Chapter Text
The theme of Tony’s nightmares was common. Death, injury, illness… Not his, of course. But, of the people around him. Peter, Pepper, Happy, Rhodey- the list went on. Whilst he was content that the last three on that list didn’t galivant around the city fighting crime, he couldn’t say the same for the first. Of course, he worried about the other Avengers as well. However, they’d been in the field for a long time, and Peter was his kid. He’d gone past the stage of denying it. The two had become close through missions together, lab times, sitting together on the couch watching movies… that imperceptible line between mentor and mentee, and father and son, had been worn down through smiles, laughs, and time spent together. Tony didn’t regret it one bit.
He only found that the worry that made his arc beat faster, increased exponentially. Peter was a kid. He was an avenger, but Tony couldn’t pull his mind away from the fact that he was just- 16, was it? It’d been two years since he’d met the boy in his apartment room, teasing him about his improvised suit and getting his hand webbed to the door. Ever since then, he’d seen nothing but improvement in the boy. He’d been immature and gone against his orders to only deal with ‘little guy crime’- but he’d taken down the Vulture. Through their training together, he became more and more sure that his kid was brilliant. Take the key word- kid. Kiddo, kid, Underoos, Spider-boy… his mind had latched onto the fact of his age, like how his arms had wrapped around the boy in their very first ‘real’ hug.
You could call Tony a helicopter parent. That’s because he was. He didn’t want to be like his father, and he didn’t want his boy to get hurt or killed, in the many ways his nightmares hissed into his ear every other night. This didn’t mean that Tony stopped the boy from being Spider-Man. It just meant that he kept a watchful eye on his kid, through the only way he could- through tech. Mainly, within his suit. Checking his vitals, finding out information through Karen… And a tracker. All of which proved handy to him at different times.
The last of these was his current favourite.
It had been a normal night. Peter was out in the streets of Queens, dancing with danger, with the employment of sharpened quips and bravery. His mind became so focused on the tasks thrown his way that he always seemed to be monologuing or speaking with Karen. It was a welcome distraction for Tony to cling onto, during the times where he tuned in to the feed from the Spider suit.
‘Hey- I don’t think you should be playing with that, man. That looks like it costs about twice your wardrobe. Which, given the state of your pants, isn’t really a lot, but- aw, c’mon—’
Tony snorted. Usually the boy went for puns or airy jokes, so he knew it was more serious when he tried verbal attacks on his enemy. It didn’t sound like it succeeded, as he heard a series of crashes and muffled swearing. Pretending he didn’t hear that, he gripped the table, nails digging into the wood as he waited for his kid to speak again.
All he was met with, however, was silence.
He threw a glance to the vitals and cursed. There was a dip and he noted that the crashes must have been someone knocking Peter unconscious. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tony chanted under his breath, a tad less eloquent with his monologuing than Peter, as he tapped a few keys to bring up the tracker on the suit. It wasn’t the best, given that he’d had to make it a very subtle feature, seeing how he knew the boy would probably get annoyed about it. It’d only been the other day that he’d seen him uninstall Facebook from his phone when he saw it was tracking his location without consent, ranting about reptilian overlords, whatever that meant.
Tony glowered ahead of him for a moment, as if his internal thoughts were messing with his current task of tracking down Peter. He was currently moving swiftly through the city, which the billionaire took as a sign that he was being transported in a moving vehicle. Moving vehicle- no shit, Stark, he internally berated himself, already getting geared up in the latest Iron Man suit. Once the metal mask snapped over his face, he got FRIDAY to log Peter’s tracker into his suit, so he’d be able to follow it as he flew.
From the speed Peter’s captors were moving at, however, he knew that even with him going at top speed, he wouldn’t be able to catch up with them until they stopped. They were already approaching the outskirts of the city.
“I’m coming for you, kid.” He muttered, flying out of the window, leaving fluttering papers in his wake.
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Peter decided that getting kidnapped sucked.
“I’m leaving you guys a bad Yelp review- if that even exists anymore.” He growled, struggling against his restraints. When he’d come to, he recollected being thrown out of a van and into a dingy basement, where his wrists and ankles were wrapped mercilessly to a chair with a material that even he couldn’t break through. He was forever thankful that they’d left his suit on. One, so that his identity was still concealed. Two, because he was sure Mr Stark would realise that he was missing at some point, and maybe there was some tech in the suit that might help him locate the criminal base.
It was a stupid decision, really, leaving his suit on. He wasn’t going to say it though, he wasn’t the stupid one. They might have had alien or advanced weapons and restraints, but he had his wits about him. In short: they might’ve had the brawns, but he had the brains. Aw yeah, that just about summed up his high school life. Or just school in general.
So, whilst he recognised that they’d made dumb decisions, which might lead to his eventual escape, he knew to be cautious enough about the threat that they posed to him. He could take a beating, sure. He didn’t want to, but he figured that they’d kidnapped him either just for the giggles, or, because they wanted: a) revenge, or, b) information. Since they hadn’t killed him already, he figured that he wasn’t going to die anytime soon. Which was comforting.
That comfort didn’t last long, however, as soon, the looming metal door behind him swung open with a clang against the wall. Wow, he noted, whoever smashed that door open is either real angry, or real hench.
“Oh, both.” He uttered aloud when the man came into his vision, before snapping his mouth shut. The guy was unnaturally tall and toned, with scars lining his body, giving him the impression of Frankenstein’s creature- if the creature had joined a mafia-esque criminal group and not just been a moderate killer, that is.
“You got a voice, huh?” The man leered at him. Peter noted there was another set of footsteps echoing throughout the room as a smaller built man came into his vision. The guy held a clipboard and had a mean look in his eyes, as he sat down in the chair across from Peter. All he needed was a white cat on his lap and he’d become a typical Bond villain.
“No.” Peter quipped back. His quip was a little weak, but he had just been knocked out by blunt force only half an hour previously.
The man rolled his eyes. He slicked a hand through his slimy white hair, leaning forwards in his seat. “You think this is the time for jokes? Oh- don’t worry. We’ll be having some fun soon. But… Let’s be serious for a moment, Spider-Man. I know who you are.” Peter’s breath caught in his chest. “A silly little boy playing dress-up with the Avengers. Sadly, I don’t know who you are just yet… that wouldn’t be any fun. But I can tell. I can tell from your voice, your build- and, well, just let me say- I’m sure Tony Stark, cold as he is, wouldn’t want his child getting hurt on his watch.”
Peter could deal with the digs at his age, and the annoying villain rambling persona, but he lurched forwards in his seat at the words about Tony. “You don’t know anything about him- he’s—”
“That’s just want I want to hear, young Stark.” Huh, so the man thought they were related. That at least helped to add to his cover. Until his mask was ripped off, that is. “So, my suspicions were correct. They say that blood is thicker than water. Perhaps, Stark will pay up when I bathe the floor in your blood…”
The larger man advanced towards Peter, a knife in hand. As the blade sliced through the air towards him, he shouted, “That’s wrong- it’s the blood of the covenant- is thicker than the water of th—aghh-”
His sentence cut off as the blade dug into his thigh and he screamed. He’d been stabbed before, but the burning feeling that spread through his muscle like fire never changed. He grit his teeth to stop the sound. The man wanted a ransom from Tony. He knew he could pay, but that didn’t necessarily mean these guys would be faithful in their end of the deal and free him. That might lead into constant payments from Tony to no satisfaction, and likely, want of his dangerous tech.
He couldn’t do that to his mentor- heck, his father figure. The stress would be too much on him, with the cat and mouse game of trying to get Peter back and failing. No, he was Spider-Man. He could deal with this. He’d take the hits and he’d escape.
His mind could only distract him for so long, however, as the blade was released from his skin and he screwed his eyes shut. He could feel that his advanced healing was already scrambling to sew together the fabric of his skin, which also made it hurt all the more. The wound was deep, and he knew it would fail in properly healing him, which meant he’d need stitches. Great. That meant he’d either have to deal with the pain of getting his skin sewed back together, or he’d be put into the floaty, uncomfortable haze that his super strength pain meds left him in. Neither of which sounded appealing. Of course, this was all assuming that he managed to get out of this place.
“Not so cocky now… boy…” The sickening voice of the villain rang out in the haze, along with the scritch scratch of his pencil against the clipboard as he wrote something down. Gosh, psychopath can’t even bring a pen, he thought, and then felt the knife come at him again. Peter didn’t have time to muffle his yells. One glance up told him that he’d antagonised the threat by accidentally speaking his last thought aloud. Ugh, he hated it when pain rendered the line between mind and mouth invisible.
Peter knew it was for the good of those close to him, but he couldn’t help but let the tears streak down his cheeks as he pleaded for help. If this hadn’t have happened, he’d probably be lounging on the couch with his mentor, eating a late dinner and watching a movie. He loved being a hero, but he wished the criminal population were just that slight bit more incompetent. Time stretched out into eternities as pain ripped through his body, and he wondered if he’d be graced with the peace of unconsciousness, when there was a loud crash.
Glass shattered across the floor and there was a whirring of sound as Iron Man burst into the decrepit room, eyes aglow and gauntlets posed to fire. The man who’d been previously attacking Peter turned, knife in hand, to face the new threat. Peter snorted. What an idiot. A knife ain’t gonna beat Iron Man- and it would’ve been better if he’d held me at… at knife point and got Mr Stark to disarm.
“Kid- I know you’re out of it, but try to refrain from giving the bad guys advice, for the love of all that is holy-” Tony advised him, as he threw the man across the room, where he hit the wall and fell to the ground, before turning on the next guy who was already attempting to run away.
Peter chuckled, a hysterical note lacing his tone. It was probably the exhaustion. Or the blood loss. Or the exhilaration that came with the prospect of being free from pain and escaping this place sooner than he’d previously thought. Huh. Speaking of pain, that was actually starting to recede. Blackness tugged at the edges of his vision, and he briefly wondered whether this was a new part of his accelerated healing before he slumped forwards in his chair.
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“Kid!”
It was just after he’d finished restraining the two bad guys, that he saw, out of the corner of his vision, Peter fall forwards, and he rushed to catch him. He was too late, but luckily, the restraints binding him to the chair kept him from faceplanting the ground, and he was left hanging forwards in his seat like a puppet with its strings cut. Whilst one hand kept him sitting up, the other worked to cut through the tough restraints. He felt the all too familiar weight against his chest as Peter fell towards him, as well as the ringing alerts of Peter’s vitals in his ears. Getting stabbed was bad and he needed to get his kid medical attention fast. However, he knew with the boy’s healing that these weren’t serious injuries, and he was glad that he’d managed to find him, thanks to the tracker he’d placed in his suit.
He positioned Peter’s head carefully as he cradled the boy in his arms, before wordlessly moving towards the smashed window and flying back out into the sky. Someone else would come and deal with the aftermath of the criminal base.
A short while later, which felt like entirely too long for Tony whilst his kid bled in his arms, he arrived back at the Tower. Not bothering to un-suit, he marched into the med bay, the doors flinging open in his wake.
He did un-suit when he sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair at Peter’s bedside as he watched and waited for his kid to wake up. It was stupid, really. Not that he sat there, but where his thoughts led him. The cuts had been deep and painful for his kid- but not fatal. They’d have only been possibly fatal if he’d been left to bleed out in that dingy basement. Which could have been a probability if he hadn’t had that tracker, he thought with a shudder. These fears distorted the image in front of him of Peter sleeping peacefully. It paled his skin and coated the bedcovers with blood. His breaths shortened and he scrubbed a hand over his face. He couldn’t keep doing this, he-
“Hey- Mr Stark…” Peter’s voice slurred, heavy with drug-induced sleep. His racing thoughts settled and the image ahead of him corrected. There was no way Peter could be lifeless now that he was sitting up and talking. “You alright?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Kid. Take a moment to consider which one of us is in a hospital bed.”
“Yeah,” Peter rolled his eyes, “but you’re doing that face. That face where you’re thinking too much and when Pepper forces you to make another appointment with Dr. Sanders.”
“I’m fine. Really. Just worried about you.” He replied truthfully. The kid did remind him that he’d probably need to have another session with his therapist which was fair, but he didn’t reply to it, not wanting to worry him when he was recovering.
“Well, you saved me.” Peter shrugged. “Not gonna say that it wasn’t scary but… you got there real fast, Mr Stark. Surprisingly fast… you did put that tracker in my suit, didn’t you?”
Tony nodded. “Yeah, but now I have a reason to get you not to shout at me about it. And I promise it’s only there for your safety.”
“Okay.” Peter conceded, which was a little surprising, but Tony wasn’t going to complain.
“I… yeah. Speaking of trackers- not that I think it’ll happen again but- just in case you’re not in your suit,” he paused, reaching to grab something from behind him. Peter cut him off before he started, lurching up in bed.
“No- I don’t wanna tracker in me-” he then groaned as this movement pulled at his stitches. Tony gently directed him down to the surface of his bed, taking his wrist carefully and snapping something on to it.
“It’s just a watch, kid. I put a little tracker in one of those kiddie watches, so no one suspects it’s got my tech in it-”
“Oh my God, Mr Stark,” Peter interrupted him for the second time in the span of a minute, “don’t you think that’s a little obvious?”
“I think it’s called hiding in plain sight.” Tony replied. The watch was red and gold, adorned with an Iron Man helmet in the centre of the numbers, with Arc reactor symbols along the straps. “And I think you love it.”
Even with the anxiety of the kidnapping and fear of death, as Tony watched Peter complain and gush over the watch, he found himself feeling a tiny bit safer. His kid was alive. He’d do everything in his power to keep it that way. Which might mean some more upgrades to the features in his suit…