My spider baby, my responsibility

Congratulations Mr. Stark, you're a father

Tony was in his suit before the alert went off. He saw Peter come home, watched as his drunken aunt cornered him, and felt white-hot rage surge through him as she beat his kid. As a last-minute thought, he called another suit to follow. It was unlikely that May would go quietly, and he had no intention of calling the police so they could mess things up and pussyfoot around the issue.

Within five minutes, he'd gone from Manhattan to the Parkers apartment. Since he was already in the suit, he decided against taking the stairs and instead chose to make his presence known in typical Stark fashion. So, he and the Mark Five flew straight threw May's bedroom window - which he didn't feel guilty about what so ever. May had the nerve to look offended as Tony's metal assistant restrained her, pulling her arms behind her back rougher than was strictly necessary and kept her pressed face-first against the wall.

As much as Tony didn't want to, he bypassed the woman who'd caused his kid so much grief, only taking a second to order the suit to return to the Tower with May and wait in room A-One. He'd deal with her later. Right now, he needed to be there for Peter.

Hesitantly, he approached the injured teen and knelt in front of him. The poor kid was huddled in the corner, shaking violently and crying silently. Tony froze when he realized how much blood was on the floor; the top of Peter's jeans just below his hip was soaked in the red liquid. Keeping his movements slow and his hands visible, Tony continued to approach him, stopping short when Peter whimpered and tried to push himself farther into the corner, away from him.

"Hey, bud... it's o-okay." He held his hands out in a gesture of surrender in hopes of calming the kid's nerves which were very clearly shot. "It's Tony," he lifted the faceplate to prove his point, forcing a strained smile, "I'm here to take you home. That sound good?"

Peter stared at the mechanic wearily, tears steadily pouring down his cheeks. It was clear he recognized Tony, but the clouded, distant look in his eyes worried him. After a few moments, the young vigilante nodded but remained in his spot on the dirty, red-stained floor. When it became clear he wasn't going to move, Tony scooted closer and opened his arms. His knees would be aching tomorrow, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

"It'll be alright, bambino, I won't hurt you."

Peter didn't need any more prompting, and within a second, Tony had his arms full of a crying teenager. 

Tony didn't want to carry Peter in the Iron Man suit, with its cold, hard exterior that he felt would provide very little comfort. Still, it was the fastest way to get back to the Tower, and the billionaire was anything but patient, especially when it came to getting his son what he needed. He lifted the suit's faceplate as he flew to get a better look at the tiny, frail, injured hero in his arms.

The smaller wounds looked like they were healing rather quickly despite Peter's malnourished state. Some of the shallow cuts were already sealed, the new skin pink and fresh. But blood continued to slowly drip from his hip, the jagged shard of glass still embedded inside. Removing it would've only caused the wound to bleed more so the mechanic elected to leave it be for now.

"Hey, Underoos. You gotta stay awake for me, 'kay." He held the teen securely to his chest, weary of his injuries but unwilling to forfeit the comfort Peter desperately needed. "You're safe, bud, everything's going to be okay. Please stay awake." Reassurance after reassurance left his lips as he desperately tried to give the boy some relief as well as calm himself. "You're safe, you're safe, I'm here."

Peter laid his head on Tony's shoulder; his arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He used his sticking powers on instinct to ensure he wouldn't fall, even though he knew Tony would never let that happen. But it was also to make sure his mentor wouldn't leave.