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The boot on the back of Peter’s neck increased its pressure again, squishing Peter’s cheek into the hard linomal floor. He held back the groan he wanted to make, pressing his lips together as tightly as he could. The loud sound of his stomach growling was enough to annoy the man holding him down, he didn’t need to add to the sounds.
“Shut up,” the man hissed at him, pressure increasing just a little more.
It wasn’t his fault that he could still smell the turkey, brie, and apple sandwich with fries the waitress had just served them. He didn’t even get to take a bite before the men swarmed in and had them on their knees, guns pointing down at them. He was hungry and besides his food, the restaurant smelled of everyone else's food.
The immediate danger he was in, had set off his spider sense into overdrive, which in turn, turned up all of his senses way past eleven. Which, unfortunately, included his sense of smell and taste too, which in turn then triggered his stomach. It was a vicious cycle, one he could only avoid if he was able to get out of the situation.
“Leave him alone,” Tony said somewhere from Peter’s right. He couldn’t see the man with how he was situated, his head was facing the wrong direction. All he could see were table legs framing the space where the wall met the floor, ugly green trimming and all.
“I don’t know,” one of the men, who had introduced himself as War Dog, barked out. “I think this one means something to you, no? I don’t see why you’d be having dinner with him in this pathetic little restaurant if you didn’t.”
There were 6 men in total, one holding Peter down, another with Tony, War Dog was standing between them, or at least it sounded like it. Peter couldn’t tell where the other three were, but he could still hear their footsteps, he assumed they were guarding the exits.
Peter could, in theory, take down every single one of them before any shots were even fired. He knew he was quick enough, he’d honed his Spider-man skills over the last two years, making sure if he was ever up against another Thanos, he’d win for sure. But he also knew Tony didn’t want him to, it would risk his identity to these men and possibly everyone outside. It was clear these men were here to get money from Tony, they had no idea who Peter really was.
“Do you think I want to be here?” Tony responded, his voice sounding so annoyed. “Because you must not know me very well. I’m only here as a favor for my driver, okay? That’s his bratty nephew, I promised I’d take out to dinner. This is pretty much a Make A Wish thing, except the kid’s not dying or anything.”
The words coming out of Tony’s mouth hurt, he knew they were lies, knew that Tony was just trying to protect him but that didn’t mean he was capable of hearing them.
“I didn’t know the great Tony Stark was into charity cases?” War Dog continued. “Still, I’m sure he’s worth a little more than the rest of them.”
Tony had skillfully negotiated the release of the 14 dinners and employees that had been inside with them. Each of them added another 4 million dollars to the already 600 million dollar ransom the men were asking for. Putting up a good act of not caring and being annoyed with even having to look at random strangers, Tony gave a roll of his eyes as the ransom total crept higher and higher. Peter knew he cared deeply about the other people, knew he’d do just about anything to keep innocent people safe.
“Eh,” Tony replied. “Not really. Just make it another million and we’ll call it a day.”
Biting on his lower lip, Peter desperately tried to hold in the sob that bubbled in his chest. He just had to keep it together for a little bit longer, he refused to let these men gain any kind of leverage with him.
“I don’t know, Tony,” War Dog said, Peter could hear him getting closer. “I think I’ve seen you with this kid before. How do I know this isn’t your little bastard son, huh? Maybe this is your playboy days finally catching up to you? Want to keep the kid a secret, avoid getting your dirty laundry splashed across the gossip mags?”
“Do you think I would let any son of mine, bastard or not, parade around in cheap hand me downs? Just look at the kid, holes in his jeans, shoes held together by duct tape, and that stupid sciece pun shirt. Illegitimate bastard or not, no kid of mine’s gonna dress like that,” Tony said with such practiced ease, as if he’d thought these things a million times before.
Feeling way too self conscious, Peter squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would somehow help the situation.
War Dog snorted a laugh, as did the man holding Peter down. “Really, Tony, what do you expect me to believe? That you’d really just parade around with this street rat for no good reason? We did a little reconission for this job, I’ve got pictures of the kid skipping around the Tower like he owns the place.”
“For some reason, he thinks that he can tag along to the Tower when his Uncle’s working. Honestly, we just throw him in a room with some paper and crayons or something. I don’t fucking know. I don’t babysit the brat, Jesus. I don’t even want him there, but you know how it is, gotta keep employees happy.”
Peter wished he could see Tony’s face, then he would know if he was lying for sure. The words stung particularly hard as they were said. Since coming back from the Blip, their relationship had grown a lot stronger. Tony was there for him anytime he needed him, helped with his suits and training, and offered him lab time. Tony even gave him a room at the cabin, Compound and the newly built Stark Towers. He had a place in Tony’s home, he wasn’t just some uninvited guest, he just needed to keep holding onto that thought.
He refused to believe this was all charity. He refused to believe this was because Happy and May were engaged now, soon to be married. Tony had to like him right? He wouldn’t take Peter out for dinner because of his report card if he didn’t. He wouldn’t always treat Peter the way he did if it was all fake. Peter was in his life before Happy and May got engaged, it couldn’t just be for that.
Or maybe Tony’s been lying this entire time. The only reason Peter has any space in Tony’s life is because he had no choice. He needs to babysit Spider-man, keep Peter out of trouble and now he’s forced to make room for both Peter and May in his life.
Peter had zoned out a little, losing track of the conversation, but came back in at the sound of Tony’s yelp of pain. Wanting to see what had happened, he squirmed in his hold, trying to turn his face and see, but the man didn’t let up the pressure on his face.
“Geez,” Tony said, annoyed. “I’m not lying about the twirp okay? He means nothing to me. He is literally just some kid that I was forced to be with. You could replace him with any other kid off the streets and I doubt I’d even notice.”
“I’m still not convinced,” War Dog said, his black combat boots stopping in front of Peter, taking up his entire field of vision. The man smelled like gunpowder and blood, a sharp metallic taste that lingered in Peter’s senses. “Bring him up.”
The boot finally left his neck, only to be replaced with a hand grabbing his hair, pulling him back up, so he was sitting on his knees. Peter tried to turn his head to find Tony, but War Dog had squatted down and grabbed Peter’s face, turning it so they were staring at each other.
“Hi,” he said casually, looking over Peter’s face with interest. “Hmmm, he kind of looks like you, Tony. You’ve got the same hair, same eye color…,” he trailed but then shook his head. “But nah, I don’t see any of the Stark intelligence in him. I mean, he’s crying his little heart out and we both know, Stark’s don’t cry.”
Unable to keep this one in, Peter let out a sob at War Dog’s words. The tears were still streaming down his face. War Dog used his hold to turn Peter’s face left and then right, giving him a small glimpse of a kneeling Tony but nothing else. “Hm,” War Dog said, looking Peter up and down. “Although I’m sure a pretty boy like him would fetch a pretty penny on some markets we know about.”
“Jesus Christ,” Tony said. “It’s bad enough you assholes are mercenaries, don’t need to be pedophiles too.”
War Dog gave Peter a bright smile before letting go of his chin. Before Peter could look over at Tony again, the man above him grabbed his hair and pulled hard, forcing Peter’s head back and up.
“I never said I’d be the one buying him, Tony. I’m just saying, we’ve got options here. We can take him with us, hold him for ransom money, sell him off to the highest bidder, or maybe we just throw him to the dogs.”
“He’s not worth anything,” Tony said flatly. “He’s just some kid from Queens, you won't get any money out of his family for ransom. They are dirt poor as is, barely able to put food on the table. You’re better off just taking the extra million I’m throwing in for him and then sending him out the door.”
Tears were now flowing down Peter’s face at a rapid speed, he was sobbing, letting out little hiccups of sound he couldn’t hold in. He had to believe Tony was lying, but at the same time, the insecurities he always had came creeping up on him, invading the rational parts of his brain.
Because it wasn’t fair, not really. He had always loved Tony, always thought of him as his mentor, but now things were changing. He started to feel like Tony was more of a father figure to him. Seeing how Tony was with his daughter, his own flesh and blood and then seeing how Tony treated Peter the same way, it made him feel like he really was one of Tony’s kids too.
The thought had scared him at first, not wanting to replace his Dad or Ben, but as time went by he saw Tony fitting in a new position, not his Dad, not his Uncle… but something else. A guardian, a parent, someone who took care of Peter.
But now that thought was being pushed away, with a boot to the neck and a hand gripping and pulling his hair.
War Dog snorted. “Aw, you hear that, kid? It seems Tony Stark really doesn’t like you. I wonder how that feels, to know he feels obligated just to look at you. Did you think he cared?” War Dog paused, the sound of Peter’s sobs echoing in the near silence. “Oh, Tony, I think the boy thought you cared about him. I think all of this is news to him, he really bought the whole lie, didn’t he? Couldn’t see past the Tony Stark charm to realize he was nothing but a burden.”
“Just leave him alone,” Tony barked out. “I don’t have time for this, just let him go so I can give you your money already. You know they aren’t going to bring it in if there are civilians around. You’re just prolonging your paycheck by playing stupid little games.”
“I’m still not sure, the boy is awfully upset to hear all of this. Really makes me think, he thought you cared about him.” War Dog walked back over to him. “What’s your name?”
“Don’t,” Tony said sternly. “Don’t say anything.”
War Dog took out a knife from somewhere at his side, holding it up for Peter to see. His spider senses screamed at him, his muscles twitching, wanting to break the rope and run, to dodge any potential knife strike.
Moving both deliberately and slowly, War Dog held the knife up to Peter’s neck, the tip pressing into the delicate skin of his exposed throat. The pressure wasn’t enough to break the skin just yet, but Peter could feel every millimeter of the sharp blade there, just waiting to pierce his skin.
“Name,” he said, casually, applying just a little more pressure.
“P-P-eter,” he stuttered out, swallowing thickly, feeling as the knife moved with the bob of his throat. He would have done anything not to have answered, but his nerves betrayed him, forcing him to out his identity.
“P-p-p-eter?” War Dog mocked, setting off a cascade of laughter from the other men in the room. “Alright P-p-p-peter, I think it’s time I hear from you now. Do you think you can muster enough courage to answer a few of my questions? Maybe stop those crocodile tears for a minute too.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Tony repeated. “In fact, I’d enjoy it if you kept your mouth shut.”
War Dog snorted. “Really Tony? I’ve got a knife to this kid’s throat and you’re telling him to risk it? Maybe you really don’t like him. But too bad, I want the kid to talk. This is turning a normal ransom job into something much more entertaining. Now Peter, I would really enjoy it if you told me what you thought your relationship with Tony Stark was?”
“I…,” Peter started, he could lie, he knew that but he was a terrible liar and he was already scared and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t in a long time. The words poured out of his mouth no matter how hard he tried to keep it all in. “He’s… he’s my mentor but.. I …”
“Go on,” War Dog said, a grin sliding across his face as the knife pushed just a little more. He didn’t have to threaten Peter anymore, didn’t even need to slice his throat open, the truth was pouring out of him the second he opened his mouth.
“I feel like he’s a f-father f-f-igure to me.”
As soon as Peter said it, everyone aside from Tony started laughing.
“Did you hear that Tony? This pathetic little kid thought of you as a father, how nice!”
“Jesus, his parents are dead, any guy who pays him any bit of attention becomes a father figure to him. He’s just some whiny, clingy little kid who is desperate for love and attention. I can’t fucking help it if I get forced to give it to him,” Tony spat out and Peter lost all resolve he had, letting out a wail of a cry.
The hand in his hair tightened even more and despite being a superhero, with super strength, reflexes, and agility, he felt more helpless than he’d ever felt before. He wouldn’t be able to fight his way out of this, even if he tried.
He was 5 again, losing his parents, he was 13 again, losing Ben, and now, 18, and realizing he never had Tony to begin with.
“Dead parents?” War Dog laughed even louder. “You sure know how to pick 'em, Tony, I’ll give you that.” War Dog pressed the knife in a little more, breaking the skin and Peter gasped. “Now that you know the truth, little Peter, how do you feel?”
“What are you his fucking therapist now?” Tony barked out.
“He’s gonna need a therapist when we’re done with him,” War Dog said, pressing the knife hard enough to finally break the skin. It didn’t hurt, not really, but Peter still flinched a little. He could feel the cool blood pooling on his skin, dropping down onto his chest. “Answer me.”
“Terrible,” Peter sobbed, every little movement pushed the blade in a little more.
“Jesus Christ,” Tony shouted. “Just stop already, okay? I’m already at the end of my patience.”
War Dog pulled the knife away, turning to look over at Tony. The man holding Peter’s hair let go too and he was finally free to let his chin drop down. He now had the ability to look over at Tony and he immediately did so, desperate to see his mentor. Tony was already looking at him, Peter hoped he’d see something in Tony’s eyes that would reassure him it was just a lie, but he didn’t. The man stared at him, looking so annoyed and bored, Peter found zero solaces there and he let out another loud sob.
“Alright then,” War Dog said, gesturing to the man holding Tony. “Down on the ground with him.”
The two men who had been holding Tony’s arms pushed him to the ground much as they had done with Peter. He watched as Tony landed on his side, face pointed at Peter. One of them pressed his boot against Tony’s neck too.
“You have little Petey here to thank for that,” War Dog said. “I wasn’t going to ruin the merchandise but you’re being awfully mouthy for someone who is not in the position to play games. If you didn’t notice, Tony, I’ve got the life of this useless little pest in my hands now. If you even have a tiny, tiny, microscope bit of care towards him, I’d shut the fuck up now.”
Tony didn’t say anything, his face set in a hard glare. War Dog returned the knife to Peter’s throat, pressing in and breaking the skin once more.
War Dog grinned. “I’d like to hear from Peter once more now. Can you repeat yourself? How does all of this make you feel, huh? Did you know Tony was lying to you? Did you have any inkly that this was all fake?”
“N-n-n-n-o,” Peter said in a small voice, overcome with tears and emotions. He could barely get the words out.
“Geez, Tony, I can see why this kid is annoying. Does he always stutter like this?”
“Can’t get him to shut the fuck up half the time,” Tony grumbled. “I’m actually impressed with how little he’s talking. But yeah, stutters constantly, it’s like listening to a skipping CD player.”
War Dog snorted. “Aw, Petey, sounds like you’re a motor mouth. Come on, why don’t you tell Tony that you love him, cuz I can tell that you do. Try and see if you can make Scrooge here actually have a heart.”
Peter wanted to shake his head, but even just the reflex of swallowing was now pushing the sharp blade into his skin over and over again. “I- I love y-you Tony.”
The look on Tony’s face didn’t change. “Yeah, no, sorry kiddo.”
Peter let out another wail of a cry, making War Dog laugh hysterically. “Why don’t you tell Tony exactly why you love him? Maybe that’ll get to his cold dead heart, hm? Let’s get this all out in the open, work through our feelings and all that jazz.”
“Come on,” Tony grunted. “You’re torturing me more than him, at this point.”
“Nah, I think you’re both suffering pretty well here,” War Dog said. “Come on Pete, let’s hear it.”
“I,” Peter choked. “I like..hanging, hanging out with you. You’re always… nice and funny and you make sure I’m comfortable. Y-you protect me and… and..,” Peter dissolved into more tears, unable to even complete his sentence. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t tell the whole room why he loved someone who clearly didn’t care for him like Peter thought he did. War Dog might as well cut his chest open and throw his heart out, that would be far less painful.
War Dog was in hysterics, his hand shaking enough that the knife kept pushing harder and harder into his skin, more blood crept down Peter’s throat. “Put him back down, I think he’s sufficiently broken.”
The knife suddenly pulled away from his neck, leaving behind a stinging pain that went far beyond physical. Peter was slammed back to the ground, the boot returning to the back of his head, putting down more pressure than ever before.
“You’re not going to let him go, are you?” Tony said. “Because I really can’t stand the crying right now. He’s just going to get worse and I’ve got a major headache.”
“Nope,” War Dog said in a sing-song tone. “I’m enjoying having little Petey pie here with us today.”
A commotion happened and Peter could hear additional footsteps coming over and then War Dog was making a cooing sound. “I think our ransom money is about to come to us, boys.”
Tears and snot covered Peter’s face, running over his mouth and down to the ground. He tried to calm himself down, hoping this meant he’d be released soon and could run and hide somewhere far, far, away. He didn’t think he could look at Tony again after this. He had no idea how to mend their relationship, now it was shattered into a million pieces.
War Dog was talking to someone on the phone, Peter had no idea who it was, nor did he try to pay attention to anything that was said. It wasn’t until he was being yanked up again, did he come back into the conversation.
Kneeling to get in Peter’s face, War Dog held the phone slightly aloft. “Someone must care about you kid because they won’t send over the money until they’ve heard from you. Don’t say or do anything stupid, got me?”
Before he could respond the phone was shoved to his ear and he let out a feeble. “Hello?”
“Hey, Pete,” Rhodey’s strong and sure voice came on the other end. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” he answered in a hiccup sound, trying to hold back his tears.
“Okay kiddo,” he said and then in a very low voice, one he knew was only meant for him, said. “We’re going to transfer money over, then set off some smoke bombs before the extraction team gets in. Stay low, close your eyes, Tony knows what to do.”
“O-okay,” Peter answered, not sure if he should but it didn't matter the phone was yanked from his ear and War Dog went back to talking on it. The only good thing was his face wasn’t slammed to the floor again and now he could actually see what was happening.
Tony was back in the same position, kneeling with his hands tied behind his back. For a second he caught Peter’s eye, but his face remained stony and neutral. Peter wanted nothing more than to see a reassuring smile, a light in Tony’s eyes, happiness, something, anything other than stony resolve and annoyance. He almost opened his mouth to beg, but was scared of what would happen if he tried.
War Dog tossed the phone to someone. “Alright gents, it looks like the show’s about to start. In a few minutes, a certain Colonel Rhodes will be transferring our funds shortly, and then, sadly, our wonderful time together has come to an end. I’m sure you’ll both come away from this with a few valuable lessons, right?”
He looked at both of them, but neither answered. A second later the phone dinged and the guy holding it said. “Money is in, boss.”
Peter heard the odd hissing sound before anything even happened. It sounded like a slowly diffusing balloon, and he did what Colonel Rhodes had told him, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to remain as still as possible. It seemed some of the room realized what was going on, shouting erupted around them, Peter wished he could have closed his hands over his ears.
When the man holding his hair let go, Peter pitched himself forward falling back onto the ground, just as the room exploded with smoke. Half expecting it to be warm, Peter was surprised by a cool rush of air falling over him. The smell and taste, however, were far from pleasant, sulfuric, and sharp, making his already crying eyes water and sting. Some of it got into his mouth and he spit out as much as he could, saliva now adding to the gross mix on his face.
Trying to stay as still as possible, a fight was breaking out around him, more voices added to the mix, the slamming of bodies to the ground, and on more than one occasion the sound of gunshots ringing throughout the diner. The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than 10 minutes, but to Peter, it felt like a lifetime had passed.
When a hand grabbed onto his arm, he flinched away, trying to roll over but the hand persisted. The ringing in his ears made it hard to focus on sounds but he knew his name was being said, not in the mean mocking way of War Dog but instead in a meaningful and urgent voice.
“Pete,” Tony’s voice said, cutting through the chaos around him. Hands were traveling down to his wrists before he felt the rope loosening, being pulled from around his wrists. Still, he didn’t get up and didn't want to come face to face with Tony, not yet.
“Come on, Pete, are you okay?” Tony said, more urgently. More people came rushing in, more shouting, more chaos. “It’s over, kid. It’s over, okay? Everyone’s taken care of, I just need to, come on.”
Whimpering, Peter finally moved his arms from behind his back, his shoulder and wrists aching in pain. Pushing himself up from the floor, he was immediately pulled into Tony’s arms, the man’s hands rubbing his back as he pulled Peter in close. The smoke was lifting but Peter’s senses were still overwhelming with sulfur, he tried taking in a deep breath but gagged at the taste in his mouth, his nose stuffed up from all the tears. Each break he took was an intake of the smell and taste, watering his eyes even more.
“I’ve got you,” Tony cooed to him, his voice a 360 from how it sounded spewing out all of those horrible things. “I’m so sorry, Pete. I’m so sorry I had to say those things about you. I don’t mean them, I don’t mean any of them. You have to know how much I love you kid. I just couldn’t risk those assholes knowing and hurting you. It was all pretend, Pete, it was all pretending. I love you so much, Peter Parker. Please believe me.”
Wanting to believe him, Peter finally wrapped his arms around Tony, crying openly into the man’s shoulders. He wanted to believe him, a part of him needed to believe what he was being told now. That all of those words were empty, meaningless words meant to protect and save Peter. But it was hard to think that now too, hearing the things he’d long feared being out in the open, how easily they came from Tony without a moment’s hesitation. That had to mean something right? How could he ignore that? How could he pretend those things were never said.
“Come on,” Tony said into his ear, kissing the side of his head over and over. “Come on, baby, we’ve gotta get up now, we’ll go get ourselves checked out by the medics.” Tony’s hand came up and pressed against the still bleeding cut on Peter’s neck. “Anything hurt? Do you think you can get up?”
Wordlessly, Peter nodded his head, allowing Tony to let him to his feet. “If you need to keep your eyes closed, it’s okay, I’ll guide you.”
Tony was right, the sulfur and smoke burned Peter’s vision. Letting some trust slip through, he closed his eyes, allowing Tony to guide him out into the bright lights of the mid afternoon.