Chapter Text
It was a dumb idea to go against a rushing crowd in the midst of an evacuation, but you had promised your parents that you would be right back. You could make it back, all you needed was a minute. You had (stupidly) left your phone at the Starbucks in the airport food court. Definitely not your best moment, nor was it the most convenient time especially when you had heard the crowd buzzing with the fact that the Avengers were there. It was unbearably hot trying to wiggle and squeeze your way through the masses, but you would be damned if you didn’t have your phone on you in a city you were completely baffled by.
“It won’t take long. I’ll be quick. I’ll be back in a flash.”
And you knew you would be, just as soon as you muscled your way past the majority of the panicked faces around you. It was good that you were not agoraphobic. The farther you ventured back into the airport, the more the crowd grew sparse. The yelling and dull roar of the crowd began to fade into a low murmur and you found yourself in an emptied atrium. Spinning around to gather your bearings, your sneakers squeaked against the tile floor. You threw a cautious glance back around you before you broke off in a light jog towards the Starbucks cafe.
It had to be left on the ledge behind the table your family had gathered around. You skirted around the messes left behind in the evacuation, bags abandoned, tables and chairs in disarray, carefully avoiding tripping and injuring yourself, you made it to the deserted coffee shop and scanned the back wall. The case on your phone was bright and you smiled in relief that no one had snatched it from its place in the chaos.
You were reunited with your phone and you clicked it on to see a handful of texts and notifications regarding the situation. A few of your friends were texting you to see if you were safe and you had already gotten one from your dad asking you if you had found your phone. Unfortunately for you cell phone service in the airport was bordering on nonexistent and your best bet was simply to head back towards the exit.
When you exited the cafe, you were met with nothing. Silence.
The lack of auditory stimuli felt odd— spooky even.
You retreat back was slow, deliberate, as if you made too much noise you would find yourself on the set of a horror film. You could outrun a psychotic murderer, but avoiding it was preferable. Your eyes wandered over to the open tarmac, all planes at a full stop and you thought it felt very post-apocalyptic being all alone in an empty airport.
Until you saw them.
Starstruck. Was that the right world? Or simply, curious.
Whatever the semantics, you were quick to press up against the wall of glass as you saw a gathering outside where the hangars were. It had to be them. The Avengers. The actual Avengers, not just mindless speculation overheard from the crowd. That had to be them—you were unsure how many other people had a that many high quality replications of Iron Man suits. You couldn’t help but stare, pulling out our phone and opening up the camera. Sneaking a few videos of the Avengers was the most valid excuse of being late to meet up with your family. You wouldn’t take too long…
Your eyes widened in disbelief as conflict broke out below on ground floor. Red blasts shot out in the midst of plane parts flying into the air, car smashed into the asphalt, and missiles whizzed into neighboring buildings. Explosions shook the ground beneath you as you wobbled and struggled to stay upright on your feet. The echoing of glass being shattered told you, you should run. Run and keep running. So, why were you still stood frozen to the spot?
The thought of trying to capture the fight on film long forgotten as the fighting below became more and more intense. You had overstayed your viewing and you needed to get back to your family now. Just run , your mind kept telling you. Your feet wouldn’t budge. Just go, just go, just run.
Your heart raced as your eyes followed a truck colliding with the ground erupting into a cloud of fire upon impact, you jumped that the sound. The sweat on your brow grew cold as you watched superheroes you only ever thought found aliens and bad guys fight each other. Why couldn’t you move? A loud bang and glass hitting the floor to your left and you fell from the quake in the floor. The wing of an airplane has lodged itself into the Starbucks, and you could feel the heat of the flames from where you had fallen. You scrambled backwards, struggling to your feet, tripping over you ankles it felt like, and turning to run away. You had to run.
Run. Run.
A red blast hit the side of the building and glass shattered around you. You tumbled to the tile and felt the shards pierce through the denim of your jeans. Using your hands to push yourself up, you felt the glass crunch under your weight and you hissed in pain. Crimson pooled under your fingertips and you felt your eyes watering. Run away.
Another explosive bang had you falling face forward into the sharp debris. Your ears began ringing, your vision wavering as your breathing felt labored. You needed to get up and run. It was surreal like you had maybe hit your head on your way to the cafe and were dreaming up some crazy fight just because you had heard the mention of superheroes. All your crazy daydreams manifesting themselves into a hyper realistic fight. The only indication of reality was the pain shooting up and down your body as glass lodged deeper into your flesh and the heat of the explosions around you increased.
You winced with every movement and you knew if you could get to your feet you could get out.
“What are you doing here?” You had heard that voice before, not in person, but somewhere on television. The high-pitch of tech grated on your eardrums as the clank of metal meeting with tile followed behind in the song of cacophonic noises. Blurry eyed and rattled nerves forced you to take a second longer than usual to focus on who it was beside you. He— was that the real Iron Man?— was standing facing the now gaping hole where the windows used to be and yelling something you couldn’t quite hear over his suit firing down at those below. He looked back over once more to your fallen figure, “Can you run?”
“I…”
He snapped his head back towards the sound of an arrow whizzing by his body and over yours. “Hey, kid, can you do me a favor and pick up a straggler and get her out of here? By the flaming wing— Rhodey, watch your flank!— and be quick,” he shouted over the loud barrage of noises and you could only look on dumbstruck as he turned to look at you, “I need you to stay here. Don’t move, help’s on its way.”
“Tha…” The appreciation died on your lips as he igniting his boosters headed straight down below.
"You're coming with me, miss!" The reaction of scraping the ground with the tips of your chucks to find purchase had been instantaneous. Arms clung around your waist as you were hoisted almost effortlessly off the ground by some crimson 'hero'. A shriek left you and you clung to them so as to not fall to your death. "H-hey, uh, miss, you're kinda ch-choking me!"
—
Peter usually didn’t mind the fact that the people he nabbed up and rescued to safety clung to dear life as they swung through the air. For most, if not all, it was a sensation unnerving to begin with so it was understandable. He didn’t mind the brief moment of discomfort if it meant saving someone, but this girl was really redefining the death grip as her arms tightened around his neck.
Was also trying to wrap her legs in between his which was new for him and made landing safely very hard to do. When Peter had landed them far from the fighting and nearer to the exit, he realized she was not quick to letting go. He gently pried her arms away from his neck and moved her back by her shoulders, “You okay?”
She wavered and wobbled a little and scratches littered her cheeks, she had a far off look about her and he wasn’t sure that if he let go, she would be able to stand. When he did not get a response, Peter asked again, “Uh, miss? Are you alright?”
Her head lolled about before her gaze settled on him and she blinked hard, “I...I…”
He tried to give her a reassuring squeeze, but she furrowed her brows like he had hurt her. He promptly let go and she stumbled. Peter was quick on the catch as he frantically apologized. Mr. Stark was expecting him to be back soon, but he couldn’t just leave her there by herself. The sound of the fighting behind them was still ongoing and he needed to impress Tony if it meant that he might have a shot at helping more and more. “I, uh, I gotta help those guys out back there, are you going to be okay?”
“My..., my phone…”
He perked up at the sound, “Y-your phone? Did you, er, do you have your phone?”
“I...I dropped it...when the glass…” Her eyes began watering and he shook his head.
“H-hey, no, no, no, look it’s okay, I will be right back,” he moved back but her hands flew to his forearm. “I promise, okay? Just...just uh…” Think, think, think, Peter. “I’ll be back, like, like the Terminator except without all the — you know what I mean, er, okay?” He waited for a sign of acknowledgement on her end and when she gave a shaky nod, he was swinging himself back into the heat of the action. There was a guilty feeling inside of him that made him question whether he should have left her just standing there, but he really, really wanted to help Mr. Stark.
“Did you grab the girl, kid?”
“Uh, yeah, Mr. Stark, she’s outta harm’s way! Little shaken up is all,” he answered, narrowly avoiding a large chunk of metal whizzing through the air.
“Good work, kid, keep it up and you just might get your nametag soon.”
—
You should have never went back. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Your legs had given out what felt like hours ago and you just sat there behind an airport passenger staircase, hands in your lap. What little strength you had in you was spent up trying not to pass out from all that was happening around. Salt from your tears seeped into the cuts in your palms and you wanted to just start ripping pieces out. And you would have if it didn’t feel like razor blades slicing your tendons every time you flexed your hands.
You just wanted your parents…
“Oh my god, are you okay?!” The voice from earlier reached your ears, and you lazily lifted your puffy eyes towards the source. It was the same masked hero from before, limping and clutching at their side, but mostly and otherwise unharmed. You’d have smiled or hugged them or something if you could hoist yourself up, All the adrenaline from running away from the blasts had all but drained and all you could feel was pain.
“You came back…”
“I promised, didn’t I?” He winced as he spoke and your furrowed your brow. “Sorry it took so long, I-I had some stuff to take care of...” He leaned over and placed his hands on his thighs taking deep breaths. You took this opportunity to take in the appearance of your savior. An interesting choice.
You swallowed hard, finding your voice now becoming easier now that you weren’t in complete shock, “Are...you all right?”
“ Me? ” The white panels for eyes widened, his hand gesturing to your lap, “Just, er, a little sore, but I’m the hero. I got this,” he stood straight and tried to mask his limp from before as he came closer to you. The crimson hero bent down to one knee in front of you, “Doesn’t that hurt? That’s a lot of blood.”
“Well,” you sniffled, a little shocked he would have to asked something so obvious, “Y-yeah, there’s glass...in my hands and uh, everywhere…”
“I, uh, sorry I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that you probably hurt more— “
You blinked owlishly up at his face, “You’re an Avenger?”
“More or less, Avenger in-training— they kinda have their hands full right now…” An awkward silence ensued between the two of you and he stared at you, white panels whizzing in and out of focus. You blinked in quick succession, choking on your words, taken aback that you’d have to ask, “Can you help me get to my parents?”
“Right! Oh my god, sorry, I’m— I’m sorry, I just—”
“It’s okay, uh…” You left it open-ended and he finished the social mad lib.
“Oh! Right, uh, I’m Spider-man.”
You responded in kind with your own name and he nodded like he was testing out the sound in his head. His approach was slow and careful not to interfere with your wounds, as he helped you to your feet. “I’m gonna web you to me, since I can’t ask you to hold on. I’m sorry about your blouse…”
“My blouse?” You asked as a sticky webbing shot from his wrist and secured you tightly against him. The wince he let out did not go unnoticed. He was definitely more injured than he let on. Before you had the chance to apologize, he asked suddenly, “You’re not afraid of heights are you?”
“N-no.”
“Cool.”
A yelp escaped you as your feet left the ground, and one of his own arms wrapped around you, “I got you, don’t worry!” The wind in your whipping past your face as you found yourself swinging through the air with nothing but a guy in a morphsuit holding you with a mysterious sticky substance was doing nothing for your poor nerves. Scrambling for purchase of solidarity, you felt tears prick at your eyes as you unconsciously clenched your hands around the fabric of his costume. “Don’t look down, it’s easier that way!” He tried to calm you with advice. You could only wrap yourself onto him like a barnacle to the bottom of a ship.
“Please, don’t drop me!” You buried your face into his neck trying to close your eyes and imagining you were on a swing set or something less frightening than swinging through the air with no safety nets.
“I won’t! I promise I won’t let you go!” He said with confidence before adding, “But, maybe you could loosen up. It’s probably better I don’t pass out…”