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In his defense, geometry had never been his bag.
Stephen had been great at many things in school, his grades were astounding in Science and History and English Lit. His math had always been the ugly duckling of his report card. Right now, he wished he had applied himself just a teensy bit more than Parker had, if only to have some sort of advantage. He traversed the Mirror Dimension, dodging glass and metal and moving cars to get his containment unit back. All he had to do was cut across and snatch the box. Snatch the box and not get webbed.
God he wished he had paid more attention to fifth-period math and less to the cheerleader who would brutally break his heart.
Stephen felt a little like he was on a medieval torture rack. Webs had him trussed up in the middle of a spiral, his hands webbed together to keep him from conjuring and utterly powerless in his position. With an undignified growl, he struggled to free himself with a half-hearted spell.
"Ow!" His already aching fingers flexed as the sling ring flew off of his hand. "Peter, don't. You don't know–Parker!"
It had all happened so fast, it seemed. The portal closed behind the spider kid with a whoosh. He hadn't been on the wrong side of a portal for a long, long time and the second the sparks flickered out of existence, he let out an annoyed groan.
Surely, he thought, the kid was just going to go hide the box and then find Wong to let him out. It wasn't like he was being unreasonable. He had tried to help the kid in what he thought was a last-ditch effort, it all went sideways and then he had to clean up the mess. There was no reason he would just… leave him here. No. Peter was a good kid and he respected his elders (hence why he couldn't get him to stop calling everyone sir or ma'am). He'd probably realize that he needed him to finish his mission and he'd be out of this joint in five. Ten minutes, tops.
One minute turned to two, turned to ten, turned to thirty.
Stephen still remained, dangling aimlessly as he floated through the ether in the Mirror Dimension. Time and space were weird in there and as he crossed states and quite literally watched the world go by, he could feel the vein in his temple twitching and his face flush in irritation.
"I'm going to wring his neck. I am going to wring his fucking neck, so help me Vishanti–this is your fucking fault, Tony!" He called, to no one in particular. The Mirror Dimension was eerily quiet, save for the ambient noise of existence below. "You gave him too long of a leash and now he's gone off–fuck. PETER PARKER, GET YOUR SORRY ASS HERE BEFORE I CALL YOUR AUNT!"
Time ticked by slowly, and yet, not at all. Stephen had stopped mentally keeping score of how many Mississippi's he had gone through in this wretched place. He had struggled against his binds, hoping to at least get his circulation going, but the webs wouldn't budge. He had to give it to the kid–he did pretty well with the web fluid.
"God, if you're anywhere. I promise to be so much better. I just want to feel my legs again, some time this century."
It was lucky that he didn't find the sound of his own voice irritating because he had talked enough to last him a dozen lifetimes. And he had categorically gone through every deity he could think of, short of Loki and Thor. Now that he thought about it, maybe having him fall for thirty minutes wasn't the nicest thing he could've done to the guy. Maybe this was his punishment.
"Please, I just want to go home."
Red rock was now visible beneath him. As he drifted from his spider cradle, he could see every detail of the layered rock and the vastness of the valley. It would have been, on any other occasion, a beautiful sight, but the sun was blazing and he was stuck in place and within the Canyon, everything felt immense and he, insignificant. He had been to space, he had been inside the Soul Stone, but nothing ever made him feel so small and worthless as drifting through the Grand Canyon without a hope in the world.
By his reckoning, hours and hours had passed, based purely on the volume of thoughts he had cycled through. Turns out, that when all that is left was him and his thoughts, Stephen didn't like the company all that much.
"I'm such an asshole."
He drew a deep breath and twisted his hands within the binds to get the circulation going.
"I should've just listened to the kid. Now he's out doing God-knows-what and getting himself killed. Fuck!"
He laughed sardonically, shaking his head at himself in derision.
"That's what I do, isn't it? I just don't listen to people when they need it most and act like such a sanctimonious asshole. I did it with Christine, I did it with the Ancient One, I do it with Wong–the kid was scared. His whole life was flashing before his eyes and he didn't know what to do and I, I yelled at him."
His voice cracked as his eyes betrayed him. Crying was a weakness of his and there was no stopping the onslaught of tears once they started. Not that he had to worry about anyone walking in.
"He needed someone to listen to him, someone who understood. I spent a year trying to fix my hands by any means necessary and he just needed an adult to ask him the right questions."
Some voice in the back of his mind told him to stop wasting water when he was in such scorching heat. Eventually, the tears had stopped flowing and his body slacked, exhausted from being in suspension for so long. He had eventually gotten his hands free, but with no sling ring, there was nowhere he could go. Peter, if he was still alive after whatever half-baked idea he has pursued, wouldn't know how to get him back even if he wanted to. That much was clear, by the light that had died and the dusk quickly approaching. The better half of a day, he supposed he had been in there.
Stephen could freely admit–if he was to die there, it wouldn't have been the greatest tragedy of his life. Not when the light of the moon glowed upon every sparse plant and tree and scurrying animal across the sand. It would be a beautiful place to die and no one could say he did not make the most of his life.
He had mattered, in more ways than one. In better ways than his surgeon self could have ever imagined. If he were to remain here, trapped for eternity, it would be OK.
To his right, a new noise appeared. It almost felt like a distant memory, and after the deafening half-silence of the Mirror Dimension it almost too loud.
And then he saw it, sparks of orange, ever-expanding into a portal.
He fully expected to be given an earful the second he stepped into view. However, the person summoning the portal was not Wong.
This kid? What was his name? Ted? Fred?
He stepped through the portal, face locked in a scowl. "I was dangling over the Grand Canyon for twelve hours!" He swung for the box, only to have it pulled away by the girl. Apparently, they were still playing fix the baddie. He drew a deep breath and mentally prepared himself to save this mess. But, before he did…
"You made a portal?" Stephen had the desired effect of scaring the kid as shitless as possible while he stuttered out a yes. "Not bad."
Maybe he would make a mental note to reach out to him when he was a little older. After all, he had promised several deities he would do better.