:D Hello wonderful readers! Did you miss me?

Thank you so much for all those who have been re-reading the series and for those who have just joined welcome! This series started off as something I only intended to do a couple of prompts for and has become this massive work that I'm still overwhelmed by! Thank you all who have stayed with me along the way and I am so grateful for all the nominations you have given this to the Irondad Creator Awards (nominations for 2023 are on right now so don't forget to vote for your favorites!)

PROMPTS ARE OPEN!

That's right! Prompts are re-open! to submit your prompt please just put them in the comments. It's better if you have an account (but not necessary) so that I can reply to you if I have any questions. Please make sure that your prompts have a forgotten element to them! I also reserve the write to not accept prompts that I am not comfortable writing.

This one-shot is also apart of my One In A Million chapter fic. I thought this all tied in nicely :) you don't need to read the other fic to understand this but for clarity it would make it easier. But basically it is Peter snapped the stones and was injured and has been living with Tony ever since.

Please enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes.


Gerald The Guard Alpaca


Peter felt a little guilty for the harsh, "I can do it," and the push of Tony's outreached hand that had been coming for his plate, but his frustration was starting to reach boiling point.

"Sure, kid." Tony pulled his arm back, settling into his seat. He gave Peter a quick look that the younger boy ignored before focusing on the conversation around him.

They Stark family had a full house tonight. The Avengers had all come by the lake house for a fortnightly meeting (Tony now including Peter on some of them after what happened the last time he left Peter at home) which usually turned into a food and games night. Tony had spent the morning making lasagnes (while Morgan and Peter supervised and snuck pieces of cheese) and Pepper had prepped some salads and other meats. They were now crammed around the kitchen table, plates and plates of food covering every available surface.

Peter ignored this though and instead focused on his knife and fork. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the fork in his right hand. Slowly he brought his still injured left arm up onto the table and placed it close to his plate. It had been just over a week that Peter had finally been allowed out of his sling. His arm was still healing but it had improved since he had woken up and was now wrapped in a bandage, one that he had changed daily.

Once, when Tony had to duck away in the middle of changing Peter's bandage, Peter had run his fingers over the skin. It had been an odd sensation, the skin puckered and dry. It had left him feeling queasy and he had been silent for the rest of the day, ignoring the worried looks Tony had sent them.

As much as Doctor Stephen Strange assured Peter that he would heal and regain full use of his arm eventually, Peter was tired of healing. He wanted to be normal again. He wanted to be able to go through a full day without having a nap. He wanted the nightmares he had developed to go away. He wanted to be able to hang out with the Avengers without their eyes drifting to his injuries with a haunted look in their eyes.

He wanted to be Spiderman again.

Tilting his palm up, Peter pushed the fork gently into his left hand. Gritting his teeth, he attempted to curl his fingers around the metal. He could do this. He was going to eat his dinner normally, using both hands. He could do this.

His arm shook, rattling the plate but Peter ignored it. He also ignored the side-eyed stare he was getting from Tony and the non-subtle look that Strange was giving him from across the table. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Peter used his right hand to help the tortuous slow curl of his fingers around the metal. He pulled away but jerked back as the fork begun to slip.

His left hand wasn't sticky.

Panic flooded his body, causing him to slam his right hand down over his knife. The table rattled with the force, cutlery clattering and liquid rippling inside the glasses.

"Peter? You okay there?" Tony asked, making an aborted move to help.

"Fine," Peter snapped out, wrenching his hand back and out of Tony's reach.

The knife stuck to his hand. Flicking his wrists, the knife stayed firmly attached to his right hand. The panic that had flooded his system eased back by like a receding wave from the shore.

Still sticky. I'm still sticky, Peter thought as he used the edge of the table to pry the knife from his hand.

It was just his left side, the arm he had used to snap the stones and save the world, that wasn't sticky. His powers still worked.

Shaking his head, Peter took a deep breath. Going for the fork again, Peter adjusted his loose grip on the metal. Satisfied that it wasn't going to fall, Peter lifted his arm by the elbow and positioned himself so that his fork now sunk into the hot lasagna that was on his plate. It sunk into the cheesy skin and Peter grinned. Placing his arm on the edge of the plate, Peter grabbed the knife in his good hand and started to cut his food.

The plate wobbled under his shaking and the veggies that adorned his plate slid about but Peter paid no mind. The knife cut easily through the cheese and soon enough he had a bite size piece speared onto his fork.

Riding the high of successfully cutting his own food, Peter placed his knife on the table and gripped his left wrist. Slowly, he brought the shaking limb closer to his body, mouth automatically opening in preparation for the food.

The fork slipped from his grip, landing directly into Peter's lap. Hot sauce smeared across the MIT hoodie he wore, sliding slowly until the fork fell from his lap and onto the floor with a loud clatter.

The conversation around the table died as everyone stared at Peter.

"Shit," Peter swore.

"That's mummy's word," Morgan piped up with a giggle and a large grin.

Peter felt Tony shift beside him, heard him draw in a breath to no doubt tell him it was okay, but he didn't want to hear it. Instead, he shoved his chair back, the legs scraping across the floor and stood, striding out of the kitchen and to the door. It flung open at his push, and he strode across the veranda until he was leaping down the front steps and crossing the front yard.

"Stupid arm," Peter hissed. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

His stomach growled and he groaned. He was so hungry, and Tony's lasagna was incredible. With an angry huff, Peter turned on his heel and walked back to the house. Nobody said a word as he re-entered the kitchen, snatched his plate off the table with his good hand and then stormed back outside again.

He plopped himself down on the wicker chair, balancing his plate in his lap. He snatched a carrot stick from his plate and used it to scoop up some lasagna. The taste of melting cheese and rich tomato sauce soothed some of the frustration that was bubbling inside his chest, but it was still there, and Peter was tired of feeling it.


The reflection of the moon shimmered on the surface of the inky black lake. The water was mostly still, only disturbed by the whispering breath of wind that lazily swept across the land. The air was still warm from the hot summer day and Peter Parker found it the perfect night to sneak into Tony's workshop.

Peter strained his hearing, listening to the sounds of the lake house that had become familiar over the months he had been living there. The chirping of the crickets had taken some time to get used to, Peter so used to the sounds of the city. He found it soothing now, although sometimes he missed the city. There was the occasional creak of the house settling and the steady breathes of Tony, Pepper, and Morgan fast asleep.

Easing himself up off the bed, Peter quietly stood. He moved quietly to the window, pausing to listen. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, pumping so fast he thought that it would wake the whole house. But nobody stirred and Peter let out a shaky breath. He reached for the window, carefully sliding it open.

The warm air hit his face and he shivered. Glancing around his empty room and taking one more moment to listen for any signs of movement, Peter then climbed out the window.

Carefully, Peter made his way down off the roof and landed on the ground softly. He remained in his crouch positioned, body tense and holding his breath. He half expected an alarm to go off the minuet his feet touched the ground (and some days he wouldn't put it past Tony to do just that) but the lake house remained silent.

Straightening, Peter licked his lips and cautiously started to move. He rounded the back of the house, following the veranda around and keeping low. The picturesque lake was lost on Peter as he crept around the edge of the house until he came to a stop by the back steps. There was small, paved pathway that led away from the house and to the workshop that Tony had built.

When he had first woken up from his coma and was on steadier feet, Tony had given Peter a tour of the property.

"It's hard to imagine you being out here," Peter had commented as they had walked around, nose scrunched. He had looked at Tony and when he caught the man's arched brow, he hastily added. "Not that – I mean – you look happy out here. I just, it's hard to picture you not surrounded by technology."

"I am," Tony had said, taking pity on Peter. He had looked away, his gaze firmly on the lake. "When you…. On Titan. Being back in the city was too hard. I kept looking for you, swinging between the buildings. There were too many memories of you there and I was going to drown in them if I let myself. The world was in turmoil and when we found out that Pepper was pregnant with Morgan… I didn't want her growing up in all of that."

Peter had swallowed back the emotion that had climbed up his throat. He had been surprised that Tony was being so open and honest with him. While he was still the same man that Peter remembered, he was softer, more open, less shark-like smiles and sharp quips.

"I'm sorry," Peter had said, guilt swirling around his stomach.

"Hey," Tony said, pausing in his steps making Peter stop too. Tony turned his full attention to Tony, biting his lip. "None of that was any of your fault. What you did, coming with me to Titan, snapping the stones. I've never been prouder of you."

They had hugged it out there and when Tony pulled away, his eyes sparkling. "Besides, there is still plenty of technology out here."

Then Tony had led Peter down the path to the workshop.

The same workshop Peter now stood out the front of. Glancing at the house, he saw no lights and heard no movement. With trembling fingers, Peter punched in the code that Tony had used and heard the snick of the lock opening. As quietly as he could he slid open the door and stepped inside.

From the outside you would think that the workshop would be full of wood shavings, farm tools and wooden work benches. This workshop was like stepping into the future. It reminded Peter of the workshop back at the Tower. It had the same set up, the large space filled with monitors, steel benches, computers, and the latest technology that geeks would kill for.

Stepping into the workshop had been overwhelming the first time and the effect hadn't lessened this time around. Peter swallowed down his awe and moved deeper into the workshop. He moved with purpose, ignoring the itch that wanted him to sit down and examine everything closer without Pepper or Tony trying to drag him away to rest.

Peter moved towards the edge of the workshop where a long, stainless steel work bench was. He moved along it, eyes searching the bench until he found what he was looking for. There, on the edge of the worktable was a small, engraved plaque:

Peter's Workspace

The first time Tony had shown him the words he had broken down into tears and had cried until he had drifted off to sleep in Tony's arms. The words now still brought the stinging tell of tears. He sniffed, swallowing thickly and tore his gaze away. Instead, his eyes fell on the familiar web shooters.

Peter reached for them with trembling fingers, exhaling out a stuttered breath. He slipped one onto his good wrist first before clumsily slipping it on to his other. Joy spread through Peter as he admired the familiar weight. It felt like a piece had been missing from him and there was still one more he needed to feel complete. He turned, wondering Tony would have stashed his suit –

"Baaaaaaaaaaa."

Peter froze. Slowly, he spun on the spot to find Gerald the Alpaca standing in the doorway of the workshop. The woolly giant was looking at Peter was narrowed eyes, giving Peter the distinct impression that he was glaring at Peter.

"Baaaa."

Even his baying sounded sinister.

"Gerald," Peter whispered. "Shhhhh. You're going to wake everyone up and hey! No, don't come in here!"

It was too late. Gerald had already stepped into the workshop, making his way towards Peter. His hoofs clicked against the floor, filling the silence, and making Peter wince.

Gerald had been another (delightful) surprise. He had never thought of Tony as an animal lover and the first time Peter met the alpaca, he had fallen in love. Gerald had immediately pushed his head into Peter's good hand, eager for a pat.

"Great," Tony had huffed. "Of course, he loves you already. Will probably be your best friend while he keeps eating my berries."

Gerald had nuzzled into Peter neck, shooting Tony what could only be described as a smug smile, making Peter laugh loudly. Over the few months that Peter had been living at the lake house, he had learned that Gerald really liked to mess with Tony. He continued to eat the man's berries, no matter what contraption Tony set up to keep him away. The alpaca liked to steal the washing that Tony had hung up, sneak into the house and had even on one memorable occasion, pushed Tony into the lake.

Gerald was like an overgrown puppy. He was gentle, cheeky, and overall, a very loyal pet.

But Peter had also forgotten that Gerald had also taken over the role of guard dog. Peter had seen it in action when a reporter had tried to sneak on to the property to get some photos and had been chased all the way back to the main road by a very angry alpaca.

(Gerald had been given as many berries as he liked in return for his good job.)

"No, Gerald, go back outside," Peter hissed, trying to herd the alpaca out of the workshop.

The alpaca didn't listen. As soon as he was close enough, Gerald shoved his head into Peter's stomach and pushed him. "Baaa."

"What?! Hey! Gerald! Stop!"

Peter suddenly found the roles reversed and he was being herded out of the garage and back towards the house. Every time he tried to break away and rush back to the workshop, Gerald was there, shoving him in the back until he had grabbed Peter's pyjama top and started tugging him back towards the house.

"Alright! Alright!" Peter cried, throwing his hands up with defeat. "You win!"

"Good boy, Gerald."

Peter's head snapped up and he felt the blood drain from his face. Tony was there, leaning on the railing of the veranda, looking smug.

Gerald let out a baying noise that sounded very satisfied.

"Did you set Gerald on me?" Peter blurted out, a mixture of shock and panic flooding his system.

Tony snorted. "As if that walking bag of wool listens to me. No, I didn't tell him, but you should know how protective he is of the family."

Gerald nudged Peter, gently nibbling at his ear.

Peter jerked away, feeling himself softening and with his good hand he reached up to give him a pat.

"Kind of late to be in the workshop, isn't it?" Tony asked, his voice lite.

Peter shifted from foot to foot, knowing that he had been caught. Tony had known exactly what he was up too. "Sorry."

"It couldn't have waited until the morning?"

"Would you have let me?" Peter asked, looking up to Tony. The frustration was back, making his words come out bitter and harsh.

Tony was silent for a beat before he pushed himself off the railing. "Come up here, Underoos. FRIDAY, lock up the workshop."

Peter heard the door of the workshop slide shut, and the lock click back into place. With one more pat to Gerald, Peter made his way up the steps. He made his way to Tony who was sitting on the outdoor couch and dropped down beside him, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"I want to be Spiderman," Peter said, hearing the pout in his voice but not caring. "I'm sick of healing. I want things to be normal. I want to be able to eat dinner without you cutting up my food like I'm a baby."

"I know," Tony sighed. He wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulder, dragging Peter to his chest. Peter shifted until he was comfortable, laying his head over Tony's heart and felt himself relaxing under the familiar beat. "You've been doing so well, Pete. I'm proud of you."

Peter sniffed, feeling tears well up. "I want to be normal. I'm tired of being tired. I want to be Spiderman."

"You will be," Tony said soothingly.

"When?" Peter demanded.

"I was going to tell you this tomorrow, but if it stops you from breaking into the workshop in the middle of the night, I suppose I can tell you now," Tony said, nudging Peter lightly.

Peter perked up, lifting his head from Tony's chest. "Tell me what?"

"Stephen is coming by tomorrow. He's going to start some physical therapy on your arm to help you get back your strength," Tony said.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Tony smiled softly. His grew serious, fixing Peter with a firm look. "It's not going to happen overnight, and I know this is frustrating for you, but I need you to hang in there for me."

Peter swallowed more guilt filling him. He knew that tonight he hadn't been at his best, snapping at those who were only trying to help. "I'm sorry for snapping."

"Hey, this isn't easy for you Peter," Tony said. "And we know that. We just all want to help you as much as we can."

"And I haven't thanked you guys enough for that," Peter said.

Tony shook his head. "You saved us all Peter. You never have to thank us for anything."

Peter settled into Tony's side again, letting out a little sigh and snuggling in to get comfortable. Peter knew it was going to be tough and that there would be more bad days then good, but he had the greatest family supporting him the whole way.

He even had Gerald looking out for him, the best guard alpaca a family could ask for.


Happy reading :D