Chapter Text
Exposure.
The desert didn’t sleep so much as hold its breath, a sheet of heat still clinging to the cracked ground, even with the horizon tinted that washed out blue that comes right before the sun rises. Floodlights threw hard cones of white across the excavation site: silver chrome tents, scaffolding, and the glint of Stark stamped equipment everywhere, dust hung in the air like fog made out of glass.
Peter adjusted his mask in an attempt to look like he belonged in the middle of it all, the generators thrummed low under the chatter of comms and the metallic clatter of unpacked gear. Every sound bounced off of the empty expanse, his boots sticking slightly in the powdery dirt as he jogged over to where Tony and Banner stood over a tablet, holo projection spinning a cross section of whatever the thing was buried below them. Peter could see the outline of the artifact under the sand, its geometric lines peeking out faintly. Too symmetrical for it to be natural, too.. alien to be comfortable. A dull silver light pulsed out of it when the light hit it right, like a heartbeat under the earth.
“-All I’m saying is the readings don’t make sense,” Banner mutters “it’s throwing a radiation signature that isn’t any isotope I recognize.” Tony sighs, “That’s because it’s not from around here,” he said, tapping the projection “which, for the record, was my pitch for this road trip. Exotic ruin, sunrise lighting, and a federal budget to match-” He placed his palm on Banner's shoulder “You’re welcome.”
Natasha passed behind them, her hair tied up and her tablet already streaming perimeter camera feeds, “didn’t mention the part where we get to babysit your intern in a hazmat dome.” Peter perked up at that “I’m not an intern anymore.” She gave him a look over her shoulder “sure about that?”
Tony didn’t glance up “he’s right. ‘Intern’ doesn’t cover hazard pay, upgraded him to ‘rookie with medical insurance.’ just uh, don’t lick anything extraterrestrial kid.” “I wasn’t gonna-!” Peter started, then sighed, looking down at the dirt “you say that like that’s something I’d do.”
“History suggests otherwise” Tony said, his voice distracted as he zoomed in on the readings. Across the site, Steve was busy directing the S.H.I.E.L.D crew as they unrolled the containment dome, the silver fabric catching the light like a second sunrise. Thor, who was impossibly cheerful for the time, was hauling support beams with one hand, whistling something that sounded vaguely Asgardian and completely off key. Peter’s suit sensors ticked through the environmental data: temperature climbing fast, low humidity, dust particulates within tolerance. The familiar HUD display steadied him ‘See? Competent. Useful.’ He scanned through the readouts for F.R.I.D.A.Y’s diagnostic feed before Tony had to ask him.
“Pressure seals holding” he reported, he tried to sound older and flatter like the others. “Air recirc at 97%, dome integrity reading stable across the western ridge.” “Copy” Tony replied, his tone was quick but approving “look at that, kid’s reading numbers now. Next thing you know he’ll be asking for a chair at the big kids table” Peter smiled behind his mask “already built it in the lab.” Banner made a sound that might’ve been a laugh, quickly covering it with a cough.
The next gust of wind brought through the smell of ozone and metal, sharp enough that everybody's head turned to the excavation pit, the floodlight glare flickered, dimmed, the steadied back out. The artifact shimmered under the sand shifting above it, the light pulsing in sync with the hum of the generator for a couple seconds before going still again. “F.R.I.D.A.Y,” Tony said “give me a schematic of that energy fluctuation.”
A ripple of holo bloomed over the pit, clear threads forming a lattice over the structure, the dome sensors hummed as the containment fields charged, thin arcs of blue skimming the air like lightning trapped in a bottle. “Air quality check complete,” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced, “Trace particulate matter within safe parameters. No airborne toxins detected, entry authorized.”
Steve adjusted his mask, “that’s our cue”
Tony turned to the team, his voice was quick and confident, all business now. “Alright, standard protocol: Cap and Romanoff, you take the west dig wall, Banner monitor bio signatures, Thor, don’t touch the shiny thing yet, and our friendly neighborhood spiderman, stick with me, okay?” Peter’s heart picked up ‘with him’, not behind him or out of the way.. with. He tried to hide the smile that was forming under his mask “got it Mr. Stark.” Tony glanced over, one of his eyebrows lifting behind his visor, “kid.. try not to make that face when you say it. You look like you’re about to get a gold star.” That straightened Peter automatically, his voice steady this time “Understood.”
“Better.”
The containment dome sealed with a metallic sigh, floodlights dimming to a low amber as they stepped toward the excavation pit, the desert wind dying the moment the pressure doors closed. Inside the dome, sound narrowed down to the mechanical hiss of filtration systems and the rhythmic buzz of instruments, Peter’s palms itched with static as he followed Tony down the grated walkway, eyes catching the faint gleam of silver veins in the sand below. Safe to enter, that's what F.R.I.D.A.Y. had said, he believed her, he didn’t have any idea that this time.. Tony’s overly cautious checklists weren’t enough.
The ground gave way to steel, Stark drones already having carved the spiral shaft straight into the desert floor, smooth metallic ribs of alloy sat against the clay walls like the inside of a massive shell. Floodlights ran in a line down the curve, washing everything in bands alternating in bright white and shadow, the air changed the deeper that they went, cooler and thicker, carrying a sterile tang of ozone mixing with the wet earth and something sweet.. like flowers that were cut days ago but were forgotten in the water of a vase.
Peter followed behind Steve closely, his boots ringing against the grated path faintly, suit HUD scrolling through a lazy river of data in the corner of his vision: oxygen steady, pressure normal, radiation flatline. These numbers are meant to be boring, Banner’s favourite word, but he couldn't help checking them every few seconds, it wasn’t because he was nervous, just focused… prepared. Totally fine.
Tony’s voice flickered through his comm “Keep your respirator sealed kid. No heroic deep breaths. I don’t need to explain to your aunt’s ghost why you inhaled alien dust, copy?” “Copy” Peter said, he tried to sound casual but his voice came out higher than he meant it to, and he could almost hear Tony’s smirk behind the mask. Ahead of them, Steve’s steady pace didn’t falter, he moved as though the shaft itself was familiar, his shield slung across his back, flashlight beam cutting through the dust suspended in the air. Nat was trailing behind him, her boots faintly scraping on the ground and being muffled out by the hiss of filtration through everyone's helmets. Banner descended last, holding a handheld scanner that was flickering with pale green readouts reflecting off of his glasses.
“Bio fluorescence at the lower strata” Banner murmured as he crouched to sweep the wall. Tiny veins of light flickered under the surface of the clay, pale blue and pulsing slowly like the ground itself was breathing. “That normal?” Steve asked without turning, Banner hesitated “define normal” “not glowing,” Tony said “thats normal”
“Would say it's a mineral reaction,” Banner said, adjusting a dial on his scanner, “but it’s rhythmic.” Tony made a low sound, “Alien disco. Great.”
Peter leaned over the railing slightly, peering down at the shaft that was opening wider below them, leading them into a hollow pocket big enough to swallow a subway station. His sensors tagged the depth at thirty seven meters and counting, the lights from above them barely reached that far, shimmering across the metallic ribs like ripples on water.
The air thickened the deeper that they went, turning cooler but somehow heavier, dense enough that Peter could feel each inhale tug a little harder through the filter. His HUD blinked with every breath, readouts steady, still normal. He told himself the sweetness in the air was just mineral residue, not something alive. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, particulate status” Tony said. “Within acceptable thresholds” she replied “trace readings of unidentifiable micro debris, composition pending.”
“That’s vague,” Nat said, her voice low. “Welcome to science” Tony replied.
They had made it to the landing where the spiral ended in a reinforced platform, the drones had ringed the chamber with scaffolding, the beams faintly humming with the residual energy. In the middle of the space the artifact protruded from the earth like a half buried heart, its smooth metal vines with tiny cracks of light that were moving slowly. Almost like something was sleeping. Peter froze at the sight of it “that’s… huge.”
Tony stepped up beside him and scanned it with a handheld reader that projected faint blue over the surface “understatement of the year. Banner, tell me that’s inert?” Banner replied with sweeping his scanner again, he frowned “No heat signature, no radiation, but-” “don’t say ‘but’” Tony warned him, “-there’s an oscillation inside of the structure. Could be energy storage. Or… maybe some kind of biological analog.” Tony sighed, “‘course it’s biological. Why can’t we ever find normal space junk again?”
Steve crouched near the base, brushing away a layer of dust, the metal underneath was perfectly smooth, almost mirror bright despite the centuries it had been buried. His reflection stared back at him, distorted by faint ripples that seemed to move on their own. Then, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice cut through the channel again, it was sharper this time. “Particulate levels spiking.”
Peter’s HUD blinked yellow, he stiffened scanning the readouts. The levels jumped, held for half a second, then fell back into the green. “Correction” F.R.I.D.A.Y added, her tone returning to neutral, “readings stabilised. Possible static interference from the containment field.” That made Tony glance at Banner. “You getting anything?” “Nothing sustained..” Banner said as he checked his own instruments. “Could’ve been dust displacement from the generator.” Tony exhaled half a laugh. “Good. Keep it that way. My paperwork limit’s been reached for the decade.”
Peter let himself breathe again, shallow through the respirator. The sweet scent was stronger down here; it threaded under the metallic tang making the back of his throat prickle. He shifted his stance, forcing himself to look busy.. useful. Tony’s hand clapped his shoulder, the gesture being more grounding than it had any right to be “Eyes up kiddo. You’re doing fine.”
Peter nodded quickly. “Yeah! Just, um… taking it in.”
The shaft widened out again into a side chamber that hadn’t shown up on any of F.R.I.D.A.Y’s preliminary scans, the drones that were hovering ahead flickered uncertainly, lights cutting across walls that looked like they had been grown instead of built; translucent planes of something in between glass and crystal, veins of light running through them like lightning that had been frozen in the middle of a strike. Every surface hummed so faintly that Peter felt it more than he heard it, a vibration thrumming through the soles of his boots and up his legs until it settled in behind his ribs, the air itself carried a pitch, low and constant, it was the kind of sound that made you want to swallow just to make sure your ears still worked.
He edged closer, his gloved hand skimming over the railing “...feels alive” he murmured before he could think of a better way to say it out loud. The vibration answered anyway, a pulse that rippled through the floor like the earth's heartbeat. Banner crouched by the closest wall, his scanner held in one hand and a sample probe in the other, readouts crawling over his screen in different shades of green and blue. “Micro structures. Spherical. Dormant” he adjusted the range “Maybe protein shells? Spore casings, could be fossilised”
Tony leaned over his shoulder, his face lit cold by the scanner glow, “fossilised doesn’t mean harmless. Bag it and tag it before my day gets worse.” He motioned to the S.H.E.I.L.D techs who were already starting to unpack containment canisters. Their suits gleaming underneath the crystalline light, reflections warping across the walls like figures underwater. Natasha moved around the perimeter methodically, checking for any other tunnels. Her voice came through comms steady and professional, “no secondary exits. Structural integrity’s solid.. wait, getting static on-” The rest of it dissolved into a sharp burst of white noise, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s channel flickered for half a second before it managed to stabilize itself again.
Tony’s head snapped up “F.R.I.D.A.Y, talk to me” “Temporary interference” she said, but her voice was thinner than usual “Signal integrity restored.” “Loving that confidence” Tony muttered, turning back to Bruce “Make it quick.”
Peter stayed next to the far wall, his eyes tracing over the alien markings that curled along the crystalline surface, they weren’t letters so much as fractures of light, sitting thin and deliberate and glowing just enough to make his eyes water if he stared at them too long. Every symbol seemed to shimmer in and out of alignment, almost like the wall couldn’t quite decide on one shape at a time, he shifted his stance, the hum pushing against his chest now, and realised that the smell in the air had changed, now being less ozone and more iron.He took a slow breath in through the respirator, the tang hit the back of his throat sharply, so metallic it almost tasted like blood. The air down here was bone dry; the inside of his nose prickled from it, for a second he was sure that the familiar sting meant he had a nosebleed about to start. He lifted a gloved hand inside his mask and managed to awkwardly wipe at his upper lip. He checked his fingers.. Nothing. No red smear, no trace at all.
‘It’s probably just the altitude change’ he told himself. The dry air, long night. He dropped his hand and forced his focus back to Tony’s voice that was echoing through the comms.
“Alright, people, samples secured. F.R.I.D.A.Y, flag the area for quarantine and send coordinates topside for a containment vault.”
That's when the crystalline hum deepened, just barely, it was subtle enough that nobody else seemed to notice. Peter swallowed against the pressure that was sitting in his ears. The vibration answered again, it was softer this time, like a breath drawn in.
The artifact pulsed again, just once.. just faintly. No one noticed it except for Peter, the light running along its surface like breath under its skin, then faded, just leaving the echo of that heartbeat glow against the dome’s floodlights.
The hum of the chamber deepened as the team worked, it was almost comfortable in its repetition. Thor had moved closer to Peter, toward the far wall, his curiosity shining bright through his visor “this piece appears loose,” he said as he braced one of his hands against a jut of crystalline material, “perhaps it will grant us clearer passage if-”
“Wait-! Thor, don’t-” Tony started, but he was already shifting his weight against it. The fragment came free with a sound that was almost like glass sighing. A tremor rippled out, it was subtle enough that the drones’ stabilisers were barely flickering but strong enough to make every foot that was sitting on the platform feel the shift. The crystalline walls vibrated as a response, the light now running like water through the veins under the surface. A hairline crack chased the pulse as thin as spider silk, branching downward until it disappeared into the floor.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y??” Tony snapped.
“Pressure differential detected,” she replied, her voice carrying the clipped edge that meant this isn’t minor “Containment integrity fluctuating by three percent and rising”
Tony straightened back up instantly, his tone shifting to authority and command. “Lockdown now. Seal the chamber and deploy drones. Nobody touch anything else.”
Peter had been crouched beside Banner carefully loading sample vials into a magnetic case, the tremor made the clamps buzz in his hands, Banner managed to catch the case before it tipped, muttering “easy.. got it.” They both looked up as F.R.I.D.A.Y’s alarm chimed again, above them a faint crackle broke through the stillness. Dust shimmered down from the fractured wall like glitter, tiny motes of light, iridescent, catching the floodlights in pink and gold flashes. It wasn’t falling as much as it was drifting, like a slow rain that fizzed faintly where it touched metal.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y? we have particulates.” Tony barked out. “Originating from breach point east quadrant,” she confirmed, “Isolating airflow.”
Peter turned his head up just as a flake landed against his visor, the HUD flashing white static for half a second, it fizzled then corrected itself. He blinked, startled as another particle hit the edge of his mask and burst in a short spark before it faded to nothing. A prickle ran along his jaw, he could feel the faint clicking of the pressure shifting under the respirator, a tiny leak of air brushing against his cheek, the warning light on his HUD blinked amber for a second.
“Seal integrity compromised” FRIDAY said, her voice starting to turn sharper, still calm but moving, “I’ve got it,” Peter said automatically as he reached for the auxiliary valve on his mask, managing to shut it with a practiced twist. The hiss cut off, the HUD finally returning back to green. His reflex came too late for the single breath of air he had already inhaled, the taste hitting him straight away, sharp, metallic, already coating the back of his tongue like pennies that had been left in rainwater. He coughed once. It was hard enough that the sound echoed in his helmet. The dizziness that followed this was fleeting, completely gone before he could even register it.
Tony was already there, one of his gloved hands gripping onto Peter’s shoulder, holding him steady while the other one flicked through the wrist display “F.R.I.D.A.Y, isolate this section. Now.”
“Perimeter now sealed. Negative airflow to upper dome.”
Banner’s scanner beeped steadily, “Trace bio organics in the sample zone. Possibly non viable.” Peter’s HUD scrolled a message over the top corner: ‘Biological particulate detected; concentration negligible.’ He coughed again and his voice broke through the comms “I’m fine! Just swallowed a bug or something.” Tony’s tone tightened at that “That wasn’t a bug.”
“I’m fine” Peter repeated, forcing a half laugh out that sounded steadier than he felt. “Really. No symptoms, see?” “Yeah, because they always start right away” Tony muttered, already starting to motion to the drones “Neutraliser foam, full sweep.”
A row of Stark micro drones darted overhead, their nozzles starting to release a fine mist that crystallised in midair to soft grey foam. It coated the crack in the wall, hissing faintly, then hardening into an even layer of dull. The smell of ozone thickened until the filters kicked up a notch. In seconds the shimmer had faded; the floating specks melted out of the air and left the space calm again. Banner checked his scanner one last time. “No active bio signature now, trace protein shells only. Non viable.”
Tony’s shoulders dropped a fraction at hearing that, but he kept a hand braced on Peter’s arm until the readings steadied “Great. Fantastic. Everyone still breathing? Preferably the normal way?” Thor’s laugh echoed through the comms, “The air is strange, but I remain mighty!”
“Cool, keep being mighty from the corner,” Tony said, his voice coming out dry, but then, quieter: “You okay kid?” Peter nodded, swallowing the leftover metallic taste “Yeah. All good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Promise.”
Tony’s eyes stayed fixed on the HUD display for another beat before he let it go, “alright. Banner, get your samples topside. F.R.I.D.A.Y, keep the quarantine sealed until we know what kind of alien glitter bomb that was.” The team moved back into motion, the professional rhythm coming back in stilted bursts. Nat’s voice came through the comm’s again, faint under the static. “Perimeter holding. No new breaches.”
“Good.” Tony said, “let’s keep it boring from here on out.” Peter focused on putting away the sample clamps, the repetition settling his nerves back down. His face was burning with embarrassment under his mask, he could practically feel Tony watching him through a dozen sensor feeds. The last thing that he wanted was to be the reason they had to scrub the entire mission, ‘It’s fine’ he told himself. ‘A tiny crack. One breath. It’s Nothing’.
As the drones sealed the last fracture the chamber’s hum dropped back to that low, steady sound they had gotten used to. The foam cooled down into this dull grey sheen, disguising where the wall had broken, now looking as though nothing had happened. Everything looked perfectly still. Near the base of the sealed seam where the drones’ foam had stopped, one speck of dust glimmered faintly, drifting sideways slowly enough that nobody noticed, and melting into the narrow vent seam across the floor. The glow vanished before the light could even catch it.
Forty five minutes later the desert had a different sound to it, wind again, actual, real wind, sweeping over the containment dome and scattering the taste of ozone that had hung in the air. The sun had climbed high enough to bleach everything in a flat white. Tents shimmered, metal rigs mirrored hard reflections, and the floodlights looked ghostly pale against the daylight, the team went through the familiar movements of post mission procedure: the showers hissing inside the portable decon units, armour sections unsealed and stacked in labelled crates, and drones humming quietly as they scanned the equipment line by line. Peter stood in the sterilisation corridor with his mask off for the first time in hours, his suit was hanging open at the waist, and his curls damp from the disinfectant mist. His throat itched faintly from the recycled air, nothing worse than the scratch that came after a long night patrol. The faint metallic taste lingered there, like the water at school that sometimes came out of the taps that were too old to be drunk out of, but he swallowed it away and followed everybody out into the sunlight.
Tony was waiting by the diagnostics table, his tablet balanced on one of his arms, stylus tapping out the rhythm of his mental checklist “Vitals, radiation, pathogens, everyone line up and pretend I’m the TSA. F.R.I.D.A.Y? give me the good news first.” “Negative for all standard contagions and known radiological compounds, sir” she replied, her sitting tone cool and efficient “all personnel cleared for surface operations.”
“Look at that,” Tony said, pretending to be impressed by the information “clean bill of health. We’re setting records.” Banner was speaking into his recorder nearby, his voice being half distracted while he scrolled through data feeds. “Sample integrity at ninety eight percent. Trace bio organics stable. No measurable reactive compounds after neutraliser contact, Suggest storage under standard cryo quarantine until structural analysis complete”
Nat, who was perched on the step of a transport crate, was moving a brush through her hair with one hand and tapping sand out of her glove with the other. “Next time we pick an alien ruin, can we find one that isn’t ninety percent silica. I’ve got half the Mojave in my elbows.” “Adds character,” Tony said without looking up at her, “couple of grains more and you’ll have exfoliation built in.” “Cute,” she replied
Peter leaned against the supply trunk, pretending to look at the horizon while F.R.I.D.A.Y’s scanners moved over him, sweeping him with a column of blue light that traced from the crown of his head down to his boots, leaving a faint buzz on his skin. Halfway through the scan the itch in his throat caught and turned into a short cough, it was dry and quick, really nothing more than reflex, but Banner glanced up automatically “Long shift, huh?” “Yeah,” Peter said as he cleared his throat, “air’s dry.” Tony pointed his stylus toward him, “don’t break anything in the last five minutes of the mission. I already filled out the no injury paperwork”
Peter smiled at that, the grin spreading fast. “Guess we’ll keep it that way.” The banter moved easily now, familiar enough that any earlier tension now felt like it was half imagined. Thor was busy recounting his heroic retrieval of the “shimmering crystal heart” to an unimpressed Steve, Nat rolled her eyes as she listened, and Banner was muttering corrections into his recorder. The air smelled like hot metal and disinfectant and the faint sweetness of the decon soap. It all felt clean again, ordinary.. safe.
F.R.I.D.A.Y’s last diagnostic sweep scrolled quietly across Tony’s tablet. Every line read nominal until the last entry flickered once, hesitated, and resolved into neat text:
Particulate class-Θ signature unresolved, flag low priority.
Tony barely noticed the line before the screen managed to refresh, turned the tablet off with a satisfied flick, pocketed the stylus, and clapped his hands together. “Alright team! congratulations on another successful episode of Science Digs Holes It Can’t Explain. Wheels up in ten.” Peter smiled, the itch in his throat already fading away into a distant memory, he reached for his helmet, the desert sun catching on the visor as he lifted it, and breathed in the dry air deep one more time, bright, sharp, and perfectly normal.
Or at least, it seemed like it was.
---------------------------
By the time they made it back to the compound the sun had already dropped behind the tree line, and the last of the light danced through the glass in soft orange streaks that turned everything gold for a few minutes before it dulled into grey. The dorm level was quiet, most of the others had scattered to showers, labs, or the kitchen.. but Peter had stayed in his room, his navy blue hoodie pulled over his hair, sitting cross legged on the bed with his web shooters disassembled in neat rows across a towel. The air still smelled faintly like metal and disinfectant, outside the window the lake caught the last flutter of light and threw it in slow waves against the wall. Inside, the hum of the HVAC filled the silence just enough that it didn’t feel lonely. His hands worked automatically: checking cartridges, cleaning the nozzles, lining up every part exactly the same way that Tony had shown him once. He wasn’t even really thinking about it, it was just habit.
But every so often, he coughed, they were small and shallow, not even something that pulled at his chest, the back of his throat still felt dry, like desert dust that just wouldn’t quite wash away completely. Peter reached for the bottle of water sitting on his nightstand and drank half of it in one go, the cold making his teeth ache. It helped for about three seconds. ‘Desert air’, he thought. ‘I’m just dehydrated’. He’d gone through worse. His head felt fuzzy in that quiet way that always came after he had a mission, that half alive hum where the adrenaline was still leaking out of his system but his body still hadn’t figured out what to do next. Everything had slowed down, the weight of the bed pressed softly against his back and the fabric of the hoodie sitting warm and heavy on his shoulders. He let his eyes close for a second, seeing the afterimages of excavation lights, neon bright lines vining over black sand, the flicker of silver dust falling through his visor. He smiled, everything went well all things considered. No injuries, no lectures. Tony hadn’t hovered nearly as much as he used to, that on it’s own had to count for something. He heard his phone buzz somewhere under the pile of notebooks, fishing it out with one hand he swiped the screen without even checking who it was.
“Hey,” MJ’s voice came through, it was gentle, a little crackly “you sound tired.”
“I’m fine,” he said as he smiled up at the ceiling. “Long day. Desert dust, y’know.”
“That the new villain?”
“Yeah,” he said, “alias: dry air, irritating, no known weaknesses”
She laughed quietly, the sound of her typing in the background, “you home for the weekend?”
“Don’t know, maybe. Depends what Mr. Stark’s definition of downtime is this week”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
He could hear the smile in her voice while they talked for a few more minutes about nothing, just school stuff, some movie she wanted him to see, and then she hung up, “Get some sleep spiderboy.”
“’Night,” he said into the empty line, he was still grinning when he set the phone down. It faded as his eyes fell on the sleeve of his suit folded over the chair, under the lamplight a faint smear of silver caught his eye. It was just a narrow streak along the cuff, the type of residue the decon foam usually ate through. Peter frowned and rubbed at it with the edge of the towel,watching it fade into the fabric “...guess I missed a spot” he muttered, throwing the towel back onto the wood floor.
A knock came at the door before he could stand up, “yeah?”
The door cracked open and Tony leaned in through the frame, still in jeans and a T-shirt that looked a day too old and holding two mugs that were balanced in one hand. “Hydration metrics” he said like it was an explanation, “Banner’s been yelling about electrolytes. Brought bribes”
Peter laughed under his breath and took one of the mugs. It smelt like cocoa even though Tony would never admit that. “You’re very concerned about my health tonight, Mr. Stark.” “I’m always concerned, just selectively vocal about it” Tony said, he stayed standing in the doorway sipping at his own drink, eyes flicking over the line of web shooter parts on the bed “You still cleaning those things by hand? You know I built you an auto flush dock. Right?” “Yeah, but then I’d have to go to the lab. And this is like.. mindfulness or whatever.” “Right. Zen via solvent fumes.” Tony’s mouth twitched up into a half smile. “How’s the head? Still good?” Peter nodded in answer “Mhm. Just tired.” “Good. Stay that way. Banner’s running a few more analyses on those samples, gonna call in a minute. I’ll check in after.”
He lingered there for a second longer, his expression softening in that way it sometimes did when he thought that Peter wasn’t paying attention, his phone buzzed making him sigh, he checked the caller ID, and turned toward the hall. “Drink that before it gets cold. I’m not making another one.” “Sir yes sir,” Peter said with a salute. “Smartass,” Tony muttered as the door clicked shut behind him.
Then the room went quiet again, Peter set the mug on the nightstand, the warmth of it bleeding slowly through the ceramic into his palm. Outside the door, the last of the light had gone, being replaced by the pale glow of the compound’s perimeter lamps that was reflected in the window glass. The shadows in the corners felt thicker now but it was more comforting than scary, like night had finally settled in and the world could rest for a bit. Peter leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly through his nose, his eyelids heavier than he thought. His vision fuzzed a little around the edges, the ache sitting behind his eyes dull but.. persistent. ‘I should be exhausted after missions,’ he thought, ‘that’s normal.’
The thought drifted away right as a cough slipped out, echoing once in the quiet before fading back out into the hum of the air vents