Take Off The Mask // Son of Stark 2

Chapter 1

Six months... It had been roughly six months since Tony had last heard his precious baby speak. Six months since he had last watched him walk or run. Six months since they had last gone out patrolling as Spider-Man and Iron Man together.

Peter had been in a coma since late last year? And had made no sign of waking up. The doctors had all said that there was still a chance, a small slither of hope, he would wake up - he able to leave the constantly silent room. But by now, all of Tony's and Steve's faith had disappeared; their frequent checks in on Peter becoming further and further apart.

The two were a lot closer than prior to Peter's rescue. Both had hid away their disagreements, ready to prove that Peter was more important than their divorcement.

At this exact moment, 5:47pm June 3rd 2016, Tony was sat on the chair beside Peter's bed: a book in his hands. He was there purely because there was nowhere else he could be: Dum-E was trying to clear up his lab, emphasise on the trying, and the rest of the team were being secretive - mainly his ex, and his boyfriend.

Steve had been looking for Bucky but they hadn't been successful, even with the help from Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff.

"D-dad?"

Tony looked up from his book, his conscience questioning whether or not he had imagined the faint voice. He glanced down at Peter, and smiled at the sight of his son's fluttering eyes. "Pete?" he said softly, his hand brushing across the boy's hair, "Bud... can you hear me?"

"Dad... I - Me, but... they... I.... I'm sorry," he stammered, his body collapsing against the mattress as he tried to sit upright.

"Woah! Easy, tiger...." Tony exclaimed sarcastically, "We don't want you getting even more injured - do we?" He pulled his hand away from the kid's hair, and added, "Fri, tell Steve to get up here now. Say Pete's awake."

"Right away, Sir."

"No," protested Peter, his smile fading, "But not Bucky. He... He went bad, Dad, he let them hurt me."

"I know, it's okay. Bucky isn't here..." Tony mumbled, reassuring himself more than his son. He needn't make effort to calm him down because Steve had just walked into the room... alone.

"Pops?" Peter whispered, trying to reach Steve, stretching his hand out as far as possible. Steve moves over to Peter's side.

"Yeah, buddy?" Steve responded, in a manner that would have fooled anyone into thinking it had only been an hour since the two had last spoken.

"How long has it been?"

"Six months, kiddo, that's how long you were out..." Steve said slowly, unsure of how Peter was going to take it.

"Six m-" Peter whispered, "That's a long time." He grinned, his voice getting louder, "For a second there, I thought it had been a few years. I mean, Dad, your hair really is going grey."

"You're lucky you are still technically injured, otherwise I might have had to come over there and tickled you, Mister," Tony replied. He raised his hands, miming the movements in jest.

Cleaning his throat, Steve added, "How do you feel, Pete?"

"I'm okay... I think I'm gonna sleep with all my old toys - in my room, if that's okay with you... but apart from that I'm fine."

"Good..."