irondad & spiderson oneshots

xliii. plane crash (1)

This day was not turning out like Peter expected. He expected to have a nice long plane ride with his dad and then stick around a hotel while his dad attended a bunch of meetings.

He expected to be back home to his family by the end of the day. What he did not expect, was the plane crashing. It took only a few minutes for the trip to quickly go south.

When Peter wakes, everything in him is screaming in agony. He moans in pain, tears coming to his eyes. "Dad?" He croaks, peeling his eyes open. There's no response and he starts coughing from the strain on his throat.

He cries out at the movement, his ribs burning furiously. He shakily lifts the dress shirt his dad had him wear. He cringes at his black and blue torso. He had to have at least broken four ribs.

He takes a shaky breath and is greeted with a fiery pain. God, his arm hurts. He looks over and his eyebrows shoot up. No wonder it hurts. It probably shouldn't be facing that way.

He gathers his arm to his chest and whimpers in pain. He very slowly and carefully takes off his suit jacket and ties it around his arm as a sling. It would have to do for now.

His panic rises suddenly when he realizes his father hadn't answered. What if his dad was hurt? Or... dead? Tears drip down his cheeks at that thought and he shakes his head. He uses the tree behind him to stand up with a whine,

He looks at the rubble of the plane and sees it in pieces. He swallows the lump in his throat. He stumbles forward, cringing with every step. He probably sprained his leg.

"Dad!" He yells, ignoring how it hurts. God his head hurts. It feels like someone is just slamming a baseball bat into him repeatedly. He scrunches up his face at the feeling of something warm under his nose. He brings his mostly uninjured hand up to his lips and pulls it away with blood.

Great, so his nose is broken. He knows he must be covered in lacerations and bruises. He probably looks like he got thrown out of a plane - oh wait, he did. He snorts and calls for his dad again.

"Where are you?!" He stops to listen, his eyes raking over the plane, glad to see his dad not dead or unconscious in the debris. He takes a shuddering breath, wishing that he had kept his jacket on because it's really cold. He can even see his breath.

"Dad?" He whimpers again, sounding like a lost child. He guesses he really is a lost child. He knows he won't make it far if he tries to wander off for help. And besides, what if he goes the wrong direction and walks for miles into the woods until he inevitably dies?

What if he goes the wrong direction and his dad doesn't make it? He stumbles back over to his tree and sits down as carefully as he can. He immediately sighs at the relief it brings to his leg. Maybe it was more than sprained.

He closes his eyes and wraps his good arm around himself. He knows it's probably bad to sleep right now because he most likely has a concussion, but he's just so tired. He hopes his dad is okay. Then he slowly drifts off to sleep.

He peels his eyes open however long later and he still hurts the same. He groans and shoves his free hand into his pocket. It's freezing out here. He almost falls over when he tries to stand again.

He strains his ears to listen for the sound he's sure he heard. Though he probably wpn't hear anything. He's just ordinary, unlike his pops who had enhanced hearing.

Then suddenly he hears it again. "Peter!" He gasps and his eyes widen. "Dad!" He yells. "Peter! Where are you?" His dad calls. He sounds close. "By the plane. I'm by the plane." He says. A few moments later his dad stumbles into view with wide terrified eyes.

"Peter!" He breathes. Peter trudges forward and his dad quickly envelope him in a hug. His dad had a torn piece of cloth wrapped around his shoulder and another larger piece wrapped around his stomach with a dark spot of blood on it.

Peter starts to pull away but he just can't. He's so cold and tired and he hurts and he just wants to go home. A sob rips from his throat and his dad holds him tighter. "Th-the plane will have sent a distress signal. I'm sure Pops is already on his way." His dad assures.

Even Peter can hear the uncertainty in his voice. He cries harder. "I wanna go home." He murmurs, hiccuping slightly. "We're fine kid. We'll be home soon." His father mumbles. They slowly lay down on the floor and pull each other close. Then they fall asleep, both thinking of Steve.