Tate woke to an annoyingly familiar sound of beeping and the smell of disinfectant. His body throbbed but not with the same amount of pain that he remembered. Now, it was a dull and aching throbbing, most likely muffled by painkillers. (God bless the drugs). He winced and slowly blinked his eyes open. It was a hospital room as he had guessed. The walls and floor were pale cream and the bedsheets were white. A drip hung next to his bed and his skin prickles with the familiar starchy fabric of bandages. Through the floor to ceiling windows, weak sunlight slipping across the floor and the blinds. Beyond he could see the city skyline and he knew that he was home, in the hospital floor of the tower. 

The sunlight hinted at either early morning or the late afternoon before it slipped into sunset. There was no clock so Tate did not know which one it was. Still, he glanced around the room. There was a navy blue leather couch pressed against the wall to his left. Two matching arm chairs were on the right, right under the windows or, they should have been. Someone had pulled one of the arm chairs over to rest next to his hospital bed.

 Peter was curled up in it. Feet tucked under him and head tilted back against his shoulder, one hand draped over the mattress next to where Tate's was resting. He looked both uncomfortable but also deeply asleep. Cute with hair in slightly messy waves and skull bandaids over his fingers and forehead. Soft snores emitted from his mouth and he might have also been drooling into the fabric of his Stark industries tshirt. Tate blinked and smiled in relief. Peter was alright. The busies on his face were shades of yellows and there was no sign of bandages. 

"He has been there all night you know", Tony's voice made Tate turn. His father was standing in the open doorway. He looked worn and tired. With dark bags under his eyes and the length of stubble around his chin. He was dressed in one of his inventing tshirts and a baggy pair of jeans, both stained with oil and with various small holes. But his smile was one of relief and warmth. 

Tate tried to sit up further but Tony strode over to his side and pushed him back down. "No, no. No moving. You have some pretty bad abdominal bruising small fry. Not to mention the two broken ribs". 

Tate let himself sink back into the pillows with a sigh. "Damn. I just got to get back on my skateboard. This sucks".

Tony chuckled fondly. "Better than you being dead. Second time this year. We should set up a tally kiddo". He leaned over to give Tate a hug. Hands gentle despite their concern. "You should stop scaring me".

"To be fair", Tate grinned as Tony pulled back. "This time wasn't my fault. I didn't ask Liz's dad to try and kidnap me".

Tony exhaled deeply. "God, Tate. I'm so sorry. To you and Peter both. If I had just listened to him, or not taken the suit. If I was there"- 

"Dad", Tate cut him off. "Dad. None of this was your fault. None of the vulture's previous crimes hinted that he would try something a big as hijacking your plane. It was pure coincidence that it happened to be the one I had chosen to fly. You can't change the past". 

"I know", Tony huffed. "Why have you always got to be the wise one. You're fifteen".

"Got it from my mom", Tate chirped. 

Tony smiled. "That you did. Ira was always having to talk sense into me". Peter let out a sleepy snort and shifted slightly in his chair. Both father and son waited until his soft snores resumed. Tony raised an eyebrow at his son. "Pete refused to leave. Though he was pretty banged up himself. Healed mostly within a day though, even then he refused to leave. Is there something going on here that I should know about?"

Tate flushed red. "He saved me. I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't been there".

Tony smirked. "uhuh. And that's it is it?"

Tate flushed deeper and averted his gaze to where Peter's hand was resting. "I want to ask him on a date?" It came out more like a question. 

"Why are you asking me?" Tony chuckled. "Ask him when he wakes".

"So you're okay with this? Me and your 'intern' dating". Tate's fingers twitched in little quotation marks around the word intern. 

Tony sighed deeply, a father sigh. "Yes and no. Peter is a great kid and probably one of the only ones I'd be okay with you dating. But it's hard being the partner to a hero. Pepper knows. She has been put in danger too many times for my liking, sacrificed too much for me to go and save the world. But it's your choice. I have never been able to sway your mind when its set. Time has proved that". Tony leaned over and squeezed Tate's hand. "I just want you to be happy".

"Dad, I will always be in danger. Either due to being your son, or because of being friends with Peter".

"I know".

"But I am happy. I have my friends and I have you and Pepper. Dad, I'm happy".

"That's good to hear. Speaking of your friends. Happy and I got several calls from Callum. He can get very firm". 

Tate winced at the mental image, then laughed quietly. "I bet he did". 

Tony nodded. "They're all coming over tomorrow, so prepare yourself. I tried to say that you would need your rest but they're all pretty persistent. Now I've got to go and get Pepper from the airport. I promised I'd catch her upon on what happened in person. Rest up. Happy is just on call if you need anything. Keep an eye on Peter". Then Tony was pressing a kiss to Tate's forehead and leaving the room. The door clicking shut behind him softly. 

Tate looked at the little desk next to his bed to see a new phone and a cup of water waiting for him. He drank the water before picking up the phone and switching it on. Friday had stored all the data on his previous phone and it had already been switched to the new device. He flicked open the camera setting and turned it to Peter, snapping a photo. (Peter was being too cute, how could he resist?). When he was satisfied with and image, he turned the phone back off and placed back on the table. Then he gently slipped his hand into the open grasp of Peter's and squeezed it. 

Peter shifted and sighed before his fingers twitched and clasped over the palm. Tate smiled and shifted until he was comfortably supported by the pillows then squeezed again. Peter yawned and his eyes flickered open, staring unseeing for a few seconds as his brain woke up. Then he blinked and a smile spread slowly across his face. Tate smiled back and Peter sat up. "Tate", he moved closer, hand clasping around Tate's. "How do you feel?" 

"Sore. But alive", Tate replied. "Thank you for saving me. My hero". Peter flushed at the compliment. 

"I was so worried when you passed out. It was so scary. And you saved me too you know. Toomes might have killed me if you hadn't shot at him". Peter's hand squeezed over his and Tate felt his stomach flutter. 

"I'm okay", he reassured. "I'm alive". 

"Good", Peter breathed. He leaned forwards and placed his hand over Tate's cheek. Fingers cupping round his eye and gently pushing his hair from his face. His hand was callused and the bandages around his fingers were starched but Tate didn't mind. It was warm and he leaned into the touch. Peter smiled, face so fond that it was vulnerable. "We wouldn't be able to go on our date if you weren't". 

Tate felt his cheeks tug up. "You want to go on a date?" 

"Yeah. I want to go on a date with you".

Then he paused, "What about Liz?"

Peter sighed and then let out a dry chuckle. "I like her. But not as much as I like you. You have been there for me. Also, her dad tried to kill me and that is a bit of a downer".

Tate burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that his stitches hurt. "Oh no", he snorted. "Such a bummer. Really puts a strain on the relationship". 

"Tate!" Peter half gasped, half giggled. He tried to hide the smile growing on his lips. "It's not funny. He tried to kill you too". 

"0 out of 10. High key do not recommend", Tate flicked a thumbs up and gave Peter a smirk. The brown haired boy's hand fell from his face as he doubled over laughing. Tate sniggered and continued. "Terrible kidnapping service. Rated half a star. The dick didn't even bother to tie my hands, merely crashed my plane.  Almost killed me. Terrible work attitude and holds no regard for the hostage. The lack of wifi was atrocious and the negotiation was a mess. Should be fired from the business". 

Peter was giggling so hard that his face was turning pink. "You're terrible", he wheezed after a minute of trying to get his breath back. "Why am I friends with you?"

"Because you like me?" The reply came out more of a question. Peter's laughter died and he grinned at him with crinkled eyes. His hands came up to cup Tate's face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks. 

"I do like you Tate. You're amazing". Then Peter was leaning in. Tate rose up on his elbows to meet him, eyes falling closed. When their lips brushed, it was soft and light. Half a breath of stillness as each boy savoured the warmth of each other's presence. Then Tate sighed and melted into the touch, leaning forwards. A sharp pain made him gasp and he sunk back. 

"Are you okay?" Peter had followed him back, the boy half on the bed, leaning on the pillows on either side of Tate's head. Big round eyes worried. 

"Yeah. Just moved too suddenly", Tate winced and sunk back with a long breath. "The guy really did a number on my ribs". Then he blinked at Peter, big black eyes pleading. "Hugs?" He held out his arms. 

Peter's worry visibly drained as the boy melted with a smile. "Sure". He gently climbed up into bed beside him. Tate pulling the blankets back as Peter settled in beside him, being careful not to jog any injuries. Arms wrapping around his waist gently as the darker haired boy rested his head into the crook of his neck. Tate gave a satisfied hum and closed his eyes, listening to Peter's heartbeat and relaxing into the warmth. 

Peter gently brushed his hair out of his face. Voice soft and full of relief. "I am so glad you're okay". 

"That's because you saved me. My hero", Tate whispered back. He could hear Peter smile with a slight sigh. 

"I will always save you. I promise". 

"Don't promise me that", Tate huffed, blowing air across the boy's collarbones. "Because if I'm always the one being saved, then I can't save you". 

"Alright. You can save me". 

"I will hold you to that Peter". Tate yawned and nuzzled closer. Peter's warmth cushioning him as he drifted off. The hero stroking his hair back as he fell asleep. 

unedited

soft moments. they're so cute.