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Tony knows the second something changes. There are no alarms to alert him, like he would have expected, no red lights, no Friday glitching out. But he knows because he can’t move. He knows, because he tries to move, tries to take out another one of the robots protecting the main asshole that started all this, but his arm moves a different way.
The suit moves a different way.
This fight wasn’t supposed to be anything. A few layers above nothing. Some dickhead taking down a bank system, using robots to protect himself while he robbed one physically and the rest of the branches technically through instant move and transfer. It didn’t seem like a particularly good plan to Tony, typical low level villain bullshit, so he brought Peter along for what was supposed to be some easy back and forth. Rhodey took the south end of the bank while they took the front, and everything was going fine. Everything was fine.
Until his own goddamn suit turned against him.
Tony takes two steps back out of his own volition, and his heart starts beating faster. Normally Friday would start tracking that, but nothing comes up on the screen. The robots aren’t highlighted anymore, and one blasts him in the gut. They aren’t very strong and he only stumbles a little bit, trying not to panic.
“Friday,” Tony says. “Reboot. Something’s—something’s up.”
His eyes dart around and he gets hit again, and Tony groans in frustration.
“Friday? You hear me? Any of this getting through?”
No response. Fuck.
“Pete!” Tony says. The suit makes him start heading forward, and it feels weird as hell, taking steps that he doesn’t mean to take. He needs to stop this now. Immediately. Last week. “Peter. Where are you? I’m compromised, I don’t know what the hell happened.”
Tony wants to look around, but he fucking can’t, and Peter doesn’t respond.
“Shit shit shit.” Tony severely underestimated this guy, if this is on him, because Tony has a backup plan for every backup plan in his suit, has protocols for every misstep, every frayed wire, every glitch, and yet here he is, someone else’s weapon.
The true horror of it doesn’t set in until Tony sees Spider-Man swing by—Tony raises his own hand, aims and locks on.
“No, no!” Tony yells, panicking. “No!”
He shoots a repulsor blast, and knocks Peter out of the air.
“Jesus Christ, no.” He feels dizzy, sick, and he marches towards him. Tony tries to struggle, gritting his teeth. “Friday, back door protocol. Not Spider-Man. Spider-Man is on the no shoot list, do not—”
He raises his hand again.
“No, no—”
Another blast. Thankfully, this one misses Peter, but Tony sees the kid pop up in the bushes, uneasy on his feet. He’s still got his mask on, but Tony sees his eyes contract in confusion. Their communication link has been severed, and Tony can’t hear him, but he knows Peter is questioning what the hell is going on. The kid spins around in a circle, reaching behind him, like he thinks Tony was shooting at him because he had one of the robots attached to his back.
It makes Tony’s heart ache. “Friday, fucking—Jesus, uh, green alert, can you hear me? Shut down, full out shut down, do not—do not target Spider-Man. Code words Protect Webs, c’mon, c’mon, please hear me.”
He doesn’t raise his arm again, and Peter quickly approaches, webbing up a robot that gets too close to him. He’s making all kinds of hand gestures, and Tony sees Friday trying to work—his heads up display pulses green, but then when Peter gets too close, Tony grabs onto him with two hands and tosses him to the ground.
He can feel it. He can feel himself doing it, when it’s the last goddamn thing he wants to do. And Peter clearly didn’t expect it at all. Why would he?
“Fuck!” Tony yells, and he can’t even clench his fists, he can’t even fucking do that. This is bad, this is really fucking bad. “Friday, get me out of here, eject, eject, get me out, get me out. Code, uh—code snowball, let’s go. Let’s go, that should break through whatever’s holding you up. Emergency! Let’s get on it!”
Nothing. Nothing. Tony’s whole body is vibrating with panic and fear, and he’s trapped, trapped in this goddamn tin can of his own making. He stomps towards Peter again, and the kid is scrambling back up to his feet, gesturing towards Tony more dramatically. He’s smart, he’s smart, he’s gotta get this. He’s gotta know Tony would never shoot at him unless something was really wrong. He’s gotta know that.
A group of robots fly by and shoot at them both, but Peter webs one up that knocks out the other two before refocusing on Tony.
“Get out, kid! Get out, it’s not me, it’s not me! Go, go! Please!” Tony yells all of it but it’s clear Peter doesn’t hear him, because he rushes towards him again, getting closer and closer. “No, no, please, kid, c’mon—Christ, where the fuck is Rhodey?”
Then, when Peter is directly in front of him, Tony can hear him speaking. Not through their coms connection, but like he’d speak to a worried citizen on the street.
“Tony what’s going on, who did this, what can I—”
Tony clocks him across the face. The kid drops, and Tony cries out like he’s the one that’s hurt, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He opens them again when he feels himself moving—Peter gets back to his feet, and Tony throws three more punches that Peter dodges, and one that he lands. Peter falls again, like a rag doll, and Tony realizes he’s being entirely defensive. He’s holding back, knowing he’d hurt Tony if he attacked him.
Jesus Christ.
Tony starts forward, but Peter slips under his legs, rushing around behind him. He needs the kid to go, he needs him to get the fuck out and not worry about him, because he’s stuck, highjacked, moving around like a goddamn Terminator. Peter can’t even hear him. Tony can’t even talk to him.
Then the suit takes off into the air, and Tony shoots an actual fucking explosive at his kid, but thankfully Peter is fast and webs out of the way of the ensuing explosion. But the suit picks a pulse bolt next, and before Tony can register his shock, it hits Peter head on.
Tears are gathering at the corners of his eyes, and he wishes he was as strong as Peter is so he could bust the fuck out of this thing and draw its fire away.
Robots are still flying around, shooting lasers everywhere. Tony tries another code as he lands, marching towards Peter, and the kid is lying in the middle of the street, trying to get up.
“Friday,” Tony croaks, stomping towards him. “Friday, uh, SOS, SO fucking S, 19912008, eject, emergency shutdown, read my fucking fingerprints, tell me—fix this, come on, you have to be hearing me—”
Horrifically, Tony grabs Peter up and headbutts him twice in a row—Tony can hear the kid groaning, his hands reaching up and hanging onto Tony’s arms. He grips them hard and warps the armor, but then he loosens his hold.
“Okay, we’re gonna figure this out,” Peter says, giving Tony a shaky nod.
“No, Pete, c’mon, knock me the fuck back, I know you can do it,” Tony says, voice breaking. He knows Peter is stronger than him, knows he can deal with the Iron Man suit if he really sets his mind to it, but Peter is Peter, and he won’t hurt him if he can avoid it, even if Tony is fucking beating him to a pulp.
Tony can’t think about it for long before he’s diving into a full blown panic attack, because he knocks the kid off of him, and shoots him with a repulsor blast. Tony looms over him, reels one arm back and hits Peter again, three times in the head—he knows how fucking awful it is to get hit with one of the fucking iron fists, and this Spider-Man suit doesn’t have enough armor and protection.
He can’t protect him.
Tony wants to stop, he’ll do anything to fucking stop, and Peter holds up his hands, both of them shaking, as if in surrender.
“Friday, help me,” Tony breathes. “Help me, stop this, fuck.” But he doesn’t stop. He shoots another repulsor blast, but Peter rolls away, and he limps two steps before he shoots a web and flies around behind him.
“Goddamnit, goddamnit, goddamnit,” Tony whispers, helpless, but then he feels Peter knock into him from behind, and shoot the suit with a taser web.
“I’ve got you,” Peter says, exhaustion clear in his voice, and now Tony isn’t moving at all, the electricity surging through the suit but aimed in such a way that it isn’t reaching him inside. Peter is so fucking smart.
Another second passes, and Tony feels Peter ripping at the suit. Then the screen flashes red. Everything goes dark. He can feel himself fall, knees buckling, and then what must be Peter lowering him to the ground. Tony feels ridiculously relieved, even though he’s trapped in his own fucking suit, the suit he made, and it’s dark and he doesn’t even know what the hell is going on with the robots or the banks but none of it matters because he was fucking attacking Peter. He doesn’t even know what he did to shut it all down, but they’ve worked together enough for Peter to know how the suit works. Thank God.
He hears the kid knocking around for a few long seconds, and then he doesn’t hear anything anymore.
Tony’s mouth goes dry and his eyes dart around. “Peter? Jesus, you there? Can you hear me?”
Nothing. Tony knows, logically, he wouldn’t be able to fucking hear him. But he needs him to fucking hear him because this has been a clusterfuck and he’s about two seconds away from an anxiety attack because Peter was banging around out there and now he’s not banging around out there.
You did attack him, asshole. You shot him with multiple repulsor blasts. You knocked the shit out of him. You did this.
He swallows hard, his guilt overwhelming him.
He can raise his hand just a little bit, and it reminds him of his first suit, the cave, the beginning, and he almost blacks out. He knows Peter is capable as hell and can take this shit on without him, but he did just attack him and hurt him and there are still bad guys out there and—
The suit opens up around him, and Tony winces against the light.
“Jesus Christ, how the hell did that shit happen, Tones?” Rhodey asks, hovering over him.
“God, I don’t know,” Tony says, grabbing the hand Rhodey extends. “Negligence. Stupidity. The Arrogant Tony Stark. Where’s Pe—Spider-Man?”
“You’re lucky as shit they didn’t get me too, so I could open you up manually and get you out, or we would have needed a fucking chisel,” Rhodey says, fast. He tugs him completely out of the suit and Tony looks around, and sees Peter splayed out on the ground a couple feet away. Tony’s breath catches, and Rhodey keeps on. “He’s right here, he got into your head, pulled some wires like you were a toaster, Tony. But he knew the right ones.”
Tony’s heart is in his throat, and he can’t think, can’t remember whether or not he taught Peter what to do in case of this exact scenario, but it doesn’t matter because the kid is out of commission and that’s his fault.
Tony rushes over and drops to his knees, turning Peter over. The eyes on the mask are dark, and Tony presses shaking fingers to Peter’s neck.
“He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s passed out—”
“That’s not fine,” Tony says, gathering Peter up, his whole body limp. “That’s not fine.”
“They’re on their way with the quinjet, Tones, and everything’s taken care of with the asshole in the bank and his army of fool droids.”
“Bud,” Tony whispers, patting Peter’s cheek. “Buddy. Hey. Wake up. Wake up, you fixed it. You fixed it, now—wake up, yeah? C’mon.” Tony waits for five seconds, and blows out a harsh breath, looking at Rhodey. “Okay, where are they? We need to get somewhere where we can take his mask off.”
“Three minutes out, not even, and Pepper’s already got the perimeter secure, nobody’s coming over here. Take his mask off.”
“No eagle eyes?” Tony asks, glancing over his shoulder.
Rhodey shakes his head.
Tony looks at Peter again and quickly peels his mask off, and horror washes over him. Peter’s face is a bruised mess—forehead littered with reds and purples, cheek busted open, nose bleeding.
You did this you did this you did this
“Tony, he’s gonna be fine, he heals, it’s not your fault.”
Tony swallows hard, eyes straining. “Yeah, uh, double time on that quinjet.”
~
Peter squeezes his eyes shut tight. He’s somewhere soft. But that doesn’t make sense. He’s—he was fighting. He was—oh shit oh shit, oh shit! Tony!
He scrambles up, opening his eyes. His whole body rasps in pain when he moves, but he still moves, glances around in a panic because something was going on with Tony, and he’s in the med bay, shit, but—where’s—
“Hey, hey, hey, chill out,” Tony’s voice says, and suddenly he’s beside him, his hand on Peter’s shoulder.
But Peter is less than chill.
“Are you okay?” he asks, breathing hard through his mouth. “Oh my God. That was so scary. I knew something was wrong but at first I thought there was something on me and you were trying to get it off, but then I realized like, you were compromised and I tried to remember what you told me if I needed to shut down the suit for some reason—”
“Take a breath, Pete,” Tony says, glancing away from him, hand still on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Peter says, shaking his head.
“No—”
“But are you okay?” Peter asks, and he’s still breathing hard, and his chest hurts, and he feels like there’s a bandage there. There are definitely a couple little ones on his face, and one across the bridge of his nose. “That freaked me out. Do they know who did that?” He reaches up and wipes his eyes. Whoa. The world tilts. “Geez. Sorry.”
“Stop apolo—kid, are you dizzy?”
“I think I sat up too fast,” Peter says, leaning back against the pillows. It feels a little bit too bright in here, too. He groans, feeling everything that’s wrong with him more than he did in the moment before.
“Relax,” Tony says, pushing him back further. “Just relax, you—shit, kid, you went through a lot.”
“No, it’s fine,” Peter breathes, closing his eyes.
“It’s not fine.”
“I’m totally cool,” Peter says, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, like Tony told him to do in the hundred other times he landed in here. “Uh. Uh. Are you alright? What happened to the bad guy? And the robots.”
“Bad guy arrested,” Tony says, hand around Peter’s forearm now. “Robots—mostly dismantled. I kicked one on my way out.”
Peter scoffs and opens his eyes again. And he sees a look he’s seen on Tony’s face a lot. Guilt.
It’s way, way too familiar.
“Peter,” Tony starts.
“No way,” Peter says, narrowing his eyes. He knows what’s coming. “Stop. Don’t start.”
“Stop? Don’t start?” Tony smiles a little bit. “Which one?”
“Both,” Peter says. He tries to sit up again, gritting his teeth, and he can hear Tony’s heart beating faster.
“Peter.”
“No, like, no, what happened isn’t your fault, at all, so don’t start with that, please, it’s like you want to be guilty and I’m tired of it because you don’t deserve it. Your suit got hacked and they could have easily done something crazy like crushed you to death inside of it and I’m sure you wouldn’t have felt guilty about that.” He scoots back, crossing his arms over his chest, which knocks Tony’s hand off him. Maybe he’s a little mad.
“I might have,” Tony says. “I think some people might have been upset.”
That almost makes Peter angrier, and he rolls his eyes. “If the same thing had happened to me and I attacked you, would you blame me? Would that be my fault?”
“No—”
“Exactly,” Peter says, cutting him off before he says something else dumb. “You’d be telling me to stop apologizing. Like you always do. Like you Just Did. So. Stop. Are you okay?” His voice breaks on the last word, with emphasis, and for some reason, that brings tears to his eyes. He quickly wipes them away, his arms aching when he moves them. But he’ll heal.
“I’m okay,” Tony says, softly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” Peter says. “Did you figure out how he did it?”
“Not yet,” Tony says, sighing. “Been sitting here for half an hour. Your aunt’s on her way, and then I’ll probably start working on it.”
“Can I—can I help you work on it?” Peter asks, tentatively. “Because I wanna make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Of course,” Tony says. “You’ll probably know more about it than me.”
Peter laughs. He doubts that’s true, but he’s not gonna say anything.
“You did a really good job, Peter,” Tony says, his voice breaking now. “You took care of the situation. Not everybody would have known how to stop that from the outside, but you—you did. And you were—strong enough to do it. You really know what you’re doing, kid. You’re a powerhouse and I’m—I’m so proud of you.”
Peter swallows hard, cracks his jaw, so many memories and worries swirling around in his head, and no matter how much it hurts, he rearranges himself, pulls himself forward to sit alongside Tony on the edge of the bed. Wincing all the way.
“Peter. Peter. Jesus.”
Peter shakes his head, and hugs him. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, and tries not to remember the Iron Man suit surging at him, knowing Tony was stuck inside, unable to stop it. Peter knows how hard that must have been for him. But he doesn’t want him to be guilty. Peter fucking hates that.
“Thank you,” Tony says, ruffling Peter’s hair. “Don’t hurt yourself insisting on a hug.”
“I’ll always insist on hugs.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Peter holds him tighter. “No more hijacking for you.”
Tony sighs, and Peter feels him nod. “No more highjacking.”