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The California sun was high in the sky when Peter stepped out of the car into the Malibu breeze. Tony had a conference to attend in Los Angeles for Stark Industries and invited the teen along.
“No one’ll believe your intern cover story if you never actually go to any Stark Industries conferences,” Tony had told him. “Plus, Happy’s staying in New York with Pep. I’ll need someone to make traveling less insufferable.”
Peter didn’t care about the reason, he was just thankful to be invited. He hadn’t been to California since Ben took him and May on a road trip years ago. He’d definitely never been to Malibu, that was for sure. The sight from the top of the beachside cliff was of breathtaking blue waves softly crashing against a pale sandy shore. A cyan faded lifeguard tower sat in the midst of the narrow shore, and various flowers and bushes grew along the rocky outcrop.
Tony hopped out of the Audi and came around the car, putting an arm around Peter.
“What do you think?”
“This is where your house used to be?” Peter stared at the grove of flowers and trails that now stood in the place of the once grand foundations of a billion-dollar home.
“Yep. But I couldn’t part with a bicoastal property. I let this grow over, made it a nature reserve, but bought a smaller place down the street.” He shrugged. “Liked the area but didn’t want to rebuild. Plus, I’m not here as much. Only come for the occasional conference or meeting.” Tony patted him on the shoulder, then headed off, leading the way down the street with his bag in hand. Peter followed closely behind, suitcase trailing.
They came to a stop in front of a massive house, hardly less impressive. It was smaller than the last one, but still larger than any house Peter had been in.
“Here we are.” Tony approached the intricate front door and unlocked it. “I gotta make a call, run some things by Pep, but feel free to walk around and settle in. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, check out the beach trail, whatever you want, kid. No plans until the conference tomorrow.”
“Awesome,” Peter said quietly as he stepped inside after Tony, taking in the beautiful property. The interior was equally as impressive as the exterior. “Which room’s mine?”
Already heading for another room, Tony paused and moved his phone away from his ear to respond. “Any room down that hall. They’re all guest rooms.” And with that, Tony walked into another room to continue his business call.
Peter walked down the hall and poked his head into each room. Each was incredible, but he settled on the smallest because he felt a bit out of place in something so grand. Still, the room he chose was three times the size of his room back in Queens.
He set his suitcase down and threw himself down onto the bed, letting himself sink into the soft mattress as he let out a long breath, taking in the California sun rays that seeped through the glass door in the room.
Yes, glass door. His room had a balcony as well, with the perfect view of the coast.
Tempted by the view of the oncoming sunset, Peter pulled himself up from the plush bed and headed for the balcony. He stepped out into the salt air and took in a deep breath. The air here was much crisper than in Queens. It lacked the ever-lingering scent of nicotine.
He stared down the cliffside at the beach and spotted a VW bus in the parking lot. It looked like a scene out of a movie. A young woman lay down in the back on top of a pile of bright colorful blankets. The back of the VW bus was open, facing the ocean. There weren’t many other cars in the narrow parking lot besides hers.
Then Peter’s attention drifted to a beaten-down Ford a few spaces away. It looked like it used to be a police car, and it wore dings and dents like battle scars. The driver’s side door swung open, and a man staggered out in a dark hoodie, despite the warm day. Peter leaned over the railing to get a closer look, and that was when he noticed the man flick something out of his hoodie pocket.
A switchblade.
Without thinking, Peter jumped over the railing of the balcony, flipping down and landing two stories below in Tony’s backyard. He ran past the pool and reclining chairs, leaping over the fence. He skidded down the cliffside, kicking up rocks and dirt as he went. He barreled down the steep incline sloppily, barely missing stray stones that wanted to trip him, dodging bushes and shrubbery. He stayed focused, intent on making it to the VW bus in time.
As soon as Peter made it to the bottom of the cliffside, he realized that he wasn’t in his suit and that he didn’t even have his web shooters. He still had his strength and agility, though, and his determination to save that girl.
The man in the dark hoodie approached the van from the front, the girl completely clueless from where she lay in the back, reclining on pillows and taking in the ocean breeze from behind her shades. He flicked open the blade, ready to attack.
Peter ran around the van from the other side, cutting off the man at the trunk. The two came to a stand-off by the bumper. The girl sat up, afraid, noticing the knife. She screamed in panic and curled up against the seat, trying to get as far away from the violence as possible.
“Seriously, dude? Ruining a perfect sunset?” Peter said, grabbing the man by the arm that held the knife, twisting it away.
What Peter wasn’t expecting was the girl to think he was a danger, too. Without warning, she took out her pepper spray and fired it at both Peter and the man. They both stumbled back, falling over the cement bumper block, Peter losing his grip on the man’s arm. The girl took that as her cue to escape. She jumped over them as they struggled to get back up, screaming and sprinting as fast as her legs could take her.
Peter felt his spider sense go off, but his vision was too irritated to make out the man’s attack in time. The hooded figure in his blurred vision descended on him. He didn’t see the knife, but he felt it puncture his abdomen, not once, but twice, before he finally caught hold of the man’s wrist again. He twisted it so hard he broke it this time, and the man staggered back, screaming in pain.
Peter sat up, eyes burning, still unable to see clearly. He violently rubbed at his face. He didn’t realize how powerful this stuff really was. When he moved his hands away, he saw another blurry figure hovering over him and instinctively got defensive, swinging at the man and hitting him presumably in the face.
“Woah, woah. Same side, kid,” A familiar voice said. “Sheesh, you pack a mean punch.”
“Mr. Stark? Sorry…” He rubbed at his eyes again, squinting despite the pain to make out the figure in front of him.
Tony kneeled beside him on the ground, and the Pacific Ocean lapped against the sandy shore in the background, serving as white noise. He watched as the man’s expression became darker the longer he looked at him.
“Pete—holy shit—” Tony instinctively reached to suit up, only to remember he didn’t bring his suit with him for the business trip, just his gauntlet watch, which wouldn’t be helpful at that moment. “Shit shit—” Without waiting for a response, he took his suit jacket off and bunched it up, holding it to Peter’s abdomen.
“Is it bad?”
Tony looked at him in shock.
“Can you not feel it?”
“Not really. I mean, I know I was stabbed, but it hasn’t really set in yet.”
“It’s the adrenaline. That’ll wear off soon.” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked, sitting up a little, then wincing, holding the suit jacket to his stomach.
“Calling 911.”
“What? No!” Peter panicked, grabbing Tony by the wrist. It startled the man, and Peter felt embarrassed after doing so. He hesitantly released him. “I can’t go to the hospital.”
“You’re bleeding out, Peter. I think you need to.”
“No! I can’t because if they draw or test my blood, they’ll realize my DNA is genetically enhanced.” Peter sat up, getting increasingly worked up. “What if I need surgery? They won’t give me enough anesthesia—I’ll be awake for the whole thing and—”
“Hey, hey! It’s okay. You’re alright.” Tony gently put a hand on Peter’s chest, pushing him back down lightly. “You gotta calm down, kid. You’re going to hurt yourself if you get too worked up.”
Peter paused, took a deep breath to ground himself, then nodded in response.
“Yeah…okay. You’re right.”
“Come on. Let’s get you back inside.” Tony knelt down and helped Peter to his feet. Unable to carry him without the suit, Tony let Peter put his weight against him as they headed for the train that led back up Point Dume.
When they arrived back at the house, Tony hurried him into the nearest guest room, helping him onto the bed. He tried his best to avoid looking at the blood that had stuck to him, dripping down his white dress shirt. The fact that it wasn’t his own blood only made it more sickening to Tony.
Peter carefully tried to situate himself, worried about ruining the comforter. He held the suit jacket tightly to his stomach, wincing as the adrenaline started to wear off.
“Don’t worry about the bed, kid.” Tony paced the room, trying to think of a plan. He ran an anxious hand through his hair. “Dammit, I really don’t know any doctors on the West Coast. Friday, make a note in the future to make more medical connections over here.” He continued to pace, then stopped, eyeing Peter wearily. “What if I paid off the doctor? I could buy any doctor.”
“No…no, money doesn’t buy trust…” Peter lay back on the pillow, squinting his eyes tightly shut. “Needs to be someone you can trust.”
Tony continued to watch Peter, a paralyzed expression on his face, a fearful one he rarely wore. Then he quickly reached into his pocket and dialed, leaving the room in a hurry.
Peter closed his eyes, succumbing to the tiredness gnawing at him and the never-fading pain pulsing from his abdomen. He woke up what felt like seconds later, sweating, pulse in his throat. He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake, and his strained eyes fluttered open to see Tony hovering over him, sitting beside him on the bed. A pile of medical supplies was laid out on the rest of the empty bedspread.
“Kid, I’ve got Dr. Helen Cho on the phone. She’s going to work me through how to help you, okay?”
Peter gave a somewhat conscious nod in response.
“Okay. Alright. So she said I don’t have to do anything too extreme because your healing factor should handle the rest. I do, however, have to stitch you up to stop the bleeding.” Tony grabbed the disinfectant with somewhat shaky hands. “It’s going to hurt.”
Peter sat up a little, propping himself up on the pillow. He lifted his shirt and winced when he finally saw the wounds. It made his stomach lurch. Peter tightly grabbed the bedspread in fistfuls at his side, preparing himself.
As soon as the disinfectant made contact with the gaping cuts, Peter flinched, biting back a yelp.
“Sorry—I’m sorry.” Tony cleaned the blood as quickly as he could, then carelessly threw the bloodied gauze in a frenzied pile on the bed. His hands quivered, so Tony reached for an item Peter hadn’t noticed before: a bottle of alcohol. “My damn hands won’t stop shaking,” He grumbled to himself, then took a swig before putting it back. “Just to steady the nerves.”
Tony said a few things to Cho over the phone, things Peter missed in his delirious haze. His mentor took out some medical threat and a needle.
“Pete, Cho okayed me to stitch you up. I don’t have any anesthesia, but I’ve got some painkillers I can give you after. Is that alright? We can always try to find someone else if you—”
“Do it.” Peter leaned his head back, bracing himself. “I trust you.”
Tony was quiet for a moment. Peter kept his eyes closed, tired and unable to look at the gaping wounds in his abdomen. He didn’t see the stitches start, but he felt it, and his whole body flinched in response. He bit down on his tongue by accident and held back a cry. He kept his eyes tightly shut, waiting for it to be over.
The man finished stitching him up as quickly as he could while simultaneously being careful. He let out a long breath when it was finally over and set the bloodied needle down, wiping his bloodied hands on his already bloody shirt.
“Cho, I’m sending you a picture. Let me know if it looks alright, if I need to do anything else.” Tony said over the phone, attaching the image and sending it to her.
“Is it over?” Peter asked in a tired and quiet voice.
Tony looked up and set the phone down.
“Yeah. Cho said your healing factor will do the rest.”
Peter nodded, closing his eyes and letting himself sink into the bed. He hummed quietly in response.
He didn’t hear the man leave the room, but he was quiet for so long he thought maybe he had just missed it. Then he heard his voice again, followed by a shaky breath and a dismal laugh, if one could even call it a laugh.
“I’m sorry, kid. I should’ve brought the suit—I should’ve planned for the worst. I usually do, but…I don’t know why I didn’t this time. I’ll call out of the conference tomorrow, hire someone to go in my place.” Tony ran a tired hand down his face. He continued, mumbling more to himself than to Peter. “Dammit. You could have died. I could have killed you with my quack surgeon work.” He eyed the alcohol but did nothing more. Maybe if he weren't in charge of a teen, he would have, but he wasn’t going to drink when he might be needed.
“I should’ve been more careful. I forgot I wasn’t in my suit,” Peter said, eyes still closed, starting to drift off. “It’s on me.”
“Let’s agree to disagree.” Tony patted the bed by Peter’s leg. “I gave you the suit, I brought you into the Accords mess. Your life’s on me. Anything that ever happens to you is on me.” Tony spoke more freely than he normally did, too worked up to realize the vulnerability. Plus, he figured Peter would forget, being delirious out of his mind.
But when Peter woke up the next morning to the Malibu sun streaming through the bedroom window, he remembered every word.