Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’re going in without your suit, Mr. Stark?” The kid asks just as he swings by and lands on the roof of the building just beside Tony, who’s scanning the building across from them with his glasses for any heat-signatures. Peter crouches in his spider-fashion at the ledge, watching the building as well.

“What are you on about? My suit’s right here.” Tony quips with a slight grin, tapping on the center of his jacket twice. Metal clanks with his fingernails and he’s sure that Peter’s took notice of that.

The kid tilts his head, standing up, “What was that?” He asks, sounding too much like Pepper when she’s about to call him out on something.

Tony rolls his eyes, opening his jacket to reveal the home of his suit, and Peter’s goggles widen as he takes a step to examine it,

“Woah!” He stares at the device then at Tony’s face, then back at the device, “You mean-”

“Yup. Nanotechnology. Still a work in progress, but it doesn’t hurt to test it. That’s the housing of the nano-particles. Pretty dope, I know. No need to drool all over it, kid.” He remarks with a grin, and Peter just stares at it before shifting his focus back on Tony,

“Pepper’s gonna kill you.” Tony can hear the grin forming on the kid’s face as he says that, and he suppresses the urge to laugh.

“Well, tell me something I don’t know.” He chuckles, then gets serious, “Alright, enough chattering. Let’s focus here. You know why I called you, right?”

Peter watches the empty building again, “Yeah. HYDRA stuff. Dangerous weapons. But I guess no bad guys’ asses to kick?”

“Exactly. We’re just going in and out. But I needed you just in case there is anybody in there.” Peter turns to him, and he senses the question before it’s asked, “Not like I can’t take them out on my own, but again, this is still a work in progress.” He points at his arc-reactor, then scans the building one more time, “So if anything goes wrong, which they hopefully won’t, it’s on you to contact Pepper or Rhodey.” He pauses, “Actually, Rhodey’s kinda busy, so maybe just Pep.”

Peter audibly gulps, nervousness seeming to creep in him at the mention of something going wrong, but doesn’t dwell on it. Tony’s glad he doesn’t. Truthfully, he’s been involving the kid in much more missions with him in order to keep a close eye on him. Since the plane crash, Tony’s been way more interested in the kid’s abilities and hoped he could improve them to their full potential, but he couldn’t do so without effectively seeing them in action. So when a mission is simple enough, he invites the kid to the party just for the heck of it.

Plus, the kid’s fun to hang out with, whether he’s Spiderman or Peter Parker. They’ve been significantly spending a lot of time together and, what can Tony say? The kid’s crept his way into his heart in such a short time, it’s scary.

“Alright, let’s go.” Tony taps on his chest for the Nano-bots to attach to him like second skin, albeit the process being a bit slow. He’s still working on that.

“Right.” Spiderman snaps his webs onto a lamppost and swings gracefully till he’s at the building’s entrance. He looks back at the roof of the opposite building to see that Tony’s suit has yet to fully form,

“Mr. Stark?” He shouts.

“Just a second!” Tony yells back.

“As cool as this is, Mr. Stark, we don’t have all day!” Peter taunts with a smile that’s hidden beneath his mask.

“It’s presentational!” Tony bites back, a bit defensively. Just the tips of his limbs left.

“It’s boring!” Peter chuckles at the death stare Tony sends him from a mile away.

“Did you just call Nano-bots forming the Iron Man suit boring?!” The suit’s done. And the thrusters burst to life.

“And what if I did?!” Peter challenges, already running inside.

“Oh, you just hurt my feelings,” Tony glides off the ground and zooms right after Peter in way more speed than necessary, “Come here you little shit!”

“WAAAA-” Peter half-screams, half-cackles.

-

“Okay, before you say anything, I have to admit that flying in with the suit was definitely a bad idea…” Tony mutters once they regain their bearings, looking around and only now realizing how old this place looks.

“Yeah, a terrible idea. The place is super structurally unsound.” Peter, no mask on this time, sounds as concerned as Tony feels, there even is a hint of panic in his voice that the older man doesn’t miss. He’d remark on that, hadn’t there been an unstable roof over their heads.

“All the more reason for us to get moving.” He doesn’t miss a beat, trudging deeper into the building that had seemingly came out of a horror movie, Peter in tow.

They both separate to cover more area, comms secure in their ears in case either of them find any signs of the HYDRA weapons they’d been informed about anonymously. It was a secret number Tony couldn’t hack into and identify its owner that called him, an unknown voice giving out their location. Something along the lines of: They’ll use the weapons to take out the whole city rang in Tony’s ear before the line was abruptly cut off.

It's not like Tony's stupid, he doesn’t believe a single word he’s heard out of that guy’s voice– yet another part of him urged that it doesn’t hurt to check. And so, here they are.

Rhodey would probably kill him for not informing him on that, but the man has a party for his honor today and Tony didn’t have the heart to drag him along. He grins at the image of Rhodey just losing his shit at the two of them leaving him out of a mission. Again.

Upon further inspection, Tony discovers that they’re standing in a three story building that’s been abandoned at least fifty years ago. Great. He begins to search faster.

“Anything suspicious or weird catches your eye you tell me immediately, understand?” He orders through the comms, as if Peter needs to be reminded of that.

“I know, Mr. Stark.” Peter’s voice is slightly shaky, and Tony notices how the boy isn’t his usual rambley-self at the moment. He sighs in order to keep his own nerves in check.

“Hey, I know this is probably a little scary, but I promise we’ll get out of here in thirty minutes, tops. Maybe even in less time than that. It doesn’t matter if we don’t find anything.”

Peter opens a bunch of drawers as he speaks, hating how small he sounds- and to his idol, of all people. He’s sure that Mr. Stark’s own reading on why he’s so nervous is drastically far from the truth, but he rolls with it because, hey, they don’t have time to discuss how he grew a claustrophobia from an incident that’s happened months ago, do they?

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. But, honestly, I don’t wanna leave this place empty-handed.” He heads to a locker just beside a cracked window, opening it to reveal nothing.

“You and me both, kid.” The other end of the line is suddenly filled with sharp clanking and wood-breaking noises that make Peter wince. It’s distracting to say the least. Peter debates on taking the ear-piece off entirely before he thinks the better of it. Tony would totally freak out if he doesn’t hear from him in the next two seconds.

“H-Hey, Mr. Stark. Do you… need help with anything?” Peter grimaces as another crash explodes his ears, sensing a terrible migraine coming. He’s one peep away from ripping the ear piece out and crushing it entirely in his fist.

“No-” Tony’s voice comes out strained, a crash following, “Just… a stupid metal box that wouldn’t open.” Crash.

“I-I can come over and help with my- you know… super-strength and all…” Sentences are hard to form when his hyper-sensitive ears are trying to endure this torture. Crash.

“No, I got this. You-… You keep on searching and I’ll tell you if I find anythi…”

Just then, a sharp tingle runs down Peter’s spine and he pauses, eyes darting around frantically in search of the hidden threat that his senses are flaring at. Mr. Stark’s words enter his mind as echoes that could easily be mistaken as hallucinations if Peter didn’t have a good grasp on his conscious in order to determine what’s wrong. Another crash follows, eerily silent this time, and Peter absently takes the ear-piece off in order to focus. It may have fallen from his hand, Peter doesn’t notice.

He looks around, feeling the goosebumps on his arms intensify the more he did. This isn’t right. He can feel it. Something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong and they’re right in the middle of it.

“No, no, no, no,” He shakes his head once he regains his bearing, eyes snapping towards the cracked window, now noticing how much more cracked it’s gotten.

“Mr. Stark-” He whispers like the man could hear him, taking a step back from the window, and suddenly his mind clicks-

“MR. STARK!”

Tony’s just in the other room, but the distance feels way longer than it should as he picks his pace. So many steps in so little time. And Peter would know how little time they got, because it’s like a time-ticking bomb counting down inside his brain- forty seconds.

He stops just as he enters the room Tony’s in, and immediately he can sense the man’s alert once they lock eyes. Peter’s face pales when he notices how armor-less his mentor is.

“Kid, what’s happening-”

“Put on the suit right now, Mr. Stark!”

Tony taps on his arc reactor before he even dwells on it; he could get answers later. Right now the kid’s a heaving mess with panic painting his every feature-

The suit doesn’t come out.

Tony taps on the device again. Nothing.

“Shit. Not now.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter orders again, desperately. Twenty seconds. The exit’s far. They won’t make it out. He has to make sure that Tony’s at least protected from whatever’s gonna happen.

“I-I can’t- It’s malfunctioning!” Tony stutters– something he never does. Peter’s heart drops down twenty feet. Ten seconds.

Peter’s hyper-sensitive ears pick up a gruff yell a mile away. He doesn’t know where it’s from, doesn’t know whose it is, but the words themselves answer all questions,

“Say goodbye, Iron Man!”

This was a set-up all along.

Five seconds.

“GET DOWN!” Tony is startled out of his mind at how loud and unnerving his mentee’s voice can get and before he could do what he’s told, something– no, someone knocks the air out of him and does the job for him. The world is loud, everything’s unfolding a second too fast for his mind to catch up as a strident bomb deafens him and a bright light blinds him and then- nothing.

Nothing except for a CRASH.

Chapter Text

Tony wakes with a start, and really wishes he hadn’t.

The first thing he does is gasp, trying to fill his deprived lugs with air because it feels like he’s being suffocated, while simultaneously trying to take in his surroundings. It’s dark, way too dark for his liking, but he can spot a strand of light, a slim glimmer of hope out of this burning feeling just a few miles next to him between the rubble-

Wait, rubble?

That’s when his genius mind snaps, because the tightness in his chest suddenly grows ten times worse. He panics, for just a moment, trying to draw in any sort of breath but failing miserably. He tries to move one of his hands; fails. Tries to move either of his legs, yet he can’t feel them. What he can feel, however, is blood that’s seeping out of the back of his head. He tries to scream, ends up coughing instead. With each cough pain shoots through his chest and stomach and throat and Oh Lord is that blood-

The hacking fit leaves him tired and breathless, yet he doesn’t dare let a single tear escape his eyes. It’s not that serious. He closes his eyes instead, trying his best to stifle the panic down the deepest hell hole. He shouldn’t be out of control. He needs– he needs to get help. Yeah, yeah. That’s right. Push the panic button. Or- Or call Rhodey. Or Pep. Pep might get help. But Peter would’ve done that already, wouldn’t he? Because Tony had told him-

His eyes snap open. He almost has another panic attack.

“Peter?!” He wheezes, voice hoarse and terrible. He doesn’t care. “Kid?!” His neck cracks painfully with each turn. He doesn’t care. “Peter-!”

He stops, blinking at the sound of slow breathing… that doesn’t belong to him.

Tony hauls his head, ignoring the amount of pain that the action brought him, and actually sags in relief.

Peter’s here. Right on top of him. And he didn’t notice.

He clutches onto the fact that Peter’s here like a lifeline that saves him from the spiraling urge of sobbing or screaming or panicking. Or doing all three. Peter’s here. Here.

The relief is short-lived, however, because Tony then registers the second statement. Peter’s here, but right on top of him. A frown crosses his face and cranes his neck again, trying to make out any of the kids’ features in the dark. Unfortunately, he’s only met with damp, curly hair that hides Peter’s face from him. The frown deepens.

What the hell happened? He finally asks, a little bit too late.

He lifts a shaking hand, his only free hand for that matter, wandering to feel the kid’s face and then putting two fingers on his neck once he finds it. He knows it doesn’t make sense– he’s just heard the kid breathing a second ago, but Tony’s mind is aching for another kind of reassurance. So he holds his breath for a moment, to find it, slow and steady. A pulse.

Sighing in relief, he then hauls his arm in order to see his wrist. For whatever force of nature in the world, Tony prays a million times because this is the arm that holds the panic-signaling device, and he prays a million times more because it’s in one piece. He presses the button with his nose, boops it, as Peter would have described, and watches in pure anticipation before the red dot of their location appears, implying that the device is working. Tony slumps once that’s done, tired, but nonetheless thankful.

He gulps, wondering what to do next. It doesn’t take long for him to stick to his number one coping mechanism for silence– chattering, “Christ, kid.” He holds back a cough, “Rhodey’s definitely gonna kill the two of us.” he groans, then lifts his head. He can’t take it. As much as he’d like to let Peter sleep this one through and save him the panic and pain he’d probably feel, Tony is unnerved at how silent and slack the kid is. He feels lifeless. The vibration of the kid’s heartbeat that rams through his chest apparently isn’t enough conviction.

“Alright, up and about, buddy.” He searches with his hand for a second before he finds Peter’s cheek, and slaps it lightly, nothing. “Come on, kid, don’t scare your old man like that.” He taps him again, a little firmer this time, and Peter shifts slightly. Tony latches onto that progress, and continues to tap him, “Yeah, yeah. That’s it. Just open your eyes. Let me know you’re okay.” He strains, and what comes next isn’t anything of what Tony was expecting.

Peter firstly lets out a cough, one that shakes his whole form and shakes the man along with it, but it doesn’t stop there– a wet cough after a wet cough, his chest vibrating against Tony’s own, and the man can feel how painful each hack is for the young teen who has barely slipped out of unconsciousness.

Something grips at Tony’s back, and it is only now that he realizes that Peter’s two hands are wrapped around him, fisting the back of his shirt so firmly it almost tears. Tony has no idea what to do,

“Peter. Kid, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He tries, his voice drowned out by the aggressive coughing and gasping the boy’s emitting. Peter pants and trembles, croaking,

“I can’t breathe! I can’t-” He coughs again, and Tony’s protective instincts immediately burst to life,

“Hey, hey, Peter, it’s okay-” He attempts to put a hand on the back of Peter’s neck, but it doesn’t do the trick. The kid spasms with each cough, his panic clearly making it worse,

“Please- I n-need to get out! I-I can’t m-move! Help-” He sobs and flails, and Tony can feel himself pale. Peter doesn’t realize I’m here.

“Peter! Hey, look at me. Look at me!” He calls, craning his neck in order to meet the boy’s eyes. Peter finally hears him because he stops thrashing, and ever so slowly turns his own head into his direction. Tony makes out the red painting Peter’s cheek even in the dim light, and the puffy eyes with tear streaks make Peter look younger than ever. The teen stares at him like he’s not sure if he’s actually there. “I’m here, Peter. I’m here.” He says, determined and strong for the kid’s sake, despite the tightness in his chest and the pain of his heaving lungs, “I’m not leaving you.”

Peter melts right after, another set of tears following as he rests his forehead onto Tony’s chest, a wrecked sob instead of a cough shaking him this time, “Mr. Stark…” He cries like he can’t believe it.

“That’s right. It’s me.” Tony’s finally able to rest his head back, drawing in a shaky breath he didn’t know he’s been holding, “You gave me quite a scare there, bud…”

The arms wrapped around him squeeze him a little firmer, and Tony doesn’t mind. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Peter whispers, and Tony feels the wetness on his shirt growing. The kid gulps down audibly and it sounds so painful.

“Hey, none of that.” He tries to squeeze his mentee back, but he can’t get a good grip on the Spider-man suit, “What are you even-” he suppresses a groan, “apologizing for?”

“I-I felt this c-coming- I-I heard the man too late- so I couldn’t- I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Peter continues to tremble with sobs, it’s beginning to worry Tony a bit.

“Hey, look, I need you to calm down first. Can you do that for me, Pete?” He croaks, too tired to lift his head this time, but he figures the squeezing of the boy’s neck is enough to send a message.

Peter nods frantically against his chest, taking in small, wheezing breaths. Tony stays silent for most of it, merely rubbing small circles on the teen’s neck.

“You’re okay.” He whispers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. It just feels right. “You’re okay.” He repeats it like a mantra.

He can feel the kid’s stiff form easing gradually, and can hear his breathing slowly softening -as soft as it can get when you’re crushed under debris, anyway-. Peter finally lifts his head to look at him, and Tony does the same, albeit it causing a splitting headache.

“Are you okay, M-Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, and Tony stares in disbelief because wow, this shouldn’t be the boy’s first rational thought.

“Jesus, kid.” Tony rests his head back on the ground with a thump, wincing, “You just came out of one hell of a panic attack. Have a feeling you’re mixing up the roles, here.”

Peter places his cheek on Tony’s chest, exactly where his arc reactor should be -Did it come off when the building collapsed? Tony asks himself but doesn’t find the energy to care-, “J-Just asking…” Peter strains, voice feeble and small, and a bit of guilt bubbles in Tony for a reason he can’t put his finger on.

So he answers the question, sighing dramatically first, “I’m okay, Peter. Honestly can’t feel my legs to determine if they’re broken or dislocated, but other than that I’m fine. Well, except for the concussion. Actually, now that I think about it, everything’s sore. Just feel like one big bruise.” He plays with the boy’s hair absently as he speaks, hating to admit how comforting this feels, even though a ten ton of rubble is probably crushing them down right now, “What about you, bud? And don’t you dare lie to me. I can feel your heartbeat right now; Earth’s natural lie detector. That shit picks up and I call you out. No mercy.” He jokes, hoping to hear the kid chuckle or laugh, but apparently it’s too much to ask for because Peter just stays silent before answering,

“I-I can feel one of my legs bleeding, and my face and head are sore. Also my back hurts, too, like a lot. It hurts to breathe…” Peter manages to say, turning to rest his forehead on Tony’s chest again, apparently finding comfort in that. Peter presses his mouth into a thin line as he brushes his nose against Tony’s shirt, and the man bites back his own words once he feels silent tears landing on his body, “I’m really scared, Mr. Stark.”

The man swears he can feel his own heart break in two, and denies the wetness in his eyes because he’s definitely not tearing up. He silently finds Peter’s shoulder, squeezes it as strongly as he can, and whispers,

“We’re gonna be okay, Peter. I promise. I’ll never let anything happen to you.” He silently vows to never break that promise. He doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if he does, “Help’s on the way, I already sent out a signal. Only a matter of time before Rhodes or Pep see it and get us out of here. We just gotta hang on a little longer.”

Peter nods shakily, gasps returning but a little quieter than before. Tony has a feeling the kid’s doing all he can to suppress another panic attack at the moment, so he tries to come up with anything that might distract the kid long enough until help arrives. Before he can get a word out, though, Peter beats him to the punch,

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” Tony wants to punch something. Why the hell is he apologizing this time? He doesn’t get the chance to snap with a No, you shouldn’t be sorry because Peter continues, “I-I know I’m scaring you- it’s… it’s just that…”

“You’re scared.” Tony finishes for him, “And that’s fine, Peter. It’s not like I blame you.” He pauses, “But next time give me a heads up before you jump on me, if you please? I’m old, you know.”

Peter huffs out a laugh, and Tony smiles. Finally,

“‘Course…” Peter nods before placing his ear onto Tony. The man plays with his hair again, “I just didn’t know what to do. Everything… everything was so loud and you didn’t ‘ave your suit on… So I-I did the first thing that came up to my mind…”

“And that was stupid, because you shouldn’t take hits for me, bud. Who’s the adult here, exactly?” Tony sighs, feeling guilt creep in him all of a sudden. He hadn’t realized that Peter was effectively willing to die if it meant saving his life, until he said that out loud. The weight of the stunt the kid’s just pulled is suddenly evident and it makes him feel like a dozen pile of more rubble has been added on top of him.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. The kid’s probably took notice of his wild heartbeats.

“God- just, please, never do anything like that ever again,” He grips on Peter’s head, pressing his lips into a thin line as he draws in a breath. Peter gives a nod and stays silent, letting him calm down a little. Once the man's heart rate goes back to normal, Peter speaks,

“You… you think I should try to move? Maybe I can get some of the rubble off of us-” He wriggles ever so slightly.

“What? Wait, Wait- no- oh my God, Peter, are you out of your mind?!” Tony's heart accelerates faster then before, forcibly stilling the kid, “What are you on about?!”

“You know? Super strength-”

“Super strength now, huh?” Tony lifts his head, “Honey, you have a busted leg and sound like you’ve inhaled a good amount of charcoal. Settle down.”

Peter’s chest stiffens like he’s about to protest, but then exhales, “Fine.”

Tony bumps his head back with a grimace, This kid’s gonna be the death of me. Then a thought crosses his mind as he frowns, “You said something earlier, about a man. What was that about?”

Peter stays silent for a second, as if debating on what to say, until he rasps, “Heard a guy right before the building toppled on us. He was probably outside. All I could hear from him was something along the lines of Goodbye Ironman or… or something. It’s all kinda fuzzy.”

“Motherfucker.” Tony curses under his breath, before addressing Peter, “So it was a set up. The building didn’t just magically collapse?”

“Yeah, I bet there were bombs implanted, too, but I didn’t notice those… sorry…”

“Kid, for the love of God, if you say sorry one more time I might actually hurl something at your already concussed head.”

“Sorry.” Peter teases, lifting his head to give him a confused glance, “And there’s nothing for you to hurl here?”

“Trust me, kid, there’s always something to hurl. Just ask Pepper.” He shoots a grin and Peter smiles back, then they’re both out of each other’s sights again. It’s kind of infuriating.

“Can you hear anything?” Tony asks after a beat of silence, “Like, thrusters? Or the imminent swearing of Rhodey?”

Peter focuses for a second, before he shakes his head. It’s quiet for a while, all except for labored breathing from the two of them, and Tony fears the kid might be slipping into unconsciousness again, something he can’t afford, so he comes up with any topic,

“How’s school? This Flash guy still bothering you?”

Peter’s silent for a second, “Yeah, but it’s no big deal, though. ‘s nothing I can’t handle…”

Peter’s words are slurred, which is a big no-no for Tony. He wanders with his hand and rests it on Peter’s forehead, then carefully lowers it in order to confirm his suspicion. Yup.

The kid’s eyes are closed.

“What are you doin’?” Peter whispers, scrunching his eyes once Tony feels them.

Tony answers the question with a question, “Are you trying to sleep?” He lifts his head but drops it down quickly. Gosh he’s tired, “You better open your eyes, Pete, or a smack to the head is what you’re gonna feel next.”

Peter noticeably stiffens, and then shakes his head, “I-I don’t want to.”

This sends a frown to the older man’s face, a bit of worry building up, “No, seriously, Peter, I can’t have you sleeping on me.” Literally, he doesn’t say, “It’s just for a little while, I promise-”

“I’m not trying to sleep. I’m just…” Peter trails off with a groan, worrying Tony further.

“Just what? Are you hurt somewhere else and didn’t tell me? Because I should know, Peter-”

“No, no, it’s that-” He sighs, “If-If I opened my eyes, I’m gonna freak out, and-and if I freak out you’ll freak out and I don’t- I don’t want that to happen…”

Tony thinks for a moment, finding the declaration a bit odd but doesn’t push it, “That I don’t say isn’t plausible, but I still need you to avoid sleeping as much as possible, Peter. Just… try and focus on something else-”

Peter shakes his head way more firmly this time, tears dripping onto his shirt. “No, no, just- please let me be, Mr. Stark. I-I promise I won’t sleep- I promise I won’t-”

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down there, kid,” Tony’s startled by how panicked the kid sounds at just a simple request, and he can’t help but ask, “Are you okay? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t normal. You gotta talk to me. What’s wrong?” Tony’s had his fair share of anxiety attacks to know exactly what’s happening. Had something set the kid off? Something Tony said?

“I-I…” Silent tears double over on his shirt, though Peter doesn’t audibly sob, “It’s s-stupid, Mr. Stark. I-It just happened a few m-months back and I… I didn’t think I’d need to t-tell you because there was no way I-I’d go through that again-”

“Let me stop you right there, kiddo,” Tony speaks calmly, earnestly, “You’re giving me more questions than answers, here. You’ve gotta relax. Take a deep breath.”

“It h-hurts…” Peter mumbles.

“It’ll help.” Tony encourages, and feels Peter’s chest press onto him until he exhales, “That’s right. Good job. Now, you were saying?”

Peter retakes a deep breath, shaking as he holds in a cough, “You- you sure you wanna hear it…?”

Tony snorts, “Underoos, you’re killing me here. Just get on with it.”

He feels a small nod against him, then Peter starts, “This… this isn’t the first time this happens to me…”

Tony freezes, eyebrows furrowing, “This as in… what exactly?” He doesn’t come up with any jokes, fear settling into him as he braces himself for an answer he probably wouldn’t like the sound of.

“This.” Peter repeats, “U-Under rubble…” And hurt and scared and helpless are unsaid but Tony swears he hears as dangerous thoughts overwhelm him and before he gets the chance to ask when or where or how, Peter continues, “A few months back. The- the day of the plane crash, remember? M-Moving day? The guy that I caught– T-Toomes, or-or Vulture guy, set up a similar trap for me before h-he could go after your plane…” Peter hisses quietly, but keeps going like he’s been waiting his whole life to tell this story. Tony keeps himself from interrupting with every fiber of his being, knowing that he needs to let Peter handle this one, “He… He distracted me long enough until the Warehouse fell on me, and- and I was out for a while but when I-I opened my eyes all I could see was wr-wreckage and darkness, like right now but it was worse,” he takes a breath, voice raw and shaky, “It was so much worse because no one was th-there, Mr. Stark, and-and I knew no one was coming but I called for help anyway…” He stifles a sob, “I-I’ve never been so scared in my life…”

“Jesus Christ, Peter,” Tony mumbles along with the last line, feeling tears well up in his own eyes. The lump in his throat grows as he closes his eyes to keep the horrible image away. Peter, all alone in the dark, crying for help that wouldn’t come under a shit ton of debris. An image Tony knows would haunt him till the end of time and would never forgive himself for even letting it happen. Sensing a panic attack coming, Tony tries his best to keep his nerves at bay. He attempts to breathe steadily, placing his hand atop of the boy’s head to feel a little more grounded. He wishes he could see Peter’s face, or pull him closer, or have had this conversation literally any time else– when the kid isn’t forced to relive something as traumatic as that. No wonder the boy’s too scared to even open his eyes.

“I- I guess I should stop…” Peter whispers, and Tony curses himself for letting his dread show.

“No, go on, I wanna hear it,” He says firmly, because that’s the least someone like him deserves.

Peter seems to know him better than he’d anticipated, because he says, “You don’t have to blame yourself,” He sounds smaller than Tony’s ever heard him, “Toomes- he’s the one who trapped me there-”

Self-loathing takes the best of Tony, “Don’t bullshit me, Parker.” he hisses back with a grimace, angry at himself, “I’m the one who took your suit away, the only thing that might’ve protected you back then. I don’t care what you say, what happened that day is one hundred percent my responsibility, no one else’s.”

Silence engulfs the two of them, and Peter’s hold on him loosens a little. It’s a while before the younger speaks, “I had it coming, Mr. Stark.” He says slowly, but with enough force to send the message across, “Like you said, it was the tough-love moment that I needed to urge me on.” Tony stiffens at the recite his own words– knowing now that he’d said them so- so casually right after scarring the poor kid sickened him to no extent. He lets go of Peter’s hair to cover his eyes with the crook of his elbow -not giving a damn about how the movement sends waves of pain all over his body-, frustrated and tired and just- angry. So fucking angry. He feels like blasting something.

Peter ignores Tony’s intense reactions and continues, “And, Mr. Stark, you were right. Y-You know how I was able to get out of there?” Tony can feel Peter’s head shift positions, and he lifts his arm off of his eyes, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t thought about that– which is stupid, because Peter must’ve made it out one way or another. The boy on top of him is living proof that he survived, and Tony was so caught up in his guilt that his genius mind forgot to do its job for a second there -which is think logically-. Slowly, he lifts his head, to meet Peter’s tear-stricken eyes, that have opened to send him a look. Tony arches a brow with a locked jaw and that’s basically enough for Peter to continue,

“I remembered what you said. About me being nothing without the suit.” Peter makes sure he doesn’t stutter once, despite how disoriented he is, “And then I thought– if Spiderman could get out of there, what’s stopping me? So I pushed. Lifted the rubble. Got out. Might’ve been the coolest thing I’ve ever done-”

“I-I’m sorry, just think I misheard you there-” Tony interrupts, because there’s no way he heard that right, “Did you just say… you lifted the rubble?”

Peter presses his mouth into a thin line, then nods sheepishly.

Tony plops his head back, feeling like he’d just had a mini-stroke right then and there, “You really are gonna be the death of me…” He sighs, rubbing his face with his free hand. Another thought dawns on him, “Is that why you were trying to get the debris off of us, earlier? Because if that’s so, so help me, Parker-”

“I was thinking about it…” Peter says with the faintest of smiles, “Until I realized that l-last time the concrete under me cracked, and since you’re under me this time… you know?”

Tony snaps his mouth shut, knowing exactly how much force it takes to crack concrete. Applying the same pressure on himself would shatter bones at the bare minimum. Again– at the bare minimum.

He sighs, feeling exhausted. Either from the amount of information he’s received, or the blow to his head– he doesn’t care. It’s getting harder to think or speak, but he does anyway because the last thing he’d want is pass out on Peter,

“And then what? Are you tryna tell me you went after the plane after all that shit?” Tony knows the answer, just wishes Peter would tell him otherwise.

“Well, y-yeah…” Peter rests on his cheek, undoubtedly closing his eyes, “I wasn’t really hurt. Not physically. It was more about the scare.” He pauses, “I… Wow, I’m surprised I actually feel better. This is the first time I talk about that day with someone. E-Even Ned doesn’t know all of what happened…” Tony places a hand on Peter’s hair absently, physical reassurance, something that even Tony needs right now. He’ll never get over the fact that he needs the kid as much as the kid needs him. It’s heartwarming and scary all at the same time. “Thanks, Mr. Stark…”

“The hell are you thanking me for?” Tony snorts, “You did the heavy lifting all by yourself, kid.”

Peter cracks a smile, Tony knows even if he can’t see the teenager’s face, “For- For listening. You know-?” He strains, a cough shaking his body that he so desperately tries to hold in. Peter hisses, and Tony feels how his chest stutters with each breath, “Ow…”

“Hey, easy there,” He takes a gentler approach, trying to breathe steadily in order for the kid to do the same, “I’m proud of you, Peter. Well, for two different reasons. Trusting me enough to tell me what happened that day, and actually doing what you’ve done that day- That’s one hell of a stunt you pulled, kid. Not even I could do that.”

Peter was about to respond before Tony interrupts, “Upupup- Let me finish. That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook yet.” Tony recollects his breath, “And it doesn’t mean I’m not mad. Doing what you did that day wasn’t necessarily stupid, you were trying to save your life. What’s stupid is not telling me any of this sooner.” He stretches out the word, “Because talking solves stuff. And you’ve lived with this incident for… how long now? Four months? Keeping your mouth shut about it? Yeah, how did you think that’d do your mental being any good? Huh? This was traumatic.”

“I told you, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers, “I didn’t think it’d ever happen to me a-again. Thought it was a one-time thing then… then the feelings would go away…”

“And yet, here we are.” Tony mutters a bit coldly, sighing, “Sorry I just…” He trails with a groan, trying to get a hold on what he’s trying to say, “Gosh, this sucks. I really wish I could give you a hug right now, kiddo. Like, an actual hug, not whatever crap this is.”

Peter chuckles softly, his hold tightening ever so slightly, “This isn’t so bad. Could do without the pillar pinning me down, though.” Tony huffs out a laugh, closing his own eyes, tired. The smell of dust is getting old and the lack of lighting sometimes makes him believe that he’s blind. Ruffling Peter’s curls is what makes this all a little better. A little down-to-earth. Though it isn’t much. Sometimes he feels like succumbing to panic and never going back up-

“What about you, Mr. Stark?” Peter’s weak voice cuts in on his spiraling thoughts, snapping him back to reality with a little gasp. If Parker’s noticed, he didn’t comment, “Is there something you’ve never told anyone?”

Tony takes his time to register the question, before a smile cracks, “What? Suddenly it’s a talking session?”

He could hear the same smile form on Peter’s face, “Well, I’m gonna sleep if I don’t have somethin’ to hold on to. Gimme some credit here…” And yeah, he sounds just as tired as Tony feels.

“Alright, you sassy little twerp.” Tony doesn’t know how to feel about the role-reversal. Suddenly it’s Peter who’s urging him to talk, “Let’s see… what was the question again?”

Peter bumps him with his head a little, “Mr. Staaark…”

“Yeah, got it.” He smirks, then it falls as he settles on what he’s going to say. Doesn’t mean he isn’t a little on edge, however, “You…” he gives a frustrated sigh, “You know about the… fallout between me and Cap, kid?”

It’s silent for a minute before Peter snorts, “You mean before… or after I got dragged into it?”

Tony can’t help but chuckle, “Hey, hush, now is not the time you turn into Pepper 2.0; appreciate that I’m trying to explain something deep, here.” Peter lets out a breathy laugh, “And yeah, by the way, after. A little after.”

The air is solemn for a moment as Peter goes silent, and then mutters, “You mean… Siberia?”

Tony groans internally, still hates to hear that name. To remember that moment. He’s actually surprised that Peter knows, but he doesn’t ask, just goes on, “Yeah, that. I don’t know how much Rhodey’s told you but after the… clash between Spandex and I… we sort of parted ways. And by that I mean literally. They had their jet to go to and I…” he gulps, shuddering, “I had nothing.”

He can feel the kid’s heart rate going up, which in turn causes his own to accelerate without consent. Peter remains respectfully silent, however, something that Tony appreciates,

He gives a dry chuckle, “It’s not like I travelled to Siberia on foot– I came with the suit.” He inhales, “The suit, that was bits and pieces after the fight. Comms were off, Friday was off, and I had nothing but a bloody face and a vibranium shield to get me off a below freezing point land, basically in the middle of nowhere…” He trails.

“So… what did you do?” Peter’s voice shakes, fearful.

“I waited… Can’t tell you for who or what but there was nothing else I could do…” He stares at the darkness, voice reduced into a somber whisper, “Building was in shambles, so I couldn’t really go back in… into the warmth. So I stayed where I was. With the wind hitting my face, and no heater. Nobody.” He wets his lips, debating on whether to tell the next part or not, “I was pretty sure I was dead.” He starts before he can stop himself, feeling Peter’s breath hitch, “So I had this brilliant idea to just… end it faster. And I committed. Limped outside, and just laid back... on the snow… and waited…”

He could feel silent tears land on his body, and Tony presses his lips into a thin line to retract his own tears, yet doesn’t stop talking. He can’t, “I… really have no idea where my mind was at back then, because, heh, trust me, freezing is not the best way to go. But I guess it didn’t matter back then. By the time I found out that Friday’s changed the helicopter’s course to my location right before it went offline, I was minutes away from being a modified version of the Capsicle myself. No exaggeration.” He smiles at his light jokes -because he doesn’t have anything else to smile at-, and even then a stray tear escapes his eye, “Pepper never knew. Neither did Rhodey. They think the third-degree frostbites were a side-effect from fighting outside in the snow, and I’d like to keep it that way.” He feels more tears wet his shirt, and suddenly he remembers that Peter’s there, “I… Sorry I dumped this all on you…”

“‘S… ‘s fine, Tony…” Peter says hoarsely, turning to rest his forehead onto his chest, and Tony doesn’t miss the use of his first name, “I just wish you had a little more faith… in being saved. It makes me angry.” He exhales, “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark…”

“Hey, don’t be,” Tony says before he really dwells on it, “never be. I was just being an idiot. From the very beginning, mind you. How could I not suspect that something like this would happen-”

“Because you trusted Cap.” Peter says strongly, “He was your friend, and friends never beat you to death or- or leave you stranded in who knows where.” Tony clenches his jaw, because he isn’t wrong. It’s a surprise that Peter even understands– a tad bit concerning as well. “I wish I could’ve been there…”

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t.” Tony doesn’t miss a beat, “We could’ve won, yes, crazy abilities an’ all, but we could’ve also lost; and I don’t know what I would’ve done after-” He stops, because Peter suddenly goes insanely rigid, almost to a painful degree. The kid’s breathing is hitched, slowed, and his head cranes up, looking at a certain angle in alarm.

“What is it?” Tony says sternly.

“I hear something.” He whispers, but it doesn’t sound good.

It doesn’t hurt to ask, “Is it Rhodey?”

“No- No, not War Machine…” He focuses, “It’s… far, but it’s beeping, I-I can tell-” His eyes go crazy wide, “Oh shit.”

“Kid?”

“It’s another bomb.” Peter exhales.

“What?!” Tony can’t help but exclaim, “How did-”

“I-I don’t know! We need to do something- Shit, my senses are hay wiring…” Peter shuts his eyes painfully, panting evenly, as if there's a countdown in his mind. Tony’s free arm wraps around the kid's back, bracing himself. Peter grips at the back of his shirt in a lot more force than necessary.

“Peter,” Tony forces him to look him in the eye, “no need to be scared. We’re gonna be just fi-”

A loud BOOM goes out and drowns out his words before he could continue, a flash of light the last thing Tony sees before he’s knocked unconscious.

Chapter Text

“Peter,” Tony forces Peter to look him in the eye, “no need to be scared. We’re gonna be just fi-”

A loud BOOM drowns out Mr. Stark’s words before he could continue, flames giving them too much lighting after the eternal darkness they’ve been used to. Peter tries to cover most of his mentor’s body with his own, writhing because dammit he can’t move and they can get caught up in the flames if they don’t do something-

Apparently, moving deems itself a bad idea because once Peter was able to get a slight shift out of the rubble, the bomb goes again and his time, Peter feels it. The debris that wasn’t the necessary weight to suffocate them to death had become just that, as the pressure that was once felt at ten tons has now become a thousand times worse, and the teenager can’t help but scream.

Ican’tbreatheIcan’tbreatheIcan’tbreathe-

Peter, in panic, tries to get a glimpse at his mentor but stops once the rubble shifts again, the weight unbearable. Something digs at his back and he’s sure it’s going to break if the debris keep piling up at that rate. He has to- he has to do something!

He isn’t letting Mr. Stark die today.

A squeeze to his shoulder snaps his attention to the older man, whom Peter can’t see his face. The teenager groans at the sight of how awkwardly Tony’s head’s dangling, with nothing to support it like there has been. The plank of wood Tony’s head was resting on -and probably didn’t know existed- is gone. Peter panics as he can barely feel the man’s heartbeats against his chest, so he calls,

“Mr. S-S-t…” He can’t speak. Can barely breathe. Coughing hurts him and possibly hurts his mentor, too. He tries to gasp, tries to call, “T-Ton- Mist-” A rough groan escapes him, “C-Come o-on…”

He needs to see the man’s face. He needs to hear his voice. Any type of reassurance.

“Ple- Ple’s…” He wheezes, then remembers that both of his hands are free. Slowly he takes one out from under Tony and supports a hand under his head, ignoring his screaming back and possibly broken ribs, to lift it. His heart drops.

Tony’s eyes are closed.

“No, no, n-n-” He almost lets go of him, “D-Don’, u-up, W-W-Wake u-up,” He suppresses a scream in pain, “T-Ton… T-T-Tony ple’s-”

Don’t die.

Don’t die.

Don’t die.

“N-Not y-you-” He sobs, shifting as much as possible to rest his forehead onto his mentor’s, “‘m S-Sorr-” He effectively yelps, the harsh sobbing making the unstable debris move. His body can’t stop trembling, it hurts.

The man suddenly spasms, then his whole body writhes with a wet, bloody, cough and in a flash his eyes are wide open with a gasp. Peter smiles ever so slightly, still trying to support Tony’s head, but the smile falls quickly once Tony begins to move, unknowingly making things worse,

“Kid-” Tony calls like he doesn’t see him, eyes darting everywhere. The hand on Peter’s shoulder falls as the man attempts to push himself into a sitting position-

“W-Wait!” Peter’s surprised he could get any words out, “‘S no- s-safe-! M-M-Mr. S-Stark- AGH!” He screams before he could stop himself, feeling the piece of rod stuck inside his leg getting pushed in after the sudden movements, which makes him let go of his mentor’s head. That seems to finally snap Tony back,

“K-Kid-” He wheezes, now out of sight. Peter watches with blurry eyes as Tony tries to lift his head but all he accomplishes are a few sways. The gasps Mr. Stark’s emitting are concerning to say the least, his chest rising and falling against Peter’s way too quickly, and something clicks in Peter’s mind,

Tony can’t breathe in that position.

“Shi-” Peter strains, hurriedly and almost carelessly lifting Tony’s head again, seeing as his eyes flutter and roll dangerously once he’s in sight. His temple is supporting a new bleeding cut, said blood shining, covering more than the half of Tony’s face. The older man blinks a few times to the flame lights, breathing seeming a bit better, and finally meets Peter’s own irises,

“P-Pete… wha…” Tony almost gives out again, and Peter’s shaking hands can barely hold it together. He needs to think fast. The digging of the rubble on his back is too much to bear, the amount of fresh blood oozing out of his leg is disconcerting at best. It’s either they stay until they suffocate to death, or move and risk getting more rubble on top of the two of them. Peter can’t have it in him to choose.

“Rhodey…” Tony mutters wearily, and Peter shakes his head with a cough,

“I-I can’t- I can’t h-hear him…” He strains, knowing that this is probably a fly-by-night declaration considering that he can’t hear anything other than shifting rubble for God’s sake, but even then, they can’t just hang onto false hope that Rhodey might be here. Peter’s spiraling thoughts don’t give him a chance to reconsider his next words before he blurts them out, “I-I need to g-get you out, M-Mr. Stark…”

“Wha-?” Tony takes a moment to register the statement, and then his eyes suddenly widen, “Wha? Kid, Peter, no,” He whispers while shaking his head, clenching on Peter’s unoccupied hand as if to still him. Peter talks right over his sentence, shaking his head as well,

“I-I have to try. I h-have t-to-”

“I didn’t ask you t-to.” Tony’s voice is barely a whisper, but strong, strict, “Don’t- Don’t do anything stupid…”

“It’s a-a chance I’m w-willing to take, Mr. S-Stark.” Peter doesn’t talk further as he gently lets go of Tony’s head to brace both of his hands on the ground and push, but Tony stops him with the firmest squeeze on his arm,

“I get out, and then what, huh?!” Tony lifts his head to send a sharp glare, “Think this through!”

Peter frowns, “I already have.”

Drowning out the rest of his mentor’s protests, Peter readies himself as he breathes in and out audibly in resolution and pushes. He screams in both pain and determination, feeling as the ton of rubble on top of him starts shifting ever so slightly. He’s sure to prevent touching his mentor at all, as to not hurt him, but it doesn’t help since he doesn’t have a great grip with his hands that is enough to lift him, unlike last time. Still, he tries, his sweat staining his mentor’s shirt and his breathing rapid and insanely shallow, his shrieks louder than whatever Tony’s trying to say as of now. Finally, he senses progress, as his chest parts away mere inches from Tony’s. He laughs breathlessly, suddenly finding it in himself to push further, even with his terribly barely-holding shaking arms and raw throat, even with the amount of rubble doubled from last time and a rod sticking into his flesh, even with the too-weak grip on the ground and not enough pressure– he won’t back down now, he can’t back down now. It isn’t an option because he isn’t allowing it to be. Because he isn’t losing anyone today. Especially not him. Not Tony. Not his mentor.

Not another father figure.

God, please, no.

He feels lightheaded from the screaming, his vision is starting to blur, everything hurts, but he keeps going. He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing, till the end of time, till he is almost on his knees, till his mentor is almost free, and then he hears it– the yells. The yells, that aren’t coming out of him– far from it-

“-KID, JUST STOP! JUST- DAMMIT! STOP IT, PETER!!” It’s the loudest he’s ever heard his mentor, but he ignores him because he’s close, he’s so close, just a little further, just a little more, he can make it, he will make it,

He feels like passing out-

Tears fall without him noticing it, his body’s vibrating to a terrifying degree, but finally, finally, he’s fully on his knees, panting, still screaming, but he can’t miss the chance,

“GO, GO, GO!!”

“I CAN’T LEAVE Y-”

“JUST GO!!” He cries, unable to breathe, unable to think, doubtfully holding on for much longer. Tony takes the hint, sliding from underneath him, albeit a little slow due to his broken legs. Peter groans, arm suddenly getting bent against his will, begging for mercy, but he can’t take that chance until Mr. Stark is fully free, away and safe, so he responds with even more torture, and a shriek that will surely drain the life out of him but can’t help it.

He smiles, laughs even, as he feels the last brush against his body. Tony’s out. He’s free. He saved him. Peter’s saved him. Nobody’s dying today. No one else is dying under his watch. Not again, not ever, not in a long time– Thank you, thank you,

God, thank you!

“PETER!!” Tony calls from the void space, and Peter breathlessly jerks his head up with a toothy smile. Mr. Stark looks scared– heck, terrified, and the boy can’t do anything about it. He’s slipping away, mere seconds from either passing out temporarily, or for good. But Peter doesn’t mind. Mr. Stark’s out, Mr. Stark’s free, and that’s enough for Peter.

It’s more than enough…

“PETER, WHAT NOW?! WHAT NOW?!” Tony cries, reaching a hand for him. It’s a surprise Peter’s still conscious at all, his mind too numb to process anything, but not too numb to process one last thing,

“I-I can h-hear Rhodey…” He whispers happily, just happy…

“No… NO!!” Tony shakes his head for the umpteenth time.

Peter sends a laugh that’s clear in the flames’ lights before he gives out, with the debris giving out with him…

“PETEEEEER…!!!”

He’s sure he’s done well.