Chapter Text
Gunshots bounced off nearby buildings as Doctor Octavius tried to injure the man in the red and blue spandex suit.
“Watch where you point that thing!” Spider-Man quipped, twisting mid-air to dodge the bullets. “You could’ve shot me!”
This earned him an angry low growl as the super-villain lunged at him. Spidey jumped over his head and flailing robotic limbs, landing on his back and immediately punched him. He backflipped off as the man stumbled forwards, catching himself with his his metallic arms.
The villain spoke without facing Spider-Man. “Give up now, Spider-Man, and I might let you live.” He turned to the young hero who stood panting a few meters away.
The arachnid crossed his arms. “Look, man. As fun as that sounds, I've got five bucks in my pocket and a hot dog not too far from here with my name on it. I will not leave this life with and empty stomach.” Said stomach growled in agreement.
Doc. Oct smiled sickly. “Alright,” He said, taking a few slow steps back. “I'm sure someone else will be joyed to take your place then.” He turned towards the crowd of onlookers and cops, sprinting to the nearest.
Spider-Man’s lenses widened as he realized what was happening, and he jumped forwards, sprinting to catch up with the villain.
Doc. Oct smirked as one of his metallic arms reached down to snatch his victim, a young police officer trying to scramble to safety.
Bullets from law enforcement ricochet off of his metallic arms and the young man cried out as the arm almost touched him.
A red and blue blur jumped in front of him, the grey claws wrapping around Spider-Man’s torso. He let out a high pitched whine as they squeezed, black dots dancing in his vision and a pounding in his head.
He weakly turned to look at the police officer, who stood frozen behind him. “Where’re the Aveng’rs when ya need ‘em, am I right?”
He was suddenly pulled up into the sky, then slammed into the pavement, creating a Spidey-shaped crater.
He wheezed when the claws retracted. “Man, that's gonna hurt tomorrow.” He mumbled, trying to get air into his lungs.
Doc. Oct stalked towards him, his back turned away from the crowd. Spider-Man weakly raised a hand from his lying position. “T-time out. Give me a minute, alright? Be r-right with ya.”
The villain ignored him as he stepped on the hero with one of his arms, or legs, Spidey couldn't decide which, and pressed down. Hard.
New York was oddly quiet as their hero was pressed into the concrete, his ribs cracking, and a loud broken cry escaping him.
Doc. Oct sneered at the fallen man, leaning over him, way too close for Peter’s comfort. “I quite like you like this, Spider-Man.” He spit out the name in disgust.
Peter only coughed in response, a metallic taste entering his mouth as he writhed and kicked weakly at the giant weight, his hands clawing randomly at the metal holding him down.
“All bloodied, broken, a squirming mess.” He emphasised by pushing harder, deepening the crater.
“Stop!” Spidey’s voice cracked as the word involuntarily slipped out. The crowd behind them flinched at the broken cry, but Doctor Octavius’ smile only grew.
“Didn't take long for you to start begging, now did it?” Spider-Man coughed again, the blood pooling in his mouth, choking him.
His lungs couldn't expand, most of his ribs were broken, and his mind became fuzzy, his vision blurring at the edges. The pain in his whole body pulsed to his heartbeat, pounding in his head. He felt himself losing consciousness at the evil grin began to fade into darkness.
They stayed like that, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly, a loud ‘BANG’ sounded, and the villain jumped, crying out in pain.
The pressure lifted off his chest as Doc. Oct stepped back.
He looked at the red spot blooming on his shoulder, then at the police officer with his handgun still raised, the same one Spider-Man saved.
He sneered and turned, using his metal arms to run away.
The crowd seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief until all eyes fell on their hero, still lying on the ground.
The claws were gone, Peter knew that.
So why couldn't he breathe?
Unconsciousness seeped closer, and he could vaguely see the same young officer from before hovering over him.
Peter had to breathe, he had to, but his body wouldn't let him.
The cop’s hands prodded at his chest, and he curled in on himself in pain, wrapping his arms around his chest protectively. “Hey, hey, Spidey, look at me, you need help, can you hear me? You need help.”
The voice above him said, but it went in one ear and straight out the other.
The cop look up at the silent crowd. “I need a doctor!” He shouted.
For a few moments, he got no response. Then, a middle aged man stepped out of the crowd and ran to his side.
“I'm a doctor.” He said as he turned Spider-Man onto his back.
The man tried to pry his arms away from his body, but white hot pain shot throughout his body, and Peter lashed his arm out, hitting the man across the chest.
The Doctor fell onto his back and groaned, and that sound seemed to ground Peter for a second.
He opened his eyes to see the doctor getting back up, rubbing his chest. He had hit the man, he realized in horror.
“Oh my god, oh my god i'm so sorry, i- oh my god i hit you i'm so sorry i'm sorry-” His pulse quickened dramatically and his rambling was cut short by a sob ripping from his throat.
“Shhh, I'm alright son, i'm ok. I need you to breathe, ok? Breathe with me now. In… and out. In… and out.”
Peter uncurled himself and laid on his back, his body shaking with gasps and sobs.
What was happening to him? Maybe his insomnia and anxiety, plus his current exhaustion, were catching up to him.
He took deep shaky breaths in time with the doctor, his heart rate slowing gradually.
The doctor nodded in approval. “Good, good.” He looked up at the young cop. “Has anyone called an ambulance? We can't move him without risking further injuries.”
The man nodded. “The entire fight was on live tv, a lot of people called. The ambulance should be here any minute now.”
He looked up at the large screens mounted on the buildings, all showing them trying to help their hero.
He looked back down at the doctor. “Maybe we should get them out of here?”
The doctor shook his head. “It would cause too much commotion. No time.”
Peter must have closed his eyes, the lenses on his mask following, because something smacked him hard across his face.
His eyes snapped open and he gasped in surprise, seeing the doctor’s blurry face hovering over him. “Hey, no sleeping. You need to stay awake, you hear me? You n-”
A flash of pain shot from his chest and he cried out, balling his fists and slamming his head into the concrete. The pain in the back of his head seemed to keep him from floating away, so he repeated the action.
He was about to do it again when a hand pushed his forehead to the ground. Strong, but gentle. “Spider-Man, stop!”
The doctor stood after a moment and faced the police officer. “I need my emergency kit from my car. Keep him still and keep him from sleeping until I get back.”
The cop nodded, and the doctor sprinted away into the crowd. Peter whimpered loudly, digging the heels of his boots into the edges of the crater.
The cop kneeled beside him, and began talking to himself. “Ok, ok. So we’re gonna wait for the Doctor to come back, keep him still, keep him awake. Oh man, is that blood? There’s blood coming from your face.”
He swiped a finger on the chin of Peter’s mask, making the vigilante flinch away. He didn't like anyone touching his mask. Especially the law.
“The ambulance will be here soon, they’re gonna wanna take a look at that. But for that they need to see your face. Oh my god, they’re going to unmask you.” The young man gasped in realization.
Peter’s eyes widened at his words. They can't take off his mask. They can't know who he is. He has people to protect. Gwen. Aunt May.
He groaned, trying to push himself up and scramble away, but he was unable to. “Shoot, don't do that.” The cop’s hands pressed down on his shoulders.
“N-ng,” He weakly struggled under the pressure. “M-sk.”
The officer shook his head. “I can't understand you. Stop moving.”
Fear ran through his veins as he pushed himself up to his elbows. He made it halfway up before collapsing back down, jostling his injuries.
Crying out in pain, he curled onto his side.
He had to get up. He had to get away before they took off his mask.
He took a steadying breath, then another one, before rolling on his stomach and pushing himself up.
The pain almost made him lose consciousness as he screamed, stumbling a few steps.
The young officer stood there gaping, then rushed to his side, trying to push him back down.
“Spidey, Lay down! You’re hurting yourself!” Some people shouted the same thing from the crowd, but Peter couldn't hear them.
He had to get away.
He half jogged, half dragged himself to the nearest building on his violently shaking legs.
Though he was injured, he was still faster than the average human.
He ran to the glass door and threw his body weight into it, shattering the glass. He fell to the floor with a cry, but immediately scrambled back up.
The crowd behind him began to shout and rush forwards, barely being held back by the line of law enforcement.
He ignored the shouts from the young cop, who was sprinting towards him, and he ran across the floor.
He slammed into the wall by the elevator and punched the up arrow.
After an antagonizing second, the doors slid open and he threw himself inside. He hit the button for the top floor weakly over and over again.
Glancing out, he saw the cop and the doctor, who had returned just a second before and was holding a suitcase, rushing towards him.
He felt panic rise and let out a sob as the doors slid closed way too slowly.
There was barely six inches open when the doctor’s hands reached the door, taking both and prying them apart.
Peter fell to the floor and scrambled to the farthest corner, gasping and whimpering as tears soaked his mask.
The doors opened and slid closed as the doctor and cop stepped inside. They both stared at him from the other side of the elevator, the only sound being Peter’s frantic sobs and gasps.
The doctor then kneeled slowly, holding out his hands in a nonthreatening manner.
“Hey,” He started with a smooth and gentle voice. “It's alright, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re trying to help. You need to let us help.”
He turned to his suitcase and opened it. After a few seconds, he pulled out a syringe filled with a clear liquid. He faced Peter again.
“This won't hurt, ok? It's just going to ease your pain.” He took a cautious step forwards, but Peter couldn't stop himself from tensing and letting out a small whimper.
This didn't faze the doctor though, as he kneeled back down beside him. Peter squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the needle enter his arm.
A second later it was out, and he could already feel it taking effect. The pains in his body become dull throbbings and he let out a sigh.
“There. Feel better?” Peter opened his eyes and nodded hesitantly.
“Th-thanks.” He rasped out, just now realizing how thirsty he was. The doctor must have read his mind, because he went back to his suitcase and took out a bottle of water.
He offered it to the hero, who took it with shaky hands. He placed it between his legs, which were now spread out in front of him, and slowly pulled his mask up and over his mouth to rest on the bridge of his nose.
He twisted the cap off and took a few sips before setting it down again. He looked up at the two men to thank them, but shut his mouth when he saw their wide-eyed expressions.
“W-what?” He asked, panic settling back in.
The officer’s jaw set and he took a threatening step forwards, hand outstretched to Peter’s head, but the doctor grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
Peter’ eyes widened in realization and he scrambled to pull his mask back down.
The cop looked angry almost, if it wasn't for the sadness and disbelief in his eyes. The doctor just looked sad.
“Son,” He sighed and shook his head. “How old are you?” Peter’s breaths came out faster.
“Don't have to tell you,” He snapped, curling in on himself.
The rest of the ride up was awkward and filled with tension as the doctor and the cop stared at Peter, who fidgeted with the bottle cap.
They reached the top and the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open.
The officer held the doors open as the doctor helped Peter stand and walk onto the roof. They set him down against a wooden crate, kneeling beside him.
The doctor took out his phone and dialed a number. “W-who’re you callin’?” Peter asked, his words slurring a bit as he felt the world begin to fade again, this time from exhaustion.
The doctor brought the phone up to his ear and ignored the question. “Hello? Yes, it's me Tony. I told you don't call me that. I know but- will you shut up and listen to me? Thank you. Are you watching the news? Well, he's here with me at the top of a building. I know that was stupid, you can tell him that yourself. We need medical attention and the Tower is the safest place right now. What? Tony, i'm not picking up strays again, stop saying that. You need to get here ASAP. Yep, See ya in a few.”
He hung up and pocketed the phone. Peter and the cop gave him confused looks and he sighed, shaking his head.
“Just… don't freak out when he gets here. Please?”
He was answered with silence and he sighed again, sitting against the crate beside Peter.
Peter felt like he was spinning, and his head lolled to the side, embarrassingly landing on the doctor’s shoulder.
He jerked it away quickly, earning a chuckle from the doctor. “Try to stay awake, please.”
He dug his fingers into his side, the pain grounding him, but his hand was immediately pulled away.
“Aaaand that is not how we stay awake.” The doctor said, still holding Peter’s hand.
Peter looked down at their hands and pointed with his other. “That's v’ry weird, ya know,” He slurred, and the doctor let go.
He couldn't help but feel disappointed at the loss.
He sighed and slumped further down. The cop was pacing a few feet away, deep in thought.
He looked at the doctor, who was searching the horizon for something. Weird.
He clumsily poked the doctors chest, and the man turned to look at him.
“I like ya.” He said. “‘n you look famili’r. Do I know you?”
The doctor looked surprised for a second. “My name’s Bruce Banner if that helps.” He answered, and Peter’s eyes widened.
“Ooooohhhhhh! Y-you wrote th-that… that… um… i can't rememb’r. I rememb’r likin’ it though.” Bruce snorted at that, and Peter continued.
“Anyhoo, thanks for savin’ me back there. I almos’ became Spid’r-Pancake.”
Banner shook his head, smiling. “Do you always talk this much, Spidey?”
Peter nodded vigorously, but stopped, a wave of vertigo washing over him.
Banner laughed again. Once the nausea stopped, Peter spoke again, much to the doctors amusement.
“I c’n almost see t’morrowz headlines: Bruce Banter saves Pe-”
He froze suddenly, letting out a small ‘oops’ and a giggle.
Banners brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” He asked.
Peter swayed suddenly, landing once again on the man's shoulder, but making no move to get off.
“I alm’st told ya my name.”
He looked into Banners eyes, dead serious.
“‘n you c’n’t know my name.”
“Why not?” Banner asked, now curious. Peter began to tap his foot as he answered.
“Oh, ‘cuz I got fam’ly. A big ‘ne. We take up alotta space, all two of us. Gotta prot’ct.”
He mumbled the last part, his eyes feeling heavy.
“One of your parents is dead?” Banner asked, mentally slapping himself for his bluntness.
Peter shook his head, yawning wide. “Ooohh, who needs par’nts? I got May. oh, but Gwen has par’nts. I met ‘em once.”
Peter had his full weight on Banner’s shoulder, but slid down his chest onto his lap.
“Oops, s’rry.” He apologized as he tried to push himself up, but finding he was unable to.
“Welp, this is embarassin’.” He sighed as he dropped back down onto his lap.
Bruce chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing in small circles.
“Who’s Gwen?” He asked, feeling a strange fondness for the young vigilante.
Peter let out a dreamy sigh. “Gwen’s my girlfriend. My angel. Luv of my life.”
Banner smiled. “Where’s she from?” He asked.
Peter yawned again and subconsciously snuggled further into the man’s lap.
“Heav’n.” He mumbled, finally closing his eyes.
“Spidey?” Bruce shook the shoulder his hand was on, and Peter groaned. “Come on Spider-Man, you gotta stay awake for me.”
Peter let out a high pitch whine and shook his head weakly.
Banner stood and pulled Peter up with him, supporting most of his weight, which is to say, not much, Bruce noticed.
“Come on, walk around a bit. Hey,” He called over the cop, who was watching the two from a distance. “Gimme the water bottle, please.”
The officer grabbed it from the ground and passed it to him.
Bruce opened it and poured it on Peter’s head, who gasped and spluttered awake.
A loud thruster sound made the three on the roof turn their heads.
A red and gold suit landed on the edge of the roof.
Peter’s breath hitched, his eyes wide as all the pieces snapped into place.
Bruce Banner called Tony.
Bruce Banner the Avenger called Tony Stark.
Bruce Banner the Avenger called Tony-Freaking-Stark.
The man walked forwards, his faceplate sliding away.
“Found another one, haven't you Brucie.”
Banner sighed and readjusted his grip around Peter, accidentally brushing his side and making him whimper and jerk. “Sorry, sorry.”
He turned back towards Iron Man and glared.
“He’s a human, Tony, not a dog. Now I asked you to take him to the Tower, not chit-chat. He’s probably internally bleeding as we speak.”
Stark shrugged and stepped forwards, robotic hands outstretched. “Hand him over then.”
Banner took a step forwards, but was jerked back when Peter stood stuck in place. “What the-”
He tried pulling him again, but the kid used his powers to stick to the ground.
He shook his head and took a step back. “I'm- i'm not goin’.”
Banner sighed and gave him a stern look.
“Yes, you are. For all we know you could be dying on your feet, and we’re wasting time.”
He pushed Peter forwards, and he stumbled into Iron Man’s chest, being immediately wrapped in his metal arms.
Panic bubbled in his chest as he jerked backward, trying to step out of the hold. The suit didn't budge an inch.
He continued to struggle as Stark’s faceplate slipped back into place, the eyes glowing. “I'll get the bugger to the Tower, Banner, don't worry.”
Peter growled and pushed the suit with all his strength, sending them both backwards.
Right over the edge of the roof.
The arms let go of him in favor of flying, and Peter freefell.
He shot a web towards the edge of the building, but in his dierious state, he missed entirely.
‘This is it,’ He thought to himself as he fell, almost in slow motion. ‘I die as Spider-Pancake.’
Suddenly, he was hit in the side by a giant metal blur and caught mid-air. The impact made him cry out in pain, and the arms wrapped around him again.
This time, he was too weak to fight back, his vision quickly fading into nothing.
The last thing he heard was Iron Man’s robotic voice. “You’re even crazier in person, Webs. Shorter, too.”