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Tony gets a little bit messy, when it’s Peter in trouble.
He always attempts to stick to protocols, when he can, especially if he’s the one that makes them. He tries not to leave too much of a mess in his wake, whenever they’re on missions—the world’s been through enough lately, and the accords have been abolished but he still doesn’t want to go through all of that shit again, so he tries to hold himself and the team accountable when things happen.
But when it’s Peter.
When it’s Peter…
It’s pretty much anything goes. The right thing, the wrong thing, the incomprehensible thing. He’s never thinking straight when it’s Peter.
Tony blasts a door off its hinges and doesn’t care where it lands. He watches his own heart rate flash on the HUD like an afterthought. It’s going on twenty four hours since Peter went missing, twelve since they received the ransom demands for Spider-Man, and six since they figured out the location where he was being held on their own. They got here about ten minutes ago and Tony feels like he’s already destroyed six labs full of shit.
This place is rat-infested and tainted with rust and the air isn’t circulating right. He’s used to hearing the kid’s voice almost every hour of his waking moments, whether they’re together or he’s sending voice messages or they’re talking on the phone. You don’t lose someone for five years and not become completely enamored with everything about them in your time without them, especially if you’re Tony Stark, and he was already a huge Peter Parker fan before he dusted out of existence. So now he treats him like the prize pearl the Queen keeps by her bed at night. He’s got two kids now, one he and Pepper made and one he chose, and the one he chose is somewhere in this fucking building. Somewhere, possibly hurt, definitely kidnapped.
Tony has never liked villainous lairs, out of the principal of the thing, but also because they’re either some futuristic whitewash asylum bullshit, or they’re some horror movie blood-splatter rusted-out warehouse with too many dull knives hanging from the ceiling.
And this is the latter. With Peter missing, and here somewhere, that’s decidedly fucking worse.
Tony can’t even find it in himself to speak. Sometimes he gets so angry, so fearful, that he gets past the point of yelling and into the realm of repulsor blasts only, and he’s there now and he can hardly hear anything around him. Not the creaking of the building or the weighty pound of his own heart, only the voice in his head that he doesn’t want to hear that’s whispering he’s gone already he’s dead again he’s dead he’s dead he’s dead.
Tony moves through this dusty hallway, roaches skittering past titanium alloy feet, and he blasts open the next door, sending it slamming into the wall. There haven’t been any red shirts rocketing his way quite yet, no random assholes with guns defending their territory, and maybe that’s a little weird, maybe they’re hiding, but Tony knows he’ll be ready if they decide to poke their heads out. He’s plenty pissed enough for a fight.
Peter better not be dead. He can’t—he can’t be dead. That’s it, that’s all, not allowed, not again, and Tony feels half-insane with the thought of it, like he’s dehydrated and stuck out in the sweltering sun. Burn to death. Agony.
He steps into the next room. There are gurneys in here, straps and tools, and this is morphing the two villainous archetypes in his head into one mutant monster—rusty, broken-down asylum without all the clean white trimmings and newest torture gear. Just the old school methods, and yeah, that’s worse, and he wishes it would stop getting worse, because worse is worse is worse and if he hears Peter screaming bloody murder he’s afraid he’ll pass out before he can even get to him.
Friday keeps scanning as Tony sways through the room, feeling less like an imposing figure in the suit and more like a man stuffed in a trash can, moronic and useless. He’s getting the com chatter fed through in readable messages that he isn’t reading, and he knows Friday would alert if one of them said they found him, and she hasn’t yet, and she’s scanning and he’s still moving forward and he’s gotta find him, he’s gotta fucking find—
He’s there.
Peter.
Peter is on the ground in a torn-up spider suit, multiple long, steel chains attached to shackles on his arms, laying all around him in snake-like coils. He’s just lying there, face-down, and Tony feels like all the air is sucked from his lungs when he sees him like that. He’s maskless but Tony can’t see his face, only the blood in his hair, and he was questioning what he would do when he came upon him but he didn’t think he’d open the suit and get the fuck out of it, leaving himself exposed, but that’s what he does.
He just runs to him.
“Peter,” Tony breathes, and panic and panic and panic, he’s not moving, he’s just laying there, completely still. Tony rushes to him and stumbles over his own feet dropping down to his level, and he’s terrified, petrified, but he turns him over.
Peter groans and winces and smacks at him for a second, the chains rattling with his movements.
“Listen,” Peter says. “Listen. Just stop. Ok. It’s whatever. I’m gonna put you—with your pals.”
Tony narrows his eyes and tries to swallow his confusion. Peter’s eyes are essentially closed but he’s very much awake, giving Tony small little smacks without much force behind them. “Buddy,” Tony says, trying to grab onto his hands. “Hey. Hey, Pete, it’s me. It’s Tony. Look at me. Open those eyes.”
No mask. That’s not good. But he figured they probably would have taken it off. He just has to plan for this, plan for them having seen him and what they might have found out. Peter’s identity is precious and Tony has to protect it.
Peter opens his eyes, only a little bit so he’s still heavy-lidded. But his face lights up anyhow, and he claps his hands two times. “Oh man. Oh man. Tony. You dream? This you in the dream? The dream town? I was just—I was just there. I just came from there.” He tries to press his hands to the ground and push himself up, but he just bends his elbows a couple times instead
Tony narrows his eyes. “Bud, what did they give you? What’d they do to you? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“They gave me stuff,” Peter says, and he smiles, giggling. He scoots back a bit and lays down completely again, on his back this time, and he smashes the top of his head against the nearest wall so his neck is twisted uncomfortably.
“Pete,” Tony says, hand on his chest. “Don’t do that.”
“Stuff,” Peter says again, staring blankly at the ceiling. Tony doesn’t know what the hell to do, but he’s gotta get him out of here, that’s the priority. Especially before anybody comes back.
“Okay, Pete, I’m gonna carry you, okay?” Tony says, and he rubs his hand over the core of Peter’s chest. “We’re going. We’re going now.”
“Okay,” Peter says, and he grabs Tony’s wrist. “Okay but I’m actively escaping. At the moment. That’s what I’m doing, at the moment, and that’s what I’m doing. Right now.” He lets out a little huff. “So that’s what I’m doing.”
“Yup,” Tony says. “A bang-up job.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re really killing it.”
“I know.”
Tony is nervous, because the kid is slurring and he’s severely loopy and that can only mean drugs. Were they to keep him docile? Were they to fucking experiment on him? Tony’s not in the suit anymore so he can’t see his heart rate but he knows it’s probably skyrocketing.
“Hey,” Peter says, and he paws at him again, the chains dragging. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Tony says, refocusing on him and trying to formulate a plan. He’s still got the com in his ear and he remembers that, and he rests one hand on Peter’s shoulder and touches the com with his other. “Guys, I have him, rally to me please, I need assistance and a med pack ready on the quinjet. Helen on speed dial, please, I’m flipping the fuck out.”
He can’t hear them answering because he’s still getting it fed to the suit that he’s not wearing, and he doesn’t think to change that because Peter is grabbing at him and trying to pull him down.
“Hey,” Tony says, and he does lean over him, cupping his face with one hand. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay, Spidey, I’ve got you now, I found you. You’re with me.”
Peter’s eyes are wide and bloodshot but he’s smiling, just a little bit manic. He glances from side to side like he thinks somebody might be nearby. Then he makes eye contact again. “Hello,” he whispers.
“Hey,” Tony says back, patting his cheek.
“They—they gave me all these bracelets.”
Tony can’t help but snort at that, and he shakes his head. He leans down and hugs Peter to him so he can sit him up a bit, and he’s got the suit on sentry-backup, so if something happened, if somebody came in here, they should be protected. He’s hoping. His brain isn’t working right.
“Oh man,” Peter says, as Tony sits him up and leans him against the wall. “Strong. Strong man, like—like a—bodybuilder. Where’s the muscles? Hidden.”
“Wow, Pete,” Tony says, sitting back. He brushes his hands through Peter’s hair and straightens it out a bit, and runs his thumb over a cut on Peter’s cheekbone. “I know you’re messed up right now.”
“Goop.”
“—but can you tell me what happened? What’s going on? Is there anybody around?” Tony sits down next to him, close to him. He looks at the chains and the restraints and he gets pissed off, and he extends his hand towards the suit. The gauntlet flies off and wraps around his hand.
“Oh,” Peter says, and he’s slowly, but surely, tilting into Tony’s space. “Cool. Cool. Cool guy, you’re a cool guy, you know that. I’m not even asking because you know that.”
“You’re a cool guy,” Tony responds, and he wraps one arm around him as Peter tilts and faceplants into Tony’s shoulder, and he starts to burn into the chains and the manacles one by one so he can get them the hell off. “Make sure you can breathe, bud. Face up.”
Peter tilts more and just keeps tilting and sliding.
“Okay, hey, hey,” Tony says, twisting his arm until it’s out from under Peter, making sure he doesn’t get him with the laser. “Hey. We laying down? That what we’re doing?”
“We,” Peter says, and he’s draped across Tony’s lap now, a little twisted and blinking up at him. “Um. Yes. Lay down. Sorry, apologies, condolences.”
“It’s okay,” Tony says, and he doesn’t know if he’s doing the right thing right now, just sitting here, but he doesn’t think any bad guys are here and he doesn’t know why the fuck that is. But he’s got Peter and he’s tending to him and the others are heading this way.
He can hear his own heart now. Can hear the storm of panic in it.
Peter reaches up and paws at Tony’s face.
One chain drops off his arm and collapses, and Peter smiles, still pawing at him.
“Removing the bracelets,” Peter says.
“Yes,” Tony says, trying to see around Peter’s hand, not chastising him for it. “They’re not your style.”
“I know,” Peter says. His hand drops back down and he lays there for a second as Tony works, and he’s blinking and breathing through his mouth. “So they said that like. Okay so in the before times, before the pink brain—that’s now.”
“Got it,” Tony says, getting another shackle off.
“I was like ohhh can’t catch me! But like, they did.” And he snorts, his face crumbling with laugher, and he shakes his head. “Anyways I was still like, wooooo you know, and I could break the bracelets no problem, and I was doing that, but then they stabbed me in the arm with a big dentist needle and then I died.”
Tony makes eye contact with him. “You did not die.”
“They said I did.”
“Well, you didn’t,” Tony says, mouth dry, still staring at him.
“Okay but they were like ahh he’s coding! and like, Grey’s Anatomy terms—May’s show—and then like you know. Dark.”
Tony stares at him, feeling buzzy and frozen and sick.
“But then like I woke up like this and I killed everybody—”
“Nope,” Tony says, shaking his head. “You didn’t do that either.”
“I did,” Peter says, nodding. “I did so.”
“Nope. You wouldn’t. Not my Pete.”
Peter’s face falls then, his eyebrows furrowing severely. “But I am your Pete,” he says, with such emphasis and worry that it makes Tony’s heart catapult out of his chest.
“I know,” Tony says, feeling a bit teary, and he quickly lasers through the last chain on Peter’s right arm without catching the suit. “Which is why you didn’t kill anybody. Even if I wanted to kill some guys that were messing with you, you wouldn’t let me.”
Peter stares at him. “Okay well I got ‘em all. I don’t know. It happened. I was like boom swish and they’re in a pile somewhere I don’t know. But one big guy like—okay so there were already bracelets and then some big guy saw the boom swish and then slam bang me into the wall and gave me more bracelets but then I like, I think I broke up and I knocked him back and kicked him in the face and bounced around on some stairs—I don’t know—but then he was gone and I was crawling like a sea turtle and then there was dream town and then there you were.”
Tony starts working on Peter’s other arm. He’s bruised all over and bloody and Tony is just trying to keep calm. “Did they do anything else to you?” he asks. “Did they hurt you, Peter? Break anything?” He needs to get back into the suit and check, but he needs to get these off of him first.
“Um,” Peter says, watching the laser work. “No. They were threatening. Evil monologues. Um. They said they were gonna tear my heart out. And smash my skull. I think. I don’t really remember those things happening.”
“They didn’t,” Tony says, and another chain drops. One more to go. “Did they say your name? Or anything about May or your friends?”
Peter shakes his head. “And stay out!” he says.
“Good,” Tony says, though he can’t exactly take Peter’s word for it right now. “Okay. I’ve got you. Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Peter says, but when he grins, there’s blood in his teeth.
Tony blows out a breath, holding his arm gently with the hand that isn’t wearing the gauntlet, and he keeps working. He can feel himself getting emotional and he knows he shouldn’t because the kid doesn’t have the mental capacity for it right now, but the words start to come out before he signs off on them.
“You scared me,” he says. “Being gone for this long, and then these assholes saying they had you, but not telling us where. Jesus, Pete.” The last chain falls off unceremoniously, and Tony doesn’t even want to think about what they were planning. He’s just praying whatever the hell they gave Peter is just a mega-dose of loopy juice and not anything that has effects past that.
Peter lays there, staring up at him all sideways. Tony holds onto his arm and Peter puts his hand on top of Tony’s.
“You,” Peter says. “Are the best. Biggest heart. Favorite person. The most safe—you make me—the most safe, you’re always—rescuer, save—always save me from dumb—dumb stuff, dumb guys, May—trusts you even if she yells and and and MJ and Ned—love you and trust you with me and MJ doesn’t trust anybody with me and I—I love you so much you don’t even understand and my brain is pink right now but I can see everything like all of the world at the same time.”
“Oh yeah?” Tony asks, gently, smiling warmly at him.
“Yeah,” Peter says. He wiggles away like a fish on a dock and when he sits up he does it too fast, like he was still expecting to have the weight of the chains on him, and he launches himself back into the wall.
“Jesus, buddy,” Tony says, quickly scooting over there, and as soon as he’s within arm’s length of him, Peter falls forward and tucks his head under Tony’s chin. He cuddles up close and holds his own hands close to his chest, like a tiny mouse, and Tony sighs and wraps his arms around him. “Okay,” Tony says. “Alright.”
“I can see all the future and the past.”
“Oh yeah?” Tony asks again, rubbing his shoulder. “What are we having for dinner?”
“Taco Viva.”
“I’m pretty sure Taco Viva closed before you were even born,” Tony says.
“But I can see that I love you forever and you love me forever and also we’re both immortal,” Peter says, with a small sigh. “And there are tacos. But I love you forever. And thank you. And you’re the best and I knew you would come and it was gonna be okay and I wasn’t even worried because you’ll always come for me because you love me and that’s awesome and hooray.”
Tony shakes his head, a tear rolling down his cheek, and he hugs Peter a little closer, wondering where the fuck the rest of them are and if he cares about them seeing him like this.
He decides that he doesn’t.
“I do love you,” Tony says. “Which is why if you didn’t kill the guys that did this, which I know you didn’t, I am going to.”
“Don’t kill,” Peter says. “I’m also gonna go to sleep. If that’s fine. If that’s cool. Escape accomplished. Done. Did it.”
“Don’t go to sleep,” Tony says, pulling him back and holding him by the shoulders.
Peter looks at him like he’s insane, sneering a little bit. “But sun baby,” he says, and that’s all he says.
“Yes,” Tony says, patting his head. “You are a sun baby.”
“Sun rays are damaging.”
“Yes,” Tony says, pulling him in again, but this time to pull him to his feet.
“Oh man oh man oh man,” Peter says, leaning on him heavily. “That’s. That’s the world moving. That’s what that is. Equator, astro. We’re on the move.”
“Yes we are, Webs,” Tony says, arm around his middle. Peter seems to be balancing okay right now, but he’s half-collapsed against Tony’s side, and that’s how Sam and Thor find them when they rush into the room.
“Is he alright?” Sam asks, sounding worried, which isn’t something Tony’s used to.
Peter sticks his thumb up but doesn’t say anything.
“He does not look alright,” Thor says, eyes wary.
“He’s drugged up to his eyebrows,” Tony says, rubbing Peter’s shoulder. “Where the hell is everybody else?”
“Steve and Nat found a huge pile of guys in the third floor atrium,” Sam says. “They were all knocked out, so he woke one of ‘em up and was making sure everything was cleared out, trying to figure out what the hell they were here for and why they took Peter.”
“Young Mr. Parker here bested at least forty men,” Thor says, beaming. “And if he did it in this low-level state, it’s quite a feat to be proud of. For you and him both, Tony.”
Tony can’t help it and smiles, and Peter pulls back to smile at him. He’s shaking like he’s on an off-rail train.
“Proud of me?” Peter asks.
“Always,” Tony says. “But I told you you didn’t kill them.”
Peter just smiles, closing his eyes and resting his head on Tony’s shoulder again.
“Poor little man,” Thor says, brows furrowed.
“I got Helen ready to assess on the quinjet, Stark,” Sam says.
“I need a grilled cheese,” Peter says, turning his face so his voice is a little muffled. “And I need. Mask. And to wear Iron Man suit. Be in it. Be in there. Control of it. Me.”
Tony snorts. “Mmm, maybe not right now,” he says, approaching the suit and trying to keep Peter on his feet. He doesn’t know where the hell his mask is, but that’ll be a job for the cleanup crew. “Let’s get you to the jet and make sure you’re all good, and then we’ll talk joy rides.”
“Joy!” Peter nearly yells, feet sliding out from under him. “You fill me with joy! Tony. Tony.”
Tony shakes his head. “You fill me with joy too, buddy,” he says. “But no more Spider-Man kidnappings. That does not spark joy.”
“Okay, Miss Marie,” Peter says, patting the suit on the shoulder in greeting.
Tony doesn’t understand how the kid can be this endearing when he’s drugged out of his mind, but then again it isn’t so surprising.
After all, he’s endearing most of the time. When he isn’t trying to get himself killed.
And somehow, even then…
Tony sighs, and ruffles Peter’s hair one more time before he gets back inside the suit.