Irondad Oneshots

Not just you (part 2)

Continued from Not just you (part 1)

Peter didn't know where he was going.

He didn't use his webs.

He just ran, the rain pelting his face.

Although part of the water on his face wasn't rain.

It hurt.

His dad didn't remember him.

'Product of my unsavoury past?'

'Illegitimate son?'

He stumbled into an alley, breathing too fast.

"I need- something- gotta be- can't- please- not here- not now-"

He slid down the wall, clutching his head in his hands, breath coming in gasps.

"Please no not here please."

Breathe, Parker.

Deep breaths.

Breathe.

He stared blindly at the cold stone under him, his fingers curling up, welcoming the pain of the rough material grating against his fingertips.

He had no idea how long he sat there, in the cold, rain soaking his hair, and drenching his clothes.

He felt numb.

His eyes closed of their own violition.

He didn't hear the worried voice telling him to wake up.

He didn't feel himself being picked up, and carried to the backseat of a car.

He didn't feel the warm tears dropping onto his face as Pepper tried to get him warm.

He didn't hear the doctors worriedly informing them of the damage the cold had done to his body.

Spiders can't thermoregulate, after all.

He didn't hear Pepper begging the doctors to help their boy.

And he didn't hear Tony asking for his son, then being informed of the situation.

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Peter drifted in and out.

Sometimes he was vaguely aware of voices, gentle touches, and at others, nothing.

He tried swimming, but he wasn't in water.

He tried walking, but there was no ground.

He couldn't move.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move a thing.

And suddenly he hurt.

So bad.

He was so, so cold.

And then he was in pain.

So much pain.

He put all he had into moving, trying to force his limbs to move, his mouth to open, to hear something other than this silence. This empty, cold silence.

And suddenly he was shooting up, in a hospital bed, body shaking as he coughed and shivered.

A monitor beside him was beeping like crazy, and not even a second had passed before there were people rushing into the room, pushing him down, asking questions, shining lights in his eyes, and getting him something for the pain.

"Tony-" he mumbled. "Tony. Please. Tony." Over and over, repeating the plea as well as he could.

One of the older nurses caught on quickly, and she gave him a quick smile. "Don't worry, kid. I'll get him."

He slumped back, allowing the doctors to poke and prod, tears stinging his eyes.

Please. I just want my dad. I want my dad.

The nurse came back in, barking orders.

The room quickly cleared out, only the one woman remaining.

She patted his arm. "Your dad'll be here in just a minute, okay?"

Peter nodded sluggishly. "Long've I b'n 'sleep?"

She smiled sympathetically. "Three days."

He forced his voice to work again. "'S m' dad 'k?"

"Your father is fine and dandy." She assured him. "Dr Banner gave him a clean bill of health. Got his memories back now too."

The door opened quickly, barely missing the nurse, and Tony hurried in.

He crossed the room, and sank down on the edge of Peter's bed.

His eyes were bright with unshed tears, and his hands were shaking as he cradled Peter's face between them.

"Pete- kid." His voice caught in his throat, and instead of trying to talk again, he pulled Peter into his arms.

Peter sank into the warmth and safety the arms held, his racing heart slowing.

Tony whispered soft words into Peter's hair, holding the boy close.

The teenager refused to let go, not giving up the tight grip on his dad.

Tony didn't mind in the least.

"It's okay now, Pete. I'm here. You're okay. Just breathe. Breathe, okay?"

Peter tried to inhale, stupidly wondering why.

Tony's hand traced gentle circles on Peter's back, the boy fighting to keep his breaths even.

"What were you thinking you little idiot?" Though the words were scolding, his voice was soft. "You could have been hurt. Worse than you already were. Talk to me Pete."

Peter tried to force words out of his dry throat. "'M sorry. 'M sorry."

Tony stiffened for a second. "Don't apologize. Do not apologize Pete."

Peter buried his face in Tony's shoulder. "You 'kay?"

Tony smoothed the teenager's hair away from his forehead, pressing a swift kiss to the damp curls. "I'm okay, bud. I'm worried about you. Are you okay? Because what I said-"

Peter shook his head quickly. "Shh."

Tony rested his chin on Peter's hair. "I'm sorry, okay? Forget what I said. You're my kid. Maybe not by blood, but you're my kid."

Peter mumbled unintelligibly.

Tony breathed a sigh, pulling the boy closer. "Love you Pete."

He had to strain to hear Peter's answer.

"Love you too."

"Dad."