Chapter Text
1.
Tony Stark, the Tony Stark wanted Peter to come to his personal lab. His lab- the same one Mark 42 was made in! The one the man presumably spent a majority of his waking hours in and Peter was happy for just two of those to spend with his new mentor. Peter had read all about the famous Tony Stark; graduating from MIT at nineteen, a playboy to the public eye and dating pools of not only women but men all the same. He’d read countless of articles exploiting the relationship between him and Colonel Rhodes. Peter was invested in that story, earning snorts and teasing from his aunt and uncle for a long time. He brushed it off and smiled because he remembers when Iron Man saved his life seven years ago, and then two years ago when Peter went to see him speak at an expo only two stops away from his apartment. He remembers just four months when the billionaire had offered to be his mentor in the first place- Peter hadn’t gotten his hopes too high then. He figured the man was just being polite and wouldn only yank Spider-Man back into the picture when he had to beat up more super people.
So, you could tell how absolutely thrilled Peter Parker was stepping into his idol’s lab. He couldn’t help his eyes from widening in awe or the twitching of his fingertips over the ash-colored countertops and the small bolts and scrap pieces laying around atop them.
“Close your mouth before you catch flies. Aunt Hottie doesn’t want me returning a juvenile venus fly trap.” Tony said, but not in the annoyance that Peter thought. When he turned to look at the man he has a small smile tugging at his lips that vanished when Peter was looked. He crossed his arms and pursed his lips.
“I want to thank you again for this opportunity, sir. It’s an honor.”
Tony let out a humorless laugh which confused Peter. “It’s nothing special, kid.” He paused to stroll towards what looks like a touch-screen piece of marble slab. A suit emerged, the same suit his mentor showed him when he offered him to join the Avengers and live in the exact tower he was standing in. “We have to make a few adjustments, and fix a few loose wires, if you’re up to it.”
Peter jerked his head in a nod, but scrunched his eyebrows uncomfortably. “With all due respect, Mr. Stark, but were you going to give me a suit that’s broken?”
Tony scoffed and shook his head at him. His lips were pursed and there was visible sweat on his forehead. Peter wanted to know why. He wanted to know every single thing in that man's brain, every secret he held. He wants the full experience but something tells Peter he'll have to be patient. Waiting isn't always the teenager's specialty, he'd proven that, but he was willing to wait for this.
“Not everything that needs to be fixed is broken, kid.”
2.
Spider-Man was stuck. Quite literally, to the side of a building in one of the roughest parts of Queens. An alleyway that Peter Parker avoided at all costs, but found himself near the area more and more when he threw on his mask at night.
Back to the situation at hand. Pet- no, Spider-Man was stuck to a tall ass building at night with no sign of prevail. He’d tugged on the restraints steadily, trying to work his strength into getting out. He was running out of time and options. May told him to specifically be home at eleven tonight and it was pushing close enough where he was beginning to panic.
“Karen, how long have we been here?” Peter panted, thrashing against the restraints. Man, that jackass really knew how to tie up a mutant with super strength because this shit would not budge.
She hummed to life in his ears. “Approximately twenty three minutes.”
“Twenty two minutes!” He repeated, feeling the veins in his arm pop at the strain. “Karen, how do I get outta here?”
“There seems to be no way to break the bonding without outside assistance. According to the Training Wheels Procotal I must alert Mr. Stark of this predicament. Would you like to send a message as well?”
“No, Karen! You can’t tell him please.” Peter wheezed, his mind floating back to the last time he was in trouble. They’d been on the roof and it ended up with Peter suitless and with a brand new pair of Hello Kitty pajama pants. It also resulted in a building being dropped among his shoulders and it was starting to make him claustrophobic. He felt his heart thrum at the connection and he had to will himself to stay as calm as possible.
That was impossible when he heard the Iron Man suit from five blocks away, Tony muttering inside it, something about ‘kids these days, can’t do normal shit like drugs and homework.’
Peter was absolutely wrecked when the suit came into view, his lungs crunch against the brick behind him and legs shaking. He neck ache from holding it up this long and his hair was sticking to his forehead under his mask by sheer sweat.
Coming closer, the face mask retracted and showed his mentor’s face in a dark smirk. “I see you’re in a sticky situation there, Mr. Parker. Care to share with the class, all eyes on you?”
Peter was not having it with the sarcasm and he choked, crying out helplessly. “Get me out, get me out please, I can’t- I can’t… please.”
Tony surged forward into a tumble Peter had never seen before, worry laced through his features as he brought out a small laser from his finger. It was a detail Peter had suggested, and at the moment Tony had chuckled and rolled his eyes, saying how he’d never need one. Thank every deity that Peter had pushed it until the man gave in. “Stay still, I’m going to get you out of this. Everything’s okay, just stay still.”
Peter willed his limbs to stop shaking and soon, Iron Man was dropping onto the ground with Spider-Man in his arms. Tony stepped out of the suit as soon as the blasters shut off and Peter was standing on his own, coughing with his hand planted on his knees.
“I guess that lecture can wait.” Tony mumbled, placing a steady hand on the teenager’s back. “Breathe, Peter. C’mon, I know you can. You never shut the hell up which means you can breath if you can talk.”
He didn’t know who the man was trying to convince, Peter or himself, but it seemed to be equally efficient because soon they were both standing awkwardly.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. For everything but I have to go, May’s probably waiting for me and it’s already past my curfew..”
Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder, but it was gone as soon as he’d felt it, warm and comforting. Peter noticed that his mentor wasn’t one for much physical contact. Sometimes their fingers or arms would brush, or Peter would run head-first into him and the billionaire would tense and ball his fists before straightening out. He would exhale, blink away the glassy look and wave off Peter’s profuse apologies ( “Geez, kid, calm down I’m not gonna get rid of you cause you tried holding my hand,” is what Tony always told him.)
“Skedaddle, Underoos. You know your way home from this lovely and fucking- this is disgusting , Peter.” His nose scrunched and he closed his eyes in repulsion. “You know your way home?”
Peter nodded slowly and quickly put in a new web canister. “Thanks again, Mr. Stark!”
The man groaned as Peter shot up into the air. “How many time I have to tell you? Call me Tony!”
“Bye, Mr. Stark!” Peter yelled back, ignoring the eye roll he most definitely received.
3.
It’s whatever, everything is whatever. Peter’s luck wasn’t turning anytime soon and he’d accepted the bad day as soon as May pounded on his door telling him he was late. He slept through all four of his alarms that were full proof to wake him up until this morning. When he got to school Ned texted him saying he’d be gone and MJ was nowhere to be found. Peter just shut his eyes and huffed out a breath when he heard Flash catcall him from across the hallway. He also found out he left his pre-calc homework on the floor of his bedroom. That means a) he would get no credit and b) he stayed up late for nothing. Right when he thinks it could only get better, it got even worse. Tomorrow was the one year anniversary of his uncle’s death, thinking about it makes him flinch and bite his tongue so hard he tastes blood. He tries to push that out, he can wallow tomorrow on the Saturday it fell on. Peter doesn't know if he can hold it together while his aunt hugs him and sobs like it happened yesterday, just like she had on every passing month-anniversary.
Maybe he isn’t in the right mind to be working with the chemicals of his webs, but he need to take his mind off everything. He bounced his leg on the stool and scribbles down formula after formula.
The mini-explosion he’d just caused confirmed his suspicion but he doesn’t even back away as the liquid splatters across the bench and his shirt. Peter hears Tony yelp in surprise and he barely feels calloused hands pulling off said shirt and pushing a sweatshirt in his arms.
“Ey!” Tony snaps, pushing a finger into Peter’s chest. “What did I say about working while spacey?”
Peter flicks his eyes away from the disappointed ones above him. “To not to.”
“Exactly.” He says, pulling Peter farther from the bench and up the spiral staircase. The hand on his shoulder blade is cold and grounding.
Peter feels numb. He can’t close his eyes without seeing the blood, god all that blood . On his hands, on the white tiles, on his cheeks and clothes. Ben’s last words echo in his head like a catchy radio song. He feels like he’s absolutely drowning in them, his search for salvation does him nothing.
He lets Tony push him into the couch forcefully, Peter can feel the annoyance in the gestre. “Tell me why you decide to step into my multi-million dollar lab sleepy, Parker.”’
Peter shutters and wraps his arms around himself. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again I promise. Don’t take the suit, please I just-”
“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Tony says, leaning forward to show that Peter has his full attention. “I’m not angry, maybe a little peeved that you were reckless, but it's nothing compared to what I did when I was your age.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “I just want to help you, kid. I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you.”
Peter sucks in a breath and his mouth goes dry. “A year ago tomorrow my Uncle Ben died. He died to p-protect me. He died when I had these p-powers and he… He’s gone because of me and my Aunt is sad because of me and I forgot my homework and life fucking sucks, Mr. Stark. It sucks.”
Tony softens and moves to sit next to Peter, placing a firm hand on his knee. “Look at me.”
Peter does through his wet eyelashes and blinks when his mentor quickly brushes away his tears. “I know, I know it seems like it sucks now. Trust me, kid. You just learned too soon that there’s people you can’t save, sometimes their the ones we can’t live without. But we do, and they would want us to. Ben would want you to.”
He sobs into his sleeves as the older man rubs his back gently. His cries are loud and the screaming-kind that gets you noise complaints.
“Thank you.” He cries, looking up through his wet lashes.
Tony smiles sadly. “You can always come to me, Pete. How about I drive you home and you can pick some nice flowers for your uncle. That okay with you?”
Peter nods.
4.
Peter sat with his legs against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around him. He barely heard the clicking of heels and stomping of the workers’ boots going in and out of the towers’ smallest living room. His head buzzed with what happened only a few short hours ago, how he screamed himself hoarse and nearly lost his balance which can’t even happen with his powers. He watched that boy, not even much younger than himself jump right from his seventeenth floor fire escape, the cold air whistling around him as his body plummeted. Peter heard his last words of course he did, but what he didn’t do was save him. If he’d been a little faster, gotten outside a little faster, had better relaxes that kid would be beating around in his arms and hating him for saving him. He could deal with someone hate him, he could fucking relate, but what he couldn’t deal with was hearing the kid’s name called. Watching as his mom went out on the escape herself and sobbed as she looked down, crying as she saw his son’s insides painting the snow on the ground. She looked around for remorse, gripping the ledge tightly and screaming.
Peter had turned away when his tears fell. He couldn’t look and he covered his ears as ambulance sirens rang through the streets. But Queens was too busy, and neglectful and selfish to see the dead child on it’s doorstep, they were too late. They were always a hair too late.
Peter let his forehead thump onto his knees, the discarded mask laying next to his feet. Karen told him about his multiple lacerations and that he would need stitches. She comforted him until he couldn’t take it, he almost shredded the mask with his bare hands and he threw it to the ground. If that boy didn’t get to be saved, neither did Peter. It was a simple logic and one he believed in completely. His brain chose to focus on that child’s last words, how a tear traveled down his dark skin. How his hair was cornrowed beautifully and and for the ends flopped around until they hit the ground, ending all of his motion. The words were clipped but his speech was quite long, they rang through Peter’s head over and over again.
“I’m sorry I didn’t wash the dishes, and all the times I made you come home from work because I missed you too much. Don’t do the same, yeah? Don’t forget to pick up Mo from practice and to pay the rent. Don’t forget that it’s not your fault. Dad left because of us, not you. I’m sorry, Mommy.”
Peter’s throat felt like it was closing and he didn’t even feel the couch dipping above him. He flinched away from the hand that landed in his hair and his face was uncharacteristically dry for the time he was having. He scrunched himself closer together until he was turned around with ease. He sat facing his mentor’s blank face and he couldn't meet the man’s eyes.
“Look at me, Parker.” Tony said sternly, his hand awkwardly reaching for Peter.
The boy shook his head and buried it deeper into his knees, the bones pressed into his scratch painfully. He supposes he deserves this pain. He deserves the disappointed look the billionaire is holing into his head and he deserves this suit taken away. Peter would strip right there and hand it over if his body wasn’t protesting movement. Spider-Man watched someone die, he watched a kid die. A kid that was loved, that thought everything was his fault. A kid with a mom and a sibling and a family. A teenage boy that was probably bottling up every feeling, every mean comment and displeasure until it burst. He died thinking he was nothing more than- well, nothing. He died alone and Peter could have stopped that.
Peter sobbed, finally letting his tears fall and travel down his spandex-covered legs. The hand in his hair was back again and his time he leaned into it. He cried until his lungs couldn’t anymore, until his body stopped shaking and he felt nothing.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s all okay. I know it hurts, I know.” Tony cooed sadly. “Let me help you. Tell me what happened and we can fix it.”
Peter snapped his head up and winiced and the drop of blood he could feel mixing with the wetness on his cheeks. “You can’t fixed it! I let someone d-die, Tony! He died because of m-me.”
His mentor looked taken back, his hand paused only for a minute before he placed the other under Peter’s chin. He didn’t talk until Peter tentatively looked into his dark eyes. “You can’t save everyone.”
Peter hunched over in what felt like a sob, but no tears came out. “I should have saved him.” He said bitterly, looking away. “I could have, but I didn- I wasn’t fast enough.”
Tony ran a gentle thumb above the deep cut across scathing his brow. “Like I said, you can’t save everyone.”
Peter shook his head, the hand on his face retracting at the motion. He pressed his lips together because he couldn’t bare saying it again as Tony pulled him onto the couch. He let his head roll limp on the older man’s shoulder and he cried again. He cried softly as Tony rubbed his hand and whispered soothing words to him. He tucked Peter under his arm and took a breath. He couldn’t help but notice how tense his mentor was, how fast his heart was beating and how his hand was twitching whenever Peter let out a loud cry.
“Baby, don’t cry.” Tony would say tenderly and quietly, like he didn’t want anyone to even hear it. “It’s not your fault, it’s not.”
Peter didn’t nod, just let his breathing even out until he was exhausted. He let his eyes close until his mentor stood carefully, shaking his shoulders as he went. “Gotta get you cleaned up, Pep would kill me if I got blood on this couch.”
Peter flinched up, his guilt making his scurry to his weak feet. “Sorry, sir. I forgot.”
Tony snorted and put a calming hand on his back. “Forgot you were bleeding profusely from you head? S’alright.”
Together they walked into one of the multiple kitchens and Peter hopped onto the counter. This time Tony didn’t groan, didn’t yell about how his food would ‘taste like spider ass’ and just took a deep breath. By the time they were done Peter was about to fall over from how tired he was. So, he let his mentor guide (read as: carefully drag) him to an empty guest room and lay (read as: shove) him under the thick duvet. Peter let himself giggle as Tony’s lips pressed into his hair as quick as they left. He missed their banter as soon as the door creaked shut but didn’t have the strength to find the man again.
Peter stares at the ceiling as his head paints the picture of that blood on the snow, the deadly contrast flooding his thoughts.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, I know it hurts.”
And it does, but Peter supposes, he can’t save everybody.
5.
It’s winter, and lets just say the common fact: spider’s fucking die in the winter. They hole themselves up and hibernate into the sweet release of death that Peter Parker really doesn’t want to deal with. His aunt has too much on her plate to deal with a lethargy spider-kid freezing to death on her couch.
So he goes to the tower and tell May he has to stay for the weekend to make his suit safer. She agrees under the promise she’ll get a call every night. Happy drives him there, humming contentedly that Peter isn’t talking. In his daze he still doesn’t miss the blink of concern as Peter stumbles inside the doors.
Everything is foggy, his vision is blurry and he trips over his feet.
“Woah!” Tony says, pulling him up by under his arms. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from my favorite teenage vigilante? Are you on drugs? You know you could come by when you’re not in distress more often because I’m starting to believe fully that it’s your only setting.”
When Peter doesn’t answer, the man grumbles and pushes him at a couch. He flops down with no regard but crumples against the soft warmth. It’s not enough, but it’s more than what he was getting initially. His body was twitching to get into the high ground like a corner, but Peter’s smarter than that. The second he steps into that darkness he may not come out, and Tony would be pissed.
“Really kid, you alright?” Tony asks, sitting down next to him.
Peter manages two words and feels even more exhausted afterward. “Spider’s hibernate.”
He misses how Tony’s eyes widen but he feels hands on his face and he snuggles into them. Score! Face heater!
Peter presses them to his face harder and lets his eyes flutter close under the warmth. He sighs and cuddles closer and forces himself into his mentor. He can deal with the embarrassment later, right now he need to heat up.
Tony’s arms gingerly wrap around Peter like he’s going to break. The teenager presses his cheek to the man’s sweater and smiles.
“It’s kinda creepy that you aren’t shivering, you know that?” Tony grumbles but nonetheless, rubs Peter’s back to further thaw the child.
Peter lets out a small huff of breath meant to be a laugh. “Spiders don’t shiver, they die.”
Tony nods and shrugs. “That’s fair.” He tightens his grip nonchalantly. “I feel like I’m holding a piece of ice.”
This time, Peter does chuckle. “Well, I feel like an ice cube.”
+1
Peter knows he’s fucked. Everything went wrong, wronger than it should have. Is ‘wronger’ even a word? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t dwell on it too hard. After all, he’s dying.
Peter can feel it.
Peter’s body is on overdrive trying to stitch itself back together and make the blood stop oozing from the three gunshot wounds.
He wonder why they had to shoot him three times. One would have been enough. T’s lodged in his chest, he can feel his heart pulsing around it. He can hear the skin being ripped and repaired just enough to keep him alive.
Peter keeps his eyes on the sky.
“Karen, call Mr. Stark.” He wheezes.
“Calling Tony Stark.” She responds. He ignore the worry in the Al’s tone and only waits two rings before the man picks up.
“Hey, kiddo!” Tony says happily. “I was just about to call you actually. Wanted you to come upstate this weekend. How ‘bout it? I know you’ve been wanting to go, just cleared it with Aunt Hottie, too.” Peter lets out a shaky breath and he can hear Tony’s heart skip a beat. “What’s going on, kid? You alright?”
Peter wheezes on a cry. “I don’t think…” He catches his breath. “I’m gonna make it upstate, Misser Stark.”
“Stay on the line, Pete. Don’t close your eyes, I’m coming. I’m on my way, eyes open, alright?”
Peter can already hear the suit forming around his mentor’s body and he tries to imagine it. He thoughts are blurring and he tries to focus. “I don’t want to die, Mr. Stark.”
“You’re not dying, eyes open, remember?” Tony is breathless on the line, Peter can tell he’s flying.
Peter nods. “Tell May…” He breathes. “Ya’know.”
“Nope. ” Tony pops. He tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to hurry it up, shooting further among the clouds. “Tell her yourself. Eyes on the sky, tell me when you see me, okay?”
Peter can feel the tears under his mask beginning to form as his body is slowing down. “Sky’s pretty today, Misser S’ark… Real pretty.”
“Yeah, it is.” Tony agrees frantically. “Keep looking at it. Tell me what shapes you see.”
The man can’t see him but he nods. Peter opens his mouth but nothing comes out. No air comes back in and he lets himself fade into the blue of the sky.
“Peter!” Tony yells. “Peter, eyes open, I’m almost there. Just a little longer, eyes open!”
Peter’s eyes are open and he finally manages to breathe. “I miss the stars… They’re pretty too, sir.”
“I know they are, how about to keep looking for ‘em. Eyes open, are they still open?”
Peter pants out a laugh. “Course, Misser S’ar.” He coughs. “Open eyes, pretty skies.”
Tony sighs but it sounds like he’s choking. “Yeah kid, do you see clouds?”
Peter closes his eyes. “Just the sky.”
His chest won’t raise again, but he’s beyond panicking. Peter’s heart hurts at his mentor’s words, knowing he can’t answer. Knowing he’ll never see him again, never see May or Ned again. At least he has the sky. He think maybe he’ll be a star, or an angel. Here’s to hoping. Peter knows it’s naive, it’s childish.
“Peter!”
It’s said a hundred more times, but Peter can’t breathe and his eyes won’t open and his fingers won’t move. His body won’t work so he soothes himself with memories of the sky and the stars.