Work Text:
“Hey, Pete? Could you pass me that screwdriver over there?” Tony asked from across the lab, rousing Peter from his almost sleep.
He blinked up from his worktop, looking around for one. He assumed he was pointing at the one he wanted, but his tired brain just searched for the closest one which happened to be on his desk and hobbled over with it. He considered throwing it to save him from walking, but he didn’t trust his aim right now.
He hissed when he stood from his stool, trying to ignore the burning pain in his leg as he walked over.
The last thing he needed was Tony noticing something was wrong.
“Thanks, kid,” he said without looking up when Peter handed him the tool. “Wait, what's this? I said that one.” He pointed back across the room and the teen refrained from dragging an exhausted hand over his face.
“Don’t they do the same thing?”
“In a literal sense, but this one is about three times too big for what I need. You wanna try tinkering with nanotech with a screwdriver the size of a TV remote?”
Peter sighed, beginning to make his way to the correct screwdriver before Tony’s voice cut through the lab.
“What the hell is that?”
“Huh?” He turned around, expecting Tony to be staring at some weird insect or a glitch in his suit, but instead, he was looking at him. “What?”
“Why are you limping?”
“Oh, uh, I twisted my knee in gym class.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed, stalking towards him with his eyes trained on his leg. “You’re a terrible liar, Pete.”
“I am not.”
“What's wrong with your leg? And trust me, I know when you’re lying.”
“It's nothing, okay? It happened on patrol a few nights ago.”
“A few nights ago? And it hasn’t healed?”
He shook his head, slowly realising how bad this sounded and he hadn't even shown Tony what was wrong yet.
“Jesus, Pete. Why didn’t you say anything?” He questioned, but Peter knew he didn't expect an answer. He already knew his self-preservation was seriously lacking. “Show me.”
“Do I have to?” He whined, receiving a pointed look. He sighed, undoing his belt and feeling his cheeks redden. “It’s honestly nothing.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Sit up here,” Tony instructed, patting on an empty table.
Gingerly, he pushed himself back onto the table, bandaged thigh on full display.
Tony grabbed some scissors, snipping away the gauze with careful ease.
He had to look away when the bandages fell away, revealing a nasty wound.
“Peter, what the hell is this?”
“It’s noth-”
“Don't you dare finish that sentence. You have until the count of three to tell me what happened or I’m hauling your ass to medbay. One. Two.”
“I got hit with an arrow on patrol! But it's nothing, it's just taking a while to heal.”
“Peter, this isn’t nothing . It looks like it happened hours ago not days ago. Is your healing not working?”
“It is for everything else. It’s just this,” he said, gesturing to the still bloody puncture.
“Why didn’t you say anything? Surely it hurts.”
“I just thought it would heal eventually. I’ve been dealing with it.”
“Oh? How's that?”
“I… took painkillers?”
Tony groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. “Painkillers don't even work on you!”
“They do if I take seven a time,” he grumbled, not meaning to be heard.
“I’m sorry, what ?”
Peter felt a bead of sweat run down his forehead and he suddenly wanted to look everywhere other than in Tony’s direction. “Well, I just figured if my metabolism burns through them, I should take more-”
“No! No, you shouldn't just take more. Christ, you could have given yourself an overdose. What were you thinking?” Tony demands, but he stays quiet.
“Friday, alert Cho we have a Spider-idiot en route.”
“Wait what?” Peter managed to get out before Tony was carefully hauling him over his shoulder with a surprised squeal. “Mr Stark!”
“Don’t wanna hear it, Roos.”
“I don’t need a doctor, it’s fine,” he pleaded.
“You need a doctor. You have an arrow wound on your thigh and you need to get checked for signs of an overdose. You know for a smart kid, you really do make me wonder sometimes.”
Peter sighed, letting himself swing limply in time to Tony’s steps.
“An arrow. Who the hell uses arrows anymore? This isn’t Game of Thrones,” the man muttered to himself as he walked. He waited impatiently for the elevator doors to open and Peter had never felt more awkward in his life hanging upside down over his mentor's back in complete silence as they made their way to MedBay.
Helen greeted them in his usual room - an expression Tony would chew his ear off for, but it was true. “What do we have here then?” She asked, unable to hide her amused smile at the way Tony was carrying him.
“Kid got shot with an arrow and it's not healing. Oh, and he might have overdosed on painkillers.”
“So not much then,” she replied sarcastically, consulting her cart of equipment behind her. “Why painkillers? We synthesised drugs specifically for him.”
“Because insect-brain over here kept it a secret so never asked me for them. Why exactly did you keep this from me?”
“Because I knew you’d act like this!” He exclaimed, gesturing to all of him.
“I wouldn’t have if you’d just come to me after it had happened, not two days later when I figure it out for myself!”
Peter went to argue, but Helen chose then to press on the skin near the arrow wound and he winced, letting out a small whimper.
He heard Tony sigh and his heart rate increased a notch, throwing a wave of guilt over the teen.
“I just didn’t want to worry you,” he said in a small voice, watching Helen take swabs from his leg.
“But that's the thing, bud. I worry all the goddamn time, and when you pull shit like this it makes it even worse.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled and Helen glanced a sympathetic smile at him.
Tony let out an exasperated breath, “You’re always sorry, kid, but you know it only means anything if you learn from it and you don't. How am I supposed to trust you out there if every time something goes wrong you hide it from me?”
“I don’t hide things from you-”
“So the other week when you lost feeling in your arm for a whole day after falling on it on patrol?”
Peter ducked his head, picking at the skin around his fingernail.
“No? How about the time May called me because you were unconscious and bleeding from your stomach in bed because instead of calling me, you thought you could sleep it off?”
“I-”
“Oh, there's more, so much more because that’s the pattern with you. I told you when things get tough you call me, but you seem to forget that, and I’m tired, kid. I’m so fucking tired of having to check up with May just to make sure you’re actually alive after a patrol. I’m tired of scrolling through baby monitor protocols to see if you got injured because I know you wouldn’t tell me if you were. How am I supposed to trust you out there, huh?”
“Tony,” Helen scolded quietly.
Peter bit his lip, still trying to process Tony’s harsh words. “I-I was just trying to be better.”
He doesn’t risk looking up because he knew there were tears falling down his face and one look at the disappointment in Tony’s eyes would be enough to keep them there.
Saved by the beep, all the attention suddenly went to Helen who was holding a device in her hand, the one she placed his blood swab into.
“It seems the arrow was laced with something that was able to interfere with your healing. There are no white blood cells at all in this area,” she explained, face now swamped with concern.
Peter stayed quiet, but Tony voiced the question he wanted to ask.
“So it was poisoned or something?”
“Potentially, but poison is usually a toxin that affects not only the local area. Since it’s affected Peter’s healing which is widely unknown, it’d be more likely the arrow was synthesised with something that has unintentionally affected him.”
“So there’s some sort of arrow coating out there with the chemical composition to block his healing?”
“It sounds unlikely, but it's the only possible explanation I can think of. It doesn’t look like a malicious attack.”
“Can you treat it?”
“I’ll have to clean the substance out of the wound which should hopefully stop inhibiting his healing.”
“Clean it how?” Peter asked, trying to keep his voice even.
“The old-fashioned way I’m afraid, Peter.”
The teen's eyes widened, chewing harder at the inside of his cheek.
“You’ll numb the area or something though, right?” Tony asked.
She shook her head, picking out a bottle of saline solution and a cloth. “It would just wipe off too when I clean the wound.”
“At least give him some painkillers or something ,” he tried desperately as if it were him about to have a cloth dipped in an arrow wound.
“I can’t, Tony. You just told me you were worried he’d nearly overdosed on over-the-counter painkillers, giving him super-meds would be too dangerous.”
“Fuck. Fuck!” He yelled, kicking a medical cart that ricocheted off the wall, making Peter flinch.
To the teen's horror, a small sob hiccupped out of him and he ducked his head, staring at the bloody wound.
“Tony, you either need to calm down or remove yourself. Peter’s scared as it is and all you’ve done is come in here and yell at him,” Helen scolded, probably pointing an accusing finger at the man, but Peter didn’t dare look up.
“I… I didn’t yell-”
“Does it matter? Isn’t making him cry enough? I’m giving you your last warning, Tony. He’s going to need someone to keep him still whilst I clean this and I can find someone else very easily.”
There was a silence, and his ears burned, feeling Tony’s gaze on him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Tell him that, not me. I’ll give you guys a minute whilst I get the rest of my supplies,” Helen said before striding out of the room.
The tension left behind made the teen shift uneasily, wishing he could have run out with her, but he’d only have fallen over thanks to his injured leg.
“I…”
He glanced up at Tony who had his hands on his hips, looking like he was contemplating his entire life as he stared at a speck of dirt on the floor. He shook his head, walking the few steps to the exam table and pushing himself back so he sat next to Peter. He put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.
“I’m sorry, Pete. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that,” he said sincerely, meeting the teen's gaze.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not, kid. You’re hurt and I’m supposed to be here to help you, not make things worse.”
Peter shrugged, sniffling pathetically as he brushed away his tears with the cuff of his sleeve.
“Come here, kid,” he murmured, pulling him into his side. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t understand why you don’t come to me with these things. I’ve asked you to so many times and yet…”
“I can’t though.”
“Why?”
“Because then you’ll see how much I’m screwing up. Every time I get hurt or something goes wrong, that’s me screwing something up and I’m trying to be better. I-I need you to think I’m doing better.”
The older man frowned, “kid, you don’t need to do better. Messing up sucks, sure, but it’s part of the process. As much as I’d love you not to get hurt, it’s an occupational hazard and it happens, and I need you to come to me when it does.”
“But you said you wanted me to do better a-and I’m trying -“
“Wait, is this about what I said?”
He nodded, feeling more tears slip out as he did. “You-you were so mad. I just didn’t wanna disappoint you again.”
Tony sighed, hanging his head. “I’m sorry, kid. I… I was angry that day. You lied to me and put people in danger, and granted I didn’t handle it well and I’ll never forgive myself for taking your suit, but I’m trying too, Pete. I’m trying to be here for you in the way you need, not the angry parent you can’t trust to go to.”
“I do trust you,” he whispered, forcing a small smile when Tony looked back up at him.
“Then come to me. Please. I can’t handle finding out you’re hurt through the grapevine for much longer. I’m going grey before my time and I can’t sleep, kid. I can’t sleep not knowing if you’re okay, because usually? You’re not.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Stark. I promise I’ll be better.” To his surprise, Tony shook his head, turning him ever so slightly to face him.
“No, no promise to be better bull shit, promise to ask for help when you need it. Promise to call me when shit hits the fan so at least then we can hit it together. I want to be there for you, kid… Let me be because I can’t lose you.”
Peter’s eyes stung with tears, swallowing the lump in his throat before nodding. “I promise.”
“Don’t be afraid to come to me, kid. I swear I’ll never be mad.”
He nodded again, feeling warmth burst in his chest. He finally relaxed in his mentor's hold, finding him smiling back too.
“What if I broke another ferry?”
Tony raised an eyebrow, “then I’d have to stop it sinking again.”
Peter cocked his head in thought, staring at the ceiling. “What if…”
“Pete,” Tony cut in, holding him by both shoulders. “I promise.”