Chapter Text
Peter made a small noise of disappointment when he held one of his earbuds to his ear and heard no music. He tried turning the volume up on his phone. Again. Then he unplugged the headphone jack and blew into the little hole at the bottom of his phone before plugging it back in. Then he fiddled with the cord, turning and twisting it and holding it in different positions to see if any noise would come through. He got the occasional static blip but that was all. He picked determinedly at the little piece of duct tape wrapped around the the frayed and exposed wires at the base of the cord.
“What on earth are you doing?”
He paused his losing battle with the earbuds long enough to glance at Tony, who was giving him the side eye from the driver’s seat.
“You look like you’re trying to perform brain surgery.”
Peter sighed and finally dropped his hands back to his lap. “It’s nothing, my headphones just finally died.”
“Is that duct tape?”
“Yeah,” he responded quietly, feeling in equal parts embarrassed and indignant.
Tony reached a hand over and lifted the end of the cord, giving it a brief yet critical eye. “Why do you even still have these? They look like they should have been replaced about a year and a half ago.”
Peter quickly took them back and stuffed them into his backpack with a tinge of self-consciousness coloring his cheeks. “They still worked!”
His mentor just chuckled, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel despite the lack of music in the car. “You still coming by this weekend? I’ve got some good ones I can give you. They’ll last a lot longer than those and you won’t even need duct tape. I could get you a cordless pair too, but I’ll be honest I’m a little worried you’ll accidentally swallow one or something.”
Peter had turned to watch the storefronts pass by, illuminating the night with their bright signs and window displays, but quickly turned back to Tony. “Oh no, Mr. Stark, that’s okay! I mean thank you. That’s really nice and everything, but I can buy a new pair tomorrow. I was just hoping I could get these to last for a couple more hours is all.”
“Why’s that, kid, you trying to tune me out for the rest of the ride?” Tony gave him an accusatory look. It was clearly all in good humor, but Peter panicked nonetheless.
“Oh my God, no! It’s just that I have a little bit of a headache because it was kind of a loud day, and um. You know, sometimes it’s hard to tune all the noise out when I’m trying to fall asleep after a loud day, and I was really hoping to get a good sleep tonight because I had a test today that I did really well on! But I only did well because I barely slept last night studying for it, so I’m really tired. It just... sometimes helps to listen to soft music. When I go to sleep.”
Tony put the blinker on in barely enough time to take a hard right onto a street that definitely wasn’t on the way back to Peter’s apartment.
“Mr. Stark?”
“There’s a Best Buy two blocks from here,” he explained simply. “You can use my card. Get some that will last this time.”
Peter instantly felt a rush of gratitude. “Wow, Mr. Stark, are you sure? You really wouldn’t mind stopping?”
“Sure, kid. It’s not far out of the way.”
“It’s almost ten fifteen, do you think they’ll still be open?”
“We’re about to find out.” He pulled his sleek black Audi down another side street and into a small parking lot. There was only one other car in the lot but the lights were still clearly on inside the electronics store.
“Looks like you’re good.” He started to pull his wallet out but Peter quickly stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“No, Mr. Stark! I have my own money,” he assured, digging his own wallet out of his backpack. “I’ll be quick, promise! Thank you so much!”
Tony furrowed his eyebrows briefly but then let it go. “Okay, well, scamper on in then. They probably do close soon.”
Peter gave a him a bright, grateful smile before getting out of the car. Even after having known Mr. Stark for almost a year, slowly getting closer to him, spending more time with him, and getting more comfortable with him, he still found himself marveling at how surreal his life had become.
His childhood hero, his lifetime hero, Ironman, had driven him to a store to buy headphones just because Peter told him they would help him sleep. The simple fact that Tony wanted to drive him home instead of sending out Happy was surreal. At least when it came to Mr. Stark, Ned was right. His life was amazing.
He opened the door to the Best Buy and heard a faint dinging in a back room to alert employees to his presence. He made straight for the aisle marked for headphones and let his eyes wander over the display racks. Despite Tony’s desire for him to get a better quality set, he truly didn’t have much money to spare so he looked for the cheapest ones. He zeroed in on a pair that were just a step above the lowest quality and were slightly more expensive, but he immediately knew he couldn’t pass them up.
He would be made fun of for wearing them. But it would be worth it.
He grabbed them and made his way to the counter. The store was silent, save for the generic and overplayed pop tunes that played weakly through the store’s speakers.
He heard some rustling from the side room just off the check-out counter and then a man stepped into view. He was bald with a thick copper-colored beard and dark brown eyes that glared at Peter with barely concealed irritation.
The skin on the back of Peter’s neck began to prickle as soon as he met the man’s eyes.
“Hi, um, I’m sorry, I know you’re closing soon but I just need these -“
“We’re already closed,” the man cut him off bluntly.
Taken aback, Peter stared at him a moment before glancing back towards the door, but it wasn’t visible from the counter.
“The sign said you close at ten thirty...?”
The employee’s eyes hardened a touch and then darted into the side room. Peter tried to subtly follow his gaze but he couldn’t see what the man was looking at.
“Um, is everything okay?” Peter asked, keeping his voice quiet.
“It’s fine, we’re just closed. Come back tomorrow,” the man replied curtly.
He couldn’t. Something was wrong here, something was happening. He let his eyes linger on the man, who was wearing a blue supervisor’s vest with the name ‘Victor’ on a small metal pin. Peter shifted nervously on his feet.
“Are you sure?” He asked carefully, his voice just barely above a whisper. He would never forgive himself if this man was in danger of some kind and Peter just left without trying to help.
But the man just scoffed and shook his head.
“You’re a fucking moron, kid.”
Peter’s eyes went wide as the sensation in the back of his neck went suddenly from a vague tingling to a full on spike of warning. He tried to duck but wasn’t quite fast enough, and something metal cracked into the back of his head. Pain shot through his skull and he staggered, grabbing onto the edge of the counter to try and stay upright as bright spots raced across his vision. Before he could get steady, a hand gripped the back of his neck and forced him facedown onto the countertop. He immediately started to push back but then went still when he felt the barrel of a gun dig into his ribs.
There were a few seconds where Peter could only hear his own thundering heartbeat and unsteady breathing, then the man behind him leaned over his back, pressing close to speak directly into his ear.
“You really shoulda just left, little guy,” he said in a surprisingly soft voice. The warm breath tickled some of the little hairs on the back of Peter’s neck, forcing an involuntary shiver out of him. The man chuckled and then slowly straightened, but kept Peter down on the counter by his neck. “Now we’ve gotta take time out of our evening to deal with you, and whatever you had planned for the night is going to have to wait.”
“You can just let me go,” Peter reminded, fingers curling nervously against the scratched glass countertop. His voice came out a tad squeaky but still more reasonable than he expected, considering. “I don’t know what you’re doing, or-“
“What do you think we’re doing, genius?” The bearded man snapped, then disappeared into the side room, pulling off the employee vest as he went. “Hurry up and bring him back.”
Peter was pulled up by the back of his t-shirt and forced toward where the bearded man, now gripping a gun of his own, held the door to the back room open for them.
“Just let me go,” he tried again, slowing down and subconsciously beginning to push back against the man behind him. He didn’t want to go back there. It felt like walking into a cage, even though they already clearly had the advantage over him. “I can’t ID you, I don’t even know who you are.”
“Well, you can call me Barrett, then, how about that? Now you know me,” the man behind him said. The hand in his shirt tightened in warning, the gun digging a little harder into his back. “It doesn’t matter if you know our names.”
The bearded man’s face was dark with anger as he helped pull Peter into what seemed to be some sort of combination between a break room, office, and storage area.
“Fucking moron,” the man muttered again, grabbing a handful of Peter’s shirt and throwing him onto the unswept linoleum floor. Peter immediately noticed several things.
One: there was a table in the corner holding a computer, under which was a large safe with its door blasted open, only loose papers left inside.
Two: there was an open door on the other side of the room leading directly into a large warehouse area with shelves upon shelves of boxes containing televisions, audio systems, smart phones, and tablets.
Three: there was a trail of blood right by Peter’s head that lead in a smear around the side of a well-worn couch and stopped at a pair of feet that were duct taped at the ankles. The rest of the body was blocked by the couch.
Peter let out a short breath, heart hammering in his chest, and immediately tried to get back to his feet. He made it to his knees before two sets of hands latched onto his arms. He wrenched hard to one side and managed to pull one arm free, immediately throwing his elbow back and hearing a grunt when the blow landed.
He couldn’t use his full strength if he wasn’t in his suit, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight.
He twisted around and tried to yank his arm out of the bearded man’s grip but then there was a hand in his hair. His head was pulled backward and then slammed violently into someone’s knee. For one or two seconds his vision went black as pain engulfed him, radiating in pulses through his head and making it difficult to think, much less move. There were still floating gray patches in his vision when he regained awareness of his surroundings. He was being held somewhat upright on his knees and the bearded man was right in his face, holding his head up with a hand in his hair again.
“Do you not know what this is, moron?” He yelled, waving the gun in Peter’s view. “It’s something I can kill you with.” The butt of the gun whipped across Peters temple and he couldn’t stop the sharp cry of pain that escaped him as his head snapped to the side. “Fight back again and I’ll use it for more than these little love taps, you little shit.”
They pushed him down onto his stomach and a boot landed heavily between his shoulder blades, pressing down with crushing force. He laid quiet, blood clogging his nose and leaking down his face from his temple and somewhere else near his eyebrow.
He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut when his hands were pulled too far up behind him, straining and pulling at the muscles in his shoulders. His wrists were crossed and his eyes flew open again when he heard the unmistakable ripping sound of duct tape being pulled.
His thoughts went to Tony, sitting in his car just outside in the parking lot and waiting for Peter to return. How long had it been? Long enough for him to start to worry? When Peter ran through it in his mind, he realized it had really only been a few minutes.
The duct tape began to wind around his wrists, over and over and over until Peter began to worry that even if he used his full strength it would take him a minute to rip through. Finally they cut it off and let his aching arms drop to his back.
He thought that would be it, that they would leave him there and go back to raiding the store, but instead he was dragged back up to his knees. He finally got a clear look at Barrett when he crouched down in front of Peter. He had a gentle smile on his face and dark brown hair pulled back in a loose bun. His gun was tucked into his belt, but Peter felt another one at the back of his skull and fingers digging into his shoulder from behind, holding him down.
“My my, look at that face,” Barrett said, amusement twinkling in his gray eyes. He patted Peter on the cheek. “Aren’t you cute?”
Peter jerked his head away but the man just chuckled as he began to pull the duct tape off the roll again. He slapped the end of it to Peter’s chest and then began to wrap it tightly around his torso, trapping his arms even more securely against his sides. Peter couldn’t help but squirm at the feeling of extra restriction and tried to move away, but the fingers on his shoulder dug in painfully and kept him in place.
“Sorry, little guy,” Barrett continued conversationally as he cut the tape and patted the last of it firmly on Peter’s chest again. “Wrong place, wrong time.”
Peter’s eyes gravitated toward the smear of blood and the feet he could barely see on the other side of the couch. “Is he dead?” he asked quietly. The supervisor’s vest lay discarded on the floor nearby.
Barrett glanced over with him and shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, maybe. Our buddy here whacked him pretty hard. Several times,” he replied, tipping his head towards the bearded man behind Peter. Then he leaned in close to whisper as though sharing a great secret with him. “Jason’s got a bit of a temper.”
“What the hell.” A new voice spoke up and Peter’s heart dropped at the sight of a third, blond-haired man standing in the doorway of the warehouse. “Who the hell is that?”
“He’s a little shit who should have left when he was told to,” Jason snarled and then planted his foot against Peter’s back and gave him an angry kick. Without his hands or arms free to catch himself, Peter landed flat on his chest with a grunt, only barely managing to turn his head in time to not crack his chin open on the floor.
Peter’s breath caught in his throat when Jason grabbed a fistful if his hair again, pressed his face into the floor, and leaned into him with a knee digging painfully between his shoulder blades.
“Does anyone know you’re here?” He barked and Peter momentarily froze, unsure of how to answer. The second of hesitation was the only excuse the man needed to lift his head and slam his bruised cheek back into the ground.
Peter gasped in pain and Jason lifted his head threateningly again.
“No! No one knows I’m here, I walked here alone.” Tony was going to come in looking for Peter at some point and he didn’t want these men waiting for him when he did.
Jason paused and then slammed his head into the floor anyway and Peter whimpered as pain shot through his head once again.
“Can one of you help me carry the rest of this shit?” the blond man said lazily from the doorway. “Jesus. I don’t want to be here all night.”
Jason moved away and Peter drew in deep breaths as the pressure against his back was finally alleviated.
“You guys go, I’ll watch him,” Barrett said.
The blond dropped his eyes to Peter. “Does he really need watching? He’s kind of small, and you wrapped him up pretty good.”
“I don’t take chances. Just go, hurry up.”
The two other men disappeared into the warehouse and Peter was left on the floor with Barrett, who wasted no time in pulling Peter’s legs back and starting to duct tape his ankles together.
“You don’t have to do that,” Peter said, voice wavering slightly. It was bad enough to have his hands and arms restrained. But Peter wanted to know he could at the very least stand and move if he needed to. Be at least slightly useful when Tony got there. If his ankles were tied too, he would truly be immobile.
He could pull the tape apart, but it wasn’t smart to try fighting again. He couldn’t get free fast enough to dodge a bullet, and he couldn’t let these men find out who he really was.
As it was, Barrett paid him no mind and bound his ankles together anyway.
Come on, Mr. Stark, he pleaded silently. It’s been too long for me to be in here.
Unless Tony had been using this time to make phone calls and had lost track of time. Peter’s gut twisted at the thought. It was very possible.
Barrett started rifling through some of the boxes along the walls and Peter quietly rolled onto his back. He craned his neck to see if he could get a better view of the person on the other side of the couch and slowly pushed himself in that direction.
Unsurprisingly, he only made it a couple inches before Barrett turned back to him.
“You just don’t know what’s best for you, do you?” He took Peter’s bound ankles and dragged him back to his original spot. “You’re really lucky Jason’s not the one watching you.”
“Please, I just want to see if that guy is okay. He might be dying.”
“He probably is. It didn’t look good.” The man said casually as he maneuvered Peter to sit with his back against the couch before beginning to tear up an old t-shirt he had pulled from one of the boxes.
“You have to help him!” Peter clenched his fists behind him in frustration and flexed his arms a little bit to test the tape. It was very,very tight, and strong. Any tiny bit he could move pulled and pinched at his bare arms. He couldn’t move his wrists at all.
Barrett crouched in front of Peter and ripped off a short piece of duct tape before holding up a balled up chunk of the t-shirt. “Open up.”
Peter drew the line there.
“No! Are you kidding? Who am I going to scream to? You guys are the only ones here and you’ll shoot me if I do!”
“Very true, but if you can still make noise even after we leave then there is a chance you can get help before we are a safe distance away. Now open up.”
“No! Why don’t you just go help your friends so you can do us all a favor and leave sooner? You’re the slowest thieves I’ve ever seen.”
For a few seconds the room was so silent that Peter could hear the distant shuffling and grunting of the other two men in the warehouse. An empty feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach and his breathing picked up as Barrett reached forward to run his fingers into his hair, but he forced himself to stay still. Then the man’s steely gray eyes turned sharp and his grip tightened, pulling Peter’s head back with a harsh yank.
“Open your fucking mouth now or I’ll beat your face so bloody that it will hurt to ever say the word ‘no’ again.”
Peter swallowed, and his eyes darted to the employee. “I’ll do it if you check on him.”
The man sighed and then gave him a patronizing smile. They both knew he could just force the cloth into Peter’s mouth. It would just be a lot easier for him if Peter cooperated. “Okay. Fine. I’ll check on him.”
“And you have to help him if he’s dying.” Peter’s arms twitched and pulled in aborted attempts to grab the man’s hand and relieve the ache in his neck from being bent back too far.
The smile just grew wider.
“If there is something simple that can be done to delay his death then I will do it.” He cocked his head to the side. “Happy?”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows but then nodded as much as he could.
“Good boy.” He released Peter’s hair with a gentle push.
Peter expected him to simply stuff the cloth in his mouth. But instead he wiped it, almost tenderly, under his nose and across his lips where Peter’s blood was still wet.
“Wanna make sure the tape sticks,” the man said as a reply to Peter’s confused look. “Now. Open.”
Peter hesitated. This was his last ounce of control. But after another glance toward the injured employee, he opened his mouth and let Barrett stuff the bloody cloth in.
Come on, Mr. Stark, please!, he begged as his mouth was firmly taped over.
When the man was satisfied, he ruffled Peter’s hair and then walked over to the employee, grabbed his ankles, and none-too-gently dragged him out. Peter was about to make a sound of protest at the rough treatment but it died in his throat when the man’s face came into view and he was met with lifeless, staring eyes.
“He was dead before you walked in the door, little guy.” Barrett said with smirk. “It was cute of you to think you were helping though.”
Peter’s eyes began to burn as he stared at the poor man’s face, bloodied and beaten and swollen. He surely had a family. A wife, children... loved ones who right now were waiting for him to come home from work.
“Aw,” Barrett cooed as he returned to Peter. “Are you going to cry?”
Peter’s vision had gone blurry but he shook his head as he turned away from the dead man.
“Hey, almost done out here.” Jason appeared in the entryway to the warehouse.
Barrett gestured down toward Peter. “Look, I made him cry.”
To his embarrassment, Peter felt his cheeks heat up and he stared resolutely at the ground until Barrett grabbed his chin and forced his head up to meet his gaze.
“He’s so cute,” the man murmured thoughtfully, eyebrows drawing together. There was something disturbingly genuine in his eyes that made Peter’s skin crawl.
Ding.
All three of them froze at the sound of the door opening, then Barrett whipped his head toward Jason.
“You didn’t lock the fucking door?!” He hissed.
“I was too busy dealing with -“
“Hey kiddo, what’s the hold up?” Tony’s searching voice filtered into the back room and Peter dropped his head backwards, closing his eyes in relief.
When he opened them again, Barrett had gravitated towards the door, tucking the gun into the back of his waistband, and Jason was marching toward him with murder in his eyes.
Peter immediately tried to shift away, but Jason dropped to one knee next to him and pulled him back flush against his chest, holding his hand firmly over Peter’s mouth despite the fact that he was already gagged.
“Don’t make a single fucking noise, do you hear me?” He growled into Peter’s ear. “Don’t move, and stay quiet, or I’ll shoot you and then I’ll walk out there and I’ll shoot him.”
Then Barrett stepped out from the back room and up behind the counter.