Chapter Text
“Mr Stark! Mr Stark!”
“What is it, kid?”
“There’s something stuck to you!”
Tony whirled around in mid-air, trying to find whatever Peter was talking about.
The two were on a very lax mission, just tracing a signal to its origin point (a weakened Hydra Base, according to Tony’s computer), and so far so good. Tony had asked Peter to come along, just for fun. Let the kid get a small taste of Avenger-ing before he grew up and made a real, final decision. Rhodey was following close behind just in case something happened, but what the kid didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
“It’s like, pulsing blue.”
“Where?” Tony asked, still twisting around to look at his armour.
“On your back. Wait, land somewhere, I’ll get it off,” Peter instructed, and Tony landed on a nearby roof of an office building and Peter soon followed, landing with grace beside him.
“It looks weird,” Peter said, standing up ripping it off of the armour. He showed it to Tony, who scanned it with the suit computer. It looked like Tony’s old miniaturized arc reactor, about the size of a hockey puck, glowing blue and everything; but it for sure wasn’t one. FRIDAY put the results of the scan as soon as it was done on Tony’s dashboard.
“Peter, pass it,” Tony said quickly with his heart in his throat, holding out his hand, but it was too late.
The bomb detonated in Peter’s hands, and they were both thrown away from each other. Tony tried to regain control of the suit but there was too much force, and he landed somewhere amongst a pile of rubble, his head pounding. He retracted the helmet of his suit quickly and took a good look around at the damage, gasping, desperate to find a little glimpse of a red and blue suit somewhere...
The building they had been on top of was completely leveled, foundation crumbled and concrete pillars snapped in half. Small fires were starting in places, smoke filling Tony’s lungs. There was ringing in his ears and it felt like he was floating, falling. He was vaguely aware of sirens, of shouting, of someone running up to him, but it wasn’t the kid. Tony didn’t even know if he was alive. His armour was significantly less durable than Tony’s to allow for flexibility, and the bomb had detonated in his hands, there was no way, it wasn’t possible, no one could’ve-
“Iron Man,” a gruff voice said.
The person who was running up to him held a syringe to Tony’s exposed neck, and the world went black.
--
“Mr Stark?”
Tony stirred.
“Mr Stark?”
He wasn’t wearing his armour, but his limbs still felt like lead. He brought his hand up to his eyes.
“C’mon, Mr Stark. It’s me. Peter Parker.”
God that voice was loud. Tony kind of wished it would stop talking. He was tired, wanted to sleep, but he was on a hard floor and his back was killing him. Had he passed out drunk again? Tony thought he had stopped drinking excessively. Although it wouldn’t have surprised him if he had started up again. Pepper would be so disappointed.
Then Tony remembered, the bomb, the mission, the man, the syringe, the bomb exploding in the kid’s face-
His eyes flew open with a start and he sat up too quickly, the world spinning and tilting dangerously. Spots danced in front of his eyes and blackness was creeping up around the edges of his vision again. Surprisingly strong hands kept him steady, and the voice was still talking, but it was a kid’s voice, nearly pre-pubescent. A kid. The kid?
“Peter?”
“Yeah, hi, Mr Stark!”
Tony blinked a few times until the blackness subsided, and surveyed Peter. He looked okay, there was obviously dried blood on his face and near his hairline, but he wasn’t passed out on the floor or dead so Tony counted that as a win. Peter was pale still, obviously shaken up and just in his underwear, but he was blissfully alive and Tony, Tony could work with that. That was manageable. Nobody was dead.
Yet, Tony thought with a small shudder.
Peter wasn’t wearing his suit. His feet were bare and he was dressed in some sort of hospital gown. Tony himself was in the clothes he was wearing under the suit, a dress shirt and pants. There was nothing in his pockets; he must’ve been searched and stripped. Not that there had been anything useful in his pockets, just his phone and a pen.
“How did you…” Tony pointed at Peter, still amazed to find him alive. “Your hands, you, how-”
“I don’t know,” Peter said truthfully, interrupting Tony’s broken sentences. “I kind of threw it the second before it detonated. I could, I don’t know. Sense something was wrong or something.”
Tony grabbed onto Peter’s arm, solid arm, just to make sure he was really there. Peter seemed surprised a bit, but didn’t flinch away or whatever, he just let Tony take his time for a bit. He lifted his head after a few seconds, looking Peter in the eye. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mr Stark. Really,” he reassured him. He looked spooked but Tony didn’t release the grip on his arm.
“Okay. Okay,” Tony said, seemingly trying to convince himself.
“And you? You’re shaking.”
And of course. Of course this would happen, when he was supposed to be strong. Of course the universe decided that no, Tony Stark, you will not have a good day today. Of all times it had to be now. Tony closed his eyes and tried to breathe before it became an issue, but it just became more difficult the more he concentrated.
“Remember when I told you I have an anxiety issue?” Tony asked, his heart already pounding in his head.
He hoped the kid would get it. Tony didn’t want to explain it. Peter had walked in on him once when he was on the verge of freaking out and all of the energy radiating off of him just pushed Tony to the edge, and he had to explain why he suddenly couldn’t breathe, and that was a nightmare in itself. A forty-five year-old man spilling his guts to a teenager. Thankfully, Peter just nodded.
“We’re going to be okay, Mr Stark.”
“Don’t say that just yet.” Tony’s chest was closing in on itself, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get a full breath in. He squeezed Peter’s arm harder and looked at his hands.
“Why not? You’ve escaped before. We’re going to be fine,” Peter said, and the confidence made Tony’s heart ache.
They were stuck in a dark room, the only light source was the small, prison-esque window on a door. Everything was metal, the room was only about ten feet by twelve, and Tony wanted out. He was being suffocated in the small area, he needed fresh air, needed to be outside, and the air was too hot but his body was shivering with cold flashes and his hands were cold and going numb and-
“Your aunt. Oh God. Oh my God,” Tony gasped out, realizing. He was in deep shit now.
If the kid hadn’t come with him. If Tony hadn’t asked him. If it were just Tony, this would’ve been fine, he could’ve lived with that, but here he wasgetting Peter stuck in his messes and getting him in trouble and in danger and he could’ve died, there still was the potential death coming, they have no idea what their capturers want-
“Pete, I’m so sorry.”
“Mr Stark, please, I’m fine. Just, just breathe.” Peter was awkwardly patting Tony’s head.
“Oh my God.”
“It’s okay! You’re here. You make things work, you’ve done it before-”
“I don’t.” Tony shook his head. He relaxed his grip on Peter’s arm when he realized he was probably cutting off circulation, but now there was nothing to hold onto.
“Yes you do! Loads of times. I’ve seen the news. We’re gonna get out of here, and-”
“Stop.” Tony didn’t want to hear the hope that Peter had in him.
“-and you’re going to invent something amazing to get us out, and-”
“Pete, please.” Tony was going to explode. His skull felt too tight for his brain.
“We’ll figure it out! We’re going to be fine, and-”
“Shut up for a minute! God! Do you ever stop talking?!” Tony wrenched himself away from Peter, standing up as fast as he could without passing out.
He walked over to the far wall, leaving Peter on the ground behind him, silent. Tony pressed his forehead against the cool metal, willing himself to calm down. He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times, trying to get them to warm up, and focused on breathing. He just had to get his mind together, and then he’d be fine, it would all work out. Rhodey was in the sky at the time. He must’ve seen the explosion. He’d know. He’d be looking.
In onetwothree out onetwothree
The rubber band that seemed to have been around his chest relaxed a bit, and he could breathe without the wheezing again. Peter and Tony, they were both smart, they could figure it out. Outsmart whoever had captured them, with their combined brain power, build something, make a plan, it would all be okay. Rhodey knew.
And at the very least, Tony wasn’t doing it alone this time.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” Tony apologized once his breathing was back under control.
“Sorry,” said a timid voice behind him. Tony turned around and glared at the kid.
“God. Kid, it’s my fault. Don’t apologize,” he said, wringing his hands and leaning back against the wall. “Sorry for freaking out on you as well. That wasn’t very nice of me.”
“That’s not your fault either,” Peter argued, standing up.
“Don’t argue with me-”
“We were going to enter earlier, but it seemed wrong at the time,” a voice said suddenly from the doorway. “I didn’t know Iron Man got panic attacks.”
Tony’s cheeks flushed pink and he grit his teeth. He turned to look at the imposter.
“Anyway, Stark, didn’t know you had a son. Spider-Man, no less. Didn’t take you as the fatherly-type, you know, with your dad and history of alcohol abuse and all that.” The man grinned, showing off his yellow teeth and chapped lips.
He had long, brown hair, tied back into some sort of man bun. He was skinnier than Tony would have expected, but that didn’t mean anything in terms of power. If he had the resources to capture both Iron Man and Spider-Man, then they should be cautious around him. Sometimes brain power and manipulation can outweigh brute force.
“Just tell me what you want and let’s get it over with,” Tony sighed, crossing his arms, channeling snark. “No need to monologue.”
“Stark. You are the only person to ever succeed in making a miniaturized arc reactor,” the man said.
“Way to state the obvious. It only appeared on the headlines of every newspaper in North America,” Tony deadpanned. Peter hid a grin, and it made Tony’s heart lighter. He winked at the kid.
Man bun, as Tony dubbed him in his head, skipped over Tony’s remark. “We want one.”
“What are you going to do if I don’t do what you want?” Tony asked, sighing. “All you villains. So damn predictable! You can’t incapacitate me so much that I die or am unable to build it. Puts you in a bit of a tight spot, doesn’t it?”
Tony knew what they were going to say. Nobody captures two people without using one of them against the other. He hoped in his heart he was wrong, but he knew he was always right.
“Yeah, and what about we hurt your son, here?” Man bun pointed at Peter.
Tony’s world spun to a stop, even though it was just as he predicted. “You’re not even above hurting minors. Huh.”
“We tried to blow you up and we captured you, where do you think our morals stand,” Man bun snorted.
“Who’s ‘we’, exactly?” Tony challenged, genuinely curious.
“A group of emerging scientists. Weapon engineers. I can’t believe you haven’t used the arc reactor energy for a weapon, imagine the money you could make!” Man bun exclaimed.
“I’ve got enough money for two billion lifetimes. You want money? I can give you money,” Tony offered, trying to remain as calm as possible.
“Can’t buy brains with money.”
“I’m sure it’s on the black market somewhere,” Tony sniffed.
“We’re not open to negotiating.”
“Well, I’m not building an arc reactor for you, and I’m certainly not gonna let you hurt my kid-”
“Your kid?” Peter interrupted. Tony cursed internally at the slip up.
“-so I think you’re out of options,” he continued, ignoring Peter.
“It’s not a matter of you letting us hurt your kid,” Man bun smirked at the mistake as well. “If you don’t build an arc reactor, we hurt him. You too, maybe. You don’t get to tell us what to do.”
“Mr Stark, I’d rather be hurt than have humanity destroyed,” Peter said before anyone else could get a word in.
“You’re a kid. I’m not letting you get hurt. You’re my responsibility and I’ve already put you in enough danger already, let alone be subjected to whatever knives and methods this group of amateur scientists have in store for you,” Tony snapped, trying to hide how shaky he was behind carefully channelled frustration. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been tortured before, Pete, but it’s not fun. It is not a show of how strong you are, proof of being a ‘real hero’.” He made quotation marks with his fingers.
“I’m not proving anything-”
“Save the family feud for later!” Man bun interrupted. “Stark. You gonna build one for us?”
“Absolutely not,” Tony spat immediately, turning back to glare at him.
“Drug him.”
Hands belonging to men in white coats suddenly reached out and grabbed onto his limbs, holding Tony in place against the wall, and although Peter managed to put up more of a fight, he found himself pinned to the ground. Tony grit his teeth as a man with a surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face stabbed another syringe into the skin on his neck, and his world went woozy. Through a heavy gaze, Tony saw Peter go limp on the ground, and the next thing he knew, Tony too was slumped against the wall, barely conscious.
“Take him.”
Peter’s body got dragged away, and Tony closed his eyes.