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Peter is startled awake as the walls around him begin to rumble.
He clings tighter in his spot on the ceiling as the room shakes. Dust falls from in between the stone bricks and after a few seconds, the rumbling stops. The base of his neck tingles, his sixth sense going haywire. Something is happening. Something is wrong.
Nothing happens for several long minutes. At some point Peter strains his hearing beyond the small cell and can make out the sounds of guns firing, men shouting, the crashing and banging of bodies being thrown against a wall. There’s a fight going on. Someone’s raiding the base.
But who would fight against Hydra?
Are they coming for Peter?
The thought terrifies him. Nobody ever wants good things from him. So Peter stays where he is, huddled in the corner of his cell. He considers for a moment to reinforce his web, but decides against it. Using his spinnerets is painful, so he’d rather save his webs in the case he has to defend himself.
He hopes it doesn’t come to that.
Peter doesn’t know how much time passes. He can’t hear the battle anymore. But what feels like eternity and a few seconds all at once, his spider sense spikes, and the sound of footsteps reaches his ears.
Peter stifles a gasp as he presses himself into the corner, his back bumping into the wall. The footsteps sound off, like the person has metal for feet. There’s also a slight whirring sound as they move. Is it a robot?
The metallic footsteps stop every now and then, usually followed by a high pitched whining and the sound of a door banging open.
They’re looking for Peter. Oh god, they’re looking for him. They have to be.
The footsteps come steadily closer. Peter can make out a male voice.
“Alright, Cap, everything seems to be clear here. Just got a couple more rooms to check then I’m out.”
Metal doors bang against the walls. The footsteps come closer. Peter can now hear an irregular heartbeat, mixing with his own frightened one.
One more bang, this one louder than the rest ( too close, too close) . There is a pause for several moments, and Peter knows that they’ve found the hallway where his cell is located.
“Found a creepy hallway,” the person says. “There’s another door. I’m gonna check it out.”
The footsteps get closer, closer, closer. The tingle in his neck becomes painful, his hair standing on end. The person stops just outside his door.
The high pitched whining, and then a BANG! that makes Peter flinch. The door stays in place, but a sizable dent caves inward.
The person on the other side hums. “Reinforced door. Long, creepy hallway. Must be hiding something important.”
Another whine and a blast. Peter shields his head as the door flies off the wall, landing on the floor with a clang!
A red and gold robot (? can’t be a robot. Person inside a robot? Suit of armor) steps into the room, hands raised. The white eye slits scan the room before drifting up to his corner. Peter’s sense screams, and the person goes still as they continue to stare.
The suit tilts their head. “Huh.” Then the face retracts, Peter jumping as the gold plating falls away to reveal a human face. A man with a goatee and dark eyes that look up at him with surprise and bewilderment. Like Peter is a particularly hard puzzle that needs to be solved.
Peter doesn’t like that look.
The man regards him for a moment longer. “How are you up there?” he asks, seeming genuinely surprised. He must not be used to dealing with mutants like him.
His neck prickles. The man goes to take a step forward, but Peter throws his arm forward before he can, his web sticking the metal feet to the floor. The man looks down at it, dumbfounded.
Peter shifts, rubbing at his sore wrist as he eyes the man warily, waiting for his next move. Will he try to shoot at him? There are circular lights on his palms, are they weapons?
The man looks back up at him, blinking. A low growl rumbles at the back of his throat, and Peter narrows his eyes into a glare. He hopes the man can't hear his rapidly beating heart.
Eyebrows shooting up in surprise, the man raises his hands in surrender. “Ok, message received.”
Peter stops growling, his tongue brushing against his fangs nervously.
A muffled voice speaks up, coming from what sounds like an intercom. “Tony? Status report.”
Peter’s hackles rise. There’s more of them! The man’s face twitches, and he never looks away from Peter as he answers the voice in a serious tone. “There’s a kid here.”
There’s an uproar of shocked voices, all asking a bunch of questions. Peter can’t tell how many more people there are. Four? Five? The voice from before speaks the loudest, sounding like the leader. “What do you mean there’s a kid?!”
“What it says on the tin, Cap,” the man sighs, suddenly looking tired. “Teenager, might be younger. Fairly certain he’s enhanced, cause he’s sticking to the ceiling like something out of a horror movie.”
More unintelligible questions. Peter can just make out “What would Hydra want with a kid?”
“Where are you, Tony?” ‘Cap’ says. “Rhodey and I can come to you.”
‘Tony’ appears alarmed at that. “No! No, no need. I got this handled.”
He’s watching Peter carefully, gauging his reaction.
Peter glares back.
There’s a pause on the other end. “Are you sure?”
Tony lets out a breath of what appears to be relief. “Positive,” he answers. Then, “FRIDAY, turn off coms.”
Shouts of protest are cut off, and the room goes silent save for the sound of heartbeats.
A short lived smile that doesn’t reach his eyes crosses the man’s face. “Those were my colleagues,” he says with a shrug. “They’ll be keeping their distance. Didn’t think you’d appreciate the extra company, so it’s just you and me.”
Peter frowns with suspicion. What is this guy trying to do?
Tony must love hearing the sound of his own voice, because he keeps talking. “Sooo what are you supposed to be?” He eyes the string of webs Peter is leaning against, gaze flicking down to the webs at his feet before travelling back up. “Some sort of spider…ling? Spider boy?”
Peter’s sixth sense is a low hum at the back of his neck. This Tony guy doesn’t seem to have any interest in attacking him. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to let his guard down. Peter risks a glance to the open doorway behind the metal man. He wonders if he could get out.
He could actually get out, he realises. Peter has spent his whole life in this cell, leaving only when he’d be taken to the lab for testing. What else is out there? What is the world like without four stone walls and a ceiling? The thought excites him just as much as it terrifies him.
Tony seems to notice where he’s staring. “You wanna get out?” he asks, voice a tad softer than before. A sad look appears in his eyes that makes Peter bristle. “Yeah, I can get you out,” Tony says. “You have to get me out of this stuff first, though.” He tugs at his webbed up feet for emphasis.
Peter’s muscles tense at the movement. He scuttles back, letting out a hiss and baring his teeth to show his fangs.
Tony startles, but it quickly melts away into amusement. “Yes, you’re very scary,” he says with a grin. He's making fun of him, though not in a mean way. But a moment later it falls away, his face becoming more serious, sincere. “It’s alright, kid,” he says. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
Peter doesn’t believe that for a second.
The man regards him for a moment longer, that sincere and almost gentle look never leaving. “I can’t keep calling you ‘kid,’” he muses. He tilts his head. “You have a name?”
Peter just stares at Tony mistrustfully. Tony stares back. Peter only realises that the man is actually expecting an answer from him when he continues in a worried tone. “You do have a name, right? Unless…” He trails off, something angry flashing across his face. “Damn those bastards, how long have they kept you here? Hell, do you even understand me-?”
“I do,” Peter says. He shrinks away slightly as surprised eyes snap to him, clearing his throat anxiously. “Understand, I mean.” Peter’s voice is rough from misuse, and his throat aches, not used to making sounds other than hisses and growls. His voice sounds a bit different than when he last spoke, as well. Cracked and hoarse, yes, and a bit deeper, lacking the youth it once had. Peter doesn’t dwell on it.
A relieved smile appears on Tony’s face. “That’s good,” he says. “So, you wanna answer my first question then?”
Peter’s mouth shuts with an audible click. He ducks his head, staring at the man defiantly. Why does it matter if he knows his name? It’s not like he’d care to use it. Names don’t mean anything down here.
But Tony barrels on anyway. “No? C’mon, you gotta gimme something?” When Peter doesn’t answer he continues. “Well, I guess I’ll start then.” He spreads his arms in a flourish and plasters a charming grin on his face. “Tony Stark. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”
Peter gives him a weird look. Tony sees his mistake a moment later, expression turning part guilty, part disturbed. “You haven’t heard of me. Jeez, kid, how long have you been here?”
“My whole life,” Peter mutters, mostly to himself. Why did Tony expect him to know who he is? Is he someone important or something?
“Your whole life.” That sad look is back, more intense than ever. Peter’s starting to hate that look. Tony is silent for a moment. “And how long is that, kid?”
Well, Peter hasn’t been here his whole life. He knows he must have had a life before all of this, before the tests and experiments, before that fateful spider bite. Memories of loving words and soft lullabies are just out of his grasp, mere echoes of what he once knew. No, he hasn’t been here his whole life. But he’s been here long enough to learn that his past no longer matters.
Tony is clearly asking for his age, though. Something else that doesn’t matter down here. Though he tried to hold onto it for a while, at some point he lost track. Peter frowns in thought, forgetting to be cautious as he answers. “Um… twelve…?” No, that can’t be right. He must be older. Fourteen?
Tony lets out a muttered curse, looking down at the ground as he takes a breath.
Peter’s frown deepens. Was that the wrong answer? He curls into himself. “Sorry,” he whispers.
Tony looks up at him in alarm and devastation, and no one has ever looked at Peter like that. He doesn’t know how to feel. “No, kid. Don’t apologise. I- Fuck!” He moves as if about to turn away, but the webbing still stuck to his feet prevents him. Peter shifts warily. “I’m not cut out for this,” Tony murmurs, voice so quiet that if it weren’t for his heightened senses Peter wouldn't have heard it. The man’s intense and determined gaze falls back on him. “Alright, I’m gonna get you outta here, kid. Ok? We’re gonna leave this hell hole, I’m gonna take you to the Compound in New York, you’re gonna love it. You can meet the rest of the team if you’re up for it. I’m sure they’ll love you.”
Peter listens as the man rambles. He has no idea what New York is, but he finds himself captivated by Tony’s words, a deep longing overcoming him. The urge to escape, to live a different life. The urge to be…
Free. Huh. What a strange concept.
He knows he should be careful, shouldn’t trust anything this man says. What if he turns out just as bad as the people in white, what if this is just a trick to get him to comply, just to turn around and strap him to a table and stab a needle in his neck.
Peter shouldn’t trust him.
But he’s tired.
He focuses on the familiar tingle at the back of his neck, only to find that he can’t feel it. For the first time since he gained these new powers, since he became a freak, his sixth sense is completely silent.
He makes a decision.
“Peter.”
Tony’s next sentence is cut off, and he blinks in surprise. “Huh?”
Peter fiddles with a strand of webbing as he averts his gaze, suddenly feeling shy. “My name,” he clarifies. “‘S Peter.”
A soft look falls across Tony’s face, and he smiles. “Peter,” he repeats, voice full of gentleness, and it feels so weird to hear someone else say his name. But… a good weird, he thinks.
Emboldened, Peter slowly lowers himself on a strand of his web. Tony watches him with careful anticipation as the boy twists around so that he can sit on the floor across from him, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap. But Peter doesn’t let himself relax all the way, shoulders tense and fists clenched. He keeps a hand on the strand of webbing, ready to climb back up at a moment's notice.
Tony must notice this, because he stays very still, his expression remaining open and gentle.
Peter glances down at the webbing around Tony’s feet. “I can help you with that,” he says, but he makes no move to do so. Not until he’s sure Tony won’t try anything.
The man seems to read his mind, because he reassures him. “I won’t hurt you, Peter,” he says.
Peter knows better than to blindly trust what someone tells him. They can say one thing, fill his head with empty promises only to turn around and rip it all away. But maybe it’s the way Tony says his name with such honesty and sincerity, the gentleness in his tone that makes it hard to believe he’s lying. His spider sense remains blissfully silent, so Peter decides to be brave.
Peter shifts into a crouch, then slowly, timidly, he crawls forward, closer and closer, until he is just out of arm’s reach of the man. He pauses for a moment, eyeing Tony warily, before he closes the gap and he is at the man’s feet.
He stays still, not doing anything for a moment, muscles tense and ready to pounce away should the other try anything. But Tony just watches him patiently, and his metal arms stay plastered to his sides. When Peter meets his gaze, the man offers a smile. He’s not doing anything. Not wanting to stay any longer than he has to, Peter quickly and effectively swipes the webbing off of the metal boots, wiping the residue on his shorts, before scuttling back out of reach. He doesn’t go back to his corner, though, surprising himself. Peter stays crouched on the ground, watching Tony curiously.
Tony shuffles his feet, testing his new freedom. The man can move now, and was it a bad idea to unstick him? But Tony doesn’t make any move to approach him, at least not yet. “That stuff’s pretty strong, kid,” he says instead, a look of vague interest crossing his face. “Does it come out of you? Or, how does it work?”
Peter’s expression darkens, shifting backwards with a snarl pulling at his lips.
“Or you don’t have to answer that!” Tony says quickly, eyes wide with alarm as he takes a step back, though not out of fear, he doesn’t think. “That’s fine. Touchy subject.” He sniffs in a show of nonchalance, but Peter sees through the act. “We all have those.”
It’s obvious he’s trying not to upset Peter further, and that confuses him. The people in white never cared what he thought, what he felt. They never talked to him or asked for his opinion. They just expected him to comply, and if he didn’t he was punished. Such is his life. Peter isn’t human, and so he isn't treated like one.
But why does Tony insist otherwise?
Tony lets out a sigh. “Look, kid, I know you’re not exactly my biggest fan right now, but we can’t stay in here forever,” he says. “Time’s running out, and I refuse to leave a kid in here to fend for himself. So you gotta trust me.”
Peter shuffles back a step, a small frown on his face. Despite himself, he speaks up. “Why?”
Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help me? Why are you trying so hard?
Why do you care?
Tony looks at him, opens his mouth, closes it. He seems to think for a moment.
Then there is a small hissing as the suit retracts, allowing him to step out.
Peter jumps back in shock. It could do that this whole time?!
Without the suit, Tony looks… like a very normal guy, wearing a grey long sleeve with some sort of print on it and dark jeans and shoes. Tony, slowly as to not startle Peter anymore, lowers himself into a crouch, bringing himself to Peter’s level.
He’s also a lot more vulnerable, without his suit. He either isn’t aware of the danger Peter can inflict, or he doesn’t care.
Tony waits until Peter makes bewildered eye contact before he answers. “Because you don’t deserve any of this,” he says. He gestures around the cell. “No one should be living like this. I have no idea what you’ve been through, what they’ve done to you, but you didn’t deserve any of it, kid. I can assure you that much.” His gaze is sad when he speaks. “You should be able to live a normal life.”
Peter’s eyes begin to sting, and his throat burns. He doesn’t believe this man, he doesn’t. He can’t.
Because if what Tony says is true, if Peter truly didn’t deserve everything that’s been done to him… then his whole miserable life would’ve been for nothing.
And he can’t accept that.
“I don’t believe you,” Peter tells him.
The sad look doesn’t leave, if anything it becomes stronger. “That’s ok,” Tony says. “You don’t have to believe me just yet. But you want to get out of here, right?”
He does. (Please don't leave him here.) Peter nods.
Tony extends a hand towards him, palm facing upwards. “Then trust me.”
Peter looks at his outstretched hand, then back at Tony. The man gives him an encouraging look, but he doesn’t make any move to close the distance. He’s allowing Peter to make the decision.
Peter doesn’t trust anyone. Trust is dangerous.
But he wants to trust Tony.
So he shuffles forward, reaching forward to take Tony’s hand.
But then a shiver runs down his spine. Peter jumps away with a hiss, wide eyes darting towards the doorway.
A second later, hurried footsteps reach his ears.
Someone’s coming! Danger, danger!
Tony looks alarmed and confused. “What’s wrong kid?”
The footsteps come closer, growing louder. Peter clocks the exact moment Tony hears them, because his head whips towards the doorway, standing up as the suit forms around him once again.
He stands in front of Peter, blocking him from the doorway. As if he’s protecting him.
Peter crawls back up to his corner anyway. He’s safer here.
The intruder approaches, coming into view of Tony. Peter can’t see them, but whoever is there has Tony slumping in relief, all tension leaving him. His gauntlets, which had been raised towards the doorway, are lowered back to his sides. “Damn it, Rhodey,” he curses. “I was making progress!”
“We have a situation.” ‘Rhodey’ finally comes into view, a man in a suit similar to Tony’s, sans mask, but instead of red and gold his is black and silver. His gaze immediately lands on Peter, making his spider sense flare. He growls, and Rhodey’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “What the hell?”
“This better be important,” Tony says, crossing his arms. “Cause I was just getting through to the kid before you scared him off.”
Rhodey at least appears apologetic, sparing one last glance at Peter before focusing his attention on Tony. “Hydra’s sending reinforcements,” he says, and the tension in the room skyrockets. “A lot of ‘em. We don’t have much time until they’re upon us.”
“How long?”
“Nat estimates six minutes.”
Tony turns back to Peter, brow creased with urgency and worry. “We gotta go, kid.”
He reaches a hand out again, but Peter stays rooted in place. His gaze lingers on the newcomer warily. His spider sense has calmed down, but it’s still a present thrum in his neck. He could still be a threat.
“Rhodey’s a friend,” Tony says, sensing his reluctance. “He won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Rhodey stays silent, thankfully keeping his distance.
“Peter.” Peter’s eyes meet Tony’s own, seeing nothing but sincerity and patience, despite the urgency of the situation. “I know you’re scared, but… Trust me?”
No, he doesn’t. But this could be his only chance to get out of here.
So Peter takes the leap of faith.
He jumps, pouncing off of the ceiling and towards Tony. The man barely has time to shout in surprise before Peter lands on his chest, thankfully not knocking him over, and he quickly crawls over his shoulder and onto his back, sticking there.
Tony tries to turn around to see him, and Rhodey looks on in vague surprise and amusement. Peter keeps his limbs tucked close and head ducked down.
“Well,” Tony shrugs. “That works.” A small clang that must be the suit’s mask falling into place as he turns to Rhodey. “Let’s go.”
Rhodey’s own mask falls into place with a nod, then he turns and runs down the hallway. Tony follows behind him.
Peter can’t help but look at his surroundings as they move through the hallways. He’s escaping. This is actually happening. He’s seen this hallway before, passed through it many times, but then Tony and Rhodey pass the intersection where the lab is, and a thrum of nervousness passes through him.
This is actually happening.
“You doing ok back there, kid?” Tony asks.
Peter nods, before remembering the man can’t see him. “Mhm.”
Tony must hear his nervousness. “Nearly out kid. Not too long now.”
Rhodey is talking, warning their other teammates about Peter, something about not crowding him, but Peter is barely listening. He hides his face against the metal of Tony’s suit, the unfamiliarity of this part of the base and the situation as a whole making him anxious. He’s never been in this part of the base before. He was never needed here.
He’s actually getting out, he’s getting out.
Peter hopes he was right in trusting them.
They pass through one last doorway, and Peter can’t help the gasp that escapes him. He can see the sky! It’s dark and full of clusters of tiny lights (stars, his mind supplies) and it's so big! The terrain is rocky and uneven, suggesting they’re at the base of a mountain, and there are some trees scattered around (which are so much prettier than Peter remembered!) A fair distance away, hidden in a large cluster of trees is some sort of aircraft. He can hear the rumble of its engine from here.
“There’s our ride, Pete,” Tony says. “Our way home.”
Home.
He’s not familiar with the word, but he hopes it’s as pleasant as it sounds.
Peter allows himself a small smile.