Tony is your father.
"Peter no!" you shouted and boosted your suit to make your way over to him. You tried to prevent him from climbing up the spaceship higher but he kept on going, probably trying to find a way in.
"[your name], I-I ca-can't bre-" Peter mumbled to you in his in-ear. When you didn't hear him finish the sentence you looked up to where he was previously climbing.
You saw his body falling right towards you. "Shit, shit, shit," you cursed under your breath as your eyes widened.
Right before Peter would've hit you, you flew to the side and downwards. If you wanted to have a chance of catching him, you would have to approach him from the side and catch him before he could hit the surface of the spaceship.
"Sunday, please make sure I won't die," you said to your suit. Yes, your suit's name was Sunday. Tony designed it and thought matching with names would be fun. First you objected because you didn't want to have the same kind of name as your father. However, once you got passed your rebellion stage you grew fond of it and you wouldn't want her to have any other name. And you like the name because it sounds like sundae and food is always good.
Anyways, Sunday was ready with every safety program there was to make sure both you and Peter wouldn't die.
Peter was still falling and you were now in the position to save him. As soon as he was in front of you, you raced towards him and caught him. One arm was under his knees and one under his neck. The arm under his neck was uncomfortable and it wasn't the most ideal spot to be able to lift him. Peter weighed more than you expected, so with the boy in your arms, you made your way down unsteady, more falling down than actually flying.
But before you hit the surface Sunday boosted your rockets which pointed down a little more before you landed, to make sure your knees wouldn't collapse.
"Thanks, Sunday," you sighed. no problem [your name]
You sat down on the spaceship with the boy in your lap, wrapping your arms around his waist.
You opened your helmet and checked Peter's pulse. It was beating.
"Peter? Hey wake up, please wake up," you spoke softly, afraid to startle the fragile boy if he were to wake. He didn't move at all so you gently put your fingers through locks of Peter's soft hair.
While continuing to fumble with his hair with one hand, you closed your helmet.
"Sun-Sunday? Can you please call my dad?" You had kept one hand on his pulse and felt it going slower.