Chapter Text
"Spidey, what's your status?"
The comm crackled in Peter's ear, making him flinch slightly.
"The west hall is clear, no agents in sight," he replied, dropping from the ceiling he had been crawling across. His feet hit the ground with a gentle slap that echoed down the long corridor.
"Good. Return back to the ship, we'll be finishing up soon," Steve said through the comms. Sounds of the ongoing fight in the other end of the building could be heard, and Peter winced when he heard Cap grunt in pain.
"Will do, Steve."
Tony sounded agitated as he joined the conversation. "So he's Steve, but I'm still Mr. Stark? I'm hurt."
Peter chuckled, shooting a web and slingshotting down the hall. "Sorry, Mr. Stark. I just don't want to disrespect my elders."
"Are you kidding me? Rogers is like a hundred years old! I'm young in comparison to him," Tony said incredulously. Peter belted out a laugh, nearly slipping from his next web. He stopped moving, waiting to calm down before replying.
"Yeah, but that doesn't necessarily make you young," the teen said between his sporadic giggling.
"I'm pretty sure you just called me old," the billionaire deadpanned.
"Was that not the topic of your entire conversation? Wow, I must not have been paying attention," Clint said sarcastically.
"You should have joined our talk earlier, considering were talking about old people," Tony coughed. Peter stifled his giggling, kicking down a door that was in his way.
"Why, you—" Natasha cut him off.
"Ladies, please. You both look beautiful. Now please, try to concentrate on the battle that you have been neglecting to join." Both men scoffed, and laughter could be heard from the other comms.
Peter stopped in his tracks, barely paying attention to Tony and Clint arguing in his ear. He stared at an open door a few feet away from him. Blue light filtered through the cracks, and unintelligible voices could be heard beyond the thick metal frame.
The boy inched closer, peering inside. Multiple monitors were visible, some glowing brightly and others dark. Two men in lab coats were tending to them. The monitors were showing feeds from the halls of the enormous compound, and Peter could clearly see every Avenger and agent in the building.
"Где паук?" One man said, searching the screens for something that Peter didn't know.
"В последний раз его видели в западном крыле, но мы потеряли связь с некоторыми камерами," the other man replied, sounding agitated. He began to type rapidly on a nearby keyboard, and lines of black and green code filled the dark screens.
"Guys, I think I found something," Peter whispered into his earpiece. There was no reply. He tried again, and when no one answered, he took it out and fiddled with the minuscule controls.
"Ага! Мы снова в сети, сэр," the second man shouted. The lines of code had disappeared, and Peter recognized the corridors he had just come from. His heart pounded.
"Хорошая работа, Смирнофф. Славься, ГИДРА," the first man said with pleasure.
"Славься, ГИДРА."
Peter didn't know much Russian, but he did know at least one phrase: hail HYDRA. He shoved the comm back into his ear and whispered into it frantically.
"Steve, Tony, does anyone copy? This is a HYDRA base! I repeat, this is a HYDRA base!"
The boy didn't realize the men in the monitor room had gone quiet.
* * * * *
Tony watched as Wanda threw the last agent into the wall.
She turned back to him grimly, and glared.
"I hate this place," Wanda said, her words slipping up to reveal her Sokovian accent.
Tony remembered her sharing how she had been working for HYDRA, and how horrible her conditions were. This place must remind Wanda of her past.
"You did good," he said, patting her on the shoulder. The sorceress smiled weakly in return. It was short lived when Clint walked up to Tony, looking agitated.
"What did you do, Legolas," the billionaire teased. Clint glowered.
"Peter wasn't back at the ship when I looked, and the comms are down. We can't get ahold of him."
Tony stared at him. "Well that's not good, is it?"
The archer shook his head, and handed him his earpiece. He began to explain when Tony shot him a confused look.
"You use FRIDAY for communication, so I figured you would need an actual device to hack so you can get the system back online and find Peter." Tony let out a small 'oh,' nodding dumbly.
"Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll head back to the ship and do that."
Clint nodded and walked away, Wanda close on his heels. Tony looked down at the comm. He wondered if Peter was okay.
* * * * *
"Does anybody copy? Please, I need backup! There are two agents armed with alien tech!"
Peter leapt from wall to ceiling to floor, dodging purple blasts and shooting webs at the apparently armed HYDRA agents. They followed him as he traveled further down the cement halls, dodging every web and blow he sent their way.
They had heard him outside the monitor room and seen him from the newly working security cameras, almost catching him off guard. Peter had a newfound respect for his spider sense.
He dodged another purple blast and jumped closer to one of the agents, feigning a punch and kicking his leg out. The man fell back with a heave as a strong foot was delivered to his abdomen.
"I need backup," he yelled into his comm, ducking as Guy #2 tried to punch him. Why he didn't use the alien gun, Peter had no idea. Maybe they weren't close up guns or something. Or these guys weren't trained agents and just armed scientists. That was probably more likely.
The boy hopped to the ceiling, swinging his legs down and kicking the man in the face. A crack sounded as his nose broke, and the man cried out. He stumbled backward, cradling his bloody nose.
Peter jumped to the wall behind the man, grabbing his head and slamming it into the concrete. Guy #2 collapsed to the ground next to Guy #1, who was trying in vain to sit up. Peter walked over to him, kneeling down and grabbing the man by his lab coat. He held up a fist threateningly.
The boy leaned in close, speaking with a deeper voice. "Are there more of you?"
Guy #1 just smiled a toothy grin, giggling quietly. Peter punched him in the face, hard enough to bruise but not knock out.
"Answer me," he said through gritted teeth. The man spit to the side, blood dribbling down his chin as he smirked again.
"They are coming for you, little spider," he said thickly, his Russian accent making his words almost impossible to understand. Peter shook him roughly, growing angry.
"That's not an answer."
The man just continued to giggle, muttering the same thing over and over.
"Peter Parker, Peter Parker . . ."
The boy gripped the man's shoulders and slammed him into the ground, cracking the foundation. This was not good.
For a moment, the world became impossibly quiet. The silence was only interrupted by the crackling of Peter's earpiece. How convenient, it worked.
"Peter? Spiderman, do you copy?"
The teen shivered, straightening out of habit. "Yeah, Tony. I copy."
Peter could practically hear the billionaire's smile when the man replied.
"Yay, he didn't call me Mr. Stark! Now get back to the ship, you little rugrat." Peter cringed at the anger and concern laced in his mentors voice.
"Yeah, sure thing Mr. Stark," he said, already limping down the corridor.
"Oh no, I take back the comment. You are wonderful and amazing, and I hereby grant you permission to call me Tony." Peter laughed, wincing when it hurt his ribs. He regretted making a sound when Tony heard it.
"Are you hurt? What happened?" His mentor pestered, and the boy sighed.
"Just hurt my leg and my ribs are a little bruised. I ran into some agents with alien tech." He turned a corner and pulled open a door, passing multiple unconscious—or dead, he didn't know—agents. Peter paused to lean against a wall, muttering a soft 'gross' when a sticky red substance coated his hand.
"Alien tech? This was supposed to be a simple mission."
"Yeah, um, they were HYDRA agents. I overheard them talking in Russian, and they said 'hail HYDRA,' so yeah," Peter said lamely. "Then they attacked me." He heard Tony groan.
"Why didn't you call for one of us? We could have helped," the billionaire reprimanded, sounding annoyed.
"I did, but the comms stopped working!" The boy continued limping, talking with his hands like Tony could actually see him.
"Yeah, whatever. Just get yourself back to the ship and I'll have Helen patch you up at the Compound. Then we can watch a movie or something."
Peter smiled. Tony was great.
"Popcorn, too?" The boy asked hopefully.
The billionaire agreed, but only if Peter made it.
"That sounds great, Tony."
"Yes! Mark your calendars, folks, this is a day to remember! Not only did Peter help take down a HYDRA base, but he said my name twice!"
Peter giggled, turning another corner and opening a door under a red 'exit' sign.
He continued to limp across the dry patchy ground, calling Tony's name when he saw him. Said man turned around, running away from the Quinjet that was stationed along the treeline of a seemingly endless forest.
The billionaire wrapped his arms around the boy who reciprocated the hug, paying no mind to his bruised ribs. They stayed this way for almost a minute before Natasha came over to break them up.
"Okay, shows over. Get on the jet," she ordered sternly. The two let go of each other and walked to the ship that had begun to hum and whir, signaling that it was ready to take off.
"Here, let me carry you," Tony said after noticing Peter's limp. He lifted the protesting teen into a bridal carry, bringing him up the ramp and setting him into a seat.
Tony sat down beside Peter, his arm falling around the younger's shoulders. Peter's head rested against his mentor, and they both sat there contentedly.
"We'll get you all fixed up when we get home," Tony promised, carding his hand through Peter's dark curls. Peter nodded, exhaustion settling in.
"That'd be nice."
Tony chuckled and let out a relaxed sigh. Peter yawned.
"No falling asleep on my watch," the billionaire warned, but it was too late. Peter was already out cold. Soon, Tony was too.
And if Clint took a picture of them for blackmail, they wouldn't know.