The World Is Wide (But I Feel So Small)

Peter

NEW 2020 EDIT: THIS IS NOT STARKER.

Peter doesn't want to leave his Dad's side.

It had been 2 days since arriving back at the Tower, the smell of home and safety carrying a comforting weight when the teenager begins to float away into the painful memories that haunt his dreams.

He is still in the Medical Unit, his Uncle Bruce making sure to check his ribs and head every few hours, the concussion he sustained causing his head to pulse and his eyes to swim. The wires that connect him to the heart machines jingle with each movement, the beeping becoming a steady backdrop against the suffocating silence of the infirmary.

He leans back against his pillow with a sigh, the juice that he was trying to bring up to his mouth sloshing with the shaking of his hands, the orange liquid dripping from the rim and dotting the white sheets beneath. His half-eaten sandwich sits crookedly in his lap, and the teenager pushes it away slightly as his stomach rolls, his multiple broken ribs throbbing in time with the nausea.

A calloused hand suddenly grabs the plate, the dark sleeve of a black cotton shirt stark against the dull blankets.

"I know your pain medication makes you feel sick, but you have to eat more than this, baby." His father says quietly, cupping his cheek with his free hand, his skin soft and warm against Peter's face.

The teenager shakes his head, the room spinning around at the motion and making him squeeze his eyes shut, his head pulsing suddenly as his monitors speed up slightly.

Letting out a harsh breath through his nose, he clenches his fists around the material of his Dad's shirt, his voice echoing through the young Stark's mind and making him shiver.

Keep those eyes open, Pete.

No, the spiderling thinks harshly, forcefully shoving the dark thoughts back and blinking his doe eyes back open. Don't think about that now.

He doesn't even startle at the closeness of his Dad's face, his dark eyes warm with concern, and his grip around his waist tightening as he pulls the boy against his side.

Sniffling, Peter rests his throbbing head against Tony's shoulder, the cotton soft under his red cheek. The white light overhead casts half of his father's face in shadow as the genius leans down, the soft kiss he places against the teen's forehead making him blink back more tears.

"I-I'm not very hungry." Peter whispers after a second, cursing at himself internally when he stutters, hating the tremors running throughout his tired body. "I wi-will eat, b-but not now."

Tony makes a noise of protest, the sound a deep rumble against the boy's ear. However, he doesn't push it, and they just sit there for a few minutes, the only sound being their combined breathing and the beeping of the medical equipment. The inventor begins to hum softly under his breath, his voice smooth and low as he adjusts his grip on Peter.

Peter shifts on the bed, the plate rattling against his rib cage as he turns his body into his father's protective hold. Stifling a groan at the sharp throb that begins to build in his chest, the spiderling tries in vain to lift the container, the bread still sitting on the shiny surface sliding around at the movement. With a sharp curse, the weight was suddenly lifted, his Dad setting the offending disk onto the side wooden table with a thunk.

"Sorry, Peter, I meant to pick that up earlier. Do you need me to get Uncle Bruce?" Tony says quickly, running his hand through his son's hair as he checks the wrapping around his chest.

The spiderling begins to shake his head again, but thinks better of it. "Nope, I think I'm okay for now."

Narrowing his eyes, the Billionaire studies his baby's face, and Peter can tell he wants to call the Doctor anyway, his gaze skidding from the bruises the teen knows fill his face to the long cut on his shoulder. Lowering his head to the warm shoulder once more, Peter carefully lifts his arms and wraps them around his Daddy's waist, the material of his shirt rubbing against the boy's raw skin.

"Can we watch a movie?" Peter suddenly asks, lifting his head and looking up at his father with large eyes.

Chuckling at the pleading look, the once playboy gives a smile, reaching over and picking up the small, black remote from beside the plate. Pointing it at the television screen hanging up on the far wall, Tony clicks the ON button, the red dot lighting up green for a few seconds as the technology process the request. Once the T.V. turns on, the elder Stark turns his face upwards slightly, tugging his son closer as he looks at the camera located a few feet away.

"Alright Friday, play the last Disney movie viewed please." He requests.

"Of course, Boss. Would you like me to dim the lights for you as well?"

Peter settles more firmly against his father's chest as the man answers positively, the glow of the Arc Reactor casting faded shadows along the walls as the bright lights above them fade into a soft yellow. The T.V. goes black for a few second, before the happy time of the Disney opening theme plays, the sound making the air around them light and playful.

Curling further into the safety of his Dad's arms, the teenager stifles a yawn as the warmth gathering beneath their shared blanket sinks into his bones.

"I love you, Kiddie. So much."

His Dad's voice is deep against his head, the words choked with an unknown emotion and making Peter swallow a sob, the opening scenes of Mulan blurring as silent tears spill past his eyes. Gripping his father's hands tightly in his own, the teenager responds just as his head falls more firmly against the inventor's chest, the words slightly muffled from the fabric and the cotton becoming damp with tears.

"I love you too, Dad."