A/N: Absolutely love the Irondad bingo going around on tumblr, so I wanted to write 25 of my own here. Not quite sure who started the bingo game or how it works (oh how my research skills have failed me) but this prompt is from madatthesea's bingo card, so definitely go check their stuff out if you like this!

Peter's nerves felt like a live wire. Crazy and buzzing with energy, dangerously active. Even his heart was in his stomach, flopping around haphazardly.

"You sure you've got everything?"

Peter looked around. Aux cord leading from his phone to the stereo to give him directions (but no texting, May had said. If he died texting and driving, May would bring him back to life and kill him again herself. Of that, she'd promised). License and registration in the glove box. He pat the many pockets of his cargo shorts until he could feel the lump that was his wallet. "Yeah. Yeah, I've got everything."

May gave him a knowing smile as she leaned through the passenger window to give his shoulder a squeeze, hair falling over her shoulder. "Okay, but can I offer you a tip?"

Peter smirked at her. His sweet, beautiful, amazing aunt who worried way too much. She was going to go gray before Peter so much as got his diploma. "I've got this. I promise."

"I know you do, but just hear me out. If the car starts giving you trouble-"

"Call you. I know, May. I'll be fine. Really."

"No. I was going to say that when the car gives you trouble with turning on, you might want to try using these?" She reached into her purse and pulled out Peter's keychain, car key reflecting the evening sunlight into his eyes, mocking him.

Peter flushed down to his neck as he reached his hand out to take the keys from her. "O-oh yeah. Remembering these uh… might be kinda useful, huh?" He fumbled with them, making sure to unhook the little iron man figure that had been a permanent fixture on the keychain for years. Someone didn't need to be seeing that later, because someone would never live it down.

May just laughed. "Alright, my little genius. Have fun and be safe. Call me as soon as you get to the compound. Are you sure you don't want me to drive you? Or Happy? I'm sure Happy wouldn't mind."

Peter was pretty sure that Happy would most definitely mind driving all the way down to Queens all of the sudden.

"I'm fine, May. I'll call you ."

"I'm serious! Don't forget, or I'll call Tony and give him an earful."

Peter grimaced. He might actually die of embarrassment from that. He couldn't even picture Tony on the phone with May in full mama bear mode. "I know you will."

May heaved a sigh and pulled her body out of the passenger side window, clasping her hands in front of her until her knuckles turned white.

"May, are you crying?"

"No!" she yelled, but she choked on her words and sniffed, and Peter didn't need any enhanced sight to see the telltale sheen of tears in her eyes. "It's just… the allergies are kind of bad, and-"

"May!"

"-And my baby is growing up!"

"May, it- it's okay. I'm not going that far, I'm just… I don't have to go."

"No! No. Happy tears. All happy tears. I'm proud of you. It's just going by so fast." She brushed the tears away quickly before they could fall and ruin her makeup, and waved him off. "You need to get going. You're going to be late."

"Right. Right." Peter turned the key and the car, well… it didn't roar to life. It more so wheezed and sputtered to life, begrudgingly accepting that it was going to go on yet another journey that it wasn't really up for. It was an old car by then. Really old. Older than Peter, actually, if he was remembering correctly. New cars were expensive. And besides, he didn't think May would give the car up even if she did have the money for a new auto loan. This had been Ben's car, and she was sentimental to a fault.

He rolled the window up, thankful that it at least wasn't so old that he had to crank it back up, and there was a rather awkward minute where May was still on the sidewalk next to their apartment building, waving, never stopping, still waving, while Peter made the car buck forward and backward again and again in a sad attempt to shimmy out of the parallel spot that May had somehow managed to squeeze into when she'd pulled the car around (seriously, how did she even get into the spot to begin with?) until finally breaking free into traffic.

He glanced up into the rearview mirror as he drove away, May shrinking into just a dot behind him whenever her form wasn't blocked by other cars. She hadn't moved from her spot on the sidewalk, and though Peter couldn't tell from the angle he was at, he was sure she was still waving slightly. He'd put money on it.

He shook his head and focused on the road in front of him. All honking horns and red lights and stop, then go, no stop! Until he finally broke through the reckless boundaries of the city and all the skyscrapers and tall buildings faded into the background, replaced by suburbia and trees and greenery.

It would be a long drive to the compound. Tony's retirement party. A superhero only retirement party. And even if the party was basically an announcement to the rest of the superheroes (and only the other superheroes, lest some less than stellar people catch wind of Tony stepping off the scene) that Tony was giving up Iron Man for a quieter life, well, he would still always be Iron Man.

His nerves jumped again, almost dizzying, and he looked over to gush to May, only, oh yeah, she was still back in Queens. It was just Peter this time, and the thought felt weird. There was no safety net without her. No 'Peter it's not a four-way stop!' and slamming on the breaks a moment before darting out into oncoming traffic.

He rolled the window down and leaned his arm out, feeling the wind wrap around his fingers and tug at them like a kite. It was a bitter kind of cold outside (upstate New York was good at that) but he paid it no mind. It felt like it did when he would careen between buildings back in Queens.

It was freeing, the whole 'driving all on his own' thing, though he wasn't quite sure why. He'd undoubtedly been a lot freer than most other teens his age, what with Happy picking him up at every other location, the stellar- well, maybe not stellar - okay far from stellar - but extensive New York subway system letting him go pretty much wherever whenever he so pleased… and the whole soaring between buildings thing.

No, he wasn't freer, but there was just something about it. A certain quality that he couldn't quite put his finger to. It was like having the training wheels taken off when he was little. As one hour, then two hours slipped by and he sped through winding roads, he felt older. More competent. More trusted. More adult. All the things he yearned for most out of life. And, it was kind of crazy that an old beat up 2000 Honda Civic could make him feel like that, but hell. Why fight it? He'd soak in all the joy he could before Tony would inevitably come out complaining about the old car he'd been driving and insist on Happy picking him up next time. Which, wouldn't be happening. There would be no going back after this.

The sun began setting, hanging low in the sky, a piercing orange over the treetops. Peter squinted through his sunglasses and flipped down the visor, but it wasn't enough. Some rays still managed to burst through, leaving a bright green spot over his vision no matter where he looked. Or, maybe it was bright pink? He shook his head and his stomach flipped, and not in the overexcited way it had been all morning long.

Even behind the sunglasses, the bright rays set off alarms in his head. It felt like his head was a pinball machine, pain ricocheting between his ears so quickly that he couldn't keep up with it or even brace himself for it. He cursed under his breath and could have sworn that he tasted bile rise in the back of his throat.

For all the good that his heightened senses did for him, they made up for it ten times over in days spent hunched over the bathroom toilet or in bed with the blankets pulled securely around his face because the sights and the smells and the sounds were all just too much for one person to possibly handle.

He couldn't sink down into the seat and tuck his head between his knees and take shallow breaths now like he so desperately wanted to, though. He was driving.

And so, he squinted into the sun and swallowed hard, nuclear sirens in his head be damned, and kept driving. His eyes watered and he gripped the steering wheel. No matter how much willpower he had to keep on, though, there was a point at which it wasn't his choice anymore, at which his body would close his eyes and shut the whole thing down, because no matter the consequences, at least it wouldn't be so bright anymore.

He was nearing that point.

Maybe that was why when goosebumps pricked up on the back of his arms and he knew something was wrong, he was sluggish in pinpointing exactly what until, literally, it was glaring at him right in the face: a deer in the road.

It stood and stared at him, his headlights beaming back off of its eyes and turning them to a fluorescent blue. MOVE, Peter wanted to scream, but she just flapped her ears at him and continued chewing on a bit of leaf that was hanging out the side of her mouth.

Peter slammed on the brakes and was thrown against the seatbelt with such force that he worried that it might snap. Either the seatbelt was going to snap, or his collarbone. One of the two. Of that, he was sure. Pain burst across his shoulder and chest with a sharpness he didn't even think was possible, and he was pretty sure that the seatbelt had just won.

The brakes locked up, ABS light on the dash be damned, and the car skid, regardless of how quickly Peter pumped the brakes and tried to channel the information from his days falling asleep in the back of the driver's ed classroom at school. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" he shouted

It was too little too late, though, and he quickly realized that there was no way he was going to stop in time to avoid the deer, and also no way he was going to allow himself to hit the deer. The poor thing had done nothing to deserve this.

He gripped the steering wheel and yanked, using perhaps a bit too much super strength than the job required. The car veered off into the oncoming lane with a thud that he prayed wasn't the deer even though there was nothing else it could possibly be, and kept going.

Peter felt his heart leap into his throat. This could not be happening. He overcorrected and pulled the steering wheel in the opposite direction, but it was too big a force on too small a car, too little too late, and it slid right off the edge of the road.

Peter saw it all happen in slow motion, realized with horror that it wasn't just flat ground on the other side of the road, but a ditch. A big ditch, with water coursing through it from the last rainfall that had to be at least four feet deep.

Oh no.

What had those dumb commercials that were always on the radio said? That as little as a few inches of water could wash you away, all amid a cheery "turn around, don't drown, your car is not a boat" jingle. Oh God, oh God, oh God. The car rolled into it, and even for Peter's enhanced senses, he wasn't quite sure what was happening.

All he could remember was that damn jingle, with a new sort of foreboding edge.

The sound was, well, deafening wouldn't do it justice. It sounded like his eardrums should have split open. It didn't sound like metal on dirt. It sounded like the meteor that killed the dinosaurs had come back for round two. Everything outside the window was a blur, rolling around in a mess of brown and green and black and crunching metal, and then suddenly he could see nothing.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

It was all happening in slow motion. Or- no, nothing was moving in slow motion. His thoughts were just racing at double the speed. Everything around him was just slow in comparison.

The only thought that managed to race though, though, was that this was going to hurt. Really, really bad. That, and the stupid jingle. But, there was nothing Peter could do anymore. Nothing he could do to get himself out of the car in time, to correct its course, to do anything but squeeze the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and the leather stitching on the cover gave way from the brunt of the force, close his eyes, brace himself, and wait for the worst of it to hit.

But, oh boy, he didn't brace himself enough. He couldn't brace himself enough. There was no preparing yourself for that kind of impact. His neck was thrown to the side and his skull crashed against the portion of the driver's side window, that- thank God, he'd rolled back up a few minutes earlier due to the cold.

He heard a brief shattering noise. The windshield in front of him sagged in, the safety glass doing all it could to stay in one piece before giving way under the force of the ditch water.

Hundreds of little glass shards filled the car around him, biting into his face before he was met with a disgusting mouthful of water, all of it pouring into the car faster than he could manage to catch his breath. He accidentally swallowed a mouthful before he could figure out what was going on, and as he felt a cutting pain tear down his throat and into his stomach, he realized with horror that he must have swallowed a piece of glass, too. Then, oh God, oh God, oh God, the water became hot. Too hot. Way too hot.

The car was still on and running as the water in the ditch rushed from under the hood and burning engine (or maybe the heater core had burst? He didn't know- he wasn't a mechanic) through the broken windshield, and onto Peter. It didn't matter how it happened. What mattered was that Peter was being boiled alive and he couldn't stop a guttural yelp from bursting forward, the sound alien even to his own ears.

He jumped, fumbling for the button to release his seatbelt through the almost boiling water, hands turning into claws as he fought to ignore every instinct telling him to get his hand out of the burning water that instant. Finally, he found it, and the seatbelt snapped away from him. Peter jumped out of the hot water and stuck to the top of the car, which was actually the right side of the car now that the whole thing was turned on its side, scanning the damage below him for the one thing he needed to take with him out of this accident: his suit. It was floating in the backseat, and as he reached out to grab it, his left shoulder screamed in pain. When did that happen? In the back of his mind, he remembered a snap and a crunch as he was thrown against the seatbelt and please tell him that wasn't his shoulder. He had a sickening feeling that it was.

With the little strength he had left, he shoved his back against the passenger window, the same one May had leaned through to tell him to be careful, to tell him that she was proud of him, shattered the glass, and crawled through. Using just his right arm and right leg, because something had happened to his left knee, too, ( why not? It was just his kind of luck) to crawl out of the ditch.

He cast a glance over his shoulder at the car, wedged in place between the walls of the ditch as sewer water yanked loose pieces of metal off of it and swept them away downstream. Totaled. It was completely and utterly totaled.

How on earth was he going to tell May? For a wild second, he tried to think of any way possible not to tell her. He could swing the rest of the way to the compound, get a new car, with all the same stains on the upholstery, somehow make the money appear out of nowhere, and pretend that nothing had happened.

He groaned, fumbling through his pocket for his phone, which, miraculously, had stayed put. This couldn't be happening. Unmiraculously, the phone didn't quite survive the water damage. He groaned again, louder this time, and splayed all of his limbs out on the side of the road truly and fully. Karen it was, then.

He reached up to pull the mask on and winced, trying his best to do it one-handed. Using his left arm, or left anything for that matter, was not happening. He only got the mask halfway down his face before Karen beeped to life. Good enough.

"Good evening, Peter."

"Even'n," he mumbles.

"You appear to have several lacerations and trauma to the neck, as well as fractures and sprains along the left side."

"You don't say."

"Shall I contact Mr. Stark for you?"

"Absolutely not."

"I'm sorry, Peter, but it's protocol to contact Mr. Stark whenever a severe injury has been detected."

"Karen, noooooooo," he whined softly, but it was too late, and he already heard the dial tone in his ears. Ugh. He was almost tempted to have Ned hack back into Karen to turn off all of Tony's ridiculous safety precautions again. Why'd she even ask if she was just going to do it anyway? He dragged his good hand across his face and briefly considered ripping the mask off and throwing it to the ditch below, groundbreaking technology be damned.

But, the line only rang twice before Tony's face filled the screen in front of his eyes.

"Kid? I thought I told you. Drive straight here. No crime-fighting detours. What part of that was confusing?"

Peter groaned. "The drive straight part, evidently"

"What?"

"Nothing. It's nothing, Mr. Stark. I'll… I'll just be a bit late. That's all I was calling to tell you."

Tony squinted at him with that telltale 'bullshit' twist to his mouth that Peter hadn't seen since the ferry incident. Oh, God, the ferry incident. He shook the memory out of his head and groaned when the motion made his head pound. When had he hit his head?

"You didn't call. Karen did. How late are we talking?"

"Um." He tried doing the math in his head. He couldn't swing. He couldn't walk. Hell, he didn't even know if he could stand. He very well might just topple over if he tried. This wasn't going to happen, was it?

He rested his head back on the edge of the curb, relishing in the coolness. He wasn't getting out of this without telling anyone. This sucked. This really, really sucked.

"Peter?"

"Uh… depends. How long would you say it would take to swing one handed to the compound? Or hop on one foot? Or clear a wreck?"

"You- What-?"

"There was a deer." Peter said plainly.

"And you hit it?"

"It and… a lot of other things."

"Well-" Tony sputtered, mouth gaping like a fish out of water with no noise coming out. "Are you okay? Actually, don't answer that. I'm looking at Karen's data now."

"No. No, I'm fine. Totally, 100% fine."

Tony shot him a belligerent glance. "Tell me, kid. If whiplash, a sprained ankle, first and second-degree burns, and a broken collarbone is 'totally 100% fine,' what does your not fine look like? Enlighten me."

"Uh-"

"Yeah. That's what I thought. "

As the adrenaline wore off, the pain set in. He thought that the initial impact was bad? Ha! He'd felt nothing, hyped up in fight or flight mode. Now was when the real pain started, and it was worse than Peter could have imagined. Easily the worst pain in his life, so far anyway, and he'd been through his fair share. He couldn't even pinpoint where. "Shit this hurts."

Tony frowned on screen. "What hurts, exactly?"

"Everything," Peter moaned.

"Alright. That's it. I don't care if Karen says there are no life-threatening injuries. We're calling you an ambulance."

"No no no! Karen is right. I'm fine. Just hurts is all. 'M just being dramatic." Even as he said that, a new wave of pain coursed through his left side and it was all Peter could do to swallow hard, squeeze one eye closed, and not yelp.

Tony's eyes softened. "I know, kid. I know. Just make sure you're in a safe place and hang in there… you sure you're fine? Because if you're not and I didn't call an ambulance-"

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark. Really. I promise. 'S not worth letting any paramedics in on the whole Spiderman thing."

Tony glared at him, calculating, for a few moments more.

"What?"

He smirked. "So… if you're really okay, then that means I can make fun of you for it now, right?"

"No. No, it does not mean that." He squinted at Tony. "Karen, you're such a tattle-tale," he tacked on under his breath, not intending for it to reach Tony's ears, but of course it did anyway. Because that was just his luck, wasn't it?

"Did you just say tattle-tale? Really? You know, Karen wouldn't have to tell on you if you, y' know, did the smart thing and told me you needed help on your own."

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. "Ugh. Can you please just quit with the smart remarks and come help me?"

The other end of the line went silent. "I can do exactly one of those things."

'Mph," Peter huffed, and listened to the sound of the Iron Man suit firing up and roaring over the line, and Tony hitting him with a whole arsenal of one-liners the whole flight.

"Would you look at that? He takes down airplanes and cars! He's multitalented!"

"Don't worry, I'm sure you still look absolutely smashing."

"Hey, hey, hey, I heard you got an eight out of ten on your driving test. Guess the other two must have jumped out of the way, huh?"

Peter pulled the edge of the mask up - and ow, he forgot about his shoulder again- so that there was room to shove his middle finger into view of the camera.

Tony merely snorted and kept on. Peter closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the curb, the rest of his body on the narrow strip of grass between the road and the ditch. Man, he was tired. More tired than he'd been in a long time.

"Kid?"

Peter just let out a nonsensical "mph" in response, which evidently didn't make it to Tony's ears this time over the sound of the suit in flight.

"Kid!"

He cracked his eyes open to the panicked edge in Tony's voice.

"Oh thank God."

Peter arched an eyebrow up.

"Listen. I know Karen said that your injuries weren't on the life-threatening side of things, but what do you expect me to think after you've just been in a wreck, close your eyes, and stop answering?"

"Relax. 'M just tired."

Tony blinked. "No. No, you do not take a nap at the side of the road. Jesus. Do you need a lesson in common sense or something?"

"Probably."

Tony rolled his eyes. "But… you're definitely okay? I mean, I know you're not okay okay, but like- not dying or something?"

Peter chuckled. "Yes, Mr. Stark. How many times do you want me to say it before you believe me?" He knew the answer, though. It was until he could see him in person.

"Fine. You're right, you're right… More jokes, then?"

"Oh, no, no, no, Mr. Stark. I didn't say that!"

He snickered to himself. "Well. Lucky for you, I'm almost there, so I'll spare the rest for the drive back. Happy is on his way."

"No, not Happy!" But, Tony didn't answer. If Peter had to spend the rest of the drive to the compound in the back of Happy's car, again, he might actually just choose to jump out the window and hop the rest of the way.

He tilted his head back and saw the familiar form of Iron Man descending from the sky and land next to him with a powerful thud that made the earth- and his head and fractured bone- shake. Ow.

It was the first time Peter had seen Tony back in the suit since he snapped, and Peter was too banged up to even appreciate it. The irony of Tony suiting up again at his retirement party as Iron Man wasn't lost on him, though. Peter considered it only a retirement of sorts, though. Everyone knew, permanently injured with a mechanical arm and blind in one eye or not, nothing would ever really keep Tony from Ironman when push came to shove.

Tony took the helmet off and let out a low whistle. "You look like shit."

Peter stared up at him with half-lidded eyes. "Gee. Thanks."

His forehead creased with worry as he evaluated the scene. "No. I mean that this is worse than Karen made it sound. A lot worse."

"I told you. 'M perfectly fine." He barely got the words out before trying to sit up and pain tearing through the left side of his body with a guttural sort of yelp.

"Hey! Easy!" Tony planted a firm ironclad hand on his shoulder and helped him into a sitting position. "This is not fine. Christ, I almost feel bad for teasing you the whole way here."

"Don't worry. I forgive you."

"I said almost."

With a hand more gentle than Peter would have expected possible for Tony, he peeled back Peter's eyes and shone a light in them.

Peter closed them tight and turned his head to the side. "What are you doing?"

"Your pupils are different sizes."

"That's not good."

Tony pinched his lips together. "No. It's not. Follow my finger with your eyes."

"Mr. Stark. I'm fine. Really."

"Just do it."

"Okay, okay." Peter relented and followed Tony's pointer finger as he moved it slowly from side to side. What was this supposed to do, exactly?

"Cool. What about that light a second ago? Too bright?"

"Uh…" Peter thought. "I guess?"

Tony frowned, the creases on forehead starting to look as though they'd be etched there permanently. "That's also not good."

"Is it not?"

"Nope. Photosensitivity is another concussion symptom... Aren't you supposed to be, like, boy genius or something? Don't you know this stuff?"

"Well, I mean." Peter shrugged, one-shouldered. "I always think lights are too bright, so... not much of a difference from the norm. That's why I hit the deer in the first place. Too much sun. Too much super sight."

Tony paused to look at him for a moment at that. "You... what? That's a thing?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I really thought I had a handle on it."

"You didn't."

"What insightful observation." Tony wasn't particularly fond of how much of his sarcasm Peter was taking on, which made it that much more tempting for Peter to use.

He laid back down on the ground and covered his eyes with his hands. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Hey. Don't worry about the crash right now. Just take it easy. We'll get you patched up in a bit, and I'll call someone out here to get the car." He spared a look into the ditch. "Or, y' know. What's left of it."

Peter followed his gaze. "Is there any chance it can be fixed?"

"Ha! Nope. This is a 'throw the whole car away' kind of deal."

Peter merely groaned.

Tony patted him on the shoulder. "Seriously. Don't worry about the car. You're not the first teen to total the family car and you sure as hell won't be the last. As long as you're okay, the car can be replaced."

"No, it can't."

Tony looked back at the car again. Even being totaled aside, it wasn't a great looking car. Hadn't been for some time. He raised an eyebrow at Peter.

"It was Ben's car."

"Ben?"

"Ben. My uncle. May's husband."

The playful glint in Tony's eyes- the one that always tried to lighten up the situation with inappropriate and poorly timed jokes, was snuffed out in an instant.

"... Oh."

"Yeah."

"Ummm…" Tony and Peter looked over the scene once more. Maybe there was something they missed, some way to fix this. There had to be a way, right? They were geniuses. But, there wasn't. The car was done. It had driven its last mile once and for all.

"She's going to be so mad." Peter covered his face with his hands.

"Yeah… yeah, she probably will be."

"Ugh."

Tony kneeled by him and pulled his hands from his face with a strangled "Sorry, oh my God, I'm so sorry!" at Peter's Yelp when the movement jostled his shoulder. He hesitated for a moment. Everyone had thought that having a kid would make Tony a bit better at the "giving a pep talk" thing, but it had only made him better at cheering Morgan up. He was still completely out of his element with everyone else.

"May wants you safe. The car is just a reminder of family. You're her actual family."

He sighed. "I guess."

"No. Not I guess. You're what matters. End of story."

Peter just let out a huff. He knew Tony was right, but it didn't exactly help the situation, either.

"Well one way or another, we need to get you back to the compound before your shoulder sets weird or something. Or before you up and freeze to death. You're soaked."

"I'm not cold."

Tony smirked. "Wait until the rest of the adrenaline wears off."

"Can bones even set that fast?"

"Don't know. They might be able to if you're a mutant spider freak."

When Happy pulled up with the car, he was ready to lay into Peter in a far more serious fashion than Tony already had with his jeering on the way over. He could see it on his face. The look said everything: How could a genius like you be so stupid? Why didn't you pull over if you were having trouble? You never swerve away from the deer.

But, Tony shot him a pointed look: Not the time, and Happy nodded with pursed lips. This wasn't a time for reprimanding.

Thank you, Peter silently thought towards Tony, hoping that he'd be able to feel even an ounce of his appreciation. He liked Happy. He really did. And, he knew that Happy begrudgingly liked him back. But having Happy drive him again, and after only his first time out was… completely humiliating.

"Hand me the first aid kit?" Tony asked.

Happy nodded and dig through the glove box as Tony swung into the backseat with Peter.

"You can do x-rays and stuff with that?" Peter questioned.

"What?" Tony looked at him like he had two heads. "No. It's a first aid kit. It has band-aids and gauze and stuff."

Peter didn't think it was that far fetched. Tony had successfully made far crazier things before.

"Hold still for me." Tony pulled out a pair of tweezers, and more gently than Peter thought possible, tilted Peter's chin up. "There's some glass in this cut… this is going to hurt."

It did hurt, and Peter sucked in a breath through his teeth with a "sorry," from Tony, but it didn't hurt as much as Peter was expecting. Tony was uncharacteristically gentle, smoothing the skin on his forehead and carefully picking out the glass bit by bit, even with his mechanical arm that he hadn't quite gotten the hang of yet. Peter had spent a good couple of hours in the old Avengers tower lab with Tony while the new compound was being constructed as he relearned how to use the new arm and focus on things with one working eye. He'd even learned a few new colorful words from Tony that he'd never heard before as Tony made mistake after mistake in the lab thanks to his new handicaps before grumbling at Peter to come do it for him with his fancy depth perception and steady hands.

It turned out that Tony could focus in on small pieces and keep his new metal arm steady when he really wanted to.

"Almost done," he told Peter as he had to dig in for a particularly deep shard of glass. Peter winced and bit the inside of his cheek. The rest of the drive all went wordlessly until they finally arrived back at the new compound and Tony packed his now bloodied tweezers back into the first aid kit. "Well, that's all I can do. Gotta let the docs fix up the rest. Wait, no! Actually, that isn't all I can do. Here." Tony reached back into the first aid kit and slapped a band-aid on Peter's forehead before grabbing him by his right arm and helping him out of the car.

Peter looked at his reflection in the tinted windows. "Are… are these Spiderman themed band-aids? You have Spiderman bandaids. Wh- what?"

"Limited edition. So don't go using the rest of them up. You'll owe me a dollar ninety-nine if you do." Tony flashed him a smile and swung Peter's good arm around his shoulders, pulling him close as he stumble-limped into the compound and up to the med bay.

Two hours, a whole slew of x-rays and scans, a sling, some Advil and mucle relaxers that were doing absolutely nothing, and an ice pack later, Peter finally hobbled out to the then dwindling party. He was supposed to be in a wheel-chair since he'd bruised his kneecap pretty badly, but still somehow had enough energy and agility left in him to sneak out of the med-bay on his own two feet. He just hoped Tony wouldn't find out.

"There he is!" Tony again threw Peter's good arm over his shoulders and showed him off to everyone, introducing him just as the intern this time around (Thank GOD. He didn't want this to be his formal intro as Spiderman) but Peter didn't really have it in him to go around and mingle anymore. He hadn't revealed that he was Spiderman like he was going to, so there just... wasn't really a lot to talk to anyone about without blowing his cover until a more appropriate time. Despite how nervous and excited he'd been for this party, he found himself dreading the rest of night in which he'd probably spend the rest of it sipping a virgin cocktail while on his phone texting with Ned and maybe getting made fun of by Tony for the fruity drink. Okay, definitely getting made fun of.

But, rather than leave Peter to find a seat and try to entertain himself for the rest of the night, Tony steered him away from the Party and out towards the entrance.

"Mr. Stark? Where are we going?"

"I have a present for you."

"A present?"

"Two- no. Three, actually."

"Mr. Stark, you really-"

"Nope. Shhh. No talking. Take these. Present number one." He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a pair of… "Sunglasses?"

Peter put them on tentatively. "Whoa."

"Same tech that's in your suit goggles. Only, glasses. Because, well… I guess you can't go parading the Spiderman mask around all day anytime you need to dim things out and focus, can you? I… really should have thought about that before. I- yeah. Sorry."

"Wow. These… these are amazing. Thank you. So much."

"Save your thanks, kid." He pat Peter on the back and led him the rest of the way outside where-

"Mr. Stark. You didn't…"

"I did."

Peter looked on at the two new cars - cars! - with awe.

"Figured you and May needed separate cars, anyway. So. Y'know. Two birds, one stone. All that jazz."

Peter didn't recognize the make or model of either, nor did he recognize the gaping sound that somehow he managed to produce, but he was pretty sure that each one was worth more than his entire apartment building and everything in it combined. Shiny and low and lean, one a subdued dark red, and the other a jet black.

"Oh, that's not all. We uh… we couldn't save everything, or even most things, but we got as many things as we could out of your uncle's old car and installed them where they actually fit. Really just the steering wheel cover and a few decorations that looked like they might have gone on the dash. I know it's not the same, but… I figured it's something."

"I, I, I-" Peter was at a total loss for words. "How can I repay you? I don't even know what to say. What do you even say to something like this?"

"Thank you is a good starting point, usually."

"Yes. Yes. Thank you, Mr. Stark. So much. I- just- what? How did you even get these this fast?"

Tony laughed under his breath and pointed to himself. "Genius billionaire. Oh. One more thing. Before you're allowed to take these home-" He pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly searching something up. "You see this?" he asked, turning the screen towards Peter.

It was a picture of a deer crossing sign.

"I know what it means, Mr. Stark."

"Humor me."

Peter barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, only the grand gesture keeping him from doing anything even remotely rude."Deer are in the area and you should slow down and look out for them," he mumbled.

"Congrats. You've passed my driving test." More seriously, he added, "You got lucky you're only this hurt. I don't want to get a call like that again, okay? You're going to make me go gray, and I have too many photo ops to be doing that yet. So just… please be careful. Always wear those glasses during the day. That's how you can repay me."

"I will, Mr. Stark. I promise."

"Good." His mouth twisted to the side. "And- it's Tony."

"Tony." Peter tested the name out. Weird. Wrong, even. Tony was still far too much his superior for him to refer to him by his first name. That was going to take some getting used to. "Well, Tony. I should inform you that you are, in fact, already going gray, and it has nothing to do with me."

His face fell. "Scrap that. It's still Mr. Stark for you."

A/N: And that's one of twenty-five, folks! If you enjoyed, please let me know in the reviews! Hearing from y'all really makes my day. Also looking for a beta reader, so if you or someone you know wants to beta read, please let me know ASAP!

Status of IDB Card: Gala/Press Event | Happy Tears | Insomnia | Peter Meets The Avengers | Alcohol | Identity Reveal |

Car Crash | Career Day | Hypothermia | PTSD | No Anesthesia | Jealousy | Sleepy | College | Nightmares | Road Trip | Drugs | Losing Powers | Bullying | Homesick | "I Thought I Lost You"| Panic Attacks | Bruises | Working In The Lab | Sick Fic

If you have any suggestions for any of these prompts in italics (these haven't been planned yet) please let me know! I need ideas.