Peter wakes up to his dad coughing. He quickly rolls over so he's not like on top of him anymore. "Dad?" He questions. His father doesn't wake. He pokes him in the face and his dad'seyes fly open.

"Peter." He gasps. "Y-Yeah? Are you okay?" Peter asks. His dad nods but he looks so pale and Peter realizes with a sick stomach that the blood has spread and some of it is on his shirt.

Then he promptly passes out. "Dad!" Peter yells, rushing forward. He shakes his shoulder, trying to wake him but his dad stays unconscious. Tears rush to Peter's eyes again and he puts his ear by his dad's chest.

He lets out a horrified noise. Because his dad wasn't unconscious. He was dead.

"No! Dad!" Peter shrieks, ripping his jacket off. He doesn't care that it hurts like the fires of hell. He starts compressions, sobbing as he does so. "Dad! Dad wake up!" He wails.

He can't feel his fingers very well. He guesses they've probably gone numb from the cold. Just when Peter's about to stop and curl into a ball to die, his dad shoots up with a gasp.

Peter collapses into his lap crying. "Dad. Dad. Dad." He sobs. The man wraps his arms around the boy quickly. "I don't - Peter what's wrong?" He rasps. "You died!" Peter cries.

He doesn't notice the man paling. "Died? How - oh my god, are you Okay?" He whispers. Peter shakes his head, clutching his probably more injured arm to his chest.

And then they hear something that makes them both perk up. Car doors slamming and people yelling. "They found us!" Oeter exclaims hopefully. "The wreckage should be over there! Hurry the Stark-Rogers' May be hurt!" An unfamiliar voice calls.

Peter looks to his dad and they're both smiling. "Over here! We're over here!" The billionaire shouts. There's a few running footsteps and they're suddenly greeted with some shield members and a medical team.

Within seconds they're being carried on stretchers to some ambulances. Peter rolls his head towards his dad and gives him a thumbs up. They're finally going home.

Peter itches the skin around his cast with a frown. Why was it so itchy? Was he gonna have to live with an itch forever? He sighs and stops scratching. He kicks his booted foot into the air a few times and sighs again.

He quickly looks to the door when it opens. A smiling nurse stands here, holding a clipboard. "Your father is awake, if you want to come see him." Peter has never stood faster.

Okay so maybe he has, these crutches are hard to use. Especially with one arm in a cast. He follows the nurse out of the room and into the next where his dad is standing and pulling on a suit jacket.

Peter scowls but diesn't speak up. Of course his dad would want to leave immediately. He turns around with a smile. "Peter. Ready to go home?" Peter's eyes widen and he nods so hard he almost falls over.

His dad laughs and puts a hand on his back as he leads him outside. Peter suddenly panics. "No planes right?" He asks nervously. His dad cringes. "No planes for a while. I've had enough planes to last a life time, don't you think?" He jokes.

Peter giggles and they get into one of his father's many many cars. Peter nearly breaks the window trying to get the crutches in and his dad nearly has a heart attack.

And then finally they get to go home. And when his pops (really guys? You know what I meant. I fixed it so you guys can shush) scoops him up into the biggest hug ever, everything is just fine again. Maybe he'd ride a plane again one day. But not any day soon.