Peter stirs to a half-whispered argument some time later.
"-can't believe you didn't tell him, Tony. What did you think was going to happen?"
"That was exactly what I was afraid of, Bruce," Tony hisses back. "That's why I didn't tell him. And Morgan- God, she was so upset, and I just- I can't tell a six year old that I prioritized raising her over being a hero. She's not going to understand."
While some part of him knows they're not standing right above his head and shouting, with the pounding headache he has comes a dangerous chance of sensory overload, and damn if it doesn't sound like they are.
He'll have to tell the doctor, he supposes. He doesn't have much choice if he wants appropriate medical care. Still, the thought of it makes him decidedly nervous.
Part of him knows what happened earlier was an overreaction. Yet he feels oddly justified in it, given everything he's been through, and considering Tony's own reaction, he couldn't have been too far off his rocker if the response had been exactly what he was expecting. He isn't proud of it, but… he can't say he doesn't feel that way. Like they were left, like the Avengers have been ungrateful, like they don't actually care. He doesn't honestly think he's too far off the mark with some of them. And okay, accusing Tony of basically using him for money was… ridiculous, after knowing who he was, but he hadn't known at the time, and it wouldn't be the first time it happened to him.
He should apologize. For some of it, at least. Tony has reasons for not being an active hero anymore, and he had given him the suit, even if Peter hadn't known that until today. He was trying to help in the little ways that he felt he could, Peter could see that now. Plus the money thing might have been a little more insulting than he'd realized, knowing what he did now.
As if on cue, the second voice - Bruce - blurts, "I think he's waking up."
There's a slight shift against him, and Peter realizes as he opens his eyes slowly that Tony is still laying with him, holding him against his side. The elder hero offers him a smile smile, looking a little abashed. "Hey, kiddo. I didn't mean to wake you, but you didn't seem like you wanted me to leave, and, uh, Bruce and I needed to talk. Sorry."
Peter blinks, surprised at the apology. "I… don't know why you're sorry. I woke up on my own. And... you're not obligated to stay with me." He vaguely recalled sticking to the man again, but he hadn't actually asked him to stay, had he? He hadn't meant to. Why would he have obliged anyway, after the way Peter had freaked out on him? "And if anybody should be apologizing, it's me. After the way I freaked out-"
"Nuh uh. I'm going to stop you there," Tony interrupts, holding up a hand. "You shouldn't be sorry. Everything you said was true. And you're well within your rights to be upset with me. But for right now, we're going to pause this conversation, because you have a visitor. Alright?"
Peter lets out a small breath, but nods. This isn't an argument he's going to win right now. Nor is it one he really wants to have with one of his childhood heroes listening in. So he just nods as Tony gestures to the doctor that he now realizes is standing at the foot of his bed, turning his attention to him.
Doctor Banner looks… strikingly like a normal doctor, except he's pretty small and almost as nerdy looking, kind of like Peter is, although probably in a more attractive way. Peter takes in his nervous stance, the way he moves slowly and deliberately, and instantly realizes that he knows about his fears. This is a man who has experienced exactly the same thing he's afraid of, and for some reason, the thought makes him relax a little.
"Hey, Spidey," the doctor greets softly. "Tony called me to come check you out. You gave him quite a scare. Do you mind if I look at you? I won't do anything without asking you first, I promise." He hesitates at the foot of the bed, waiting for him to agree before coming any closer.
Peter frowns. "I- yeah, sure, but…" he looks at Tony. "You didn't tell him…?"
Tony shakes his head. "I told you, I didn't tell him anything except that you crashed in and that you were hurt. Your name is yours to give away."
"Oh." His voice sounds small, even to his own ears. Well, if that doesn't make him feel like a fool… "Well, uh, I'm Peter, sir. Thank you for… coming to help me." He offers him a weak smile.
Bruce smiles back, stepping up to the bed. "Of course, Peter. I'm always here if you need help, okay?" He puts a hand on his shoulder, and at Tony's prompting, he realizes he needs to sit up and lets them help him up. "I'm just going to do a basic check up first, then we'll talk about your injuries. Do you want Tony to stay?"
Peter hesitates, glancing at the elder man. "I… uh, if he wants to." He's nervous, admittedly, but he doesn't want to ask him to stay, and he's less scared now than he was before.
Tony just gives him another one of those sad smiles and squeezes his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to, Peter. I am going to stand up so I'm not in Bruce's way, though."
Peter nods, and Tony slips off the edge of the bed as Bruce approaches again. He stays there the whole time, quietly attentive as the doctor runs through a basic exam.
Everything goes well until Bruce starts checking his injuries, particularly the arm and leg that were broken. He makes a pained hissing sound through his teeth that makes both of their heads snap up. "How bad is it?" Tony asks.
Bruce sighs, stepping back. "Won't know until I get an x-ray. But it's going to need rebroken, at least. The arm too."
Peter groans. "Of course it does," he mumbles, running his hands through his hair. He expected this, for sure, but that doesn't change the fact that it's going to hurt like a bitch.
Tony seems to sense his distress. He comes back over, putting a hand on his shoulder. "This is why I wanted to get it looked at. I know this sucks, but we'll give you something for the pain, and-"
"You can't," Peter interrupts. He looks down, chewing his lip. If he's going to tell them about his enhancements, it's now or never. "And… you'll have to set it quick."
They both stare at him. "Well, obviously, but- are you refusing pain meds?" Tony raises an eyebrow at him, obviously bewildered.
"No, I-" Peter makes a frustrated noise. "I can't explain it, okay? I don't understand it. I just- I heal really fast. Or at least I normally do. And pain meds don't work on me. Not for long, sometimes not at all."
Tony's brow furrows. He looks at Bruce, who seems to be thinking hard. "The only time I've ever encountered that was with Steve. Is it possible…?"
Tony straightens, a muscle in his jaw jumping at the mention of the other man. "He's not anything like Rogers," he says with a sense of finality.
Bruce throws him an exasperated look. "Tony, I'm just saying it's possible that they have similar metabolisms. Do you have any of the enhanced painkillers left?"
He huffs. "Maybe around here somewhere. But this hasn't been headquarters for ages, and I don't exactly carry them."
"Me neither, but I can get some pretty quickly." He sighs. "It's fine. Just- if I don't make sure we're not wrong about this, we could kill him. Do you care if I take some blood, Peter?"
Peter can't help but make a face. He's always hated needles, and recent experiences have done nothing to remedy that. But on the other hand, they've also basically desensitized him to the easier stuff, and who knows when he'll have this kind of opportunity to learn about his full capabilities again, so… "Yeah, go ahead."
The next few hours are spent between the Medbay and the lab.
Peter is put through basically every kind of machine and testing they can do without hurting him - everything from x-rays to bloodwork and so much more. Bruce does manage to dig up some painkillers that work for him from somewhere - not enough that it doesn't actually hurt, but enough to dull the pain after the fact enough that he can sleep.
When he wakes up, it's to the sound of the door creaking open, just loudly and quickly enough that he knows it's not one of the adults.
"You can come in, Morgan," Peter calls to the girl, and that's when she stops peering from around the edge of the door and steps inside for real.
She closes the door slowly, and he can't help but be amused at her attempt at being quiet and sneaky. "You're not supposed to be in here, are you?" he asks, not accusingly, but still gently admonishing.
She shrugs, turning around so that he sees for the first time the paper and the bowl she's holding in front of her. He also notices the fact that her cheeks are still puffy, even if the immediate redness around her eyes has faded. She pads over and hands them both to him silently.
He sits up against the pillows, taking them from her. "Thank you." He looks back down at her, where she stands at the edge of the bed, looking at him, her brown eyes wide and unsure. He bites his lip. He knows she witnessed way too much of the fallout between him and her father, and he can't help but feel guilty. He really had tried not to freak out in front of her, but at some point everyone has to break. Or at least that's what he's going to tell himself to pretend that it wasn't completely unreasonable.
Either way, it wasn't something she needed to see, and he has some explaining to do. "I… do you want to sit with me?" he offers, scooting over a little to make space for her.
To his surprise, she nods, climbing up on the bed and settling against his side. He's sore, and it's not the most comfortable position for him, but she's not putting pressure on any of his major wounds and he revels in the contact and the trust too much to ask her to shift even slightly.
Instead, he drops an arm around her, stirring his soup and waiting patiently for her to talk.
Finally, she does. "Happy said you can't eat real food, so we made soup, but no one brought you any because you were busy," she murmurs, her voice small compared to all the personality she'd had when she visited him before. "And… I made you a picture, but I couldn't give it to you earlier, either."
Peter blinks, picking up the paper he'd set down in favor of the soup and actually studying it. The sight makes his chest grow warm again. It's from a coloring book, yes, but… it was him, in his suit, swinging between buildings. His first thought is confusion - how did I end up in a coloring book? - but it's quickly followed by affection when he notices the scribbles of love and well wishes at the bottom. She's even gotten Happy to sign it - whoever that was.
"Thank you, Morgan. I love it," he says honestly, looking down at her.
She cracks a smile for the first time since entering, looking up at him with wide brown eyes. "Really?"
"Of course."
"You like being here? With me?"
His brow furrows. "Of course," he repeats. "You're my favorite kid." She's the only kid he's been around in years, except for work, to be fair, but that doesn't make it any less true.
She seems to consider this. "But… you didn't seem happy to be here last night."
His stomach plummets. "Morgan…" He sighs. He knew they needed to have this talk, yes, but the words and the knowledge of how he'd somehow managed to hurt a child he'd only talked to a handful of times - a child who, despite that, had somehow managed to convince a total stranger to save his life and let him keep his identity secret - still hurt.
He knows he's caused her - and Tony, too - enough emotional turmoil, so the least he can do is be honest and try to fix some of the damage he'd caused. "Listen, kiddo," he begins softly, squeezing her shoulder gently. "I… It's not an excuse, but I've been through a lot in the past couple years, okay? And so… yes, your dad lied to me, and yes, I was upset by it. But he did it to protect me, because…" he hesitates, looking down. But he knows he has to say it, because it's true. "...I was being unreasonable," he admits at last. "And last night, most of what I said was still unreasonable. But I freaked out. Mr. Stark didn't actually do anything wrong, and… he was helping me, I just didn't know it. So don't be mad at him because of me, okay? If anything, you should be mad at me."
Morgan nods slowly, looking down at her tiny hands in her lap for a moment before finally looking up at him. "Okay," she agrees. "But… I'm not mad at you, either."
Despite himself, he relaxes at the acceptance from the little girl. "Thanks, Mo."
She beams up at him, wrapping her little arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly. He forces out a pained breath silently through his teeth, hugging her back. "I just don't want you to go," she murmurs, so quietly he almost doesn't hear it with the way her face is tucked into his stomach. "But I don't want to keep you here if you don't want to be here, either."
"Oh, Mo…" Peter softens, clutching the young girl tighter despite the pain it causes him. "I do want to be here, I promise," he says into her hair. And it's true, now. He knows he'll have to leave eventually - billionaire superhero or not, he can't stay here and live off of Tony's generosity forever. Even if he would let him, he could never be content that way. But he knows he's not going anywhere for another few days, at least, until he's managed to heal his broken limbs well enough to move around on his own. "If I didn't want to be, I wouldn't be." This is also true. If he really wanted to be, then he would have figured out at least an attempted plan of escape by now. But somewhere in the middle of everything, any thoughts of escaping had disappeared.
She just smiles a watery smile up at him and hugs him tighter. He presses his face against her hair, holding her for as long as she wants to be held. Even though it aggravates his wounds, he finds that he doesn't mind. Despite only talking to her maybe three times now, at some point he'd also started to adore this little girl. And though that kind of scares him, he can't say he regrets it.
The door swings open again some time later. "Morgan-" Tony's voice, low and frustrated, is audible even before the man fully steps into the room. When he does, and he sees the sight in front of him, he stops dead.
They're both still laying together on the bed. Morgan is still wrapped around him, sound asleep with her head still tucked against his stomach. He's laid back down, arms still draped loosely around her, and his own eyes closed, but they flutter open at the sound of the door opening. Peter looks back at him and offers him a tired smile.
Tony huffs, running a hand down his face. "Shit. I'm sorry, Pete. She didn't wake you up, did she?"
"Nah," Peter lies. Tony just raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing him, but he speaks again before the elder man can voice his doubt. "It's fine, really. I'm glad she came in. I wanted to talk to her anyway."
Tony nods, though he still looks skeptical as he steps closer. "About…?"
"About earlier," Peter admits. He looks down. "I… I was way out of line, Mr. Stark. And I made you look horrible in front of her, for no reason other than my own stupidity and paranoia which you did nothing to deserve-"
Tony raises a hand to stop him. "That's enough, Peter. The only thing that's out of line is what you're saying now." He settles on the edge of the bed, letting a hand rest on Peter's newly-casted leg. "I lied to you, and that's on me. Yes, I had reasons, but that doesn't mean my reasons weren't shitty. I just…" He stops, looking down and shaking his head a little. "I was so afraid you'd run," he admits. "I knew if you really wanted to you'd find a way out, and I could have tracked you down, sure, but I didn't want to have to do that to do. I wanted you to trust me of your own accord. And after you told me what they did to you, because of me…" He trails off, smoothing a hand down his face again. "Kid, I should have told you the truth before. But hearing that… it got to me more than I wanted to admit. I'm so sorry. For all of it."
"Don't be," Peter says immediately. "It wasn't your fault. I knew the risks when I started the whole hero gig. And I know you helped as much as you felt like you could. Honestly, if it was me…" He looks down at the girl sleeping in his arms and shrugs. "I wouldn't have wanted to risk it either. You got lucky, Mr. Stark. I would have taken that and ran with it too."
It's silent for a few minutes. When he looks up again, Tony is looking at him with sad, tired eyes. "How many did you lose?" he asks quietly.
Peter looks away again. The pain of it still makes his gut twist to talk about - maybe because he's never really had anyone to talk about it with before. "Family? Just one," he answers, equally quiet, feeling almost as if it's wrong to raise his voice above a whisper when addressing the ones who'd gone missing, regardless of the circumstances. "My aunt. But she was all I had. My friends…" He stops, shrugging again. "All of them. But I only had two to start with, so…"
Tony nods. Something in him breaks even further at the confession, as if he needed more confirmation of how broken the kid was. "So you've been alone, all this time?"
Peter avoids his eyes, looking down at Morgan again instead. "Yeah, for the most part. I've stayed with people on and off, done some side jobs to get by, but… mainly, yeah. It's not as bad as it sounds, though," he adds quickly. "I mean, no one ever made me do anything I didn't want to do. Except when I was abducted, but, y'know, that's a different story entirely-"
"Wait a minute. Just- hold on. You're not seriously implying what I think you just did." Tony looks up, and for the first time, from the corner of his eye, Peter can see that he looks a little angry.
He flushes. Okay, maybe. He's done some things he's not proud of, but… he did what he had to to survive. There shouldn't be any shame in that. "Well, I guess that depends on what you think I'm implying," he mutters, but his blush answers for him.
Tony groans. "That's- wrong on so many levels. Jesus, kid. Were you even legal?"
"Legality is the last thing on a lot of people's minds, Mr. Stark." Another dodge, but another one that is clear enough to answer the question for him.
Tony makes a low, frustrated noise instead of commenting. "Christ. I can't even- and stop calling me that. I already told you to call me Tony." He stands up. "Look, kiddo. I just want you to know you don't have to worry about that anymore. Not now, not ever."
Peter frowns, looking up at him for the first time in several minutes. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that-" Tony stops, seemingly rethinking whatever it was he was initially going to say. "It means you have a place here," he says at last. "And while I can't make you stay, I'll be damned if I let you go back to whatever hellhole you've been living in. Just- we've got time to talk about it. Promise me you won't go making any hasty decisions, okay? That you'll stay until you're better and we get to talk. No more lies, no more games, no agendas. I just want you to focus on getting better and we'll go from there. Agreed?"
Peter considers this for a long moment. Then he looks at the girl in his arms, back to Tony's earnest, open face, and he nods. "Agreed."
"Good." Tony comes up to the head of the bed. "I'll get Morgan off to her bed, then, and then I'll bring you some fresh food. Sound fair?"
He considers saying that Morgan can stay, that he doesn't mind her there, because he doesn't, but she's also laying on his already sore body and he can't eat this way, anyway. "Fair enough," he agrees, lifting his arms away from the girl so Tony can lift her off of him.
Tony takes Morgan and leaves. As promised, a few minutes later he returns with a fresh bowl of soup and an offer of company.
Peter is inclined to take it, but he's already taken enough of his time. Besides, this day has taken an extreme physical and emotional toll already, and once he starts eating and realizes how hungry he is, he manages to have two bowls of soup. By the time he gets that all down, all he wants to do is sleep again, his body demands rest to re-heal his bones and knit together his wounds, and properly this time.
Peter finds he doesn't have much choice but to oblige. Between the exhaustion of this day and the fact that he's more comfortable and at peace than he's felt in a long time, he drifts off to sleep almost immediately.
It's the best rest he's had in almost six years.