Chapter Text
Tony wasn’t sure whether to be worried or not when he realized that over ten minutes had passed and Peter was still inside. On one hand, Peter often had the attention span of a bumble bee and could have easily gotten distracted by something else in the store. Or perhaps he was just taking his time picking out a pair of earbuds he liked, which was fine. On the other hand, Tony knew him well enough to know that he would probably sooner floss with barbed wire than risk being an inconvenience.
Either way, when a glance at the clock showed 10:23pm, he immediately knew he needed to hang up with Pepper and go get him. That was thirteen minutes he’d been inside, and that was too long.
He heard the soft ding upon entering the store and half expected Peter to instantly pop out of one of the aisles with wide eyes and a million apologies.
“Hey kiddo, what’s the hold up?” He made sure to add a hint of good-natured annoyance to his tone, partly to tease the kid and partly to mask the worry that was hovering around the outskirts of his thoughts.
The store wasn’t so big that his voice wouldn’t be heard throughout the lobby, but it was certainly big enough that he didn’t want to go searching for him aisle by aisle like a lost toddler.
His only response, however, was the God-awful pop music coming from the ceiling and the faint buzz of fluorescent lighting. He stuffed his hands into his pants’ pockets and strode deeper into the store, peeking down a few aisles as he went.
“Hello?” He called again.
He frowned when he saw the empty checkout counter, but then a man with dark brown pulled-back hair stepped into view.
“Hi, I’m sorry but we just closed,” the man said with a friendly yet apologetic smile. “I was just on my way to lock the door.”
“That’s fine, I’m just here to wrangle up the kid who came in a little while ago.” Tony’s gaze darted restlessly around the store, his unease growing with each second that ticked by and Peter failed to appear. He had to have heard Tony’s voice by now.
“I’m sorry, no one has come in here in at least a half hour.”
Tony spun around to meet the man’s eyes, narrowing his own. “I watched him walk in the door.”
He received an irritatingly casual shrug in return. “Perhaps he left again when you weren’t looking? We do also have a rear entrance, he might have gone out that way.”
Tony slowly drew closer, cocking his head to one side and holding the man’s gaze. “No. He didn’t. He’s in here.”
The fake smile faltered slightly, but then the man crossed his arms. “I assure you there is no one else here. And I do need to lock the door, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Tony’s eyes flitted critically over the man’s clothing - dark jeans, nondescript gray shirt... odd for an employee. He opened his mouth to voice his suspicions, but then his eyes landed on a small package laying on the floor in front of the check out counter and all other thoughts fled his mind.
His fingers began to go cold as he slowly bent down to pick up the red and gold Ironman-themed earbuds. The cheap plastic crinkled a little bit in his hand and he placed it carefully on the counter before putting his hands flat on either side of it.
“Let’s try this again.” He ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned forward to be sure the dick on the other side of the counter was paying attention. “Where. Is he.”
The man’s eyes hardened for a few seconds but then the facade dropped and he heaved a dramatic sigh. “God, the little guy didn’t know to take a hint and leave when he should have either.”
Heat flushed over Tony’s skin at the confirmation but before he could move, the man pulled a gun from behind him. Tony tensed, but it seemed he was content to just hold it loosely by his side and smirk.
“What did you do with him?” Tony's hands curled into fists on the countertop.
“He’s in the back.” The man tilted his head to the side in thought and was silent for a few more seconds before continuing. “Eh. You can come back too. I was thinking of just shooting you here but I don’t feel like dealing with a second body. We’re already going away for murder if we get caught as it is, might as well try and keep the body count down.”
Tony’s heartbeat stuttered at the man’s words but he let out a slow breath and forced himself to keep his cool as the man moved into the side room. The second he was out of view, Tony pressed the side button on his watch three times, sending an alert to Happy that they were in trouble and needed immediate backup. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t carry his Ironman armor with him wherever he went. He was wearing his gauntlet watch, however, which was much better than nothing. It didn’t have a whole lot of tricks or offensive power, but it had a flash beam and an ultrasonic pulse, both good for disabling a person.
It occurred to him, however, that unless he was extremely careful with his aim he might do more harm than good. Peter was so overly sensitive to light and sound that it would hurt him twice as much as it would their enemy if he was too close by.
Well, it was bulletproof, so there was that.
When the dick opened the side door, the first thing Tony noticed was that the gun was now trained directly at his head.
“Slowly,” the man warned before waving him in.
There were speckles of blood on the ugly linoleum floor. A blasted open safe. Another smear of darkened blood leading to a dead body, face horrifically beaten in.
But it wasn’t the dead body that made his blood run cold, it was Peter. The boy was tied so tight it had to hurt, tape over his mouth and bruises blossoming across his face. Paths of blood ran from his nose, his cheek, and the corner of his eyebrow. His hair was messy like there had been too many fingers in it and his eyes were red-rimmed and watery, looking at Tony with a mixture of worry and relief.
The realization that he had spent thirteen minutes chatting with Pepper and picking at his fingernails in the car all the while Peter was being beaten and mistreated left him feeling utterly sick.
Then some bald asshole with fresh blood on his knuckles was there shoving Peter to the ground and moving to stand over him.
“Hey!” Tony barked, lurching forward as fury momentarily blinded him to all else. He had to stop short, however, when the dark-haired prick reasserted his presence by stepping in front and cocking the pistol that was still aimed at his head.
Baldie leaned down and grabbed onto the layers of duct tape wrapped over Peter’s chest, lifted his torso off the ground, and then slugged him hard in the face. Tony flinched as new flecks of blood sprayed over the floor.
“You said you came here alone, you little shit!” The man growled, face flushed red.
Peter lifted his head just in time to be struck again, this time squeezing his eyes closed and letting out a pained huff through his bloody nose.
“Stop, asshole!” Tony yelled.
“Hey, buddy. Sit down.” The dick with the gun gestured to a plastic chair as though he and Tony were the only two people in the room.
The bald man sent his fist flying into Peter’s face again, and then again. The boy’s legs began to pull and scissor at each other, his body reflexively trying to break free.
“I’m not doing shit until Baldie lays off!”
To his surprise, the man seemed to be in agreement. Without taking his eyes off Tony, he directed his voice over his shoulder. “Jason, put the little guy down. We need to move this along.”
Baldie dropped Peter to the floor, but then sent a heavy, vicious kick into the kid’s unprotected side. Tony clenched his fists, anger and worry battling for dominance in his mind as Peter grunted loudly in pain and curled onto his side. A second hard kick landed directly under his sternum and must have knocked his breath out of him because his grunt was cut off and he opened his eyes wide in panic, chest pulling to bring in air.
“Lay off!” Tony shouted when Baldie kicked him yet again right in the same spot and Peter jerked, pulling his knees up to his chest.
“Jason!” the dark-haired man said simultaneously. “I need your gun on this guy so I can tie him down, leave the kid! And you, buddy, sit down in the chair, I’m not gonna say it again.”
Before Tony could move, a new voice entered the conversation - a blond man standing in the doorway on the other side of the room.
“Oh come on, man. Seriously? Every time I come back here something stupid is happening.” Then his roving eyes landed on Tony and immediately all the color drained from his face. “Ooh no. Nope. Nope. I’m out.” His hands went up and he took a step backward.
“What?” The dark-haired dick glanced at him in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?”
“That’s Tony Stark, man, are you stupid?!”
“Who the fuck cares?”
“Are you stupid?! I care!” The blond’s eyes dropped to Peter, bloodied and bruised, struggling to drag in air through his bloody nose. “Oh, cool, Jason, you gonna beat another person to death? I didn’t come here so you can indulge your violence kink. I barely wanted to do this in the first place, this was supposed to be a simple job. I’m out.”
“Fuck you, you’re not out,” Jason snapped, finally turning his back on Peter. Tony risked a quick glance down at him and felt a pang through his heart when their eyes met. The kid was in rough shape. He was quietly pulling at his arms and trying to separate his ankles. There was clear pain and distress in his gaze but he somehow still looked at Tony as though he was more worried for him than he was for himself.
“I’m not messing with Tony Stark,” the blond insisted. His eyes darted about the room. “I’m serious, man, there are probably invisible drones in here with us.”
Lesson one on why reputation is important.
“I’d listen to him,” Tony interjected, then shrugged when the three men turned to look at him. “He’s right, you are stupid.”
Jason’s nostrils flared, face flushing a deep red again. Tony could see Peter in his peripheral vision staring up at him with wide, shocked eyes but forced himself not to look down again. He wanted these men to forget that the boy was even there. Instead, he crossed his arms, casual and slow.
“You’re trying to rob a store with the front door wide open? You let two people just wander in on this amateur excuse for a heist. And it’s still open, by the way. Thank you for that, my security detail will just let themselves in when they get here in a couple minutes.”
Of course, it would be a whole lot longer than a couple minutes for Happy or the police to get there.
The dark haired man took a deep breath through his nose but then just smiled. “Liam, go lock the door,” he said with forced civility.
The blond hesitated, looking between the dark haired man and Tony. Tony held his gaze, hoping to intimidate him into backing down. He wanted one of the other two clearly more violent men to leave the room, but unfortunately Liam opted to obey. He kept his eyes on Tony on his way out, staying as far away from him as he possibly could.
The room’s attention turned back to Tony and his mind raced through his options. He had very limited time if he wanted to make a move while they were down a man.
“Barrett.” Baldie tossed a roll of duct tape to the dark-haired man, who caught it with one hand while keeping his gun steadily on Tony with the other.
“You have five seconds to sit,” he said coldly.
No matter what, he couldn’t let himself be tied down. He needed to activate his watch gauntlet, but it took several seconds to fully unfold and as long as this man’s attention was on him, he couldn’t -
“-or Jason will shoot the little guy.”
Tony’s stomach dropped as Baldie pulled a pistol from his waistband. He forced Peter onto his back with a kick, planted his boot on the boy’s chest, and leveled the gun at his forehead. Peter gave an annoyed grunt at the forced movement and then glared up at the man.
“Which would be a shame, because he’s adorable,” Barrett continued, voice softening slightly. “He thought that dead guy was still alive and tried to get me to help him.”
Tony couldn’t help but feel a rush of fondness for his pure-hearted mentee.
“But a bullet’s gonna go through his cute little face if you don’t sit down in five... four...”
Peter’s eyes flicked rapidly between Tony and Barrett.
“Three... two...”
Tony sat and slowly moved his hands behind him to give the illusion of cooperation. Then as Barrett smirked and tucked his gun away, Tony began to activate his watch behind his back, feeling the hard metal unfold to encompass his hand. He looked to Peter, whose eyes were still moving, and realized he was trying to send him a message. When he saw he had Tony’s attention, his gaze turned from Tony and Barrett to himself and Baldie. The duct tape on Peter’s ankles looked stretched, on the verge of snapping.
The idea of letting this fifteen year old who was tied up and beaten take on a man who had a gun to his head was absurd and went against all of Tony’s better judgement. But he had to remind himself that he truly wasn’t an average fifteen year old. He fought crime almost daily and could catch buses with his bare hands. He had reflexes faster than most people Tony knew, and Tony knew a fair amount of superheroes.
It would only have to be for a few seconds, hopefully.
He could hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he turned his eyes back to Barrett and clenched his fist behind his back. The man pulled the duct tape from the roll and stepped towards him, self-satisfied smirk still on his lips.
The second he was within arm’s reach, Tony swung his metal fist upward in an undercut, connecting with the bottom of Barrett’s chin and snapping his head backwards. To the left of him, Peter yanked his ankles apart and sent one foot solidly between Jason’s legs, who doubled over with a shout.
Barrett stumbled backward and Tony followed, landing another hit to his jaw. He began to pull the gun from his belt but Tony was faster and punched his hand, sending the gun skittering through the doorway and into the warehouse.
He snuck a glance toward Peter, who swung a leg across himself and whacked Jason’s pistol out of his hand as well, then tangled their legs together, tripping the thief up when he went to dive for the firearm.
Tony had to turn away when Barrett swung at him. He raised an arm to block, backing up one step and then another when the man landed a solid hit into his side. His opponent’s movements were fast and feverish, but Tony was more than a match for him and landed several more punches of his own before charging up his gauntlet. As soon as he had half an opening, he put his palm against the man’s eyes and blasted the blinding flash beam. Barrett screamed and reeled backward until he hit the wall, grasping at his eyes. Tony grabbed the front of his shirt while he was still disoriented and struck him in the temple. The man started to go limp and Tony hit him again right in the same place, finally knocking him unconscious. He let the man drop to the ground and spun back to Peter, sounds of muted struggling registering in his mind as he did.
Peter’s legs were locked around Jason’s waist to keep him from moving closer to the gun, but Jason had a hand clamped around the boy’s neck, cutting off his air and likewise pinning him to the floor. Peter’s face was bright red and Tony could see reflexive tears trailing from the corners of his eyes as he twisted and tried in vain to bring his arms out from under him.
Tony charged towards them as Jason drew his other fist back and slammed it into the side of Peter’s head. The boy’s legs loosened from around his waist and Jason leaned for the pistol. Tony got there just in time and wrapped an arm around the man’s neck, wrenching him backward and finally breaking his grip on Peter’s throat. Peter immediately tried to drag air in through his nose but there must have been too much blood draining backwards and blocking his airway because he began to make wet choking noises and spasming in what no doubt needed to be coughs to clear his throat.
Before Tony could do anything to help him, Jason gave a furious growl and shoved them both violently backward, ramming Tony’s back painfully into the edge of the computer table and sending the whole thing crashing loudly to the floor. He lost his grip around the thrashing man’s neck on their way down and his heart thundered wildly in his chest as he was wrestled onto his back. But before Jason even had a chance to send a punch towards him, Tony charged and released an ultrasonic pulse directly into his face. The man howled, rearing back and clapping his hands over his ears, and Tony surged upward, immediately charging and releasing a second blast.
Two pulses at such close range was guaranteed to do some fairly serious damage to the man’s eardrums and Tony found himself struggling to resist hitting him with a third pulse as he toppled backwards. Instead, Tony shoved him down and punched him straight in the nose. There was an audible crack as the cartilage broke and almost instantly blood began to pour from his nostrils. He was clearly disoriented but was still awake and still attempting to fight back so Tony drew his fist back and struck him again, adrenaline and protective rage coursing through him. Finally, after a third hard hit, Jason stopped moving.
Tony stayed poised over him for a few seconds to make sure his eyes stayed closed, breathing heavily and feeling tingles run over his skin.
Then the sound of short, nasally gurgles behind him snapped him out of his post-fight daze and he scrambled back to Peter. He had made it onto his side but otherwise just laid there struggling to pull air in without choking on his own blood.
His glazed, reddened eyes turned frantic when he saw Tony, who quickly slid one hand behind the boy’s neck and used the other to peel the duct tape from his mouth. A huge wad of bloody cloth followed and Tony winced in sympathy as Peter gagged on it on its way out, then continued to hack and cough. He rolled the boy up onto his knees to more easily expel the blood that had caught in his lungs.
“You’re okay. You’re alright,” Tony soothed, holding him steady and rubbing his back with a shaky hand as the boy convulsed forward and blood dribbled from his mouth. He took a quick, cursory glance about the room for scissors or a knife to cut him free but saw nothing within reach and worried that the boy would faceplant if he let go of him. After a few more racking coughs Peter was able to draw in full breaths and was left hunched over, hanging his head and gasping in air.
“You’re okay, Pete, just take it easy.” He continued to rub and pat the boy’s back as he settled down, all the while keeping a wary eye on the two unconscious thieves.
No, murderers, he corrected himself darkly, gaze darting to the beaten employee who laid less than ten feet away and stared unseeing at the ceiling.
He wondered what became of the blond man. If he had truly sided with his cohorts he would have come running back at the sound of the fight. Even in the unlikely scenario that he hadn’t heard all the struggling, he was long overdue to return from locking the door.
“Other guy?” Peter rasped as though reading his thoughts, tilting his head up to meet Tony’s eyes. He looked on the verge of passing out, like every small movement was painful and exhausting.
“I’m thinking he high-tailed it out of here,” Tony answered, instinctively brushing his thumb over a path of blood that was trailing too close to the corner of Peter’s eye. He allowed himself to feel a small amount of satisfaction knowing that his intimidation technique had worked on the blond after all. “Either as soon as he left the room or as soon as he heard the screaming, probably. Fear not though, squirt, I’ll set the hounds on him and he’ll be found soon. He probably thinks I have a tracker on him already. God, I love my reputation.”
Tony’s attempts at levity seemed to go right over Peter’s head, as the boy just watched him speak with his eyebrows knit together and finally began to shake his head. “You can’t be sure, Mr. Stark, what if he’s still here? Where are the guns?” He straightened a bit under Tony’s arm and looked between Jason and Barrett. “What if these guys wake up?”
“Then I’ll punch them again.”
Peter just continued to shake his head. “You have to tie them up or something. Where are the guns?” His slowly focusing eyes moved about the room.
“Hey, it’s okay, Pete. They’re not waking up. The guns haven’t moved.”
“But, I can’t... I can’t help you.” He pulled hard at his wrists, eyes scrunching and groaning in effort. When nothing happened right away, he gave a frustrated whimper and hung his head again.
“Slow down, champ. I’ll get you out, just relax for a minute,” Tony urged, squeezing Peter’s arms and then guiding him to slump against the couch. He crossed the room, stepping carefully around the various bodies, to rifle through the desk drawers.
“You have to tie them up, Mr. Stark, please. And get the guns, and... and lock the door. No, we should leave. We should probably leave, right?”
Tony grabbed a pair of scissors and turned back, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the agitation in the boy’s voice. “Is your danger sense going off or something?”
Peter stopped analyzing the room to meet Tony’s gaze as he approached.
“No,” he replied quietly, then dropped his eyes and rested his head on the edge of a couch cushion.
“Okay, then just relax, kid,” Tony encouraged, crouching behind him to start sawing through the layers upon layers of duct tape surrounding his wrists. “It’s over now. They’re both knocked out and the other guy isn’t even here anymore.”
Peter just swallowed, and Tony saw his eyes continue to flicker around the room. Cutting through the tape was an annoying process, as there was an excessive amount of it and the scissors were small and cheap, the blades quickly getting sticky and dull from the adhesive. He was about halfway through when he noticed that Peter’s fingers were trembling. He glanced up to see him chewing on his lower lip, gaze still darting between the bodies, the guns, and the doorways.
“You sure everything’s okay?” Tony asked, continuing his work with renewed speed while keeping an eye on Peter’s face. The bruises on his skin were darkening with every minute that passed and while the blood around his cheek and eye was beginning to dry, it still trickled fresh from his nose.
Suddenly Tony felt like a fool. This kid had just spent the last half hour being beaten and held at gunpoint, completely out of control and at the mercy of murderers and Tony was telling him to relax. He had been in the business of violence and criminal activity and death for so long that he sometimes forgot that Peter was essentially still brand new to it. A baby in the superhero world. He hadn’t asked for what just happened. He hadn’t put on his suit and gone out into the night with the intention of seeking out and stopping crime. He was just a kid who didn’t feel well and wanted to be able to listen to quiet music to help him sleep.
Tony didn’t want to stop until Peter was free but he paused long enough to rub a warm hand over the boy’s back. That single comforting gesture, it seemed, was all it took for Peter’s eyes to well up and the next time he blinked, tears slipped down his cheeks. Tony felt his heart break a little when he quickly wiped his face on the edge of the cushion and went back to staring at the various parts of the room, determined to keep watch.
“It’s okay, Pete,” Tony said gently, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before continuing his work. “I’m almost done here, then I’ll take care of all that.”
Peter nodded and sniffled quietly a few times as he waited for Tony to finish. When the last of the tape was finally peeled away from his skin, he drew in a shuddering breath and curled his arms forward to rub his midsection. Tony wanted to take the time to try and comfort him but he knew he needed to get him out of the room. Away from the horrible scene, the dead body, and his tormentors.
“Sit tight for a second,” Tony said, then moved about as quickly as he possibly could, gathering the two guns and putting them on top of a high filing cabinet, then duct taping the two unconscious men in a weird inverse of what he had just spent the last few minutes doing.
When he was finished Peter was rubbing absentmindedly at his biceps and staring at the dead employee with wet, dull eyes. Tony stepped in front of him and crouched down, breaking his view. Shaken out of his daze, Peter looked at the floor between them.
“You ready to leave, kiddo?” He rested an arm on the boy’s shoulder and lightly scratched at the hair on the back of his head. “I want to get you to the Medbay, make sure your brains haven’t been scrambled too badly.”
Peter nodded, but otherwise didn’t move so Tony just kept rubbing at the back of his head and waited.
“It’s just I usually... get there. Before this part can happen,” Peter mumbled in a rough, choked off voice, and tipped his head pointedly behind Tony.
“I know,” Tony replied. He wondered if Peter had ever actually seen a dead body other than his uncle. “I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry this happened to you, and to him. You didn’t deserve it and I’m guessing he didn’t either.”
“He probably had a family, Mr. Stark. They don’t know he’s dead yet.”
Tony saw the tears coming and briefly panicked, but before he could get into his own head he pulled Peter into a hug, turning just enough to be sure Peter wouldn’t be able to see the employee.
There was no uncontrollable wailing or stream of wetness into his shoulder. Just the quiet shaking and sniffling of a tender-hearted kid who, despite what he had just been through, was still trying to appear strong while he mourned someone he didn’t even know.
Tony closed his eyes and held him close, running a hand over his back and allowing himself a moment to marvel at the idea that someone like Peter Parker even existed in a world so driven by corruption. And then appreciate how much worse this evening could have ended.
“I’m so sorry, Peter. I really am. I should have checked on you so much sooner. I should have known something was wrong.”
“Are you kidding?” Peter somehow managed a wet chuckle. His hands clutched Tony’s back, treasuring the contact. “You totally saved me, Mr. Stark! I was so relieved when you came in. I knew you would know what to do. I was just... I was just useless. I couldn’t even do anything.”
“Hey. Self-hate is my thing, not yours.”
“I’m supposed to be learning from you, though, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, my good qualities. Which should take you plenty of time, because there are a lot of them.”
“That doesn’t sound like self hate.”
“Okay, we’re leaving.” Tony squeezed him a little tighter and then hefted them both to their feet with a dramatic groan. Peter giggled, sending warm satisfaction blooming through Tony’s chest.
The transition from that claustrophobic, blood-splattered, fluorescent-lit back room into the fresh night air of the open parking lot was borderline cathartic. Peter apparently felt similarly because he heaved a deep sigh and relaxed into Tony’s side.
At the car, Tony guided Peter into the back seat so he could lay down but paused before closing the door.
“Listen, kid. I’m going to need something in return for saving your hide tonight.”
Peter stared up at him uncertainly.
“I’m gonna need you to accept some good quality earbuds from me.”
Crinkles appeared at the corner of Peter’s bruised eyes as a smile spread over his face.
“You may not like them. The ones I have in mind are Ironman colors. But I don’t think it’s too much for me to ask in return. What do you say?”
Peter’s eyes positively twinkled in wonder.
“How did you- I mean. Wow, yeah. No, I would really like ones like that!”
Tony smiled and looked up at the sound of police cruisers finally pulling into the parking lot.
Hours later, after Peter had been checked out and was safely and comfortably asleep, Tony received a text from Happy.
Hey boss. Cops picked up the third guy. Said he’s been very adamantly suggesting that you be made aware so that you can call off any “invisible murder drones” that you might have sent after him. I'll leave that decision up to you.