Tony is elbows deep in dirty dishwater when Friday alerts him that Peter is asking for assistance, which is alarming in itself. Tony can count on one hand the times he’s actually been called for help in all their years together.
Tony technically retired after the horrible incident on Titan, and spiraled down a path of guilt and self destruction he’s not particularly keen on repeating any time soon.
He has had enough fights with Peter about that to understand he most likely doesn’t have a choice. Peter’s never gonna back down if he can help, and he’s always gonna throw himself head first between victim and danger.
*
“Tony, I’m fine! Calm down!”
He’s most definitely not fine. Lying on that medical bed, hooked up to machines and IV’s, bandaging covering more skin than not. His eyes are hooded and unfocused from the amount of drugs used to numb the pain.
“You’re not fine, Pete! You could have died!” Saying it out loud is making it ten times worse than picturing it in his head. Peter could die. For real this time. No second chances. Tony’s eyes sting and his throat closes up, the lump in his chest rising and threatening to spill over with brutal force.
“We talked about this, Tony.” His voice is so calm, soothing, working as a cooling balm on his heart. “I’m not going to stop. This comes with the job. I’m going to get hurt.” Even high as a kite, he somehow manages to stand his ground and not even waver.
It doesn’t help. It still hurts like hell knowing that one day he might not come home. That despite Tony being two decades older, he might still very well end up the widower.
*
Friday guides him through the air, the suit feeling foreign on his skin after years apart. There’s flashing lights and sirens filling the dark night when he approaches the scene. Peter is swinging around, entering the building and jumping back out with terrified people clinging to him.
He looks so composed, focused. He’s not a clumsy teen anymore, heading for whatever without thinking about how to actually go forward. He knows what he’s doing.
“I’m here, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” He can hear the crackling sound filling his ears while he waits for Peter’s update. He thinks he needs to update the software in his suit when they get home, while he hovers above the busy streets.
“We need to get the people out and away from the building. Clear the block. There’s a bomb, Tony. I’m gonna try and disarm it, but I need everyone to be safe.”
The arguments weigh heavy on his tongue; he can take care of the bomb, get Peter to safety. But a rational part of his brain is sowing his mouth shut. He’s faster than Peter, and can save more people in a shorter amount of time. Peter is already inside, and he probably knows where the bomb is.
YOU ARE READING
One Shot Collection
FanfictionThis is a collection of all my weird ideas and random ships that no one else seems to look at. There's some more famous ones too, like starker and spideypool. They all involve Peter, and many of them are pretty sad, so prepare yourself for tears.
