Spider-Son & Iron Dad one shots

Stab Wound

Spooktober-02

Peter's heart stops as he sees the mad Titan grab Tony's weapon and forcefully shove it back into Tony's stomach. His blood runs cold, but he doesn't dare move.

He can't move. He can't do that. He already messed up his chance trying to take the gauntlet. He can't mess up again.

Despite the overwhelming, burning in his throat urge to do something. To throw himself at Thanos with everything he possibly has, to do something he would regret and not regret at the same time.

So he stays.

He watches the blood trickle down Tony's mouth and tries his best not to scream. Every fiber of his body is telling him to move, to save him. To save Tony.

Peter tries to thinks back to a simpler time, knowing that if he kept looking at Tony, he would eventually crack and run forward.

He closes his eyes, trying not to imagine Tony closing his eyes. Anything but that. Anything but Tony closing his eyes and not opening them again.

So he lets the darkness cloud his vision, and he ignores the irrational guilt eating at his stomach. The thoughts telling him he's weak for not being able to look. Weak for not being there for Tony in any way he can.

His whole body is shaking, and his mind is paralyzed with fear. But he's able to think of a simpler memory.

"Peter, is—Did you steal my shirt?" Tony barks a laugh.

Peter looks down at the shirt he was wearing. He thought it didn't look familiar. It was an older looking shirt, with the MIT logo on the front. It was comfortable though, so he didn't think much of it when he saw it on his dresser after laundry day.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Peter grins.

Tony laughs.

The laugh echoes in his mind, and he tries to hold onto the memory. It doesn't work. The memory fades nearly as soon as it comes.

He opens his eyes, seeing Tony still laying in pain.

The only difference was that Thanos was gone.

Peter snaps back to reality and sprints towards Tony. "Mr. Stark!"

"Are you okay?! It's okay, don't worry—" He helps Tony pull the weapon out of his torso.

"I'm okay, kiddo," Tony rasps, and fixes up his wound with the ice from his suit.

They sat in silence, catching their breath. Peter helps everyone down from where they were hanging from webs earlier, and then they all stand around on the red planet. Waiting. Listening. Praying.

If only the stab wound was the only tragedy they had to endure.