Thank you so much for your patience with no update last week! I hope you guys enjoy this one. :)

As always, thank you to stjohn27, my awesome prereader and sounding board.

Holy shit, this hurts! Tony thought, his face screwing in pain as his mind swam back into consciousness, the starchy feel of hospital linens beneath him and the sharp scent of strong disinfectant flooding his nostrils only adding to his overall sense of irritation.

Why the hell am I in a hospital? I hate hospitals!

With a soft groan, Tony flattened his palms against the scratchy sheets, intending to try and push himself up into a more upright position. But he'd only managed to move about two millimeters before the piercing pain in his chest forced him to abandon that particular course of action, and he slumped back against the pillows with a stuttered gasp.

"What the—?"

"Don't try moving around just yet, Tony," Pepper commanded, her voice soft but stern. "The doctors say you're supposed to be resting. You've been out for almost a day."

"Yeah," Tony croaked. He still hadn't managed to open his eyes. "But can ya please tell Thor to get his goddamn hammer off my chest? 'Cause it really fucking hurts!"

"That's because it's cracked, Tony!" Pepper said, a bit louder this time. "Your sternum is cracked, and since you've had so much other trauma to your chest over the years, the doctors had to go in and wire it closed, and—"

"Okay, okay," Tony interrupted, peeling one eye open to look at Pepper, who was sitting on a chair by his bedside. "I get the picture."

Pepper huffed out a sharp breath as she glared at him. "Do you? I certainly hope so, Tony, because—"

"Because, what?" Tony snapped. "You think I tried to go and cause a fight with a fucking Chitauri-winged goon just for the hell of it? That Vulture asshole was gonna kill Peter, honey! I had to—!"

"He tried to kill you both, from what Steve and Rhodey told me," Pepper said, her lower lip twitching. "And he very well might've succeeded if—"

"If Pete hadn't saved me," Tony finished. He stifled a shudder, remembering that dreadful feeling of horror when he saw Peter clinging desperately to the underside of the supply plane. The way his heart nearly stopped when he saw Peter's hand slip free from his web rope and he fell, directly into Tony's arms.

What would've happened if Tony hadn't been there? What would've happened if Ned hadn't called him in a panic from the Homecoming dance, worried because Peter wasn't answering his phone and going on and on about how Peter had told him he was some kind of superhero and needed to go stop this bad guy—his friend's father, no less—so he could prove to Tony that he could be an Avenger?

Peter would very likely be dead right now. And Tony right along with him, if not by Toomes' hands then from a completely shattered heart, far beyond the hope of any world-class surgeon or state-of-the-art arc reactor.

Shaking her head, Pepper leaned closer, wrapping her small hand around Tony's and placing his thumb over the button of his automated pain-killing medicine pump. "I thought it was bad enough with just you trying to play superhero," she said. "I'm not sure how I'm gonna be able to handle it with the both of you."

"Pete's not gonna be playing superhero just yet," Tony rasped, squeezing his eyes closed as he attempted once again to sit up a bit straighter. "At least not until Steve and I sit him down and talk to him about this. He may have super powers now, but he's still just a kid."

"Yes, he is," agreed Pepper. "But he's also a kid with a heart bigger than New York City who just wants to help people, Tony. I can understand his motivations, even if I'm not ready to admit how grown up he's become."

Tony inhaled a deep, slow breath. The more upright position at least made it easier for him to breathe. His lungs hadn't ever been quite the same since Afghanistan either, and the throbbing pain down the center of his chest wasn't helping his lung capacity at all.

"Speaking of Pete, where is he?" asked Tony a moment later. "You guys got him checked out too, didn't you?"

"Peter's with Steve, sleeping in one of the spare on-call rooms down the hall," Pepper said. "And yes, Steve and Sam insisted that he get checked out when we brought you here, and he was fine. He's got quite a few bruises and one cracked rib, but everything had already started to heal by the time the doctors saw him, so he should be fine in a couple of days."

A brief flash of panic raced across Tony's groggy mind. "Steve didn't tell the doctors that—"

"Steve told them that Peter fell off his bike," Pepper said reassuringly, patting Tony's hand. "He knew you didn't want to reveal anything… more than necessary."

"No sense in anyone knowing besides us," Tony said as he breathed out a slight sigh of relief. "And Ned, I guess, although I made sure to tell him that under no circumstances is he to tell anyone about what Pete told him. Not even his parents."

"That's a pretty big secret for a fifteen-year-old kid to keep from his parents, Tony," Pepper said warily. "Do you think it's fair of us to ask that?"

"Not too concerned about what's fair right now, Pep," Tony said, wincing as he attempted to shift his position. "Goddamnit, this hurts!"

"Well, I suppose a cracked sternum isn't supposed to just tickle, Tony," Pepper retorted, squeezing his hand. "The doctor who did your surgery said it was a miracle that your heart wasn't further damaged."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Tony. "Just one more reason to get working on that Extremis armor. I can't let myself be caught inside a suit with no power source ever again, Pep. Especially if Pete's gonna be starting with training, I just can't—"

"Extremis?" Pepper asked, her eyes wide. "You don't mean that stuff that lunatic Killian shot into me all those years ago, do you? Tony, you kept that? What on earth for?"

"You never know when something might be useful, honey!" Tony protested. "It really is fascinating stuff, and I think in the right hands it could—"

"Could what?" Pepper demanded as she yanked her hand away. "Could turn you into a human torch? Tony, what are you thinking? There's no way you can—"

"I'm thinking that I can never be stuck inside armor without a functioning power source ever again!" Tony snapped, groaning as a fresh wave of pain rippled across his chest. "Pete could have died, Pep! Right there in front of me while I laid there, sprawled flat out and helpless in the fucking sand, and that is something that I cannot allow to happen again! Not ever!"

Pepper pursed her lips. "Then why did you tell Peter to go after that guy? He told us you gave him permission!"

"The guy's wings were already starting to fall apart, honey," protested Tony. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, trying to take slow, deep breaths through the throbbing pain in his chest as he pressed the button on his painkiller pump, releasing more fentanyl into his bloodstream. "And neither Pete nor I wanted him to get away. Asshole already knew who Pete was, and I—"

"He what?" Pepper exclaimed. "How did—?"

"It's a long story, Pep," Tony said, smiling when Pepper reached for his hand again. "But, yeah, Toomes knows Peter is Spider-Man, which is one of the many reasons why he's gonna go the hell away for a helluva long time."

Pepper was silent for several moments, her thumb rubbing back and forth across Tony's knuckles. "I still don't like the idea of you wearing another… device," she finally said. "But I guess—"

"It'd be detachable," Tony interrupted. "Just a housing unit, so to speak, if that makes any difference."

"I'm not sure that it does," Pepper continued. "But I suppose if Peter's gonna be out there with you guys now, then—"

"Not yet," insisted Tony. "Not until he gets some training. And not until Steve and I, and you, all put the fear of God into him about going out alone. Chasing after bike thieves is one thing. Trying to stop bank robberies, with or without advanced, alien-tech weaponry, is definitely another."

"And me?" Pepper asked. "Why me?"

"Why not?" answered Tony, quirking an eyebrow. "You're pretty much Pete's mom, so—"

"But I'm not, Tony," said Pepper, her voice trembling. "I mean, I'm not officially, and—"

"Pete loves you like a mother, honey," Tony said softly, his lower lip twitching. The fentanyl was starting to kick in, causing his head to feel even more foggy, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. "You know he does. And I know you love him."

"I do," Pepper said immediately, nodding. "I do, Tony. I always told myself that I never wanted kids. I never thought it was for me, but yet—"

"He kinda just wormed his way in," Tony whispered, squeezing her hand. "Didn't he?"

"Yeah."

"Pete has a way with doing that, doesn't he? I haven't met any decent human yet who could resist him for too long."

"He's very special, Tony," murmured Pepper. "You both are. The way you are with him, ever since the beginning… there's no way I would've guessed it was possible all those years ago."

"Yeah, I was an asshole," Tony said, a slightly maniacal laugh escaping from his throat. "Truth be told, I was still pretty much an asshole when he came along. I'm not exactly sure how you were able to put up with me."

"It wasn't easy," Pepper said, winking. "Especially after—"

"Yeah, yeah, we don't need to get into details right now, do we?" Tony murmured. "Besides. There's more important things we need to talk about before I pass out again here." He inhaled a deep, slow breath as his heart started to thud. This was something he should've done a long, long time ago.

"Like what?" asked Pepper, her eyebrows knitting together. "You're pretty looped up on painkillers right now, so I'm not sure we should be discussing anything too import—"

"Will you marry me?" Tony suddenly blurted out. His jaw dropped as his own brain caught up with his words, his heart pounding wildly against his cracked breastbone as Pepper's eyes went as wide as saucers.

"What?" she asked, incredulous. "I swear Tony, if this is a joke, it's not at all—"

"It's not a joke, honey," Tony insisted. He squeezed his fingers around Pepper's small hand, clearing his throat. "I am absolutely and completely serious about this. Will you marry me?"

Pepper tilted her head, eyeing him suspiciously. "Okay, you're really doped-up on pain meds right now, aren't you? That's where this is coming from?"

"What? No! Well, maybe a little," Tony mumbled, his lips stretching into a wide smile. "But, no, this isn't at all a joke. Honey, I love you. I always have and I always will, and I wanna marry you. You can even ask Pete if you don't believe me. I've had a ring picked out and ready to give you for so many years now I've even forgotten where I've hidden it a couple of times."

Pepper sucked in a sharp breath. "You have?"

"Yeah, I have," answered Tony. "I've even had Happy carry it around for me at times, thinking I'd work up the nerve to finally ask you, and—"

"And it took you nearly dying, again, to finally work up the nerve?" Pepper asked, her voice rising with every word. "Oh my God, Tony, what am I going to do with you?"

"I guess so," Tony murmured. "That and some pretty powerful painkillers, apparently."

"Tony!"

"So, what do you say?" he asked, his breath catching in his throat. Oh God, what if she says no? "Will you marry me? I mean, I really should have the ring with me, and I probably should be kneeling down or something, but I'm fairly certain if I even attempted to get out of this bed right now that I might just fall flat on my face, and I really don't think that'd be such a good idea, so—"

"Yes," Pepper whispered.

Tony's mouth immediately went dry, and he licked his lips. "What did you say? 'Cause if you said yes but didn't really mean it, I forgot to tell you before I asked that there's no take-backs, so—"

Pepper bit her bottom lip, her beautiful blue eyes filling with tears. "I said yes, Tony. I will marry you."

"Oh dear God, thank you!" Tony rasped, slumping back against the pillows as he closed his eyes. Slowly, he brought Pepper's hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "You have no idea how much trouble you've just saved me by—"

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

"Nevermind, hon, it's not really important now." A small peal of laughter bubbled up from Tony's chest, followed directly on its heels by another rush of pain. Why the hell does laughing have to hurt so damn much? "Did Steve really manage to get Peter to go to sleep in a hospital on-call room? How the hell'd he do that, hypnotize him or something?"

"Huh?" Pepper asked, briefly shaking her head at the verbal whiplash. "Good grief, no! Peter got hungry during your surgery, so one of the surgical team members brought him some food from the cafeteria. He ended up accidently eating a few bites of some peppermint ice cream before he remembered he wasn't supposed to eat it anymore, so—"

"He what?" Tony exclaimed, wincing. "How'd he forget something like that?"

"He was already practically asleep on his feet by then, Tony," answered Pepper. "He just wasn't thinking clearly. Steve managed to stop him before he ate the whole cup, but he was already feeling queasy by then, so—"

"But he's okay now?" asked Tony, rapidly losing the battle with the fentanyl coursing through his veins. He could barely keep his eyes open now. "Did he get sick?"

"Just once," said Pepper. "Steve took care of him, got him cleaned up, and then the nurses offered the on-call room so he could rest. There's a shower in there and everything. Peter's fine, Tony, I promise. Steve's in there with him, drawing while he sleeps."

"Silly kid," Tony grumbled, his words slurred like he was drunk. "Should've known better. Peppermint and spider DNA is not a good mix. He's lucky he only threw up, it could've been much worse."

"Silly like his dad," Pepper said softly. She leaned over, softly trailing her fingertip down Tony's cheek before pressing her lips to his forehead. "Sleep now, Tony. Peter will probably be here by the time you wake up."

"Mmm," mumbled Tony. "'Member, no take-backs. You're stuck with me now, honey. Like, for good."

"No take-backs," whispered Pepper. "Sleep now."

"Hello!" Peter screamed, helpless as the massive mountain of rubble lying on top of him shifted yet again, crushing his body even further into the destroyed concrete floor. "Hello! Is anyone there? I can't move, I'm stuck, I need help!"

But there of course was no answer. Peter had gone to that isolated warehouse to confront Toomes completely alone, and while FRIDAY knew where he was, Toomes had made sure that there would be no way for Peter to contact anyone when he smashed his phone to smithereens. There was no way he could contact FRIDAY, no way to tell anyone that he was slowly being crushed to death.

Peter was completely and totally alone. It was like the Expo all over again, after Ben and May were killed and the drones had finally been destroyed. When he spent three days hiding underneath an abandoned food truck because he was too afraid to show himself to the first responders combing the area.

"Hello!" he screamed again, choking as his lungs felt as though they were filling with dust, the very movement of his chest to scream causing the rubble to shift even more. "Please, I don't wanna die!"

"I don't wanna die! Not all alone!"

"Wake up, Peter," a kind voice said as a calloused hand carefully brushed the sweaty hair from his forehead. "You're not alone, I'm here with you."

"Please! Please help me!"

"You're having a nightmare, Peter," the voice repeated, a bit louder this time. "Wake up!"

With a strangled gasp, Peter opened his eyes, shivering from the thick layer of sweat coating his body as he looked into the concerned blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

"Steve," he rasped through chattering teeth. His eyes flitted nervously around the tiny room, trying to get his bearings. Where the hell was he? "Oh, hey."

"Hey, kiddo," Steve said softly as he drew the thin blankets up to Peter's shoulders, rubbing his hands down Peter's arms to try and warm him. "It's okay now. You're safe here with me."

Burning hot tears stung Peter's eyes, and he buried his face into the pillow, trying to hide them from Steve. "Yeah, okay. Thank you."

Steve's brow furrowed in concern. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked after a short moment of silence. "It sounded like a pretty bad nightmare, Peter. Were you trapped somewhere?"

Peter let out a squeak, burrowing his head further into the covers, which smelled strongly of industrial-strength detergent. "I don't—, I don't know. It was—"

"Peter," Steve said slowly. "Did something else happen to you with Toomes? Were you trapped somewhere? Because if you were, then I need to know so we can tell the police."

"I don't wanna tell anyone!" Peter cried, shaking his head. "Mr. Toomes is already in jail, isn't he? So why would it matter?"

"It matters because it's you, Peter," said Steve. The bed dipped as he sat down next to Peter, gently stroking his hair. "And you and I both know that Tony would want to know if something else happened to you."

"He's got enough to worry about," Peter said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "He's gotta get better, Toomes almost killed him."

"Well, if I had to guess, it sounds like he tried to kill you as well, Peter," Steve said firmly. "And if that is what happened, then I really need to know. The police told me that Toomes destroyed his warehouse before he went after the plane. Were you there when it happened?"

Peter's entire body shuddered, his nose pressing into the pillow so hard he felt like he was suffocating all over again. "Yes," he whispered, so softly that only Steve would've been able to hear him. "I was."

Steve's hand froze for a second, then resumed combing through his hair. "Okay. Can you tell me what happened?"

A single tear slipped down Peter's cheek, dropping onto the pillow. "I figured out he was gonna try and attack the supply plane, so I thought—, I thought I could stop him. But then he activated his wingsuit, and I just assumed it was gonna come after me, so I flipped out of the way, but then it flew through all of the support columns in the warehouse, and then… the ceiling, it collapsed… and—, and—"

"Oh my God, Peter," whispered Steve as he gathered Peter into his arms. Peter wrapped his arms around Steve's broad chest, the sound of his strong heartbeat filling Peter's ears. It wasn't as good as Dad's; Steve's heart rate was too slow and the sound was much deeper, but it was still comforting, especially in this moment. "Why on earth didn't you say anything?"

"It didn't really matter at the time," Peter mumbled. "Dad was hurt, and I wanted to make sure he was okay, and that all the stuff got picked up that Toomes tried to steal, and—"

"Peter," Steve admonished. "You need to stop thinking that everyone else's needs are always more important than yours. You've been like that ever since I've known you, and while it's very noble of you, it's not always a good thing. Do you understand? No amount of equipment is worth more than someone's life, especially yours."

"Uh huh."

"Mmm," Steve said skeptically, patting his back. "I know this has to be painful for you, Peter, but I really do need you to tell me what happened. It's very important that you do, okay?"

"Can't I go see my dad first?" Peter asked, fresh tears stinging his eyes. "I haven't seen him since he was in surgery, is he okay?"

"He's gonna be fine, Peter," answered Steve. "He's sleeping right now; Pepper was in there with him for awhile."

"Oh," Peter said with a shiver. "That's good."

"You're still not quite yourself after that ice cream mixup, are you?" Steve said sympathetically. "I should've paid closer attention to what they gave you, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, Steve," said Peter as his stomach did a flip and he shivered again. "I should've looked too. I was just so tired, and—"

"Scared," finished Steve. "I know you were, kiddo. We all were. When Tony got Ned's call, I've never seen him—"

"Ned called my dad?" interrupted Peter, lifting his head up to look at Steve. "When?"

"After he couldn't get a hold of you," Steve answered. "He told Tony that he tried calling you twice, but you never picked up."

Peter pursed his lips, ducking his head back down against Steve's chest. "I was down in the warehouse then… and Toomes… he saw my phone, saw Ned's face on the screen. It's how he figured out who I was, and that's when—, that's when—"

"Peter," Steve interrupted, his voice low. "I need you to tell me what happened."

Inhaling a deep, shaky breath, Peter nodded against Steve's chest. "Okay."

"Good," murmured Steve. He ran his hand down the length of Peter's back, sending flashes of warmth across Peter's body. "Just… take your time, there's no rush."

With a lot of fits and starts, and more than a few tears, Peter managed to tell Steve the entire story, starting with when he realized that Toomes had been casing the supply plane at the Tower before the Homecoming dance and ending with how Toomes smashed Dad's arc reactor and dropped him from ten stories up. Steve was quiet the whole time, only offering the occasional word of encouragement or a sip of water. Steve had perfected the art of listening a long time ago, and Peter had never been more grateful for it than he was on this night.

"Okay, Peter," he finally said once Peter was all talked out. "First of all, I cannot tell you how brave you are. I can't think of anyone else who would've even tried to lift up all those tons of rubble, much less succeeded."

"You would've," Peter mumbled. "I know you would've. You flew a plane into the ocean, so—"

"I wasn't only fifteen years old when I did that, Peter," Steve said gently. "That was a completely different situation."

"But I panicked!" Peter cried. "I screamed and cried for help, just like a little kid! I panicked more there than I did during the drone attack at the Expo! When I was seven!"

"Peter, you were buried alive, I would've panicked too!" Steve reassured him. "And that is nothing to be ashamed of. And while you're not a little kid anymore, you are still a kid. You're still growing and learning how to react to different things, and it's completely understandable to panic in a situation like that."

"But—"

"But nothing," Steve said firmly as he handed Peter a tissue. "The fact that you panicked isn't the problem here, Peter. What I'm concerned about is the fact that you thought you had to confront Toomes alone. You know the Avengers never go on missions alone, so why did you think you could?"

Peter let out a heavy sigh, dabbing at his leaky eyes. "I just wanted to show Dad… and you, I guess, that I could be an Avenger. Dad said I could maybe start training with you guys soon, and I guess I just got—"

"Impatient?"

"Yeah. And you know if I'd've told Dad about Toomes that he wouldn't've let me go after him."

"No, probably not," agreed Steve. "For a few reasons, not the least of which is the fact that he's a good father who wants to protect you from harm. There's no need to go looking for fights, Peter. There's plenty of fights that make their way to us. And when they do, we never go at them alone. We always have backup. A wingman, as Sam would say."

"Yeah, he would say that, wouldn't he," said Peter, his lips twitching into the slightest of smiles. "Are you gonna tell him about this too?"

"No, I'll leave that up to you and Tony," Steve said. "It's not my place to tell your story, Peter. But you know Sam would be able to help you, especially since you're having nightmares from it."

"Mmm," mumbled Peter. Everytime he thought that maybe the nightmares would start to go away, something else seemed to crop up. The Expo drone attack. The Battle of New York. Watching the Malibu house get blown to bits with Dad still inside it. Getting kidnapped by the Extremis soldiers. The memories of his birth father's colleagues experimenting on him. The Raft, and now Toomes and his Vulture-like wingsuit. Peter had had more than his fair share of nightmarish experiences in his short lifetime, and he was beyond tired of them already.

"Admitting that you need help doesn't make you weak, Peter," Steve murmured, as if he was reading Peter's mind. "It only makes you human. We're all human, even those of us who are Enhanced. And we all have our own set of strengths and weaknesses."

"I know," Peter whispered.

"And knowing and believing are two completely different things too," Steve said, ruffling Peter's hair. "But I suppose knowing is a step towards believing, so it's at least a beginning. Now, are you wanting to go back to sleep for awhile?"

Peter glanced around the tiny rectangular room, looking fruitlessly for a clock. "What time is it, even?"

"About three in the morning," answered Steve, checking his watch.

"I think I'd rather go and sit with my dad for a while, if that's okay," Peter said, stifling a yawn. "Pepper might've gone home to sleep, and I don't—, I don't want him to be alone."

"Pepper did go home about two hours ago," Steve said. "She texted me, said she'll be back in the morning."

"Then, can I go and sit with him?" asked Peter. "I won't wake him up, I promise. I just wanna be with him."

"I'm sure that's fine, Peter," Steve said. "Do you want something to eat first? You didn't keep all that much of your dinner down."

Peter grimaced, remembering the peppermint ice cream that had made him sick a few hours ago. "No, not yet. Maybe in the morning."

"Mmm, all right. But make sure that you do, okay?" Steve said gently. "You know what tends to happen when you go without eating for too long."

"Yeah, I know," grumbled Peter. None of the other Enhanced people ever pass out from not eating, so why do I have to? He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wrinkling his nose as the scratchy fabric of the scrubs he was wearing slid across his sensitive skin. One of the nurses had given them to him after he'd puked all over his own clothes, and while he was grateful to have clean clothes, he couldn't understand how doctors could wear the things when they felt as rough as the sandpaper Dad sometimes used in his lab.

"Pepper said she'll bring you a change of clothes when she comes back tomorrow," Steve said, patting Peter's shoulder once he got to his feet.

"Uh huh."

Peter's stomach swooped when he opened the door to Dad's hospital room and stepped inside. While he wasn't as opposed to hospitals as his father, having had an aunt who'd been a nurse, Peter still shuddered at the beeping and hissing sounds of the monitors recording Dad's heart rate and blood pressure, as well as all the tubes and wires that were attached to his arms and chest, including the pump that was delivering his pain medication. Dad's bare torso was covered in a thick, padded bandage, like it had been after he'd had his arc reactor taken out, and his face was pale beneath his beard, the deep crease between his eyebrows making it look like he was in pain.

"Steve," Peter managed to whisper through his tight throat. "He looks like he's in a lot of pain! Why does he have to be in so much pain, can't the doctors do more to help him?"

"Tony's a pretty tough guy, Peter," answered Steve with a reassuring pat on Peter's shoulder, even as Peter noticed the slight tremor in Steve's voice. "One of the toughest I've ever seen. I'm sure he's doing okay if he's able to sleep."

"Maybe," murmured Peter. "But he's always told me that he hates hospitals. I can't imagine that he's getting any decent rest here."

"From what Pepper told me, the doctors have said he can go home in a couple of days, as long as he agrees to take it easy," Steve said. "And you know what that means."

"Yeah. It means it'll be up to us to make sure he does take it easy."

"Yep. I figure if we all gang up on him at once that it should work," said Steve with a wink. "At least at first."

Nodding, Peter shuffled over to the chair pulled next to Dad's bed and plunked down on top of it, reaching for Dad's hand, smiling slightly at how warm it was. Dad's hands were always warm, even during the coldest days of the New York winters. Peter had always thought it was because of the arc reactor increasing Dad's circulation or something, but even after it was taken out, Dad's hands never seemed to get cold.

And even now, despite the fact that Dad was lying in a hospital bed with no shirt on, his hands were still warm.

"I'll head back down the hall, Peter," Steve said softly a moment later. "Just text if you need anything."

"Uh huh," Peter replied, not taking his eyes off his father's face. "Thank you."

Peter was silent for several minutes, just watching the rise and fall of Dad's chest as he held his hand, until he felt his eyelids start to droop from exhaustion. The hospital chair was definitely not the most comfortable thing Peter had ever sat on, and he soon found himself fidgeting, trying to find a better position and stay awake at the same time.

"Christ, buddy, you really don't ever sit still, do ya?"

The unexpected sound of Dad's voice startled Peter, causing him to accidently yank on one of the tubes connected to Dad's arm. "Ow! That's attached to something pretty important, Pete, so please try and be careful. I don't wanna have to stay here any longer than necessary."

"I'm so sorry!" Peter exclaimed, leaning in so he could cradle Dad's hand, being extra mindful about the tubes. "Dad, I'm so sorry, for everything!"

"We've already discussed this, Pete," Dad said, his voice a bit lower and more gravelly than usual but still strong. Steve definitely was right about him. "And frankly, I'm not really in the mood to discuss it again, so let's just agree that it's been tabled indefinitely, yeah?"

"Okay," Peter said, swallowing hard. "Then how 'bout… I'm sorry that I woke you?"

Dad opened one sleepy eye, his fingers tightening around Peter's hand. "Can't really sleep well in here either, especially when they've got me on all these goddamn drugs. It's not true sleep, there's too many weird colors and shapes happening for it to be real."

"Um… okay," mumbled Peter. "Then… how're—"

"How 'bout we talk about how you're doing?" Dad interrupted. "Pepper mentioned something about a rather unfortunate run-in with some ice cream earlier tonight?"

Peter felt his cheeks redden. "Yeah. I… um… I didn't check the label, and I hadn't had any in so long, and it just smelled and tasted so good… for about three bites, until—"

"Until you decided to introduce it to the floor?"

"Yeah," Peter answered with a shudder. He hated getting sick like that; it hadn't been that bad since the time Sam accidently made him some peppermint tea not too long after the Raft incident. "It was pretty disgusting."

"Mmm. Well, it looks like you got a fancy new outfit out of the deal, so it couldn't've been all bad."

Wrinkling his nose, Peter ran his free hand down the scratchy fabric covering his leg. "These are gross, Dad. I don't understand how the doctors can wear them."

"Well, they probably weren't designed with hyper-sensitive spider-kids in mind, Pete. In fact, I'm almost certain of it."

"No, probably not," Peter agreed with a sigh. He bit his lip, his eyes running down the length of Dad's torso, mostly covered by the thick, padded bandage. He was so tired, and really wanted nothing more than to curl up next to his father and go to sleep for the next three days.

As if he'd read Peter's mind, Dad squeezed his hand briefly and released it, patting the narrow bedspace next to him. "C'mon in, bud. You look exhausted."

"I—, I am," Peter whispered around the knot in his throat the size of a marble. "But… I don't wanna hurt you more, and I'm sure the doctors don't want me—"

Dad raised his arm, indicating for Peter to slide in beside him. "You won't, buddy. It'll help me sleep too, and that'll make both the doctors and Pepper happy. And you know when Pepper's happy—"

"Everyone's happy," Peter finished, smiling earnestly for the first time in a long time. Carefully, he slid onto the bed, curling onto his side with his ear pressed up against the side of Dad's chest so he could hear his heartbeat, with Dad's hand settling down on the small of Peter's back.

"That better, bud?"

"Yeah," Peter whispered, his eyes already closed. "Loads, thank you."

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Peter was just on the verge of sleep when Dad spoke up again. "Hey, buddy, guess what?"

"What?"

"I finally asked Pepper to marry me," Dad said, smiling through his words and causing Peter to smile just as big.

"You did? That's awesome, Dad!" exclaimed Peter. "I knew you could do it! I mean… I'm assuming that she said 'yes'. Didn't she?"

"Yeah, she did. But not before she made me beg a little."

"Well, serves you right for waiting over seven years to ask her," Peter chastised.

"I know, I know," Dad murmured. "Go to sleep now, bud. I'm exhausted."

"Uh huh. 'Night, Dad."

"'Night, buddy."

Despite rather loud protests from pretty much everyone, Tony insisted on being discharged only two days later, saying that he would be able to recover much better at home than he would in the hospital. Pepper ended up taking two more days off of work to help take care of him, but by the third day Tony was already starting to get restless, a feeling that was only compounded after Steve called once Peter had gone to bed, asking to come up to talk.

White-hot rage flooded Tony's veins as he listened to Steve recount Peter's story of how Adrian Toomes had not only confronted Peter at his warehouse before he went on to attack the supply plane, but that Toomes had also dropped nearly the entire building on top of Peter, leaving him for dead. It took every single ounce of self-restraint that Tony had to not jump into one of his intact suits and fly down to where Toomes was being held to personally rip the limbs from his body, broken breastbone or not. Steve ended up spending over thirty minutes pleading with him, reminding him that Peter was fine, that he'd survived, that he'd managed to lift the goddamn building off of him, the kid lifted a goddamn building off of himself! but it wasn't until Tony had called his lawyers, demanding that they add attempted murder of a minor and willful destruction of property to the long list of charges against Toomes that he was able to calm down a bit.

No. The Extremis armor couldn't wait any longer. There was no way Tony could be caught powerless like that ever again.

The following morning, once Peter had left for school and Steve and Sam had left for the Compound to unload and organize the supplies that had finally made it up there, Tony gulped down two cups of coffee and dragged himself over to his lab. His chest was still quite sore, requiring him to squeeze his eyes closed and grit his teeth at times, but being no stranger to pain, especially chest pain, Tony tried his best to ignore it as he got to work.

As he'd told Pepper, the Extremis really was fascinating stuff, provided one could find a way to stabilize it enough for it to be useful. Tony assumed that as long as it was being used as a suit of armor instead of being injected into his bloodstream, it would be far less likely to turn him into a human explosive device while still providing extra strength and durability that would far surpass even his most advanced suits to date.

"FRIDAY," Tony said, tapping his monitor and throwing the schematic for the housing unit into the air. "Pull up the Extremis specs and molecule structure and cross-reference it with the data Shuri sent over on that Panther habit she made for T'Challa. I wanna double-check that I'm on the right track here."

"Right away, boss," answered FRIDAY. Three seconds later, two different structures appeared side-by-side, the purple nanites from the Panther habit on the left with Tony's red ones on the right.

"All right, it looks like I'm doing okay," Tony muttered. He stepped over to stand in between the two structures, grabbing various parts of them to compare. "I gotta say, Shuri is pretty damn smart. This tech is just… incredible."

"Based on my observations, boss, I'd say Princess Shuri's IQ rivals that of yourself and Young Peter," said FRIDAY.

"Hmm," mumbled Tony, studying his red structure with a critical eye. "I think she's got me beat, actually. Probably closer to Bruce's level. FRIDAY, let's see what happens when we trim off a few of these extra carbons here around the outside. They look like they're just hanging out anyway, not doing anything too useful."

"Trimming too many may sacrifice stability, boss," warned FRIDAY. "It wouldn't do to have something that could explode when exposed to an impact."

"No, no, definitely don't want that," Tony said quickly. He tapped his chin, his eyes flicking between the two displays as he circled part of the red structure with his fingers, wincing as a flash of pain shot down his chest. "Try eliminating this section first."

"Yes, boss," said FRIDAY as the circled molecules disappeared.

"All right, simulate an impact. Let's say, fifty mph."

A second later, the red nanties flashed bright orange and disappeared.

"Um… okay," Tony said, his eyebrows raised. "Guess that's not it."

"I'd agree with that assessment, boss," FRIDAY said.

"Yeah, I thought you might. Pull it up again, let's try the next one."

Nearly three hours later, with Tony slumped into one of the lab chairs and holding his palm to his chest to keep the throbbing in check, he finally had found a nanite structure that appeared to be stable at impacts of up to five miles per second.

"Let's hope you won't be launching yourself into orbit anytime soon, boss," FRIDAY said as Tony leaned back in his chair, sweat pouring down his face and panting for breath.

"No, that's not in the plan, FRI," Tony gasped. Dammit, why does this have to hurt so much! "Let's… um…"

"Might I suggest that you put your work away and rest a bit, boss? Before Young Peter gets home? You know he won't be happy if he finds you like this."

"I know, I know," Tony grumbled. Peter was due home from school in about an hour, and Tony knew he was going to be in for a good tongue-lashing about pushing himself too hard, but finally getting this structure finalized would make it more than worth it. Now that the structure was done, manufacturing the nanites would hopefully be a piece of cake.

Squeezing his eyes closed, Tony clapped his hands together, closing out the structures. "FRIDAY, keeping running the simulations, I'm gonna… go lie down."

"Good idea, boss."

Dragging himself over to the lab couch, Tony sank down onto it, groaning as he stretched out with his hands above his head to try and alleviate some of the throbbing in his chest. He'd flat-out refused to take more of the pain pills the doctors had sent home with him, not appreciating the woozy, semi-drunken feeling they gave him. "I think… I'll just take a quick nap."

A freezing-cold hand touching his shoulder startled Tony awake, and he grimaced, blinking his eyes open to look up into the concerned and slightly irritated face of his son. "Dammit, Pete," he rasped, scrubbing his palms across his cheeks. "Your hands are like ice!"

"What're you doing in the lab, Dad?" Peter asked. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I am resting," protested Tony. "I'm lying flat-out here on the couch, aren't I?"

"Yeah," Peter said sarcastically. "In the lab. You're supposed to be in the living room."

"Oh, I see. Like you were supposed to be at a dance instead of at some old warehouse out in Brooklyn, lifting however many tons of rubble off your back?" Tony retorted, his breath hitching when Peter's eyes went wide, his round cheeks draining of color.

"How'd you—"

"Steve told me," said Tony, his voice a bit gentler. He grabbed onto the back of the couch, slowly pulling himself up to a sitting position and holding out his arm. "C'mere, buddy."

Gulping, Peter dropped onto the couch, sliding carefully next to Tony and laying his head on Tony's shoulder, his thin body shivering.

"Why didn't you tell me, Pete?" Tony said a few seconds later as he ran his hand up and down Peter's arm. "I thought we were past this whole hiding-things-from-Dad phase."

Peter let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his nose into Tony's shoulder just like he used to when he was little. "You got hurt," he whispered. "You had enough to worry about."

"Absolutely not true, bud, and you know it," Tony murmured. "Got anything better you wanna try?"

"No," answered Peter.

"Good, 'cause it wouldn't work anyway," Tony said gently. He threaded his fingers into Peter's hair, smiling softly when he felt Peter relax against him. "Are you still having nightmares?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk to Sam about it?"

"Do I have to?"

"It's probably a good idea, bud. Sam's been pretty good with helping you work through stuff before, and I'd say this is a pretty big one. It'd be good to have his help with it."

"Mmm. Why can't they just go away instead?"

"I've asked myself that question more than you could ever know, buddy, and I've still never gotten an answer that I liked. But Sam's a halfway decent guy, at least, so it could be worse."

"Mmm. I s'pose it could."

"Tell ya what," Tony said. "How 'bout I encourage you a little with a trip to Delmar's after you talk to Sam. Would that work to get your butt moving?"

Peter lifted his head, his brow furrowing in confusion. "But… Delmar's is—"

"Is already reopened for business," interrupted Tony. "As of yesterday, in fact. I had some of my guys rebuild the store for him."

"You did?" Peter exclaimed, a wide smile stretching across his face. "Dad, that's so awesome!"

"Anonymously, Pete," Tony said pointedly. "So let's keep it that way, yeah? But I'm sure Mr. Delmar wouldn't mind it too much if you showed your face around his new digs."

"I wanna wait until you're healthy enough to come with me," Peter said. "Mr. Delmar always likes seeing you too."

"Fine, but you still need to talk to Sam within the next couple of days. I don't think Pepper will let me out of here until next week at the earliest."

"I know," grumbled Peter. "I will."

"Mmm. Want some more motivation?"

"Um… sure?"

"How 'bout getting a learner's permit?"

"Really?" Peter yelped, right into Tony's ear. "Are you serious?"

"No, I'm Dad," Tony said with a grunt. "And deaf, if you keep shouting into my ear, Pete, so watch it if you don't mind."

"Sorry," Peter said sheepishly. "But you're really gonna teach me how to drive? That's so cool!"

"Well, you might think it's cool," Tony said. "I'm more of the mind that it just might be my undoing, but I suppose we'll see about that, won't we?"

"Oh, I'll be careful, Dad," said Peter. "I promise!"

"I know you will be, bud," Tony murmured. He kissed the top of Peter's head, his curly hair still smelling faintly of green apples. How in the hell can he already be old enough to start driving? "How 'bout I invite Sam up for dinner tomorrow night? Then you guys can talk afterwards?"

"Okay," mumbled Peter.

"Miss Potts says she'll be on her way up in about five, boss," announced FRIDAY."

"Thanks, FRIDAY," said Tony. He ruffled Peter's hair. "C'mon, bud, help your old man up so I can finally give Pepper her engagement ring, yeah?"

"You finally remembered where it was?" asked Peter as he looped Tony's arm over his shoulders, pulling him gently up from the couch.

"Yep," answered Tony. "Found it not too long after you left for school this morning."

"Oh. That's good."

"Speaking of, how was school today?"

Peter shrugged as he eased Tony down onto the couch in the living room. "Not too bad. It was Liz's last day, though. She told me that she and her mom are moving to Oregon, something about her dad not wanting them to be here during his trial or something. She looked really sad, Dad, I felt bad for her."

"Mmm," Tony grumbled. "I guess it would be tough to have to uproot during your senior year like that." Maybe something her old man should've considered before dropping a fucking building on my son. "But no feeling guilty on your part about that, do you understand me? Toomes chose to do what he did, and now he and his family are having to pay the price. All you did was catch him. You stopped a dangerous criminal, Pete. Don't ever forget that."

"I know," Peter said, his brown eyes wistful. "I just wish he hadn't been my friend's father."

It took a bit more prodding, but Peter did end up telling both Tony and Sam the full story about the collapsed building a few days later, and while Peter's nightmares flared up a bit at first, as they usually did when he was trying to work through something, they were noticeably better shortly afterwards. The trip to the newly rebuilt Delmar's Deli the following week helped to boost Peter's spirits even more, and after waiting in line for nearly four hours at the New York City's DMV office and passing both a written exam and an eye exam, Peter Parker Stark became the proud owner of a New York learner's permit.

"Okay," Tony said cautiously from the passenger seat of the car parked at one end of the large Compound parking lot. It was Peter's Thanksgiving break, and Tony had decided for his own sanity that Peter's first few driving lessons were going to take place away from the city—and its horrible traffic—and since it hadn't yet snowed upstate, he figured now was as good a time as any. "So, here's what—"

"So, what happens when you press the gas and the brake pedals at the same time?" Peter interrupted, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly Tony was surprised that it hadn't yet cracked. "Does it take a screenshot or something?"

"Nope," Tony said without missing a beat. "But it tends to make the engine mad, so let's not do that."

"Oh, sure," Peter said with a quick nod, swallowing hard. "Okay. Definitely don't wanna do that."

"Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"You've swung from buildings that're thirty stories high, buddy, and even climbed up the side of the damn Tower. Don't be intimidated by a car. You're stronger than the car, okay?"

Peter huffed out a sharp breath as he turned the key in the ignition, pressing the gas pedal and revving the engine. "Uh huh. Okay. Let's do this."

They ended up returning to the Compound a couple hours later, having survived Peter's initial attempts at driving with no casualties other than a few millimeters off of the brake pads and a few more grey hairs in Tony's beard and temples. There was also quite a bit of teasing later on at the lavishly spread dinner table from Rhodey and Sam, while Vision looked on with a curious look on his face.

And the next morning, after they'd slept off their post-dinner stupors and Barton had flown in with the Maximoff twins in tow, Tony brought Peter down to the equipment room, pointing him in the direction of a brand-new storage locker.

"What's this?" Peter asked in a trembling voice.

"Go ahead and open it," Tony said, barely able to contain his smile.

Pressing his shaking palm to the panel to the right of the locker, Peter gasped as the door slid open to reveal the brand-new Spider-Man suit Tony had built for him. Based almost entirely on Peter's own design, Tony had made only a few minor upgrades to the sleek red and blue suit, including storage slots for his extra web fluid cartridges, a reconnaissance drone built into the spider symbol on the front, flaps that could form makeshift wings to help Peter glide between webs, and the upgrade Tony was most proud of, a parachute, stored in a hidden panel on the back.

"Is this… for me?" Peter asked, turning to Tony with a look of such pure awe and wonder that tears sprang to Tony's eyes. "Dad?"

"You're Spider-Man, aren't you?" Tony replied, squeezing Peter's shoulder. "Course it's for you. There's no way that thing would fit me."

"Oh my—, I mean… Dad, it's just awesome!" Peter stammered. "But… um…"

"Steve and I thought it would be good for you to start training with some of the flyers at first, Pete," Tony said. "Rhodey, Vision, and Sam—"

"And you," Peter cut in. "Right? You'll be there too, won't you?"

"Yeah, buddy," Tony said proudly. "I'll be right there with ya too." He drew in a deep breath; there really was no turning back now. "Suit up, Pete. The team's waiting for us."

So this was definitely a lighter/ fluffier chapter, which I think was well-deserved after the last one. I can't wait to see what you guys think! :)