Hey all! I haven't been feeling too well, been having wisdom teeth issues, so I'm sorry for the lack of comment responses 3 I'm doing my best to try and catch up! For today we get a looooot of hurt/comfort, so I hope that makes up for it :)
No TW /
Have fun and stay safe ❤️️ 💛💚💙💜
Road to Recovery
Peter's senses don't come back to him all at once, which isn't a sensation he's used to. Well, a lack thereof. He hasn't experienced dull senses since before the spider bite, so when he becomes aware of the lack of feeling and hearing, he's confused. More confused than he already was. He feels…disjointed. Like he was pulled apart, scrambled, and put back together wrong. He can't move, but something in the back of his mind tells him he doesn't want to. It's as if his muscles don't even exist, let alone contract. His hazy brain attempts to piece thoughts together, but he can't think past the fog of discomfort settled over his mind.
Overall, he simply doesn't feel good and his slowly returning senses don't help that. He manages to curl his toes and feels sheets crumple beneath them. He's not in his own bed, he knows that much by the coarse texture of the sheets. It's the sterile, pharmaceutical smell that clues him in to where he might be. The smell is distinctive and unmistakable, yet instead of making the connection, his thoughts float to days where he's visited May on her overtime shifts at the ER after school. He's aware he should be more disconcerted, but that takes energy. Right now, he only has enough energy to attempt opening his eyes.
As soon as he's able to push past the resistance of his own eyelids, they shut again. They just don't want to stay open. He fights them again, barely capable of cracking them open, and drags his blurred vision around the room. The room is tilting. He's pretty sure that shouldn't be happening. A chill starts to set in, but he can't make his arms pull the blindingly white sheets around him. Slowly, he rolls his head to the side and belatedly notices May beside his bed. She's dozing off, resting her chin in her palm as she scrolls through her phone.
"May…" he says before his brain registers it. May's head snaps up and she's instantly wide awake.
"Hey, baby." She holds herself back from exclaiming and settles for grasping Peter's hand closest to her. "How are you feeling?" With her thumbs gently caressing the top of his hand, Peter considers her question. There are a few beats of silence as he takes in her exhausted appearance, especially noting her pained smile through his half-lidded eyes. Then, he reflects on himself; he can't feel much besides his cold arms, his head feels like it's filled with cotton balls, and he doesn't know why he's there. He's about to voice his concerns when he feels something else. Nausea.
"Feel sick," Peter mumbles out, his face paling even further. May recognizes that expression and races into action, swiping a nearby basin.
"Just roll onto your side," she instructs as she places it under her nephew's chin. There's not much Peter hates more than throwing up. He'd fight the biggest, baddest villain anyday in exchange. His stance is only further proven when his abdominal muscles are forced to clench and he's sent reeling into a world of blinding, unforgettable pain. A horrific scream overtakes him that May will never forget and he distantly hears her yelling for help. The stabbing agony radiates throughout his core and chest, causing his breathing to escape him in shallow gasps. Pain. Unbridled, otherworldly pain that he didn't even imagine to be possible. He clutches the bedside railing to distract himself from the pain, but it snaps beneath his grip. There's too many voices to focus on any and not enough room to breathe. The overstimulation and excruciating strain send him back into unconsciousness limbo.
It's another three hours before he wakes up again. This time around, he feels less muddled. His senses come back to him faster and he doesn't have to fight as much to get his eyes open. There's no pain, he's warm, and he isn't sick to his stomach. Yet, at least. He doesn't move at first, settling for sluggishly moving his eyes around the room. May is still in the same spot she was when he first woke up, except her focus is on the mounted TV instead of her phone. Peter drags his eyes away from her tired features and surveys the rest of the room. Ned and MJ are on the couch across from him; MJ is laying down with her feet on Ned's lap as he holds his phone horizontally. With a faint smile, Peter looks back to May.
"Morning," he greets in a raspy whisper. May turns her attention from the TV down to Peter and doesn't hesitate to return his smile.
"Welcome back," she matches his low, smooth tone with her own. Her's is less strained, for obvious reasons, and it helps Peter relax into the bed more.
"How are they?" he asks, nodding stiffly to his best friends. He notices that MJ is actually asleep and Ned has his headphones in as he watches his phone.
"They're worried," May answers honestly. Typical Peter asking about others before himself. "They wouldn't go home, but I had them call their parents. They said they wouldn't leave until they at least saw you awake. I doubt they'll leave even when they do get to talk to you." She makes sure her voice is full of compassion so that Peter doesn't misconstrue her words. Luckily, for once, Peter doesn't hold the guilt in his eyes that she has seen many times before. Peter nods perceptively as he sorts through his most pertinent thoughts. He remembers everything that happened during the fight, but it becomes less clear after hitting the wires. A common denominator is agony. Lots of it. Then he recalls Tony about to be…
"How bad?" he hesitantly inquires, avoiding his aunts worried gaze. He fiddles with the sheets beneath his fingertips and clears his throat.
"Are you sure?" May eyes him, looking for any signs of panic or discomfort. When he wordlessly nods, she gently continues. "38 stitches. You got an extra two when you pulled them a few hours ago." What throws her for a loop is the way Peter chuckles lightly. The hysterical kind that often precedes a breakdown.
"It felt…bigger, y'know? Like everything was just gonna…" fall out. He shivers at the thought and wills his stomach to cooperate. Despite his smile, tears start to gather in his eyes. He doesn't even know why he's so emotional. May brushes her thumbs across his cheeks when the tears fall.
"I know." Having her understand makes it a bit more bearable. Peter's eyes flick up to her face, then quickly back down.
"Are…are you mad?" he utters his worry inarticulately.
"Why would I be mad?" May's eyebrows pull together in confusion and concern. "Terrified and worried beyond belief, yeah. But mad? I could never be mad at you for helping people." Contrary to her words, her anxieties make her promise herself to bring up the topic of Spider-Man with him later. She needs to make sure he's safe, and this circumstance proved the opposite. Peter senses her uneasiness, but doesn't delve into it. Suddenly, he realizes something else and his eyes go wide.
"We didn't light the hanukkiyah last night," he says with dread. His stomach drops and he stares at his aunt with more tears welling in his eyes.
"It's okay, we'll make it up." May shakes her head once, shooting down any negative ideas he could've possibly thought up. "I can bring it over and we'll light it sometime today. Then we can get back on track tonight. Okay?" Peter lets out a relieved breath, trying to calm his already fried nerves, and gratefully smiles. The two simply sit in each other's comforting presence for a few moments. May didn't know if she was going to have that opportunity ever again.
"Is Mr. Stark okay?" Peter asks anxiously, remembering bits and pieces of him being thrown around. We should've realized how outmatched we were. He tries not to, but he wonders where Tony is. Last time he was in the infirmary, Tony was the first person he saw when he woke up. May nods as she smooths down his rowdy curls, yet doesn't elaborate.
"You stink," she teases and crinkles her nose playfully. Peter weakly swats her hand away when she ruffles up his dingy hair.
"Yeah, well, sweat and being tackled by nine year olds will do that," he jokingly grumbles. He chooses to leave out mentioning Gargan for fear of bringing down the already low mood that they've only started to lift. Rather than talk about hero related things, he smiles up at her and genuinely says, "I larb you." May chuckles through a grin and places a loving hand on his cheek.
"I larb you, too," she returns with gushing, wholehearted adoration. "Are you ready for them?" She raises her eyebrows as she glances over to Ned and MJ, already knowing what the response will be. Peter is feeling drained, but there's no way he would ever turn down his best friends. He gives her a confident nod in response and she takes care of the rest. "Hey, kids, look who's joining us for breakfast." As soon as she calls toward them, Ned jumps in his seat and instinctively rips out his headphones. The movement causes MJ to be startled awake and she blearily looks around the room before her eyes land on Peter. Shock takes over both her and Ned's faces, neither being able to comprehend the reality. Ned doesn't waste anymore time on trying to process it and simply races to Peter's bedside.
"Holy crap, Peter," he says breathlessly. Peter smiles widely, but holds back his laughter in order to not disrupt his stitches. "Are you okay?" Ned's delicately asked question portrays his concern for his best friend as his eyes dart over his chest, knowing what lies beneath the gown and bandages. Noticing the heartbreaking expression on Ned's face, Peter tries to lift his spirits like he had with May.
"Mother trucker, dude. That hurt like a butt cheek on a stick," he quotes with the best impression he can do, considering the circumstances. It's enough to get Ned to smile, but his eyes still hold that premature mourning. Not that Peter can blame him with everything that happened, but it's not something he would've ever wanted. And he inadvertently caused it.
"There's a time and a place for Vines, man," Ned jokingly reprimands in a weak voice barely above a whisper. Regardless, he leans forward and, as delicately as possible, hugs Peter. The action wasn't expected, but Peter wouldn't even think of denying a friend a hug. Especially not in this situation. He reciprocates it with one, tight arm and pats Ned's back. If anything, he has a pretty good idea that Ned mostly wants to make sure he's tangible. That he's really alive, in his bed, recovering.
"Watch your profanity." Ned pulls back and they both look back to MJ. She's standing at the foot of the hospital bed with her arms wrapped securely, almost defensively, around her middle. Her words don't hold the emotion that the reference suggests, but instead they're void of her usual dry humor. Peter notes the discoloration under her eyes and the way she fights to keep her eyes glued to the sheets. He catches onto her assumed thoughts relatively fast.
"I'm okay," he carefully reassures, deliberately putting reassurance into his voice. MJ's expression doesn't change, but she meets his eyes.
"You weren't, though," she counters, eyebrows pulling together as she fights off the emotion. "Four minutes you weren't even alive." Peter had never heard her voice crack until that moment. As uncharacteristic tears spill over her cheeks, he's never wanted anything more than to take all of the hurt away. To force himself to stand and march over and make it all up to her. All he can do is watch as she sniffs and swipes the tears off her face.
"I'm sorry, MJ." He doesn't know what else to say, but he means it. "I didn't…I'm okay now, right? It takes a lot more than a creep like that to keep me down." He musters the best smile possible and tilts his head to look at her better. The action is undoubtedly endearing, not to mention contagious. His smile spreads to MJ, if only slightly, and walks to stand next to Ned.
"Try to die again and I'll end you myself," she mildly threatens, though Peter is smarter than to disregard it completely.
"Yes, ma'am," he easily complies. Letting out a sigh filled with stress, he cleans back into the pillow. He doesn't want to dwell on the whole death thing, which will most likely feed into his never-ending nightmares, so he settles on finding a bright side instead. Hopefully there is one. "Anything else I should know?" he wonders warily.
"Oh!" Ned instantly latches onto his query, his excitement taking hold. "They used one of the Portal Instruments on you!" he exclaims as if it's the most brilliant, world-stopping information possible. Apparently it is, based on the way Peter's jaw goes slack. May watches on in content, relishing in how quickly they help each other move past their hardships.
"No way, are you serious?! Are you sure?!" When Ned nods rapidly in confirmation, Peter just about loses his mind. "I always wanted to try those, but Mr. Stark wouldn't let me! Did you know they administer medications at Mach 0.7?! That's insane!" His cheeks ache from grinning widely and by the end of his enthusiastic explanation, he's already winded. Even his nerdy rambles are zapping the energy right out of him. What a cruel world.
"Just don't make it a habit, please," MJ feels the need to remind him. She sits on the cot and Peter gives her a thumbs up. His goal now is to not make them worry more than they already have. It also feels great for his muscles to actually work, despite his sore abdomen. As they chat, mostly steering the casual conversation away from his injuries and Gargan, he scrolls through his phone notifications. Texts from both Shuri and, surprisingly, Flash catch his eye. He starts off with Shuri, since they're from a few hours ago and to make sure everything is okay on her end. Or, at the very least, better off than his end.
Badass Princess
Shuri: hey, I looked through all the files you gave me. you sure have an interesting villain on your hands
Shuri: psychotic, but interesting
Shuri: and i can send you those schematics whenever you're ready for them ¬‿¬
Shuri: Peter?
Shuri: text me back when you can
Shuri: wtf I just saw what happened on the news are you okay? I'm going to come up there and beat Scorpion's ass myself
Shuri: pls let me know you're okay when you can I can't do this whole waiting thing I'm pacing the lab and my brother keeps asking if I'm okay when obviously not okay
Peter: hey shuri i'm so so sorry for the late reply
Peter: iwas kind of unconscious?
Peter: wait the NEWS? the fight is on the news? uggghhnkjvsbfjs
Shuri: PETER THANK GOD YOU'RE OKAY WHAT HAPPENED TELL ME EVERYTHING
Peter: well apparently i was clinically dead for four minutes so thats fun
Peter: but long story short gargan kinda shish kabobbed me into oblivion and now i have 38 stitches
Peter: does that make me cool?
Shuri: I would lean more towards danger-prone but whatever makes you feel better
Shuri: are you sure you're alright? I want to make sure before giving you a hard time
Peter: yeah i'm okay, just sore yknow
Peter: man scorpion kicked my ass today
Shuri: but
Shuri: he can't hurt you
Shuri: you're baby
Peter: i'm not baby! i'm like the opposite of baby!
Peter: and how dare ypu make a tiktok ref
Peter: i dont even know who you are anymore
Shuri: that's alright i know enough for the both of us ˘◡˘
Peter: wow targetting my smarts now huh
Shuri: we all know MJ has your team's brain cells
Peter: hey
Peter: we take turns
Shuri: akdsjbjhfgksjhs
Shuri: I'm assuming you still want those schematics and info?
Peter: yes pleeeeeeaase
Shuri: Attachment: PDF
Shuri: I also have something else I was saving for the last day of Hanukkah, but I feel like being bedridden outdoes that
Shuri:
(Spider-Man saying "YOU'RE BREATHTAKING")
Peter: LKDJFJVFBJKDJFVKHBDFBVKJSDHBS I CAN'T
Peter: aaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH
Peter: THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER AND I BLAME YOU IF I PULL MY STITCHES AGAIN JDFHBHDFHVJHS
Peter: MAY LOVES IT
Peter: AND NED WANTS TO KNOW IF YO U CAN SEND IT TO HIM
Peter: AND MJ SAYS HI :)
Shuri: HI MJ
Shuri: happy to hear you like it, graphic design is my passion
Shuri: I'll let you get some rest, I'm sure you already have plenty of people hovering over you. Hurry up and get better or I'll be forced to come over there
Peter: oh nooooooo thatd be suuuuch a tragedy
Shuri: r e s t
Peter: i'll do as her highness commands
Shuri:
(Cinnamon Toast Crunch existential crisis)
Peter:
(tiny Kermit sipping tea)
After exiting out of his chat with Shuri, he glances down to Flash's contact and debates whether or not to respond now or later on. It's not even five in the morning yet, so he could probably get away with waiting. However, upon thinking it through, he chooses to do it now. Last time they talked it went well to the point of Flash actually texting him an apology. He hopes this will go just as smoothly.
Flash Thompson
Flash: Hi Parker. I saw what happened on TV and I know you hang out at Avengers Tower sometimes so I wanted to check in and see if you were okay or whatever
Peter: hey man, yeah i'm okay! i was there but i stayed out of the way while Mr. Stark and Spidey did their thing so yknwo
Peter: and you dont have to pretend to be all aloof and stuff, we're chill
Flash: Oh, right
Flash: Well that's all I really wanted to know so yeah
Flash: Glad you're okay n all
Peter: how was your christmas?
Flash: It was better than I thought it would be, I spent it with someone close and my parents called
Peter: that's awesome! im sorry your parents couldnt be there
Flash: Its okay it happens
Flash: I'm actually surprised you asked, I didn't think youd want to talk after everything
Flash: You and your aunt celebrate Hanukkah right?
Peter: yeah we do!
Peter: its one of my favorite things of the year cause we get to eat these potato cakes called latkes and May makes the best jelly doughnuts
Peter: i can always bring you some if you want? Ned and MJ think they're the best
Flash: Actually that would be pretty cool. If I'm feeling generous I might share our Recado de Pepian Indio recipe
Peter: haha i'll hold you to that
The conversation is a tad awkward, but it's to be expected considering everything. Not to mention he's pretty sure he's hopped up on superhero pain meds, but he counts it as successful nonetheless. He leaves the conversation as is and mentally hops back into the room's conversation of whether or not they should sleep.
"But I'm not tired!" Ned whines despite his bloodshot eyes.
"And I just woke up from a nap," MJ adds as if it adequately makes up for an all-nighter. May eyes them both, obviously unconvinced, with her eyebrows raised bemusedly. She turns her knowing look on Ned.
"Your eyes are red from staring at your phone all night," she then glances to MJ, "and your nap was less than an hour. Bedtime for all of you." Using her no nonsense, parental tone, she receives hesitant looks from the two, but both acquiesce in her authority nonetheless. MJ takes a few moments to stare at her hands placed in her lap, then lightly punches Peter's shoulder with a half-smile.
"Think you can survive without me?" she teases, but Peter isn't blind to the meaning behind her words.
"I'll be here," he promises, returning the smile wholeheartedly. And he plans on keeping his word. Besides the fact that being bedridden is pretty indisputable, he doesn't want to risk worrying them further. Whether he likes it or not, he has to relax for the time being.
"I'll come back when I wake up, okay?" Ned offers with a hopeful expression. "And I'll, like, bring some games or something." Peter chuckles and nods in agreement.
"Sounds good, man." He holds out his hand and Ned instinctively grabs it with a grin. They go through the motions of their handshake before Ned and MJ head out, leaving only May in his room.
"That means you too," May fixes that same maternal look on Peter and kisses his forehead. "Rest."
"Only if you get some sleep, too," Peter pins back on her with as much of a smirk as he can muster. The exhaustion is catching up with him and suddenly sleep is at the top of his list for once. Luckily, he still can't feel any pain. They must have me on the pain meds Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner came up with.
"Touché, you little monster," May relents, but Peter knows she won't be leaving the room to do so.
"Actually, mind if I cut in for a few?" Their heads turn to see Tony leaning casually against the doorway with his hands in his sweatpants pockets. Upon a few more seconds of inspection, Peter easily recognizes the feigned confidence; the tight smile, tired eyes, and guarded posture. If May notices it as well, she doesn't address it, just simply eyes him and stands up straight.
"I'll get something to eat," she glances over her shoulder to Peter, "do you want anything?" When Peter shakes his head, she walks out of the room as if she didn't leave behind a slight tension. Peter knows he doesn't necessarily have to fill the silence, but he's never been good with a lack of conversation. He likes talking and making the atmosphere comfortable. Thankfully, Tony beats him to it.
"How ya feeling, kid?" his mentor asks as he slowly meanders over and sits on the edge of the bed. Peter nods and subconsciously wiggles his toes.
"Good." It's a reflex, so he's quick to amend the evident dismissal. "Well, good considering everything." He glances from his interlocked hands up to Tony, then back down. What he expected was anger or even resentment for what he did, but all he's able to see is sadness. Well-hidden sadness, but sadness nonetheless. It's Tony's turn to nod in acknowledgement, but then for some reason he shakes his head.
"Please don't do something like that again. My heart almost gave out." He has a forced, lopsided smile across his face. The fluorescent lights reflect in his eyes, which are unwaveringly fixated on Peter.
"I didn't really…think about it?" Peter thinks allowed, his gaze now glued to the sheets. He sighs and looks up without moving his head. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to scare you. I was just thinking about that, that nightmare. Where you did that for me and…and I didn't wanna see that happen in real life." He's confident in his reasoning, but he knows that won't fly with Tony. Or May, even. They feel that their sole purpose is to keep him safe and alive, no matter the cost. That's what scares him. It's probably why they're scared, too. 'Cause they know I'd let myself get hurt to stop it. Tony understands what Peter means, and hell he can empathize with it, but it doesn't make it all any less terrifying.
"I know," he assures, much to Peter's relief. "Look, kid, you can't pull those stunts. Yeah, I know why you did it, but I can't see something like that again. Watching you-" He cuts himself off as his throat tightens at the mere thought of Peter's heart stopping. Peter bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to think how his temporary death affected everyone. Taking a deep breath, Tony continues. "How 'bout no one dies, deal?" He attempts to add some humor in his voice to hide the fear, which Peter lets him get away with.
"Deal," Peter concurs with a slight smile. When a few beats of silence pass, he decides to lift the leftover tension. "Does that mean you owe me?" he purposely wonders allowed, a smirk across his lips. Tony snorts in amusement and shakes his head at the kid's antics.
"Excuse me? No way in hell."
"Are you sure?" Peter teases, tilting his head. "'Cause I kind of, y'know, saved your ass so that makes you indebted." His reasoning isn't what gets him jokingly reprimanded, it's the word choice.
"Hey, watch your language before I call Cap to lecture you. I'll do it, you know I will," Tony jocularly warns, the playful glint never leaving his eyes.
"I'm pretty sure he'd pick my side on this one," Peter laughs and leans back into his pillows. He's starting to feel the aching in his chest, but ignores it in favor of finally getting to talk to Tony. It's alleviating most of his nerves. That is, until Tony asks an unexpected question.
"Do you still think I'm gonna take the suit away?" The question makes Peter blink in confusion as he processes the words. He honestly hadn't thought that way in about a week or so. Last time he thought something like that was when he fell in the river. However, he seriously considers the question.
"Well...yeah?" When Tony's eyebrows come together in confusion, he elaborates. "I mean, you could if you wanted. It's technically not my suit. It's yours. Not that that's a, a bad thing, it's just reality." He awkwardly clears his throat to hide the onset of embarrassment. I said too much. He's gonna feel bad or think I'm complaining. I don't wanna be ungrateful. He avoids looking at Tony's reaction at all costs.
"Then how about you make your own suit?" Tony proposes with a nonchalant sniff. Peter looks up in surprise and is hardly able to whisper out a response.
"What?"
"Down in the shop. You'll have everything you need both tech and resource wise," Tony continues as if it were the most simple thing in the world. And yet, Peter sits there like a deer caught in headlights. This wasn't the direction he was expecting the conversation to go in. He opens his mouth, brain thinking up a million different responses, then he closes it. Making his own suit in the workshop sounds like a dream come true.
"That…that'd be amazing. I'd love that, yes, please." He forces out all the words, then takes a deep breath. "Thank you so much," he chuckles out. It's all surreal. Tony places a hand on the kid's shoulder, but instead of squeezing like usual, he rubs it reassuringly. Something about the action makes Peter feel safe and his vulnerabilities slowly start crashing down to reality. Turns out a near-death experience will do that to you. "I'm not," he swallows, "I'm not strong enough…" The choked-out words take a minute for Tony to absorb. He doesn't know how to approach the admission, so he tries a comforting approach.
"Sure you are," he assures coolly. "You've done all kinds of crazy strong things. Like stop a car, hold a ferry together, lift a warehouse-"
"No, Mr. Stark. I'm not strong enough," Peter interrupts to reiterate, tears clinging to his eyelashes. He presses his lips together and shakes his head. He isn't even entirely sure what he's trying to say, but he has to get it out.
"Okay…talk to me," Tony urges, searching the teen's face for answers. Peter wipes at his damp eyes.
"I've lost three times now. Three times. But, but that's something I can deal with. I know that we're learning more about Gargan by, because that's what happens. You learn from your mistakes and get better, but it wasn't just us out there. Ned and MJ were right in the middle of it. They could've been the ones who got hurt or, or worse and I," he chokes back a sob, mostly for the sake of his stitches, "I wouldn't be strong enough to get through that. I can't lose anyone else." The confession brings tears to his eyes all over again. He holds a hand to his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut. He'd take all the physical pain in the world to avoid that emotional pain. Hands are placed on his back and he's delicately guided forward until his forehead rests on a warm shoulder. He relaxes into the hug that's starting to become familiar and simply breathes.
"You're not alone, alright?" Tony begins in a soft tone. "It won't always be easy and our job is always going to have that scare factor, but that's why we stick together. We're a team. Not a conventional one, but it works. We make it work, hm? And that's what we're going to keep doing. Like you said, we'll adapt and figure out a way to beat him. Same as Mysterio. Sound good?" Peter takes another calming breath and nods into Tony's shoulder. After a few moments of Tony rubbing his back, Peter sits up straight and smiles through the tears.
"Thanks, Mr. Stark," he says as he lays back. Tony's support never wavers, but doesn't leave it at that either.
"Jesus, kid, call me 'Tony.' I'll be hearing 'Mr. Stark' in my nightmares." It's phrased as a joke, but he means it. Peter can tell and chuckles to himself, realizing that he does in fact say "Mr. Stark" everytime they're in a bad situation. Maybe it's time for a change.
"Okay, Tony." Calling him by his first name is a weird feeling, but it fits. They've come a long way as mentor and mentee, so taking away the honorific is a way of putting them on equal footing. Now Peter isn't just showing respect to Tony, they're showing respect to each other.
"Get some sleep, kiddo." Tony nudges his shoulder and stands, stretching out his arms. "I don't know about you, but I need my beauty sleep." Peter playfully rolls his eyes, shaking his head, and nods towards the door.
"G'night," he urges, feigning impatience. In reality, he feels about ready to conk out anyways. It's been an…eventful twenty-four hours so he's calling it quits for now.
"Sleep tight," Tony says as if they hadn't just had a heart-to-heart, then smiles before ducking out. Peter finds the content, relieved smile lingering as he pulls the sheets up to his chest. Everything isn't magically solved by a longshot and they still have a lot to work on, but talking it out truly helps. Despite his injuries, he's already itching to get back in the game. He wants to work on a suit, create new appurtenances, come up with a plan. For now, however, his body needs to recover from what it's gone through. He gets as comfortable as he can and falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.
HE DID IT HE SAID THE THIIIIING no more Mr. Starks here! Even though it felt super weird for Peter not to call him that in later chapters lol
Thank you for reading! ❤️️ 💛💚💙💜
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