Extended Summary : Peter didn't answer him. Instead, he pushed himself up on his elbows and scanned his surroundings. MJ was standing a few feet away from the two, her thumb pressed against her lip in worry, and the clock in the corner behind her read three forty-five in the afternoon. Middle of decathlon practice. They still had an hour or so left, then. / "Did I pass out?" he asked, at last.
Notes: This is a fic I've written for my good friend, Brentinator (Susz). It's my first irondad fic in over a year, and it takes place after Peter's identity is revealed in FFH/NWH. However, this was written before the movie came out, so there's no spoilers for the movie itself. And Tony is alive in this fic. Enjoy, and happy reading!
Warnings: Fainting, medical procedures, and fear of needles.
Word Count: 5k
Peter groaned softly as he felt himself come back to consciousness. A steady throb was pulsating against the side of his skull and, although he hadn't opened his eyes yet, the teenager didn't need to to know where he was. Decathlon practice.
It was the first one he'd gone to since his identity was revealed, though that was mainly because May and Tony had encouraged him to. Ever since his name was cleared, his schedule was overflowing with school, homework, patrol, and charity events, so he'd been too busy to go. But, May and Tony had been adamant, telling him that it'd give him a sense of normalcy and a bit of a break from the celebrity lifestyle. Peter, with the new pessimistic attitude he adopted over the course of the trial, just scoffed in response. "Nothing's normal," he replied at the time.
However, after the many injuries he sustained on patrol, coming to, oddly enough, was a familiar feeling to him.
"Peter?" He heard a voice calling his name and the teenager in question blinked his bleary eyes open. There, hovering above him, was Ned, with an expression of relief laced on his face. "Peter, you're awake!" he exclaimed.
"Yeah." He gave his friend a tired smile. "Sorry."
"No, don't be sorry!" Ned quickly broke out into a grin and squeezed him into a tight hug. "But, dude, you scared the shit outta me!" he said, once he pulled apart from the hug and held him at arms' length. Peter just blinked owlishly and continued lying there, not sure of what was happening or what could've happened to make Ned act so energized. "I was so worried, man, oh my god-"
Peter groaned and shut his eyes once more. "Volume," he muttered, as he brought a hand to his head.
"Right!" Ned winced and instantly lowered his tone. "Sorry, I know your hearing is always weird after waking up," he apologized. Then, he had spared a fast glance at something across the room, before he directed his attention back to Peter. "Stay here," he commanded, with his left hand on Peter's shoulder to hold him down, and the right holding his to reassure him. "Mr. Harrington- he just came back. I'm going to go get him and MJ, and let them know you're awake, okay? They'll want to see you."
"Okay." Peter nodded and let himself lie back against... whatever he was laying on. It could've been the floor, or a table. He didn't really care at the moment. He just wanted to go back to sleep, and ignore his pained state.
Ned didn't say anything more after that, so Peter assumed that he went to go get their teacher and his girlfriend, and settled into the silence. He just felt so shitty. His head was pounding, probably from when he most likely hit it, and, although the room was relatively quiet, he could still hear Flash's voice from the other side of the auditorium, where he was keeping the practice running and asking his classmates questions.
Luckily, Peter didn't have to focus on the unbearable, yet minuscule, noise for long, as Ned came back over a few minutes later with MJ and Mr. Harrington just a few feet behind him. "-Might wanna keep your voices down," he was telling them. "His head hurts, and I don't think he's feeling so good."
MJ raised her eyebrows at the phrase and, having been educated on the origin of it, shot Ned a disapproving 'really?' glare. But, before she could scold him or comment on it (said phrase had been banned from all their conversations), Mr. Harrington made his way over and took a seat beside his star student.
"Peter?" He made sure to keep his voice just above a whisper and spoke slowly. In return, Peter opened his eyes and squinted at the man staring at him with concern, his vision still terribly blurry. "Hey. Ned told me you aren't feeling too well. Now that you're awake, do you think you can tell me why?"
Peter didn't answer him. Instead, he pushed himself up on his elbows and scanned his surroundings. MJ was standing a few feet away from the two, her thumb pressed against her lip in worry, and the clock in the corner behind her read three forty-five in the afternoon. Middle of decathlon practice. They still had an hour or so left, then.
"Did I pass out?" he asked, at last. Was that why he couldn't remember anything? Was that why he was lying on something hard, instead of a soft cot in the nurse's office?
Mr. Harrington nodded. "Seems so," he replied. "But, um, don't sit up just yet." He set a hand on Peter's shoulder, the same way Ned had done moments ago, and pressed him down lightly. "You- You're lying on a table, and you don't have anything behind you. I don't want you to hit your head again."
"Do you want me to stay with him?" MJ interrupted. Her voice sounded closer, louder now, and Peter rolled his head to look at her. She was sitting criss crossed on the same table, her petite, tan fingers gently gripping his. "That way you can see if his aunt's outside, and we can let him rest for a little bit."
"Yes, that- that is a good idea, MJ." Mr. Harrington pointed his index finger at her when he was nearing the end of his sentence, and Peter held back a laugh. Mr. Harrington was his favourite teacher, but, as much as he loved him, he wasn't really all that competent; and he wasn't really a great conversationalist. "Peter, follow her directions. I'm gonna go look for your aunt outside." He pushed back his chair and excused himself from the duo.
MJ chuckled and let her eyes drift over to her boyfriend once the man left. "Sorry 'bout that. No one's really sure what the protocol is now that they know you have a healing factor," she explained, "and this probably reminds him of the-"
"The spider bite," Peter finished for her. That whole experience seemed like a lifetime ago, but he still remembered it all too well. Ned and MJ were there, and one moment he was fine, looking at all the experimented-on insects and arachnids behind the closed jars, and the next he was throwing up blood, telling Ned he couldn't breathe, and fainting on the field trip. Mr. Harrington had been at a loss and was so panicked, he ended up calling an ambulance. "Good times." He nodded.
"Yeah..." MJ trailed off. She squeezed his hand and gazed at him with shockingly soft eyes, before offering up a hopeful smile. "So, how're you feeling, dork? Aside from all the..." She cocked her head. "...Passing out and stuff, of course."
"Tired," Peter mumbled. He left his eyes drift closed momentarily. Though his unclear vision had more or less subsided, his ears were still ringing and he felt absolutely exhausted. "I wanna go home. Go to sleep." He yawned.
Michelle shook her head. "Can't do that yet. We don't know why you passed out yet, so, until we do, you gotta keep those eyes open." She then paused for a moment before adding, "or, at least until May gets here, anyway. Then, ya know, your life is in her hands and, if you die, we don't have to worry about that being on us."
Peter snorted, his eyes now open. "'M not gonna die."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, kid," a voice suddenly stated, and Peter rotated his head so he could take a look proper look at the figure walking into the room. There, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, was Tony Stark, his mentor and father figure.
"Mr. Stark?" Peter questioned, confused. This had to be all a weird dream. Tony had never, not once, picked him up from school- or, if he did, he certainly never walked into the building. Usually, if he was sick or injured, and May couldn't make it, Happy would be sent to get him- it was part of the deal they created with May, after an incident that started with a nosey reporter, and ended with Peter having a severe sensory overload. "What are you doing here?" He sat himself up, and MJ helped by resting a hand on his back. "I thought May was coming to get me."
"She was supposed to," Tony confirmed, with a nod. Several feet away from the three, Peter could hear Ned telling Flash "Dude, you aren't even asking the questions right!" and Mr. Harrington trying to calm the rest of his classmates down. "But her shift got extended by an extra hour, and she told me to come get you. Didn't wanna leave you alone while you might be lying on your deathbed."
"But..." Peter raised an eyebrow. "What about Happy?"
"Had some errands to attend to," Tony told him. Though the vagueness wasn't really needed, because Peter had a feeling he knew what the so-called "errand" was. May and Happy had been dating for a while now, and Happy had mentioned something here and there about proposing and getting his blessing. Peter wasn't completely sure if he was serious at the time, but he knew how happy (no pun intended) May was with him, so he had given it to him nevertheless. "Anyway, are you ready to go, Underoos? Because Morgan's at her dance practice, so I have a few hours before I have to be back at the cabin, and I want to get you checked out by Brucie-Bear first."
"Yeah." Peter shook his head in a show of agreement and threw his legs over the side of the table. However, despite going slow, the teenager didn't get very far, as his knees buckled as soon as his feet hit the floor. "Woah." He blinked away the dark spots taking over his line of sight.
"Peter!" MJ shouted, her voice rising in pitch. She hurried off from where she was still sitting criss crossed on the table, and she and Tony sat Peter down on the bench surrounding it. Then, she took a seat next to him as well, and, pulling him close, wrapped him in a one-armed hug. "Dear lord," she muttered. Her tone was exasperated, but Peter could easily sense and hear the concern hiding underneath it. "Take it easy, nerd."
"Sorry." Peter whimpered. He turned his head and buried it into MJ's neck and her dusky, chocolate locks. "Don't feel so good."
Whatever MJ said next, after that, Tony wasn't one to hear it. Instead, he tuned out the two teens and let out a deep breath, before scrubbing a hand over his face. He had no idea how he was going to get Peter out of there. The kid couldn't even stand up without feeling dizzy and lightheaded, and he didn't bring a suit with him. That only left one option.
"Can you help me walk him to the car?" Tony asked the girl sitting beside his surrogate soon. The last thing he wanted was for Peter to pass out again, and he would've liked to get him to the tower sooner rather than later- just in case the cause of him passing out was some hidden injury.
Without a word, MJ nodded in response, and the two swung Peter's arms over their shoulders to help keep him steady as they walked out of the auditorium. Within a few minutes, they made it out to the car, and Tony turned to MJ once Peter was in the passenger seat, head resting against the window and eyes unwillingly fluttering shut.
"Thanks for all your help," he said, sincerely. "May really appreciates you taking care of him and I know I do, too. I'll tell him to call you later tonight, alright?"
MJ nodded and crossed her arms in an attempt to conserve some heat. It was beginning of December, but it was snowing like it was Christmas Day, and she was freezing since all she had on was a black hoodie from Hot Topic. "Thanks," she stated, "and I'll tell Ned to bring his homework over."
They made it to the tower within half an hour. As soon as he parked the car, Tony got out of the driver's side, and, sparing no time in letting Peter stand on his own, heaved his surrogate son out of the passenger seat. Peter, in return, whined quietly and muttered something along the lines of "Mr. Stark, I can take care of myself!" but Tony just rolled his eyes with an "I don't think so, kid."
Getting into the elevator took a while, considering the edges of Peter's vision were still blacking out a little bit, and the jolt from the small box made him sick and dizzy, but, luckily, they made it past without any incidents. The elevator came to a stop, and they hopped off at the eighty eighth floor, and went straight to the medical bay, where Bruce was waiting for them.
"Bruce!" Rushing into the room, Tony dumped Peter, head first, on the first available bed. Peter landed with an "Oof!" and groaned, but otherwise said nothing, and sat himself up. "Something's wrong!"
Bruce held back a laugh and the urge to roll his eyes. Friday had given him all the information before the two had arrived there, including a full list of symptoms and time-stamps to go with them, so he wasn't really too worried. Peter wasn't displaying any symptoms of the flu or common cold, such as a runny nose or sore throat, and wasn't concealing any hidden injuries, so he'd already eliminated some diagnoses.
"I can see that," he acknowledged with a polite smile. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, and, after deciding it was best to leave Tony to his frantic pacing in the corner of the room, turned his attention to Peter, who was sinking into the pillows. "So, Peter." He perched on the edge of the bed. "Tony told me you passed out at your academic decathlon practice."
"Mhm." Peter opened his eyes and nodded, and Bruce took note of his sunken eyes yet dilated pupils. "'S what my teacher told me."
"And have you been feeling sick or dizzy today?" Bruce asked. He took out a thermometer and placed it in Peter's ear in order to evaluate for a fever.
"No." Peter was going to shake his head, but then remembered that Bruce was trying to gauge his temp. "Just tired. Dizziness happened after I passed out."
"So you didn't feel dizzy before then?" Bruce removed the thermometer from Peter's ear once he was satisfied with what he found, and typed something into his tablet. In the background, Tony sighed quietly. He was getting impatient and just wanted to know if his kid was okay. "You didn't have any warning signs?"
"No, I... I dunno." Peter's voice raised an octave as his tone neared panic.
"His teacher told me that he didn't remember passing out at all," Tony chipped in. He was still pacing around the room. "But his girlfriend, Michelle, said he put the pieces together later on."
"Okay." Bruce nodded in understanding and set his tablet on the foot of the bed. As he did, Tony crossed over so he could stand beside Peter and squeezed his hand in a show of comfort. "I think I know what this is," he told the two, "but I need to do a blood test to be sure." He cast a nervous glance at Peter, like he knew what was coming.
As if on cue, Peter shook his head in refusal and leaped off the side of the medical bed. "No way," he responded. He already had to deal with passing out in front of his classmates. There was no way he was going to tackle his fear of needles in the same day. "I'm fine. Let's go, Mr. Stark." He wrapped his flannel jacket tighter around his chest and started towards the door.
Tony raised his eyebrows and, shooting his kid a (mild) pointed glare, grabbed his upper arm to stop Peter from leaving. "You are not going anywhere," he said, his tone leaving no room for arguments. "You couldn't even stand half an hour ago, and it's going to take five minutes, kid. Sit down and let Bruce do his job."
Peter heaved an annoyed yet overdramatic sigh and let Tony help him on to the bed again. Bruce wasn't paying attention to the two visually, as he was focused on prepping the syringe and hypodermic needle for the venipuncture, but he was listening to them and grinned upon hearing them interact with each other. He'd only met Tony when they were recruited to fight Loki with the rest of the Avengers, but having a kid - having Peter - seemed to make him happier, and he was glad for that. Happiness was a good look on him and, now that he had Morgan and Peter, it was one he was wearing more and more often.
Rolling his tools over on a bedside table, Bruce grabbed an extra pillow from one of the cupboards afterwards and shoved it under Peter's right arm. Then, once the limb was propped up, he tied a tourniquet around it and started cleaning the crook of Peter's elbow with an alcohol-immersed washcloth. "Peter, I'm going to take blood from your cubital vein, okay?" He explained the process in order to alleviate the boy's worries, although he knew that it, ultimately, would be pointless. Peter wasn't the only Avenger with a fear of needles and going over the procedure never helped. "It shouldn't hurt, and I'll be as fast as I can, but I do need you to tell me if you feel weird."
"Weird?" Tony raised an eyebrow while Peter looked over at the physician, eyes tired.
"Nauseous, light-headed; that kinda thing." Then, with his attention turned back to Peter, he added: "Just relax, and let us know if you're going to faint, okay?"
"M'kay." Peter nodded in response and had no problems following Bruce's instructions, as he lied back against the pile of pillows.
Giving Tony a knowing look, Bruce started inserting the needle and Tony tapped on Peter's hand in order to divert his focus from the procedure. "Hey, Pete." He called his name and brought the teen's attention to him. "Friday said you had a chem test. Do you know how ya did?" He asked the question in an effort to distract him.
"Probably not too good," Peter muttered under his breath, and Tony tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, puzzled. Chemistry, along with physics, was Peter's best subject. Of course, if he was sick, it'd make sense that he wouldn't do too well, but the boy was a literal genius. He could recite the periodic table in his sleep, and, although they hadn't gotten him tested yet, he and Bruce theorized he had an IQ of over or around two-fifty. It didn't make sense for him to fail an exam. "Was out late last night. Didn't get time to study."
Not knowing if that was an excuse or the truth Tony opted for a lighter tone. He was pretty sure Peter wasn't up for an interrogation at the moment, and the last thing he wanted was to stress him out more than he already was. He did pass out in front of his classmates and was conquering his fear of needles in one day, after all.
"Oh, yeah?" Tony joked. "What, too many cats to save from trees?"
Peter, though, either didn't catch on to the playful tone, or was too drained to go along with it. "No," he spoke. He blew out a breath of exhaustion. "More like too many charity events, Mr. Stark."
However, before Tony could ask what in the world he was talking about, because Peter hated press events (they always sent him into sensory overload), and that didn't make any sense, Bruce set the syringe and vial of blood aside, and tugged the tourniquet off of the teenager's arm. "All done," he announced. "I'll have Friday run that for a lab analysis, and we should get the results in ten, twenty minutes." He pressed a cotton ball to the inner space of Peter's elbow and tied it down with medical tape before smiling sympathetically. "But, for now, just close your eyes and try to get some rest, alright? Your arm will be sore for a while, but that should subside with time."
"Thanks, Bruce." Tony shook the man's hand.
"Thanks, Dr. Banner," Peter called after the physician. Soon after he left, the teenager's eyes fluttered shut and, once Tony heard the soft snoring come from his surrogate son, he reached for the baby blue blanket at the end of the bed and covered him with it.
Maybe Peter was telling him the truth when he said he didn't have time to study, or maybe he wasn't; Tony didn't know. But, he did know that he wasn't going to be able to get any answers out of Peter until he recovered at least a little bit; so, with that thought in mind, Tony pressed a kiss to the side of his mentee's head and, after running a hand through his hair, leaned back in his seat.
Peter was going to be okay.
When Peter woke up later that day, he was surprised to find that he wasn't in the med bay, but rather in his room at the tower. Glow in the dark stars dangled from his ceiling as vintage movie posters from The Day the Earth Stood Still and Fahrenheit 451 decorated his walls, and, if he squinted, he could even see Tony sitting in one of his bean bag chairs.
'Wait,' Peter thought to himself, 'that doesn't make any sense.' Sure, Tony had picked him up from decathlon practice and drove him to the tower earlier, but he remembered him saying something about him saying he only had a few hours to spare before he was needed back at the cabin. That had to have been hours ago, though. Why was he still with him?
'Oh, well. Only one way to find out.'
"Mr. Stark?" he called out, hesitantly. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Peter was pleasantly surprised to find that the dizziness and nausea from earlier were long gone; and, now that he was thinking about it, so was the ringing in his ears.
"Peter!" Head snapping up immediately at the sound of his kid, Tony scrambled to stand up from the bean bag chair. Only problem was, was that he was sitting in an awkward position with one leg crossed over the other, and the chair itself was half deflated. Finally, after two tries, though, he managed to escape the uncomfortable chair and, making a mental note to buy Peter a new one, crossed over the room. "How're you feeling?" He perched on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on the teen's knee. "Does anything hurt? Do I need to call Bruce?"
Peter took the questions into account and thought about it for a while. Truth to be told, he felt... relatively okay. Not a hundred percent fine, considering exhaustion was still radiating through every bone and muscle within him, and he still had a lingering headache, but close. He told as much to Tony, who merely smiled in response.
"Good." He let out a breath of relief. "We've been worrying about you, kid. Bruce came back with your results a few minutes after you passed out- he had Friday run a BMP, basic metabolic panel." He clarified the acronym upon seeing the confused expression on Peter's face. "-And, apparently, the diagnosis was dehydration and low blood sugar, with a grade one concussion. Luckily, we're already fixing it." He gestured to the IV, which sat in Peter's left arm, since his right was still recovering from the venipuncture. "Bruce has been supplying you with nutrients and fluids for a few hours now. He wanted to ask you the last time you ate or even drank something, but you conked out before he could." Then, after a beat, he asked: "Do you know the last time you've eaten, Peter?"
"Uh..." Peter blinked and wracked his brain for the information. If he was really being honest, he wasn't even sure if he did eat anything. He'd tried to, but his schedule was overflowing and always being needed, or on the go, made it difficult. He had school, homework, patrol, and, as of late, decathlon practice. Plus, even though his name was cleared and he had been declared innocent, he was still trying to make it up to the people of New York by attending fundraisers, charity, and press events. "I had a granola bar last night before bed," he offered up. "One of the oats and honey crunchy ones."
Tony scrubbed a hand over his face in exasperation, and Peter couldn't help but think he disappointed the man yet again. "Peter," he said, slowly. "You do realize that those granola bars are only a hundred calories, right? And that you need at least four thousand to function?"
"I know that!" Peter protested as he sat up, and Tony, in return, muttered an "easy, Underoos," before laying him down again. "And I've been trying to, Mr. Stark, but it's hard! I have school, patrol, and decathlon practice, and the people of New York are still expecting me to make it up to them and get back on their good side! I barely have any time to breathe, let alone eat!"
Tony ignored the last sentence, and decided to focus on the one in the middle. "Make it up to them?" He repeated the words, flabbergasted. "Peter, you are sixteen. The last thing you should be thinking about is making it up to people who harassed you. Do you not remember all the food being thrown at your windows? Or when that reporter got involved and sent you into sensory overload? Your ears were bleeding, and Bruce said you were lucky not to need surgery to fix it!"
"But they didn't know that'd happen!" Peter's shoulders shook and Tony placed a hand on his back as tears twinkled in his eyes. "I just want everything to go back to normal." He latched on to the man and allowed the tears to paint his face. "Nothing's ever going to be the same, Mr. Stark!"
Tony wrapped his arms around his kid and, after returning the hug, let out a soft sigh. He was a genius, the great 'man with a plan,' but he had no idea what to do and didn't have a plan in mind. He had never been in this situation, and he certainly never had to go through this shit. When he donned his armour and took down Stane, Pepper planned the perfect cover-up, but she wasn't with him; she was back at the cabin, hosting a sleepover for Morgan and her friends after dance practice. Plus, not only that, but he didn't even follow her orders; he announced to the world that he was Iron Man himself, and there wasn't any supervillain who was hellbent on ruining his reputation involved.
Needless to say, he didn't know how to fix this.
But, he knew that he would have to, so, after pulling apart from the hug, he laid his mentee down in the bed again, and ran his hand through Peter's cocoa-coloured curls. Then, he met Peter's tired, bloodshot eyes with his own and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You rest," he said to his son. "Let the IV do its job, and Bruce will check on you in a little bit. I'm going to talk to May, okay? I don't know if she knows about this, but she's going to have to, and I don't think you're going to do anymore press events for a while, bud."
Peter nodded listlessly, his energy spent. "Thanks, Mr. Stark," he replied, and Tony acknowledged the statement by pulling the comforter over his shoulders. "I'd really like to take a break."
Tony nodded and, already planning to call Peter out of school for the next few days, turned the lamp off on the bedside table. Peter's eyes were slipping shut, as the sleepy teenager stared at him, and Tony didn't know how he got so lucky with this kid. "You deserve one," he agreed, sincerely.
Thanks for reading! I'm open to requests and make sure to leave a review if you liked this fic!