Chapter Text
“Peter, are you sure you want to--”
“I’ll be fine, May,” Peter says, laughing as he zips up his backpack and heads out of his bedroom, smiling as May looks out the living room window.
“It looks terrible out there, Pete,” she says, moving the curtain away before turning back to face him, arms folded as she studies him up and down. “And that,” she unfolds her arms to gesture towards the thin sweater he was wearing, “is not nearly warm enough to--”
“May,” Peter says, playfully rolling his eyes as he walks up to her, “Stop worrying. I’ll be fine, look,” he shifted the bag so he could zip it open, showing some of the hoodies he’d specifically packed for this exact scenario when he says, “I’ll be set. Plus, you know Tony’s cabin is not an actual cabin right.”
May makes a face, Peter zipping up the backpack once more before he grins. “You worry too much.”
Her shoulders sag, unfurling her arms completely and beckoning him into a hug, Peter wrapping his own arms around her waist, burrowing her head into her neck as she sighs.
“That’s my job, kiddo,” she whispers, squeezing him tight before letting him go, bringing his head into her hands as she smiles - Peter returning it as she continues. “I just want to be sure you’re safe out there. Driving in the snow is--”
“Dangerous, I know,” Peter replies, May playfully nudging at his cheek as he swings the backpack in his hand back around his shoulder, nodding towards the window.
“I asked Karen and she said the storm was heading in the opposite direction anyway.”
May doesn’t seem convinced, her eyebrows furrowing as Peter pushes forward. “I’ll call you when I get there okay? Promise. I just,” Peter fiddles with the strap of his backpack a little, “I think Mr. Stark needs this.”
He waits for a beat. “I’ll miss it, you know?”
That gives May pause, knowing as well as Peter did that a surprise visit up to the cabin to see Tony would be the kind of thing Peter wouldn’t get to do in a few months.
Getting accepted into MIT had been cause for celebration, Peter still remembering how excited he’d been when he heard the news.
Tony had been just as thrilled for him as May had, joking with Peter about how much weight his recommendation letter had held as Peter had laughed him off.
Even if the idea of leaving May, Tony and everyone else behind when he moved to college was still months away - Peter chewed the inside of his cheek, knowing that Tony would be the one who would take it the worse.
He was already up at the cabin alone because Pepper and Morgan had gone on a family vacation to a national park with the rest of Pepper’s family - a trip that Tony hadn’t been able to attend because of his slow recovery and yet had encouraged them to do so all the time.
Since the world had been made right again, Tony’s recovery hadn’t been as seamless and everyone hoped it would be - Tony working harder than Peter thinks he’s ever seen him on his physical therapy and yet still struggling to regain even a semblance of his previous strength and range of motion.
It could be worse, something Tony himself had jokingly said more times than Peter could count - Peter’s mind always going back to those awful moments on a battlefield upstate when it seemed like the longest day of Peter’s life would end up being one of the worst.
Yet as Peter fiddled with backpack strap again, shifting his weight back and forth - he was determined, recognizing that for as thankful that Tony was that everything was made right - made whole - that their lives were drastically different from what they had been before the snap, not even considering the five years that they’d lost.
“I just think this’ll be good for him you know?” Peter begins, seeing the way May’s expression softens - running her thumb across his cheek once more as he continues. “I know he says he doesn’t mind when I stay here on weekends to spend time with you or MJ or on patrol but--”
“He misses you. How it used to be,” May answers, Peter nodding - glad that she understood, remembering a prior conversation from someone who had been blipped that she’d mentioned over dinner.
Everyone was objectively thankful that half the world had returned. But even after a year, it was clear that the readjustment period was emotional just as much as it was physical.
“Yeah,” Peter says, smiling back at May who presses a kiss to his forehead before sighing, Peter taking that as permission to leave as her eyes narrow, a finger pointed towards him.
“But you call me the minute you make it there. It’s not just the snow I’m worried about, it’s the ice.”
Peter smiles, turning towards the door and grabbing the keys from the counter before he looks back over his shoulder.
“I will May, promise,” he grins. “I’ll be fine.”
Peter’s fingers tap nervously against the steering wheel, instinctively leaning forward as the windshield wipers continue to furiously move back and forth.
He shivers, fiddling with the heat again as he sighs - half-regretting not taking May’s car in for a check before he’d decided to drive in this weather.
The heat had gone out about an hour into his trip, Peter glancing at the GPS on his phone to see that he still had another thirty minutes to go. He knew the drive up to the cabin like the back of his hand yet the snow storm - the one that May had been worried about and that Karen had estimated would move away from them - was coming down relentlessly, a mix of sleet and snow that further set off Peter’s nerves.
He didn’t have a lot of experience driving and even less so in the snow, thinking that maybe May’s concerns hadn’t been entirely unfounded as he absentmindedly flips through radio stations.
Some pop song from an artist who’d become famous during the blip comes on, a song that annoyed MJ anytime she heard it which only serves to make Peter laugh - leaving it alone as gripped the steering wheel once more, the song playing throughout the car as the windshield wipers continue to move furiously back and forth.
Hearing the song reminded him why he was going out here in the first place, remembering how Tony had sounded the first time Peter had rescheduled a visit up to the cabin to spend time with MJ and Ned.
Peter could hear the disappointment in Tony’s voice no matter how much he’d tried to hide it, yet still going through with his plans because he got the sense that Tony would be more upset if he didn’t.
It was something May had mentioned off-hand, a joke when Peter had turned seventeen about how he was growing up and moving on - something that Peter felt conflicted about, especially when thinking about Tony and the five years that he’d spent mourning Peter.
Tony has Pepper and Morgan but Peter knew his place in Tony’s life, the relief and the tight hug he’d given him on that battlefield a fond memory now - a gateway into the easy affection that Peter hadn’t ever known from the man before.
For as excited as Peter is for his life and for his future, there’s a part of him that misses how simple his life used to be - how simple the world used to be.
It can’t ever go back to that, nor did Peter really want it to - but as he leans forward even more, squinting his eyes to try and see beyond the snowstorm that continued in front of him, Peter thinks that this surprise trip will be exactly what he and Tony need.
A reminder that no matter what happens, no matter how much life changes - that they could still enjoy quality time together just the two of them.
Peter feels the familiar itch in the back of his neck, tensing even more so. Something is wrong, though what Peter couldn’t tell what - wondering if his senses were just going into overdrive because of the storm or because of his relative inexperience.
The snow is coming down even harder, Peter squinting when he sees something in the distance - only to freeze when he realizes it’s a group of deer.
Instinctively he presses on the brakes, a half-second later immediately regretting the decision as he frantically turns the wheel - hearing May’s voice in the back of his mind of what not to do only for it to be too late, the car barely avoiding hitting the deer only to skid across the road - Peter feeling a sharp rush of terror in his chest as he tried to gain control of the vehicle.
It was sudden, his panic causing him to break the steering wheel in his grip as he tried to right himself - the car skidding across the slippery pavement even more as it turns, a massive tree off the side of the road coming closer and closer. Time seems to suspend then, Peter feeling like he’s moving in slow motion - knowing what’s coming and yet being powerless to stop it.
Before Peter can even think to react, time speeds up again - the car flying over the side of the road and hitting the tree hard.
At the impact, Peter’s head snaps against the window and instantly he falls into darkness.
Peter doesn’t know how much time has passed when he finally comes to, the cold creeping all around him as he groans - his eyelids feeling like they’re weighted down, trying and failing to open them as he winces.
His head is pounding, feeling the hot and sticky liquid pouring down over his eyebrows - a part of him registering that he was bleeding but from where, he wasn’t sure. His whole body aches as he tries to move his fingers and his toes, an instinctual injury check from the variety of mishaps he’s had over the years.
His fingers move just fine but Peter can’t move his left leg, feeling it wedged tightly against the under the dash - wondering if it was broken or if it was just cramped in from hitting the tree so hard and so fast.
Peter groans again, trying to open his eyes - immediately regretting it as he blinks, feeling dizzy as he looks around.
The windshield is cracked, the steering wheel a broken mess - Peter slowly lifting his head away from the driver’s side window only to stare in confusion at it for a few moments - his mind taking a few seconds too long to recognize that the stained red of the glass had come from him.
Peter’s hands are still shaking, though whether it’s from the adrenaline of what happened or from the cold he’s not sure, slowly turning his head to search for his phone - his mind and his vision working against him as he leans his back against the headrest in defeat, not seeing it within reach.
He blinks a few times at the passenger side before shifting his head back towards the windshield and to his leg, making a feeble attempt to move it only for the throbbing pain in his head to return in full force.
He’s had enough concussions in his life to know what one feels like - though after bringing a hand to his face and feeling the blood drip down as he catches some of it with his fingers, Peter knows that the head wound can’t be the only cause for him to feel as sluggish as he does.
It’s like crawling through mud, the simple act of bringing his hand down exhausting. He tests moving his leg again only to realize now how much he’s shivering, the cold he’d felt earlier magnified even more so from however long he’s been stuck and from the gash on his forehead - a perfect storm of events.
Peter lets out a huff at his bad joke as his eyes flutter, looking out through the cracked windshield in front of him as he tries to focus - finding it harder and harder to do so.
He needs to move or at least figure out where his phone is but it’s as if even thinking of moving is a sisyphean task, feeling dizzier each time he blinks.
Peter closes his eyes for some relief, only to feel the cold wrap around him like a warm blanket - distantly aware that he shouldn’t fall asleep but being unable to stop it, his breathing beginning to slow as his head continues to throb.
Time starts to have a syrupy quality to it - Peter vaguely aware that time has passed at all only when he slowly blinks his eyes open, his limbs feeling stiff and any sunlight from the windshield long gone.
The world around him feels dark as the snow storm continues to thunderously roar outside of the car. Peter sees the snow but doesn’t feel the cold anymore - his vision blurring a little even if a voice in the back of his mind tells him that this is bad, his eyes blinking a few times as he tries to keep them open.
He has to move - he knows he has to move - but Peter finds that he can’t. The pull to sleep is stronger than anything he’s ever felt before, the storm almost lulling him back into the darkness that he’d been in just moments before.
Peter feels a warmth washing over him, sinking further and further into himself, trying to hold his head up but finding he can’t - body slumping over as he rests against the bloodied driver’s side window, head tipping forward.
The last remnants of rationality tell him that he should try and move, that the comforting warmth he feels is just his mind playing a trick against him - the sense of danger he’d felt earlier still a low hum in the background.
Peter can’t fight it any longer.
The storm outside fades into the distance as Peter feels his body relax one final time - closing his eyes and drifting into the darkness.