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It was nearing midnight when Peter flung himself onto the top of the nearest building. He knew he it was late, he knew it was a school night and he knew that his aunt would be angry with him for not arriving back home at the requested eleven-thirty but none of that mattered at the moment. His already labored breathing was morphing into quick, shallow breaths as he stared wide-eyed at his blood-covered hands. He tried to frantically wipe it away on the rough cement but it was of no use. It had already absorbed into his gloves and was clinging to his fingers making them feel both slick and sticky at the same time. "Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!" he desperately chanted as he fruitlessly continued to run his palms over the rooftop.
"Peter, your heart-rate is elevated," Karen said before rattling off a laundry list of other vitals that were outside of his normal range but Peter wasn't listening. As such, she continued to recite the numbers and make suggestions before mentioning the eventuality of contacting Tony Stark.
With his mind racing, his chest clenching, and his senses heightening, the sound of the AI's voice was grating on Peter's nerves in a way that it never had before. "Shut up!", he shouted, "Just shut up! Please," he begged but Karen continued to speak. IN want of quiet, he reached up and ripped the mask off of his head, taking in a gasping breath when the chill of the night hit his face. It was a shock at first but soon he was gulping in the frigid air as if it were giving him life. Then he was abruptly reminded of the blood on his fingers when he felt it smear just above his eye as he attempted to brush back some loose hair.
With his awareness having been brought back to the tacky fluid that was still coating his gloves, Peter realized that not only could he feel it but he could also smell it. The coopery scent causes his stomach to twist and his breath to catch in his throat. He scooted backward towards the small light that was illuminating the corner of the rooftop beside the access door and looked himself over. It wasn't just his hands. It was his chest, his stomach, his legs. There was so much blood and he was suddenly taken over by an ardent desire to stripe the suit off right there on the rooftop.
He'd not had time to do more than press the spider emblem on his chest when he heard the whir of the Iron Man armor quickly approaching. Peter glanced upwards and tracked the glow of the thrusters until the suit landed with a metallic thud in front of him. He stared at it for several seconds before going back to tugging the sodden cloth away from his chest, nearly gagging at the way he could hear it peeling off of his skin.
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Tony had been in his living room when the round of alerts had popped up on his watch. It wasn't anything worrisome. The teenager's heart-rate was a little higher than usual but not frighteningly so. It was easy to write it off as a vigorous fight or a particularly exhilarating series of aerial acrobatics. He cleared the notification and went back to the news without a second thought. It wasn't until the same message popped up several minutes later with a series of other irregularities that his concern grew. Though the proverbial straw had come when he was notified that his kid had carelessly removed his mask in a heavily populated area.
Without a second thought, Tony engaged his armor, had his AI contact the boy's aunt, and started towards the coordinates that the AI had sent to him. It wasn't until he was in the air that he began to go through the spider suits video feed. He started with the last ten minutes and nearly choked when he saw the dark stains covering his kid's body. A second look at the teenager's health stats left him slightly baffled. There was no indication of any sort of injury beyond a few bruises to the ribs. He didn't have time to research any further before he was landing.
For several seconds Tony found himself unable to do anything other than stare at the boy before him. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to find but seeing his kid in such a distraught state had caused his brain to momentarily misfire. He didn't know what to do. Hell, he still didn't know what had happened. He was snapped out of his stupor when Peter started trying to hurridly rid himself of the tainted suit. It was then that he became acutely aware of the security cameras that were surrounding them. The teenager had already removed his mask, thus exposing his face to anyone who was watching and that was bad enough. "Friday, take care of the security cameras. Wipe them clean of the last hour and keep them off until we're out of sight," he said before kneeling down in front of his kid.
At that point, Peter had managed to remove on arm from the clinging material and was uncoordinatedly working to free the other. Tony's eyes fell on the dark streaks covering the boy's exposed skin and swallowed hard. "Stop, Pete. You need to keep that on. I didn't bring anything else for you to wear," he whispered, unsure if his kid could even hear him. He seemed to be singularly focused on getting out of the suit. It was surprising that he'd not ripped it to shreds in the process.
"I can't! I need it off. I need to get it off," Peter wildly shouted but his movements had lost their vigor as he went from nearly hyperventilating to dissolving into tears. "I need to get it off. Please, get it off."
"What happened?" Tony asked in lieu of offering assistance but no answer came. His kid was still relentlessly and listlessly pulling at the suit, triggering his gag reflex more than once. It was hard to watch and, ultimately, he decided that an explanation was going to have to wait.
With a deep breath in through his nose, Tony reached out to help his kid strip down to his boxers. Though the removal of costume didn't seem to offer the boy any reprieve because his skin was stained as well. To make matters worse, seeing it had caused the teenager to fall back into another panic and he began to claw at his skin.
"Stop that. Pete, stop. You're hurting yourself," Tony said as he tried to hold back his own panic. "Come on, kid. I'm going to get you out of here so we can clean you up. Just give me two minutes," he practically begged before motioning for his own AI to send him a second suit. One that could safely carry his kid back to the tower where he would be more equipped to help him.
Tony continued to try and soothe Peter until the suit arrived, enveloping his kid in its impenetrable shell. As it took off, so did he. He continued to offer mild encouragement as they made their way across the sky but as the time had passed the boy had become quieter and quieter. To the point that, as he was helping him through the penthouse towards the large master bathroom, it was as though he was guiding a ragdoll rather than a teenager. "Almost there," he murmured into the boy's ear while nudging him into the large shower and urging him down on the bench before turning on the water.
As Peter sat there and allowed the warm spray to pelt against his back he could see the blood swirling in the water, turning it red before it was pulled down the drain near his feet. "There's so much of it, Mr. Stark," he whispered, properly acknowledging his mentor for the first time since he'd come to his aid. "How, how can there be so much?"
"I don't know, kiddo. You tell me," Tony said softly as he rolled up his sleeves, lathered up a soft washcloth with soap, and began to run it up and down Peter's arms. When the bubbles turned from a pristine white to an angry red, he rinsed it and started over again, repeating the process until the boy's limbs were no longer coated in blood. "Turn around, Buddy," he quietly requested, grabbing ahold of his kid's elbow when it looked like he would topple over when he tried to stand.
With Peter facing him, in full light, Tony was able to see the anguish etched across his features and it made his heart skip a beat. He wanted to ask more questions but he but his tongue. There would be time for that later when his kid was clean and less shaken. With that in mind, he took the newly rinsed cloth and started to gently wipe his kid's forehead. "Close your eyes, Pete," he said to prevent any of the sweet-smelling soap from slipping down into the boy's already red-rimmed eyes.
After washing Peter's face he moved on to his shoulders, chest, torso, and legs before taking each of his hands into his own and used a soft brush to scrub the remaining blood out from under the boy's nails. As he did so, the only sound in the room was that of the shower's relentless spray and the drains constant gurgle. It felt strange. He'd never seen his kid so still or quiet before.
Once he was able to look the teenager over without finding any more evidence of whatever had taken place earlier in the evening, he decided he may as well finish the job and reached upwards to grab a bottle of shampoo from the shower's ledge. He squeezed some out into his hands and rubbed them together before working his fingers through his kid's thick curls causing the boy to whimper and lean into his touch.
It wasn't until Tony was pulling Peter out of the shower and wrapping him a large fluffy towel that anything else was said and even then it was just a few mumbled instructions. "Wait here, Buddy. I'm going to go grab you some clothes," he said before disappearing behind the door.
When Tony stepped out of the room Peter was suddenly overwhelmed with loneliness and ended up falling to his knees on the bathroom's thick rug. He squeezed his eyes shut and was met with unwelcome images. Not just from that night but also from another, one that would be forever imprinted in his memories. He'd broken down completely, folded in half with his head on the floor when he felt a pair of callused hands rest firmly on his exposed shoulders.
"Pete. You're okay. I'm right here," Tony said as he sat down and tried to pull his kid into a more upright position. All he'd been trying to do was to get the boy to look at him. He'd not been prepared for his kid to then collapse into his arms, wearing nothing but boxers and a towel that had been haphazardly draped over his lower back. In the back of his head, he knew that the position they were in should have left him feeling awkward but it hadn't. They had grown closer to one another and running his hand up and down the crestfallen teenager's spine felt like second nature.
Peter's heart-wrenching cries lasted for quite some time before they slowed into silent tears. Then and only then did Tony pulled himself away from the teenager's enhanced grasp. "I need you to get yourself dressed, Buddy," he said as he stood up with the support of the near-by counter. His back ached from the time he'd spent on the floor but he didn't regret it. He'd do it a hundred times over if it meant he could comfort his kid. Then, after placing a stack of folded up pajamas in the boy's hands he exited the room saying "I'm going to be waiting for you right out here" as he went.
With his eyes on the door the whole time, Peter hurriedly changed into the comfortable clothing and took a moment to relieve himself before stepping out into the bedroom where he found Tony sitting at the edge of a large bed. The concern that was wrinkled across the man's brow caused him to hesitate and look down at his toes. Now that he was clean and mostly calmed the situational embarrassment was beginning to seep in. It occurred to him all at once that his mentor had just bathed him, washed his hair, and held him on the bathroom floor while he cried like a toddler. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," he said at such a hushed volume that he wasn't sure the man could even hear him. He had to look up to make sure.
"Kid," Tony uttered with care, "You don't have to apologize."
Despite the man's words, tears started to swell in Peter's eyes. He wasn't sure how he could possibly have any left but still, they came, tracing down his cheeks in silvery rivulets. "I was just-" he began but his words got hung up in his mouth. He had to take several measured breaths before he felt like he could try again. "I was just so, so scared," he forced out past the lump in his throat.
With squinted eyes and a sympathetic smile, Tony patted the place on the bed beside him. He was rewarded when his kid crossed the distance between them and slumped up against him, still shivering. With his arm wrapped around Peter's shoulders, he was able to ease them both down onto the pillows. It was no surprise when the boy rearranged himself so that he was pressed into his side. "Lower the lights, Friday," he said just loud enough for the AI to register and then turned his attention back to his kid. "What happened out there tonight, Kiddo?"
It took him several minutes to gather his thoughts. Just thinking about the night's events had Peter shuddering where he lay. He was thankful that Tony didn't rush him. "There was a robbery at the corner store on Fifth and Main," he finally said as he tucked his arms between himself and his mentor in an attempt to get warm. Tony must have noticed because he sat up after and pulled the throw from the foot of the bed up so that it was covering them. "I- I didn't get there in time," he uttered with remorse.
At that admission, Tony wrapped his arm around his kid without saying a word and pulled him in a little more closely. Peter closed his eyes and savored the affection, only speaking when he was sure he could do so without his voice cracking. "When I got there, there was a man talking to the robber. I think he was trying to convince him to not steal the money. I could see the robber getting antsy and I knew what was going to happen but I couldn't stop it, Mr. Stark and he shot him. The bad guy just shot him and then took off running. The owner of the store called emergency services and I didn't know what to do so I just held the man's hand. I wanted to chase the bad guy but there was so much blood, Mr. Stark," he said, his voice shaking by the time the last syllable left him.
"You did the right thing, Buddy. You stayed with the man who had been injured and-" Tony began to placate but Peter didn't seem to hear him.
"-He died, Mr. Stark. He died right in my arms and then I panicked because all of a sudden he looked exactly like Uncle Ben. It felt like I had gone back in time and Uncle Ben had died all over again. I was just so scared, Mr. Stark. The owner of the store had to pull me away when he heard the sirens coming. Then I just- I just ran and there was blood everywhere and I couldn't get it off. No matter what I did, it wouldn't come off and I wanted it off," Peter rapidly explained, not realizing that somewhere during his speech held lost control of his breathing.
"We got it off. There's no more blood, Pete," Tony said, grabbing the boy's hands and holding them within sight. "See? All clean."
"I know, I know but- but I can still feel it, Mr. Stark," Peter strained, pausing afterward to lick his lips and carefully measure his next words. "I was there when Uncle Ben got shot too so I already knew what that much blood felt like but I didn't think I would ever have to see it or feel or, or smell it again. I'm supposed to stop the bad things from happening. I have these powers, Mr. Stark. I had them when Uncle Ben died too. I swore it would never let anything like that happen again," Peter cried. He wanted to say more but he couldn't. Instead, he let the tears fall freely and tried to take comfort in the way Tony's strong arms were wrapped around him.
Knowing that there was nothing he could ever say that would completely abate the guilt and sadness that his kid was overcome with, Tony didn't even try. He simply held the boy against his own body and allowed him to cry onto his shoulder. He wished he could do more. He desperately wanted to take away the pain and sorrow. Then a natural impulse took over and he began to sing. "Try to remember the kind of September, when life was slow and oh so mellow..." he crooned, the familiar melody spilling out of him without thought. He could feel Peter still beside him and begin to relax, that alone encouraging him to continue. "Try to remember the kind of September, when grass was green and grain so yellow..."
By the time he'd drawn out the last note, he was nearly sure that his kid was asleep. The little puffs of air that were being blown against him were even and Peter's body was lax. So, he'd not really been expecting it when he felt the boy lifting his head.
"Where did you learn that song, Mr. Stark?" Peter sleepily queried.
"My mom used to sing it to me all the time," Tony replied with a soft smile. He'd heard his mother sing along as she played that song on the piano more times than he could ever begin to count. That one song, in particular, had followed him throughout his childhood and well into his adult life. It was one of his earliest and last memories of this mother.
"Oh," Peter said, interrupting Tony in his thoughts. "It's nice."
"Yeah, it is," Tony mused, smiling again when his kid yawned so wide he could hear his jaw pop. "Why don't you go to sleep, Buddy. You'll feel so much better in the morning, I promise," he whispered. he knew the boy had to be exhausted. Anyone would be after being overpowered by so much emotion at once and he knew from experience that sometimes, allowing yourself to rest was the best thing you could do for yourself.
"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked, not feeling quite ready to be alone again.
"I can do that," Tony returned with ease.
"-and will you keep singing that song?" Peter asked next because he'd been right on the brink of slumber when the song had ended. Hearing the man's voice had been consoling and that was exactly what he needed at the moment.
"Yeah, Kiddo. I can do that too." Tony replied as he brought his hands up to his kid's head and began to thread his fingers through the waves of thick damp hair. He'd never imagined himself being in a position where he would be the one lulling a child to sleep but there he was more than willing to take on the task. It was then that he realized that he would probably do anything for Peter. The boy was practically his son.
The moment Peter's head rested heavily on his chest, he started to sign again. He'd not made it through the second verse before he could hear his kid lightly and rhythmically snoring. Even so, he continued, unwilling to leave the rest of the song unsung. Though the moment it was complete, he carefully extracted himself from his kid's hold and looked down at his sleeping form. Then, before he could stop himself he was leaning over and dropping a kiss right on the side of Peter's head. "I'm not going to go too far, Buddy. I'll still be here when you wake up."