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Peter woke up to the sound of a rhythmic beeping somewhere to his left.
Unfortunately, this was something he had become woefully used to over the past year or so, which meant he wasn’t unduly confused by it. Just another day at the office, really. Wasn’t really the nicest way to spend a morning, but hey, at least he healed fast.
Blinking groggily, he huffed through his nose and then took in his surroundings as he sat up-
Or at least, he would’ve done, had he not been pinned back onto the bed a moment later by unwavering metal restraints and a familiar yet foreign metal mask.
“Whoah!” He yelped, his hands flying up to protect his face and pull the hands off him, “whoah, Mr. Rhodey, what the-“
“Stay down, Peter,” the modulated voice of James Rhodes told him, his tone forceful, “if you attempt to leave the bed I will forcibly restrain you.”
He stared in bewilderment up at the usually kind man, now gripping his shoulders tight enough to bruise. Now he was fully conscious, he could sense others milling around him- SHIELD agents with their guns held between hands, safety’s all flicked off.
What the fuck had happened?
“What’s going on?” He said, mildly panicked and unable to stop himself from trying to wriggle out of the iron grip, “Mr. Rhodey, I don’t understand, I’m not- I don’t- where am I-“
He breathed sharply, feeling his head start to spin as he jerked around and looked at everyone in the strange hospital room, holding guns and staring warily. It didn’t make sense. The room looked more like a prison cell, but why? He couldn’t remember-
There was a second that passed until Rhodey lifted the face-plate suddenly, staring into his eyes. His face looked strained and distressed, but the gaze he attached to Peter was firm, analytical as ever. Peter attempted to calm himself a little, and he tried to convey his confusion up at Rhodey. He didn’t know the Colonel very well, but he knew Tony knew him, and so that made him safe. That made him trustworthy.
Rhodey watched him for a moment, and then his face seemed to soften. His hands loosened just a fraction around Peter’s shoulders.
“Can you recall the last five hours to me, Peter?” He asked slowly.
Peter blinked, casting his mind back. It just came up fuzzy, and he frowned a little, shaking his head up at the older man.
Rhodey didn’t blink or otherwise acknowledge it at all. He just kept staring. “What was the last thing you remember?”
“Rhodey, what’s happen-“
“What is the last thing you remember, Peter?” Rhodey asked again, voice becoming slightly more harried as he flexed his hands against Peter’s shoulders.
And now Peter was just plain scared. He’d never had this sort of treatment from Rhodey before- and he racked his brains, trying to think, but everything felt blurry, like there was something physically blocking him from remembering anything at all.
He pushed against it, desperate for answers, until coming up with a few hazy images. It made his head pound from the concentration, but-
Something suddenly flashed in the forefront of his mind- an image that made him jerk wildly in horror, eyes widening.
And then everything became a little clearer.
Slowly, he lifted his eyes and met with Rhodey’s. Something was sinking, fast and painful and monumentally heavy in his chest, going down and down and down, dropping into his toes, making it hard to breathe at all. He felt like he was drowning- and the look on Rhodey’s face in that moment- when both of them understood just what Peter had remembered- only confirmed everything.
“What did I do,” he muttered, starting to shake his head in disbelief, “what… Rhodey, what did I do to Tony.”
It was coming back in snapshots; unfocused but too real to misinterpret. He could see it in his mind’s eye. He could smell the blood.
And from the look on the man’s face, Rhodey could too.
“You stabbed him through the chest.”
-
“Hey Tony, I was just thinking that maybe after this mission I could-“
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard what I’m about to say yet!”
Tony turned to him, briefly pausing his diffusion of the bomb in order to shoot him what was probably an incredibly disparaging look from under the faceplate. “You think I don’t know you’re about to go and ask me if you can play around with one of those weapons in my lab? It’s not like you’ve asked me the same thing seven times before, no, I would never be able to guess that I’m about to hear exactly the same question this time, of course not-“
“I don’t see why you’re not just letting me look-“ Peter whined, ducking underneath a right hook and then webbing the guy over his shoulder quickly.
“Uhh, how about ‘cause last time you tried to mess around with alien artifacts, it basically just involved you bashing the incredibly explosive substance with a fucking hammer whilst Leeds just watched on with his face about 2 inches from the thing? Maybe?”
Peter pulled a shocked face, rearing back a little. “Ned ratted me out, what the fuck?”
Tony just sighed, the air coming out crackly through the speaker. “ I got curious and he got excited, it was bound to end in all your secrets being blown, kid, come on. Focus up on the mission, we still have a job to do-“
“Just one? Just one teeny tiny gun, which I will barely even touch, simply observe-“
“No way- you’ll end up trying to eat it or something, just accept that this is not happening and concentrate on grounding all the-“ Tony paused, turning back suddenly to the strange bomb in front of him. The whole area had long since been evacuated by that point, but Peter looked around nervously all the same. It would be unacceptable if they managed to leave a person stranded if the thing blew.
“Something’s happ-“
And that was all the warning Peter got. Tony suddenly shot up without warning- that would’ve been JARVIS detecting the danger and automatically firing up repulsors- but Peter was unable to even lift a foot before suddenly being enveloped by…
Some sort of energy wave?
It was a disk of reverberation, expanding out from the focal point somewhere inside the bomb and then rapidly travelling through the air like a sortof red-tinted sonic wave. Tony just about managed to lift away from the radius of the blast- but it slammed into Peter’s chest and threw him backward with a force that had Peter wanting to scream in pain. He felt something crack inside him; the shockwave breaking bone.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard his name.
Darkness filled his vision, and he became consumed by it. Suddenly everything felt like it was burning. He couldn’t see or hear or feel anything at all except for the fire.
There was something in his head. Something was going wr-
-
The words sat in the air like lead, and Peter stared up at him blankly. Rhodey’s throat worked as he swallowed, but he didn’t look away from Peter.
“What?” Peter eventually asked, because he had to have misheard that. He had to.
But Rhodey didn’t say anything to correct him. Just sucked in a very small breath and then squeezed on Peter’s shoulder a little. “Peter, you were-“
“No,” he said quietly. His voice was flat, and he could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. “No, I didn’t… no.”
There had to be a mistake there. It was totally impossible- they’d just been on some routine mission, and Peter was- he would never ever… the whole thing was just ridiculous. Tony was probably just playing a prank on him. He needed to go find him and then yell at him for being an idiot. That was what he needed to do.
“I have to see him,” he declared, voice surprisingly faltering considering the fact that this was just a trick, and he really didn’t need to be panicking, “I need to-“
“You can’t leave yet,” Rhodey grabbed his shoulders again, more gentle this time, and with eyes that were soft from sadness, “we still have to do checks, make sure you’re not-“
“I have to see him!” He cut in, beginning to get a little desperate as he shook off Rhodey’s hands frantically. He felt like he wasn’t even in his own body- it was as if he was seeing everything in third person.
He couldn’t believe it.
He couldn’t have.
He didn’t even remember it. Just blurs. Feelings.
The image of Tony in front of him, something stuck out of his chest.
It didn’t make sense. Peter hadn’t… he didn’t understand what had happened. Was all of this just some fucked up nightmare? It had to be. He’d just woken up, he was disorientated, not thinking straight. He needed Rhodey to explain, he needed someone to tell him that he hadn’t just killed his own mentor in cold blood-
Rhodey grabbed him before he could get off the bed, pinning him in a bear hug as he scrambled desperately. “Kid- “
“Let me see h- “
“Peter, we don’t know if you’re going to hurt people if we let you out again,” Rhodey spoke through his teeth as he struggled to keep hold of Peter, and there were about seven different weapons still trained on him and Peter was struggling and he couldn’t remember if he’d killed Tony or not-
“He’s alive,” Rhodey whispered to him as he coughed, choked, scrabbled wildly at the metal arms, “he’s alive and we’re trying to fix him, but Peter, I can’t risk you causing him more harm. Please. Just stand down.”
It couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t have done this.
Numb, Peter slumped in Rhodey’s arms, his head bowed. “What happened,” he asked quietly, “what happened, what did I do, why, what happened-“
-
He sat up slowly.
His body hurt, until it didn’t. He felt bone knitting back together, cuts closing up quickly. Whatever had hit him, it was powerful.
He felt powerful.
He couldn’t quite remember… anything, really. But he knew what he wanted to do. He knew what his purpose was. It was clear, now that he’d woken up. Pain, emotion, that was secondary. Unnecessary. Fleeting.
He wanted to kill. He had to kill. It was the only thing that made sense to him. It was what he was designed for. His duty. Nothing else mattered.
He just wanted to kill.
“-Peter, Peter holy shit, fuck, just stay still-“ a voice was coming toward him- his old memories identified the suit and the modulated voice as Tony Stark’s “-I don’t know what that was, but you’re fine, alright, you’re fine- just don’t move, I think you might have broken something.”
Peter watched as the Iron Man suit lurched in the air, flying quickly down toward him. That made things easier, at least- less distance to cover. The suit was impenetrable, and the weaponry deadly. One shot from any of it and Peter was dead.
That couldn’t happen. If he wanted to fulfill his mission, he needed Tony out of the suit.
He remained still as Tony’s hands moved gently to his shoulders and then the faceplate turned to him. Tony spoke something, but by that point, Peter had stopped bothering to listen. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He just had to kill.
With a quick lurch, the palm of his hand had snapped out grabbed Tony by the throat. In half a second he had flipped them both, landing Tony underneath him so hard the concrete cracked underneath him.
Tony, seemingly too shocked to react, just let him. He assumed that underneath the faceplate was a very confused face. Peter just looked down at him blankly, trying to wrack his brains for a way in that wouldn’t end with him getting killed.
It occurred to him a second later, however, that whatever he chose to do, he wasn’t going to die for it. Tony Stark cared for him, he remembered that fact vividly. Too much to cause him harm.
He could beat the man half-senseless before he even lifted a finger in response.
So Peter raised his hand and did just that.
-
It came back to him in fragments.
Disjointed memories and hazy feelings. Sat there in the cot whilst SHIELD poked and prodded at every part of his body, he could do nothing except think. He could smell it- and he wasn’t sure whether it was psychosomatic or not, but to him it felt very real. Tony’s blood smelt like copper and metal and it was all over his hands.
He’d thrown up everything left inside him earlier on. This time, it was just dry-heaving.
He wanted Tony. He wanted him to walk through the door and yell at everyone for not leaving him alone like he always did. Wanted a joke or a sarcastic comment. Anything.
He wasn’t even allowed to see him, though.
They were on blackout protocols- no one knew where he was except Aunt May, and not even she could see him. In case he hurt her like he’d hurt Tony.
They still didn’t know what had happened. The shockwave had burned out any cameras in the area. JARVIS had somehow ended up on Total Lockdown mode, and only Tony was able to reverse that, so they didn’t have the mission report from him either. All they knew was that their monitors had caught an energy spike, Rhodey had flown in for backup, and then he’d arrived just as Peter had-
Yeah.
He wondered how they’d realized that Peter hadn’t been aware of himself whilst they’d restrained him. Maybe his eyes had gone a funny color or something. Maybe it had shown up on Rhodey’s scan.
Whatever. It didn’t matter.
“This wasn’t your fault, Peter,” Rhodey sat by his side and breathed in a small breath. He hadn’t moved much in the hour he’d been spending with Peter. He was going to leave and sit back in whatever hospital room Tony was in in about three minutes though; he was splitting his time into hour-long slots. “You had no control over yourself. Please remember that.”
Peter said nothing. He just stared at the wall and swallowed once. The tests were going to come back soon, but he knew they’d be clean. Whatever he’d been hit with was gone now. It had just left all the horrors behind for him.
If he focused too hard, he thought he could hear the crush of cartilage.
Rhodey turned his head to Peter and looked at him. His face was set in determination, and when he settled his hand on Peter’s shoulder, it was nothing like the last time when he’d been doing it to restrain. This one was gentle and calming.
He didn’t know Rhodey that well, but he could see why Tony liked him. The man radiated… safety. It was comforting, having him there.
“Peter, whatever you got hit with messed with you enough that it made you want to try and kill Tony,” he said bluntly- and Peter shut his eyes at the words, couldn’t bear to look at anyone or anything. The Nausea returned in the pit of his stomach, but then Rhodey’s hand squeezed tighter and shook a little. Peter looked up again, feeling as a tear fell from his cheek.
“-But even when he was defenceless, and you had him exactly where you wanted him, he’s still alive,” Rhodey continued, the ghost of a smile flickering over his face , “and I know Tony’s a strong son of a bitch, but not even he would have survived if you’d really been meaning to kill him.”
Peter blinked, looking up at him in mild curiosity. “What do you mean,” he asked hoarsely, “I was- I know I was trying to … to kill him. I can remember how it felt,” the last words were just whispered, unheard by anyone except Rhodey- he couldn’t will his voice to rise any further.
But Rhodey smiled. “I know you were,” he said softly, “so why, if you were trying so damned hard, did you still manage to miss any vital organs?”
When Peter just continued to look at him, Rhodey laughed a little, leaning his head closer as he muttered “the entry wound was about 4 inches above his heart, Parker. Either you have a really shitty aim for a super-enhanced individual, or there was some part inside you that forced it off.”
Rhodey leaned back and then sighed, running a hand over tired eyes. He bit his lip and looked off into the distance for a second, before just shivering a little and getting to his feet. When he looked back to Peter, his face softened again. A hand curled around Peter’s shoulder once more- he liked doing that. Peter had watched him do it to Tony a lot.
“This is going to work itself out,” Rhodey assured him, “you know what Tony’s like. He couldn’t stay down if you paid him. He’ll be giving you evil eyes and telling you that you owe him a new suit before you know it, I promise.” His hand left Peter’s shoulder and then he turned around, wandering over to the door.
Peter watched him vacantly as he said his goodbyes and then slipped through, on his way to check Tony. It left Peter on his own, staring at the wall as he had been for the past three hours. God, what he would have given in that moment for Ned’s incessant rambling or MJ’s dry wit.
What he would have given to just turn back the clock and stop it all. To unmake it.
He’d never wanted to take away his powers until now. But here he was sat, wishing with all his might that he’d just never been bitten. That he’d never been made strong. His strength had hurt someone. It had hurt Tony. Whatever he did, people he cared about always got hurt.
And it wasn’t fair, he thought miserably, not bothering to clean away the tears as they fell that time.
-
Tony’s hands came up once the first punch had landed- and it was funny, because sometimes even Peter forgot quite how strong he was when he truly put his mind to it. His fist cracked the eyeglass upon impact, and sent Tony’s head slamming back into concrete.
“Pete- Peter, what the fuck-“ Tony cursed and tried to grab at his hands, but Peter was faster than him- he’d slammed an elbow into the joint and sent it flying away, allowing him an opening to punch again. He didn’t wince when the impact struck. Didn’t change his face at all.
Pain was secondary. There was just one thing he wanted, with such sharp intensity it burned him.
There was a sudden whining noise, and before Peter could even get hold, Tony’s boots had fired up and he was launching down the road, metal scraping concrete and sending sparks flying from the speed. Peter turned his head and watched, head cocked in analysis.
He had to get in. He had to crack through the shell and get to the human underneath.
“Spiderman, stop,” Tony’s voice spoke loudly from JARVIS’ speakers, and he got to his feet quickly, hands going out into repulsor-firing position, “this isn’t you. Something has happened to you- stand down.”
Peter remained still for a second, before standing up and facing off with him. Tony didn’t waver on the other side of the road.
“Please, Peter,” Tony said, voice turning softer. There was that emotion again- further cementing Peter’s conviction that when push came to shove, the man in front of him was not going to be much of a threat. At least, not to him anyway. “Take a moment, remember where you are. It’s me. Tony. I’m not going to hurt you and you’re not going to hurt me either.”
He felt, in some far-away part of him, a flicker. A small blip- maybe the vaguest sense of trepidation. Of fear.
But that was the old Peter. He hadn’t understood. As he stood in front of the metal suit now, everything was so clear.
“JARVIS,” Peter called suddenly, and he watched Tony’s head tilt, wary hope radiating in his posture as he slackened, just the tiniest bit.
Or at least, until Peter added “Initiate emergency shutdown override, code Alpha, 1-1-3-8-8-4-5-9. Immediate release.”
“Wha- no, no, JARVIS, Primary User override, do not copy, don’t-“ but it was too little, too late. Peter remembered the code Tony had given him, he remembered what Tony had told him quietly in the dead of the workshop, looking at Peter with serious eyes.
‘This is maximum override,” he’d said, “nothing, not even myself, can reverse this. Cap used to have it, but after…well, you know, I decided I’d probably need it to change, you know?”
Peter had looked at the numbers with wide eyes, shaking his head. “What? No, Tony, why are you-“
“I need to think about this tactically,” Tony had said bluntly, spinning around on his chair and looking up at Peter with a small smile, “my suit is powerful, and it could hurt a lot of people if something went wrong. I need failsafes. People I trust for the off-chance that something goes wrong. And seeing as I don’t tend to have anyone else nearby or on the field with me in the way you are…” He’d clapped Peter on the shoulder and stood up, bumping their shoulders together as he’d walked past, “looks like you got the job, kid.”
Peter wondered, as he watched Tony stumble out of the suit from across the road, whether or not Tony was regretting that decision now.
“Shit,” the man cursed, turning back to the suit hopelessly for a second before twirling around to face Peter, who was still staring at him impassively, “shit shit, fuck, Peter, stop-“
Peter lifted his hand and aimed the web-shooter at him, but Tony ducked quickly behind the suit and the fluid just hit cold metal instead. With a grunt of annoyance, Peter pulled sharply, sending the dead suit flying somewhere behind him and leaving Tony exposed. The man’s eyes were wide- he was wearing nothing but some ratty workshop clothes that did little to protect him in the way the suit had- and yet when Peter raised his arm a second time, Tony didn’t even bother to run.
Instead, he just locked eyes with Peter and then clenched his jaw. “Tony Stark, Primary user- activate manual release on Spider-suit, Grounded Protocol.”
Okay, well, Peter had not known he could do that.
With a barely audible whirr, he felt the suit’s functions shutting down. He thrust out quickly with his wrist, but it was too late. With a sudden flicker, the HUD vision was out too, plunging him into darkness.
He hissed in dismay, briefly discombobulated by the shock of blindness. Tony Stark was not a foolish man- he should have prepared for this. Should have known Tony would put failsafes into more than just his own suit of armor.
Somewhere in the depth of his mind, there was a flicker of annoyance at the name: Grounded Protocol? Really?
He reached up for his mask and yanked it off- but before it could even go halfway over his eyes, he got knocked off his feet by a sudden smack with a fist.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Tony muttered through clenched teeth, bounding after Peter as he stumbled backward blindly and then delivering a hefty kick to the center of his chest that had him falling to his back on the floor, “please stay down, Peter, please God, just-“
Snarling, Peter flipped himself over and got to his feet speedily. Tony was a few paces from him, his eyes wide and scared as he looked over. His hands were raised and knees bent defensively- he was a good fighter, and he had experience- but Peter knew that he was stronger. Not only had he been enhanced before this, but now there was a new layer of power that rippled through him. Tony may have been trained by Captain America and Black Widow, but he still didn’t stand a chance.
And by the look on his face, he knew this.
“Peter, come on,” Tony hissed, backing up as Peter walked toward him, “remember who you are. Whatever you got hit with, it’s messing with your mind. This isn’t the boy who I had to stop from- from making Dum-E do his homework or setting my kitchen on fire when he tried to cook pancakes for me last week, remember? Come on, come on- just think. Think about who you are.”
Peter watched him blankly. None of that mattered- this right now, this was who he was.
“I’m going to kill you now,” he said smoothly, before leaping forward without hesitation
Tony’s hand came up and deflected the first punch; he even managed to duck under the next and very nearly dodged the third one too- but not quite. It clipped his jaw and his head spun, sending him backward a step. Peter swung around with a foot, landing the sole right in the stomach. With a grunt, Tony went down- but he rolled over on his back in the same way Peter had and was back on his feet a moment later, if a little more dazed now.
He could see Tony look around him desperately, searching for a defense, a barrier, something that would protect him. Peter prepared himself- there were various pieces of sharp rubble and metal lying around that Tony could use, and he needed to make sure they were not a threat to him. However, despite his eyes catching on at least three different scraps of metal that would have served as viable weapons, Tony picked up none of them.
Love was a strange thing, Peter thought idly, as he swung his fist around and landed it across the side of Tony’s face.
It sent him down, and this time, he didn’t get back up.
Peter hadn’t expected him to. The punch was heavy- enough to easily dislocate or fracture the jaw, and the forceful landing can’t have helped either. He followed Tony’s descent quickly; bending down and grabbing him by the throat before straightening back up and lifting the man with him. His eyes watched expressionlessly as Tony grabbed at his hands, toes just scuffing the floor. It was slightly annoying when he got another fist in the face, mind you, but he quickly rectified that by swinging around and then hauling Tony across the sidewalk, sending him rolling into the curb.
Dimly, he heard something in the back of his head that told him to stop. But that didn’t make sense. This was what he was made to do.
Tony gasped, getting to his knees and then rising half-way before Peter kicked him over again. After that, the foot moved and crashed into Tony’s face, head hitting concrete once more. He heard something crack in the man’s ribs and for a second the voice in his head was deafening. It made him blink in surprise, made him pause for a second.
It felt wrong, somehow. Hurting this man felt wrong. Intrinsically. Like walking with your eyes shut or falling without putting out your hands.
But he had to.
This was his job.
“Pete,” Tony coughed, hands curling around the rubble as he crawled backward, blood pouring from a cut along his temple and voice cracked from pain, but his gaze just as determined as it had been three minutes ago, “I’m not going to fight you-“
“Good,” he informed Tony, bending low and scooping up what looked to be a shard from a metal girder, “that’ll make killing you a lot easier.”
Saying it felt strange in his mouth. Like the words didn’t belong there. He pushed the screaming in his head back down into the darkness, until it became nothing but a quiet buzz.
Standing over Tony, he heard a strangely familiar whirring somewhere up above him and knew he had to hurry if he was to move on to the next victim. He may not be able to take two of them on at once. And Tony may have been half-dead already, but Peter did not dare underestimate him. He only needed to look back into his memories to know that Tony Stark was very good at turning things around in the nick of time.
But not in this instance.
“It’s okay,” Tony told him softly, eyes flicking once to the metal in Peter’s hand before looking back to his face, “it’s okay, Peter. This isn’t you. It wasn’t your fault. Remember that, alright?”
He stared down without feeling. The need to finish the job was overpowering him- and yet when he lifted his arm, something stopped him. Or something tried, at least. Either way, he felt the pause in his own movement and frowned lightly from it.
The distance sound of repulsors was becoming not-so-distant, and Peter didn’t have time. He had to kill. He had to kill.
He had to.
So without hesitation; without a second thought to the sound of his own voice screaming at him- he swung down with all his force and rammed the shard of metal straight into Tony’s chest.
-
They released him an hour later after the tests came back clean. They didn’t know what exactly had happened, didn’t know why it had stopped- but apparently they knew he’d been possessed. The scientists working on the bomb that had set off the shockwave were saying that it was alien tech. Magic, pretty much. Some sort of enhancement that inhibited all other emotions other than bloodlust and then dialed that up to ten. They hadn’t said as such, but Peter figured it was probably for the species’ soldiers. To make them fight better.
It had certainly worked for Peter. He’d goddamn beaten his own- and now-
Fuck.
Looking down at Tony’s still body as it lay on the hospital bed, all Peter could think was ‘I put him there’.
Rhodey had been talking to him for a while- well, more like at him- he knew Peter wasn’t really listening as he sat there. But someone had to fill the empty silence somehow. It was usually Tony’s job.
Look where Tony was now, though.
Rhodey kept saying things. ‘Not your fault’ and ‘magic bullshit’ and ‘ Tony wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself’. Someone hugged him. It felt like Aunt May, and looked like her too, but he didn’t register it. It was only when she gently tried to pull him away that he reacted; slowly taking her wrists and then removing them from his shoulders before going back to his staring.
Eventually, she stopped pulling. He was vaguely aware of her sitting down somewhere to the side of him and putting a hand on his knee.
It didn’t feel real.
He remembered, one time, when he’d been small- maybe 4th grade or something- he’d pushed a kid over into the mud. It had been a stupid thing; the boy had taken one of his pencils and lost it, but at the time Peter had been really mad about it. So he’d shoved him. The boy had had to go to the nurse’s office because he’d bumped his shoulder, and then Peter had spent the rest of the day feeling so guilty he’d ended up drawing the boy a picture with his most expensive crayons and written his apology all over it.
He’d never liked hurting people. He’d thought that kind of guilt was hard to deal with, but he’d had no idea that he was even capable of feeling something like this.
This was his fault. No matter what Rhodey or May told him, this was his fault.
In front of him, he watched Tony’s heartbeat spike slowly on the screen, and then drop, and then spike again. Over and over and over, slow and steady. They’d hooked him up to all those fancy wires and machines; people kept talking about ‘Helen Cho’s Cradle’ and how it had remarkable healing abilities, he’d undoubtedly be fine by the end of the week. But all Peter cared about was the heart-monitor.
It was comforting, knowing he was still alive, at least. Good to know Peter hadn’t murdered him immediately.
Only time would tell how long that would last, though. Tony might not wake up at all. His chest had been through an awful lot in the past. Maybe Peter was the final straw. Maybe he’d never manage to open his eyes again.
He’d done this. The stitched-up cut on his forehead, the purple bruises on his throat, the bandaged ribs and the broken ankle- it was all on him.
God, he wished Tony would wake up.
Peter wasn’t sure exactly how he’d react if he did, but he just knew with a fierce intensity that he needed it to happen. Tony always knew what to do- he’d know exactly what happened to Peter, and he’d smile and roll his eyes and tell everyone to quit staring at him, it was getting weird. He’d probably call Peter a wimp for not finishing the job or say something equally tasteless and so very Tony that it would make Peter giggle despite everything. Tony was good at that.
But for now, all Peter could do was sit by his bedside and wait.
-
Tony’s face came to him in his dreams later on.
Just a snapshot, again. The image- the look of surprise in his eyes. The tilt downward of his head as he looked at Peter’s hands, and the chunk of metal that had embedded itself within his chest. There was blood everywhere.
Peter did not sleep again that night.
-
It looked like dawn was just about to break when he heard the flicker of the heart-monitor.
His head shot up- tired, bloodshot eyes moving to the machine and watching as the line spiked a little faster; sped up to imply wakefulness. In the corner of his eye, he saw Tony’s finger twitch, saw a little frown just begin to crease his forehead. Rhodes and Aunt May were still sound asleep; he was the only one around to witness it.
He’d moved from his seat and was standing at Tony’s side before he even knew what to do with himself, eyes wide and fearful, desperate.
Come on, come on, please. Please. Please wake up, please wake up, please-
Tony woke up.
Peter watched his eyes flicker open- heavy and slow and woozy, revealing the dark brown in the half-light of the room. His brow creased further, obviously trying to recall how he’d ended up there, but when they focused on Peter, he watched as a tired smile broke out on his face. For a brief second, Peter allowed himself the happiness of the moment. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the relief bubbling up inside him and threatening to spill out from his eyes as teardrops- he was so exhausted and worn-thin, the emotions were lying too close to the surface to hold back. He wanted to lean in and hug Tony and tell him how sorry he was- hear his voice and know without a doubt that he was okay, that Peter hadn’t destroyed everything.
That was, of course, before the reality of the situation set back in again and wiped the smile right off his face almost as quickly as it had come.
“Ah,” Tony murmured quietly, fond smile directed right at Peter’s undeserving face, “still ‘live then? Nice. Knew y’d c’me through.”
Peter just stared at him, slightly disbelieving. Was he dreaming? This had to be real. He really, really hoped it was real.
Oh God, what if it wasn’t real? He wasn’t sure he could cope with that.
Tony was looking at him, beginning to grow concerned. Now the shock had died down, Peter was backing away, wary all of a sudden. He didn’t trust himself. Didn’t know if the… if whatever had changed him was still inside, just waiting for the right moment. He only stopped reversing when his back suddenly hit the door with a soft thump.
Tony tried sitting up a little, but when that proved unsuccessful he simply frowned. “Peter? Are you o-“
“I can’t do this,” he blurted loudly- loud enough the Rhodey jerked to his feet on instinct and Aunt May awoke with a little jolt. Both of them looked around quickly, taking in the scene around them with varying degrees of happiness. Rhodey just seemed overjoyed that he was looking at Tony’s open eyes, but May was glancing up at Peter and noticing the way he was stood, the tense line of his shoulders. Her hand went out to grab him, but he reared away wildly, like his touch would burn.
“Do what, Peter?” Tony asked slowly, gently, and it was so fucking unfair, the man had just woken up from a fucking coma and yet here he was, putting on his rare Adult Voice just to try and comfort Peter.
He looked around him- at the room full of concerned faces, at the man in front of him who was as good as his own Dad by that point, and yet lying in a hospital bed because of Peter’s weaknesses, Peter’s flaws.
It was an obvious choice, in the end.
“I can’t be Spiderman any more,” he declared, and without another word, he turned and marched out of the doors.
He heard his name called out after him, but didn’t stop for it. Now his legs were moving, he wasn’t going to slow down for anyone. He couldn’t. He just needed to get out.
Tony was alive, Tony was awake, and now Peter had to really come to terms with what he’d done.
The SHIELD agents still didn’t know he was Spiderman. Rhodey had taken off his suit before bringing him in so as to prevent anyone finding out, which meant the identity he kept was still hidden. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he’d been in a situation that had required him to use his mind to fight off whatever had been wrong with him and he’d failed. He’d fucking failed. And Tony had paid the price for that.
Some hero he was.
But that was the point though, wasn’t it? Not any more. He couldn’t be a hero after what he’d done. He should’ve fought against it harder, better than the pathetic attempts he’d made whilst in the moment. Because he knew he’d been trying- he could sense it. The memories that were hazy and unfocused, they showed it like a dream. Like he was on the inside looking out. He remembers wanting to scream a lot. He remembers trying.
But trying was not the same thing as succeeding.
How the hell was he supposed to face Tony? See the disappointment in his eyes, the hurt? Because Tony would have found a way. If the thing had been reversed, Peter knew he would have found a way to fight it. Tony could do anything when he put his mind to it, he wasn’t weak like Peter.
God, fuck, fuck, he wanted to be sick. His hands were shaking- he could remember how it had felt to drive that metal through Tony’s fucking chest, how on Earth was he supposed to live with that-
His feet had begun to run, and he didn’t bother to stop them. He just had to go. Anywhere. Anywhere away from there.
-
He kept running and running and running until he reached the familiar apartment block where he must have come hundreds of time by that point. The lights were off, the whole building silent, and Peter looked to the top-left corner, where he knew Ned would be sleeping soundly. They had school tomorrow, after all.
He wasn’t sure why he’d come here. Maybe for the comfort. Maybe he just wanted the normalcy back, just for a second. Ned was good with normal. Relatively speaking, anyway.
But he couldn’t.
He didn’t trust himself.
What if he hurt Ned too? What if it came back? Ned was never going to be able to even hope to defend himself- fuck, Peter was putting him in danger just by being here, why had he even decided that trekking all the way back to Queens in search of his fast-asleep best friend would be a good idea at all, he was such an idiot-
Fuck. He sucked in a fast breath and spun around on his heel, hands going to his head. He felt overwhelmed. Totally and utterly- this was so far out of his comfort zone he couldn’t even- what was he even supposed to do- who was he supposed to- and how- fuck-
Falling to his knees at the side of the road, he gasped and tried to make his mind go silent. But it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t and he was stuck, stuck in the loop, he knew a panic attack when he saw one but he just couldn’t get the image out of his damn head. The what-if’s were running haywire in his mind- what if he’d killed Tony? What if he hadn’t stopped? What if there had been innocent people and he’d gone for them too?
He’d used the emergency codes Tony had trusted him with against him. Tony had put his faith in Peter and Peter had just let him down.
Everyone who got close to him was let down by him in some way, sooner or later. Liz, he’d fucked her over on prom night because he was an asshole, who does that? Uncle Ben- last thing Peter had ever done with him was argue. He constantly worried May with his stupid antics, and sooner or later she was going to snap.
And now Tony.
He’d nearly killed someone. With his own bare hands, he’d nearly killed another man.
It was freezing cold outside, but he didn’t care. Barely even felt it.
He just sat, until the morning came, and then he walked away.
-
He didn’t go home.
He was hungry and tired and just wanted to curl up, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to see everyone’s faces again. The disappointment, the fear that he would see in their eyes- it would be too much.
He just had to keep walking.
So that’s what he did. He tried to keep his mind blank and his head down as he wandered aimlessly, and for the most part he succeeded. No one looked twice at him, with his hood up and his dirty sweatpants showing everyone just how little he wanted to be spoken to.
No matter what he did, though, he struggled to keep his mind from thinking. It was too much. He just wanted it to stop. Anything that could stop the memories from coming back; maybe finding some alcohol or drugs or whatever, he didn’t care, he just wanted it all to stop, just for a bit. It had been 26 hours, now, and that was already too much.
He didn’t know what to do.
The selfish part of him wanted to just run back to Manhattan. To find Tony and beg forgiveness- because Tony would do it in a heartbeat. Peter knew he would. He’d say it was okay and he’d make Peter feel better. And then May would hug him tight and Rhodey was ruffle his hair lightly and maybe they could try and put things right, put them back to normal.
But Peter didn’t deserve that.
He didn’t go home.
Instead, he walked. For days. He knew they passed, because he saw when it went dark, then noticed when the light came back again. He didn’t sleep. Or eat. His body was better at sustaining him for longer periods of time, and until he actively blacked out, Peter refused to let himself rest. For one thing, he didn’t want to see what his dreams would throw back up at him in revenge.
He’d never felt more lost and alone before, in his entire life.
Because he’d built it up, now. In his head. And he knew that he was overthinking it and making it worse, but he was terrified of going back. He didn’t know what everyone would say. They’d look at him with disappointed faces; with lines of stress in their eyes that Peter had caused and he didn’t know if he could bear it. Running away had made things worse, and now he couldn’t go back. Too scared. Too cowardly to face his own actions.
He really hoped Tony was doing okay.
That thought remained with him for a long time, constantly there in the back of his mind. He didn’t have a phone on him, so he couldn’t check, but he trusted Tony’s stubbornness enough to see him through. The man would probably be fighting his way out of hospital by the fifth day.
Had it been the fifth day already? Peter wasn’t sure.
He hadn’t stopped moving since he’d run out of the hospital. His legs really hurt.
For the most part though, he just ignored it. Then when he remembered that that was what he’d done whilst he’d been beating Tony against the sidewalk, he made sure to keep the feeling of the pain close, visceral. He wasn’t that person. He wasn’t. Pain and emotions, they weren’t ‘secondary’ things- he needed to remember them. Because that was who he was, not some monster, not whatever kind of killing machine those aliens had tried to make him.
He just wanted to be himself. He’d only ever wanted to be himself, and help people.
“Peter.”
He tilted his head up at the sound of his name. Eyes scanned over Rhodey’s face vacantly, before it actually sunk in a second later and he stumbled where he was stood, taking a step back. “Rhodey,” he blurted, the first trickles of fear already setting in.
It was in his face. The worry was already in Rhodey’s eyes, Peter was just making everything worse, whatever he did it made things-
“You’re coming with me, alright Peter?” He said the words slowly, walking closer on the sidewalk, wary, like Peter was some sort of wild animal, “we need to get you home.”
What was the point in fighting it? He was pretty sure if he tried to run he’d just collapse anyway.
He looked on with blank eyes as Rhodey stepped closer, and then put a surprisingly gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder. His own face was very calm, cool, collected as always. “Have you just been wandering ‘round New Jersey for the past six days, kiddo?” He asked quietly, deep concern layered in his voice.
Peter didn’t respond. Didn’t know whether his mouth would even work well enough to do so. He was vaguely surprised he’d ended up in New Jersey though- hadn’t been expecting that. He let Rhodey move him back in the direction he’d come from, off into a small alley where the familiar War Machine armour was waiting.
Last time Peter had looked at it, Rhodey had been tackling him away from Tony’s body.
“Is he- is he okay?” Peter whispered, voice sounding a hell of a lot more hoarse than it had last time he’d said anything. Probably due to the fact that he hadn’t drunk anything properly in a good few days.
“Physically, he’s doing good,” Rhodey told him in that same gentle voice, stepping into the suit with ease, “although we’ve had to pretty much forcibly restrain him from leaving the bed.” His head turned to Peter and he heard a sigh through the comm. “He’s been going out of his mind with worry, Peter.”
He said nothing. Just swallowed and then let Rhodey curl his arm around Peter’s waist, lifting them off the ground fast and quick.
The flight back to Manhattan would usually have been fun. Tony knew he enjoyed it up there, and sometimes he did loops and flips in the sky just because they made Peter laugh.
Rhodey just flew. Peter didn’t even mind- he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy it even if he had done all the fancy stuff. He appreciated the fact that Rhodey kept the thermal plates on the suit turned up, though. Now he was thinking about it, he was really cold.
Rhodey didn’t say anything- not until he’d landed outside the compound anyway. He stepped right out of the suit and then his hands had gone back to Peter; one hand on his shoulder and the other cupping the back of his neck, head moving in a little as he carefully observed Peter. “I need you to answer this honestly, Peter. Where have you been for the last six days, and did anything happen to you?”
Peter just looked at him with a small shrug. “Walking,” he said, voice flat, “nothing happened.”
Rhodey continued to watch him for a second, before he sighed shortly and stood straighter. His hand remained on Peter’s shoulder. “Alright,” he said, “alright. Let’s get you inside. It’s gonna be okay, Peter.”
Peter didn’t really know why he was being comforted, but he appreciated the sentiment anyway and allowed Rhodey to steer him through the doors of the compound. The air was staler inside, and he breathed in experimentally, smelling the familiar sort of scent that reminded him of safety. Warmth. This was where he spent most of his time, these days.
Or at least, where he’d used to. He wasn’t sure he would be welcomed, any more.
There was a sudden clattering from somewhere from around the corner, and both Peter and Rhodey stopped in their tracks. Over the speakers, he heard the distant voice of JARVIS. “Sir, I really would advise you to turn around and get back to the medbay at once, you are not fit enough to be walking-“
“J, I’m gonna have to ask you to can it,” Tony’s voice answered sharply, through what sounded like gritted teeth, “I have a visitor.”
“A visitor who will undoubtedly be happy to meet you somewhere that is-“
The voice cut, and Peter guessed Tony must have signalled for mute. A second later, he watched as Tony himself walked as quickly as a man on a crutch possibly could around the corner, turning to them and then stopping very suddenly in his tracks.
He was slightly grey in the face. Thinner, and tired. His foot was in a cast and although he was wearing jeans, it seemed like he’d ripped off the bottom half of his hospital gown and just made a shirt out of it.
When his gaze settled on Peter, he gasped in shock, eyes widening perceptibly.
Peter looked back at him. Suddenly, his legs felt so tired. He was so tired. And now he’d been brought back, and he almost certainly wasn’t going to be able to stay long- but maybe just enough for a sleep and a drink or something, it had been a while-
So caught up in his own head, he barely even noticed the fast cracking sound of crutch against tile until he looked up and watched Tony rush into him, arms flying out and wrapping tightly around his shoulders. Peter blinked, putting a foot back to stop himself stumbling over as Tony enveloped him in a crushing hug that had to have hurt his chest.
“Jesus Christ, Peter,” he whispered, his voice sounding… scared, almost, “where the fucking hell have you been? God, I was worried shitless.”
Rhodey said something to the side of them- something Peter couldn’t hear for the crashing sounds in his ears. Tony’s hands were clenched around the fabric on his shoulders, his cheek pressed into Peter’s hair, holding so tight and radiating safety in a way that he’d needed so much over the past few days-
With a fragile breath outward, Peter snapped his hands up and hugged back, burying his head into Tony’s shoulder.
And without further ado, he burst into tears.
-
There were people arguing quietly when he came back around.
He hadn’t even been aware he’d blacked out at all. But wherever he was now, it wasn’t in Tony’s arms, which is the last place he’d remembered. It felt like a bed.
“-No, Rhodey, I’m fine, I don’t need-“
“you just got stabbed, Tony, you cannot be up and walking around, I don’t give a damn how good you say that Cradle thing is-“
“Am I walking around right now? No. I’m sat right here, where I will remain-“
“Tony, you really need to go-“
“Hey, how about both of you shut up and take your bickering somewhere else so you don’t wake my apparently severely sleep-deprived son up?” And that was May, joining the fold in her usual blunt way and somehow managing to pull tiny smile onto Peter’s face.
He really loved Aunt May and her ability to effortlessly shut up a room of superheroes.
“Oh, look, never fucking mind,” she breathed irritably, just as Peter’s eyes fluttered open, “he’s awake now. Good one, geniuses.” Her head turned and she scooted the chair closer to him, stroking a hand over his head softly. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “Hi, baby,” she whispered, biting her lip, “how’re you feeling?”
Peter just blinked up at her, then felt around for her hand on the bed, holding it with shaking fingers. She’d forgive him. He knew she would. She’d always be there. No matter what he did. “Okay,” he responded equally quietly, looking firmly at her and not at either of the other two people in the room.
She looked down at him with a watery smile and then sniffed. “Rhodes was telling me about the accident. We’ve all been looking for you since you disappeared. Petey- God, I’m so glad you’re okay, you had me so scared-“ she broke off, looking away to wipe a quick hand under her eye and catch the tear before it could fall. All at once, Peter felt the guilt come crushing back, heavy and thick and clogging.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking at the ceiling helplessly, “I’m so sorry, so so sorry, I never meant to… any of it, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“
“Hey, hey, shhh,” she stroked her hand across his forehead, pushing his hair back with soft fingers. He choked up a little, still feeling the exhaustion that had been hanging over him since everything had begun. He can’t have been asleep long.
Another feather-light hand pressed almost imperceptibly against his forearm, and Peter knew who it was from familiarity alone. The length of his fingernails and the weight he pressed- it was Tony. It was Tony but he didn’t want to look. He didn’t know what he’d see.
“Peter,” Tony said quietly, “please look at me.”
His voice sounded so… terrible. Peter couldn’t discern whether it was through the injury that Peter had given him or just emotion caught in his throat, but either way, there was an undeniable waver to it that everyone in the room heard.
He stayed staring at the ceiling, feeling something hot form in the corner of his eye and slip over, down his cheek. He knew he had to talk to Tony at some point, but he was a coward and he was afraid to know what the man was going to say to him. That he was going to kick him out of his life forever. He didn’t know if he’d be able to bear that.
So he just stayed looking up at the ceiling, face blank, tears silently falling.
Tony sighed deeply, and Peter saw him move out of the corner of his eye. Rhodey muttered something quietly, but Tony brushed him off and then turned his focus back on Peter.
“Guys?” He asked quietly, “can I just have a minute alone with Peter?”
His eyes hurt. His legs still ached from all his walking. He didn’t feel thirsty any more, but he guessed that was thanks to the work of the IV.
And yet still, the greatest pain was somewhere in his chest- a psychosomatic throb that felt almost suffocating. He was so glad Tony was okay, he was so happy he hadn’t caused lasting damage, but he didn’t want to get talked to about how he needed to back away and leave superheroing behind after this. He knew it. It had been part of the reason why he’d declared he didn’t want to be Spiderman anymore- better to quit than to be fired, right? Saves a bit of your pride.
“Peter?” May asked at his side, her hand lowering onto his and then squeezing, “you want me to go for a bit, let you and Tony catch up?”
She was giving him an out and he knew it in the way her eyes bore into his, the question evident. If he shook his head, it would take an army to remove her from his side. That part was comforting, at least.
But he didn’t shake his head. He had to face up to this. He had to.
She waited for another second, before nodding a little. She was still crying, but she smiled down at him and then leaned forward, kissing his forehead. “I’m so glad you came back, honey,” she whispered, and Peter knew that when this was all finished, he had a lot of making up to do to her.
She straightened up and then walked out slowly, shooting looks behind her as she went, just in case Peter suddenly changed his mind. Rhodey followed shortly after, with a quick squeeze to Tony’s shoulder before quietly shutting the door behind him.
Which left him alone in the room with Tony.
There was a long silence, in which neither of them moved. Tony continued to lean on his chair, and Peter stared at the ceiling.
It seemed they both caved at the same time, however, because Peter ended up whispering “please forgive me,” just as Tony blurted “I don’t blame you, you know.”
Which, y’know, seemed like two very contrasting statements.
Jerking to life and suddenly filled with desperation, Peter turned his head to him and sat up, resting on his elbows. “I tried,” he hissed quickly, breath starting to come in fast again, “I tried to fight it so hard, Tony, but I didn’t… I couldn’t control it, I felt like I was dreaming, I’m so so sorry, I’m sorry I let you down, I’m sorry I hurt you, I-“
“Whoah whoah whoah, Peter, Peter, slow down,” Tony scooted forward suddenly, his eyes wide as a hand fell on Peter’s arm and squeezed, “just… take a few breaths, okay, you’ve been through a lot this week-“
“You got stabbed,” Peter said hysterically, “you shouldn’t even be here. It’s because of me you got hurt and now you’re not looking after yourself because of me as well-“
“Stop it, Peter,” Tony said loudly, his head moving back and forth as he shook it, “stop… thinking everything is your fault. Okay? It’s not. None of this was your fault, do you understand? There was an external force that temporarily rewired your entire chemical makeup, you couldn’t have even hoped to try and stop that. There is no way, ever, that I am going to hold you responsible for what you did.”
Peter looked at him, then dropped his gaze to the floor. “You should,” he whispered.
There was a long silence, then Tony sighed. The hand on his arm squeezed. “I’ve already done the whole ‘blaming innocent people for crimes they couldn’t stop’ thing. Not a fan. Doesn’t lead to anywhere but trouble, kid, let me tell you.”
When Peter didn’t say anything, Tony made another sound in the back of his throat. “Peter, being a superhero is not easy,” he said softly, leaning back into his chair, “bad things happen. Some things are your fault, but some things are just shit for reasons out of your control. But look- I survived. I’m a tough dude, it’d take more than some possessed tween to get rid of me.”
Peter glanced up at him for a second, frowning slightly. “I’m not a tween,” he muttered, watching as Tony grinned back at him and pointed a finger.
“Ha, I made you say something non-self-destructive,” the man cheered, poking him in the arm good-naturedly. When Peter just gave him a tight smile in response, Tony’s face fell horribly a second later. He looked so tired, all of a sudden.
“This is my fault,” he muttered quietly, quiet enough that Peter probably hadn’t even been meant to hear it, and he head fell into his hands tiredly, running through his hair, “fuck, it… I only properly woke up three days ago, and then they told me you’d gone missing and I wasn’t even in a good enough state to go after you, and I put JARVIS on search but you’re really fucking good at avoiding everything when you want, you know that? And of course, whilst I was so busy fucking around in this stupid medbay, you were just out there… stewing. What were you even fucking doing for six days, Peter? Six fucking days?” It seemed once he’d started he couldn’t stop, because he had to physically clamp his hand over his own mouth to halt the words at that point.
Peter looked at him incredulously. “Your fault?” He hissed, sitting straighter, “how… how the fuck did you manage to warp this into something that was your fault?”
“Uh, you’re looking at the man who has been self-sabotaging since before he could talk, buddy, of course I can warp it into my fault.”
“Well it’s not.”
“It really fucking is- I’m the adult, I should’ve looked after you better.”
“Whilst comatose?” Peter asked, completely baffled, “Tony, for God’s sake, it should have been me looking out for you, not fucking k-“
“Whilst brainwashed?” Tony asked quickly, then raised an eyebrow when the boy scowled, “they’re essentially the same thing, Peter.”
“No they’re-“
“Listen, Peter,” and Tony was serious now as he leaned forward again, hands folded over one another and fiddling nervously, “believe me, I have done the fucking research into every psychological report on brainwashing and mind control I could get my hands on. I have spent weeks- and no, I am not fucking kidding you- evaluating and testing and proving and disproving every single fucking theory I can find. I’m probably one of the leading experts in that field now. And you know what all the conclusive fucking evidence points towards?”
Tony took a sharp breath and then turned away, head bowed. “People under the influence of mind control or psychological manipulation have varying degrees of control over the situation. For instance, an amateur street artist may be able to induce certain states of consciousness upon regular humans. Heavy machinery designed specifically for that purpose and used over a long period of time- or a bomb that released a chemical compound that travelled along the Jetstream of a shockwave and went directly into your brain? They’re instances in which the victim has zero control. Both time and concentration of the stimulant play a large part in its effectiveness. And Peter, you were about as close as it could get.” He shut his eyes and then just smiled, a little worn around the edges. “Trust me, Peter. This was not your fault.”
Peter didn’t know why he was fighting this. Didn’t he want to be forgiven? Wasn’t that what he had been begging barely a minute earlier?
So why was it so hard to take it now?
Maybe because you don’t deserve the forgiveness, the quiet voice in his head muttered, giving him a lovely little flashback of Tony underneath him, blood seeping over his neck and landing in a puddle on each side.
“You know what I am mad at you for though?” Tony piped up after another second, head turning back to Peter, “running off. For six days. Do you know how worried May was? How worried I…” he sighed, holding his nose between thumb and forefinger before turning back to Peter. The look on his face was a little haunted as he muttered “thought someone had goddamn snatched you, kid. It’s lucky Rhodey was around, I swear to God, or I would’ve probably done some very unwise things.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, biting his lip, “I… I just couldn’t- I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think you’d want to see me. Or have anything to do with me. I didn’t want to go back and make everything worse.”
“So instead you drifted around New Jersey in a trance-like haze until Rhodey clocked you on the radar and went to pick you up?” Tony snapped a little irritably, and yeah, Peter had probably had that one coming. “God, Pete, you didn’t even eat. Did you stop moving at all? Sleep? Anything?”
Peter’s silence was enough, and Tony’s eyes closed in dismay. But his hand reached out and found Peter’s anyway- despite all the disappointment, all the frustration he was probably harboring.
Peter was grateful. Stupidly, immensely grateful.
“Do you really want to stop being Spiderman?” Tony asked him quietly, and suddenly his heart was stuttering to a halt in his chest, the weight of the question sitting heavy on his heart.
He loved Spiderman. It was… it was everything to him.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d failed. That he should have been better, done more. He couldn’t be trusted in the field anymore. He was a liability. Tony’s slightly labored breathing and broken ankle was proof of that much.
He was viscerally aware of everything he was choosing to give up as he nodded his head in misery, but he knew he had to. He knew it was the right thing to do.
Tony stared at him for a moment, before just nodding and then smiling softly. “Okay,” he said, “okay, that’s absolutely fine, Peter. You should probably focus on school anyway. Don’t worry about it, I’ll sort everything out. Just- please promise you’re not doing this because you still think this was your fault, yeah?”
It wasn’t that it was his fault. It was that he wasn’t good enough. So he nodded his head and smiled tightly, trying to ignore the emptiness in his chest as he mumbled “so I’ll… I’ll go get my stuff from the labs later, clean up the space-“
“Whoah, what?” Tony interrupted, eyes narrowing suddenly. “What do you mean, ‘take your stuff’? Why are you leaving?”
Peter had a whole speech planned and everything, but that threw him off a little, and he blinked. “Don’t you… I mean, now I’m not gonna be Spiderman, and- and I’m guessing you don’t want me finding out any more valuable information and stuff-“
“Peter,” Tony cut a hand through the air, face nothing short of utterly incredulous as he leaned forward on his chair, “you don’t seriously think that the only reason I kept you in my lab was because you’re Spiderman, right?”
Ah.
“What the fuck, Peter?” Tony blurted, jolting in his seat, “why in the hell would you ever come to that conclusion? You think I just let any old superhero in there? You think I put up with your incessant tapping or your constant desire to eat and get crumbs in my machinery or the talking even when I tell you to stop- just because you’re Spiderman?” He threw his hands into the air helplessly, before letting them fall into his hair. He looked about ready to start tearing it out. “Good God, Peter, I don’t let you in because you’re some bigshot superhero, I let you come and work with me because I know you love it down there and I want you to be happy! Why the damn hell- what kind of bullshit even goes on in that head of yours?”
Tony’s face softened, and he looked away in slight embarrassment, shrugging minutely. “You’re as good as family to me, Peter. Come on. I’m not leaving you behind just because you want to take a break from a job you should never have taken up in the first place. Your home is still here, whenever you want it to be.”
Peter stared up at him, shocked. He honestly couldn’t have said he’d expected that- not after everything. He thought this was it- he’d ruined everything.
“But-“ he spluttered, squinting in confusion, “what if- what if I, like, get hold of sensitive information again? Like the… like the suit release codes?”
Tony sighed, then, but he smiled after. His head shook and his hand squeezed Peter’s. “I’m not changing my mind. You’re still the most trustworthy person I know. And the chances of the same event occurring again are slim as fuck, so I think I can rest easy on that front. There’s nothing in that lab that I’d need to hide from you, Mr. Parker, no matter how much you might annoy me.” He ruffled Peter’s dirty hair fondly and then breathed out, fingers kneading very gently across his chest.
Shit. Yeah. Stabbed six days ago by Peter, right.
“You need to go back to your medbay,” Peter said with a frown, then watched as Tony’s head shot up, unimpressed.
“I think I’m fine, thank you.”
“Tony, you were impaled.”
“And? I get impaled a lot, chill out.”
“Tony please-“
“I’m not letting you out of my sight for the next week, let’s make that clear right now,” Tony told him with a raised finger and arched eyebrow, “you might accidentally wander off to Ohio.”
“I’m sorry-“
“Stop apologizing, Peter,” Tony looked over to him, took in his pale face, the deep purple bags under Peter’s eyes, “what happened happened, and now all we can do is move on. You can’t change the past. But I am going to let you know that you are literally going to die when May gets over the initial worry. Like. You’re getting skinned.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. ‘Oh’. Just be fucking Glad I can’t hand out punishments or believe me, I would make you pay for that stunt. Jesus- New Jersey? Seriously? Couldn’t just have run away to the next borough could you, no, it had to be New Jersey-“
“Tony,” Peter cut into his rambling, pursing his lips a little as he tried to think of how best to phrase the question. He still had so many things he wanted to ask- so many things he needed to say.
But somehow the only thing that came out was: “are you really… do you really forgive me?”
Tony looked at him with an unchanging face as he said the words, but afterward, there was a flash of something that Peter couldn’t quite identify. However, he didn’t scowl. Didn’t roll his eyes and say ‘of course I don’t really, I’d have to be an idiot to trust you fully’.
Instead, he just smiled.
“Without hesitation,” he answered quietly, before his face sobered and his jaw ticked a little. “But please, God, do not ever run off like that again. Don’t ever… don’t ever voluntarily hurt yourself like that again, Peter, please, I- honestly, it was fucking awful. It was worse than being stabbed by you- I hadn’t got a fucking clue where you were, whether or not someone had snatched you, I could barely even leave my fucking b-“
“I promise,” Peter said softly, because really, it was the least he could do, “I’m sorry. For everything. For making things into such a big mess.”
Tony shrugged, sitting back on his chair and apparently getting comfortable. Or at least, he would be until Rhodey came in and dragged his ass back. “That’s what teenagers are good at,” he answered with a fond roll of his eyes, “don’t fret it. It’s been a long week. I think you should just go back to sleep, Pete.”
Well. He knew if they were onto ‘Pete’ then Tony must really be tired. Unfortunately, though, he was well aware that there was no way Tony would be sleeping until Peter did. Which left him in a little awkward predicament.
He actually had to sleep.
It was lucky he was so exhausted, or he might have found that difficult. As it was, he just sighed and wiped at his eyes, swallowing down the rest of the emotion and trying to remember that Tony didn’t blame him. That he hadn’t known what he was doing and couldn’t have stopped it even if he had. That he wasn’t a monster, just a boy.
“It’s gonna be okay, right?” He murmured, eyes forcing themselves to remain open as he looked to Tony for the confirmation he needed to hear. He knew it was childish, but fuck it, he was a child. He was allowed to need someone to just tell him everything would be fine, even if they didn’t mean it sometimes. It was comforting anyway.
And he didn’t want to have to carry the weight of guilt around with him for the rest of his life. It was such a heavy burden to hold onto.
Tony paused for a second, the smile almost sticking to his face. But then it changed; flowed fluidly into a carefully constructed air of nonchalance as he patted Peter’s head and then hunkered down, trying to find an angle to rest that wouldn’t hurt his chest.
“Everything’s going to be fine, Peter, don’t worry. You’ve got me. Nothing can go wrong.”
Peter couldn’t help but laugh, and as sleep began to close in around him, he reminded himself to touch some wood when he next woke up.