Archive of Our Own

“I still don’t get why we have to come here at night.”

“So we don’t get caught.”

“It’s the middle of summer! No one comes here anyways.”

Peter sighs. Him and Ned are sitting together in an empty classroom in Midtown. Ned is fidgeting nervously and the beam of light from the flashlight he’s holding keeps listing uselessly to the side.

“Ned! I can get this done a lot faster if you keep the light where it needs to be.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He corrects himself and looks nervously toward the dark hallway. “This is so creepy!”

Trying not to be distracted, Peter carefully adds salicylic acid to the beaker in front of him, satisfied when the solution thickens. No class over the summer posed a problem in creating his web fluid, so they had opted to sneak in to complete the project instead. So far, it was going off without a hitch.

“You didn’t have to come, Ned. I told you that like fifteen times.”

“I’m your guy in the chair!” A pipe groans from somewhere in the darkness and Ned jumps, casting Peter’s light in the direction of the sound. This time Ned recovers quickly with a mumbled apology.

“Just give me five more minutes.”

They spend the rest of the time in silence. When they finish, Ned hands Peter the flashlight and follows him closely back into the dark. Once they step into the outside air, Ned visibly relaxes, releasing a great gust of air through his mouth. “That was badass.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter readjusts the straps on his backpack as they begin their trek to the subway. Ned struggles to keep up, and Peter slows his pace.

“Do you have another date with MJ planned?” Ned’s voice is casual. The question makes Peter’s cheeks warm, and he’s suddenly glad it’s so dark.

“Uh, yeah actually. Sunday.”

“Badass.” Ned repeats, bobbing his head in an approving nod. “What do you have planned?”

“Well I haven’t really thought about it yet.”

“You should do laser tag.”

Peter mulls over the idea in his head, picturing how MJ would react. Before he can come to any certain conclusion, twin beams of light cut through the darkness in front of them. Ned flinches, shielding his eyes with his hand. “What the- is that a car?”

Copying Ned, Peter squints into the light. “Yeah. Weird. Probably just a custodian or something.”

“It’s midnight! And summer.”

Before Peter can think of an alternate explanation, there’s a sudden rev of the engine and the car spits up big clouds of dust as it speeds towards them.

“Watch out!” Peter grabs Ned’s arm and together they run to the sidewalk. This doesn’t seem to phase the driver, and the car jumps onto the cement with them. It barely misses them, so much so that Peter can feel the heat from the engine as it whizzes past. After missing its target, the vehicle screeches to a sudden stop. Ned swears dramatically, and Peter pushes him forward. “Go, Ned! I’ll catch up.”

“Are you crazy? No way!”

There’s no time to argue as the doors of the car open sharply. Two men in red jumpsuits climb out, each holding baseball bats. More out of curiosity than anything, Peter stops running, making sure to stand in front of Ned.

“Nice parking job!”

The men don’t look impressed. They stare at Peter closely, then nod silently to each other.

“Even I can drive better than that and I don’t even have my license.”

“Peter.” Ned whispers from behind him, tugging at the back of his flannel. “Don’t insult the bad guys.”

Not particularly intimated, Peter takes a brave step forward. “Sorry to break it to you, but summer school doesn’t accept assholes.”

“Peter Parker?”

The use of his name causes Peter’s smile to falter, even if just a little. He can hear Ned whispering frantically behind him.

“Never heard of him. My name’s Flash. Who are you?”

The man on the right smiles maliciously. The look on his face tells Peter that he’s calling his bluff. “Does the name Toomes ring a bell?”

In an instant, the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck stand up. He takes a defensive step backwards, pushing Ned with him. Damnit.

“No.” His bravo is gone.

“I think you’re lying.” The man smiles again and it flips Peter’s stomach into knots. “He’s not too happy with you Pete. Set a bounty out for you.”

“A bounty?” Ned chokes from behind, and Peter steps on his foot to quiet him.

“A big one at that. He’s willing to pay a pretty penny for your retrieval. Almost every crook in the city’s after you.” Ned swears again. Peter can hear him breathing too fast. The man continues, “what Toomes needs with a kid like you, I have no idea, but I don’t like to think too deeply when this kind of cash is involved.”

Despite everything, warm relief floods through his body. Toomes didn’t reveal his identity as Spider-Man. They were after him as Peter Parker, not his alter ego. The realization gives him strength.

“You’re making a mistake. Let us go.”

The man laughs, and he feels Ned flinch. “Are you kidding? Nabbing you is gonna set us up for life! Now you can get in the car quietly, or we can make you.”

“Peter-” Ned tugs on his shirt again, but Peter steps away from his touch towards the two goons. A slight streak of guilt swoops through him at Ned’s obvious fear, but it’ll be over soon. “Alright, I’ll come.”

Ned makes a squeaky noise like a scream but stays put. The men look pleased, and Peter sees it the second they let their guard down.

It takes two clean hits to knock them out.

“What the hell!” Ned looks hysterical, grabbing at his hair and staring at the two fallen men laying in the parking lot. Shaking out his right hand, Peter walks to their still idling car and takes the key. He throws it on the roof, then returns to Ned, giving him a sheepish smile. “Peter!”

“What?”

“What do you mean what? You have a bounty on your head! That is so, so not good.”

“It’s nothing. They’re probably just lying.” The small victory has taken the edge off his discomfort, but the look on Ned’s face makes him rethink his confidence. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Ned sputters his worries all the way to the train. When they’re safely on board, he rounds on Peter and pulls out his phone. “We’ve gotta call Tony.”

“What?” Peter pulls the phone away and holds it off to his right when Ned reaches to grab it back. “No way! It’s late. We’re not bugging him about something like this.”

“He’ll want to know and you know it!”

Peter does indeed know it. It unsettles him further. “Alright. I’ll call him first thing tomorrow, okay?”

Ned hesitates. Finally, he nods. “Fine.”

“Okay.” Peter relaxes and Ned grabs his phone back fiercely. They sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Ned softens.

“Will you at least spend the night at my place?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Well it makes sense, doesn’t it? May’s out of town, so she’s safe. And on the off chance someone tries to break into your apartment no one will be there.”

Peter feels his heart twist. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds good Ned. Thanks.”

Ned relaxes too. They reach their stop and stay close together as they walk into the dark. “Tonight was scary, man. You do that kind of stuff every day?”

“Well not every day. Most days. Kind of.”

“I still can’t believe you’re a superhero,” Ned mumbles, shaking his head.

They make it to Ned’s house in good time. When they sneak back into his room, they both collapse, Peter on a bean bag and Ned on his bed. They talk for a while, and eventually Ned nods off. Peter stares at the dark ceiling, thinking carefully about what the men in the parking lot had revealed. A bounty? It was so ridiculous, but at the same time Peter wouldn’t put it past Toomes to make one.

A long time passes. His eyelids grow heavy, and slowly thoughts turn into dreams.

---

Peter blinks sharply back into reality. For a moment he’s completely disoriented and unfamiliar with his surroundings. As his eyes adjust, Peter sees the Star Wars posters on the walls and feels the bean bag underneath him and sags, feeling stupid for the sudden spike in his heart rate.

Ned’s house. You’re at Ned’s.

Speaking of which, Peter can hear Ned snoring softly. It’s just as dark as it had been when they had gotten home, but significantly colder. Peter feels himself shiver and follows the source to the window. It’s open.

Certain it had been closed when they had gotten home, Peter fights against the bean bag to stand and close it. When he reaches the glass, he sees a dark shape move in the reflection behind him and spins around to see what it is. Nothing.

Stupid bounty. Peter closes the window and locks it tightly. The cool breeze is cut off, but Peter continues to shiver. He returns to the bean bag but freezes before he sits down. His heart starts beating so fast he can feel it in his throat.

There was something here. A person. Peter can see a dark silhouette standing next to Ned’s sleeping form. He can’t determine any features, but it’s obviously a male. A long shot of fear runs through Peter’s system so fiercely it makes him sick.

“Who are you?”

The man neither moves nor speaks. Ned shifts in his sleep.

Thinking he’s simply going crazy, Peter takes a half step towards the intruder in hopes that the form disperses into the darkness. Was he dreaming?

But the closer he gets, the more his stomach sinks. Again, this time louder, Peter asks, “Who are you? Get out!”

This time Ned lets out a loud groan and begins to sit up. Peter sees his friend’s expression morph from confusion to annoyance to undeniable fear. Before he can say anything, there’s a quiet puff of air and Peter sees a thin dart lodge itself in Ned’s upper arm. He blinks slowly as he looks down at the object, then promptly falls back into his pillows.

“Ned!” Peter’s knees go weak. He takes a hesitant step back, raising his hands as if to protect the dart from hitting him too. There’s another sharp expulsion of air, and Peter feels a thin prick of pain in his thigh. It must be a pretty hardcore sedative because instantly his limbs lose their strength and he lists to the side, landing harshly on the carpet.

His eyelids flutter as finally, the shadow moves. Peter sees dark boots appear in front of his face. One lifts and connects with Peter’s shoulder, pushing him bodily onto his back.

“Target secure.”

The sedative isn’t quite doing its job with his enhanced metabolism, but showing his consciousness would expose his identity and put Ned in danger. He lays helplessly on his back, pins and needles running through his whole body. Distantly, he hears the window open once more and another voice joins the first. Two sets of hands grab him by his arms and lift him up and out onto the fire escape. His head hits the window on the way out, but he forces his face to remain perfectly still despite his watering eyes.

It’s an awkward ride down, but the people holding him are strong and manage to make the trip with relative ease. He manages to keep his eyes in a very slight squint, taking in a quietly idling car waiting for them at the bottom.

A door is opened and Peter feels his body unceremoniously hit the backseat. One of his wrists is trapped with metal and cuffed to the door. He must lose some time, because the next time he becomes aware of himself the car is moving.

“That was almost too easy.” The other person is a woman. She sounds giddy.

“It’s not over yet.”

Peter doesn’t hear the woman’s response. His ears fill with static, and when he comes back for the second time, the city lights are gone.

The soft glow from the dash shows that it’s nearly four in the morning. Peter feels a lot more like himself, and even finds it in himself to test the cuff holding him to the door. When it makes a soft noise he stops and relaxes once more.

Bright light fills the interior of the car and Peter can see the woman twist to look behind them. Her confidence wavers. “Someone’s following us. Lose them.”

The man steps on the gas with such force Peter nearly rolls onto the floor. He takes a sharp right, and the woman curses as the light remains. “Hurry up!”

“I’m trying!” He takes another savage turn that lifts half the car off the ground. It’s hard to tell what’s going on from where he’s laying, but Peter can make out the car behind them pull up to their side. Bullets ring out and Peter can’t help but gasp as the driver’s side window explodes. Wind fills the car, and the man driving swears colorfully as he swerves away from the attack.

The bullets continue, and Peter hears it when one of them hit their target. The man screams wildly and grabs at his arm as it starts to bleed. Another one finds its way into the man’s shoulder, and in desperation, he gives a violet jerk to the steering wheel.

The car flips and rolls. Peter cries out as his body is tossed across the interior, still cuffed to the door. A fierce pain erupts in his wrist, and the rest blurs together.

Finally, the car stops. It’s upside down, and Peter blinks warm liquid out of his eye as he stares strangely up at the seats he had just moments before been laying across. His arm is stretched painfully above his head, raw and bleeding from its battle with the handcuff.

Neither of those in his company move, hanging limply from their seatbelts. Peter tugs weakly at his restraint. Through the cracked glass, he sees a pair of legs appear outside the door he’s cuffed to. It’s pulled open with a horrible screech of mutilated metal, dragging Peter with it.

“Hello Peter.” This person is wearing a horse mask. It would’ve been funny if he weren’t so damn scared. Before he knows it, the cuff holding him to the door is cut and Peter is dragged through the ruin and into the dirt. He’s flipped onto his stomach, and a new set of handcuffs secure his hands firmly behind his back. He tries to worm away, but the man kneels on his back and presses a thick wad of fabric against his face. He tries to hold his breath, but eventually biology wins and Peter is out like a light.

---

“Tell me again.”

Tony is pacing back and forth in a small hospital room in Queens, trying to calm his mounting panic. Ned Leeds, Peter’s best friend, is sitting up in the sheets, pale and shaking.

“We were at the school making web fluid. When we left, some guys tried to run us over and wanted Peter to go with them. They said there was a bounty out for Peter, and that Toomes was the one who sent it.”

Ned pauses, words catching in his throat. He’s looking at Tony carefully and continues when Tony doesn’t say anything.

“We went back to my place. I wanted him to call you, and he said he would in the morning. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but I remember waking up and seeing someone in my room. He shot me with a dart as soon as I sat up. I assume he did the same with Peter.”

Tony feels his stomach twist unpleasantly. “And you’re sure it wasn’t one of the same guys from before?”

“Yeah. It was someone different.”

“Alright.” Tony’s legs feel numb. His brain is short circuiting. “Rest up. I’ll bring Peter home.”

Tony moves to leave. His hand is on the door knob. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark sir. I should’ve been a better guy in the chair.”

For some reason, Tony’s throat tightens. It’s unexpected, and he doesn’t trust himself enough to speak. He tries to convince himself that the look in Ned’s eyes isn’t hurt as he turns his back and pushes his way into the hall.

He makes his way up to the roof where he had left his suit disengaged. Once outside, he can breathe easier. He taps into his com. “FRI, track Peter’s phone.”

A coordinate pops up on Tony’s glasses and his eyes widen in surprise. It’s on the outskirts of the city. Wasting no time, he gets into his suit and blasts into the sky. It takes him just under an hour to arrive at his destination. It’s in the middle of nowhere, an old construction site standing tall and casting long shadows against the rising sun. Tony expects Peter to be in the dilapidated site, but his stomach sinks low when he sees where the dot actually connects.

He lands beside the upturned car and stumbles when his shaking legs don’t fully support him. Glass sparkles on the gravel among long streaks of crimson. One of the back doors is open and Tony sees a broken handcuff spotted with dried blood attached to the door handle. The sudden imagery that invades his mind makes him sick.

Tony drops to his knees, searching for the phone. He finds it in a pile of shattered glass, and starts when he realizes that someone is still in the car.

It’s a man. He’s lying awkwardly on the roof underneath the driver’s seat, eyes closed. There’s makeshift bandages on his arm leaking blood.

Rage boils through Tony’s veins as he grabs Peter’s phone and makes his way over to the man. He pulls him violently out of the wreckage, and the man jerks awake at the movement, looking up at Tony deliriously.

“Iron Man?”

Tony closes his hand over the wounds on the man’s arm, earning him a short cry of pain. “Where is he? Where’s Peter?”

The man whimpers as Tony squeezes. He kicks out at the gravel weakly. “I don’t know!”

“That’s not goddamn helpful!” Tony applies more pressure and the man’s cries turn into screams.

“St-stop! Please! I don’t know. We had him in the back, but we were followed and they started shooting at us. The car flipped, and when we woke up he was gone! I swear!”

Tony swears, releasing the man. He feels weak. “Who took him? Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” the man cries. “They’re after the bounty. They could be anywhere.”

“How were you supposed to hand him off to Toomes? He’s in prison.”

The man laughs deliriously. There’s blood on his lips. “Not for long.”

“Where was the hand off going to be?”

“Toomes men were supposed to come collect the kid. They come to you.”

“God dammit.” His adrenaline is fading fast, fear filling its empty space. Without another word, he blasts into the sky.

He makes one call to the Raft and another to the police.

---

Waking up the second time is harder.

Turns out, having two different sedatives in your system makes for a wicked headache, and Peter doesn’t know how long it takes him to be able to open his eyes without his vision whiting out.

As awareness returns, he realizes that he’s long from the car wreck. Instead, he’s in what looks like the back of a van. It’s not moving. His hands are cuffed behind him and fastened to something strong, keeping him pinned in the corner. He tests the strength of the cuffs and gasps when his wrist shoots with pain. With the drugs in his system and the injury, he wouldn’t be able to get out even if he tried.

“Well this is just great. Stupid bounty…”

According to his tally, it was three to zero.

The people who took him leave him in the dark for hours. His stomach keeps growling and he hums every song he can think of to distract him. He hums one of Tony’s favorites, and for some reason it makes him too sad to continue.

He’s nodding off when they finally open the doors. It surprises him, and he tries feebly to squirm away as they’re all over him, detaching him from the van but keeping his wrists behind his back. Despite his weak protests, they drag him out into what looks like an old warehouse. They toss him on a cheap folding chair and keep him there with a gun pointed in his direction.

“Well that’s not really the nicest way you could’ve done that.” Peter says defiantly, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. He’s been knocked around so much in the last 24 hours that frankly, he feels justified in being pissed.

“Shut up. Toomes’s guys are on their way to pick you up.”

“Yipee.” Peter shifts, trying to see if there are any exits he can take if the opportunity arises. There’s three doors, but all the windows are too high to reach without running up the wall.

There’s a sudden bang from outside and the men encircling him tense. One puts on a brave face and walks briskly to the closest door to the noise, opening it with his gun. As soon as he does, there’s a spray of red and the man falls backwards into the warehouse, clutching desperately at the gushing wound in his chest.

The other two men swear, raising their guns and firing at the newcomers. Something tells Peter that these aren’t Toomes men after all. In the commotion, he stands and runs for the opposite side of the warehouse. When he reaches the door he slams against it furiously and tries to twist the door handle with his hands tied. It’s pretty pathetic, and he feels the back of his throat close up at the panic of not succeeding.

“Come on, come on, come on!” The gun shots stop, but he refuses to look back. He hears heavy steps coming towards him, and finally the door opens. He sprints as fast as he can with the drugs still lounging around his system out of the warehouse, angry shouts following. The sun is high in the sky and Peter squints against it as he attempts to reoriente himself. Where the hell am I?

Blindly, he chooses left, but doesn’t make it three steps before a horrible pain wracks through his entire body. His legs stop being legs, and he falls on his side in the dust jerking brutally against the attack. It’s only after the tremors fade that he realizes he’s been tased.

“Pl-please.” Peter can’t choke out anything else before the man who shot him pulls him vertical. He moves helplessly with the movement as another car pulls up beside them. There’s a woman in the front wearing red lipstick that reminds Peter of the man he had just seen shot. Distantly, Peter wonders if he’s still alive.

“Wait!”

Convinced he’s hearing things, Peter looks into the sky where the plea is coming from. He sees a glint of red and gold and sags further against the man holding him as hope overcomes his fight. “You’re dead,” he whispers grimly.

As Tony lands, Peter feels the familiar chill of steel being pushed savagely against his temple and the cock of a pistol. Tony lifts his face plate, and raises his hands in surrender. He’s so pale, Peter thinks his mentor must be sick.

“Hey hey hey, there’s no need for that.”

“Get out of here, Stark. This doesn’t need to concern you.”

Tony bites his lip darkly, then smiles as he gestures at Peter, who despite it all, smiles back. “Well, that’s my kid you’ve got there, so it very much does concern me. Isn’t that right underoos?”

“Yep.” Peter winces as the response drives the gun father in his skin.

Despite his facade, Peter sees the worry in Tony’s eyes. He takes another hesitant step forward. “I know about the bounty. Toomes needs him alive. If you kill him, you won’t get paid.”

Peter knows it’s the wrong to say as he feels the man tense up against him. In an instant, the man removes the gun from Peter’s head and angles it down at his right thigh. Peter doesn’t even hear the shot, but he hears his scream. He collapses and the man struggles hard to keep him upright. Peter wishes he could see Tony, but his vision has faded out, ears ringing as he struggles to pull air into his chest. There’s warmth sliding down his leg that he knows is blood, but he doesn’t try to dwell on it.

His sight returns in fragments. He sees Tony out of his suit completely, hands still raised in surrender. His eyes are impossibly wide, and for a moment they connect with Peter’s before he says something he can’t quite decipher. The man’s chest behind him vibrates as he responds, and another one of the bounty hunters steps forward with a pair of handcuffs. Tony holds his arms out in front of him and allows them to be secured around his wrists. Peter feels his heart stop and start.

“No! Wha-?”

Talking is hard, but it helps bring his hearing back. The man holding him is laughing. “Look Pete, Tony wants to join the party too! Two for one it seems. Toomes will be ecstatic.”

Peter wants to formulate a response but can’t quite get his tongue to cooperate. He thinks he manages a half grunt, but it saps all his energy and for a moment his vision leaves him again. He feels himself being dragged to the trunk of the car, heels cutting up small clouds of dust.

Tony is being led close behind. He doesn’t look Peter in the eyes.

“Wait-” Peter winces as they bind up the sluggishly bleeding wound in his thigh. It burns, and it steals the air from his chest. “No-”

They tie the bandages off but Peter barely feels it anymore. Tony is lined up beside him, still looking stubbornly to the side, and again Peter tries to protest. Tony can’t be here. He can’t.

He doesn’t see what hits him, but whatever it is, it hits hard. The pain leaves him in an instant, and he knows no more.

---

It’s like swimming through dark water.

For a moment, he’s on the surface. He sees a glimpse of light, feels heat and hears sound before he’s tugged unwillingly back into the depths, into the great nothingness. The next time his head breaks water, he feels pain, and the descent is faster and longer.

On one emergence, Peter can feel his fingers and his toes and feels that he exists. He’s moving, but laying on his side. He can’t explain how. Through the darkness and the heat, he sees Tony also on his side. He’s looking at Peter’s eyes with a certain intensity, trying to connect but failing. His mouth is moving, but the world has been muted. Peter wishes it wasn’t.

He follows the pain he feels down to his leg. It’s in him and around him. A part of him, but also somewhere else. It may take seconds or hours to uncover the meaning. Eventually, he comprehends that Tony’s bound hands are pressed hard on Peter’s wound, fingers that so often are stained with oil now shining with blood. Peter stares. He blinks. Somewhere in the journey, he loses the connection.

In the end, it makes him sink again.

This time, he stays in the darkness.

---

Tony can count on one hand how many times he’s been more scared in his whole life than the nightmare he’s been forced to live today.

Finding Peter had been a wave of relief that had brought him back to hope. Then Peter had been shot, and the foundation had crumbled around him once more. It was better to go with the kid than to lose him again. He could never lose him again.

The car ride had been the worst of his life. They had been shoved in the trunk together, Peter limp as a noodle after being hit in the head with the same pistol that had shot him. How long the journey was, Tony had no idea. Each second was spent applying pressure to Peter’s thigh as his life leaked slowly out of him.

Eventually, the bleeding stops. The car does too.

They blindfold him when they open the trunk, and Tony loses reality. He can feel grass, then wood, then hard cement. When they return his sight, he and Peter are alone in an undeveloped basement. Peter is still dead to the world, and Tony heaves him off the ground and into his arms. Running his fingers through the boy’s hair is the only thing that keeps him grounded.

Time passes and Peter wakes up for good.

It’s slow, and Tony watches as slow twitches become control, fluttering eyelids become open, and lax features become a woozy smile. It breaks his heart, but he doesn’t let it show.

“H-hey T’y.”

“Hey yourself, kiddo.” The relief must be evident on his face, because Peter’s smile stretches wider. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been drugged and shot and punched. R-repeatedly. Oh, and the car crash wasn’ the best either.”

Tony laughs softly, but it’s weak. “So you’re doing great then?”

Peter closes his eyes as if in the sheer audacity of it all. “Jus’ peachy.” As consciousness sticks, he straightens awkwardly with his hands still cuffed behind him but doesn’t leave Tony’s side. “Where are we?”

“Not sure. I had FRI send a distress signal before I handed over the suit, so there should be help soon.”

“If they can find us.”

“They will.”

“You should’ve put a tracking chip in your shoe or somethin’.”

“I’m going to put one in your forehead if you don’t start telling me when super villains put a goddamn bounty on your head.”

Peter stiffens but relaxes just as fast. “Touche. Sr’y.”

“I’m here to help, kiddo. You know that.”

“I know,” Peter looks down and sees Tony’s hands. They’re stained gruesomely with red all the way up to his wrists, and he pales significantly and looks away. There’s something like guilt in the young hero’s eyes, and Tony doesn’t know how to address it.

“How’re we gonna get out?” Peter blinks heavily, taking stock of the room around them. There’s a small window in the corner, but it’s barred. Other than that, there are no other exit points besides the door their captors dropped them through.

A familiar twinge of hopelessness comes alive in his chest like a match being struck. He holds Peter just a little tighter. “Think you can get out of your cuffs?”

Peter shifts against Tony, leaning forward to give his wrists more freedom. Tony sees it as his muscles strain and shake. The skin trapped in the metal is rubbed raw. Within a few minutes of the struggle, it cracks and bleeds.

“Okay Pete, slow down. Give yourself a minute.”

Doing exactly the opposite, Peter lets out an angry groan as he jerks harder against his restraints, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Pete-”

Peter screams, collapsing back against the wall, chest heaving with effort. His eyes pinch shut and his arms go limp. “I can’t do it.”

“It’s okay.”

“No! No. I should be able to.”

Tony sighs, touching Peter’s elbow with his fingers. The contact makes Peter look at him, and Tony seizes his opportunity. “Listen to me. You’ve been drugged and you're concussed as hell. Not to mention the gunshot wound and dehydration. You’re not exactly in tip top shape Parker. Give yourself a minute.”

For a minute, Tony thinks Peter is going to fight back, but his energy is slowly fading. Peter nods shortly, and together they move so Peter’s head is in Tony’s lap. “Jus’ a minute, ‘k?”

“Okay.”

“Then I’ll get us out’ here.”

“Deal.”

Within seconds, Peter is asleep.

---

It’s impossible to know how much time has passed. The ache in Tony’s back and the pins and needles in his legs tells him it's been at least a couple hours. There’s no telling how soon Toomes men will come. He hates himself for it, but it’s time to get out.

“Petey-pie. Time to wake up.”

Tony nudges the boy on his lap softly. He lolls gently under Tony’s hand, but doesn’t stir.

“Peter.” Tony tries again, harder, and Peter’s head slips off Tony’s thigh and onto his knee. The lack of response drives a sledgehammer into Tony’s chest, and he grabs Peter’s face between his bound hands. His skin is hot and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and Tony swears for not noticing it sooner. A million explanations run through his head, but a sinking feeling tells him that the wound in his thigh must be infected.

“Peter goddam Benjamin Parker. Wake the hell up right now or I swear to God I’ll have Happy paint your room purple.”

There’s a tiny flicker of recognition. It seems to take years for Peter’s eyes to show themselves. Finally, Peter speaks through cracked lips. His voice is nearly gone. “Wha? I like purple.”

Tony collapses in on himself, to numb to really feel relieved. They’re not out of the woods yet. “Oh, Peter. You scared me.”

Peter smiles, but it’s out of confusion. His eyes are bright with fever. “You look funny when you’re scared.”

Tony shakes his head, exasperated. “Well you look funny when you’re sick.”

“‘M not sick.”

“Bounty hunters don’t like sick spider kids.”

“Mmm. Bounty?”

Tony’s stomach drops. Not good. “Do you remember the bounty Pete? Toomes?”

It’s like Peter’s been zapped with electricity. As soon as the words leave Tony’s mouth Peter is sitting up and looking around worriedly. Tony supports him when he falls sideways.

“Toomes? Wha- we need to go!” Peter struggles further, and seems to realize all over again that his hands are tied. There’s an animalistic look in the kid’s eyes that unsettles Tony deeply, and he holds onto Peter just a little bit tighter.

“Take a breath Pete.”

“No- ‘s gonna fall on us.” Peter is fighting against the metal trapping his hands again, eyes going in and out of focus.

“What’s going to fall on us?”

“It!” Peter gasps, looking up at the ceiling. He struggles harder and the cuffs suddenly break from behind his back. It seems to surprise them both, because Peter topples forward onto his front at the sudden change of momentum. His arms are too weak to catch him and he ends up kissing the cement. Tony swears loudly and pulls Peter back up. His lip is bleeding.

“Christ. You did it!”

“Y-yeah.” Each wrist still sports a bracelet of metal, but the chain is definitely separated. Peter reaches shaking fingers around Tony’s restraints and in a second, he’s free too.

“Good job kiddie,” Tony massages his wrists, heart suddenly pounding against his ribs. They could do this! They could get out. In his excitement, he stands on numb legs and makes his way to the barred window. From his new perspective, Tony can see the bright light of the moon. He can see stars.

Even on his tiptoes, the bars are too high to reach. He curses, believing it can’t be true, and opts to stretch a little farther.

“I can do it.” Suddenly, Peter is beside him. He’s hanging onto the wall for support and under the soft cut light of the moon Tony can see just how much of the kid’s face is covered in blood. It makes bile rise in his throat, but he forces his face to remain unchanged. At Tony’s lack of response, Peter limps heavily towards the window. He’s favoring his uninjured leg greatly, so much so that his right foot barely touches the ground as he moves. With every step, Tony can hear Peter’s breath catch.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” Ignoring him, or maybe not comprehending, Peter places his hands against the cement. He reaches up and manages to stick his left foot to the wall too. His right hangs loosely and unused underneath him. When he reaches the bar, he curls both hands around the metal and pulls. Tony can hear the metal shift and groan, and tiny specks of dust fall from where the obstacle is bolted into the wall. It shifts, the cement cracks, and then Peter falls.

“Damn it!” The drop isn’t far, but it still stings when Tony feebly attempts to catch Peter’s limp form. They collapse to the floor together, and Tony prays no one hears the commotion they’re making. He shifts the body in his arms so he can reach Peter’s face, which has become once again vacant. He slaps the kid’s cheek lightly and Peter’s eyes roll open.

“Pete? Can you hear me?”

Peter shows no sign of hearing him, but he stares at his mentor’s mouth with deep concentration. Slowly, he nods. “Wha happened?”

“You passed out and fell.”

“I don’ fall.”

“You just did!”

Peter shakes his head in disbelief, grabbing at his forehead and wincing as Tony helps him sit up once again. He looks up at the still barred window like it’s miles away, and his expression falters. “Oh. Yeah I fell. Dizzy.”

“It’s okay.”

“I can do it.”

“No. You’re staying down here.”

“No.” Peter struggles weakly against Tony’s hold and sticks to the wall to heave himself up. “I have to.”

Tony’s breathless as he watches Peter make his way back up to the window. He pauses at the bar this time, resting his head against the cool metal to reoriente himself. It seems to help, and this time his grip on the metal is stronger.

Peter swears and sweats and almost slips. Tony’s arms are wide, ready to catch his kid if he falls again. He doesn’t though, and the barring pops off with a final burst of effort. Peter climbs gently back to the ground, dropping the cage against the wall and collapsing against Tony’s side as his legs fail to sustain him.

“You’re doing so good kiddo.” Tony presses a kiss against Peter’s curls. “Can’t give up now.”

“M’kay.” Peter straightens. His eyelids are drooping dangerously but remain stubbornly open. He looks back up to the window. “I’ll lift you up.”

The adrenaline takes the edge off his guilt as Peter kneels and offers his hands as a boost. As soon as Tony makes it to the ledge, he hears Peter slide down the wall on his butt. His breathing is loud and choppy.

The window is easy to open and Tony crawls through. They must be in a cabin of some sort. They’re surrounded by trees and silence. He shifts to lay on his stomach and sticks his head through the window. Peter’s head is tilted back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Peter.” At his name, the boy jerks and blinks up at Tony in confusion. “No checking out yet. Come on bud, grab my hand we’re almost there.”

It takes a great deal of visible effort on Peter’s part to stand. He reaches up, and as their fingers connect Tony hears the bang of the door open followed by a series of surprised shouts from their captors. Tony can hear them rush across the room to the window, but he manages to pull Peter up into the dirt before they can reach them.

With speed he didn’t know he was capable of, he slams the window closed and pulls Peter up into his arms in a bridal carry. Despite his best efforts, Peter loses his battle with reality and bounces lifelessly in his arms as Tony runs for the treeline.

He almost makes it. There’s a hot flash of pain in his calf and he falls, skidding across the grass and Peter rolling out of his arms. He breathes heavily as he struggles to collect himself. He doesn’t look at his attackers. He knows they’re coming, knows he’s expendable, and instead looks at Peter’s still face and memorizes every detail. He reaches for Peter’s hand and almost sobs when their skin connects.

An odd sense of peace fills his heart. If this is his last moment on this earth, at least it’s with Peter. It’s with his son.

Tony sees the light from the men’s scopes reach the dirt around him, waits for the bullets to tear into his skin and end him, but it never does. There’s shouts and gunfire and swears, and then everything is still.

“Tones?”

Crying freely now, Tony turns to see Rhodey standing like a goddamn angel above them. His friend’s face is one of shock as he takes in Tony and Peter. His eyes linger on Peter longer, and his expression becomes solemn. He reaches up to his com, “found them. Requiring medical assistance immediately.”

Tony doesn’t stick around for much longer. Rhodey kneels beside them in the dirt, flipping Peter onto his back and checking the pulse in his neck. Tony doesn’t know the outcome, but feels Peter’s hand is still warm in his hand. He’s alive. He’ll be okay.

He doesn’t let go as the moon disappears from the sky, throwing the world into darkness.

He’ll never let go.

---

Tony wakes up alone.

His senses are dull with static, but even before he breathes he thinks about Peter. Where is he?

Panic crawls into his throat as his memories come back. He thinks of Peter’s warm, limp hand. He can’t be dead. He can’t.

A monitor somewhere beside him spikes, and through blurred vision Tony sees the door to his room creak open. A small figure in soft blue hospital clothes limps into the room, and the monitor accelerates again.

“Kid?”

Peter looks terrible, but he’s standing and smiling and alive. His leg and wrists are wrapped tightly in bandages, and butterfly stitches decorate some of the deeper wounds on his face and arms. His skin is marred with dark bruising, but despite it all he looks one hundred times better than Tony had last seen him.

“Hey.” Tony can’t help it. He smiles.

“Hey yourself,” Peter smirks, limping heavily to Tony’s bedside. He drops like a dead weight by Tony’s feet, digging his fingers into the bed frame to keep himself steady until his nails go white.

“Using my own words against me. Why are you up? You probably shouldn’t be walking on that leg of yours-”

“Oh I’m definitely not supposed to be walking,” Peter says matter of factly. “If anyone asks, I floated in here.”

“How are you feeling?”

Peter relaxes. “I’m okay. Bruce gave me some good drugs.” He pauses. “How are you?”

“Honestly a little bummed Rhodey took you back with us-”

Peter rolls his eyes, but smiles. “You should know by now it’s not that easy to get rid of me.”

“Yeah, about a million kindappings in the space of a couple days definitely proves that-” Tony breaks off, gasping. “Wait! Toomes!”

“It’s okay, Tony.” Peter pats his leg lightly, and Tony stares at the strange role-reversal of it all. “Toomes got caught trying to escape. He never made it out. We’re okay. The bounty’s off.”

“Oh.” Tony sinks back into his pillows. “Good.”

“Yeah.” Peter looks relieved, but tired. He rubs at his eyes and yawns deeply, stretching the cuts on his face.

Tony shifts over and pats the empty space beside him. “Come here kiddo.”

As if he’s been waiting for the invitation this whole time, Peter crawls over happily and eases himself down beside Tony, wrapping his arms around Tony’s torso. It makes Tony freeze, but then the warmth in his chest overcomes it, and he comes back to himself.

Peter is falling asleep. “Thanks for coming with me Mr. Stark. You saved me.”

Tony feels tears prick at his eyes as he runs his hands through Peter’s hair. His next words fall on deaf ears. Peter has grown limp, breathing deeply with sleep. “No, kid. We saved each other.”