Peter Parker/Avengers Oneshots

fix-it because im sad

also it was requested by @MeredithN so yeah, hope this isn't complete garbage :)

this is a celebration of 69k reads btw so thanks

—

Everyone all knew that Tony Stark was strong.

He wasn't the biggest. He wasn't mentally stable, at all. He certainly wasn't the most in-shape of all of the Avengers.

But he was strong.

That's why it was no surprise that he survived the Snap.

He lost his arm, his hearing, his grip on reality, and his ego... But he survived.

—

Pepper was one of the first to see him. He smiled gently, and reached up with his hand.

"Hello, Mr. Stark," she giggled, voice soft and sweet and sad. She knew he couldn't hear her, and he would not remember this in a few hours, and he probably couldn't comprehend the inside joke that they'd tossed around for years. But she said it... because she had to.

He let out a raspy wheeze of what seemed to be either a whine or a laugh, and weakly bumped her hand with his own.

It was a painful sight. She hated seeing this man, can't-shut-his-goddamn-mouth Tony, who God knows has been through too much already, be so silent.

So she sat down next to him and let him nuzzle into her neck and mewl, smiling and letting silent tears fall down her face.

—

Rhodey understood what it was like to lose something so important to you. And Tony has been there every step of the way, to make sure that he wasn't in more pain then he had to be.

So of course he'd do the same for his best friend.

He took him to his therapy sessions, both physical and not, and he helped him through the exercises and answering the questions. He learned what he didn't already know of ASL for Tony, knowing that it would not only come in handy for Tony but for Clint as well.

He felt useful for the first time in a long time. It was a good feeling. It's not like you're being used, it's that you have a use. A purpose.

Tony was his purpose.

One night, as he sat on the edge of Tony's bed to help him get up, Tony turned to him and quickly signed a thank you.

It was so quick that he should've missed it. Like a whisper.

But he saw. And he knew.

—

To himself, Peter was less useful and more constantly worried about everything going on with Tony.

He wanted to know if he was drinking water, taking medicine, if he was feeling pain. Hell, even if the man lifted his arm to complain about a lump in the bed, Peter would be there in a heartbeat to fluff it away.

Tony couldn't honestly complain. He needed that constant.

His worrying wasn't only about the small things, though.

Peter was the one who found out that it was easier for Tony to use a text-to-speech type thing to talk instead of signing, since he only had the one hand. Peter was the one who finally pried the "I'm actually in a lot of pain right now" admission out of Tony when he was too stubborn to admit it.

Peter was the one who made him do everything that he needed to do.

Like the night when they took Tony off of his strong medication and put him on something that was just a pain reliever. Tony was slipping in and out of consciousness, and each time, Peter was there, talking to him like he could hear it.

"Drink your water, Mr. Stark," he mumbled once, pressing his hand onto Tony's good shoulder. It wasn't a lot of pressure, just enough to wake him up.
d
"You were twitching in your sleep, Mr. Stark," he whispered later, looking broken. Sad. "Just needed to make sure you were okay."

"You have to take your medicine again, huh?"

This time, Tony was in a lot of pain. He couldn't find Peter because the black spots in his vision were too much to see through, and he can't. Hear. Anything.

There was a pressure on his arm, but he was unable to tell if it was internal or external. Or if the arm was even real. Which arm did he lose again? Why does everything hurt?

A cup was forced to his lips and something pricked into his skin. His vision cleared a bit with the drink.

Peter was leaning over him, smiling. He signed, feeling better?

Tony sighed, and nodded. Peter was good.

—

Steve tried. He really did.

He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with Tony, or to go see him. But he cooked his meals. He helped fill his IV when it needed it. He'd even written a letter to Tony.

But he couldn't do it.

He felt guilty.

—

Without these people, and many others, Tony surely wouldn't have survived. He knows that they know this, and he knows it too.

He owes everything to them. His recovery, his money, his life. Everything.

But they won't take it.

Because they care, and they're good.