~Iron Family~

He Will Never Look at Olaf the Same Way Again

Before long, Peter's ankle was splinted and his chest was wrapped in bandages. Tubes were stuck down his throat and into his side, he was buried under other various cords and needles that protruded from under his chest bandages, and was hooked up to big, scary machines.

But he was alive. And that was all that mattered.

***

They didn't leave the laboratory till twelve hours later. It was well after midnight, and he was exhausted. He went to go collapse onto the nearest couch, but it was crammed with Avengers waiting outside the lab.

"What do you guys want?" Tony grumbled, yawning. Clint, who had flown in around the same time Tony left to find Peter, stood nervously.

"Did Peter really get hurt?" he asked. "He's...Spider-Man?"

"Yeah," Tony grumbled. It was hard to keep his eyes open.

"Guys, let him sleep," Natasha barked. "Look at him."

"I'm used to functioning on little sleep," Tony mumbled. But he still sank down into the comfy couch and drifted off to the sound of the news drawling on, talking about the recent battle that had taken place outside the Saberling Tower.

He awoke several times, drenched in sweat and holding back a scream as he watched Peter die again and again. He stood by, watching him get stabbed repeatedly and not being able to do anything to help.

When Tony opened his eyes to a window with a sunrise, the other Avengers were gone. In their place was a note that read: We've all gone to see the kid.

Tony peeled himself off the couch and headed to the laboratories.

Peter, still unconscious, was mostly fixed up now. His lung was stable enough to where Bruce had been able to take him off the ventilator and give him a simple nasal cannula sometime in the early hours of the morning.

Bruce himself looked even worse than Tony felt: he was missing a shoe, his glasses were crooked, and his hair looked like it had been teleported to a category 5 hurricane and then back on his head. Tony was starting to worry Peter might've been stitched up backwards or something.

The other Avengers had already left, apparently to help Pepper get breakfast ready for the kids, who had had an awful night full of tears and cookies. No one had slept that night except Tony, it seemed. Luckily he didn't feel guilty about it.

"He's a fighter," Bruce had commented between sips of coffee. "If not for his super healing, he'd be dead. Again."

"What uh...what happened exactly?" Tony asked, unsure if he really wanted that answer. "How did he... you know ...if he has superpowers?"

Bruce sighed for about thirty seconds before he answered.

"Well, he was banged up pretty good..." Bruce cleared his throat and placed his coffee mug on the counter. It read World's Best Multi-Tasker. "For starters, he was shot in the shoulder and the lung. Shoulder didn't take me too long to fix, but the lung would've been a problem if left alone. Had a hole in it, plus it was filling with blood and fluids."

Bruce continued to explain the excruciating details of Peter's lung, cleaning blood off his doctor-utensils. Tony looked away and tried not to gag.

"His breathing seems stable now. Sure took awhile to drain the fluid and air. You also said he was hit with a car, so obviously broken and bruised ribs, at the very least. Oops--"

Bruce dropped a little bloody knife on the ground and Tony sucked in his breath. "That's gross," he mumbled. Bruce grinned, handing Tony the two bullets in a zippy bag. It had Anna, Elsa, and Olaf the snowman on the front.