Tony didn't lose his nervous edge during the last twenty-four hours of Peter's stay in the medical wing. He wrung his hands, chugged black coffee, joked a lot, and generally carried an air of 'not chill.' Peter caught him rubbing at his wrist several times before the older man adopted a sense of subtlety, pointedly changing the subject whenever the teen stared at the offending hand, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

He waited for Tony to confess the cause of his stress, that was all he could do as he'd long ago determined that Stark would share what he wanted, when he wanted. No matter how often the younger reassured Tony that he was fine and adjusting well- all things considered, he still hovered around him, anxiety-riddled and spacey. The silver lining to this new development of Mother Hen Tony was that he supplied a bribe of snacks whenever Peter got antsy about the IV needle in his arm and complained. He'd never been in the Med Bay with Peter. Sure he'd dropped the younger off here in the past, but he hadn't stayed, and never ever had he seen Spider-Man with more than a few bumps and bruises at a time, and it showed. Yet for all his hovering, the hero remained a stickler of a nurse; refusing to listen to Peter's attempt at bargaining the removal of the casts. He wouldn't even let the IV be removed anything more than an hour early from when Cho it was okay.

It turned out, to Peter's unending surprise, that for a broken ankle, it was recommended to use what the doctors deemed a knee scooter...it looked entirely as ridiculous as it sounded. He was less than enthusiastic about its presentation and argued back and forth with Tony about its necessity. At least he did until Pepper put her foot down, snapping in the calm way only she could, that they both were children and needed to redirect their focus. Neither of them had been willing to argue with her, so Peter accepted the scooter and Pepper punched her partner in the arm for smirking when Peter struggle-bussed his way onto the damn thing.

Using the aid required Peter to roll around, propping his knee on the seat to alleviate any weight from his broken ankle, free foot propelling him like a basic amoeba. It took a lap or two around his room to master maneuvering, and while it was still lame by all standards, he found himself having the time of his life the afternoon on his release day. Unharmed leg strong enough to send him zooming, he'd begun launching himself up and down the hospital hallway, whipping into a fishtail and skidding to a stop with a heel to the ground. Stark was not having the time of his life in comparison, calling after the teenager through the doorway for the fourth time in as many minutes to,

"Please take a damn chill pill while I get these bags."

They both had been stir-crazy waiting to be discharged from the hospital wing and it showed, Tony on the impatient end while Peter bounced off the walls in typical fashion for himself. He'd woke in the morning feeling light and energized. It was all so much easier, between the pain medication and the comfort of being with Tony, he gained a level of rest usually unobtainable.

While Tony was gathering their things, Peter avoided helping as he "Needed both hands or else he'd fall off the scooter" They both knew it was the biggest load of crap, but it was only a few bags and he'd smiled so cheerfully after saying it that the older man crumpled like wet paper and shooed him and his scooter out the door to wait.

Finally stepping out of the stuffy hospital room, his mentor dodged around the scooter as Peter lapped the hallway. Disgruntled he snarked after him, "If you don't settle down I'm gonna break an ankle tripping over you, then you are going to pack horse up, carrying me and the bags." Peter lazily looped around Tony a final time, before hurrying ahead to the elevator, spinning a full one-eighty stop, just to see Tony stressed.

For all the hovering everyone was doing, he felt fine, sans the inconvenience of the bulky casts. His body was healing at an acceptable pace, the IV nutrients and shoving down four protein bars each meal boosting the process with every passing day. A doctor with too large of glasses had given Tony a packet and speech about the new dietary plan, summarizing it as beginning boringly bland and small, eventually working up to heavier portions and complexities. For the current time being, food was obtained by caloric density in the smallest deliverance possible, he couldn't argue too much. He'd even handled the information overload of meal planning better than his mentor, as Tony spent the entire time telling everyone to slow down as he wrote into a tiny notebook, antsy about forgetting a single instruction.

Peter didn't understand why Stark didn't have Friday document the details but he'd bit his tongue and waited patiently alongside the doctor as Stark frantically scribbled. He didn't care, he was cheerful, everyone was alive and the sun was shining.

"Do you think Pepper is back yet? I wanted to ask her about getting a few things for my room." With the turn of a new chapter, he found himself inclined to decorate the bland space where he'd lived for the last two weeks. During the night, he mentally ran circles trying to imagine the walls covered in posters, adding bits and pieces of himself into the spirit of the space.

It was exciting to be able to make something his own again. When he'd lost his first apartment, he'd left in a sorry state, his savings account entirely tanked, and homeless for nearly two months. During his time in the shelters, he'd pawned everything he had but May's quilt and whatever he could fit into his backpack. He kept his belongings small even after getting into the apartment where Tony had found him, which had been his longest stay. While his long-term home, it was the most sketchy if he was honest with himself. Therefore after his apartment had been broken into and his meager savings stolen, he began pinching pennies, promising himself not to spend any energy or hard-won funds on decorating a space that could be taken away from him.

"I'm just a pretty face and wallet to you two, it's hurting my creative spirit. I can help pick out things just as well as she can. Have you seen my suit? It's a classic."

The joke about money didn't bother Peter surprisingly, he only nodded sagely, pressing the up button on the elevator as Tony finally joined him at the doors. "Red and Gold, like the Saint Louis Cardinals. Very classy, yes, Tony."

The older man was a comical sight, three duffle bags loaded on his shoulders, hair ruffled from his stress fest earlier with the dietician. "I don't exactly know what that is," Tony spoke up, hauling one of the bag's straps up his arm where it had slid down. "But I am going to cut that off before I get dragged into discussing sports ball."

"Did you seriously call it sports ball?" Peter's voice climbed a few octaves, "It's baseball, America's greatest Pastime event and you-"

"As I was saying, Junior. There is something else I wanted to talk to you about, I didn't get the chance as we got to check out a lot later than I expected," he huffed, stepping into the elevator after Peter rolled himself in. They were indeed leaving the floor nearly two hours later than they'd planned.

Peter sighed with no lack of theatrics and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Can I get a snack before we start on phase two? I need something in my guts before I can take something for my achy-breaky leg, or Cho will chase me down." She certainly hadn't said it explicitly, but he didn't doubt it would happen. "I think we should watch something on the couch. You owe me a movie redo," an accusing hand left the scooter to point at Tony. "Don't give me that grumpy face, it's your fault. You fell asleep during the Fellowship of the Ring last night, it was criminal." The fact that Peter fell asleep soon after was moot, Tony's snoring had done its damage to the pride he took in the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Tony flapped a hand toward the teen as he selected their level, "I watched the gnomes run around for at least ten minutes, I did my part. I have put this off long enough, and we should talk. We've only got a couple of hours before-" but as the elevator doors opened Peter dodged out, barely squeezing around Tony in the doorway. He swung the scooter wide, sending himself off toward his bedroom, escaping the impending discussion.

"Immature!"

The complaint came too late, the escaped patient down the hall, wheels soundlessly carrying him through his door. Happy to be home again, he dove off the scooter to flop on the bed, smashing his face into the quilt still laid out where he'd left it. Taking comfort in its familiarity, his free hand began searching beneath his pillow for his abandoned phone. It had predictably died since he'd left the tower, and after a minor struggle for the charger chord, it began blinking to life after he plugged it in.

"Ms. Potts has left you a collection of items required for showering with your casts, should you want to do so," Friday informed him, queuing him in on the idea that maybe he should refresh himself before rolling around in his clean sheets.

Ever the Mistress of Prediction, he found that Pepper had indeed left a Walgreens bag full of Cast Covers on the counter. There was a second sack containing a shoulder sling, and a packet of Skittles beside it. He couldn't help smiling, imagining her picking him out a treat at check out. Prying open one of the Cast Covers he began scrutinizing the instructions.

The last experience he'd had with a cast was when he was the summer he turned eight when he broke his arm falling off his bike jumping a homemade ramp. Back then when bath time rolled around, they'd duct-taped saran wrap around the bulky cast. Needless to say, this was a definite step above what he thought he'd be dealing with for the next couple of showers.

Pinching his shirt between two fingers, he brought it to his nose and sniffed the collar, nose wrinkling in distaste at the smell of antiseptic and soap that clung to the fabric. Carefully guiding the scooter through the bathroom door, he dug up a change of clothes, ready to swim in their nearly scentless nature. He'd tried to force himself into nose blindness in the Med Bay as the overwhelming amount of cleaning products began burning his nostrils after too long, but unlike his hearing, his nose could not tune certain things out as he'd hoped.

As the shower water warmed, he stripped and began wrapping the casts, wasting only one with his clumsiness. Stepping into the entirely too-large shower stall, the warmth of the water seeped into his core, muscles loosening as he let himself stand and enjoy the water pressure. He'd never again take for granted Stark's quick heating water. The shower in his apartment never once surpassed lukewarm on a good day.

He worked methodically, washing away the evidence of the hospital, iodine stains, and antiseptic smell alike, running off with the soap suds. He held his sore shoulder as still as possible, unwilling to agitate it with the renewed wakening of warmed muscles.

The cold air nipped at him as he stepped out of the shower again, water trailing behind him as he hopped about, attempting to shove clothes over stiff limbs. The sharp ding of the elevator slipped through the crack in his door, and he thanked his lucky stars for Pepper's return, buying him a few more minutes from Tony as he struggled to shove his leg cast into a pair of pants. Deeming it a lost cause, he rolled his way back to the dresser, grabbing a loose pair of basketball shorts. It felt scandalous, his legs bare in the sight of Stark and Ms. Potts, even a little mortifying if he was honest with himself. He'd seen Tony in a tank top, he reminded himself as he sat on the bed and began tugging the shorts over the cast, it was the end of July, and a man had to live in shorts sometimes.

"Kid?" Stark's concerned shout reached his enhanced hearing through the walls.

"Yeah, yeah. Coming," he grumbled, slipping the sling over his head. He could hear a muffled female voice talking to Tony as he glanced around his walls one last time, picturing what size posters to tell Pepper they should look for together. She had a taste he could trust, she had to if she agreed that Tony had awful taste in the room's current sad state.

Snagging his towel off from the bed as he passed it, he began scrubbing at his damp hair. Low voices murmured over one another as Peter navigated the hall by memory alone, steering himself with one hand as he scrubbed the towel over his face, "Pepper, I need someone who has an eye for decorating." He said into the fabric, "Sorry Tony but you can't join this club, it's just for the gals. I was thinking, we should start with a couple of posters," he dragged the towel free, letting it hang over his good shoulder. "Do you think we could find-" his voice faltered, sentence dying on his lips.

May Parker sat at the opposite end of the couch from a stiff Pepper Potts and a wary Tony Stark.

She looked much the same, aside from the fact that she was tanner, her hair sun-bleached, and her face older. Then there was the fact that she dressed differently. Her hair was in a style Peter had never seen before, and she wore loafers on her feet instead of her beloved tennis shoes. She was a paradox, a well-known stranger, sitting with her shoulders squared even as she smiled at him. Crow's feet marked her eyes, she looked happy, healthy, and more importantly, here.

"May?" Peter turned a questioning stare to Tony. Pepper too was staring at her partner, the redhead's confusion was better hidden than his own, captured in the slight furrow of her brow. Her irritation was less so controlled, blatant in the rigidness of her posture and folded hands from her spot beside Tony.

"Oh, baby," May's voice sounded equal parts pitying and concerned; brown eyes taking in the casts, sling, and scooter. Peter paid her little notice at first, his gaze locked his mentor as he rose stiffly from his spot between Pepper and May, beginning to approach him slowly. Stark chewed at the edge of his thumbnail, a sign of nervousness, eyes darting around the teen's face blatantly waiting for an explosion from the younger.

The blaring question of why May was here took precedence, Peter caught between suspicion of Tony going behind his back and the bright hope that May had returned for him, finally free from her duties in California. Recalling his manners, he returned focus to his aunt, "You came back," a wobbly grin slapped quickly in place as Peter's hands gripped the scooter's handles, trying to process everything.

Tony stepped closer, a hand reaching for Peter's shoulder to draw him closer or to provide comfort, he wasn't sure. But the touch grounded him, and he let his weight sway partially into the older man's side. Mind still spinning on itself, he turned a wide-eyed stare to the other man, raising both eyebrows in question.

"Pete, come sit down." Nickname grating his nerves, he watched as May gestured to the cushion where Tony vacated, her tone hopeful and fond. With a pat from his mentor, Peter began rolling himself towards the couch, letting let May take his forearm, aiding his dismount from the scooter, bum leg dragging the cast heavily behind as he plopped between the two women. Pepper placed a hand on the small of his back, patting twice in encouragement, the motion hidden from May by his body.

"Let me get a good look at my kid," May's familiarity ensnared his focus, more than happy to relish her return while he could. She embraced him lightly, wary of the casts. "You're so different. I can't believe it, I left a teen and have come back to you." Her hands cupped his cheeks, squishing him once before dropping to his shoulders, face pinching notably in displeasure when she felt the sharp lines of his frame.

"Let me guess, you're about to tell me how roguishly handsome I have grown to be, and ask if I got a girlfriend yet, right?"

She snorted at the sarcasm, catching herself from delving further into the typical long-lost family member spiel. "You let me enjoy this face, young man. I haven't seen it in months. You look..." She paused, taking in the unsure light of his eyes and tentative smile, "You look just like your mom."

His face had changed, she was right, even he could see that with the loss of weight and the growth spurt after high school, he'd grown into an adult. The Parker late-bloomer genetics did not offer much in the manner of facial maturity before then. But he hadn't seen the resemblance reflected in the mirror, his mom's face never clear in his memories, and her pictures long ago packed away. It warmed him, having May asserting her familiarity with him, knowing his past and place within the family. Silly, but touching all the same.

A crooked grin overtook his face, boyish delight developing at her fawning. "Well, I can't get over how tan you are." He really couldn't, May had worked so much that her complexion never left its natural hue in New York. Now she was positively glowing, the sun having left her warmed in its wake, hair glinting gold on its bleached stands.

She was California's now, blushing at the observation as she punched him lightly in the side. Feeling the edge of ribs against her knuckles, she blinked in shock, both hands suddenly prodding at him, taking in the leanness under the baggy shirt. "You're so skinny!" A divot formed between her eyebrows as she looked at him in suspicion..

"The increased healing factor has taken a lot out of him. It was pulling from his body's reserves, he's okay, May." Tony jumped in with a half-truth, saving Peter a very awkward conversation.

The teen tossed an appreciative glance toward Tony, pushing May's touch off of his side gently with his free hand, "I am doing just fine, Mr. Stark is fattening me back up again." May nodded, not quite satisfied but accepting, huffing a breath out of her nose.

"Getting fat doesn't fix your broken bones. Good grief, Peter. What did you do?"

"I did what I had to," he clenched his teeth, unwilling to regret his decision. He felt defensive of himself suddenly, bristling at the potential argument to come.

But May only frowned, seeming to understand, "You got yourself in a doozy this time, didn't you?" He couldn't even begin to explain to her how a doozy barely scratched the surface, Friday's long list of injuries and complications running through the back of his mind from the morning he woke for the second time this year in the Med Bay.

"Parker luck," he supplied in explanation, the only way to summarize the series of misfortune that he seemed to entangle with.

"That isn't real," she laughed as if it was a joke, then smiled softly, "I came for you."

He'd waited all this time for her visit, had dreamed of it so much that he hardly could contain his excitement, chest tight with anticipation. "This is great, how long are you staying? There is so much that I want to do with you, we can go to Delmar's. I can show you this cat I found, you'd love him. He's like always there, we call him-"

"No, Pete." She interjected softly. He swallowed thickly, and Tony kissed his teeth behind him in quiet twin displeasure, aware of Peter's discomfort with the name. May suddenly seemed nervous, she pat his hand in consolation for cutting him off from planning her visit. "I came to take you home with me." Worried eyes watched as he stared back in unhappy confusion. It seemed her plan had been kept mum from even Tony, as the older man sputtered.