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“Yeah, and it’s been malfunctioning all day,” Pepper says, leading Peter into the back workshops. “I don’t know where the hell Tony is, but, uh, I know you don’t wanna see him, anyway.”
Peter clears his throat, letting out the breath he’s been holding since he got here.
He hasn’t talked to Tony in a week. Not since—the incident. He’s talked to Pepper, sure, and Happy more than anybody else, but he definitely hasn’t stepped foot in the tower since it all happened. Peter doesn’t really hold grudges, especially against people he loves, but—it just happened this way. He didn’t want it to, but it did, and neither one of them have backed down. It sucks. It sucks. He doesn’t even like to think about it. He wants it to end, but he’s still just—hurt. The deep kind of hurt that makes it hard to form coherent sentences, or have coherent thoughts.
He sighs, and Pepper looks over her shoulder at him.
“You okay, honey?” she asks, slowing down a little bit. “I swear, he’s not here.”
Peter shakes his head, his brows furrowing. “No, it’s—it’s fine,” he says.
“I would have called Rhodey, but he’s in Italy? On a vacation? With a woman?”
“Really?” Peter laughs. “Is he hiding a relationship from us? I like just talked to him.”
“I guess so,” Pepper says, leading him down the hallway. “And Happy told me just to let this burnout take its course, but I feel like it’s gonna start smoking if it keeps heating up. Then this whole place’ll be on fire.”
She hasn’t exactly said what’s overheating or what’s really going on, and he hopes he can fix whatever it is before any awkward run-ins with Tony. He knows he has to resolve this dumbass fight sooner rather than later, but half of him fears that there’s no repairing it. No resolving what caused it to begin with.
“Right in here,” Pepper says. She heads for a door at the end of the hall that Peter didn’t exactly think was a workshop, and she holds it open for him.
“It’s in here?” he asks, looking at her as he walks past, into the room. She nods, lips pursed, and as soon as he steps inside, she slams the door closed. He stands there, staring at her through the glass, and she holds her chin high. “Friday,” she says, a little muffled. “Lights out.”
Peter keeps staring, confused. The glass on the door goes completely dark, and only then does Peter realize that he’s been tricked. And he walked right into it. She’s trapped him this room and she’s probably gonna go get Tony right now and trap him in here too. Because Tony and everyone he surrounds himself with are nuts. Including Peter himself.
“Dammit,” he breathes, hanging his head. “Why the hell doesn’t my spidey sense pick this kind of stuff up?”
“Because you trust Pepper,” Tony’s voice says, startling him. “You don’t think she’d betray you. And yet. Look what she’s done.”
A pang of alarm strikes in Peter’s chest, something that’s not normally associated with Tony at all, and he turns, sees the man himself sitting in an easy chair by a bookshelf. This isn’t a workshop—it looks like some half abandoned office, and Peter...really should have known better. This is how he gets kidnapped. This is how bad guys get the upper hand on him.
Peter crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall, not saying anything.
Tony rocks back and forth in his chair, peering over his glasses at Peter. “Don’t even think about yelling for help,” he says. “I tried. She sound-proofed the room. She really had Friday do that. Right in front of me. Diabolical.”
Peter shakes his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He pulls out his phone, and, surprisingly enough—
“She somehow, also, made this room a dead zone,” Tony says. He takes out his own phone, and drops it on the desk with a flourish. “Yeah. Like I said. She put some real thought into this. I know she didn’t do it by herself. Rhodey in Italy, my ass. I’d know if Rhodey was seeing someone. I can’t believe she tried that with me. Did she try that with you?”
Peter doesn’t say anything. He’s on the verge of too many emotions, and he keeps thinking about the last time they spoke. And the whole week that they haven’t.
“Okay, you’re not gonna talk,” Tony says. He sighs dramatically, and rocks the chair even harder, until it squeaks. Back and forth, back and forth. Squeak squeak squeak. “That’s fine. That’s fine. We’ll just sit here, until they—well, I guess I’ll just sit here. And you’ll stand there and sulk.”
Peter rolls his eyes.
“Mature,” Tony says. “I can see you.”
“I know you can see me,” Peter snaps, immediately mad at himself for breaking. He walks over, perching on the edge of the table in the middle of the room, with his back to Tony.
“How’s your week been?” Tony asks, and he sounds tentative. “I saw the channel five interview. Real cute.”
“I wasn’t trying to be cute,” Peter says, picking at a stray rip in his jeans.
“That could be the name of your autobiography,” Tony says.
Peter doesn’t answer. He thinks of that night, the horror of that mission gone wrong, what he could have lost, who he could have lost, and he tries to blink away the tears that crop up along with the images. He’s angry about what happened, angry that Tony is so stubborn, angry that they haven’t talked, angry at himself and Tony both. He’s angry he can’t be calm when he’s in the same room as him. He’s angry, he’s so angry. He’s angry because he wants it to be over. He hates fighting with people he loves. He hates it. His last fight with May was dumb as hell and lasted about three days before he ended it by buying her new dish towels. He doesn’t always want to be the one to end fights. Especially when he believes he’s right.
“Listen, bud, we’re stuck in here,” Tony says. Squeak, squeak, squeak. “They’ve completely isolated us on purpose, because Pepper is insane, and I guess I’ve been—a wreck this week, and she’s sick of it, so it’d be best if we—” squeak squeak squeak “—it’d be best if we talked.”
“Please stop with the chair,” Peter says, covering his eyes with one hand.
“Oh, hey, sorry,” Tony says, and the squeaking stops. “Maybe I was doing that, subconsciously, to annoy you. Like the red chair in your room. I fixed it, by the way. On...Wednesday.”
Peter sighs, his brain just about close to exploding.
Tony sighs too. “You don’t wanna talk. Okay. Alright, it’s fine. I get it. I mean, who would wanna talk, if they’re being forced to talk, by being locked in a goddamn room together. Because Pepper is insane.”
Peter remembers that night. Remembers how easily Tony made his decision. Remembers how he just—walked right by. Like it was no decision at all.
“Maybe we can break out,” Tony says. Peter hears him get up, and he walks around so he’s standing in front of the door. He spares Peter an awkward look, then gears himself up and looks at him harder, like he’s trying to prove something to himself. “She’ll leave us in here for days, kid. She’ll feed us through the vents or some shit. I’m sure she’s got May in on it. You’re strong, c’mon. The doors are reinforced, but you—super strength, Spider-Man, I wasn’t planning for all that.”
“Why are your office doors reinforced?” Peter asks, quietly. His heart is beating too fast, because his brain is betraying him.
Tony shrugs. “I mean, everything in here is the result of a very protective and paranoid man. You never know what the hell is gonna happen. I’m just covering my ass. And everybody else’s.”
Peter rubs at his eyes, but doesn’t get up.
“Okay,” Tony says. He turns to the door, and starts pulling on the handle.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Peter says, listening to him strain.
“It’s fine,” Tony says, groaning.
Peter narrows his eyes. “No,” he says, slowly. “It’s...it’s not fine.”
“Kid, I’m not gonna break my arm trying to open this door,” Tony says, and he doesn’t stop trying. “I mean, maybe I’ll break a nail, but that—”
“This is the whole root of the problem,” Peter says, his voice breaking stupidly. He rubs at his eyes again. “That’s like, the whole entire thing.”
Tony stops, and turns around to look at him.
Peter feels like such an idiot. “You didn’t try to talk to me all week,” he says. “Not—not one single phone call, or text, or random fly by.”
Tony cracks his jaw, hands on his hips. “Because I knew you were pissed at me,” he says. “And you said—you didn’t wanna hear from me.”
Peter looks away. “You know why I’m mad,” he says.
“I know.”
There’s a silence, after that, and Peter stares at him. “And?” he asks, shaking his head, dramatically. “I know? And you’re confused about Pepper locking us in a room? Because it’s not my fault. You’re the stubborn one.”
Tony scoffs. “Yeah, okay. And you’re not stubborn.”
“I’m not,” Peter says.
Tony’s looking at him with that stupid look, and Peter feels like he’s gonna explode. For real. His ears get all red and hot when he’s angry, when he’s upset, and that’s happening right now, like he’s about to transform into an old-timey cartoon and have steam come out of them. He digs his fingers into his eyes.
“I’m tired of you acting like your life isn’t important,” Peter says. “I’m tired of it.”
Tony looks down at his feet. “Kid—”
“That guy had me in a building that was rigged to explode,” Peter says, reliving the moments all over again. “And he gave you that deal. Me for you. And you just took it. You just took it. You had no suit, nothing, no watch, no nothing and you just went marching in there, just walked right past me like it was nothing, like I could be okay with it—”
“I knew I’d be able to handle it,” Tony says, looking at him with concern in his eyes. “I knew I’d—”
Peter jumps off the table and starts pacing. “Let me handle it, for once,” he says, glaring back at him. “For once, let me be the one in danger.”
“No,” Tony says, setting his jaw. “You know I can’t do that if I’ve got the ability to change it. And even if that asshole hadn’t handed me the chance, I would have come for you anyway.”
Peter's head hurts, and he turns towards the wall. He wants to rip it apart, he feels so crazy. “I have superpowers,” he says. “You do not.”
“Harsh—”
“True,” Peter says, whipping around and looking at him.
“I’ve got suits—”
“You didn’t then,” Peter says, throwing out his hands. “And yeah, you got the upper hand on him—”
“Of course I did—”
“But one day you won’t,” Peter almost yells, the tears threatening again. “One day, you’re gonna trade yourself for me, like you always fucking do whether I want you to or not, and you’re not gonna come back from it. And that’s gonna be on me.”
“No it’s not,” Tony says, stepping closer to him. “That would be on me. My decision. Mine.”
Peter wipes at his eyes again. “I don’t care,” he says, voice breaking. “You’d be dead. My parents, dead. Uncle Ben, dead. Then you, dead. Another...another father figure, gone. Yay for me.” His throat is so tight, and he can barely keep talking, but he does anyway. “And you had the nerve to act like a situation where you’d be dead is like, totally fine, and like I shouldn’t be mad at you for choosing that and not letting me handle it.” Two tears rush down his cheeks and he scrubs them away angrily. “I’m not—I’m not okay with it. And I know you’re never gonna change. You’re never gonna stop putting yourself in front of me when death is possible and I—” He gasps, shaking his head. “I know how it sounds,” he says, rounding on Tony like he’s about to attack him. He’s losing his grip, losing his argument. Losing his head.
“Kid,” Tony says, and he’s got that soft look on his face again.
“No, you just have to know,” Peter says, backing away from him. “You just have to know that I’m not okay with it. I’m not, I’m not okay with losing you at all, and you keep—you keep doing this and I just can’t take—you not valuing—your own life.” He wipes at his eyes again, but the tears keep coming. “Or what you mean to me. Or anyone else.”
“Peter,” Tony says. “I’m sorry, alright, bud? I’m sorry you’re this upset. You know I never want you upset, you know that.”
“Yeah, well, I am, because you suck,” Peter spits out, not looking at him.
Tony laughs a little bit, and steps closer.
“It’s not funny,” Peter says, still avoiding his eyes.
Tony moves around, situates himself in front of Peter. “Listen,” he says. “I’m really sorry I upset you. That’s the last thing I want. I get it, I get it, and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, brought...all that up. But, standing back and looking at it, can you, honestly, blame me?”
“I—”
Tony cuts him off by taking him by one shoulder. “I will never, ever let you die if I’ve got the opportunity to save you,” he says. “And you’ve said the exact same thing to me. On more than one occasion. No matter if I want you to or not.”
Peter is quiet. He wipes away another tear.
“We’re two self-sacrificing idiots and we’re family and that’s just...how the whole thing rolled out, I guess,” Tony says, squeezing Peter’s shoulder.
“I need you to trust me more,” Peter says, trying to be firm.
“Fine.”
“I don’t believe you,” Peter says.
Tony rolls his eyes.
“Wow, and you called me immature,” Peter says.
Tony laughs, shaking his head. “You’re—still young.”
“Superpowers,” Peter insists. “And you need to trust me. You need to. I would have gotten out of there. No deal needed to be made.” He sighs, looking down. “I get it, if it’s—the only option. But I want you to...believe in me.”
“You know I do,” Tony says, and he actually sounds hurt this time.
“I know you think you do,” Peter says. “But the slightest horrible thing happens and you’re ready to throw yourself on the chopping block. You know what I was doing before you found me.”
Tony blows out a breath, letting go of him and looking at the door.
“I don’t want you to die,” Peter says, his voice wavering. “And you don’t want me to die. And we’ve gotta...find some middle ground. Because I was so...afraid this last time, and you just...you were so...chill. And that made me so mad, Tony, I can’t even tell you. I literally can’t even tell you.”
“Oh, you told me,” Tony says. “I talked to May every single day, kid, trying to figure out if you wanted to hear from me.”
“I wanted to,” Peter says, looking at him. “But I wanted you to say what I wanted you to say.”
Tony nods, and Peter sighs.
“Listen, I hate not talking to you,” Tony says, throwing his hands out and letting them hit his thighs. “You’re a very important fixture in my life. It’s...boring, black and white without you.”
Peter wipes at his eyes, and God he wishes he would stop crying.
“I’m sorry I made you upset,” Tony says. “Alright? Honestly. And I—I absolutely promise to try and...trust you more. It’ll turn my hair grey, but I’ll—push the envelope, I guess.”
“And if it’s near death, try to save us both,” Peter says, voice wavering. “Just agree. Just agree.”
Tony shifts jaw back and forth. “Agree,” he says, through gritted teeth.
Peter isn’t really convinced. “I just hate how hard it is for you to—pick yourself, I guess,” he says. “I mean, even now, you’re like—someone’s putting a gun to your head. And I feel like that would even be easier for you than this conversation.”
“Pete, I don’t—I don’t wanna die. You know that, right? I don’t wanna die. I wanna be that real irritating old guy hobbling around here with my walker barking orders at all the young bucks.”
Peter scoffs, trying to imagine that.
Tony shifts a little closer to him, like he does when he wants to make a point. “And I don’t go seeking this stuff out, despite being an Avenger, I’m not always—stepping into death’s path, I guess, if there are better options. But I’ve got priorities. Pepper, you, Happy, Rhodey—you’re my family. You, especially, you’re my kid. I’ve got an opportunity to keep you alive, I’m gonna take it, however I can.”
Peter’s eyes strain, his stomach turning. Tony is just—impossible.
“But I promise you, I do value my own life. I wanna stay alive, watch all the crazy shit you get yourself into. See if Rhodey ever does take a date to Italy. I’m building Happy a suit, I’ve gotta see the reaction to that. And Pep and I, we’re trying for our own little nugget, so—I’ve got plans, bud. It’s not—it’s not how you think. I’m not doing it just to do it. I’m doing it in worst case scenarios, because you are not allowed, under any circumstances, to die. I refuse to let it happen. Especially if I can stop it. I trust you, I believe in you, I know you can do anything, that’s not the deal here. You being in danger just—I can’t handle it, I wanna stop it however I can.”
“But you’ll try to save us both, if it comes to that,” Peter insists, highly interested in the other information Tony just spilled, but desperate to get real confirmation that doesn’t look like it was extracted by torture. “You’ll make sure you get to follow through on those plans. And for me. Because I can’t—I can’t lose you.”
“Yes,” Tony says, more soft and sure this time. “Yes. I promise.”
Peter wilts, nodding, and makes sure, in his head, to hold him to it.
“Give your old man a hug, huh?” Tony asks. “Not one person has hugged me all week because they’ve all been pissed at me for making you mad.”
Peter snorts, shuffling over and into Tony’s arms. He holds onto him tight, and tries to resolve his feelings about that night, tries to shut the door on all that. Tony’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s fine. He’s right here.
“Love you, kid, you know that,” Tony says. “I hate when your stubborn ass is mad at me.”
“Love you too,” Peter says, into his shoulder. “And it hardly ever happens.”
“Not for this long, anyway,” Tony says.
Peter pulls back, glaring at him. “Okay, sit down, because I wanna hear about everything you just said, and I’ve got about eight hundred things to catch you up on, including what I thought was a zombie outbreak.”
“Nice,” Tony says, both of them sitting on the edge of the table where Peter was before. “I know Pepper is gonna leave us in here for at least another hour or two, so gimme all the details.”
Whether or not it took being locked in a room together to resolve their issue, Peter is beyond relieved they’re talking again. He knows there was a big portion of his life when he never even thought he’d meet Tony Stark, but now—the day to day just isn’t the same without him.