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“This will teach you to stick your nose in other people’s business.” The boss guy, Marco or Bob or Josh or whatever his name was, said.
Peter rolled his eyes even though they couldn’t see it through his mask. He tugged again at the cuffs holding his wrists together behind his back, but no dice. They must be made out of vibranium or something, which meant this guy had spent a pretty penny to catch him. Peter almost felt flattered. After all, he’d only spent the last couple weeks busting all the guy’s dealers and cleaning up the drug ring that he’d tried to set up in Queens.
“Put him in.” The boss guy commanded.
The two lackeys holding onto each of his arms pushed him forward until they reached the open coffin dangling by pulleys over a dug out grave. Well this looked fun. The men at his sides lifted him up and slammed him into it with a coordination he didn’t think they'd possess.
“Hey!” He protested but the lid snapped shut before he even had a chance to attempt escape. He pushed against the cover with his feet but it didn’t budge. Was this thing lined with vibranium too? That could be problematic. A second later he felt himself falling before his back slammed into the coffin again, presumably having landed at the bottom of the six foot hole dug out under it. Ouch. That had kind of hurt his wrists, which were still trapped behind him by the stupid handcuffs.
“Hey Karen?” He didn’t know why he whispered. There was no way the goons could hear him. But somehow being stuck in a casket made him feel like he owed it some kind of reverence.
“Yes Peter?”
“Uh night vision please.”
His mask switched to the view filter as requested, but it didn’t help. No secret hidden trap doors made themselves known. Not that he’d expected them to. No, now he could just see where the bad guys thought he’d spend his final moments of life. The thudding of dirt hitting the coffin lid made his heart rate increase. He was literally getting buried alive right now. Yep. This situation was definitely not ideal.
“You appear to be in an undesirable position.” Karen said, completely understating it. “Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?”
“Um…” He kicked his feet up against the lid as hard as he could. Over and over. After a handful of times, not so much as a splinter appeared. He knew he should probably be panicking right about now, but he wasn’t because he still had his suit. The bad guys hadn’t even considered that he’d be able to call for help. So, all in all, this was just a minor inconvenience.
“Yeah.” He agreed with a sigh. “Call him.”
“Hey Pete what’s up?” Tony answered on the second ring and the tension that had been building up in his chest unfurled. “Madame Secretary was just asking if you were still planning on coming up for the weekend. You are, right?”
“Ok, so don’t freak out.” He started, not quite sure how to explain his dilemma without Tony going postal.
“You saying that is making me freak out.” Tony replied, voice tense. “What’s going on?”
“Ok so I might be in a bit of a situation.” The rain of dirt thudding above him had slowed. He wondered if they were using some kind of equipment because shoveling by hand definitely would’ve taken a lot longer.
“Uh huh. What kind of situation? Start using your words kid.”
“Ok, first, I just want to let you know that I’m ok. I’m perfectly fine. So when I tell you, don’t go flying off the handle.”
“You’re really not making me feel any better.” Tony interrupted.
“I’m, um, kind of stuck.”
“That’s not an explanation. Start explaining.” Tony said, and Peter could tell he was in the suit now because of the almost imperceptible tinniness of his voice.
“I’m sort of…” He winced before just ripping off the bandaid. “Buried.”
The heavy silence almost weighted him down more than the pounds of dirt on top of him.
“I’m sorry. I think I must’ve misheard you. You’re what now?” Peter could tell he was freaking out.
“I’m buried. As in underground? Pushing daisies? Six feet under? I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.” Peter explained, trying to keep a lightness to his tone.
“The attitude isn’t cute.” Tony snapped and a few seconds later Peter heard him release a long calming breath.
“Seriously Tony I’m ok. Just…I can’t get out of this by myself.”
“You promise? You’re not in any danger of asphyxiating?”
“Um, not imminently.” He answered. For a chemistry class project last year, he and Ned had figured out the amount of time a human could actually survive buried in a coffin, which had seemed a little morbid at the time, but now was turning out to be quite useful. He knew he had at least a few hours before things would start to get dire, so he didn’t have to panic, because he had every confidence that Tony would have him out by then.
“You’re really not helping out my stress levels here kid.” Tony complained.
“Sorry.”
“Just hang in there. I’m tracking your suit. I’m twenty minutes away.” Tony said, then asked in a panic, “You’re in your suit right?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok good.” He heard Tony take another deep breath. “So how did you manage to get yourself in this situation?”
“I’ve been working on busting up a drug ring in Queens the past couple weeks and apparently I really really pissed off the head honcho dude.” He explained, trying to roll into a more comfortable position, so not all his weight was on his wrists. His hands were starting to tingle.
Tony snorted. “So this guy decided to…bury you?”
“Yeah he even put me in a coffin. I think maybe he was trying to be poetic? But I don’t know. Seems like a waste of money. Like, aren’t coffins really expensive?”
Silence met his question.
“Um Tony? Are you still there? You didn’t fly into a power line or something, did you?” He tried not to sound scared, but if something happened to Tony, he was dead. Literally.
“I’m here.” Tony said, but he didn’t sound quite right.
“Are you ok?” He asked. Tony always used to joke about having a weak heart but after he’d barely survived the snap it’d actually become true.
“Am I ok? You’re the one literally stuck in a coffin underground and you’re asking me if I’m ok?” Tony’s voice got more high pitched.
“Um yeah.”
“I’ll be ok when I get you out. How does that sound?”
“Ok.” He mumbled, feeling appropriately chastised.
“Just do me a favor.” Tony requested. “Keep talking to me.”
Peter smiled. That he could do.
“Just no more talk about being buried, underground, or coffins. All right?” Tony added.
“Sure. No problem. So last week at practice, guess what Flash did…”
“You’re making that up. Morgan did not say that.” Peter laughed.
“Yes she did! I swear! If you don’t believe me, ask her.” Tony said.
“Don’t think I won’t.”
“Oh, I know you will.”
Peter made a mental note to do just that.
“I’m here kid.” Tony said, much more solemn than a second earlier.
“Oh thank god.” He said with a desperate exhale. “Because I have to tell you I’ve been trying really hard not to think about it, but it’s starting to get hard not to think about it.”
“I know.”
“Are any of the goons here?” He asked, curious, because if there were, that would be the last mistake any of them would ever make. Tony wasn’t someone you wanted to cross.
“Goons? Who uses that word?”
“I do. I like it.”
“You sound like some 1960’s mobster, but to answer your question, no, none of them are here. Looks like they hightailed it out of here after burying you.” Peter could tell he was disappointed. No doubt Tony wanted to exact his revenge.
“So…what’s the sitch? How long until you can get me out of here?” He tapped his foot anxiously against the end of the coffin.
“The sitch? Seriously kid, what kind of movies have you been watching lately?” Tony joked, which must be good news, because if he was capable of joking around then his situation must not be too dire.
“Good ones.”
“I’m afraid I don't believe you. I’m going to need a chronological list.”
Peter rolled his eyes but the next second he got distracted by a humming scraping noise. “Hey! I hear something. What is that?”
“I’m digging you out. Hopefully it won’t take too long. Just sit tight.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” He joked.
“What’d I say about being cute?”
“Um, don’t do it?”
“Oh, so you do hear me when I talk. You just don’t listen.” Tony said, but there was no bite to it. Peter could tell he was still stressed, so instead of continuing the banter, he stayed quiet and waited patiently to be freed.
He had no idea how much time had passed but eventually he had the sensation of being lifted and placed back on solid ground. A couple seconds passed and he heard Tony grunt and swear.
“Um, I think they might’ve used vibranium on the coffin. I couldn’t kick through it.” He warned, figuring Tony had tried to open the lid and failed.
“Forgot to mention that little detail, huh?”
“Oops.” Peter smiled. “You didn’t throw your back out did you old man?”
“Here I am saving you and all I’m getting is sass and more sass.” Tony mock complained.
“You can still get me out right?” The nerves hit him again. Wasn’t vibranium impossible to damage? Isn’t that why it'd been used to make Cap’s shield. What if he was still stuck in here and he was going to suffocate and—
“Relax Pete. I’ll get you out.” Tony reassured him. “Contrary to popular belief, vibranium’s not indestructible. You just need a high enough and concentrated enough heat source. And some time.”
“Like a laser?”
“Exactly like a laser.” Tony said and Peter didn’t think he was imaging the pride in his voice.
“Do you have one on the suit?”
“Of course.”
Thank god.
“Hang in there. This might take a little time.”
Peter tried to stay patient, but the closer he got to his release, the more difficult it was to wait. He just wanted out. At least he could follow Tony’s progress. The seal around the coffin lid glowed visibly as Tony lasered away at it. Tony hadn’t been kidding about the time comment. It had to have been close to forty five minutes before the laser finally made it all the way around.
Before the glow from the last bit of lasering had faded, Tony ripped the cover off. Peter squinted from the light, but he could make out Ironman standing over him. The helmet nanobots retracted and Peter gave Tony’s pale face a wide smile. he didn’t get a chance to say anything before Tony grabbed his upper arms and yanked him up and out of the coffin, pulling the mask off his face the second he’d set him on his feet.
Peter smiled. “Oh thank you. That’s so much better. Except…ooo ow!”
“What? What’s wrong?” Tony asked, looking over him frantically for some kind of hidden injury.
“Nothing. Just I was lying on my hands and they fell asleep and now, oh, ow, the feeling’s coming back and they’re all tingly. Ow ow ow.”
Tony let out an audible sigh of relief. “So you’re good?”
“Besides still being handcuffed?” Peter complained at the cuffs still around his wrists. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Tony rolled his eyes but gripped his shoulders and spun him around. “Hold on. I’ll get you free.”
A minute later, his wrists sprang free and he winced, the movement irritating the tingling. Regaining sensation was slightly overrated. He glanced down at them, noticing Tony had left the thick cuffs on but had sliced through the chain that connected them.
“There.” Tony declared and twirled him back around. “You good?”
He nodded.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“In that case…” Tony pulled him into a relieved hug.
Peter hugged him back, squeezing tightly, not needing to worry about controlling his strength since Tony was still in his suit, although hugging the suit wasn’t quite as comforting as hugging the real thing. He kind of wanted to ask Tony to get out of it, but he didn’t want to act like a scared little kid.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled once the normal appropriate amount of time to hug had come and gone. Clearly this had bothered Tony more than he’d let on.
Tony kissed the side of his head and finally released him, but Peter could still see the remnants of tension on his face.
“You scared me kid.” Tony admitted.
“I know. I’m sorry.” He hung his head.
“Let’s just agree this was a one and done.”
“Agreed.” Peter nodded. “I have no plan to end up in a coffin anytime soon.”
“Good. You better not.” Tony said like a stern warning but the hint of fear in his eyes belied it.
“Can we go home now?” He asked, exhaustion hitting him hard as the adrenaline faded.
Tony nodded. “I’ve made the executive decision that we’re moving your weekend visit up by two days.”
Peter let out an amused exhale. “Ok, but when we get back, can you get these things off me?” He held his arms up to show the cuffs still dangling around his wrists.
“I don’t know.” Tony said, the nanotech re-forming the mask around his face. “I think I might leave them on for a day or so as your punishment for getting yourself in this situation and practically scaring me to death.”
“Tony.” He whined in protest. He didn’t think the man was actually serious, but you could never be too sure.
“Or if you want, we can discuss a more suitable punishment.” Tony said, the Ironman armor making his voice sound more serious and intimidating. At this point, though, Peter knew Tony wasn’t completely kidding. Some kind of consequence awaited him. Probably not the cuffs staying on, but something.
“Hm that coffin’s looking better and better.” He joked, pretending to look at it longingly.
“Not funny.” Tony said sternly in what Morgan had coined his ‘dad voice’ before grabbing him around the waist and blasting off into the air.
“Hey can we stop for ice cream on the way? I feel like getting buried alive in a coffin is kind of an ice cream situation.” He said, loud enough so Tony would hear him over the wind.
“No. No ice cream. God, you and Morgan are the reason I have so many grey hairs.”
“I thought that was from old age.”
“You’re really scoring lots of points today Pete.”
Peter grinned. “Are you sure we can’t get ice cream?”
“No!”
“So you’re not sure?”
“No. No ice cream!”
Later that night, after Tony had gotten the cuffs off him, and they’d had some time to emotionally recover, Peter ate his bowl of chocolate cookie dough ice cream while he watched Moana, sandwiched between Morgan and Tony.