Underwater
‘Please, I need help!’
The woman was kneeling at the edge of the bridge, her eyes fixed on the East River, which, in the September sun, looked like a ribbon of lead.
Peter leapt towards her.
‘Is everything all right, ma’am?’
She looked up, surprised. A glimmer of hope blossomed on her face when she recognized his blue and red costume, through it didn’t erase the terror in her eyes.
‘Spider-Man! Oh, thank goodness you're here! My son— he fell off the bridge! He's only nine, he can barely swim... Please, you have to save him!’
‘Right away, ma’am!’
Without hesitation, Peter dived into the canal, silently thanking his suit for protecting him from the biting cold with its built-in thermal system.
‘Karen’ he called out as he broke the surface to take a breath. ’We're looking for a little boy who may have fallen into the canal. Do you see anything?’
‘I do,’ the AI replied. ‘There is someone underwater, fifteen meters to your left. Based on his height and weight, it’s a child. You have exactly twenty seconds to bring him to the surface before his chances of survival drastically decrease.’
‘Drastically?’
‘Approximately ninety-nine percent.’
‘Ah!’
He swam immediately in the direction indicated, spotting a dark shape struggling in the murky waters. Kicking hard, he reached the child and wrapped his arms around him, then propelled them both toward the surface.
As soon as their heads broke through the water, Peter inhaled a deep breath of life-saving oxygen. To his great relief, he heard the little boy do the same. Holding him tightly, he swam toward the shore.
‘It's okay,’ he said gently, hoping to calm the sobs shaking the child's chest. ’I’ve got you, you’re safe now.’
‘Sp-sp-spider-man?’
The boy sniffled.
‘Is it... is it really you?’
‘It's really me. You've unmasked me,’ Peter smiled kindly. ’Spider-Man, at your service. What's your name, buddy?’
‘N-Noah.’
‘Noah? That's a great name. We're almost there, okay? Just hold on tight.’
They reached the shore in a spray of water. Peter carefully set the child down on solid ground before pulling himself out of the river. In the distance, he saw Noah's mother rushing towards the stairs that connected the bridge to the quay where they were standing.
‘Your mom will be here soon,’ he assured the child, who nodded while wiping his tear-streaked eyes. ’In the meantime, do you think you can tell me how you ended up in there? That must’ve been quite the fall.’
‘It's T-T-Teddy...’ replied the child, starting to sob again. ‘He slipped into the water, and I wa-wa-wanted to s-s-save him...’
‘Teddy?’
‘It's my teddy bear.’
Peter exhaled slowly. ‘Right. That makes sense.’
‘It fell when I went to the edge of the bridge to take a picture for mum, and—and—I just wanted to get it back... You know, it’s my grandpa— I mean, my grandad gave it to me...’
His voice cracked again.
‘Oh. Okay. Don't worry, Noah. We’ll find Teddy, all right?… Karen?’
‘Peter?’ the AI responded, in that suspicious tone that Tony Stark had no doubt programmed for situations like this.
‘Do you see any teddy bears in the water?’
There was a brief moment of silence before the AI responded:
‘I currently detect three objects that could match the description, but they are out of reach for—’
‘Great, thanks Karen.’
He turned back to Noah.
‘I’m going to go get Teddy. You stay right here, okay, buddy?’
The boy, his eyes still red from crying, nodded with a hopeful sniffle.
And Peter dived back into the canal.
As he descended into the murky depths, he spotted a whole graveyard of discarded objects, accumulated over decades. Crates, tires, bottles… A bizarre underwater junkyard.
Ignoring the eerie greenish glow from pockets of light filtering though the water, he scanned the area. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when Karen’s voice suddenly blared in his ear.
‘Peter, based on the average lung capacity of an American citizen your age, you are approaching the limit of safe apnea duration.’
No kidding.
Just then, Peter spotted the fluffy outline of a teddy bear wedged between two rusted computer monitors (how had they got there?). He reached out to grab it—
Something yanked at his ankle.
Seriously?
He looked down. A half-rotten fishing net, tangled with shells, has ensnared his foot. Gritting his teeth, he fought to free himself, Karen’s warnings growing more urgent.
‘Peter, you need to surface immediately!’
Yeah, yeah, I got it.
‘Peter, you won't be able to hold your breath for much longer. You have to come up to the surface immediately.’
No kidding, Karen.
Finally, with a sharp tug, he freed himself. But when he turned back—
Shit, shit, shit!
The teddy bear was gone.
‘Peter!’
His lungs burned, exhaustion was setting in. His vision blurred, black spots danced at the edges.
‘Emergency call,’ Karen's voice became a distant echo. ‘Call Tony... protocol…’
Air... he needed air...
Instinct overcame reason.
He opened his mouth, letting water rushed in.
OOO
Steel hands pressed against his chest.
Once. Twice. Three times.
‘Come on, Pete, come on...’
Four. Five. Six.
‘Breathe, kid…’
Seven. Eight. Nine.
Suddenly, something rose up his throat and he began to spit, blow, cough and throw up all at the same time.
Someone rolled him onto his side, making sure he didn’t choke. His entire body shuddered, lungs and throat burning.
‘I-I…’ He wheezed.
‘Shhh. Don't try to talk. Just breathe.’
A hand raked through his wet hair, pushing it from his forehead.
That’s when he realized—his mask was gone. Panicked, his hands flew to his face, but a firm grip caught his wrist.
‘Don't move,’ a calm voice instructed.
Peter blinked up at the blurry outline of his rescuer.
‘Mr... Mr. Stark?’
‘In the flesh.’
He coughed again. A flicked of concern flashed across Tony Stark’s face.
‘Easy, kid. Don’t throw up again on me, please.’
‘Wh-what... what are you doing here?’
‘Mmmh, let’s think... saving your life?’
Peter winced again.
‘Karen called me. Something about you drowning. Sound familiar?’
Peter’s thoughts were still sluggish, but realization dawned.
‘You... came? Why not just send a suit like last time?’
Tony snorted. ‘Maybe because I'm your legal guardian? Or because despite all my genius, I haven’t invented a suit than can do mouth-to-mouth?’
‘Mouth-to-what?’
Peter ran his fingers over his lips, horrified.
‘You... you gave me mouth-to-mouth?’
‘Yeah, yeah, let’s not make a big deal out of it. You're soaked, and I think the most important thing for you (and for me) is to get you home, not to dwell on the moment when my saliva actually went into your mouth to bring you back to life.’
‘Eww...’
Tony rolled his eyes. ‘You’re welcome.‘
Peter tried to stand, still wobbly, and glanced around.
They were on the roof of a building, Iron Man's suit standing a few steps away from them, sparkling in the cold sunlight.
‘Noah. Where is he?’ Peter suddenly gasped.
‘You mean the child you pulled out of the canal, before diving back in immediately for some completely obscure reason that I'm not sure I want to find out about? He's fine. His mother picked him up. Unlike some people, he didn’t decide to check if gills would grow after ten minutes underwater. And if you want to know the whole truth, the answer is definitely no.’
‘I had to find Teddy!’
Tony raised an eyebrow with such virtuosity that Peter would have bet he had practiced in front of his mirror.
‘The bear,’ Peter insisted. ‘Noah's bear, I mean. He had fallen into the canal. I had to get him back.’
‘Wait.’
Tony raised his hand to interrupt, disbelief deepening the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
‘Let me get this straight. You almost drowned for a stuffed animal?’
‘Teddy.’ Peter corrected weakly. ‘His name is Teddy.’
‘Answer me. You almost died for a fucking STUFFED ANIMAL?’
Peter tried to smile, but Tony's stern gaze told him that his attempt was doomed to failure.
‘Er... Yes?’
OOO
‘You are forbidden to go near any source of water for the next two months,’ Tony told him as soon as they arrived in his room. ‘Otherwise, I'll take your suit back, and this time, nothing will convince me to return it. Understood?’
Despite Peter's protests, Tony had carried him all the way to Stark Tower, refusing to let him use his webs to get there.
He hadn't said a word during the trip, clearly trying to come to terms with the fact that Peter had risked his life for a simple teddy bear. Peter had decided it was best to stay quiet, but Tony's ‘punishment’ made him find his voice again.
‘No source of water?’ he repeated, eyes widening. ’But that's impossible! New York is surrounded by water! And... does the skating rink count? Technically, it's water, even if it's frozen. What about the municipal swimming pool? There’s one not far from here. And when you say I'm not allowed to go near water, do you have a specific distance in mind? A hundred meters? Two hundred meters?
‘For God's sake, Peter. Just... no more East River for you.’
Then, before Peter had time to protest:
‘Are you all right?’
‘Oh, I'm fine. I recover quickly.’
It was true. It had only taken him about five minutes for the burning sensation to disappear and for his lungs to start functioning normally again. Thanks to his healing abilities, he would even escape the severe cold that would have bedridden anyone else in his place.
But he had other concerns:
‘If I'm no longer allowed near the East River, what do I do if another child drowns there? I can't just stand by and watch!’
‘Call a coast guard or any other qualified person. Or better yet, call me, and I'll take care of it.’
‘But what if—’
‘All right, are you done? Perfect, see you at dinner. Bye Pete.’
‘But, Mr Stark—!!’
OOO
Water. All around him.
On him.
In his mouth, in his eyes, in his lungs.
He reaches out, tries to grab the child, but he keeps slipping through his fingers.His eyes are wide open in the greenish darkness of the canal, staring at him without seeing him. Karen's voice echoes in the distance, but Peter cannot understand what she is saying. Her words jumble together, forming an impossible pattern to decipher.
He can no longer breathe. His lungs are about to burst, but he cannot rise to the surface.
He must save the child.
Then he realizes—his hand is bare. He touches his face and finds his mask is gone.
He is no longer Spider-Man. He is only Peter Parker. And he is drowning...
There is water, water everywhere...
It is crushing him, holding him down...
‘Pete?’
He can't breathe...
‘Peter, wake up. Peter!’
His eyes snapped open, and he found himself face to face with Tony. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a horse at full galop; his whole body trembled, fear coursing through his veins in an icy wave.
‘Mr. Stark, I can't breathe—there's water everywhere—please help me...’ Peter stammered, until Tony took his face in his hands and forced him to look him in the eye.
‘Peter, look at me. There's no water. We're in your room, at Stark Tower. You're not drowning. You're with me.’
‘But I... I...’
His sheets were soaked, yet Mr. Stark was right: he was in his bed. In his room. A soft, dim light filled the space, casting an orange glow over Mr Stark's worried face.
‘Are you with me, Pete?’
He nodded slightly, looking down at his wet sheets. But how could they be wet when—.
Oh.
A wave of shame crashed over him, burning his face. Before he could stop it, a tear rolled down his cheek.
‘Hey, it's okay, Spidey. Don't cry.’
He wanted to crawl into a hole. Disappear into a wall. Disappear altogether. He had never felt so humiliated in his life.
‘I've been through much worse, believe me. You don't know what a drunk man can do,’ Tony said in a surprisingly gentle voice as he sat down on a relatively dry part of the mattress and placed a firm but reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder.
‘I-I-I'm sorry, I'll clean it up...’
‘Shhh. Look at me, Pete.’
He obeyed reluctantly, afraid of detecting mockery or —worse— disappointment in his mentor's dark eyes.
But there was none of that in Tony’s gaze. A hint of sadness, perhaps, mixed with something that almost resembled sympathy. This realization made Pete’s sobs double, and he fought the urge to curl up against the man, to bury his face in his shoulder in search of warmth and, maybe, the kind of tender embrace May would give him when he woke up crying after a nightmare...
But Tony wasn't the kind of man to give out hugs like free samples, so Peter stayed still, struggling to swallow his tears of shame.
‘You haven't done anything wrong. All right?’ Tony whispered, as if he could see the distress in Peter's eyes.
Peter nodded, sniffing.
‘You haven't done anything wrong,’ Tony repeated. Then, after a bried silence: ’Do you think you can get up?’
Peter nodded again and swung his unsteady legs to the floor.
‘Go take a shower, I'll take care of the rest.’
‘But... but...’
‘Come on, chop chop!’
His tone left no room for argument.
Peter stripped off his wet clothes and slipped into the shower. He turned the water on full blast, as if the heat could somehow wash away the humiliation burning in his chest. He scrubbed himself quickly, but jumped when the water hit his hair. He wasn’t ready to submerge his head just yet. Not now. Not tonight.
When he got out, clean pajamas were waiting for him. He quickly put them on, surprised to find Tony still in his room, sitting in an armchair he had pulled close to the bed. The sheets had been changed, now carrying the fresh scent of laundry detergent.
‘Thank you, Mr Stark,’ Peter whispered as he slipped under the covers. ’I'm really sorry about... all this. It hasn't happened to me in… at least ten years?’
‘Don't worry, kid, it's not the end of the world. I told you—I did much worse at your age. If he were still alive, my father would be delighted to confirm it for you.’
Peter couldn't suppress a small smile as he glanced at Tony, who smirked at him.
‘What were you doing at my age?’
‘Mmmh, let's save that story for another night, okay?’
‘Oh, come on, Mr. Stark!’
Tony didn't reply, instead fiddling with the edges of the bed. It took Peter a moment to realize he was tucking him in. A warm feeling bloomed in his chest, chasing away the shame that had clung to his heart and poisoned his thoughts. May used to tuck him in every night, but he had never expected Mr Stark to do the same.
Beyond that, he had never expected Mr. Stark to show the slightest ounce of tenderness towards him.
He tensed when his Tony’s hand landed hesitantly on his forehead, gently pushing back a few stray curls.
‘How do you feel?’
‘I'm fine,’ Peter answered honestly, surprising himself. ‘Really.’
As long as you're here, I'm fine.
After a moment, Tony murmured:
‘That thing you did for that little boy... That teddy bear story..’
‘It was stupid. I know.’
‘Yes. But it was also... heroic, in a way.’
Peter raised an eyebrows. Tony smirked.
‘Just save your heroics for humans next time, okay?’
Peter nodded and closed his eyes. He felt infinitely better than before.
Tony's hand in his hair was reassuring. Soothing.
‘What about the cats?’ Peter mumbled sleepily.
‘And for cats, if you insist.
‘And for dogs? Birds? Foxes?’
‘Are you planning to recite Noah's Ark to me?’
‘Sorry… But can I save animals?’
‘If you want. Just don't risk your life for inanimate objects. If I have to give you mouth-to-mouth again... let's just say I'm too old for that kind of scare.’
‘Mmmh. You’re the one who said it,’ Peter whispered.
‘Tsss. Sleep.’
‘Mmmmhhh... about that mouth-to-mouth, if we could just forget about it...’
‘Good night, kid.’
He thought he felt a kiss brush against his hair, but maybe it was just his imagination. Sleep slowly took over, wrapping him in a soft, cottony veil.
But this time, with Tony by his side, he knew he wouldn't have nightmares.