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Peter blinked his eyes open, immediately regretting it as bright streams of sunlight fried his retinas. Where was he? It was difficult to tell. It seemed like an alley. Brick walls standing on either side of him, reaching many stories high before giving way to bright sunny skies. There was a dumpster next to him. He could smell it.
Peter groaned and tried to sit up, but let himself slump back down when an overwhelming wave of dizziness overtook him. His head throbbed, and his mouth tasted strongly of blood.
He tried to sit up again, and sighed in relief when he managed to get in a sitting position, back leaning against the dumpster. He could see he wasn’t wearing his suit, which was strange. Why else would he have been passed out in a random alley?
“Please, stop.”
A flash of memory made its way through.
Peter was curled in a ball, blood streaming down his face. He would’ve fought back, but they couldn’t know he was Spider-Man. They just couldn’t.
He’d been kidnapped.
“What do you want from me?”
Kidnapped as Peter Parker. Not as Spider-Man.
“We don’t want anything from you. We want money from that famous sugar daddy of yours.”
Kidnapped for Tony Stark’s money.
“He’s not my sugar daddy.”
“Sure, kid.”
Peter groaned again, coughing. It caused a sharp pain to bloom in his chest, and he noticed a spatter of blood where he’d coughed. That probably wasn’t too good.
He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten out.
“Get out. Your sugar daddy’ll come get you soon.”
Had Tony paid the ransom money? It made sense. Why else would they have just let him go?
There was a buzzing in the back of his head. No, not in his head. It was right there. He could hear it. Repulsors? Was Tony coming?
Peter coughed again, the pain returning like a stab to the heart, more blood spattering on the ground beside him. The repulsors were getting louder. He closed his eyes and saw black, swirling with rainbow colours that made the throbbing in his head worse. He could hear the Iron Man suit still. It was really loud. Tony was close.
The repulsors stopped. There was a thud and the sound of the Iron Man suit moving. Peter wearily cracked his blood-crusted eyelids open. Tony was there. He was a bit blurry as he stepped out of the Iron Man suit. Not too blurry, though. Not blurry enough where Peter didn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes, and the messed up hair and clothes.
Tony looked worried as he crouched down to Peter’s level. No, not worried. Terrified. He was saying something. His mouth was moving. Yet to Peter it sounded like he was speaking underwater. He could pick out his name though. “Peter!” Being yelled over and over in between other muttered sentences.
Peter blinked a few times, and opened his eyes to see Tony snapping his fingers in front of his face. Trying not to worry him more, Peter attempted a shaky smile.
“Hey Mr Stark,” he managed croakily, and Tony seemed to slump in relief at the words, though also still seemed incredibly concerned. Peter widened his smile to worry Tony less. It didn’t seem to work.
“Pete,” Tony said in a strained voice. “Your mouth is full of blood.”
Peter knew that. He could taste it. And he could hear Tony properly now, so that was a bonus.
“I know. I can taste it.”
This didn’t seem to help. Not that Tony should be the one being comforted anyway. Peter was the one who’d been kidnapped for god’s sake!
“Shit, kid. I’m so sorry,” Tony sighed sadly. What did he have to be sorry for? It wasn’t his fault. “Let’s get you to medbay, okay?”
Peter nodded, and watched as Tony stepped back into the Iron Man suit. His mentor stepped forward and gently scooped Peter up. It hurt like hell, the metal of the suit pressing on his bruised and cut body. Tony clearly noticed this, as he said: “Sorry, kid. We can get you some painkillers at medbay.”
Peter groaned. Medbay seemed so far away. If only he could just… sleep. He blinked slowly. It was only for a bit. The world was fading, black spots invading his vision. His eyes closed at the same time he heard a yellled “Kid!” from Tony, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The dark was so nice.
Peter awoke to the beeping of some sort of monitor. Medbay, his brain helpfully supplied as he opened his eyes to see the bright white walls that he, as Spider-Man, was well accustomed to. Tony was sitting next to his bed, staring at him. When Peter opened his eyes properly his mentor’s own eyes widened, and he slumped a bit with relief.
“You gave us a bit of a scare there, buddy,” Tony said softly.
Peter grinned at him, and was happy to find that his mouth no longer tasted of blood. “It’s all good, Mr Stark. Just another Tuesday, really.”
Tony frowned at Peter’s flippancy, which really wasn’t fair! Tony Stark was the poster child of humour as a coping mechanism. He couldn’t be judging.
“This is why I kept you away from the press, kid. To avoid… well.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “S’not you’re fault Mr Stark. Paparazzi.”
Tony looked at him with fondness. “I’ve always hated them.”
Peter hummed in agreement. “Well at least I can cross getting kidnapped off my bucket list.”
Tony looked horrified, reaching his hand over to Peter. “You have being kidnapped on your bucket list?”
Peter giggled, though it sounded a bit raspy. “No Mr Stark, that was a joke.” It wasn’t a joke, but he wasn’t going to tell Tony that.
“Good, ‘cause you scared the shit outta me, kid — and May, she’s coming over now. Don’t do that again.”
Peter’s heart warmed, and he smiled a gentler smile at his mentor. “I won’t,” he said. And then: “Oh my god May’s gonna kill me.”
“No she won’t,” Tony scolded. “She’s just glad you’re safe. But you gotta promise me not to get kidnapped again okay buddy? Promise?”
Peter smiled. “Promise.”