up your suit for Goodwill. We'll get some blood, and Bruce can start running it through the system." He patted Peter's knee. "We'll figure it out, kid. But"—Tony leveled his gaze on him—"we're going to scale back your patrols for a while."

"Scale back how?"

"You don't go out alone. I can come with you."

"You're busy."

Tony shook his head. "Not too busy to stop you picking up bruises like a patchwork quilt. I mean it. You either stop altogether, or you wait for me to go with you."

Peter's shoulders slumped, but he nodded. "Okay, I'll only go out with you."

Tony reached over, ruffling Peter's already messy curls. "Agreement, that's what I like to hear. Now, what do you want to do? No more training. Movie? Poker? Eat a bunch of shawarma and regret it later."

Peter laughed. "Movie. As long as I can pick."

"As long as your pick is for a panda with martial arts skills, that's fine with me."

"Sounds good to me. It's where I learned my mad skills."

They settled down on the couch to watch the movie, but Tony couldn't focus on the screen. His mind was chasing circles around him. It had never occurred to him that something could go wrong with Peter's powers. From what they knew, they should have been permanent. It just didn't make sense. Maybe it was just a fluke, something messing with his healing factor, but Peter had mentioned his strength as well.

Every avenue that his brain went down led to more questions than answers. If there was one thing Tony didn't like, it was not knowing. He liked being informed and having all the information, and right now, he was coming up lacking. The sooner he could talk to Bruce, the better.

The movie was just finishing when Friday announced that Bruce was on his way up. Tony had sent off a short message that he needed to meet him in the penthouse but didn't explain why.

Leaving Peter dozing on the couch, Tony got up and went to the elevator to greet Bruce.

"Hey, Tony. You wanted to see me?" Bruce was wearing his lab coat over rumpled clothes, likely from catching a nap on the cot in his lab. Like Tony, Bruce had a habit of getting lost in his work and crashing from exhaustion.

Tony glanced over at the kid and then back to Bruce. He bit at his lip, thinking over what to say.

"Tony, what's going on? You look—well, worried. It's a new look on you lately, so what's going on."

Tony raked a hand through his hair, nibbling his lip. "It's the kid, Peter, he's going something going on and I—hell, I am worried."

Bruce's lips pursed. "What's going on."

"He's not healing like he should. He's always healed up fast, and I've seen injuries bounce off him, but today ..." Tony shook his head. "I could have broken the kid's nose. We were sparring, I've got him on this new training thing, building up his skill, and I got him in the face, just once, and it bled like a son of a bitch. I have seen him take that hit before and come right up again, but it damn near floored him." He rubbed the back of his neck, then dropped his hand with a sigh.

"And that's definitely new?" Bruce asked, his gaze slipping to Peter and then back to Tony, a line appearing between his brows.

"It is, and there's more. He didn't see the punch coming. He's got this awareness of threats, a tingle." The corner of Tony's mouth quirked up at the name but fell again. "And he never would have let me make contact before, but he said there was nothing."

Bruce nodded a few times, seeming to take in the information. "So, he's getting weaker."

As much as Tony didn't want to admit the truth, the fact was, Peter was losing his strength. "I wouldn't say weaker, exactly, but yeah, he's not himself, and he says it's getting worse. Damn kid only told me about it today, but apparently, it's been a month, getting steadily worse."

"It's understandable that you're worried."

Tony shook his head, dragging a hand over his mouth. "I've cut him off patrolling alone. I'm going along for the ride to keep an eye on him because I know damn well that I'm not going to be able to cut him off patrolling completely. The kid takes his patrols seriously. It kills him to stay home when there are people out there that need him." Tony glanced back to the couch. Peter was snoring softly, looking younger than ever. Turning back to Bruce, he squared his shoulders. "I will protect him out there, but we need to know what's going on. You've got to work this out."

Bruce's eyes softened, and he nodded, resting a hand on Tony's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'll draw some blood and start analyzing it. There might be an answer in there somewhere. If I can't spot it, we'll start doing some other tests."

"What kinds of tests? I don't want him more worried than he already is. If we turn him into a guinea pig, he'll freak," Tony said, then tipped his head to the side, "and he'll be cranky, too. He hates being poked and prodded."

Bruce shrugged, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt. "You say you need answers, that he does, so he's going to have to let me work," he said, slipping his glasses back on.

"I'll get him on board." Tony licked his lips, considering for a moment. "You don't think it can be some kind of virus, the flu maybe, that's interfering with what he's got going on with his power?"

Bruce gave him a small smile. "Could be. I'm no expert on what the kid's got going on. It's not like he's ever signed up to let me analyze him, not before anyway. I'll run the usual med tests to see if I can spot something there, but, Tony, I think that's pretty unlikely." Bruce patted his arm. "We'll work it out, though. Your kid will be fine."

His kid. The words sat warm in Tony's chest. There was a truth in them. At some point in the last year, Peter had become his in every sense but blood. He worried about him, protected him, helped him with homework. Hell, Tony and May were basically co-parenting. He'd do anything for Peter. He was one of the few people that Tony held close, that he'd fight to the death for and avenge from the grave. The kid meant everything to him, and that was kind of scary.

Bruce's assurances made him feel a little better, though. The man was a genius, and combined with Tony's skills in the lab, there wasn't much they couldn't figure out together. He had to have faith they would work this out.

"Thanks, Bruce."

"I'll get some gear from the med bay to draw some blood. I'm going to need to use the lab if you want me working here."

Tony let out a breath. "Whatever you need. Make a list, and I'll get any equipment we don't already have."

Bruce eyed him for a moment, making him shift under his gaze. The man's expression softened, though, seeming to see something in Tony. He couldn't help but wonder what it was.

"I'll head down to med bay. See you in a minute."

"I'll go wake the kid."

Bruce retreated to the elevator, and Tony turned to the living room, crossing back to the couch. Peter was fast asleep. The bruises on his under his eyes and around his nose had finally settled into a deep purple. He couldn't help but feel responsible for hurting him, and just thanked all that was holy that he hadn't been hurt worse.

Bending, Tony ran his fingers through Peter's curls. The kid's brow scrunched up, and he swatted at his hand, making Tony smile.

"Wakey wakey, Spider Baby. Nap time's over. I've got Bruce here, and we need to draw some blood."

Peter blinked his eyes open. "Blood?"

"Yeah, I know you probably gave enough already from the red nose geyser you popped earlier, but we need something to work with. I'll get you juice and a cookie after."

Peter rolled his eyes. "What will he be looking for in my blood?" he asked, sitting up. "Like the virus thing?"

"The virus thing, the healing thing. What he's looking for is answers, and he's a damn genius with stuff like this." Tony took a seat beside him, nudging him with his shoulder. "He's almost as smart as me."

"I don't know. You said he was experimenting when he turned himself into the green guy."

Tony shrugged, "I did say that. I promise he learned from his mistakes, though. I won't let you near gamma rays. Hell, the last thing we need is you Hulking out, too. The suit would never fit."

"Sure, okay, but I want some of the girl scout cookies I know you're hiding above the fridge when we're done."

Tony laughed. "I'll see what we've got in the cupboard. I can probably deliver, though. Pepper has a soft spot for girls selling snacks, which works well with her sweet tooth. If she's not scarfed them down already, I'll set you up."

The elevator opened, and Bruce came in with a tray of syringes and vials. Tony raised a brow at how many tubes there were. Peter was definitely going to complain.

When Peter shrank back into the cushions, Tony patted his leg. "I'll make it two cookies. Take it easy on him, Doc. Kid's not a fan of needles. He's not over those rabies shots from when he managed to get bitten by a Doberman trying to rescue a cat."

Bruce's eyes twinkled with amusement. "You rescue cats?"

Peter ducked his head as he shrugged a shoulder. "Only sometimes. There's this one old lady that—never mind."

Bruce grabbed a stretchy band, tying it around Peter's arm. He knelt in front of Peter, reaching behind him to the tray to get a needle. "Here we go."

Peter chewed his lip, looking worried. Tony could understand. He was worried, too. It wasn't the blood draw, the needles, it was the realization that this was really happening. Drawing blood made it real. Tony knew Peter worried about this might mean for him. Spider-Man was a massive part of who he was. Losing any part of that would be devastating for the kid, but a little piece of Tony, a small sliver, wondered if he wouldn't be safer that way—without Spider-man to put him in danger. It was selfish, but Tony didn't like thinking of the kid out there fighting crime.

He just wanted him safe.