Chapter Text
Peter could only see the reflection of the arc reactor from Pepper’s eyes, it wasn’t something one could mistake for another thing. It had a peculiar glow, a blue so unique it was listed in the color index with the name ‘Iron Man Blue’. The color danced within Pepper’s light colored irises, accentuating the shock etched onto her face.
For an instant, Peter could only stand still. He didn’t know what to do even if he moved.
The scene before him was so bizarre that his brain refused to process it for a moment. Mr.Stark, pushing Pepper? Activating his arc reactor against her? And all of that happening in their own home where Morgan was probably sleeping somewhere close?
Peter’s eyes drifted upwards almost instinctively, eyes locking onto the infinity symbol on the back of the man’s neck. It looked...weird. Taking Peter out of the event unfolding right in front of him. The mark looked...wrong? It seemed like it was oozing some black stuff directly into Mr.Stark’s veins, making his neck looking like it was cracked with how the veins were deep black.
Without meaning to, Peter extended his hand towards the mark and touched it. Resulting in the man quickly turning around to look at him, behind him Pepper gasped with horror.
“What is going on..?” she asked, her face contorted with concern and horror.
Peter gulped.
“Mr.Stark, the mark on your neck...is it always like that?” he asked.
“Like what?” the man questioned, his arc reactor slowly deactivating.
“No...” Pepper answered instead of him.
She fished her phone out of her pocket and took a picture of Mr.Stark’s neck, turning the screen to him. It looked even worse on camera.
“Mr.Stark, I think you should let Bruce take a look at it.”
His confused stare found him, he said nothing for a second almost as if he was weighing the options in his head. Then he sighed.
“Fine. But when I return I want you to be finished with your breakfast. And don’t forget about the supplements.”
Peter only nodded his head.
The man stepped towards the elevator and pressed the button. After getting in, he held the door open with his hand, looking straight at Peter as if Pepper wasn’t even there.
“I know you probably know this by now, but don’t try leaving. FRIDAY’s watching anyway.”
The doors closed, the thrum of the elevator reached Peter’s ear in the silence left by the man.
Pepper, who Peter didn’t dare to look, seemed hypnotized by the whole event. She then, without looking away from where her husband just left, asked Peter a silent question.
“Peter, do you want to leave?”
He shook his head.
“You heard what he said.”
Pepper grabbed his shoulders and turned Peter towards herself, her eyes were slightly wide with a panicked expression.
“Yes, but he is not the only administrator logged in FRIDAY’s systems. I don’t know what’s going on but something seems to trigger him, you’re not safe.”
Peter nodded.
“I know, but...if he finds out you helped me esc--I mean leave, what happens then? I mean, just now...”
She interrupted his train of thought before it could fully form.
“I can deal with him, I’m not alone. But you...”
Her features transformed from resolved to sad in a second as she continued.
“Listen, I don’t know who you are but you have something that pushes people to care about you. You don’t deserve to be caught up in this storm. I can help you but it has to be now, before he notices something is amiss.”
He lowered his stare to the ground, the smell of Pepper’s perfume invaded his senses. Peter was not stupid, he knew something was obviously very wrong with the man. Whatever it was, it seemed to be getting only worse and Peter being there only made the process faster with how he was acting with Pepper just now.
He couldn’t let people hurt each other just for his presence to remain.
Determined, he finally lifted his head up.
“Okay.”
Pepper smiled and ushered for him to follow, she explained herself as they walked towards the main bedroom.
“Listen, if I’m gonna help you, you have to accept everything I give you. Okay? Otherwise, it would be no different from sending you back to the streets and I would die from worrying.”
Reluctantly, he agreed to receive whatever he was given.
He saw her shaking her head sideways and sighing.
“I don’t know why he claims to remember you when none of us do. I mean...I’m his wife and I would know you, right?”
She glanced at him for approval, and Peter could only nod.
“Yes...”
“He is almost overprotective of you; unlike he is with Morgan.”
Guilt stabbed at his heart at the mention of Morgan’s name, Mr.Stark’s actual child whom he didn’t even remember.
It was very rare for Peter to remain silent, especially when he knew what he had done wrong and how wrong Pepper was about her assumption.
Still, he held his tongue until they reached the main bedroom. He followed the woman into the room and towards where the huge, mirror-covered closet was. She slid the door open and revealed a safe behind the dresses, the contents were revealed after she entered the code.
She took what seemed like a credit card and a small envelope, handing them both to Peter. Her voice was low, down to a whisper. Almost as if she was afraid of FRIDAY listening in.
“Listen carefully. This card is an emergency fund; it has all the money you need to get to any location within the country borders, it’s practically untraceable. And this envelope has an address with the key, it’s something like a safe house for me. All you need to do is get yourself there and lay low until we solve this mess, you don’t need to worry about anything else. And the most important part, take a bus. No planes, they are easily tracked. Okay?”
Peter doesn’t answer at first. The words reach him, but they slide around the edges of his awareness like they’re meant for someone else. His mind is stuck somewhere between the ringing in his ears and the weight sitting low in his chest, that slow, heavy drag that makes everything feel distant. He’s staring at the card, the envelope, the floor, all of it at once and none of it registering. His thoughts keep breaking apart before they form, scattered by the rush of adrenaline that already burned through him and left this hollow, shaky aftertaste behind.
He blinks, finally, but it’s slow, unfocused, as if moving even that much takes effort. It isn’t that he doesn’t understand what he’s being told; it’s that his brain is refusing to rejoin the conversation.
Pepper grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it gently, pulling him back into the zone.
“Peter, I need you to answer.”
If it were the Peter from before the whole shit-show where he lost everyone he loved and was forgotten by the rest, he would have frantically refused, even going so far as to feel embarrassed without taking the card or the envelope.
But he wasn’t that naïve Peter anymore. This new Peter was broken and hurt.
He wouldn’t refuse the only help he could get, even if it was offered for reasons different from his own.
“O-okay.”
“Good, now let’s get to it.” She gives his shoulder one last reassuring grip and lets go.
They both makde their way to the elevator, Pepper pressed the button and almost simultaneously FRIDAY chimed in from above.
“Peter, you were instructed to remain here.”
Pepper looked above as if she was talking to a physical being and happily answered.
“Yes, but you can let him go now FRIDAY. I’ll let Tony know about it.”
The A.I. almost seemed to hesitate before giving a reply.
“Very well.”
Peter let out a sigh of relief and stepped into the elevator, Pepper pushed the button for the ground floor and stepped back into the penthouse. Giving him a one last smile, she waved her hand.
“Good luck, kid.”
The doors closed, he found himself on the ground floor in less than a minute. The exit doors were on sight, he left through them with no trouble at all. He was half expecting the security guards to stop him but it was almost laughable how easy he managed to get out.
Now, Peter was back to where he was the most familiar with.
New York, with its relaxingly loud traffic and relatively dirty air that smelled of exhaust gas and street food. It was almost soothing how familiar it felt now.
Putting his hand in his pockets he seamlessly blended into the crowd of people, navigating his way to a wayfinding sign to look for a way to get to a bus terminal.
He squinted at the sign, blinking against sunlight bouncing off the glass of the skyscrapers. The terminal wasn’t far, just a few blocks down 42nd Street, but each step felt heavier than it should. The city moved around him. The honk of horns, a tone-deaf street musician playing a sour note, someone yelling after a taxi. He noticed it all, but none of it reached him. It felt like everything was moving too fast for his eyes, and too slow for his brain.
The card burned in his pocket. Every time he touched it, he imagined a countdown ticking somewhere in his mind. Money, travel, instructions, safe house. That was all he had. Maybe that was enough. He kept repeating to himself: no planes. Buses. Detroit. Hide. Lay low.
The bus to Detroit was scheduled for noon. Peter had a few hours to wait, but he didn’t sit. Sitting meant thinking, and thinking meant feeling everything he had pushed down since leaving the penthouse. He walked past benches and people with rolling suitcases, past travelers with earbuds, until he found the newsstand. He picked up a random magazine and flipped the pages without really reading. Pictures and words moved past, meaningless.
He just needed to get away, to put distance between himself and the place where he couldn’t stay. Detroit. Safe house. Bus. He repeated it in his head like a mantra until the tight feeling in his chest loosened a little.
When it was time, he boarded the bus. The driver glanced at him, took his ticket, and that was it. He picked a window seat near the back, low profile. The city passed him by outside. Yellow cabs, crowded sidewalks, billboards...but he barely looked. He stared at the reflections in the window, focusing on himself, trying to disappear in the motion around him.
A thought crept in, quiet and unwelcome. Would Mr. Stark try to find him? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. Part of him wanted that answer. Part of him didn’t. If he was found, would it be help or something worse? He didn’t want to think too much about it, didn’t want to give the thought power. He shoved it down, letting the mantra rise again: Detroit. Bus. Safe house. Stay low.
Midway through Pennsylvania, the bus stopped at a rest area. Peter stretched without attracting attention, hood pulled over his head, eyes down. Teenagers crowded the vending machines, laughing. An older man shuffled past, newspaper tucked under his arm.
Peter stepped outside, breathing in the cool air. For a moment, he let himself feel the strange comfort of being just another face in the crowd. Then he got back on the bus, hood pulled over his head, eyes down.
The bus pulled into the terminal in Detroit as night fully settled. Peter stepped off, moving with the flow of people to cabs, rideshares, and waiting friends. He didn’t linger. The smells of oil, wet asphalt, and faint burnt rubber filled the air, but he barely noticed.
He remembered the map he had grabbed at the rest area in Pennsylvania, the free kind for travelers showing streets and landmarks. It was folded neatly in his pocket. He pulled it out now, spreading it carefully in the dim light of the terminal.
The envelope had the street name, but he needed to make sure he could get there without wandering or drawing attention. Taking a cab was out of question for obvious reasons.
“This is going to be hard...” Peter muttered to himself.
Step by step, he traced the route. Terminal exit, left at the main street, a couple of blocks past the corner store, right into the quieter neighborhood.
Finally, he reached the street listed on the envelope. A small brick row house sat tucked between two larger buildings. Street lights were dim, windows mostly shuttered. He unfolded the envelope again and confirmed the address. Match.
The door was locked. Peter took the keys Pepper had given him. One turned. Click. The door opened. He slipped inside, heart still beating fast, but relief rolled over him. The house smelled faintly of cleaning solution and old carpet.
He sank onto the couch, eyes closing for the first time since leaving the penthouse. Relief came slowly, but at least it came. He was here. Alive. Hidden. Waiting.
For the first time in hours, Peter let the tension leave his shoulders. The city outside moved on, oblivious to him tucked away in this quiet corner. The card, the envelope, the instructions...they were more than just a bunch of useless paper. They were enough. And for now, that was all he needed.
He curled up on the couch, not intending to sleep.
Though sleep claimed him anyway.
Detached from the reality, of his past, or the events that unfolded before his eyes just half a day ago.
He didn’t want to think, or ponder on meaningless possibilities.
Peter would stay here until the situation was resolved, waiting it out until Mr.Stark was back to normal and forgot all about him just like the others. Then he would go back to his old life.
His old life that was full of silence, loneliness, and the unending coldness of the streets.
But that way, his curse wouldn’t be able to taint the people he loved.
That was his only comfort for now.