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Tony regained consciousness to the sound of Peter Parker. More specifically, Peter Parker calling his name, high-pitched and urgent.
He couldn’t recall falling asleep. He couldn’t imagine being tired enough to want to sleep if he was spending time with Peter. The loud hum of a car engine and tires on the road surrounded him, accompanied by a gentle jostling and vibrating sensation.
“Mr. Stark!”
His head throbbed, pain pulsing outward from his temple like someone was tapping a hammer against his skull. Or perhaps an ice pick, because wherever they were, it was cold.
“Mr. Stark, wake up!”
He felt himself being jostled again and realized that it wasn’t entirely from the movement of the vehicle but from the hands that were clutching his jacket. He finally dragged his eyes open and squinted to see Peter’s face above him, brown eyes wide and eyebrows pulled together in concern.
“Mr. Stark!”
Tony took a moment to clear his throat. “What?”
“You’re awake!”
“I’m, uh- yes. Yeah, I’m awake. I think.” He brought a hand up to rub at the ache in his forehead.
“Wow, are you okay, man? They must’ve hit you on the head really hard. You’re not bleeding though, so that’s good.”
Tony glanced about at their surroundings and pushed himself up into a sitting position. They were surrounded by stainless steel, in what looked to be the back of an armored van or truck of some kind. Perhaps a high security prison transport. Two long benches lined the walls on either side with large hooks where handcuff chains could be threaded through. He and Peter sat on the cold metal floor between them.
“Do you remember what those two guys looked like?” Peter continued. “Did you recognize them? I didn’t recognize them. They wouldn’t say anything to me after they knocked you out. I mean I tried, I tried to ask - I don’t think they know I have powers. They just treated me like a normal kid, I mean we’re not even tied up or anything. Do you have any idea what they could want? Or where they are taking us? Do you think they-“
“Alright, slow down, kid. You’re making my brain hurt.”
“Oh sorry, my bad,” Peter said quickly, sitting back on his heels to give Tony some room. The boy was bundled up in his big blue puffy winter coat, yellow scarf with black stripes (which, when commented upon, elicited a “ten points to Hufflepuff!”) wrapped up to his chin and almost covering his mouth. His nose and the tips of his ears were pink from the cold.
Tony felt the frigid air pass through him despite his woolen pea coat and leather gloves. He touched his temple gingerly, grimacing at the tender lump growing there.
“Are you feeling okay?” Peter questioned, watching him carefully. “Do you... remember stuff?”
“I remember the gas station.” He hefted himself off the metal floor to sit on one of the benches and Peter followed his lead, sitting across from him. “Putting gas in the car. You were drooling in the passenger seat.”
“I wasn’t drooling!” Peter exclaimed in horror, then murmured more quietly to himself, “Oh my God, was I drooling...?”
Tony couldn’t help a quick chuckle but then sobered again and twisted around to try and peer through the windows of the transport. If they could even be called windows. They were long strips of what must have been triple-reinforced safety glass, running high along the length of the wall but only about three inches wide, clearly only meant to allow light into the back. The glass was partially frosted over and fogged but Tony could still make out the land passing by - no buildings, just dead grass and trees covered in a light dusting of snow.
“How long have we been on this little hay ride?” He asked, turning back to Peter, who looked to be barely containing another burst of questions.
“Maybe fifteen minutes... Did you see either of them before they knocked you out? I only woke up when they opened my door and I almost fell out, but they had guns and you were already down, so I couldn’t really- I mean I didn’t- I couldn’t really do anything, I thought it might be best to wait. Before trying to do anything. They said they were going to shoot you if I didn’t listen and... yeah. I’m sorry, should I have-?“
“No no, that was good,” Tony assured, giving Peter’s bouncing knee a quick pat. “I saw one other guy at the station but I didn’t recognize him. Don’t even know if he was one of our guys, whoever hit me came up from behind.” Tony patted his breast pocket where he kept the tinted glasses that he had linked with Friday, prepared to call in a rescue, but frowned when he found it empty and glanced around the floor of the van.
“Here.” Peter pulled the glasses from his pocket and passed them over. One lens was missing, the other cracked, and the metal frames were warped and bent. “Sorry man, they smashed them. Took our phones, too.”
Tony just sighed and slipped the broken glasses back in his pocket. He was relieved to find that they had left him his watch, however, and Peter’s face brightened at the sight as well, but when Tony tried to make a call it disconnected before the first ring. He tried again, and then again, but it just kept disconnecting, and his heart sank more and more with each failed attempt.
Finally he dropped his hands and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Whatever these walls are made of must block -“
Without warning, the truck swung to one side and he slid backwards against the wall while Peter slid forward, yelping in surprise and almost toppling off the bench.
“Whoa!” Peter righted himself as the truck came to a full stop and turned to peek out of his window. “Did we just spin out or fishtail or something? I think we did, the roads look wicked icy!”
Tony gave his racing heart a few seconds to slow back down as the transport started inching forward again, then patted Peter's knee to get his attention.
“Kid.” The boy looked back to him. “Listen. When we get to wherever we’re going I want you to follow my lead, okay? Don’t come out swinging, don’t do anything impulsive. I know you could knock these guys into next week if you wanted but if there are guns involved then we need to play it smart and play it safe.”
Peter nodded rapidly, eyes bright and attentive. “Right, smart. Safe. Okay.”
“Right, like what you did before, that was a good call. Just trust me and let me do the talking. I’ve been around the block a few times and have a pretty good handle on how to deal with situations like this.”
“Okay.” His intern nodded again. His knee continued to bounce up and down. “Right. Okay, that’s good. I mean it’s not good that you’ve been in situations like this before, but like... you know what I mean. At least I hope you do. Do you know what I mean?”
“Hey,” Tony said sternly and gripped the boy’s shoulder. Peter’s leg slowed to a stop but his eyes remained wide and unblinking. “We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”
Peter gave him an unconvinced half-smile. They both knew it wasn’t a promise that Tony could reasonably make. They had been abducted after all, they were already not okay. Whatever the outcome, it was going to be a negative experience. There was no way around that.
Tony looked at the floor briefly and then squeezed Peter’s shoulder again. “I promise I’m going to do everything in my awe-inspiring power to get us out of this in as few pieces as possible, how about that?”
Peter nodded slowly and his expression settled into something more grounded. “Me too, Mr. Stark,” he replied determinedly. “We got this.”
Before Tony could reply, the truck lurched to the side once more and he and Peter both had to grab onto their seats to avoid being tossed out of them. Only this time they continued to spin until there was a loud crunch and impact on Peter’s side. Through the window behind his intern’s head Tony saw the metal beams and wooden planks of what he first thought was a tall fence.
But then the transport began to tip backwards and Tony realized in a moment of heart-stopping clarity that it wasn’t a fence they had crashed through but the railings of an old bridge. Peter gasped in alarm as the truck continued to tip and they both started to fall toward the doors, but he managed to stick one of his hands to his bench and grabbed Tony’s arm with the other, slowing his descent.
For half a second nothing happened, then the truck hit the water, doors down. Peter lost his grip upon impact and they dropped the last few feet to the bottom, the interior darkening as they began to sink below the surface.
“Oh God, this is so bad,” Peter said as frigid water began to seep up through the doors and cover their feet. “So, so bad.”
There was another jarring thunk as the truck landed at the bottom of the river. Tony felt panic begin to rise within him but flipped into crisis mode before it had a chance to overwhelm him.
“We gotta knock it back over, Pete. Count of three,” he ordered and Peter immediately nodded. Tony counted and together they rammed their shoulders into the side of the truck. It didn’t move in the slightest. They tried again but they may as well have been throwing themselves at a brick wall.
“It’s too heavy!” Peter said. “I could do it if I had more room to run up to it but it’s too small in here.”
Tony’s mind raced for a solution. They were in what was essentially a reinforced metal box at the bottom of a river. The windows were tiny and likely unbreakable anyway, and water continued to rush in. It was up to their calves already. There was barely enough cloudy bluish light to see by, and for a few seconds Tony and Peter simply stared at each other.
Then Peter’s eyes widened slightly and he snapped his fingers. “Got it. Ever heard of Kill Bill?”
The question was so out of place and seemingly irrelevant that Tony’s mind struggled to register it. “I- yeah, of course. Why, you hiding a katana under that giant coat?”
“No, but I have my fists! One inch punch, Mr. Stark!” He pushed up the cuff of his sleeve and squared up against the roof of the transport. “She punched her way out of a coffin.”
“That was wood! And a movie, Peter! You can’t punch through reinforced steel, bullets can't even do that!”
“But I have super strength and the knowledge that we’re about to die. Plus, I actually have a lot more than one inch.”
Before Tony could stop him, he reared back and hit the wall with all his strength. Tony winced at the crack that sounded in their small enclosed space and Peter hissed in pain but a small dent appeared in the metal. He punched it a second time and the dent deepened.
Tony stood frozen, paralyzed by indecision and denial and pure helplessness. He wanted to pull Peter away. He wanted to tell him to sit tight and then engineer a safe way out for them himself.
But the icy water had already surpassed their knees.
Without knowing what else to do, he took off one of his leather gloves and whipped off his tie. He grabbed Peter’s wrist and wordlessly shoved the glove on -which was way too big on him- and then wrapped the tie tightly over his knuckles. The second they were on, Peter resumed his efforts. The loud crack of his fist on the metal was dampened now, and Tony hoped it would be enough to lessen any damage done to Peter's hand.
The water continued to rise and the interior of the transport grew ever darker. The dent continued to deepen at first but then seemed to reach a point where it didn't want to go any farther and Peter paused to catch his breath, staring at it in confusion.
"It's not- why isn't it-" He took another second to breathe and then tensed up and slammed his fist into it again.
This time, however, in addition to the thunk of Peter's fist hitting the wall, there was a muffled but painfully recognizable snap of bone breaking that knocked all the breath from Tony's lungs. At first Peter made no sound, but then he stepped back and bent over, hugging his hand and releasing what started as a deep groan and ended in a quiet sob.
Peter was supposed to be having a burrito at his favorite Mexican restaurant. He was supposed to be talking and laughing and trying to convince Tony to let him pay for his own meal. He wasn't supposed to be trapped in a metal box at the bottom of a freezing river. He wasn't supposed to be cradling a broken hand and gearing up to break the other as well.
"Stop!" Tony yelled, gripping his shoulder and yanking him away from the wall before he could land a hit.
"We're going to drown!" Peter shouted right back, eyes bright with pain and teetering on the edge of panic.
For a split second the word sent him back to Afghanistan, sucking stale water into his lungs while he dreamed of air. As it was the water line had reached their waists. Tony's lower legs and feet had gone completely numb and the rest of him was lit with a fire that only the deepest cold could replicate.
"We have to puncture it," Tony said, eyes landing on the metal hooks that were screwed into the benches on either side of them. He began to unscrew the nearest one as quickly as he could, but his shaking and nearly numb fingers were doing him no favors. Peter pushed his hands out of the way and ripped the hook out with his good hand in one fluid motion, then turned and stabbed the screw end through the metal of the wall. It made a hole only about the width of a finger but he pulled it out and jammed it back in a few inches away and continued punching holes in a circle around the edge of the dent that he had already made.
When he'd made a complete circle of perforation, he dropped the hook and bashed his fist straight through with such ease that Tony felt a rush of regret for not having thought of it before. Freezing water gushed inward. Peter began peeling and tearing the metal back around the edge of the hole to widen it, motions growing frantic as the water line started rising even faster, past their chests and nearing their necks. Tony began to float but he grabbed the edge of the hole with his gloved hand and yanked on the metal as hard as he could, irrationally hoping that somehow he had also become stronger than reinforced steel. Nothing moved so he let go to avoid getting in Peter's way, who was completely submerged.
Tony's heart was thundering wildly now, the panic that he had managed to shove down earlier rearing its head again as the seconds ticked by and he was drawn further upward toward the roof of their small enclosure. When he could touch the top with his hands, he reached down into the icy darkness, grabbed onto the collar of Peter's coat, and yanked him up towards the air.
The teenager's head broke the surface and he gasped, panting and sputtering for a few seconds. Once he'd taken several full breaths and Tony was satisfied that he'd drawn enough air in to last a while longer, he released him and Peter dove under again.
The roof was inches away from the top of Tony's head when Peter resurfaced.
"Okay," he said simply.
They both took a deep breath.
Peter had somehow managed to rip the edges of the metal back to about the size of a truck tire. He held onto the jagged edge of it then looked back at Tony as though offering to let him to go through first. Amidst the tension and urgency of the situation, Tony made a mental note to have a talk with Peter about when it was okay to forego politeness in favor of survival. But for the moment he settled on shoving the boy forcefully out of the opening ahead of him.
The cold was all-encompassing and inescapable as they swam for the gray light of the surface, jabbing like a million little knives deep into his skin.
They were briefly slowed by Peter's coat - the giant puffy thing having soaked up water like a sponge and become heavy and cumbersome enough to weigh him down. After watching Peter fumble with the zipper for a few seconds, Tony pulled him closer and undid it for him, shucking the coat off his shoulders and letting it sink. He almost regretted it when he saw that Peter was only wearing a t-shirt and zip up hoodie under it, but his lungs demanded that they not waste another second.
Tony reached the surface before Peter and the first thing he registered, even before registering that he could breathe again, was the two men standing right at the edge of the snow-dusted embankment looking downriver. Guns in plain sight, glinting in the cold afternoon sun. Slowly turning their searching gazes back in his direction.
He immediately ducked back under, barely remembering to take a breath first. Peter was seconds away from breaching the surface as well but Tony put a hand on top of his head to hold him down. Guilt gripped him when confused bubbles escaped Peter's mouth but he gave the soft hair floating between his fingers a little scratch and shook his head when Peter looked up.
He pushed for the opposite side of the river, Peter following close behind, aiming for the shadow of the bridge and hoping they were far enough below the surface to avoid detection. His arms were numb. His face was numb and his eyes stung and burned. He only knew his legs were still moving based on muscle memory and the fact that he could see them kicking when he looked back to check on Peter every few seconds.
They weren't terribly far from the shadow of the bridge but it felt like ages before they reached it. Peter grew slow and clumsy in the water, cheeks puffed out and eyes growing more and more frightened every time Tony looked back. Then the water went dark as they crossed over into the shadow and Tony's arms bumped into the slope of solid ground.
He quickly snatched Peter by the back of his hoodie and drew him upward. It was a gamble -they would still be visible if the men had drawn any closer to the their side of the bridge. But Peter needed air and Tony needed to get him out of the water. The boy's spider DNA left him extra vulnerable to extreme temperatures, especially cold, and Tony didn't know how much longer he could last.
Tony got his feet under him and got both of their heads above water. Peter coughed and sputtered, heaving air into his lungs the second he could and then clinging onto Tony as though afraid he would let go again. Tony kept his grip on him tight as he hauled them both up onto the embankment.
He collapsed next to Peter on the snowy rocks, breathing heavily, muscles aching and weak. But as much as he would have liked to simply lay there for a while longer, he heard Peter's teeth chattering and rolled over to him. Tony was shivering but his intern was shuddering, shoulders curled in, both hands held protectively against his chest. Tony's heart twisted when he saw jagged lacerations on the boy's ungloved hand, the crimson blood oozing from the cuts a stark contrast on his too-pale skin. He stared wide-eyed at Tony like he had just been born, unable to process what was happening and too overwhelmed to act.
"Pete. Peter," Tony said. He didn't know what he was saying or what sort of response he was looking for. He just needed to say something. He needed to ask Peter if he was okay, assure him that he would be okay, apologize for probably being too rough with him, maybe even try to get a tired smile out of him.
But his mind seemed just as frozen as the rest of him, so he just took off his pea coat and other glove. He was too numb to feel the loss of either and while they were both sopping wet he hoped the coat would at least protect Peter from the wind chill. He pulled the teenager up into a sitting position and had to practically peel his arms away from his body to force them through the sleeves. Then he carefully slipped the glove onto his bleeding hand, wishing he had thought to do so before Peter started ripping the steel of the transport.
As soon as they were on, Peter tried to tip over onto the ground again but Tony didn't let him, taking him under the arms and dragging him to his feet. He was about to pull Peter's arm over his shoulder to help him walk but the way the teenager was shaking and kept trying to shrivel in on himself changed his mind. Instead he took both of Peter's wrists and hauled him up onto his back. Peter instinctively wrapped his legs around Tony's waist and locked his arms around his neck.
Tony looked to the other side of the river and felt a slight release of tension when he saw that the men were moving farther away, their attention drawn downriver. He squinted, trying to see what they did, and his eyes landed on a small spot of bright blue - Peter's coat caught in some branches a ways away. He quickly turned away and started up the embankment.
It was a sloppy and awkward climb. His legs were heavy and uncooperative, and the stones turned under his feet, occasionally sending his knees cracking into them. He felt no pain, but knew it would likely come to him in a big way when he thawed. Peter stayed quietly locked around him, teeth chattering in his ear and skin cold where his cheek brushed against Tony's neck.
Reaching the top finally brought them back into the weak sunlight and while it was far from warm, it was a noticeable improvement from the shadow of the bridge. He looked back once more now that they were on the road, and found that they were completely blocked from view.
He hiked Peter up a little bit higher on his back and started walking.
"Okay, we're doing good, kid. You're doing good."
He spoke to Friday through his watch, letting out a breath of relief when her voice crackled back in response, and told her to inform Happy of their situation and to get to them as soon as possible.
It was a rural road, nothing but thin forests on either side, and after about a half mile of dragging one foot in front of the other he began to consider sitting down and waiting. But Peter needed warmth, and the glimpse of a house between the trees up ahead kept him going.
It was an old house, a log cabin by the looks of it. No cars in the drive-way. Tony pounded on the front door, wondering what he could possibly say to explain their appearance. No one answered after several knocks so he carried Peter to the back of the house. It was dark and silent inside.
Tony knocked once on the back door before giving an impatient growl and busting the glass inward with his elbow. He reached inside to open the door.
Peter gave a small, shuddering gasp. "Breaking... and entering," he said through his clacking teeth.
"You can turn me in later," Tony mumbled absent-mindedly as he moved through the empty kitchen into what looked like a family room. There was a worn leather couch against the wall and he patted Peter's arms.
"Okay, down. Pony ride's over."
Peter didn't move so Tony sat on the couch to make it easier on him. "C'mon."
The teenager squeezed him a little tighter. "But you're- w-warm."
Tony gave a faint chuckle, briefly entertaining the idea of just sitting there until help arrived. His whole body ached, leg muscles trembling and weak from overexertion. "I gotta find the thermostat. And blankets. And I start charging for rides after the first mile."
Peter uncurled from around him, then laid down and immediately curled up again. Despite his fatigue, Tony moved quickly through the unfamiliar house, flicking lights on, cranking the heat and lucking out when he found a heating blanket in a closet.
He returned to the sad, shivering puddle of a boy and pulled the wet coat off of him before wrapping him in the blanket and plugging it in, dialing it up to its highest setting.
Finally he collapsed into a nearby easy chair, leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath. For a few minutes they just sat together in silence, listening to the boiler rumble to life in the basement and the radiators creak as heat began to seep into the room.
When Tony opened his eyes again he found Peter staring at him, still curled in a ball under his heating blanket, and couldn't help but smile. "How're you doing under there, Underoos, you okay? You getting warm?"
Peter nodded.
"How're your hands?"
"I'm starting to feel them again. Kinda wish I couldn't."
Tony furrowed his brow. "There might be some painkillers-"
"Don't," Peter said before he could even move to stand. "Just... they're not bad yet, just sit and... rest and stuff." He shuffled toward the arm of the couch, closer to Tony. "You should have a blanket too."
Tony looked about and then flopped his arm to the chair next to him, dragging over a red plaid afghan and wrapping it around himself. His skin was starting to sting and tingle unpleasantly as warmth returned to him. "I hope Happy brings my check book, we're completely ruining these nice people's furniture."
He was hoping to get at least a hint of a smile out of Peter, but the teenager just gave him a partial nod and laid his head on the arm of the couch, blinking a few times when a drop of river water trickled from his hair into his eye. He looked just a little bit lost - unsure and uncomfortable, and not just physically. It occurred to Tony then how traumatic what they had just experienced really was.
After a few seconds of internal debate, he dragged his chair closer - body screaming in protest at the effort - until he could comfortably rest with his elbow on the arm of the couch. He laid his hand gently on Peter's head and left it there, relieved to find that it was warm. At first Peter just stared at the floor, but then he surreptitiously shuffled ever so slightly closer.
After a few more moments of silence, his tired eyes darted up to meet Tony's.
"That was scary," he murmured.
Tony felt a pull on his heart and rubbed lightly at Peter's hair with his fingers. "I know. I'm sorry, kiddo. That sucked big time."
"Hey, you know that was her name."
"What?"
"Kiddo, that's what he called her. Badass one inch punch lady. Her last name was Kiddo."
Tony raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? Well, of the two kiddo's, I think I can say with a fair amount of confidence that you're the badass."
"Yeah, right."
"You calling me a liar? She only went through wood. What a wimp. You punched your way out of an armored truck. Straight through reinforced steel. Pretty amazing, I'd say."
Peter let out a sigh through his nose. "Yeah, and I broke my hand."
"And then you ripped it wide enough for us to get out-"
"-and tore my other hand up-"
"Don't- what did I say about interrupting me when I'm complimenting you?"
Peter made a face and pressed his lips together but went quiet.
"You should enjoy it and savor it, buckaroo," Tony continued with authority. He let his fingers play with Peter's curls and watched as the teenager's body started to relax under the blanket. "Write it in your diary. Engrave it on a special locket and wear it day and night. Better yet, a watch. I'll even buy it for you, I've been meaning to get you a Stark Watch anyway. Do you prefer silver or gold? Or maybe a friendly red and blue?"
A little light started to creep into Peter's eyes - something soft and a little playful. The room was comfortably warm now, and while Tony's knees were starting to throb, he found it just a minor distraction as he leaned forward.
"You know what I'm gonna do?"
Peter shook his head, lips twitching ever so slightly.
"I'm gonna pull the truck up from the river and pin it on the refrigerator."
Little wrinkles formed at the edges of the teenager's eyes as finally his lips pulled back into a wide, toothy smile at Tony's cheesy line. Tony found himself mirroring the smile as a new kind of warmth bloomed throughout his chest, and he thought, There it is.