Sing to the Sky {31 Days Of Peter Parker Whump}

15-Manhandling

Tony smiles down at his 6 year old son who's working on his grade one math homework on the floor of the lab. There's soft classic rock playing in the background as Tony tinkers and keeps an eye on his kid. 

Peter's curls bounce around his chubby cheeks as he hops up from his seat, paper and pencil in hand as he hurries over to Tony. 

"Daddy," Peter whines, tugging on his dad's shirt. "I don't understand."

Tony laughs quietly at just how cute his son is, pouting and annoyed by the math problem. The hero lifts his kid into a chair and lays the paper flat on the surface.

"You know how to do this, Pete. Jane has 6 bouncy balls and has to share them with her 2 sisters. How many does each sister get?" Tony reads from the page. 

"It doesn't say she has to share evenly," Peter says, rolling his big eyes. "She could give 1 to each sister, 2 to each sister or 3 to each sister. Or 1 to one sister and 2 to the other. There's so many possibilities." 

Tony smiles. He probably shouldn't have started teaching his kid math and science at such an early age, but Peter always insisted. Even when he was really little, he only wanted to watch the nature documentaries and wanted to read from a kid's science textbook and always wanted to help Tony in the lab if he could. Of course Tony gave the child easy things to do like hold onto things and ask him easy addition problems, but Peter always felt like he was helping anyways. And Tony enjoyed the company.

"Skip this one and talk to your teacher on Monday, squirt. See what she says. It's not a very smart question," Tony says.

Peter leans in like he's about to tell the world's biggest secret and doesn't want Dum-E to hear, and whispers, "I don't think my teacher's very smart."

Tony laughs again. "That's not very nice, but you're probably right. How about you go upstairs and see if Momma's home. And get yourself a snack. I'll be up in a minute, okay?"

Peter hops down from his chair, almost stumbling when his short legs don't hit the ground soon enough, but Tony catches his elbows and straightens him out.

"Cheerios?" Peter asks, tipping his head to the side.

"Sure. Go get some cheerios. I'll be up in just a second, Bambi."

"Okay, Daddy!" 

*

When Tony finally walks up the stairs to see if Peter was able to reach the Cheerios alright, he almost has a heart attack.

Men, about 6 or 7 of them are in the kitchen. All wearing black. Hydra insignia's on their jackets.

And Tony's son, his little child, his Bambi, his Peter Pan, his baby, is being held in the center.

"Daddy," the little boy cries, straining against the hands.

His chubby cheeks are bright red, tears streaming down from his big, scared eyes. His curls are being held by one of the men, more hands on his arms and little shoulders. His mouth is dropped open in a cry as he reaches out for his dad. 

"Get your fucking hands off him," Tony growls, prying his eyes away from his child to glare at the men. 

"Not even gonna bargain, Stark?" A man says, drawing a gun from the waistband of his pants, a lazy smile on his face. He's the least armored, pulling off his mask to show sparkling blue eyes and fluffy blond hair. "I would've expected more pleading for your son's life."

Peter whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut when the barrel of the gun is pressed against his temple.

Tony wants nothing more than to comfort him, but he can't do that unless he gets him away from the men first.