Summary:

It's been two days six hours and twenty-three minutes since Tony Stark's been a coma.

And all Peter can do is hold his hand.

Wednesday, 3:25 p.m

Woodhaven Avenue

"Peter do you copy?" Tony's voice was staticky through his comms and Peter tapped at his ear until the signal finally sharpened.

"Copy Mr. Stark!" Peter launched a web to a street lamp, swinging down fifth, his stomach tightening the way it always did before a fight with the added pressure of trying to impress his mentor.

He knew Tony thought he was capable. Competent really. But…it never hurt to boost his rep. He wanted Tony to be proud of him, to feel safe in keeping the sanctity of New York in his hands. Those moments where Tony looked at him like the entire future was in his eyes? Peter lived for them.

"Okay, remember what we talked about, you stay back and help in the evacuation and me and Rhodey'll deal with the bad guys."

Peter scrunched his face, free to be as petulant as he wanted behind the secrecy of his mask. "Mr. Stark-"

"Ah-ah-ah, no Mr. Starks from you. This is serious stuff kid, I'm not taking chances."

"Come on! I fought the Vulture on my own! And that Rhino guy and then there was that whole saving the universe thing-"

"Are you seriously pulling the universe card right now?" Tony coughed to hide a snort and Peter grinned- Tony wasn't fooling anyone, he knew he was funny.

"Is it working?"

"Nope." Tony popped the 'p' sounding delighted with Peter's exaggerated groan. But just as suddenly, his voice dropped to a more serious note and Peter knew he wasn't going to like it, "Pete, I'm serious. Part of being on a team is knowing how to take orders. If you can't do that-"

"I can do that!" he interjected quickly, swinging faster, "I can do that I just- want to help you more."

Tony's voice softened, "You're already a huge help kid, relax a little."

God, Peter could just imagine him mussing his hair and giving him that lopsided grin Tony had whenever he gave any kind of pep-talk. Grumbling, though he couldn't help his small smile, Peter agreed. "Fine. But I want to take on more next time."

"We'll see."

"Mr. Stark!"

And this time, Tony laughed out loud.

Thursday, 6:10 pm

MedBay, Avengers Tower

"Peter honey, you need to eat something." Pepper's voice flows like syrup, slow and gentle. It feels like he can't quite hear her, too slow to make sense.

Peter looks up, the circles under his eyes darkening under the harsh hospital light. Pepper's expression drops- just a fraction, just a bit, just enough for Peter to know he must look horrible- if the second strongest woman he knows is looking at him like she wants to cry. She wants him to go. Probably take a shower, drink something that wasn't just tepid water, eat something that wasn't a cracker, look at something that wasn't these damned white walls and white sheets and white everything.

But Peter doubts he can even stand.

His legs feel disconnected from his body, his entire lower half long since numbed from when he planted himself on the hospital chair and stayed vigil at Tony's bedside. Peter's head drops into his hands. God. How could he even think of moving, when Tony couldn't move at all.

"Peter."

Pepper had gotten closer. He never even noticed. Her hand is under his chin, forcing him to look up into her expressive eyes, brown and compassionate and grieving. "Peter, you can't do this to yourself."

Mirthless, he looks up at her with nothing but loss and self-loathing. "Why not? I did this to him didn't I?"

Pepper's fingers around his chin tighten, "Don't say that." it comes out breathy and intense and at any other time it would have made his heart clench and head bow in apology but this time he knows what's true and what isn't and he knows that Pepper Potts has an iron heart but she can't say anything that could change the past.

No one could.

And Tony had to suffer for of it.

Wednesday 3:34 pm

Point Zero

The second he got close to the fight, he smelled it. The scent of burnt wood and insulation was unmistakable, as was the smoke the curled into the sky like warning signs. Peter heard the whir of the Iron Man suits, though for which hero he wasn't sure, and started his job with gusto. He was clearing out the whole block, running into buildings and yelling for people to evacuate along routes Karen supplied him.

He jumped through a window when he heard screaming and ushered everyone out safely, constantly keeping one ear out for Tony. He heard metal crashing into concrete and his heart stopped before Tony muttered some annoyed one-liner and soared into the sky like a shooting star. Peter looked up, giving himself just a second to watch as the repulsors formed contrails that arced in the sky before Tony pressed his gauntlets together creating a megablast that decimated the enemy below.

Peter ran in the direction of a small apartment complex when he saw three HYDRA guys racing towards Tony, guns pointed upwards.

In that moment, every thought he had vanished. Not sparing a single second to think about his assignment, Peter launched upwards, webbing to a street lamp to swing above them, throwing three pulse webs onto the barrels. The guns exploded in their hands as the pressure mounted inside and Peter grinned beneath his mask. He reached out to land another web when he heard a choked, "Pet-" followed by the worst sound Peter had ever heard.

It felt like a meteor had crash landed to Earth. The crater cracking the concrete underneath, smoke sizzling from the snapped wires. Peter froze mid-air. The cacophony of the fight fading as the smell of blood overwhelmed him and the sound of mechanics fizzing out blared in his ears and the dryness of his mouth made him light-headed and all he could see was Tony, blood pooling over his brow. The suit split open, showing the hole right through his ribs and the burnt edges of skin.

A whirring sound revved up behind him. Pounding in his ears. Tony's eyes were closed. His chest wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing. The whirring got louder. He wasn't breathing. Blood everywhere. All he smelled was blood.

Peter dropped to the ground, his throat aching from his roaring, eyes of his suit narrowing into slits. Faster than he'd ever moved, he threw himself onto the attacker, ripping the gun from his clutches and bashing him in the head with it. Flipping backwards, he shot two webs, smashing the two agents into the wall, their heads rolling from the impact. From the corner of his eye, Peter saw a fourth agent, a knife in his hand. He was walking towards Tony. No. No way.

"Get away from him!"

Crazed and enraged, Peter forgot about his webs and his upgrades and his super-strength. His fist found the man's face and punched. The man collapsed to the floor but Peter wasn't done he wasn't done he wasn't- "Kid! Peter! Hey!" metal arms clamped over him, dragging him away from the bloody mess he left.

He wanted it to be Tony. He wanted it to be Tony so desperately he almost closed his eyes and let himself pretend. But the arms clamped around him weren't the iconic red he'd grown up admiring, but a solid grey. He thought he was yelling but his throat felt hoarse and there was something wet dripping all down his face and he kicked and he pulled until he felt everything inside of him give way when Rhodey hugged him tight, face plate melting away. "Kid…" and all Peter could do was collapse on his knees, gripping Tony's hand.

"It's my fault it's my fault it's all my fault." Peter sobbed on the ground, rocking back and forth while Rhodey- infinitely more capable and useful and the kind of backup Tony needed instead of him- dealt with the aftermath of Peter's mistake.

If Rhodey tried to comfort him, Peter couldn't hear it. All he could hear was Tony gasping his name, the sound of a blast ripping through his body, and Iron Man crashing to the ground.

Tony had told him to stay out of it. Why didn't he listen? He should've listened.

Friday, 3:12 a.m.

MedBay

Peter can't sleep.

Over and over Tony's defeat booms in his head, louder and louder, angry and malignant and accusing. Regret isn't something new to Peter. His first suit was born from it. Putting that mask on was a reminder every day of what Uncle Ben died for and how Peter could do better. He could trace regret along the ridges of his Stark suit, a feeling of failure of taking on more than he could. The pit in his stomach when his hero's eyes filled with disappointment. Regret coursed through him and transformed into a dedication to always be better. Always be stronger. Smarter. Faster. Regret was an old friend he coerced into a strength but now it festers inside him and reminds him and over and over that he's a curse.

His fingers hesitate over the door to Tony's room. He can hear the soft breathing from inside. The sound of the monitors and machines whirring in the background. The quiet of the night. Peter grips the knob, head bowed and trembling. He could go in. Sit next to him, hold his hand, press it to his forehead and pray harder than he ever has.

He never got this chance with Ben.

Never got the chance to pray and beg and plead that something bigger than he ever could be to bring his uncle back to him. Ben died in his arms, instant and agonizing. But Tony is alive. Somewhere inside himself, he was trying to find a way out and Peter prays with everything he has in him, but he can't go in. How could he? When it was his fault and it was always his fault because every father he's ever loved had died and he should've known better this time. He should've known better.

He became Spiderman to help people. But all he ever did was hurt the people he cared most about.

Heart deep in the dark, Peter pulls his hand away, something hot burning behind his eyes. Slowly, like every step hurt him at a level too abstract to understand, Peter walks away.

He finds himself on the roof.

He throws his legs over the edge, not even kicking, still in the midst of all the city's chaos. The night is cold despite being June. But he's so deep in his mind that the chill seeps into his bones and rests there. It felt a bit like his heart.

The sun rises, slowly and weakly across the cloudy sky. Vaguely, Peter remembers always wanting to see the sunrise from the tower roof. One of the highest points in the city with such an unobstructed view would be incredible. But seeing it now just makes him feel emptier than before because all the beauty in the world meant nothing if Tony died because of him.

If Tony died, he'd take all the sunrises with him.

Peter sits on the roof for so long the numbness in his legs fades and his eyes stop seeing, they just look and look and look and Peter wonders if he looks far enough into the horizon could he find God to ask him the only important question?

So wrapped in his thoughts, Peter doesn't hear a thing until May's hand is on his shoulder. "Peter. How long have you been up here?"

Peter turns to her, head at an angle like he just didn't have the strength to keep it up. "A while." he shrugs; he doesn't know.

May assesses him, scrutinizing the dry tracks on his cheeks and the ache in his eyes before looking out into the city and the ledge. Taking a breath, May steps up, biting her lip as the wind gushes past her, but brave beyond measure, she sits down next to her nephew and takes his hand. "Why are you avoiding Tony?" she asks finally, the sunlight shining through her hair like amber.

Peter stays silent. Eyes boring into his lap.

May takes his hand, squeezes it, and with the other, lifts his chin to look at her. "Peter…it's not your fault."

And the sincerity in her face hits him so hard he flinches. He rips his hand from hers, burying his face within his trembling fingers. "Don't say that. How can you say that? He- he told me not to but I- I did it anyway and then I wasn't paying attention and then he-" and he isn't crying- he isn't- but the emotions won't stop bursting inside him and he feels like he's going to die from them because he's a curse, he killed everyone who loved him and-

May grabs him. Hands tight around his face, eyes fervent and undeterred. "Peter." and the firmness of her voice pulls him from his spiral. "I'm not a superhero. I don't have any powers or abilities or a crazy suit. But if I was Tony? And I was there in that moment? You know what I would've done?"

Peter looks at her and his lip trembles.

May just smiles, caressing his cheek. "The exact same thing."

Peter stops. "Wh-what?"

"Tony is a lot of things, but the kind of person to let someone he loves get hurt isn't one of them." the tear burning in his eye finally slips and he presses his cheek into May's palm, "You know what Tony told me once? It was after a dinner party. You had left early to go see The Force Awakens for the third time with Ned and he just watched you leave with the sweetest face I'd ever seen."

Peter shakes his head, almost wishing she would stop, but May carries on, her voice soft. "He looked at you and told me that he thought when the Avengers left him it was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. But that he almost doesn't care anymore because he got something so much better." Peter's heart aches, "Looking after you these years made him realize he could be a father. And that he loved every second of it."

"And you'll understand this one day when you're older. But there's nothing a parent wouldn't do for their child." her hands moved to his shoulders, drawing him into her, "Do you think you can try to understand that Peter? Tony loves you and he'll never apologize for protecting you because that's what he has to do and it's never your fault. A parent will always protect their kid, no matter what."

And pressed between her hand and her neck, Peter cries.

Peter sits vigil next to Tony's bed-side for seven days. Tony never moves, never speaks, not even as much as a tremble. But Peter sits, determined, at his side because if it is Tony's duty to protect him then it is Peter's duty to believe in him. And to love him and to thank him and to tell him he appreciated him.

"I don't know what I'll do if you die." his voice seems loud in the emptiness.

Peter's lip quirks up, a shadow of a smile. "It's really dumb Mr. Stark. It's really…after Ben-" he pauses, biting his lip and mustering the strength to keep going, "After Ben," he starts again, "I thought that…that if I had just been better, then I could've…well…then maybe he wouldn't have had to go."

"After that, it was just me and May and being Spiderman and I thought helping Queens would make me feel better- and it did! I love being Spiderman. You know that I do. But I still…I felt so lost." his voice cracks and he pulls his hand from Tony's to press against his mouth, "I just felt like I didn't really know how to move on or how to be a hero or whether I was doing right by Ben because that's all I really wanted, you know? And then you came to our apartment that day and I-"

Peter tries to laugh, "I don't think either of us thought this is where we'd end up now. But I thought it would be okay if I…if I pretended you were kinda like my dad because what happened to- what happened to Ben could never happen you. And this time I was better too. And it would be okay because you're Iron Man. You always come back." Peter picks up Tony's hand, pressing it against his forehead like he could ruffle his hair at any moment, "Always."

Thursday 1:53 p.m.

MedBay

Tony wakes up on a Thursday.

Peter's in the shower, scrubbing the stress off his shoulders when FRIDAY startles him. "Peter, he's awake now."

Wide-eyed, Peter glances up, though he knows FRIDAY has no cameras in the bathroom and leaps out, soap suds drizzling down his neck. Peter dries himself furiously, the towel leaving pink irritation marks across his skin as he skids into his bedroom, rifling for anything wearable. He's still putting on his shirt as he runs down the hall, relief flooding through him, but he has to see him. Has to see him to prove that it's real. That it isn't just a dream. He has to-!

The door flies open and Tony looks at him for a split second before throwing himself back on the bed, his hands pushing through his hair in exasperated relief. "Oh thank God. I thought you were somewhere in here too when you weren't jumping around me when I-"

But Peter doesn't let him finish his sentence before he throws himself into his mentor's arms, burying his face into his chest. "Mr. Stark. You were in a coma for eleven days and that's the first thing you say?" he can't even help his watery laughter.

Tony's arms wrap around him like Peter was made for his embraces. "I always worry about you kid. It's part of the job."

And Peter closes his eyes, thinking of May's words and everything he'd felt watching Tony sleep with no guarantee of waking.

"You could have…Mr. Stark you-" but Peter can't finish his sentence, can't even form the words.

But Tony always filled the gaps, poured love into the spaces between them. "Kid, you know there's nothing I wouldn't do to come back right?" Tony pulls away, brushing the hair from Peter's brow. "I'm never going to apologize for saving you. A big bad's on its way and it's a toss-up between you and me?" he squeezes Peter's arm, "I choose you every time."

But Peter shakes his head, prepped to argue but Tony presses a hand against his mouth. "But before you start, I heard what you said- some of it anyway- and I wanted you to know, that no matter what, I'll come back. Iron Man always comes home."

And with just those few words, Peter's expression crumples and he falls into Tony's chest, clutching him tight. Tony always came home. Right back to him. And Peter would always wait.

Always.