Chapter Text
Nothing was ever Johnny Storm's fault.
Sure, he made mistakes and of course, he wasn't perfect. But really, nothing was ever truly Johnny's fault.
Naturally.
Which brings Johnny to this situation:
He had been invited to a party for A-List celebrities and overall rich people, and obviously, he was going to go. After that party, of course, came the after-party. And Johnny was important enough to be at the after-party, so no way in hell was he gonna miss it.
And now Johnny's trudging his way back to the Baxter Building a day later, reeking of alcohol and sweat and all those good A-List party smells, completely hungover and absolutely ready to crash in his bed for the next week.
He's wearing someone else's jacket, lost one shoe, and has a headache the size of Jupiter, so he'd consider it a successful party.
Johnny opens the door to the penthouse as quietly as he can, hoping he could sneak into his bedroom without any of the adults noticing.
(Hope is a scam.)
The lights turn on, and Sue is standing across the room, arms crossed and a furious expression on her face. She takes in Johnny's state and exhales slowly.
"Nice of you to grace me with your presence, Johnny," she says, "truly, I am beyond honored to know you still care enough to come back home."
Johnny rolls his eyes, closing the door behind him as he walks into the room. "Yeah, sure, Johnny is a very bad little brother. Can we do this after I sleep?"
"Hold on, were you drinking?" Sue begins following after Johnny, grabbing his arm to turn him so they're facing. "Johnny!"
Johnny groans, rubbing at his temple gently. "Yes! I was drinking, because I was at a party and it would've been lame if I didn't! Honestly, I've done worse than drink some stupid alcohol, it shouldn't matter." He pauses for a second, then grins down at his sister. "And I waited until I was sober to drive myself home! Gold star for me!"
Sue glowers at him again. "You didn't answer any calls or texts. I was worried about you, airhead!"
"I posted online! On Instagram and Snapchat!" Johnny hums, as if considering something. "Then my phone died and I didn't have a charger, so obviously that's not my fault. But I can take care of myself, so who cares?"
"I'm— I'm done," Sue states, raising her hands in defeat. "Go to bed, we will talk about this later."
Johnny grins, reaching out to hug Sue. "Aw, you're the best older sister ever!"
Sue shoves him away with a scoff. "You smell like a casino dumpster, I don't want you near me until you take a shower."
He pouts exaggeratedly before shrugging, continuing to make his way to his bedroom. "Whatever you say, Suzie."
Johnny manages to take his jacket and pants off before crashing into bed, easily falling into well-deserved beauty sleep.
Boy, if Johnny fell asleep with a hangover, he must've woken up with a... whatever a good joke for an intense headache is.
He props himself up onto his arms with a groan, rubbing his eyes as the bright light filtering in through his windows makes his head throb worse. Johnny glances over at his clock.
2:46 PM
"Thirteen hours," he murmurs, forcing himself up onto his feet. "That's a record."
Johnny makes his way over to his bathroom, pulling off whatever clothes he had left on before turning on the water to take a shower. Unfortunately for him, Sue had been right about him smelling like Vegas during EDC week, and the hangover made him feel incredibly nauseous.
He steps into the shower with a sigh, letting the warm water pour down on his skin. Johnny lets himself just stand there for a while, allowing the calm after the storm to wash over him, taking the excitement and booze and grime of the party down the drain.
He manages to step out of the shower eventually, going back to his bedroom to change into something more comfortable so he can fall asleep again.
Johnny glances at the clock again.
3:58 PM
"Only an hour in the shower today? Man, I am killing it."
He manages to shove on an old t-shirt and shorts before heading out to the kitchen for some breakfast.
Parties are fun and all, yeah, but it's not like you can ask for cereal in between piña coladas. Johnny knows his limits incredibly well.
He heads over to the table with his items hugged to his chest, placing them down to make himself a bowl of cereal. Milk first, then cereal, because it pisses Sue off to no end.
Johnny's hangover is still at the point where everything is super gross and he wants to die a little, but he's not about to puke up his Fruity Pebbles, so he powers through the nausea.
He's a few spoonfuls into his bowl when Reed and Sue walk out into the kitchen, talking quietly amongst themselves until they spot Johnny. It seems like the sight of him makes them freeze where they stand, and it honestly makes Johnny a little uncomfortable.
"What's up?" Johnny asks, staring back at the two. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Reed looks over at Sue expectantly. "Your brother," he reminds softly, as if too scared to say whatever he wants to say.
Sue rolls her eyes. "Of course." She looks at Johnny, crossing her arms as she speaks. "We're sick and tired of your behavior, and frankly, you've lost touch with reality, so we're going to send you back to school."
Johnny snorts, rolling his eyes as he continues to eat his cereal. "Good one, I almost laughed."
"It's not a joke, Johnny," Reed adds, "you're still a kid. The best thing for you might be going to school with others your age."
If Reed says something's gonna happen, then that means... it probably will.
There's a long silence before Johnny can muster up enough brain power to spit something out.
" ...You're kidding."
Sue shoots her younger brother the same icy glare he was giving her. "No, Johnny," she starts, "Reed and I were talking—"
"Mostly Sue," Reed interjects.
She turns to glare at her husband too. "We were talking, and we decided that the best thing for you might be going back to school. So whether you like it or not, you're going to school next Monday."
Johnny splutters, standing up and walking over to them indignantly. "You can't do that! I can't just go back to school just like that!"
Sue shrugs. "Why not?"
"Because I'm Johnny Storm! I save people and can light myself on fire, and I'm a superhero that parties with other famous people!" Johnny exclaims, "I can't go to high school!"
"Well, maybe you just need to be brought back to Earth, Johnny," Sue states, "because you're still only a kid."
Johnny gapes at his sister for a moment before turning over to Reed with an exasperated expression. "You're not gonna let her do that, are you? You're the leader, put your foot down!"
Reed holds his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. "You know what... I'm not touching this one with a fifty foot pole." He begins walking away slowly, arms still raised. "I'm going to stay out of it. Not my circus, not my monkeys."
"You can't leave me here, coward!"
Sue snaps her fingers in Johnny's face. "Hey, all you've got left is me, and I'm all you're gonna get!" she begins, "I'm your judge, the jury, and executioner, what I say goes, and I say you're going to school!"
Johnny stares at Sue for a second and then screams.
Peter Parker was also having a terrible day, but for other reasons.
The cafeteria was all out of pizza by the time he got around to eating lunch, he fell into a puddle (got pushed by Flash) and skinned his knee, and Happy couldn't pick him up after school because Morgan needed to be picked up first.
(He doesn't mind Morgan taking priority, actually. Peter would do anything for her, even if it meant riding the subway and walking to the tower with an achy knee.)
So, Peter walked back home to the tower the rest of the way, already planning his afternoon out.
He'd call Aunt May, see how her Nonno was doing back in Italy, do his homework for a bit, then spend the rest of the evening on patrol.
Bad day turned good.
Simple enough, right?
Wrong.
He's made his way from the subway to the tower and begun walking through the underground garage, when Peter feels unease sink into his stomach at the silence of the garage. Something wasn't right, and he couldn't quite figure out what it was yet.
"FRIDAY, I'm, uh... I'm home from school," he calls out, "how have you been?"
FRIDAY doesn't reply.
Maybe she doesn't reach all the way down here?
No, that's stupid. She's FRIDAY, she can do everything.
"FRI, are you okay? Connect me to—"
And that's when he feels it.
This horrible, cold feeling running through his body, drowning his head in this underwater fuzzy feeling where everything's cloudy yet unbearably sharp that confirms Peter's suspicions.
Danger.
"Well, well, well. What have we here?"
Peter turns his head slowly, looking to the side where the voice came from. He sees a group of four men in all black, faces covered by ski masks.
Had Peter been dressed as Spider-Man, he probably would've laughed and cracked a few jokes about stereotypes and whatnot.
But he wasn't Spider-Man. He was just Peter.
Peter watches them get closer to him for a second, frozen like a deer in headlights before his brain catches up again and he does the only thing he can think of.
He begins sprinting toward the elevator.
"FRIDAY! FRIDAY, can you hear me?! I need help, I need you to help m—"
He's knocked down suddenly as one of the men tackles him to the floor, screaming and squirming and doing everything a normal kid could manage as to protect his identity as Spider-Man.
"Get off of me! Get away!"
Peter's plucked off the floor and held tightly against the man's chest, chest heaving with adrenaline as he tries to kick himself free.
One of the men, perhaps the one in charge, walks forward to examine Peter closely.
"That was easier than I thought it'd be. I assumed Stark woulda given his kids at least a bodyguard or something to keep themselves safe, eh?"
Are you freaking kidding me? All this for stupid ransom money?!
One of the other men hums and checks his watch.
"The girl should be coming home soon. We just shoot the bodyguard and take 'em both."
Peter feels his blood run cold again, this time with anger.
It was one thing for them to attack him, but Morgan?
Absolutely not.
No one lays a finger on Morgan.
"You leave her alone!" Peter yells, straining in the man's hold. "I swear to God if you even think about—"
"Shut up!" The man clamps his hand over Peter's mouth, squeezing his face almost to the point of it being painful.
Peter panics and jerks away as best he can, only to see the man's hand following his face.
Bite him.
Where did that come from?
Survival instincts, probably.
Peter bites down on the man's fingers until he hears a sick crack, a warm copper taste filling his mouth.
"Ow, you asshole kid!"
He's dropped back onto the floor immediately and scrambles away from the men, trying to not puke as he realizes someone else's blood is in his mouth. Peter sprints as fast as he can, then hides behind a car as he pulls out his phone.
Okay, okay, think. If they cut off FRIDAY then it's not safe to call Tony. I can't call Happy, because he's picking Morgan up from school. Who else can I call?
Peter strains his brain for a second before an idea pops into his head, and he begins to dial a number.
"What's up, kid?"
Peter inhales shakily, glancing around the garage to see if any of the men have found his hiding spot yet. "Natasha, um, I— I need help," he whispers out, "I was walking home to the tower, a-and I got attacked and FRIDAY's not answering me at all. I don't know what to do."
He can hear the noise of movement and other voices in the background.
"Alright, Peter. Where are you right now?"
"The— The garage. The private one under the building. I'm hiding behind a car."
"Stay where you are if you're able to, okay? Did they attack you as Peter or as Spider-Man?"
"Peter," he replies, "there's five of them, but I don't have my suit—" Peter feels panic rising in his chest again, more overwhelming than ever before. "They're trying to get Morgan, too. What if something happens to her? What if Mr. Stark is in trouble right now? I need to—"
"Stay put, Peter," Natasha orders, "Morgan has Happy, and Tony can protect himself just fine. We'll be there in five, alright? Keep yourself on high alert."
"Okay, I can do that, yeah."
Peter inhales shakily as he puts his phone away, glancing back into the garage as his senses start blaring again.
He thinks for a moment, considering what he can do to protect himself in a normal-kid-way. He can't punch his way out, that would be too obvious. He can't sneak his way out, he doesn't know if there are any other men hiding around.
He's got his phone, and his backpack, and by the way, his heavy-as-hell history book was not helping at all.
Wait.
Peter shoves his backpack off, taking out his textbook and clenching it between his trembling fingers. He was about to do something he didn't quite like, but he's the little guy right now, so maybe he'll forgive himself for it.
"Hey, I found him! Get back here, you little shit!"
He waits until the man gets closer to him, until his senses are screaming at him, that familiar dangerdangerDANGER BEHIND YOU to stand up, heartbeat drumming harder and harder with every step the man took until he was close enough and—
Peter slams the book across the man's head, just hard enough to not kill him, but the sickening crack of it makes Peter want to hurl his guts out.
The man falls to the ground immediately, too limp for Peter's liking, but it sends that euphoric feeling of safety and holy shit I'm still alive rushing through him all the same.
Thank you, world, for AP American History textbooks.
But because he's Peter Parker, and Peter Parker isn't allowed to be lucky for more than forty seconds, that feeling is replaced by newfound dread once more as the three other men find them.
A look of anger flashes across their faces.
"Stupid kid cracked his skull open!"
Oh, my gosh, please shut the hell up, I'm trying so hard to not vomit right now.
Peter takes a tentative step back as the men begin walking toward him, then throws his textbook at them before booking it again.
And then Parker Luck strikes again because this time Peter isn't fast enough to outrun them a second time.
He's grabbed by his arm and is tightly pinned to one of the men's chest, one of the others holding his legs tightly to prevent Peter from kicking or running away once more.
"No! Get off of me!" Peter struggles and squirms, trying to free himself. "Leave me alone!"
And honestly, it makes Peter panic ten times worse, and he's already starting to consider just risking it and using his powers. He's debating it in his head as a new voice speaks up, snapping him out of his distraught haze.
"I'd suggest you put the kid down, boys."
Natasha's voice comes through like an angel from heaven.
It appears as if the men know of Natasha's threat level because they look between each other to assess what to do next.
Then, stupidly, one of them walks over to Natasha, leaving Peter still in the clutches of the other two. He puts his hands on his hips and scoffs.
"This doesn't have anything to do with you. I think you'd like to leave right now before things get ugly."
The woman smiles at him. "I think I'd like to stay. And if there's even one scratch on him, it's not gonna end well for any of you." Natasha's smile drops in a threatening manner.
The man signals for the other two to get ready for a fight, pulling out a blade from his pocket.
"I don't like having to repeat myself," Natasha states, "so I won't."
Peter takes this as a sign to close his eyes. He's seen Natasha in action, and it makes him wake up every day thankful that he's not someone on Natasha's bad side.
After he's let go so the other men could join the fight, he hears hitting, punching, all those fighting sounds that indicate that Natasha is indeed winning, eyes still shut tightly. As cool as Natasha fighting three men and winning is, Peter doesn't want to see any of that, he's already freaked out enough.
"You can open your eyes, Peter."
Peter opens one eye awkwardly, letting out a relieved sigh as he sees Natasha in front of him. "Thank God," he says, both eyes opening fully. "I thought I was toast for a moment."
"You called. I would never let you down, kid."
Peter nods. "Yeah, that's true." He turns his head slightly toward where the fighting took place, a noise of confusion leaving him as Natasha pushes his face back toward her.
"You don't want to see that," Natasha states, and the atmosphere around them changes to one of seriousness.
Natasha examines Peter closely, looking him over carefully.
"What'd they do to you? Any cuts, bruises, scrapes, weird drugs, or something?"
Peter shakes his head. "No, um, I'm— I'm fine. I'm okay, they didn't do anything to me." He bites down on his lip harshly and lowers his gaze. "I just got a bit scared, but that's... stupid. I could've protected myself if I wanted to."
The woman sighs softly, bringing Peter into a gentle hug.
"You're allowed to be scared, Peter. No matter who you are or how old you are, you're allowed to feel fear."
Peter leans into the hug slightly, forcing more than a few tears back. "Yeah, I... I'm okay. Everything's okay."
Cry later. There are more important things to focus on right now, like Tony. Put this in the vault for a moment, alright?
Natasha's comm scratches to life.
"Nat, it's Steve. Sam said the rest of the tower is safe, Tony's in his lab and he's fine."
Steve's voice comes through in a static-sounding way that's completely unlike anything Stark tech would ever— could ever— sound like. Whatever happened to FRIDAY must've affected the entire tower's signal.
Natasha raises her wrist to her mouth, where her comm is. "Peter's fine. I took the three others down, I'd suggest calling someone to get them out of here before they wake up."
Peter can hear Tony's voice faintly through the comm.
"They're the lucky ones. The one up here caught me off-guard, didn't end so w—"
"Little ears are listening, Tony," Natasha warns, "we're heading up to the lab."
Peter's in some sort of haze as he lets Natasha lead him to the elevator. His senses are in overdrive as they try to search for danger and it renders him useless, he just feels like he's stuck underwater as his body overcompensates trying to keep him safe.
He hardly notices Sam getting into the elevator with them later on, and he misses the concerned look the two shoot each other as Natasha has to push him out of the elevator when they reach Tony's lab.
FRIDAY doesn't greet them or open the door and it only adds to that uncanny feeling Peter's already feeling.
Sam opens the door and they walk inside, and Peter suddenly feels as if he got a gallon of ice water poured on him as he takes in the sight in front of him.
Tony, one gauntlet on his hand, looking down at a man's body as he talks to Steve. There's a gash on his forehead, bleeding at a level just slightly short of concerning.
And Peter just freezes, because he's seen this before.
He's been in this situation before, where he's scared and selfish and refuses to use his powers, and had it not been for Tony's ability to protect himself, he would've ended up just like—
"Oh, thank the Lord, Peter!"
Peter snaps out of his haze, realizing he's been staring down at the body when Tony's shaky voice breaks him out of the infinite buzz of past memories.
He looks up at Tony, eyes darting back at the corpse for a second before going back to the man.
"I..." Peter swallows harshly, taking a slow step back, eyes now back on the body. "I, um, I—"
Tony seems confused by his reaction and follows Peter's gaze, eyes clouded with worry.
"Someone cover that, for the kid's sake. Get it out of here."
He looks back at Peter, getting close enough to wrap his arms around Peter tightly, burying Peter's face into his chest so he can't see the body on the ground. "Did they hurt you, Bambi? What happened? Are you alright?"
And that's all it takes for Peter to break, apparently.
He goes weak in Tony's hold, tears coming out in tiny sniffles before turning into sobs and forced inhales. Peter's hands grab at the familiar worn-out cotton fabric at the back of the man's shirt, forcing himself closer to Tony, as if he could somehow merge with him.
As if he could permanently stay in the Peter-shaped hold of Tony's arms if he tried hard enough.
"Oh, Peter..."
Tony's arms hold onto him tighter, one of his hands reaching up to stroke through the mess of curls at the back of Peter's head.
There's more conversation, more talking between Tony and Natasha and Steve and Sam, but Peter can't manage to focus on the words as he just keeps fucking crying in Tony's arms. Peter can hear whispers of just scared and didn't know he was between his sobbing, but that's about it.
"You don't seem to get it."
"It was just a security breach, Tony. They happen all the time."
Peter feels Tony's arms tighten around him further.
"It's not about the goddamn security breach, don't you get it?" Tony spits out, "FRIDAY was shut off without my knowledge. They knew what time Peter got out of school. They knew Morgan would be arriving with Happy."
The words weigh the room down with unbearable tension.
"It's not about whatever the hell you think it's about. My children were compromised. My children were put in danger. I couldn't give less of a shit about this entire fucking tower, alright? If it's not safe for my kids, then I'm not risking it by keeping them here."
Peter's still too busy crying to even try and figure out what the hell Tony was talking about.
He manages to connect some dots through the tears like Morgan is safe and good parenting skills, but Peter's mind is still weighed down by that unbearable pain and guilt because for the second time ever, he knows he could've done more. He's got all these stupid powers and for what?
Because if Peter can't even protect himself, how is he supposed to protect others? What does it matter if he's Spider-Man if he's nothing but a scared kid first?