Chapter Text
Burning.
They evacuated the scene, Spider-Man laying limp in Iron Man's strong, metal grip. The smoke faded away the further they ran. The screams dead in the air. The shouts from the masked form in Tony's arms echoing in all of their heads.
The air felt like it was still on fire and the light started to fade away, sirens growing nearer and streets seemingly getting smaller and smaller. As the ascent upwards and as far away from the wreck as possible began, the glowing fires of death seemed to crackle into just embers as the sky swallowed them up. But they knew it wasn't like that.
It kept burning.
-----
The cold metal around his wrists was the first thing he felt.
Before he could open his eyes, he felt a surge of instinctual fear ripple through him and he felt like he was on fire. He gasped, pulling against the metal that strapped him down to the bed. Pain. Fear. Panic.
He shifted, letting his eyelids fall open and adjust to the bright white light spiralling into the room from all angles. It was a small room. A small white room, where he was strapped to a bed and-
Peter Parker gasped, a strangled shout escaping his throat. Oh God. He'd got himself caught. The one thing he said he'd never do to himself. Never. Rule number 1.
But it didn't matter- everything hurt like lava was swallowing him up. His skin seared and screamed, and every second that passed seemed to fill his bloodstream with magma. His breathing was laboured. He began to hyperventilate, as suddenly a figure came out of nowhere and began to hold his shoulder. Harsh, strong hands pushing down, making him want to rip them away with every instinct. But he couldn't. Finally, and altogether, everything started to focus. His vision cleared.
"-hey, please. I'm going to need you to try and calm down, if your breathing becomes a problem I'm going to need to take off your mask, despite whatever Nat says-"
His mask.
"Oh God, my- my mask-" Peter suddenly let the words tumble from his lips in loud cry, sobbing tearlessly as his heart rate failed to decrease. What the fuck was happening to him? What happened...?
"Please, look at me. Just look. you're safe, you're in a private medical facility, you're being taken care of, your mask is still on-"
"Don't- you dare take it off," he demanded, gasping breathlessly in between words, struggling to form coherent sentences. Aunt May.
What happened to May-
"I won't."
The man's face was soft. He wore an expression of deep concentration and worry, though he had kind eyes and a non threatening look about him, complete with a mop of messy black hair. His voice was soft too, and deep. Peter's heart beat began to slow as he took deeper breathes.
"Okay, it's fine to panic. Oh God, we didn't expect this... Nat? Tony?- get in here."p>
There was a clutter and footsteps and a door opening, but Peter couldn't fully register what was what. He needed to go. He couldn't be there, with his mask on or not. It'd soon be taken off, then he'd be over. No Spider-Man. No Peter Parker- He was nothing anyway. Aunt May. No- no May, May...
"I'm not- panicking," He insisted. The man injected him suddenly with a clear liquid through his suit and he felt the pinch in the crook of his elbow, not hurting half as much as what he felt on the inside. The sensation began to seep through him, and the burning feeling began to fade away so much quicker than he could have imagined.
His breathes slowed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. His head in a whirl. His eyes on the man, looking down at him apprehensively, then the opening door behind him.
Multiple people burst into the room, rushing over to the bed he lay on, sending yet another rush of fear through him.
"Bruce, out. our turn now he's awake- we gotta talk."
They all gathered around the bed, looking down at him as if scared he might escape. He would. If he could.
The short, stocky, bearded man pulled up a chair first as everyone else gathered doubtfully at the end of the bed. Brown eyes stared into his own, the lines etched onto his middle aged face seemed to create patterns, his determined glare...
"Tony Stark?"
He rolled his eyes.
He barely said the name, it left his mouth alongside and exhale without thought. Tony Stark. Oh God. No, this isn't good, he can't be here. he can't.
Tony swung himself around on the chair to face the huddle of silent people behind him. Steve Rodgers. Bruce Banner. Natasha Romanoff-
"I'm gonna need some quiet, you got that? All I know, all we know about this guy is that he's an amateur, based in Queens and most likely around 20-21. That's all we got. If anyone tries to interrupt while I'm conducting serious enquires then you can piss off, got that?"
Steve faltered. He didn't trust Tony. None of them did. He bit his lip. Natasha sighed deeply, so did Bruce- of course that's Bruce. The Hulk. This was insane. Way too insane.
Peter seemed to have forgotten to breathe. He panted, staring back into the somehow warm eyes of the man he used to look up to, and grimaced. He felt like his eyes were searing into his skull.
"What's your name?"
He spoke slowly, threateningly, as if Peter had done something wrong. Mayeb he had.
"Tony."
He turned towards Natasha, who was stood behind him, a hand on the chair and a sparkle of worry in her eyes.
"Don't do this, Nat. shut up."
"No," she demanded firmly. "I heard him. I don't care if he's over 20, that's still so young Tony- I heard him scream and I can't- I- don't do this-"
"She's right. Don't make the guy take the mask off. Not until he starts to get plain uncooperative at least," Steve almost growled at Tony, as if warning him.
Tony takes a deep breath before swinging back round to face him.
"Name."
"No. I'm not telling you."
He sounded about as brave as a mouse. The words came out high and breathy- they came out as Peter Parker's words- not Spider-Man's. He was already failing. He was letting this break him down.
Brave, Peter. Be brave.
Tony looked tired. Bags under his eyes were heavy and he stared at Peter as if it was costing him a lot of sleep. But he was still intimidating. Older. Bigger. Wiser. Stronger.
Natasha's eyes widened, and Steve suddenly looked very uncomfortable. He glanced around nervously.
"You're young."
He swallowed.
"Nice observation," Peter replied to Steve, his mouth dry.
"No, this is crazy," The red head suddenly announced, gripping Tony's shoulder in warning with a shake in her voice. "He hasn't even gone through puberty yet, this kid isn't 20-"
"Nat, please-"
"Listen to his voice, Tony!" Steve shouted, the words ringing in his ears.
"Shit. Don't shout. Please don't shout," Peter found himself half gasping, focusing on the ache in the front of his head and the dull pain that he felt still skimming the top of his skin.
They must have noticed Peter's slightly erratic jerks from the odd sears of pain and his irregular breathing, and this mixed with the conspiracy that he may be younger than they thought created an intense atmosphere.
Boldly, Steve stepped forward. He rested a heavy hand on the duvet, staring into Tony's eyes with his stony, firey ones.
"This kid got burnt in a fire. He's probably in a hell load of pain and if he really is Spider-Man then he doesn't need anything else to deal with. Let him keep his name for now. His mask on."
Tony grunted in mock amusement.
"So," Tony addressed Steve heatedly, "you want to just piss around and waste some time until he decides to tell us things? Cap, I swear to god-"
"No, Tony," Nat suddenly shouted. Tony flinched. "I'm not agreeing with this until we find out how old he is. That's the bottom line. I heard him screaming. At the fire." Her face paled. "You did too. I know you did."
The image was all too real in his head. It all came rushing back. The fire. The shouting and the screaming. The heat- Aunt May.
It felt as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room, and Peter's body began to shake violently as all air left his lungs. Fire. Smoke. Light. May.
All heads snapped towards him.
"Let me go," he rasped, gasping and thrashing against the straps that held him tight to the bed. "Please. Please let me go- M- May- shit, please, I shouldn't be here, I- I-" his voice began to falter as his breathing became more erratic.
"Take it off-"
"No, he just needs to calm down, he can breathe fine-" He heard Bruce's voice cut through the thick air, loud and panicked and all of a sudden he felt the cold presence of plastic at his neck.
"Do it-"
"Please, just WAIT, I can talk-"
"LET ME OUT. STOP-"
"Bruce, NOW. "
The plastic was tilted so there was a sharp sting in the side of his neck, and the sensation of drowsiness took over Peter and he went suddenly limp.
The terrified and confused faces that stared down at him faded away, until he saw black.