Tony was tinkering in his workshop, pursuing some questions about using nanites with his suit on a larger scale, when his AI interrupted.
"Boss? Karen reports an Excessive Impact alert. She said Peter was blasted into a wall by an unknown weapon, and is currently unconscious."
Tony's heart rate spiked, and he immediately dropped what he was doing. "FRIDAY, suit!" Crap. It was his fault the kid was even out patrolling tonight. They had finished their work on May's car earlier that morning, and Peter had slowly been driving him crazy all afternoon. Just fidgety, and a little hyperactive, and having trouble focusing on things that would normally interest him. He'd finally realized the kid hadn't been out patrolling since Thursday, which was three days ago.
Tony had started learning that when Peter didn't get enough physical activity in, he sometimes started drifting into the "annoying teenager" stereotype. So Tony had encouraged him to go out as Spiderman that evening, promising he wouldn't feel abandoned, and that there would be Thai food waiting when he got back. Besides, what kind of villains were doing their best work on a Sunday evening?
Suited up in less than a minute, Tony blasted out of the building, directing FRIDAY to set his course for Peter's location. If Peter was unconscious, he could very well be vulnerable to whatever low-lifes shot him in the first place.
"FRI, status report."
"Karen reports he is still unconscious, but she doesn't believe any of his injuries are serious"
"Is he safe? Is anyone messing with him?"
"She said he fell quite a distance away from the criminals, in a somewhat inaccessible place. She can hear voices nearby, but the perpetrators have not discovered him."
"Well, thank heaven for small favors," Tony grumbled to himself. "ETA?"
"Three minutes." Ugh.
Finally, Tony reached Peter's location. He spotted the three men, with what looked like a cannibalized Chitauri mish-mash that must have caused the issue. They seemed to be trying to figure out where Spiderman had fallen. He landed behind them and immediately swiped the gun before they could try to use it on him. He didn't have the luxury of Peter's nearly-silent entrances.
"Well, what have we here? Pretty sure you don't have a license for this." Tony resisted the impulse to turn the weapon on the creeps who had knocked out his kid, but it was a close thing. The main thing that saved them was thinking how disappointed Peter might be if he gave in.
He set the gun up on top of a building for retrieval, then made quick work of catching the criminals, who thankfully weren't smart enough to split up while trying to escape. But then had to figure out what to do with them. He didn't have Peter's webs for immobilizing them, and didn't normally capture anyone. His strengths involved blasting things he didn't want to survive the encounter.
He finally had FRIDAY locate a cop car nearby, and delivered his captors there, basically just dumping them with a quick explanation. Probably not the most thorough way to make sure justice was served, but he needed to get back to his kid. The clock was ticking, and he still didn't know how badly the boy was hurt.
He reached Peter easily in his suit, and found the kid sitting dazedly against an (apparently) very solid wall, a hand to his head. The mask was still on, but Tony very much wanted to see the kid's face to see how he really was.
"FRI, anyone in the area? Can I take off his mask?"
"You're clear, boss. I'll implement continuous scanning."
Tony carefully grasped the top of the mask, and pulled it off, revealing Peter's confused face. He could already see some bruising on the right cheek and temple, and the kid's pupils were blown wide. Ugh, probably another concussion. Fantastic.
"Hey, Roo. You're looking a little rough there," Tony said softly, crouching down as well as he could in the suit. "How's your vision?"
"Mmm," Peter responded, sounding pained. "It's been better. Been worse, too, though. Who's Roo?"
Tony grimaced. "You are, Underoos. Any nausea? Anything broken?"
"Not too bad, and I don't think so. Just hit a wall pretty hard. Did they get away? They had a big ugly-looking gun…"
"Which should have been your cue to swing the other way, Spiderling," Tony said in frustration. "Yeah, I got 'em. FRIDAY? Full scan."
A moment later, his AI reported, "Other than the head injury, nothing of additional concern. Lots of bruising and two cracked ribs on the upper right side. The concussion seems to be fairly intense though, and an exam in medbay is recommended."
"That's what I figured. Can you call Helen and ask her to pretty please meet us there?" He should probably give her yet another raise…
"No, 's not that bad, Mr. Stark. I can probably just sleep it off."
Tony hummed, noncommittal. "Maybe so, but we're going to get a second opinion. Yours is crap."
He very carefully scooped the Spider-kid into his arms, and used a more sedate speed getting back to the Tower. Peter still threw up on his boots as soon as they landed. Peachy.
That night, after Peter had been examined and pronounced okay to go "home," (he was staying in the Tower that weekend while May was out of town) Tony watched him carefully as he got comfortable on the couch. Tony had just supervised while he ate a decent dinner (had to ensure his healing was in top shape), pushed a little more water than Peter actually wanted, then waited nervously outside the bathroom while the boy took a quick shower and changed into pajamas. Now he wanted the kid settled before he got ready for bed himself. Helen's scans had shown the concussion was, indeed, severe, but was already healing. She recommended close monitoring for 24 hours, and told Tony what to watch for, but didn't anticipate any complications. She thought his ribs would also be good as new in a day or two. Crazy spider super-healing.
"You're hovering, sir," Peter complained with no real heat as he lay down on the pillows. I'm down, and I'm not going anywhere. Go do your stuff. I promise, I'm fine." Then, hopefully, "Can I watch something?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "You heard Helen. No screens tonight. You're lucky you heal quickly, or it would be 48 hours. I already texted Aunt May for you," he said, patting his pocket where Peter's confiscated phone rested. Peter scowled at the reminder.
"What am I supposed to do, then?" he nearly whined.
"Well, you could sleep," Tony said, an eyebrow arched.
"It's like 9:30," Peter protested.
Tony ignored him as a thought came to him. "FRIDAY, give Peter some audio book choices, please," he said as he left the room. He could probably even sleep in his own bed, but he'd feel more comfortable if he was in the same room as his concussed protégé. Even for Spiderman, head injuries were no joke. Good thing he'd sprung for a comfy sectional.
When he returned fifteen minutes later, favorite pillows in tow, Tony recognized the first chapter of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe . Kid had good literary taste, at least, and he'd read that one enough times that it shouldn't keep him awake. He settled next to Peter's head and pulled his Starkpad out.
"You're going to flaunt your tablet when I'm not even allowed to look at my phone?" Peter sighed dramatically.
"Spider-babies with broken heads don't get electronic privileges," Tony said lightly, unconsciously moving his hand over to brush the "broken" head lightly.
Peter hummed in appreciation, and closed his eyes. Remembering how soothing the boy had found a hand in his hair when he had sensory overload a couple months previously, Tony began to gently slide his fingers through the kid's dark, still-damp curls.
"That's 'mazing," Peter slurred, turning slightly more onto his side to get more comfortable. Tony smiled, glad he could do something the kid actually appreciated.
"Thanks for coming to get me," Peter said more articulately. "And for taking care of me tonight. You di'n't have to."
"It's no problem, Pete. I'd appreciate it if you'd use a little better judgment the next time someone points a questionable… or, any gun at you though, hmm?
"I'll work on that, sir."
Tony continued to touch the kid's hair softly until his light snores let Tony know he was asleep. Then he let his hand rest on the boy's side, drawing some kind of comfort from the slight rise and fall of his injured ribs. He thanked his lucky stars tonight had turned out as well as it did, and hoped it was the worst problem they had this month. Week? Yes, with Peter's propensity for trouble, he'd even take this week.