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The air was crisp and clear as Iron Man's boot jets cut power, landing on the ground with a clunk. Holding his hands out on both sides of his body, he shot a repulsor ray to each of the leather-clad guards standing sentry outside the door. Their machine guns clatter on the pavement stones. Iron Man looks up and sees Spider-Man swinging from a web line off the roof, landing behind him with a grunt. He didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know that the rumbling motor behind him was the Star Spangled Man With a Plan himself joining the team. The engine cut off and, after he flicked the kickstand down on his Harley-Davidson, Captain America took his place beside Iron Man.
Tony Stark retracted his helmet to look his teammates in the eyes (well cloth goggles for Peter).
"Ready, guys?" Tony asked.
Spider-Man gave a curt nod. "Ready, Mr. Stark." His voice was eager as he shifted his weight on the balls of his heels.
Steve nodded as well. "We're with you Tony,” he said, his blue eyes intense.
Tony took a steadying breath and held it for a moment. He shut his helmet back over his face. "Then, it's go time."
“Pete, go in from the west side. Cap, you take the east.” He turned his head from Spider-Man to the Captain. His instructions were interrupted by another two armed guards popping their heads over the lip of the rooftop. Spider-Man sensed it before the tip of their guns could be seen and webbed them up, the momentum of Spidey’s pull launching them into the street. Their yells stopped as soon as they hit the ground.
“They were rude.” Tony wisecracked. “Anyway, I’ll go through these doors, and we’ll work our way to the middle. That’s where they should be keeping the device.”
Right in the center of the room, surrounded by dozens of criminals with an agenda sat the most jeopardizing, yet harmless, bomb New York had ever seen. Wired to the nearby electrical tower by innumerous cords, the bomb, when triggered, will emit an electromagnetic pulse so powerful, the entire power grid of New York will be wiped out. Even things that don’t need an electrical socket to be powered (like Tony’s Iron Man suit) won’t be safe from it. The second that bomb goes off, the criminals will be unleashed into the streets. Those poor unfortunate people, disoriented and wild from the sudden complete loss of electronic life won’t be able to hinder the rampage of delinquents. The New York prisons won’t stop the onslaught of ne'er do wells from breaking loose. All these thieves, murderers, frauds, harassers will be free. And every thirty minutes, the bomb will top it off with another pulse. They’ll take down the entire state while everyone’s naked and blind.
“We’re on it,” Cap affirmed. He turned to Spider-Man. “Watch yourself, Queens. They’ll be more guards on the sides to protect the bomb. We don’t want them sneaking up on you, now do we.”
“No, we do not, Mr. America - Captain - sir.” Spider-Man stumbled over what to call his new teammate.
Captain America pulled his shield off his back and clipped it to his arm. Spider-Man took Cap's takeoff into a run as a signal to start making his way to the side door. He jogged away from Iron Man to the left, concentrating on his breathing. His chest became tight before he got halfway to the corner. He pushed himself a bit further, but when he strung two webs from his wrists to the roof corner, and swung himself around the edge of the building, it was still too soon, requiring him to kick off the wall in order to propel himself forward.
He disconnected himself from his webs and pushed onward, feeling how much he was forcing his chest to expand with breath. He felt danger and leapt into the air as three men charged at him, barely missing their bullets. As he flew in the air, it was like everything happened in slow-motion. He saw the arc of their guns as they shot at him. He focused, targeting the bulky part tucked between their arms.
He had seconds before his feet touched the ground. He needed to act fast and not let his team down. Spider-Man hit his targets and pulled away two of the guns, but there wasn’t enough time to get the third. He landed and dodged as fast as he could while advancing on the third gun-slinger. When he got close enough, he grabbed the barrel and yanked it out of the shooter’s hands, throwing a punch, which hit the other guy on the side of his face.
The guy was knocked to the ground by fifteen year old Spider-Man’s punch. Peter webbed the man’s arms and legs so he would stay down, and ducked, narrowly missing the swing of the second henchman. With a few kicks and punches from Peter, the other two men joined their friend on the ground.
“Cap told me you guys would try to do that,” he said, trying to ignore the tight and ripping pain he felt from the bottom of his chest. He told himself it was just from the bottom, but really he was feeling an ache from his entire torso. He watched the men struggle against their restraints for a few moments, trying to breathe easier.
He heard a loud bang coming from inside and kicked open the door. Captain America and Iron Man were already close to the center of the room, quickly working their way through a dozen each of these guards, leaving behind a trail of them groaning in pain or silently unconscious.
“Kid!” Iron Man called to him. “Don’t touch the wires! It’ll cause the currents to shift out of balance and the whole thing will explode!” He was talking about the hundred or so cables coming from somewhere in the middle that draped in every direction from the ceiling. Undoubtedly connecting the bomb to the cell tower just next door.
Got it, Peter thought. I can’t use the rafters to help me fight.
Several soldiers (if you could even call them that) came from the back of the warehouse. Most of them started for Cap or Iron Man, pulling their triggers as soon as the Avengers came into view; Captain America easily blocked the bullets with his vibranium shield and they ricocheted off Tony’s bulletproof suit. They paid little attention to Spider-Man untill he threw boxes of heavy mechanical parts at the criminals’ heads. He threw up a piece of metal to block the gunshots and crouched behind a wall of more cardboard boxes.
He could see the bomb from here. It stood on three legs like a tripod, glowing light blue with power, and encircled by disks of metal and copper strands. There was a glass case around the device. Right behind the men with the guns.
Bounding on top of the box stack, Spider-Man stuck a sticky strand on the case. Before they could even think about shooting Peter, he tripped them all with his web, twirling his hand to make it like a jump rope.
He jumped off the boxes and used gravity to add to the force behind his punch, knocking one guy out cold.
As he fought hand to hand, the pain in his chest got more and more intense. It was wearing him down so fast, he didn't know how much longer he could win these fights. Each breath he tried to get under control was a struggle, and ended with a wheeze.
The last man, Peter thought while gathering his strength to give one last knockout punch. His muscles were so weak from lack of oxygen; it wasn't enough. The guard caught Peter's fist and brought back his own hand to strike Spider-Man.
Captain America came to the rescue, throwing his shield at the guy's chest. The force of it knocked the henchman off his feet and into the box tower, which collapsed on top of him. The red, white, and blue disk hit the angle off the far wall and glided into Cap's reaching hand. He reattached it to the magnets on his forearm. Meeting Peter's eyes, he gave a nod that said, "I've got your back."
Iron Man withdrew his helmet inside his suit and studied the bomb from the top of the glass.
He gave a sigh that weighed a thousand pounds. "It's wired to the case." He tapped his finger hard to point to where, at the bottom, a band of light blue could be seen under the case. Cap and Peter both winced, praying their thanks for the case not being touch sensitive. "If the case is breached or moved - it'll go off."
"We took care of the criminals in here." Cap said. "If we let the bomb go off, we can disable it before it reactivates."
"Yes, but what about the criminals from the prisons?" Tony rebutted. "We can't take down all of them, even with the rest of the Avengers."
Peter, whose chest still wasn't feeling right, couldn't agree more. He didn't even have enough energy to punch a regular, human man. Some hero he was.
The spider in him made him turn around. One of the men he had just defeated was on his back, pointing his weapon straight up at the ceiling.
The wires!
"Get out of here!" Peter screamed at Tony and Steve.
Acting fast, he used his web shooter to spit out the thickest rope of web solution it could produce and wrapped it around both of their legs. He yelled in pain, soaked up every ounce of super strength he had in his body, and swung. His muscles burned like they were being cut open with scissors. Both of his fellow Avengers shouted in shock as Peter whipped them off their feet and threw them as far as he could out Tony's door.
He disengaged his webs after they thudded on the ground, hoping he had enough time to get out as well. By the time he got his shaky, spent arms up to swing himself away from the bomb, the sound of a gunshot crackled the air.
His debilitated body brought him to his knees. The roaring, water like waves of fire blasted him forward. Over the deafening sounds of the explosion behind him -- around him -- he could hear Steve and Tony yelling his name before the fire pushed his face into the dirt. Then he heard, saw, felt, nothing but black.
~~~~
He saw flashes.
Fiery bits of wood falling into the street like shooting stars.
Captain America standing over him, shielding him as the detonation raged on.
Tony Stark holding his face with bare hands. "Kid! Peter, can... -- ear me?" He said.
Peter tried to respond, "I can hear you, Mr. Stark. Please help me." But all that came from his lips was a whimper. He couldn't draw enough breath to speak. He tried, but his loss of voice made him panic. His heart raced as his wounds started to heal themselves. Tony’s hands were warm; the Spider-Man mask was off of his face. But he still felt like he was breathing through wool. His wheezing turned into coughing.
"Tony, look at him. He can't breathe!" Cap said, straining to keep the flying warehouse rubble off all three of them.
"FRIDAY, full body scan" Tony commanded.
Peter squinted his eyes shut as the light reading him shone in his eyes, but he held as still as he could.
"Increased heart rate, low oxygen levels, bruising to the torso, arms, and legs, with first degree burns on his back." FRIDAY reported. "I’m calling a Quinjet now." Her voice sounded not like an AI, but a scared person who had been watching over Peter ever since he came to the Compound.
"Call it off." Cap said. Tony stared at him, taken aback.
"Go. You're faster than the 'Jet. Take him and go. I'll catch up." Cap's knees slightly buckled as an entire block of a rafter threw itself on his shield. He kicked it away, the embers falling like rain.
Tony didn't need to be ordered twice. Or argue against the fact that he was just given an order. He reinstated his gloves and helmet, and gently lifted Peter into his arms.
Peter winced in pain, his lungs slipping.
"It'll be okay, Peter." Tony said before soaring off into the sky. "I'll make it okay." He readjusted his arms to be careful of the burn and tucked Pete's head to his chest.
Flying down from upstate, Peter Parker lost consciousness in Iron Man's arms. Tony asked for FRIDAY to keep checking Pete's vitals again and again to make sure he wasn't losing him.
"Just leave it on the screen." He said after asking her for the fourth scan.
He had one eye on Peter's heart rate while he hurriedly called Helen Cho to get the med bay prepared.
….
In the medical bay, Tony stood by Spider-Man, who seemed to be breathing easier. Easier, but still not well. He rubbed the teen’s shoulder, which had been one of the only of his body not damaged during the battle.
“That’s it, kid. Just take deep breaths.” Tony instructed. Not that this was a similar situation, but if Tony had known what to do, he wouldn’t have been so scared of his anxiety attacks. He didn’t want Peter to be scared.
Peter's eyes were focused on the ceiling. He blinked rapidly to force back the tears that threatened to spill. His heart thudded in his ears as he tried to focus on Tony's voice. But as much as he appreciated Tony being there for him and helping him try to calm down, Peter was still very much afraid. Just not for a reason Mr. Stark could imagine in his wildest dreams.
"Peter," Helen Cho said as she finished getting her equipment ready. "Can you take off your suit for me?"
Peter's heartbeat skyrocketed and he grabbed the hand Tony still had on his shoulder. "No," he whispered. "J-just...you."
Tony jumped at Peter's sudden movement, and watched as Peter's labored breathing forcibly slow. There was something on the younger man's face, something earnest, something desperate, that made Tony want to give him the world.
And figure out how fast he could learn about how to treat a burn.
Helen had stopped shuffling around and looked to Tony, at a loss for what to do. Tony nodded at her. She understood and left the room, tapping the side of the windows to tint them, providing privacy.
Peter fell back on the bed with a groan. Pressing the black spider logo on his suit, the suit sighed with him, hanging loose on his body like pajamas.
"Well, you heard the lady," Tony said, getting up and crossing the room to where Helen had been. “That burn must be - well, burning you.” He grabbed a towel and turned the sink tap, soaking the cloth with cold water. This seemed about right.
He switched the sink off again and looked back at Peter. The boy was sitting up on the edge of the bed, meticulously studying his hands. Tony saw his nervousness; how interesting could blue and red striped gloves be?
“Alright,” Tony said. “Out with it. What’s going on?”
Peter gave a small sniffle and when he popped his head up to look at Tony, no matter how fast he looked back down, he couldn't hide the two streams of tears under his eyes. Tony made his way back to the bed and placed his empty hand back on Peter's shoulder. The boy quickly wiped his face dry in shame.
Tony lowered his voice, trying to be as delicate as possible. "What's wrong?"
Peter took a deep breath. Not getting enough oxygen during most of the fight, something as simple as a complete inhale felt wonderful. The pain in his chest from earlier came back, forcing him to face the reality of what he needs to do.
"Mr. St-" he started. His throat sounded thick from stubborn tears. He cleared it and tried again. “Mr. Stark, there’s something me and May didn’t tell you. Er- that, uh, I didn’t tell you.”
Tony sat down, bringing over a spindly chair on wheels. Peter’s words were getting jumbled up on their way to his mouth. He cursed his own skittishness from making this so much harder.
“What? What didn’t you tell me?” Tony said.
Another deep breath for Spider-Man.
“I recently had surgery done. On-on my chest.” He clenched his hand into a fist to stop it from shaking.
“When?” The sitting man nearly stood at how angry and disappointed he was in the young hero. Surgery? He should know better than to go out on a mission while he’s recovering. He grit his teeth to keep from chewing Peter’s head off.
As much as it was reckless, and frankly stupid, for Peter to throw Spider-Man into action, he remembers too many times when he, himself, made the same impulsive decision. The situation had been dire and there was bravery somewhere in the foolishness.
“Two days ago.” Peter answered, softly.
Two days?!
“Two days,” Tony said, incredulously. He knew Peter’s superpowers included accelerated healing, but to wait that short a time, Enhanced or not.
“Two days,” he repeated. “Wow. Now what sort of procedure did you have done? Just so I know how dangerous it would be if you tore open your stitches, which” he made a circular gesture with his hand towards the younger man’s torso. “I’m assuming you already did.”
“I-it was, um.” Peter stammered. Tony watched as the boy struggled to use his words, unaware the inside of the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’s head, a civil war raged on. On one side was the part of Peter that wanted to lie, to protect himself from the heartache of losing his mentor. But the side that won was Peter’s trust. Trust in himself, and trust in Iron Man.
Peter stuck his head up straight and fixed his on Tony’s face, resolutely. He rolled his shoulders and let the swooping neck of his suit bunch at his elbows, finally exposing the scars he tried to keep covered up.
Two half circles in the middle of his chest, right on top of his ribs.
He tightened his hands again, fighting the instinct to cover himself up. There’s nothing there to cover up anymore, He reminded himself. You’re free.
He also held back a wince as the fresh air in the lab hit exposed flesh. Tony was right; the stitches had reopened at some point. He didn’t feel any blood dripping down his middle so it couldn’t have been too bad, but he did feel his healing doing its non-magic magic, almost done mending the burn on his back.
He tried to gauge Mr. Stark’s reaction, scanning his face for he didn’t know what. Anger?; disgust?; hatred? Nothing on the man’s face gave away what he was thinking. His eyes traveled all over the room, catching glances at Peter every couple of flicks. His mouth opened a few times like he wanted to say something, but decided not to. Peter couldn’t take the anxiety of possible rejection anymore. He started to run his mouth.
“I was going to tell you at some point,” he said. “But I spoke to Aunt May, and thought it would be best if I didn’t for now. I didn’t know how you would take it, or how the other guys were gonna take it. I didn’t want to lose you guys. You already mean so much to me. I love being an Avenger so much, Mr. Stark.” He paused to take a breath.
“Just please don’t hate me. I don’t think I could handle that.”
Tony scoffed. Peter couldn’t deny being a little hurt.
“Why would I ever hate you?” Tony asked. His eyes had gotten a red ring around them and he was looking at Peter with kindness. No hatred could be seen.
He didn’t look angry anymore. He looked surprised, but not mad. Not what Peter was expecting.
“Why, because you’re transgender?” Tony took Peter’s averted eye contact as a yes. “I would never judge you for being who you are. Never. You are who you are and there's nothing bad about that. You're my kid, Pete, how could I not accept you?"
Peter gasped. Tony didn't take it back, letting his words hang in the air.
"Your kid?" Peter said, trying not to get choked up again. "Even if I'm trans?"
"Well, that's what I said, isn't it." Tony said. "It doesn't matter who you were born as. In my mind you'll always be the same awkward boy I met in Queens."
Despite using only male pronouns and presenting as male for well over a year now, hearing his mentor, his father figure, know he wasn't born that way, still accept him and call him how he feels; it was pure euphoria.
Tony stood and pulled the cool towel around young Peter's shoulders like a cape. Like a hug.
They were there now.
It was easier for Peter to breathe. Maybe it was because the secret that put so much weight on his shoulders was finally lifted. Or it may be the top surgery scars being healed. Either way, he was still Spider-Man, Tony Stark's kid. Who's dad loved him for who he was.