Iron Dad Spider Son

We're all okay now

Hi it's me yeah I know no one likes author notes but please read this is important to the story. Basically I know I did a horrible job at this but Tony and Peter's relationship had down graded when Peter ghosted him to help May with a job. They're kind of like acquaintances.

The Quinjet landed at the med Bay and the group rushed off. They ran through the the halls and was about to go inside when Strange stepped in front off them telling them they couldn't go in yet.

"He's still in critical condition, you can't go in just yet, we have to preform some surgeries..." Strange trailed off. Clint, Natasha, and Bruce sat down at those chairs.

"Wh-- what surgeries?" Tony asked his voice shaked with panic and worry.

"Well.. I mean he was stabbed there's some external and internal bleeding going on... and Bruce should almost be done removing the bullet. He also seems to have a concussion and a--" Strange stopped when he saw Tony's reaction.

"Tony, go sit down." Steve suggested. Tony blankly nodded and sat next to Nat.

"Is he going to.... you know... make it?" Steve whispered to Strange.

"I don't know yet Steve. I'm sorry." Strange admitted sadly

"..." Steve hesitated,"just do everything you can." Then Steve went and joined Tony.

--- time skip broughtto you by America's ass--

5 weeks had passed since they found Peter and every day, hope was drained out of everyone.

Peter still hadn't woken up, he was all healed (do to his super healing) and he was alive breathing just fine but he just wouldn't wake up. A coma.

5 weeks. 5 quiet, boring, sad, painful weeks. Everyone felt he wouldn't make it. However, in everyone there was still a small chance of hope that was disappearing as every second passed.

--back in Peter's room (they moved him there after he was healed)--

Peter open his eyes slightly and winced at the bright light.

What had happened?

Was he in pain? No. Was he dead? No. Was he sick? Hurt? Dreaming? No....

Then it all came rushing back. The gunshot, the stabbing, the fight, the stairs. So many damn stairs. Too many damn stairs. He opened his mouth to call hello into the world but his throat was dry. That was right, they-- Ryan and Jack didnt give him water or food. 

How was he alive? He looked around and saw he was fed through machines. Then he saw a water bottle. He pulled off the covers and stood up. He was okay. And walked steadily to the bottle downing it all in only a few seconds.

He walked to the door and slightly opened it.

"Hello?!" He called. No answer. He sighed and layed back down in his bed grabbing a plastic ball to entertain him.

--back in the training room--
Clint, Nat and Steve were trying hand to hand combat. Nat ended up beating their ass and she sat down to rest.

"Nice work guys, I'm gonna head up to my room and take a shower." Steve weakly told them.

"Me too." Clint sighed.

"I'll stay here for a bit practice a bit more." Nat mumbled.

"Nat, it wasn't your fault." Steve assured.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, leave before you get all sappy." Nat groaned sighing. She was having a hard time without Peter. He was basically her nephew.