Pumpkins & Stitches

Link to read on AO3

“So what type of face do you want this guy to have? A smile? Evil grin?” Happy asks Morgan as he uncaps the Sharpie in his hand, gesturing to the large pumpkin in front of them on the dining room table.

“Hmm…” Morgan hums to herself, brows pulled together in thought as she looks at the pumpkin for a few seconds. “A unicorn.”

Happy raises an eyebrow. “A unicorn? Are you sure?” He asks, already knowing what a pain in the butt that’s going to be to try to draw, let alone carve-out.

Morgan nods, smiling. “Yep.”

Happy sighs lightly, knowing that there’s no use in trying to sway her—when Morgan makes up her mind, there’s no changing it. “One unicorn it is,” He says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket to look up a few reference photos of the mythical creature. He glances over at Peter at the other end of the table, who’s now onto carving his pumpkin. The kid has his tongue sticking out of his mouth in thought as he cuts into it with a knife. “What’s yours gonna be, Pete?” Happy asks.

Peter looks over his pumpkin at him, sheepishly smiling.

“Let me guess. Spider-Man?” Happy says.

Peter grins. “How’d you know?”

Happy shakes his head with a smile. “Lucky guess. You’re just like Tony—he had at least twenty massive Iron Man pumpkins out on the front porch his first Halloween after he publicly outed himself as Iron Man.”

“Did he carve them himself?” Peter asks, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Happy laughs, shaking his head. “No. He bought them from some local shop in Malibu.”

“That must have looked cool at night,” Peter says, grinning.

The memory of all of the little kids that came to the mansion that year for trick or treating comes to his mind, remembering how their faces lit up when Tony stepped out in one of the suits to give them all bucket loads of candy. “Yeah, it did.” Happy says with a fond smile.

“Uncle Happy? I want my pumpkin to look like Elsa instead.” Morgan announces suddenly.

Happy’s smile drops as he looks down at her, meeting her pleading brown eyes that she always uses on him when she wants something. And of course, it works every time because he’s a sucker for those beautiful brown eyes of hers. “Pumpkin Elsa it is.” He says with a sigh.

…

Thirty-five minutes later, after pulling up a few reference pictures of the (ex) Queen of Arendale herself, Happy is half-way through finishing drawing Elsa’s face on Morgan’s pumpkin, which isn’t coming out too bad considering it’s been decades since his last art class in high school.

“Uncle Happy?” Morgan asks.

“Hmm?” Happy hums, brows pulled together in concentration as he makes sure the eyes are proportionally sized with each other so this thing doesn’t look wonky.

“Do pumpkins bleed?”

Happy almost laughs at the odd question as he makes the finishing touches on Elsa’s nose. Kids and their imaginations. “Pumpkins don’t bleed, honey.”

“Then why is Peter’s pumpkin bleeding?” She asks.

“Huh?” Happy says as he jerks his head over to look at Peter’s pumpkin, only to see a streak of crimson on the side of it. His eyes snap up to Peter, who’s as pale as a sheet and unmoving, staring down at something with wide eyes.

Cursing under his breath, Happy jumps up from the table and rushes to Peter’s side, only to find an alarming amount of blood on the table beneath the kid’s clearly injured hand. “What happened?” He demands, eyes darting around for something to stem the bleeding but there isn’t anything within reach.

“I...t-the knife. It slipped.” Peter stutters out, eyes still unmoving from his hand, clearly in shock.

“Here, let me see.” Happy says as he carefully takes Peter’s injured hand in his and turns it around to get a look at it.

Now, Happy’s not a squeamish person with all the shit he’s seen working for Tony all these years, but the sight of the deep, steadily bleeding cut along the entire length of Peter’s palm, from the bottom of his index finger, all the way down to his wrist has Happy’s stomach-churning.

“Shit.” Happy curses as he lets go of Peter’s hand to run over to the kitchen to grab a wad of paper towels before rushing back over.

He carefully wraps Peter’s hand with the paper towels, earning a sharp hiss of pain from the teen. The blood soaks through the towels almost immediately, looking like it’s not going to stop any time soon. Happy considers his options as he applies light pressure to Peter’s injured hand—he can try to stitch it up himself, or they could go to the Compound and have one of the doctors in the medbay take care of it and risk the kid possibly losing a lot more blood in the thirty-minute drive

“Is Petey okay, Uncle Happy?” Morgan asks in a wobbly voice.

Happy looks over at her, seeing unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

Shit. Now add a traumatized toddler to the list, He thinks to himself as he bites his lip, trying to come up with a plan of action.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, honey. Pete just cut himself a little bit but he’s going to be just fine,” Happy says, offering her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “How about you go upstairs and play for a little bit while I help Pete out. Okay?”

Morgan sits there for a moment, unmoving, her eyes going back and forth between the blood on the table and Peter’s rapidly paling face. “Okay.” She says as she slides off her chair, heading in the direction of the stairs.

Happy breathes out a relieved breath, knowing that he’s going to have to do some damage control later, probably in the form of an apology ice cream or stuffed animal for her.

But for now, he has bigger fish to fry—or in this case, spiders to stitch.

Happy looks at Peter, wrapping an arm around him to help him stand up. “Let’s get you upstairs, kid.”

…

About five minutes later, Happy is helping Peter inside the upstairs bathroom, easing the wobbly teen down on the closed toilet seat before grabbing the first aid kit out from the medicine cabinet.

“M’ sorry, Happy. I didn’t mean to ruin tonight,” Peter says as Happy starts laying everything out on the sink countertop. “I know you… wanted it to be fun.”

“It’s alright, Pete. This was an accident,” Happy reassures as he quickly washes and dries his hands before wetting a hand towel under the warm water, wringing it out. “And we did have fun.”

Peter sighs and lets his head fall against the wall next to him, silently watching as Happy grabs the footstool out from underneath the sink vanity and sits down. Happy takes Peter’s injured hand in his, unraveling the bloody paper towels and tossing them in the small wastebasket beside them.

“Okay, this might sting a little,” Happy warns as he brings the cloth down on the sluggishly bleeding wound, earning a pained groan from Peter. “Sorry.”

Once the wound is cleaned and disinfected, Happy reaches up for the suture packet on the counter and rips it open. Peter pales even further at the sight of the needle. It’s no secret the kid has a fear of needles, resulting in him fainting from time to time—hopefully not tonight.

“Ready?” Happy asks once the needle is all set, wishing more than anything they had something he could numb the kid’s hand with to make this as painless as possible for him.

“Y-Yeah,” Peter says with a shaky nod as he closes his eyes, tucking his face a little against the wall as if he’s trying to shield himself from seeing the needle.

“It’ll be over before you know it, kid. Just take a few deep breaths,” Happy tells him gently before he gets to work.

Peter flinches as soon as the needle pierces his skin. “Ouch,”

“Sorry,” Happy apologizes, pausing for a moment to let him catch his breath before continuing.

Eventually, Happy finishes stitching the wound closed—a total of fourteen stitches to be exact. He carefully slathers a thick layer of antibacterial cream on the neat row of sutures before wrapping Peter’s hand in gauze.

“You’re good to go, Pete,” Happy announces when he’s finished. He breathes out a relieved sigh as he stands up, ignoring the way his knees crack and protest at the movement. “How about we get some pain meds in you and watch a movie until Tony and Pepper get back?”

Peter smiles weakly. “Yeah… that sounds good.”

Happy smiles in return as he goes over and wraps an arm around his back and helps him stand up. He leads the kid out of the bathroom and down the hallway, keeping a firm grip around Peter’s shoulders as they carefully make their way downstairs.

Once Peter is settled on the chaise section of the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and his injured hand propped up on a throw pillow, Happy calls Morgan downstairs as he grabs the kid’s pain meds from the medicine cabinet in the kitchen, along with a glass of water.

Happy walks out of the kitchen and back into the living room, giving Peter the pill, watching him wash it down with a few gulps of water.

“Thanks, Happy,” Peter says with a tired, yet grateful smile as he rests his head on the pillow behind him.

Happy returns the smile. “No problem, Pete,”

When Morgan comes downstairs, she worriedly eyes Peter’s bandaged hand.

“Hey, Mo,” Peter greets her with a small smile.

“Hi,” she says as she pads further into the living room, clutching her Iron Man teddy bear close to her chest. “Are you feeling better?”

Peter nods as she crawls up on the couch and sits beside him. “Way better. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay. I brought you Henry… he was worried about you.” She says, tucking the bear against Peter’s side.

Peter smiles tiredly at her. “Awe, thanks, M.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Happy’s mouth at the sight of them as he turns around and heads back to the kitchen to make them a quick and easy dinner.

…

Once dinner is all ready—macaroni and cheese—Happy brings Peter his on a tray to make it easier for him to eat with one hand. They settle on watching Moana as they eat, Morgan singing along to the songs while Peter watches the screen with half-lidded eyes and a tired smile on his face.

The movie is only half-way in when Happy glances over at the kid, finding him to be sound asleep, snuggled up with Morgan’s teddy bear. Happy quietly gets up and carefully takes the tray away, before fixing the blankets around the sleeping teen. A smile pulls at the corner of Happy’s mouth at the sight of Peter drooling away on the pillow under his head.

Happy turns away and walks into the kitchen, already knowing that he has a lot of explaining to do when Tony and Pepper come home.

Deadly Mix-Up

Peter is sitting on the couch in between Morgan and Tony, watching Lilo and Stitch 2 with half-interest. It’s hard to concentrate with the way his head has been throbbing for the past half-hour. 

He brings a hand up to rub at his eyes, trying to appease growing ache behind them. Dropping his hand, he spares a glance at Tony, who doesn’t look like he’s faring any better, if the pinched expression on his face is anything to go off of. 

“Do you want some more pain meds now? I think our four hours is up,” Peter offers.

Both he and Tony had  gotten a little banged up during yesterday’s mission, raiding a HYDRA base with the team. Tony has a few broken ribs, whereas Peter ended up with a mild concussion, hence the pounding in his skull.  

Cuddle Bug

Peter slowly rouses from his deep slumber when he feels himself being jostled around. He struggles to open his heavy eyes, but when he does, he finds that he’s being picked up from the couch.

“Wa’s h’pnin?” He murmurs sleepily.

“You’re okay, Pete. Go back to sleep.” Tony’s soothes.

Peter blinks sluggishly, his feverish brain being able to piece together that it’s Tony who’s carrying him. He must have fallen asleep sometime during the movie—he’s just so tired.

It’s only been three days since Peter has been at the cabin, spending the past two days puking his brains out due to a bad case of the flu. And it’s just his luck that he’d get sick on Thanksgiving break, already having enough on his plate with school and stressing out over studying for the SAT and ACT he’s scheduled to take in two weeks.

Not bothering to waste what little energy he has left to protest, Peter drops his head on Tony’s shoulder and closes his eyes once more. He’s barely awake by the time they reach the top of the stairs, only opening his eyes when he feels himself being lowered down to his bed in his room.

“There you go, kiddo,” Tony says gently, looking down at him with the softest expression Peter’s ever seen on his face. “Do you need anything?” He asks as he brings the blankets up to Peter’s chin.

“C’n you stay?” Peter asks

“Of course,” Tony says with a smile, walking around the other side of the bed before settling down next to Peter, snaking an arm underneath him, pulling Peter closer to him.

Peter turns on his side and curls up against Tony’s side, laying his head on his mentor’s chest, soaking up the warmth coming off of him. Peter hums in content, earning an amused chuckle from Tony in response, feeling fingers start to card through his curls.

“Go to sleep, spider-baby,” Tony tells him softly.

“M’ not a b’by…” Peter mumbles sleepily against his mentor’s chest, letting his heavy eyes slip closed.

He’s out like a light not even a few moments later.

Pumpkin Donuts & Freak Accidents

Peter steps out on the front porch of the Stark’s cabin with a tray of five mugs full of freshly brewed coffee. He smiles to himself as he inhales the crisp autumn air, the faintest hint of a bonfire from somewhere in the distance, as well as the remaining pumpkin spice donuts they had after lunch. 

“Thanks, Pete,” Tony says with a warm, grateful smile as Peter puts the tray down on the wicker coffee table in the middle of everyone. 

“Sure,” Peter smiles back as he squeezes himself in between him and Happy, who is currently in a bit of a heated debate with Clint and Steve over last Sunday’s football game. 

The Big Boo-Boo Protocol

It’s a little after midnight and Peter is still awake, sitting up in bed watching Return of the Jedi on his SI tablet Tony gave him for his birthday a few months ago. But the movie isn’t doing its job in keeping Peter entertained. He usually loves watching anything Star Wars related—he’s just so bored. 

He’s been cooped up in the medbay on bed rest for almost a week now since his run-in with the Rhino, resulting in Peter getting pretty banged up (three broken and two fractured ribs, a broken arm, a fractured collar bone, bruised spleen, as well as a mild concussion to be exact). 

Phobias & Tight Spaces

Peter wakes to the sound of water dripping, droplets hitting his forehead and soaking into the fabric of his mask. He slowly blinks his heavy eyes open, meeting darkness. That’s when he realizes he’s pinned to the ground by a giant slab of concrete under a mountain of debris. 

There’s a building on top of him. 

Panic flows through Peter at the sudden realization as the memories come back to him. It happened so fast. He wasn’t able to get out of the building in time before it collapsed. And judging by the way his head is pounding, something must have hit him on the head and knocked him out. That explains why his thoughts are so foggy. 

Pain Meds, Broken Bones, & Fun Facts

“T’ny, did you know that turtles can breathe through their butts?” Peter slurs with a lopsided grin. 

“That’s fascinating, Pete,” Tony says without looking up from his tablet, reading over the final prototype for the upcoming line of SI smart phones they’re planning on rolling out in mid-November. 

It’s been a long night in the medbay after Peter miscalculated a jump on patrol that resulted in the kid taking a bad tumble, somehow managing to break his fibula in two places. Thankfully, it doesn’t need surgery, but he’s still laid out in bed with his leg encased in a bright blue cast, propped up on a mountain of pillows to keep it elevated. He’s doped up on his spider-kid pain meds (the ones that make him fuzzy and a bit out of it), contentedly slurping on a berry blast flavored ICEE drink Tony got for him. 

Kidnapping Wasn’t On the Grocery List

They took them in broad daylight at a grocery store a few miles away from the compound. In hindsight, Bruce could have done something—paid more attention to their surroundings. He’s grown accustomed to not always needing to constantly look over his shoulder like he’d done before joining the team.

That’s why they’re in this mess now. He messed up…. badly.

Bruce and Peter were only there to pick up a few things for dinner that night, bringing their bags to one of Tony’s less conspicuous Audi sedans. Peter barely had any time to react before a group of goons were on top of them, one of them getting in a lucky shot and hitting Peter behind the head with a crowbar.

Bruce felt the big guy shift inside of him, the all-too-familiar green glow in his eyes, when one of the men suddenly grabs Peter, who’s half-conscious, by his hoodie and shoves a gun against the side of his head.

Revenge With A Side Of Avenging

The first thing Peter registers is pain, a horrible pounding at the back of his head, radiating to his eyes and all the way down his neck. It feels almost as if the throbbing is in sync with his heartbeat.

Peter lets out a groan as he goes to reach up to touch his head, but he finds that he’s unable to lift his arms. He opens his heavy eyes, blinking away the stubborn blurriness he’s met with, only to find that he’s wrapped in thick rope, bound to an extremely uncomfortable chair.

That doesn’t make any sense... how did he get wrapped up in rope?

He sluggishly blinks as he lifts his head, only managing to limply roll it on his shoulder. He’s in a large dark space, the only amount of light coming from the small windows surrounding the place. There are a few stacked boxes surrounding him, looking a little like a warehouse of sorts.

What’s he doing in a warehouse?

I have all my fics planned for Whumptober!! 🍁🎃