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It was instant. One second, Peter could hear the heartbeats of everyone in the room, the inner workings of machines from down the hall, could see as clear as day. The next, it was like everything was muted. The cuffs snapped tightly, shackling his wrists and Peter couldn’t hear, couldn’t see properly. Everything was muffled and blurry. He felt unsteady, like his world shifted on its axis and left him dangling on the edge.
“What… what did you do?” Peter whispered. He tugged experimentally at the cuffs, crying out as a sharp bolt of electricity ran up his arm and all through his body.
Norman chuckled, leaning in so his beady eyes were glaring right into Peter’s.
“I warned Tony. I told him I would find my creation, that he couldn’t hide you forever.” Peter’s breathing stopped. Norman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re mine.”
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Peter’s chest hurt as he puffed for air, trying to make it across the bridge to Tony. He could see Tony waving his hands, gesturing for him to try to hurry, and he was. He really was. But his asthma was making it hard to breathe, to run, the air not making it to his lungs. Peter stumbled as the villain broke off another piece of the bridge, then another, and Peter cried out as he felt debris smash behind him and throw him forward.
“Kid! You need to get up, come on!” Tony’s shouting spurred Peter to pull his feet under him, to use his shaky hands to haul him from the ground. Peter’s hearing was going, he couldn’t hear more than the pounding of his own heart, the blood boiling in his veins. He was so close.
Suddenly, the ground was crumbling beneath his feet, and Peter screamed as he made one last leap to Tony. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. He wasn’t going to make it.
A large hand clasped around his own had Peter’s eyes opening wide and staring up at Tony as the man huffed. The sudden stop jerked at Peter’s shoulder, and he cried out in pain, tears springing to his eyes.
"Come on, Pete. I got you.” Tony huffed. Peter’s feet scrambled against the edge of what was left of the bridge, and with one final heave, Tony yanked him up over the edge, falling back to the ground and squeezing Peter in his embrace. Peter released a choked-off sob as Tony shuffled them further from the edge, shoving his face into Tony’s chest.
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“Ugh!”
Peter threw the now broken pen on his desk harshly, glaring at his hand and the bright blue ink that now covered it. That’s the third pen today that Peter broke because he couldn’t control his newfound strength.
His dad was right. He never should’ve gone to Oscorp. This all had to have happened because of the stupid spider that bit him there. He came home from the field trip feeling horrible, was sick for two days straight after, and put on fever-induced bed rest, and then woke up with super hearing, an insatiable appetite, was sticking to everything, and super strength.
Peter had obviously told his father, who then proceeded to go on a rage-fuelled rampage throughout the penthouse shouting about how he was going to sue Osborn and had only eventually calmed down when he noticed his loud volume affecting Peter’s newly enhanced senses.
“Peter, you okay?” Tony rapped his knuckles on Peter’s open door, eyes narrowed as he took in the broken pen and Peter’s ink-covered palm. “What happened?”
“I broke the stupid pen because I can’t control these stupid powers, all because of a stupid spider!” Peter said. His frustration caused unbidden tears to rise up in his eyes, his anger overflowing because why me? Why did this happen to me?
“Hey, hey calm down. Nothing we can’t fix.” Tony murmured, tugging Peter’s hand towards him, kneeling so he could look at eye level, checking for any cuts.
“You can’t fix me, dad, I’m not one of your robots you can just take apart and rebuild. I’m a freak.” Peter moaned.
“Hey,” Tony flicked Peter’s ear, much to Peter’s annoyance, and glared into his kid's eyes, “don’t speak like that about my kid.”
Peter tugged his hand away from Tony and stood up, pacing over to his ensuite bathroom and pumping out some soap from the dispenser. “It’s not like it isn’t true, might as well send me to Ross now so they can start their experiments.” Peter tugged on his hand as his fingers stuck to the faucet, shouting in anger and panic because great, now his hand won’t unstick.
“Pete-Peter hey! Calm down, you're going to hurt yourself.” Peter bowed his head as the tears started flowing, harsh sobs pushing their way from his chest. Tony rubbed Peter’s shoulders with one hand, the other rubbing the hand that was sticking to the faucet. “It’ll be worse if you freak out. Take some breaths.”
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