Chapter Text
“So, where are we landing the jet?” Peter asks Mr. Stark. They’re both strapped in, the violent wind shaking the plane, as explosions and flashing lights make their way through the windows. “Steve went over everything in brief, except where we land. I’d like to be prepared.”
Peter was trying to seem like, well, a hero. He knew the rest of the team knew he was young, but they didn’t know his actual age, so Peter was busy trying to grow mature. Seeming like he knew exactly what he was doing, even if he was scared of his strength half the time. And right then, he wanted to know how they were getting from the plane to the battlefield below them. Because he wanted to impress them, standing ready at the ramp to throw the first punch.
Don’t hold back, the Captain had told him. Don’t hold back, so Spider-man wasn’t going to hold back.
“Land the plane?” Mr. Stark asks, his voice louder to get through the noise of the jet. “We’re not landing kid. We’re jumping.”
Peter’s heart skips a beat. Jumping? Seriously? Mr. Stark could do it, sure. He had a flying suit. Thor could too, him and his hammer. But the rest of them? Surely, they had to land somewhere. But then Peter looks around the room, heavy backpacks waiting. Parachutes. Like the one that lived in Peter’s suit.
He’s glad right then that Mr. Stark can’t see his face under the mask, because Peter knows he’s paler than normal. Can feel his heart beat a little faster. But this was a good thing too, a chance to gain much-needed experience, with the best team on the planet. Peter wasn’t scared of the highest anymore either, he’d claimed the tallest building he could find in New York, and he’d taken a leap of faith. Because he’d needed to be brave.
He'd needed to prove he could be brave. For Ben.
“So uh…” Peter waves at the bags, “Am I getting one too, or just using the one in the suit?” He asks. He wanted to ask so much more. He’d only ever used the parachute in his suit once, Karen had activated it when he’d gotten dropped headfirst into a cold river. He knew Mr. Stark had reloaded it, but he didn’t know how much control he had over it.
“You’re getting one,” Mr. Stark confirms, grabbing a backpack and offering Peter a hand to get it on his back. “Not too tight?” Mr. Stark asks, and when Peter shakes his head, Mr. Stark clicks the clasp on the front. Then points to a line, “I’ll give you your signal, then you pull this. If anything goes wrong, Karen has you.” His mentor assures.
Something is reassuring in knowing that Peter had a backup if something goes wrong. Because suddenly, he isn’t sure about the Hight thing at all. (He’ll be fine, he knows he will, it’s just his brain playing tricks on him.) “Got it,” Peter confirms with a nod, fingers running over the line.
Soon enough, the rest of the team without wings pulls on their parachutes too. Ready to jump out, and land right in the middle of the battlefield.
It wasn’t the first time Peter had been on a mission with the Avengers, but this was so far, the coolest.
It’s a breathtaking view over a snow-covered mountain and fields when the jet’s ramp opens up and reveals the world beyond. Soft white puffs of snow are still falling from the sky, as the sun rises on the horizon. Peter takes a deep breath of cold air, feeling it bite in his lungs and the cold breeze sending a shiver of cold and excitement through him.
“Activating heater,” Karan announces, and a few moments later the suit heats up, blocking out the cold weather. But it doesn’t make it any less beautiful.
Those with wings and suits leave the plane first, having the best chance of clearing a safety zone for the rest of them. Peter watches in awe as Sam just leaps out of the plane and drops for a full thirty seconds, before activating his wings. As Rhodey in the War Machine armor blasts off. Thor twirls his hammer, before getting in the air, lightning and thunder bursting from the sky above and below them. Mr. Stark pads him on the shoulder, “I’ll see you on the ground, Underoos.” Then he too flies off.
The plane turns slightly to circle in the air. It’s another few minutes before they get a signal from the ground, and the rest of the team gets to follow suit.
Karan pulls up a large number in the corner of the HUD, telling Peter they’re at just below 10000 feet. Giving them a good 40 seconds of free falling. Peter takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. It’s just like swinging… Just like swinging…
“You ready?” Steve asks him and Bucky standing ready to be the first pair to jump. Followed by Natasha and Peter. Clint is staying behind to either keep the plane in the air or find a suitable place to land the quinjet.
Peter gives a nod, “Ready.” He confirms.
Steve and Bucky take their jump, and Natasha steps forward to get ready. She gives Peter a reassuring smile over her shoulder, offering him a hand. Peter takes it, together.
He doesn’t know how he manages to get his feet moving forward, off the edge. But suddenly he’s freefalling through the air together with Natasha. The wind was blowing loudly in his ears, preventing him from hearing the computer system very well. Karan’s numbers dropped quickly.
“9500… 8000… 7000… 6000… 6500… Prepare to deploy.” Karan’s voice speaks right into his ear. Louder than normal.
The ground below them nears quickly, but they’re still high enough that everything looks impossibly tiny. So, not like swinging. Not at all like swinging… But looking up to catch Natasha’s eyes, snowflakes falling into her long red hair, Peter forgets to be scared. He’s focused. Taking deep breaths, in and out, ready to join the fight.
Below them, he can see Bucky and Steve’s parachute having opened. Colorful patches in the sky.
Natasha reaches for her line and deploys it. “5000,” Karan announces, and Peter pulls his line too. Feeling himself slow down seconds later, as the red and blue fabric opens above him. There’s a thrill surging through his body, his heart pounding with happiness. Once they’re both safely descending Natasha gives Peter a thumbs up.
They can see the battlefield now. At the edge of a snow-covered forest, pine trees hold a thick blanket of snow along its branches. Hydra soldiers and agents with guns and throwing powerful punches. But none of it stands a chance against the Avengers. Metal suits and super soldiers.
Peter barely has his feet on the ground, disconnecting from the parachute, before his Spidey sense is in full work. Budging to the side and catching the attacker’s hand in his strong grasp. “That’s not fair, I wasn’t ready!” Peter chippers, doing a flip to send to man into the ground, and sticking him there with two solid webs, one over each hand, “Time out for you, since you can’t play nice.”
As a gun is shoved against his back, Peter prepares to do a roll rick, when Mr. Stark lands beside him and shoots one powerful, bright blue repulse right in the face of the Hydra member. The guy collapses to the ground, his perfect black uniform becoming dirty. “How was it?” Mr. Stark’s voice comes slightly robotic through the Iron Man asks.
“How was it?” Peter splutters, “I free fell, from 10000 feet! It was… waow…”
Mr. Stark chuckles and shoots another repulse beam. Peter follows it with a solid web in the chest, sticking another Hydra face to the ground. Taking them out, one at a time.
“Keep it up kid,” Mr. Stark says and gets back into the air with a powerful blast. Peter can feel the heat and the pressure as Mr. Stark disappears across the battlefield. It reminds him and when he was a kid, cheering on these heroes, watching them on the boxy TV in Ben and May’s apartment.
The battle goes on.
Steve and Bucky are a well-oiled machine together, just like described in the history books. Powerful. Bucky covers Steve with the fire of a machine gun, while Steve takes agents down in a single punch, with unstoppable force.
Natasha flips across the battlefield, landing elegantly on people’s backs. Her legs wrapped around their neck and pulled them backward to the ground, other times sending powerful electric shocks through their bodies.
Rhodey, Mr. Stark, and Sam have the high ground – literally. A bird’s eyes view. Calling out warnings when unseen enemies attack, thought Peter’s Spidey-sense is a little faster. Sending powerful beams of light and burning fire from the suits. Sam sliced through attacks with his wings like they were butter, leaving large gashes on their sides.
Above them, Clint keeps the jet circling. The roar of the engine close by offers a bit of safety. They can get away if they need to. They can get back up if they need it.
It’s inspiring being a part of that team, fighting side by side with them. So, Peter pushes himself harder, probably harder than he’d ever done before. Shoot web, pull, hit. Web bomb, dodge, catch fist, web. Shoot web on Iron Man’s boot, fly, detach midair, punch. Sending people into the ground with jaw-breaking moves. Barely wasting time to take a breath for himself.
Peter feels it, of course. That he’s getting exhausted. But he doesn’t mind. It’s a pleasant feeling in his body, and they’re so close to the entrance of the hydra base. He can keep going.
As his Spidey sense blares out, Peter twists around on his heels, just in time to intercept another hit. “I think you need a little aiming practice,” Peter comments, “I’m sure Cap would love to help you if you ask nicely.”
The attacker throws his loose hand on Peter’s head then, and Peter grasps it too, millimeters from his face. His muscles are starting to strain just a little. “Or maybe not.”
When his Spidey sense alerts him again, he doesn’t have time to react. Hands still used to control the man before him. He sees the flash as the blade glitters in the sunlight, and then a burning pain spreads through his abdomen, as the blade digs deep into his side.
Peter’s grasp falters, and he staggers backward taking shallow, quick breaths. But the man with the knife pulls him back in, fingers wrapping in the spandex of Peter’s suit, as the knife is pulled back out. Hurting even more coming out…
“Injury detected. Boss has been notified.” Karan’s voice informs Peter, but his vision is already blurry as he uses his strength to push the back away. Backwards. Falling over a rock, and into the first attack. Both hit the ground in a cluttered mess, giving Peter just enough time to flee.
He settles behind a thick tree, a few hundred meters from the main battle. His heart pounding from his run, adrenaline still surging through every vein. “Karan…” He rasps out, “How bad is it?” Peter isn’t usually scared of blood, he’d taken more than one hit while on patrol, and back before Mr. Stark, he’d stitched up many of those wounds on his own, with little issue. Even if it hurt. But something like this felt worse. A lot worse.
“My sense doesn’t indicate any internal injuries,” Karan responds. “Kidney, liver, intestine, stomach, bladder, and pancreas all remain intact.”
“Good…” Peter nods to himself, voice breathless and strained. “That’s good…”
He takes a deep breath before he finally looks down at his stomach. The suit is torn clean where the knife had cut through. Soaked in dark red blood, wet and sticky against his skin. And the cut itself is deep, it might not have hit vital organs, but it’s bleeding badly.
Peter moves his hands to cover the wound, pressing down as much as he can. But it’s easier to do on someone else than yourself, and he struggles to get the weight and pressure right.
He can feel the flood loss already, the dizziness that comes with it. A familiar discomfort as his life fluids seeps out of him, and into the ground below. As fatigue sneaks up on him, he feels his eyelids grow heavy. Like cement blocks. Pulling them close.
Peter forces them open, “Karen… When… when is Mr. Stark going to be here…?” He slurs.
“Boss is en route,” Karan tells him, patching the feet of the Iron Man suit through to Peter. The battlefield is in flames, and people are knocked out or webbed to the ground. Heroes with scratches and bruises and bumps. “Please take deep breaths, Peter, your breathing is quite shallow.”
That’s the pain, Peter wants to respond, but it comes out as gibberish. His lips feel weirdly numb. His whole body feels numb and cold.
“I think… I’m just gonna…” Peter’s whole world tilts to the side and his pressure on the wound slips as he lands in the forest mud. His cheek was wet and cold and dirty. He can’t fight it this time when the weight pulls his eyes closed, so void fills his vision.
***
Tony reaches the jet in record time, carrying Peter’s limp body tightly in his arms. Clenched against the cold metal armor. Tony had never before wished he could touch someone directly, as much as in this moment, but he didn’t have time. He couldn’t trust what the AI was telling him, that Peter would be fine with treatment… Because Tony had seen him get stabbed.
(He hadn’t trusted doctors when Pepper got injected with the battered serum either. When she’d fallen into the ocean of flames below.)
“Get the goddamn medical kit!” Tony shouts, landing on the ramp with a metallic thud.
But he doesn’t need to say it, Clint’s already there – jet on autopilot – with a big medical kit open. Gauze and disinfectant. Ready to stuff the wound and stop the bleeding, long enough for them to reach the medical bay and get Peter stitched up. Or better yet, long enough for the kid’s healing abilities to kick in.
They get Peter situated on one of the cots they keep on the jet, but rarely ever use. Tony lets Clint take control of the first aid, Tony isn’t very good at it, and he can feel his hands shaking. Hidden only thanks to the armor.
Instead Tony steps out of his armor. Letting the casing open around him, releasing him.
A groan of pain makes it past Peter’s lips, his eyes fluttering at Clint's works. Stuffing the wound with gauze is painful, but necessary. Tony reaches out to squeeze Peter’s shoulder. “It’s okay, you did good. You’ll be fine in just a moment.” He assures. Partially for Peter’s shake, and partially for his own. Deep breaths. Everything was going to be fine.
“That’s it,” Clint says after a long moment, the rest of the team starts to join them. Rhodey, Sam, and Thor each carrying a nonflying member of the attack ground. “Tower, or helicarrier?”
Tony bit his lip hard, he didn’t like the idea of going to the helicarrier. Peter’s identity was secret for now, but it wouldn’t be if they went to SHIELD. They’d remove the mask before Tony could count to three, and the kid would kill him.
But on the other hand, they were better off with treatment sooner rather than later. It wasn’t like Peter could just receive a blood transfusion, and Tony wasn’t sure they’d collected a big enough supply at the tower yet.
Damn enhanced radioactive blood.
“If your daughter was secretly a superhero, would you trust SHIELD?” Tony asks Clint stupidly.
Clint’s eyes widen, and the rest of the teams do too. “Okay, no, stupid question. He’s like 14-“
“15.” Peter corrects weakly, seeming to hide the pain from his voice the best he could. Which wasn’t great, but Tony wasn’t about to tell him that. The kid didn’t need to know that they could see his pained expression through the mask. At least not right now.
“15,” Tony corrects with a shrug, “Nobody can see his face. Nobody. Not a single person.” He warns, making sure to make himself clear.
He can picture it. Some half-assed, young, naïve SHIELD agent or nurse not knowing any better. It starts with a photo, then a name, and before they knew it his identity would be all over the web. And Peter’s life, May’s life, would be forever changed. There wouldn’t be anything Tony could do about it. While it might have been fine for an adult, not to go to high school, and be able to stand up for themselves… Peter wasn’t an adult. Peter was a teen, trying to do good, and not always succeeding, but he was getting there. One step at a time.
Clint nods slowly, “I’d trust me, we trust them.” He waves at Natasha who nods in agreement.
“Helicarrier,” Tony agrees reluctantly.