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It’s been a long, successful day of swinging around as Queens’ friendly neighborhood Spider-man. Peter had stopped a robbery, helped a struggling elderly woman across a parking lot to her car, guided a lost and crying boy back to his mother in the park, and had even swung in the way of an impending car crash and stopped a city bus from making a compressed soda can out of a yellow cab. He’ll definitely be front page in the morning for that one.
Now, he’s relaxing. He’s sitting at the top of a fire escape of an apartment building and watching the sunset over Queens while enjoying the warm air. The window beneath him is open, and someone has a peaceful classic rock playlist going that he’s listening along to. He had swung up to this rooftop when he heard the last crooning lines of "Wild Horses" by The Rolling Stones filtering out over the street and had settled in to see what would follow. So far, he’s been here for "Love of my Life" by Queen, "Starman" by David Bowie, and now The Beatles’ "Hey Jude". He’s swinging his legs and smiling, quietly singing along to the ‘nananana’s as they slowly fade out. It’s the calmest he’s felt in a long time, and he wants it to last.
The next song starts playing, and Peter doesn’t recognize it at first. It’s an acoustic guitar, and it’s familiar, but his mind won’t conjure the name or the artist for him as he listens, his eyes on the clouds painted gold above himself. Soon enough, the voice starts singing, and Peter’s brow furrows a bit. He knows this song.
“I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment’s gone.”
The back of his neck tingles a little bit, and he suddenly has the feeling that he needs to get out of here, but why? This latest flare of his spidey sense feels strangely empty. Usually there’s a source that he can pinpoint, a knowledge of the location of the danger, but none comes. He sits up a bit more nonetheless.
“All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity.”
He knows this song. Peter jumps to his feet as his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach.
“Dust in the wind.”
He blinks rapidly and looks around. He can’t stay here. He can’t listen to this, can’t hear those words.
“All we are is dust in the wind.”
Peter whips a web at the neighboring rooftop and leaps. His heart is pounding, and his breaths are coming short and fast. He has to get away. He runs across the roof, then shoots another web and jumps again, continues farther, and upwards. With his enhanced senses, he can still hear the song clearly, even this far away now. He needs to keep going. Another web, another leap.
“Peter.” Karen’s voice sounds in his ears as he swings through the air and around a few more buildings. “You appear to be in distress.”
“I’m fine,” Peter gasps back. He keeps going, trying to get as far away as he can.
His feet land on another rooftop, but he stumbles a bit, and a jolt of panic stabs through his abdomen. His legs are disintegrating, atoms coming apart, drifting away into space. Peter shakes his head as he takes a few more unsteady steps forward, towards the center of the roof. He needs to go. Mr. Stark, I don’t want to go.
“Your breathing and heart rates are rising rapidly,” Karen chimes in his ears. “Shall I call Mr. Stark?”
“No,” Peter gasps. “No, no no no no. I’m fine, Karen. I just-” Peter gasps again. He can’t get enough air, and he almost rips the mask off, but he’s still in public and not entirely sure what this building is that he’s stopped on, so he can’t risk the chance of being seen. Instead he lets his knees finally buckle, and he lands hard on them. One palm lies flat on the surface of the rooftop to brace himself and remain sitting upright, while his other goes to his chest, over his frantic heart. He can still hear the music in the distance.
He feels the same as he did on Titan. Something inside him… unlatches. Lets go. He’s sliding apart on a molecular level, and god, it hurts. He feels unstable, and he’s terrified to move because he might disintegrate completely. His fingertips are tingling, and he’s so terrified that he almost stops breathing, because it’s happening. He’s turning to dust all over again.
“Mr. Stark is on his way.” Karen’s voice cuts through Peter’s haze of panic like a knife and makes him jump in surprise. Then the meaning of her words hits, and he starts reeling.
“What? No, Karen, I told you-” He cuts off with a gasp, which is followed by a few more. “Told you not to call him.” His eyes squeeze shut. He’s trembling. No, it’s the movement of his cells as they unlock and start to separate.
“Your commands have been overridden by my protocols, due to your current vital readings. Arrival time estimated to be less than a minute.”
His current vital readings. So, he is dying. Peter shifts his posture to draw his legs out from underneath himself and falls back onto his butt, then pulls one knee in close to his chest as his other stretches out. His right hand remains pressed to his heart while his other grips his shin miserably. Both are shaking horribly. He wants to cry; maybe he already is.
He’s going to die again. And Tony gets to witness it. Again.
The sound of the Iron Man thrusters soon overpowers the sound of that damn song, and they only grow closer and louder. Almost too loud. Peter shrinks into himself even more and ducks his chin until his forehead presses to his knee through the mask. It just makes it even harder to breathe, but he doesn’t move back.
The feet of the suit connect with the rooftop in a metallic thunk that makes Peter cringe into himself as he continues to gasp. He hears the metal retract, back into the chest piece, and then swift footsteps approaching accompanied by quickened breathing, but not quite as desperate as his own.
“Kid.” Tony’s voice is hushed and anxious, almost uncertain. “Peter, what happened?”
He’s very close to him, then, and Peter realizes that the man has knelt in front of him. A warm, solid hand folds around Peter’s forearm where it wraps around his leg, and it breaks Peter’s resolve to remain curled into himself. The hand at his chest darts forward to latch onto Tony’s wrist and tugs him closer as he sits up straighter. He blinks at Tony’s face through the mask as his breathing grows ever more shallow and desperate.
“Woah. Okay, okay, relax, Pete.” Tony’s eyes are searching him and running over the suit for signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Peter shuts his eyes again. His chest is burning, and his lungs feel weak. They’re going to fall apart. “I- I can’t-” Another gasp. “I don’t- don’t know what’s- happening.” Although he does. It’s the same thing all over again. Titan.
“Karen alerted me that you’re having a panic attack.” Tony sounds far too calm about this.
Peter shakes his head vigorously. That’s not it. He’s panicking because he’s going to die. “I can’t breathe.”
“Then how about we get the mask off? Might make it easier.”
A second later, Tony’s fingers are at the hem of the mask, tugging it up over his chin. Peter could stop him easily, but he lets him, and the lights and sounds of the city are suddenly back in full force, but so is the evening breeze that cools his flushed cheeks and fills his lungs. It makes him feel minutely better as far as breathing goes, but it also makes him feel exposed, like he’s lost a bit of binding that’s going to help keep him together. His eyes snap open to stare in terror at Tony’s face in front of him. He realizes that he has tears brimming as he meets Tony’s concerned gaze.
“You need to take some deeper breaths, Pete,” Tony urges. “You’re okay.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter pleads, as he feels the shift in his body. Everything is loose. Crumbling apart. He’s going to disappear, too.
“You’re okay,” Tony tells him. His voice isn’t reassuring, though. It’s tired.
Flat.
Helpless.
Scared.
Peter stumbles towards him anyway.
“No,” Peter protests. He pants a few times, and his hand crawls farther up Tony’s arm to grip his bicep just above the elbow. Tony shifts forward to accommodate him as Peter searches for something solid that he can hold onto, to keep from disintegrating again. “I’m dying,” Peter chokes desperately.
“No. No, Peter, you’re not. You’re not dying.” Tony’s voice is firm but remains at a low tone when Peter starts reeling again. “It’s anxiety. You’re not dying; is he, FRIDAY?”
“No, Boss,” the light Irish voice answers from somewhere on Tony’s person.
“See? Not dying,” Tony repeats. “It’s a bad panic attack. Possibly a flashback from the way you’re acting. You’re going to be fine.”
Peter shakes his head and closes his eyes. The action causes the tears to finally spill over and roll down his cheeks. “Mr. Stark,” he cries.
“It’s okay,” Tony is quick to soothe. Tony’s leg suddenly bumps Peter’s, and he realizes that he’s moving even closer to him now. Peter’s hand leaves his chest and fumbles forward until it’s met by Tony’s own, which grips him back firmly and grounds him. “Deep breaths, kid. You just have to breathe, okay? You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
He’s safe. Mr. Stark is here. Tony has him. Maybe he’s right; maybe he isn’t really dying? He’s not convinced, but he wants to trust him, so he decides to try breathing and see what it does for him. He struggles to draw one breath that fills his lungs completely. Then another. And another.
“There you go.” Tony’s hand soothes up and down Peter’s forearm through the suit. “Coming back to me now?”
He actually is a little bit. Finally having some air is clearing his head, and he can work from there. Peter starts up a silent mantra, reminding himself that he is safe, that he’s not on that planet anymore, that Tony is right here, and he’s going to be okay. His eyes blink open once more so that he can meet Tony’s eyes again. He finds them to still be worried and watching him closely.
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, because of course he would. His gut is still twisting, this time with guilt over causing his mentor so much concern and making him come here.
“None of that. You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Tony’s hands squeeze gently to reassure him, and it eases the tightness in his chest just a bit more. “But what happened, bud? What caused this?”
Peter hesitates for a moment, but then he draws a breath. “The music,” he manages to choke out.
Tony falters as confusion dominates for a moment. “Music? What music? I don’t hear anything. Where?”
“Seven blocks that way.” Peter pulls his hand from Tony’s and points. “I can still hear it.”
Tony seems simultaneously impressed and disturbed by this information. “What song- Is it still bothering you?”
Peter shakes his head tiredly. “I’m fine. Different song now: "Hotel California", by the Eagles.”
“Good song.”
Peter just hums as he closes his eyes again and dips his head forward. His breaths are still a little unsteady, but the blind panic has subsided, and his heart is calming down as well. The binding of his cell walls feels a little more secure. “It- it felt like it was happening again, Mr. Stark,” Peter admits, and he lifts his eyes again to meet his mentor’s gaze as he says it. “Like- what happened on- on Titan. I thought-” Peter draws a breath and bites his lip.
“Hey, hey.” Tony waves his hand in front of himself as he shakes his head. Obviously, he wants to defuse the situation before Peter gets himself worked up again. “You’re not there anymore. You’re safe. I got you back.” Peter manages a watery smile at that. “That purple dick-chin is gone, and he’s never coming back. You-” Tony pauses and reaches out to rub both his hands down Peter’s upper arms, causing him to lean towards his mentor more. Tony’s eyes are lowered as he continues, but it doesn’t make his words mean any less. “You’re solid, and you’re here, and you’re not going anywhere.”
And Peter feels safe. Actually, finally safe, and whole, and secure. Not at all like that song would have him otherwise believe.
“What if it happens again?” Peter asks quietly, though he waves a hand around them to indicate that he’s speaking about the current situation, rather than what had happened before.
“Then you just call me, and we’ll work through it together, just like we did today. Doesn’t matter time or place. If you’re feeling bad, don’t keep it from me, otherwise I can’t help.”
Peter nods. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter’s voice is breathy and tired, and his shoulders are slumping, but it’s all indicative of how he’s finally relaxing again.
“Anytime, kiddo. Anything else I can do?”
“Just-” Peter bites his lip. “Never listen to Kansas?”
Tony gives him a lopsided smile and ruffles the kid’s hair fondly. “Done. Do you feel like you can stand?”
“Um. Yeah, I think so.” Peter shakes himself and starts to clamber to his feet, though he pauses to scoop up his mask from where it had been cast aside. He stretches his back a little bit before he reaches his hand down to help pull his mentor to his feet as well with a slight smile, then turns to gaze out over the rooftops stretching beneath them. The sunset is in full-force around them, and the sky is painted in watercolor swatches of gold, red, purple, and indigo. They’re transitioning into twilight; soon it will be dark.
“Saturday night, kid.” Tony straightens up as the suit begins to mold around him once more. “Where you headed? I’d advise against attending any wild parties after the evening you’ve had. So. Home, back to your apartment? Or with me, back to the compound?”
Peter hesitates. May is going to take one look at him and worry, because she can always tell when he’s had a bad day, and he doesn’t want to be fretted over anymore tonight. Sitting on the couch with pizza and watching movies with Tony while talking about how he stopped a bus earlier during his patrol sounds much more appealing. “C-could I go with you?”
Tony flashes one of his smiles. “Of course. We’ll call your still unbelievably attractive aunt and let her know that you’re spending the night.” The helmet begins to mold around Tony’s head, and the man takes a step back. The smile suddenly turns to a smirk just before the faceplate falls into place. “That is, if you can keep up.”
All of Tony’s thrusters start at once, and Iron Man takes off in a streak of red and gold across the city. Peter yelps and hurriedly stuffs his mask back onto his face.
“Mr. Stark!” Peter sprints towards the edge of the roof, and with a flick of his wrist, a web shoots out, which Peter leaps out into the air to follow.
Iron Man circles back, making large swoops in the sky to stall in the journey as Spider-man swings from building to building below, the sound of their combined laughter and teasing banter filling the coms.
They’re going to be fine.