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Peter held his bleeding side, his head pounding as he limped across the battlefield. His ears were ringing, and he winced from the brightness of the light.
Blood was smeared all over his bruised face. His swollen eyes opened slightly as he lifted his head to what was in front of him. He had to put a hand in front of his eyes to adjust to the light, squinting at the shadowy figure ahead.
Tony.
A pain curled up in his heart.
His former mentor took a breath before addressing him, his eyes seeming to flicker across Peter's injured form.
“Kid.”
That pain in Peter's heart curled into a tight knot. His hardened eyes stared forward, softening slightly at the nickname.
He looked away, his face contorting into something bitter and tired.
Tony paused, taking a long moment to really look at Peter.
The last time he remembered seeing the kid was on a battlefield during the final fight with Thanos. Though he had been slightly injured, Peter had somehow still had that bright glow and smile to him, and that same light in his eyes.
He didn't see that anymore.
Sure, Peter physically looked around the same—though he had grown and matured some—there was something...different in his eyes.
It was a look Tony recognized. A hardened, faraway look that didn't suit him. What stood in the place of the bright kid that he knew was now a broken young man.
“The eyes, Chico, they never lie.”
He didn't have a clue what happened.
Peter wheezed from the sharp pain in his ribs, his now grown-out curls sticking to his sweaty skin. He felt like a kid again, wanting to receive praise and validation from his mentor.
His eyes were sunken in now, his features sharper and lined with exhaustion. Part of it was due to physically maturing into a young adult. But most of the changes were due to the stress and trauma he had endured over the years.
Tony noticed that.
Peter was different now. Still his kid, but...different. More mature. Broken.
“What happened to you, kid?”
Peter's heart continued to contort in his chest. Or at least, that's how it felt. For a moment, the tightness of his face softened, and his eyes became glassy.
Peter let out a shaky breath. Was it one of relief? For a moment, he felt like a kid again.
“T...Tony…” Peter breathed out. His lips began to quiver and he could feel heavy tears beginning to well up in his eyes. His voice was heavy and watery.
Tony was tired too, though his face had been lined for exhaustion for decades. Half of his face was charred from the use of the infinity stones, and he wore a self-made Iron Man prosthetic.
He gave the kid a strained smile, and opened his arms to offer a hug.
“C'mere, kid.”
Peter quickly ran into his arms and buried his face in his mentor's chest, now able to hear the mechanical noise of his miniature arch reactor and the beat of his heart.
Bump bump.
Bump bump.
Bump bump.
Peter Parker sobbed.
“I got you,” Tony spoke in low, gentle tones, a hand on Peter's back. “I got you…”