A/N: Ya'll know how vague this fic is. But here is some more dramatic feels for you irondad lovers, should you wish it. Lots more hurt/comfort, just to warn. I am not sure there will be anymore chapters. It was just purely for A4 reasons that I wrote this to begin with. So without further ado, the "kind of" conclusion to this sappy hospital ficlet.

Peter and Tony have some closure together.

…..

The morning brings a whole new set of problems.
Whatever progress Tony had made with Peter, hours prior, were stolen away with its early light.
The pouring rain on the hospital window and the even beep of the machines they have Peter hooked up to are the only constants Tony can rely on.
The teenager's dilated pupils stare up at him in terror as his tape covered chest rises and falls at a sprinter's pace.

The older man's hands move in to comfort, but Peter's body gives a violent jerk when he does.
'We're back here again,' Tony realizes, tasting the misery on the back of his tongue.
He presses anyway, setting the tray of rice pudding on the rolling table next to the bed and making his movements slow and obvious as he sets himself down on the bed.
Peter whines, loud and angry, only strong enough to move his head side to side in an attempt at letting Tony know he wasn't having any of this…
…this 'pretending you're alive' stuff…
…this 'you're back and everything's fine now' crap…
…this 'trust me' garbage…
The teenager still isn't ready to believe. He's barely ready to live another day…and this wasn't 'Dream' Tony standing here before him now…which means he isn't safe…not really…because Mr. Stark is dead! He's dead and he left his kid to fend for himself…
"Pete, buddy-buddy-easy," the imposter begs.
"G-way," Peter begs back.
"What?"
"Go awa-"
Tony backs up just a hair, ignoring how the two slurred words seem to burn him from the inside out. "I can't, kiddo…alright?…Don't ask me to do that."
The billionaire is so patient…watching Peter's restless eyes finding a way out where there wasn't one…as if they could walk out on their own if given the chance.
He hates this…hates it so much…and now the doctors were coming…
They were both out of time.
"Peter, you don't have to look at me…but could you just try and eat a little more for me this morning?…Please?" he continues, running soothing circles over the blanket instead of the boy's hand. Your aunt and I talked with the docs and they're not satisfied with your progress, buddy…They wanna…they're gonna do whatever it takes to fill up that belly of yours."
Nothing.
Not a nod…a protest…movement…
And something in Tony snaps just then, desperation taking the wheel as he climbs up further on the bed and lifts his charge part way in to his lap.
He settles within himself to ignore the sounds coming from Peter's lips and the squirms that barely rival a newborn's as he slides the table of food towards him and grips a spoon of the rice pudding in his free hand.
The billionaire is nothing like he was yesterday.
No coaxing…no gentle murmurings…just a stubborn will he hoped would surpass Peter's as he shoves the metal utensil in to the kid's mouth.
It shouldn't have come as a shock when rice spews in his face the very next moment, but a helpless feeling washes over him and it only pushes his fruitless agenda further.
Tony brings another spoonful to the teen, but this time Peter fights harder, throwing his head back and grabbing the spoon with a weakened fist, the little bit left sliding between his fingers and on to Tony's shirt.
"That's enough!" Tony shouts, "You eat this right now, Pete or I swear-"
The spoon falls down to the floor, and even Peter looks surprised when it does.
"You want them to stick a tube down your nose…poke a hole through your stomach? Huh!?"
Tony's anger cracks when Peter's face twists in to a sob, knowing he's planting more fear in a heart that's already been overrun with it. "…cause that's what's about to happen, kid!" he says, voice softening.
The doctors come in with their equipment as he finishes the sentence and Tony throws the food down and pulls away. Peter's fingers twitch, eyes darting to the five strangers moving to stand around him as they pull the curtain across the room.
The head nurse feels the tension and works to bring some composure to both patient and guardian. "I know you were really determined to avoid this, Mr. Stark…but I promise, this is a very simple procedure," she starts, " Many kids need assistance with feeding at this hospital, and once we get his energy levels back up, he can go back to eating on his own." she pauses to press a stethoscope to Peter's chest, listening for any abnormalities as she smiles down at him, "Let's just get you out of this critical state, okay?"
This time it's Tony who refuses to look at Peter as he listens to the others tear open new medical equipment and prepare syringes of saline and sterile tubes.
Tony remembers waking up with a tube in his nose while lying half dead in Afghanistan and it makes him nauseous to think about Peter being awake for this.
He isn't keen on the other three medical students hovering over to watch his kid's torture either, but it's happening. He would have to bear it…this was something he couldn't protect Peter from.
The teen can't fight them off as they circle around him…instead Tony has to endure listening to pathetic little spider-baby sounds coming from behind the wall of white coats, and it only takes one of them to hold the boy still.
Tony grinds his teeth…Spiderman should be able to take down everyone in the room if he so chooses…
…at the very least, the pitiful noises he's making are enough to drive Iron Man to do it for him…
"Okay, Peter, real quick, alright? You're going to feel this go in to your nose and it's gonna be a little icky, so try to swallow a lot if you can, okay?"
Here comes the panic.
"Here we go."
As the tube slides up and in to Peter's nose, the boy coughs and gags when he feels it sliding down his esophagus. "I Don' wan'-," he whimpers.
"Hang on, Peter. You're doing a fantastic job," the nurse comforts as she carries on in her tasks.
"Sto'-Sto'-" Peter squeaks out, "M'st Sta'!"
Tony can't ignore it, dashing over upon hearing his muffled name. He stands at the head of the bed so he can grab the sides of Peter's face and stroke his cheeks.
Peter makes another gagging noise and Tony brings his lips down to the boy's forehead, running his thumbs under the teens ear lobes and down his jawline.
"My Petey," Tony murmurs, carrying on with gentle kisses to Peter's forehead. " I know, it's no fun."
The teen can't even cry, just silent sobs with the occasional squeak and it breaks Tony's heart.
"Almost done," the nurse says.
When it's finally over, Peter returns to his limp state, gaze drifting off somewhere where his mentor can't follow.
Tony presses their heads together and Peter's eyes close. His body continues to shudder from exhausted sobs as they tape the little tube to his left cheek to keep it in place.
"Okay, we'll start him up on the treatments right away, but if he wants to eat or drink anything, it's perfectly okay to feed him soft foods. Just watch him carefully," the nurse says before shooing the rest of her team out the door.
Silence fills the space again but Tony keeps his head on Peter's…both of them utterly still for a time.
"Pete…will you look at me, sweet boy…please?"
He's undone when those puppy eyes finally decide to connect with his.
"I'm really here. Tony's here now."
"M'st Sta…"
"Yeah, your Mr. Stark is here to stay…"
Tony leaves his thumbs near Peter's eyes to catch the flood that follows.
The teen chokes, a strangled sound bursting from his lungs as he excepts it as truth…let's it pour over his heart like alcohol on an open wound.
It hurts. It hurts.
"Breathe, sweet," Tony coaxes, "Take some deep breaths…in through the nose, out through-good-that's it. Keep going."
Peter does and the billionaire feels his own tears ready to make their entrance, "Hey…Pete…" he whispers, "I love you…and I'm so sorry…so, so sorry…"
His tears fall on Peter's face and he uses his sleeve to wipe them off.
The watery confession doesn't quite hit the mark as exhaustion takes over his charge's features.
"…cold," the boy mouths, and Tony knows without a shadow of a doubt that this was Peter for 'hold me.'
Grabbing the blanket at the end of the bed, he takes extra precautions around the new tube, as well as the other wires draping over ribs protruding just enough to set Tony's paternal instincts in to overdrive.
He wraps his boy up as best he can, before lying down beside him and tucking unruly curls beneath his chin.
A few squeaky moans escape against his chest and Tony shushes them with whispers and back rubs, heart swelling when Peter's fingers cling on tight to his cotton tee.
He's out in under a minute, little snores tickling the billionaire's neck as a nurse returns with the first bag of formula.
"Oh," she coos, setting the syringe and other items down on the blanket. "Let's see if I can do this without waking your little burrito."
"I believe in you," Tony whispers back, making the older woman blush from head to toe.
As the nurse pulls the blanket away, Peter stirs but stays asleep as she tugs at the tube until the end of it pops up.
Tony watches her every move, knowing he could very well have to take over should the need arise.
She fills the syringe with the formula and slowly lets the creamy substance pass through until it's all gone.
"He'll sleep a lot better with his tummy having something in it," she says with a smile.
As she leaves them alone once again, Tony settles down for a nap with his boy, making sure the blanket's wrapped around every part of his charge's skin before closing his eyes and feeling a long-awaited peace return between the two of them.

….

A/N: Fin. I hope you enjoyed the angst.