Superfamily One Shots

Phone Call pt. 2

**By popular demand (and a sudden break in my writer's block for this topic in the middle of the night) I have part 2!! Enjoy!**

Tony flew through cold, New York air as fast as he could, thrusters and lungs straining against the wind and anxiety pressing on the man.

Get there, get there, get there. The mantra was pounding through his head, keeping him going.

FRIDAY flashed with coordinates, suggesting Tony change direction slightly.

Get there, get there, get there. Peter, Peter, Peter. Save my son, save my son, save my-

Tony almost shook out of flight at the last thought that went through his head. Was that really how he saw Peter? Was he even ready to admit that?

Was he even ready to be someone's dad?

There was no time to think about that now, not when he might be too late to act on any of it. "FRIDAY," Tony commanded. "Thrusters to 100%"

"Sir, thrusters are at 100%."

"Then go to 110%" He knew that was impossible, mathematically, but he was desperate to get closer to his boy. Save him.

Save him, save him, save him.

The city below the man whizzed past, the lights of the town flashing by. Soon enough, Tony was out past the downtown, past the industrial part of town, and past the docks. There were little sparks of fire littering the beach, and there, in the middle of all of it, was a dot of red and blue.

Tony dove towards the sand, letting the suit fold away from his body a few feet above the ground and jumping down to his knees.

"Peter!" The teen was breathing shallowly, his chest barely rising and falling. Tony pulled the boy into his lap, quickly assessing everything that was wrong with the boy.

Beyond the burns and bloodied cuts and scrapes, there was a quickly spreading stain of blood, a piece of pipe sticking out from the boy's stomach. Rubble was all around, some of it cutting into the teen's legs and arms, but none of it was as bad as his stomach.

"Okay, this is okay, you're going to be okay."

Peter's eyes fluttered open. "M's'r St'rk?"

His mouth was stained with red, his words were slurred with blood.

"I'm right here, kid," Tony reassured, quickly tearing off parts of his shirt to bandage some of the smaller wounds. "I'm going to get you home, okay? We'll go see Bruce, you can tell him about the report you gave on his book!"

Peter's head lolled, but he didn't fall back asleep. "The teacher said it was really good."

"I know," Tony said. "I heard the message you left Happy, he forwarded it to me."

Peter couldn't even blush he was so tired and drained. "I din' know you listened to those."

"Of course I do, Pete. You're my personal intern." Tony wanted to say more, but it wasn't the time. It wasn't the right time.

Peter was finally as patched up as Tony could get him, so the billionaire lifted him carefully and let the Iron suit close around his legs and lift him off the sand.

The ride back to the tower seemed quicker, but maybe that was because Peter was tucked safely in Tony's arms, or because it was punctuated with the teen's rambled stories and soft chuckles and breathing, he was breathing.

Each shaking, shallow, soft breath meant the teen was alive.

"Bruce!" Tony shouted, the Iron suit retracting as he hit the helipad of the med-bay.