Title: My Favorite Weakness (is You)

Summary: Somebody help this kid Please and Thank You

Rating: T (for violence)

A/N: Quarantine has given me time to begin this new hobby of writing, so please let me know what you think! This fic is just getting started :) P.S. I just saw that new movie with Chris Evans, did you catch my reference?


- Chapter Three: Knife's Out -


"Peter!"

Peter looked up to spot Happy, and stood up from where he was leaning against the brick wall. His injury had already stopped bleeding, and he assumed that was a good thing, since he wouldn't go into the low-blood-volume shock that he'd once heard about. He walked towards the car.

"Get in," Happy got out and walked around the car to open the door. Happy paused when he actually turned to look at him, worry written within his features. Peter paused, looking down at himself. He noted the dark, wet looking spot that had taken over the majority of the upper half of his suit. He looked back at the car. "Get in," Happy repeated.

"It'll stain the seats."

Happy looked even more bewildered after that comment; he looked almost tongue-tied. Almost.

This time he spoke slower and more direct. "Get in the car now, we can replace the seats later."

Peter looked up at him. "Are you sure?"

Happy sighed, "of course I'm sure, I said it, didn't I? Now hurry up so we can get you to the tower. Alive."

Peter got in, and Happy closed the door behind him and went around to get in. Peter was hurting too much to say anything to Happy on the ride; his shoulder was throbbing, the pain radiating out. He tried to zone out, think about something else, to distract his mind from all the pain; but every time he was able to focus on something, they'd hit a bump or Happy would say something. He could tell Happy was worried, because Happy never encouraged conversation. As they got closer, Happy actually said something softly that no one with normal hearing would have been able to hear, that caused him to worry.

"Just what he needs right now."

Peter's breath caught; was Mr. Stark ok? Was Peter intruding again? Would he be mad Peter got hurt? Mr. Stark had mentioned that he felt like Peter was his responsibility. What if he thought Peter had been irresponsible? After all, it had been pretty stupid how he'd gotten hurt from the same wound twice. Would he take the suit away again? Peter tried to sit up more. Happy made eye contact with him in the rearview mirror.

"You still holding in there okay?" Happy sounded worried, and Peter wanted to stop that.

"I'm doing better," Peter said. That part was true, he thought, since the bleeding had stopped. "It doesn't hurt as bad." That part was a lie. Happy used the red light stop to look at him in the mirror. Peter held the eye contact, swallowing down a throb of pain and focusing on keeping his breathing steady. Happy didn't say anything and shook his head, but Peter wasn't sure if he believed him or not.

Peter must have been out of it, because it seemed like time jumped from him sitting in the car to walking through the Avengers' Tower's back door. Once he was aware enough to realize where they were, he was surprised that Happy had brought him to the tower at all and not to the hospital or some private medical practice center. Peter put his mask back on even though Happy said he didn't need to - they were in a private section of the tower, but Peter insisted. Happy walked with him in the elevator that was closed off to the public and lower level staff and employees, and brought them up. Peter had no idea where they were going, he'd been in the Avengers Tower no, it was Stark Tower now, before, but never further than the front lobby where he and Ned had gone in just to look around at all the important-looking people and gape at the fancy interior design.

He may have been "out of it" for the most part, but he didn't miss the concerned side-glances that Happy was shooting his way, more specifically in the direction of his contorted shoulder. Peter could feel that something was very wrong with his shoulder (if his inability to move his entire right arm didn't give it away), and decided to try and not think about it. He tried to imagine instead what kind of school nurse Mr. Stark had hired for his Avengers- no, Stark Tower.

The self-distraction must have worked, because the next thing he knew, a wave of pain was waking him up to Happy standing above him. Wayyy above him- Happy wasn't that tall... Peter blinked. Why was he on the floor?

Happy was talking really loudly on the phone. Peter groaned and shakily sat up. Searing pain coursed through his shoulder. Happy noticed his movement and squatted down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was still talking on the phone to to someone.

"Yes, no, uh-huh, he is, yeah right now, I'm with him, he is now, we're on the med bay floor by the soiled linens room... Alright, see you in a minute."

Happy turned his attention back to Peter. "They'll be here any second."

Peter nodded. "I'm fine."

Happy scoffed, "sure you are, you both always are."

That didn't make sense to Peter, so he didn't say anything. A low throb had begun to rise in his head, and the lights seemed to be getting brighter around him. He closed his eyes to block out the light, but Happy protested.

"Nu-uh. Keep your eyes open, just one sec-" the elevator doors dinged open, and noise filled the space around Peter. He kept his eyes closed, which was good, considering information decided to flood his senses all at once. There were multiple people talking - did they have to yell? Peter was sure they were jumping rather than stepping; and something was rolling on the floor, someone was writing something and the intermittent scratching noise of an old ball-point pen dug its way past his ever-growing throbbing headache and into the back of his skull. He clamped his hands over his ears, and someone used his flexed arms to grab ahold of and pull him to a standing position before seating him in what he guessed was a wheelchair. He could still hear everything that was being said through the pulsing of his blood through his hand, which may not have been so bad if he could make it out, which he couldn't because there were multiple conversations going on in might have included the entire floor above or below them.

They wheeled him somewhere and assisted him onto a bed. When they tried to pry his hands off of where his ears were hidden under his mask, he protested: "the lights," which didn't quite make sense, apparently, because the lights stayed bright and the noise grew.

He felt a prick in his neck, and then the noise and the lights dimmed, followed quickly by his thoughts and his consciousness.


"Boss, I have an urgent message from Happy."

Tony didn't look up from what he was working on. "What part of not bothering me don't you understand? Because I need to fix that."

Friday ignored the question. "He says it's an emergency."

"I hired him for emergencies, he'll be fine."

Friday paused again. "He says to tell you it's concerning 'you-know-who' and that your presence would be greatly appreciated in the medical wing."

Tony kept working; "they have enough medicine and DNA in that lab to create another Cap, much less fix the old one. Now please refer him to someone else, you were doing so great there for a while."

Friday left him alone, but the silence was short-lived.

"I'm sorry Boss, Happy insists that I tell you in his words that this medical emergency is concerning 'Spider-Man, who is not, for your information, a captain but actually a kid and I swear Tony if you don't-"

Tony stands up, interrupting, "where are they?"


The first thing Peter's aware of is the most annoying beeping sound he's ever heard. And the more he tries to find some other, any other noise or sensory distraction to focus on, the louder it becomes.

The second thing he's aware of is that there's another pair of lungs breathing in the room. He turns his head, but can only see darkness. He squints, confused, and realizes he can't open his eyes. The beeping increased a little bit as his fear spiked. He tried to move his hand to his eyes, but his arms felt heavy, like they were waterlogged, and he wasn't sure if they moved at all. He tried lifting both arms up, which resulted in a sliver of pain sliding from his shoulder through his chest.

Eventually he conceded, and his arms relaxed again. He tried to swallow his fear, causing him to cough weakly.

A voice cut through the air, "Peter?" The sound surprised Peter and was gone again too fast for his brain to register whose it was.

Peter's voice was weak but strained; "I can't move."

The voice was louder this time - maybe closer. It was someone he knew. "You're waking up from sedation, you'll be able to move any minute now."

It didn't make sense to Peter, how was this okay? "I can't open my eyes!"

This time Mr. Stark spoke. Or had he been speaking the whole time? "It's okay, the sedation's wearing off. Any minute now you'll be able to. Or second, considering how fast your metabolism burned through those meds."

Peter tried to figure out how any of that was related to his current problem, but couldn't. He clenched his hands, ignoring the pain that threatened to spike if he moved his right arm any further. "I can't open my eyes," he repeated, in distress. He felt a tear roll down his cheek and turned his head, trying to hide it despite not knowing which side Mr. Stark was standing on.

"Can I take your mask off?" Peter paused, registering the question and trying to make sense of it.

"What?" What mask? Where was he?

"Your mask. You're still wearing it. Happy apparently insisted you wear it throughout the procedure, to protect your identity, said you would've preferred it."

Peter took in this information. So he was wearing his mask; of course he was - he could feel it now. Why did that matter?

"So may I take it off?"

Right, he'd forgotten about the question. "Sh- sure."

He felt a hand reach his neck and slide it off. He instinctively tried to reach a hand up to help, but although his arm could now move a little, it didn't quite make it to his face. The room still didn't get any brighter as his eyes failed to open.

"See, you're moving already." Maybe Mr. Stark was trying to be encouraging, but he still couldn't open his eyes.

Peter didn't speak for a minute, and he heard Mr. Stark sit back down somewhere in the room.

"What procedure?"

"What?"

"You said they left the mask on for a procedure. What did they do to me?"

"They took a knife out of your shoulder."

"Oh." Everything flooded back to him then. He felt caught up on his life, besides not knowing where he was.

Peter heard Mr. Stark let out a quick breath, a laugh.

"What?" Peter asked.

"Oh, nothing, I just doubt your aunt will respond so casually when she finds out the news."

Peter blinked his eyes open and found Mr. Stark, making eye contact in an attempt to shoot his best glare at him.

"Don't tell May. Please."

Tony smiled, "Honestly, she's much scarier than you."

"Please, Mr. Stark!" Tony stood up, stretching, causing Peter to wonder how long he'd been sitting there, how long he'd been out.

"Okay, but promise me you will."

Peter stared at him. "Okay."

"I'll take that as a yes. I'm gonna let the doc know you're awake, so she can talk to you."

Tony pressed two buttons on the display next to the door. One of them opened the door, and a lady walked in a few seconds later holding a clipboard and a StarkPad. She looked at Peter and stopped in the doorway.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly, then continued walking in, giving Tony a meaningful side glance; "or rather 'good evening.' It's Saturday evening, in case you haven't been oriented yet. My name is Dr. Cho; how are you feeling?"

Peter stared at her. He'd realized too late that his mask was still with Mr. Stark, who was standing by the entrance now. He spotted it in Mr. Stark's hand. Dr. Cho followed his gaze and turned back to Peter saying, "don't worry, I won't tell anyone your secret, not that I'm allowed anyway with my practice. I'm here because I'm trusted both as a doctor and as a person." He saw Mr. Stark nod in agreement in the background for only him to see.

Peter relaxed, and sat up further in the bed.

"I don't know."

"You don't know how you feel?"

Peter paused, looked again at the mask in Mr. Stark's hand, and all of a sudden felt the need to downplay this assessment if he wanted to get the suit back. He needed to act mature.

"I feel fine. Where am I?"

Dr. Cho kept her attention solely on him; if she felt the skeptical look Peter could see Mr. Stark giving him (which Peter didn't doubt she could), she didn't show it.

"You're on the medical wing of Stark Tower. Do you feel any pain?"

"No." No, besides the fact that his right arm and entire chest felt like it was burning from a fire coming from his right shoulder after using it to sit himself up.

"What about in your shoulder?"

"No."

The doctor paused, looking at something on the StarkPad. Her eyebrows went up, but she responded like she believed him.

"Okay, that sounds good. You should expect some pain upon usage, and I don't know how long it would last. You burned through the sedation serum faster than expected, despite giving you an adult dosage," she paused, and Peter got the feeling that it wasn't for him, but she caught his eye and went on, "so if you let me know when it hurts I can make sure you get anesthetics. Pain reducer medications. Which we would have to dose especially for you, since you burned through the anesthetics about 12 hours faster than we'd anticipated."

Peter quickly glanced at Mr. Stark. "Okay, thank you. I feel fine, though."

Dr. Cho smiled, "and that is good to hear."

Dr. Cho assessed his shoulder, agreeing that it looked much better, insisted to let her know if it hurt, and answered any questions he had. Eventually she got all the info she needed, and left the room, depressing a button on the door panel on her way out.

Peter and Mr. Stark stared at each other for a moment

Mr. Stark broke the silence. "Alright kid, where does it hurt?"

"It doesn't."

"You just woke up from a surgery where they had to cut open your shoulder to remove a metal knife. Your shoulder isn't even done healing yet. There's no way it doesn't hurt."

"It doesn't. Maybe it just looks worse than it actually is."

"You got stabbed."

Peter shrugged, an action he immediately regretted. "May says that life is 90% what happens to you and 10% how you respond."

"And I say that you were 100% stabbed, 100% on your way to having a much worse prognosis, and 100% a bad liar."

"That's 300%, Mr. Stark."

"And yet only a fraction of my problems."

They resumed staring at each other, both waiting for something to happen.

Peter went for it. "May I have my suit back?"

"You may have my suit back when I'm done fixing it."

"You said it was mine!"

"And you broke it."

"It was an accident!"

"Yeah, about that-"

At that moment, Happy appeared in the doorway. Having heard their banter from the hallway and now spotting Peter awake seemed to cause Happy to revert back to his same old annoyed self. "Tony, have you even looked at your phone? You have 52 unread messages, and each one of those have been redirected to me when you've chosen to ignore them! And that's just since you've made yourself reachable again!"

"And I trust you handled them appropriately." Tony thanked him, in his dismissal kind of way.

"I can't 'handle' people who are still downstairs waiting to speak to you."

"Why'd you let them in?"

"Because they technically live here now, Tony, and if you-"

"Let's not talk business in front of the kid," Tony interrupted.

Happy took the cue and looked back towards Peter. "So I'm on babysitting duty again."

Peter had a million questions, but he played along. He was grateful to Happy, anyways. "You know you love me."

Happy shook his head as Tony pulled out his phone to send another call to voicemail. "It's all part of the job," Happy muttered.

Tony clapped his hands and stood up; "well, I'll leave you two to it. Squirt says he's feeling all fine and dandy, but if you pick anything other than sunshine and rainbows up, call me."

"So you can send me to voicemail," Happy responded.

"One of my favorite pastimes."

Peter protested, "you're leaving? But I haven't been discharged."

Tony paused. "Happy here can fix all that up for you, he can call the Doctor back in here if he needs to. And unfortunately, I do have problems waiting for me downstairs."

"Oh." Peter tried not to let his disappointment show.

On his way out, Tony turned to him; "I'll have your suit ready within a few hours. But you can't go out until you're actually better, regardless of if you're feeling fine."

Tony gave him a pointed look that said Tony saw right through him. Peter gave a weak smile and nodded.

Happy and Dr. Cho assisted Peter on final assessments, checking medication levels, and more tests to make sure he could function at home, swallow and not suffocate, keep his balance, what signs and symptoms to report, and some other things. Dr. Cho said she'd be interested in doing further bloodwork and research on Peter's metabolism so she could provide specialty care in the future, if he ever was interested. Peter thanked her profusely, to which she replied that he should come back if he needed to but to take care.

Happy dropped him off at home, and Ned met him 20 minutes later, where they caught each other up on the day's events.


Author's Note: I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks for any feedback! More to come! Happy thinks Peter's like a mini-Tony, do you?!