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Tony’s been missing for six days and 7 hours when they get the alert from FRIDAY.
Peter and Rhodey are in the tower lab. Both are exhausted, frantic and combing yet again for clues to be found in the last footage of Tony - the man having taken an alley shortcut on his way home from grabbing shawarma - when FRIDAY announces, “Boss has just entered the tower from the private side entrance.”
The two exchange a wide-eyed glance before they’re both up and racing toward the elevator. They’re both waiting at the door when it opens to reveal Tony, face pale behind a pair of dark sunglasses and wearing a torn suit that’s absolutely drenched in blood.
“Mister Stark!”
“Tony!”
“That’s my name,” Tony says - far too nonchalantly, everything considered - before walking straight past the two fellow superheroes without so much as a pause and toward the lab. Peter and Rhodey exchange another glance - this time one of pure confusion bordering on concern - before racing after him. Just as Tony gets to the door he turns around to face the pair. “Look. I’m not hurt-- all this blood is from the bastards who took me, and they’re all dead. Any other pressing questions?”
“Where have you been, Tones?”
“Who took you, Mister Stark?”
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“How’d you esc--”
Tony throws up a hand, silencing them both. “Listen. I’ll answer all these questions soon but I-- I need to be left alone for now. So can you both scram?”
Peter’s jaw drops, and he turns to Rhodey, who gives Tony a hard stare before shrugging.
“Alright, Tones,” he finally says. “But we’re not gonna be far, are we, Pete? And you will answer our questions.”
Peter wants nothing more than to protest - Tony’s been gone for a week, damnit - but he forces himself to stay silent, giving a tight nod.
Though nobody can stop him from suddenly lunging forward and barreling into Tony, wrapping his arms around him.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Mister Stark. I was so worried,” he whispers into the man’s ear, trying to ignore the overwhelming stench of copper that permeates from his mentor.
Tony stays tense but then slowly puts his arms up and around Peter’s back. It doesn’t feel as natural as it usually does - in fact, it’s almost as if to Tony the gesture is seemingly unnatural - but the man’s been missing for a week, and who knows what all he’s been through in that time? Peter figures he’s earned a pass.
Peter pulls away eventually, and the two just stare at each other before Tony gives a pointed sniff, rubbing at his nose. He turns around and disappears through the lab doors.
Just then the elevator opens to reveal Pepper, wearing a sleek robe and slippers.
“Where is he?” she asks Rhodey and Peter desperately.
“He’s in the lab,” Rhodey replies, “But listen, Pepper, you might want to wait. He seems--”
“I don’t care how he seems, Jim. I need to see him-- to know he’s okay.”
Pepper stalks right past them and into the lab, no hesitation in her stride.
As the door closes again, Rhodey sighs. “C’mon kid, let her deal with Tones. We both could use some rest.”
Later that night, when Peter gets up to get a glass of water, he finds Pepper on the penthouse couch, arms locked around her pajama-clad legs. She’s crying, head resting on her knees, and she doesn’t notice Peter when he comes to stand at the hallway opening. He watches her for a few moments, frozen in place, before silently going back to the guest room.
The panic he’d felt all week is gone but instead of relief replacing it there’s a growing seed of deep worry. A feeling that something has changed forever, but Peter doesn’t have any idea what yet.
He just knows it’s not for the good.
Tony answers their questions the next morning, but only vaguely.
Where have you been? Some underground lair in Brooklyn.
Who took you? A bunch of depraved lowlifes.
Are you sure you’re not hurt? I’m fine, just like I said. Ask FRIDAY.
How’d you escape? I woke up from a nap after finally being fed and was strong enough to fight back.
The distant way with which Tony responds to each query - as if their concern is nothing but a nuisance - is painful, and Peter can tell he’s not the only one who’s stinging from it. Pepper’s eyes are tear-filled but there’s no smile or relief to be found in her expression, while Rhodey keeps rubbing at his chin, clearly frustrated with his friend.
Peter just sits there, hands in his lap, watching Tony with pleading eyes and wondering what happened that he’s not telling them. Because it’s obvious he’s hiding something, and whatever it is, Peter knows it must be really bad if it’s causing him to act this out of sorts.
After Rhodey and Pepper finally give up - realizing their wheedling is getting nowhere - Peter starts for his guest room again only to be halted by a hand on his shoulder.
He turns to see Tony, giving him a grateful smile. “I really am so relieved you’re okay, Mister--”
“I think you ought to head home, Peter.”
At Tony’s words, Peter feels his heart fall into his stomach. He shuffles a bit.
“Oh, um, okay. I just thought-- it’s Saturday, and you know I usually stay here with you on the weekends so I just--”
“Just go home, kid.”
He bites his lip to keep it from trembling. “Al-alright, Mister Stark. I’ll see you next weekend, then?”
Peter can’t see behind Tony’s sunglasses, but he feels it all the same when the man rolls his eyes.
“I’ll be in touch.”
Tony doesn’t get in touch, not that week or the week after. Peter sends him two texts - nothing important, but still things Tony would normally respond to - but receives no response. Finally, after sixteen days, he breaks and reaches out to Pepper. Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering… is Mister Stark okay?
He doesn’t hear back for a few hours, but as soon as his phone pings he grabs it off his desk, opening it eagerly.
Pepper Potts: I’m sorry, Peter, but I honestly don’t know. I’m afraid to say Tony chose to end our relationship last week. I moved out and we haven’t spoken directly since.
Peter reads it once, twice, only to shake his head and read it again just to make sure his brain isn’t trying to trick him.
Tony adores Pepper. He was just telling Peter last month about his plans to surprise her with a week-long vacation to Maui for their anniversary. How could his feelings have changed so much so quickly?
It doesn’t make any sense.
I’m really sorry, Miss Potts, he finally writes back, not sure what else to say. About a minute later he adds, Rhodey or Happy?
Pepper Potts: Tony altered Happy’s duties so he no longer works with him directly. Jim’s back in DC now, but only after they had a huge argument. I don’t know what happened when he was kidnapped, but he’s managed to push everyone away.
Peter thinks about this, then types out, Maybe if I tried?
Pepper Potts: That’s very kind of you, Peter. But I think it would be best if you gave him his space for now. I never thought I’d say this, but during our last conversation, when I got upset… he seemed almost dangerous. Like he wanted to hurt me. It’s why I gave in and left.
Peter sits for a good half hour, unsure what to say. His mind keeps replaying the night Tony returned-- how off he seemed from the moment he emerged from the elevator.
Something is very, very wrong-- but Peter doesn’t know how to help. Finally he writes back, I’m really sorry, Miss Potts. I’ll wait for him to reach out.
Pepper Potts: Stay safe, sweetheart.
Peter really did plan to keep his promise to Pepper, as much as it hurt. He missed Tony all the time, but the man had said he’d be in touch-- until then, Peter wasn’t going to beg for his attention.
But then one night he finds himself on the wrong end of a mugger’s knife. Peter listens to Karen’s report and all it takes is her saying lacerated liver for him to ask her to call Tony… only for the man not to pick up.
“Try again, Karen,” Peter grunts out as he presses harder on his abdomen, trying to limit the blood loss.
He has Karen call three times, but all three times Tony doesn’t pick up.
Finally, feeling woozy, Peter webs up his side and starts swinging over to the tower--hoping he doesn’t pass out before he makes it. He doesn’t so much land on the penthouse balcony as collapse on it, and it takes all his remaining strength to open the sliding door and stumble into the kitchen.
“FRIDAY, get Mis’r S’ark,” he mumbles, knowing the AI probably already informed the man of his arrival.
Peter tries to work through the fog in his brain, thinks how he could help himself until Tony gets there. He knows he’s lost a lot of blood, and is probably very dehydrated. With that half-formed thought he stumbles over to the refrigerator, knowing Tony keeps bottled water there. He opens it only to take a step back at what’s inside.
Where before there had been all sorts of food, there is now stack upon stack of blood bags. Peter trips backward and lands on his butt, watching in shock as the fridge door slowly swings closed.
Before he can even begin to process why Tony would have over fifty liters of blood in his fridge, he hears the elevator swish open.
“Kid, what the--- oh, god.”
Peter twists his head to see Tony standing across the room, fists clenched, just staring at him through another pair of sunglasses-- nevermind that it’s night and he’s in his own home.
Peter sluggishly holds out a hand to him. “Mis’r Stark-- help.”
When Tony doesn’t move, Peter tries again. “Help… please.”
But still, Tony doesn’t budge, fists releasing only to clench once more, over and over and over until--
“You need to leave.”
Peter lets out a moan at that, unable to process what he’s just heard beyond that it hurt to hear. His abdomen, his head, his heart-- everything hurts. Why won’t Tony help him when he’s so clearly hurting-- maybe even dying?
“I-- I c-can’t. S-sir, please.”
“Peter, I can’t stand the fuckin’ smell, okay? Do you understand me? It’s-- shit, it’s so damn tempting, you have no idea… You need to get the fuck out now or else I’m going to lose control and some part of me still gives enough of a shit about you not to want that. Now get up and leave-- that’s a goddamn order.”
Peter is crying, and he’s not sure exactly when he started but now he can’t stop. He doesn’t respond with anything but another moan as he tries to stagger up off the kitchen floor-- and when did it get so slippery?
He doesn’t make it far. Before he’s even upright he falls back onto his side, and the searing shot of pain that engulfs his senses is simply too much. He lets out a scream, vision whiting out for a few seconds.
The last thing Peter’s aware of before he finally passes out is Tony swearing up a storm before the man retreats away from him and back to the elevator, gone without so much as a backward glance at the boy he once cared for like a son.
Peter wakes up in his own bed in Queens, side expertly bandaged. May is squeezed in beside him, sitting up and reading a book.
“Hey honey,” she says when she notices he’s awake. “How are you feeling?”
Peter thinks, trying to remember what happened before his eyes widen. “H-how did I get back here?”
May gives a sad smile. “Happy brought you back after stitching you up. He said Tony found you at the penthouse all a mess, but I didn’t get more details.”
Peter swallows back a sob as he remembers the way Tony had stood by as he bled out-- hadn’t so much as lifted one finger to help him.
Despite his best efforts he starts to cry. May shushes him as she sets down her book, turning to give him a gentle hug.
“Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
No, it’s not, Peter thinks but doesn’t say-- not wanting to worry May even more. But he can’t deny it anymore, not to himself.
It’s never going to be okay again.
May lets Peter stay home from school to recuperate the next day. He spends most of it on the couch, staring blankly at the TV that plays on mute-- his mind whirring.
He thinks about how distant and uncaring Tony had seemed from the moment he returned… about his vague answers to their questions… about how he broke up with Pepper, and pushed away Rhodey and Happy… about how he never got in touch with Peter.
Then he thinks about how Tony didn’t answer his emergency calls, and how Peter had literally stumbled across a large stash of stored blood in the man’s kitchen fridge.
Finally, he thinks about what Tony had said to him the night before… can’t stand the fuckin’ smell… shit, it’s so damn tempting, you have no idea… I might lose control…
Peter thinks about all of it, and the conclusion he comes to seems insane-- absolutely fucking insane. It’s impossible, right? It has to be.
Peter’s phone pings sometime in the late afternoon, and he picks it up with shaking hands. It’s a message from Tony.
Tony Stark: Don’t ever come back here, Peter. Stay far away from me if you know what’s good for you.
As Peter sets his phone down, some part of him still thinks his conclusion seems impossible.
That is, until he realizes with a start: his senses haven’t picked up Tony’s heart beat even once since the man came home.
Peter never responded to Tony, and Tony never reached out again. For the first week Peter warred within himself about telling Pepper, Rhodey or Happy about his suspicions, but two things stopped him. First, he has no actual proof. And second-- Tony wasn’t actually hurting anyone.
Not that stealing blood is okay-- Peter doesn’t think so. But it’s not stealing a life either, not directly.
As long as Tony has enough humanity left not to kill, Peter decides he can live with keeping his ex-mentor’s secret.
And if it’s also because part of him refuses to give up hope that the Tony he loves and who loves him is still somewhere in there, well-- Peter has nobody to tell anyway.
Three months later, and Peter is swinging through Manhattan. He never visits the tower but he still patrols around the area occasionally-- he can’t have any criminals thinking Spider-Man’s abandoned the area entirely.
He’s about two blocks from the tower when he hears it-- a nearly imperceptible pained cry coming from a dark side alley. Peter swings down, landing almost silently on the wet pavement, and knows right away that what he sees before him will be seared into his mind for the rest of his life.
Tony is crouched in a corner, holding up the torso of a woman that appears to be unconscious-- which is bad enough. But then he looks up when Peter lands, and that’s when Peter sees the worst part-- there are two puncture wounds in the woman’s neck which are steadily bleeding.
Puncture wounds which perfectly match the huge incisors peeking out from Tony’s crimson-stained lips.
“Get off of her!” Peter cries out, rushing forward only to stop a few feet away, unsure of how to proceed. Because this isn’t just any common criminal-- this is Tony.
Tony tosses the woman down haphazardly before standing up and adjusting his suit coat as he casually eyes Peter.
“Hey kid. I wondered when our paths would cross again.”
“What are you doing?” Peter asks in response, and it takes everything to hold back the sob sitting in his throat.
Tony takes off his sunglasses, and that’s when Peter sees them-- two deep red irises, staring back at him. No wonder Tony always covers them up.
“Don’t play dumb, Pete. You know damn well what I’m doing-- you’ve known since the night you nearly died in my kitchen. It took every last ounce of my goodwill not to bleed you dry then and there, you know that?”
When Peter doesn’t respond, Tony continues. “It’s almost funny-- I can remember caring about you-- loving you like a son. Loving you, and Pep-- Rhodey, Hap.”
Tony lets out a sharp laugh, the tension in the air between him and Peter somehow growing. “I can remember the feeling, and yet since the moment that Brooklyn pack turned me, it’s been getting harder and harder to find any love left in me, for you or any one of them. I let you all live out of nostalgia, and nothing more. But I’ll tell you what, kiddo.”
Tony steps even closer to Peter, fangs retracting. He stops only when he’s right in front of him. It takes everything in Peter not to flinch back at the utter callousness he sees in Tony’s eyes.
Tony smirks. “I’ll give you one free shot-- right now and right here. Kill me.”
Peter blanches. “W-what?”
“You heard me,” Tony replies airily. “You know what I’m doing is wrong-- I’m killing people, Peter. You - Spider-Man - can’t let me keep doing that. Well, here you go kid-- I won’t even fight back. You and I both know it’ll only take one good punch from you into my rib cage and you’ll be holding my dead heart in your hands. So, do it. End this-- right now. Put me out of my misery.”
Peter’s breaths quicken as Tony talks, unable to fathom what the man is saying. Because yes, Tony is murdering people now-- the line that stopped Peter before has now been inarguably, terrifyingly crossed. But it’s Tony-- his mentor, his last living father-figure.
And yet letting him go would go against everything Peter - everything Spider-Man - stands for.
Peter raises his arm and pulls it back, aiming right for Tony’s heart. His fist shakes as he holds it up, trying to summon the strength to do what he knows should be done.
I’m sorry Tony I’m sorry Tony I love you I’m sorry—
“I can’t,” Peter sobs out, dropping his arm and pulling his mask up just enough to cover his face with his hands as he continues to cry. “I can’t do it, Mister Stark. I can’t.”
“It’s okay, Pete,” Tony says then, and something in his voice has Peter glancing back up at him warily. “I already knew you didn’t have it in you.”
Just then Peter’s spidey sense goes absolutely insane and he turns around just as an Iron Man suit barrels into him, slamming him against the alley’s brick wall. Before he can gather his bearings the suit has wrapped its metal arms around his torso, arms pinned to his sides. He’s squirms, trying to break free-- but the suit has him trapped.
Tony steps back up to him, a sly smile on his face. “You should have killed me when you had the chance, underoos. Now it’s my turn.”
“Y-you’re gonna kill me?” Peter gasps out, and he wishes he didn’t sound so afraid. But he is-- he is afraid. He doesn’t want to die.
Tony shakes his head, before bringing a cold palm up to rest against Peter’s cheek. It takes all of Peter’s willpower not to lean into it-- not to look for comfort from this heartless monster who used to be a good man. Who used to love Peter as much as Peter loved him.
“Oh no, Peter. Why would I want to kill you?”
Tony’s fangs come out again as he leans his face into Peter’s ear, breath ghosting over the teen’s bare neck. “I said I could recall loving you, remember? We were family, Peter. You were like a son to me.”
Peter closes his eyes, and just for a moment lets himself think that it’s really his Tony there with him. But then Tony’s fangs scrape against his skin, and Peter whimpers as the illusion is broken.
“And now, you’ll be a son to me once more.”