Work Text:
Peter Parker has a simple routine.
- Wake up.
- Message Mr. Stark.
- Get ready for school.
- Go to school.
- After school, if it's a Wednesday or Friday, get picked up by Happy and be taken to the compound to hang out with Mr. Stark.
- Go patrolling as Spider-Man.
- Go home to hang out with Aunt May and eat.
- Go and study whilst facetiming Ned and MJ.
- Chill out.
- Go to sleep.
It was pretty standard.
He had many different routines, but that was the default.
But today was different. His routine got messed up during step 6, and he hadn't prepared himself for it.
A scream echoed through the city and Peter smirked. He loved helping people, he wanted nothing more than to see the look on a robber's face when he had been defeated, and the look of the survivors.
He swung down the building he had perched on and followed the scream into an alleyway. A total cliché.
"Stop! Get off me!" A woman screamed. She was pinned against a brick wall, by a tall man who towered over her threateningly. Peter couldn't get a good look at his face, but the woman was quite young with black hair and smooth skin, that had tears running down it.
"Why are you being such a bitch, huh? Just stay fucking still."
Peter stopped for a second. He recognized that voice...
No. He couldn't stall. The woman needed his help.
Peter swung down and landed right behind the man, startling the both of them. The woman sighed in relief, already knowing who Spider-Man was. Peter grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him off of her.
"I believe she told you to get off her-"
Peter froze as he stared at the man's face. Those icy blue eyes. His bright blonde hair. There was no mistaking it. Steven fucking Westcott. Skip.
"Hey Einstein, fancy playing a game?"
Peter really needed to throw up.
Skip took Peter's stalling to his advantage, and ripped himself out of his grip. He ran down the alleyway and turned the corner, dashing out of eye sight.
Fuck, he let him get away. No, no, no, no.
"Th-thank you...thank you so much." The woman's voice made Peter jump and whip his head around to face her. His mouth was dry. He couldn't breathe.
Peter nodded in response, the only thing he was capable of doing in that moment.
"His name...if you want to catch him...it's Steven. Steven Westcott." The woman added, thanking Spider-Man again before fleeing.
Yep, that did it.
Peter quickly yanked his mask off and threw up in a near by trash can. His stomach hurt. His head hurt. His skin hurt. He soon tasted salty tears in his mouth and let out a whimper. How did this happen? Why did this happen?
The memories flooded his brain. The hands, the magazines, the feeling. It made him sick to his very soul. And yet, all he could feel was guilt. The last time Peter saw Skip was eight years ago, which means...Skip had been...terrorizing people for eight whole years because Peter never said anything.
Guilt. Hurt. Sick. Terror.
That was all Peter could feel, and it he was sure it lasted for an eternity. It played on a loop. Until, he finally felt nothing at all.
Peter blinked and it was suddenly pitch black, and he was still sat in the alleyway. His phone buzzed and buzzed and buzzed, until he finally picked it up.
"Peter." A relieved voice echoed out of his phone and into the alleyway. It was Tony's voice. "Where have you been? I've called you thousands of times, and May is going crazy!"
Peter opened his mouth to talk. He knew what words are, right? He had a voice, didn't he?
"I'm fine." He said. But it didn't feel real. It felt like the words were coming out of another person's mouth.
"Oh, really? You're fine, are you? God, Peter, we give you a curfew for a reason!" There was a silence for a few moments, before Tony spoke again, voice steady and full of concern. "Peter...why have you been in an alleyway for seven hours straight?"
Tony must've pulled up Karen's stats.
Peter took a moment to answer. "S-Seven hours?"
"Fuck, alright, kid. Stay there, I'm coming to get you. Stay on the phone." Tony said in a rush. He was fluent in Peter Parker, he knew something was wrong as soon as Peter spoke. And he was also pretty sure that it wasn't normal for someone to sit in an alleyway for seven hours and not even realize it.
"Can you tell me what happened? Are you hurt? Karen says you aren't injured but there could be a fault..."
Are you hurt?
That was a loaded question.
"I...I don't..." Peter started feeling the concrete underneath him. Started feeling the cold wind on his cheeks. Started smelling the trash can next to him.
"I'm ten minutes away, kid."
Wow. That was quick.
Peter started realizing that he wasn't fully there yet. He had no sense of time. He could've been on the phone with Tony for a whole hour for all he knew. He let out a sob at the thought.
"It's alright, it's okay. I'm almost there, bud."
It's not okay. It's all his fault.
Peter could barely feel the hand on his shoulder that was suddenly placed down, a few moments later.
But then he did, and he yelped in surprise.
"Hey, hey. It's just me, bud. It's just Tony."
Peter could barely hear him. All he could think of was hands, magazines, pain. The hand on the boy's shoulder felt like it was burning through the spandex. Burning and burning and burning. It felt like Skip.
"No! N-No...get off...get off me!" Peter cried out and shuffled away. Tony immediately retracted his hand and looked at Peter in concern and heartbreak.
"Alright...it's okay. I'm not touching you, see?" He said, sticking his hands up. Peter didn't look. He pulled his legs to his chest and cried into his knees, trying desperately to block everything out. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to see. He didn't want to feel.
"Peter...you have to tell me what's wrong. What is it? Are you hurt?" The man asked, pulling up Peter's vitals.
Peter remained silent.
Tony cursed. He didn't know what to do in this situation. The kid wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't let him touch him, was sitting on the dirty floor of an alleyway, crying into his knees. The only thing he could think to do was bring him back to the compound, but he had to get Peter to calm down first.
"Okay, Peter, I need you to do something for me. I need you to lift your head up for a second. Can you do that?" Tony was itching to hold his kid, but he couldn't. Not right now.
It took the poor kid a good few seconds, but he finally managed to lift his head up and look at his father figure, and Tony's heart broke. Peter's eyes were full of panic, bloodshot and tired. His face was drenched with his tears, leaving blotchy marks in their path.
"That's good...you're doing really good." Tony reassured gently. "Now, can you take three deep breaths for me?"
Peter stilled. His breathing was erratic, coming short and quick.
"Come on, kid. With me, yeah? In and out." Tony took exaggerated breaths so Peter could follow along. "Three deep breaths, you can do it."
Peter tried his best to control his breathing, and it eventually started working a few moments later. Tony was relieved that he was breathing normally now, but he could tell that Peter was still panicking. That he still needed help. It was like...it was like he wasn't there.
"Peter...can you tell me where we are right now?" He asked gently. Peter's lip quivered as he looked at his surroundings, he looked completely lost...but not physically.
"'s dark." Peter whimpered, desperately wanting to curl into himself again.
"I know, buddy, but you can do it. Use that amazing eye sight of yours."
Peter blinked and looked from side to side. Tony watched his Adam's apple bopping up and down as he swallowed his nerves down.
"We're...we're in an alleyway." He finally chocked out.
"That's it, good job." Tony praised.
"We're in an alleyway...a-and there's a trash can...and a window o-over there." As Peter started listing things he could see, his panicking decreased and he became more and more aware. "Oh my God...oh my God." He sobbed.
"Hey, hey, hey...it's okay. It's alright." Tony reached a hand out to comfort his crying kid, but stopped himself. "Are you with me now, Pete?"
"Y-Yeah." He sniffled, voice hoarse.
Tony nodded and slowly reached his hand out further, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder. When he got no reaction, he breathed a sigh of relief and shuffled closer to his kid, wrapping an arm around him. Peter immediately buried his head into Tony's chest, letting his tears fall onto the man's Black Sabbath shirt, which the man couldn't care less about.
"You're okay...just breathe." Tony repeated reassurances as he ran his fingers through Peter's curls, in hopes it would calm him down like it usually does. "How do you feel about getting off this dirty alleyway ground and going home?"
It took a while for Peter to compose himself enough to speak. "O-Okay."
"Okay. Good. I'm sure May will be relieved to see you. I've already told her I've found you-"
"No! No...I can't go back to May...I can't." Peter interrupted, shaking his head at Tony frantically, tears in his eyes. The thought of going back to May after seeing Skip again made Peter feel sick. He never told her about what happened. Seeing her would just be a reminder that he's the reason that Skip is still...harassing people.
Tony furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but decided not to question Peter in the state that he was in.
"Okay, alright. How about the compound?"
Peter swallowed, and nodded.
And as Tony flew both of them back home, putting Peter to bed, the boy started to really miss his simple 10-step routine.
"What do you mean he freaked out?!" May's voice exclaimed through the phone Tony was currently holding to his ear.
"I don't know, May. I told him I was going to take him back to you and he just..." Tony sighed. "I don't even know what's got him freaked out in the first place. I'm hoping if I give him some space, he'll come to me. Or you."
Tony could hear May's distressed breathing through the phone. "Okay...just- just update me, alright? I need to know everything. And tell him to call me."
"Of course." Tony nodded to himself. "He'll get through whatever this is, May. He's...he's an amazing boy, and so strong. He'll be okay."
"I really hope you're right, Stark."
That night, Peter had a nightmare.
It was full of hands, magazines and pain. Pleading, sobbing and touching.
He hadn't had a nightmare about Skip in years, he thought he had conquered his fear of the blonde man.
Peter couldn't go back to sleep after that.
In the morning, Peter forgot how to use his voice. Or at least, didn't want to. He was silent during breakfast, silent in the lab, and silent at night. All that was running through his head was:
Hey Einstein.
Let's play a game.
Do you want me to get upset, Peter?
Stop moving.
I know you like it.
Ben and May will only be upset with you if you tell them. You don't want them thinking you're disgusting and dirty, do you?
It's your fault.
Your fault.
Myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault.
"Peter."
The boy jumped at the unexpected voice. Tony was looking at him, concern in his eyes that looked like it could eat him alive.
"I didn't want to have to pry you, buddy...but I'm really worried. So is May. You have to tell me what's going on."
People will think you're disgusting and dirty.
"No, I don't."
Tony flinched from the harshness in his voice. "Peter..."
Peter stood up from his seat, the chair stools scraping against the floor as he rushed to his room.
No one can know.
Tony didn't know what to do. Peter wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't go back to his apartment with May, he wouldn't even say one word to his Aunt. The man couldn't even come up with any ideas as to why the boy was acting like this. He wasn't physically hurt or anything like that. He made sure of it.
Tony was a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. He was Iron Man, a mechanic and a scientist. He fixed things. And somehow, he didn't know how to fix whatever this is.
He only had one idea. And it was a complete invasion of Peter's privacy, but it was all he could think of.
He pulled up the footage of Peter's patrol through the Baby Monitor Protocol and looked for clues. He skipped to around the time he found the kid, and went back seven hours.
Peter was standing on a rooftop. Seems normal.
He jumps down to save a woman in an alleyway. Also normal.
He grabs the guy and-
Oh.
That's...not normal.
Peter hesitated.
Peter...let the guy go.
It seemed like his kid was in shock. He wasn't moving. Not until the woman left and he threw up in a trashcan.
"FRIDAY, go back to the footage of the guy. Run facial recognition."
"Right away, sir."
A few seconds passed before FRIDAY got Tony the information he wanted.
"The gentleman's name is Steven Westcott. He is twenty-six years old. His birthdate is-"
"Thanks FRI, a name was all I needed. Any offenses? Criminal records?"
"Only speeding tickets, sir."
Well, that's helpful.
Tony sighed to himself, then pulled out his phone.
TS: I need you to find someone for me.
He waited for a response, then smirked when he got one.
NR: Name?
TS: Steven Westcott.
NR: On it.
It didn't take long for Natasha to find Skip's apartment. She is a trained assassin, after all. He wasn't home, so that gave her time to dig up some stuff. Tony hadn't given her any information, just a name. But she knew that it's because this was serious. She looked through many bookshelves, drawers, cabinets, random boxes in the man's room...
Until she found a frame on the wall. It was tilted and oddly placed. She smirked and walked over to it. Jackpot.
She moved the frame off the wall, and just as she expected, there was a secret compartment behind it. It contained a cardboard box, and she lifted it out to place it on the couch.
She opened it and found...envelopes. Huh.
Nat furrowed her eyebrows and grabbed one of them. There was handwriting on the front of the envelope, which read 'Mattson' .
She opened it up, and inside contained photographs. She pulled one out and-
...
Suddenly, the woman couldn't breathe. She audibly gasped and instantly shoved the photograph back inside it's envelope, dropping it back into the box.
She felt sick. Physically sick.
Because the photographs were child pornography.
She counted the amount of envelopes and immediately knew that she was going to murder this man. She got her phone out to message Tony.
NR: I'm at his place. He's not here but I found something.
TS: Something good?
Nat swallowed back bile.
NR: Something jail worthy. You want him dead or alive? Happy to oblige to the first option.
TS: Bring what you found first. Then we'll see.
Nat left the apartment, taking the box with her.
"Tony...I- I just don't think you should look at these." Nat tried to reason as she kept the man from opening the envelopes. "This guy...Steven. He's the worst of the worst."
Tony felt his stomach drop. He knew this man was connected to Peter somehow, so if he was the worst of the worst, that meant that Peter...
He didn't want to think about it.
"Just tell me what's in them, then." Tony said, leaning back in his chair.
Nat took a deep breath and sat down. "There's...photographs. Photos of...well - it's child pornography."
Tony swore that time stopped. Everything was slowing down and he forgot how to breathe. Because that could mean that...Peter...
"This envelope in particular caught my eye." The spy explained as she pulled it out. "It's the only one written in red pen. Whoever this was, must've been...his, uh...favorite."
Both Tony and Nat had to stop themselves from throwing up everywhere from that statement.
The man took the envelope with shaky hands and read the name.
'Einstein'.
Something clicked in Tony's brain, and he thought back to a conversation that he and Peter had a couple of months prior.
"Is this good, Mr. Stark? Did I do it right?"
"It's brilliant, Peter. Absolutely genius. Someday, you'll be the new Einstein."
Peter's panic attack caught Tony off guard. It was only until the boy calmed down when he spoke.
"Please don't call me that."
Tony saw red once he put all the pieces together.
"Nat, I want this guy dead. Bring him over here." He told her, voice trembling with anger...or despair.
Natasha simply nodded before getting up.
Tony wasn't able to stop his tears from building up in his eyes as he imagined baby Peter...completely helpless and in pain. Feeling vulnerable with no one to help him.
He got up from his seat and made his way over to the kid's room, making it there in record time. He swung the door open and Peter looked at him, his face was drained and the twinkle in his eyes was gone.
Peter was a genius. He knew that Tony had figured it out, just because of how he was looking at him. That only made him start crying.
"No, no, no." Tony instantly rushed over to him. He sat down next to the kid, not touching him just in case. But Peter dropped his head on Tony's chest, making the man's heart tighten. He wrapped his arms around his kid and kissed the top of his head.
Peter sobbed until he was sure he was dying. He had felt like he was dying for a few days now.
"I-It's my fault."
"Don't you dare say that, Peter. I don't want to hear it." Tony said, before Peter could even finish his sentence.
"N-No...it is. He's - he's still out there because I-I didn't say anything."
"Peter...bambino...do you blame the others before you?" He asked the trembling kid.
"I-I...no."
"Exactly. So don't blame yourself for his actions, you understand?" He asked. Peter nodded into his chest, and Tony exhaled.
"I've got it sorted. You don't have to worry about him anymore."
They held each other in silence for a few more moments before Tony felt the tears he was holding back finally slip down his face.
"God, I love you so much, kid. Nothing will ever change that."
Peter sniffled, but smiled. "I love you too, Mr. Stark."
Peter hoped his simple 10-step routine would find him again.