Aren't I the one who just saved your ass?
Steve hit the ground hard, making his body rattle. He quickly shot back up to his feet, already seeing two masked men running at him. One hit from his shield and he’d knocked the two of them down easily, moving right along. This was nothing new for him— just the same old goons, trying to save something that was long gone. People tried to start it back up a hundred times, but they never got far. At least, Steve didn’t think they did.
The room he was in was strangely empty. Blank walls, just a few boxes scattered around, only two men; the facility was too big for a group, so it was far from the only empty room he’d seen, but this one was in bad shape. Mold festered in the damp walls, and a mysterious puddle in the corner was too gross looking to investigate. He didn’t want to dwell in it, so he quickly found the door— well, lack of door, since there was a gaping hole in its place— and charged through.
The pungent smell hit him before he could identify anything. It smelled like a boys locker room mixed with melting paper, and it was as if someone was wafting it directly into Steve’s face.
Strangely, no one was in the room. Piles and piles of pure stuff lined the walls, and most of it looked like it came straight from a dumpster. Broken desks, trash cans, raggedy tarps, and shards of glass littered the abnormally wide room. But there were no people present, which did make a bit of sense. Steve was in the far end of the facility, where it bordered the lake. This was probably where they threw all their junk.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small black object with a blinking green light. Another one of their cameras. They were scattered around the facility, but no one had found the observation room yet. It was best to just knock them out when he could— he hoped that Tony was wrong about the observation room being at another facility, because that would mean these people had more facilities— so he launched his shield at it. The camera got hit, but because of his lethargic throw, the shield lost all of its momentum and hit the floor. With a mental groan, he started to jog over.
He noticed the quiet, fast ticking far too late. He instinctively squatted with a hand blocking him, forgetting he didn’t have his shield. His mess-up gave the bomb enough time to explode, with him standing like a deer in headlights.
Steve didn’t quite understand what happened for a moment. He knew there was a blast— a large, excruciatingly loud explosion— and he knew that it sent him flying. He just didn’t know where.
A few seconds passed by, and he realized that he must’ve gone through either the wall or the window, because he could feel the cold air on his face and he was falling. Fast. Again, he reached for his shield, but no— it wasn’t there. So he was just falling, no way to slow or brace himself. The notion that he’d slammed his head entered his mind, but he wasn’t sure what to do with that information.
He was aware of the water not long after he crashed into it. The frigid temperature is what shocked him into consciousness, although he still didn’t fully understand what had happened. He’d definitely flown through a window if the shards of glass in him were any implication.
The water was murky and felt thick, but maybe that was just because Steve’s body felt unusually cumbersome. He needed to find his bearings and get out of the water, or he’d drown. But he couldn’t tell which way was up and the murky water stopped any light from seeping in.
The cement hit him like a truck. He couldn’t really tell where it had come from, but he guessed the explosion had weakened the foundation enough to make it start to crumble. Which explained why two rooms worth of cement came crashing into the water, effectively trapping Steve underneath its weight.
His body was shoved into the riverbank, his back sinking down almost a foot into it. He was practically flattened. Panic set in quicker than he expected it to. He was losing air fast.
He tried his hardest to push the debris away, and he did move it up a bit, but he was so buried that it barely let him see above the soil. He kept trying, but he could barely move it, and every attempt made his arms burn more. Every attempt stole more of the limited air in his lungs.
Peter felt the bomb despite his distance, but he didn’t realize how much damage it would do. The building immediately began to crumble, and it looked bad. The foundation was rocked to its core, and the whole building looked as if it would come down.
Peter’s eyes shot open when he spotted a red-and-blue body falling through the sky. Captain America. Peter didn’t move until he saw the man hit the water.
The tree branches creaked as he swung on them, some even breaking under the weight. He was trying to go fast, but the trees were dense to the point that he needed to reroute because of how small some of the gaps were.
Once he’d reached the waters edge, he realized how bad the situation really was. A huge piece of the building had landed in the water, and more debris was falling. If Steve hadn’t come out yet— which he hadn’t— he must be trapped, which was really bad.
“Karen, can you see Steve’s vitals?”
” Yes, they are weak and currently dropping. He is twenty feet away from you, beneath some kind of debris. He is rapidly running out of oxygen.”
Okay, that was bad. Really bad
Peter cut through the cold water, willing himself to look through the murky water to find the man. Just barely, he could see a pair of hands pushing at a load of cement.
Reaching the bottom, Peter realized how soft the ground was. Quickly, he decided to dig him out, and got right at it. The debris was too heavy for him to lift, but he could push it enough that Steve would be able to swim out.
It took him less than a minute to make a space big enough for the hero to swim out of. When they made eye-contact, Steve looked pretty confused, but understood the plan quickly. Using his fingers, Peter counted down from three, praying that the plan would work.
Three.
Two.
One.
Thankfully, Steve swam out when Peter moved the debris. It groaned, and the sheer weight of it made Peter lose a lot of his saved breath, but it worked. Steve pulled himself out before Peter dropped the cement.
The man was practically unconscious, so Peter looped an arm around the guy and swam them both up. He was really running out of air, and the effort needed to drag them both up was exasperating. When he broke the surface, he ripped his mask off, gasping and coughing.
Once he’d paddled to the bank, Avenger in tow, he finally got a chance to catch his breath.
“Karen, is he… alright?” He choked out.
”Steve Rogers is currently alive and recovering from asphyxiation. He appears to have a severe concussion and a possible compression fracture. He doesn’t not appear to be fully conscious.”
“ Thanks Karen…” Peter sucked in another breath as he leaned over the man. “Mr. Captain America? Can you hear me?”
Slowly, Steve’s eyes opened, and a puzzled look appeared on his face. Okay, so he wasn’t fully out. That was good— Peter really didn’t want to carry him.
“K-kid, you shouldn’t be h-here, this is d-dangerous.” He stuttered, looking at Peter with wide, confused eyes.
Shit. Peter’s mask was still off. He groaned mentally, but brushed it off. The rest of the Avengers would learn his identity anyway, so maybe it didn’t matter that much, but he didn’t appreciate being called ‘kid’ by the guy who almost killed Tony.
”Yeah, well, I’m Spider-Man—“ Peter pulled the mask back over his face— “So I can handle some danger. It’s kinda, y’know, my job.” Peter knew he was being a bit snappy, but he didn’t have much fondness for the guy (even though he used to think Captain America was the second coolest Avenger. Now it was Natasha, because she was so cool. Maybe even cooler than Iron Man, but he would never tell Tony that).
”Okay, Spider-Man, you can’t just drop in on Avenger missions.” The way he said Spider-Man made Peter grit his teeth.
”Dude, I was literally on the quintet with you. And aren’t I the one who just saved your ass?”
“ Language.”
Peter stared at the man for a long moment, trying his hardest to not laugh. He needed to be professional, like an Avenger. Even if some guy had just gone ‘language’ with the utmost seriousness, as if ass was the worst word imaginable.
He didn’t get a chance to say anything in response because of the debris hurling at them. Peter’s spider-sense gave him plenty of warning, and he easily pulled himself and Steve out of the way of it.
”We should probably get away from this side, ‘cause the whole huge-fiery-pieces-of-debris-falling-from-the-sky thing isn’t all that fun.“ Peter noted, pulling Steve to his feet with one arm.
“I’m sure there’s still some guys scattered around, we can’t just leave.”
”Yeah, but we should reconvene with the others. I don’t think any of us expected the place to blow, but it might be orchestrated, so we shouldn’t just rush in.” Peter explained calmly, narrowing in on Tony from a distance; he seemed just as confused as they were.
Steve broke away from Peter, but seemed to struggle to stand on his own. He was still trying to be in charge, even in his clearly out-of-it state, and Peter couldn’t help but respect the guy for his perseverance.
”We should go through the woods. It gives us more cover, and there’s less of them in there.” The captain said in a gruff voice.
”It’s too dense and muddy for you to walk through. I could barely swing throughout, and you’ll get lost in five seconds with a concussion. It’s dumb, but we need to stay out in the open. Just watch your head.”
“We need to go through the woods, kid.”
“There’s like three feet of mud and barely room between the trees. The smoke from the fire—“ Peter pointed to the large fire that the explosion has caused— “makes it hard to see, and you are concussed. There’s no way we’re getting through there, mister.”
Steve sighed, but he stopped protesting. Both of them knew that going through the open field would mean dodging bullets and fiery debris, but it was really the only option.
“I’m gonna swing from the lonely trees, try to stay high. If I see something, I’ll call it, alright? Go onto a private comm line with me until we get there. I’ll stay a bit behind you since I’m off the ground.” Peter explained, preplanning the route he could take to get to Tony.
The facility was stupidly long, and the space between them and Tony stretched nearly half a mile. It normally wouldn’t take long, but the debris and the conditions made it far tougher.
”Look kid, I don’t need someone to watch me. I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, so just make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”
God, he was insufferable.
” Okay.” Peter said through gritted teeth.
The captain took off, going at a decent pace for someone with an injured leg. Peter hopped onto a tree, got high enough that he could swing, and leaped off. Debris fell like meteors, and Peter kept an eye on the Captain running beneath him.
“Piece of debris at 9:45, mister.“ He called out, narrowly avoiding an incoming tree.
Steve dodged the chunk, his pace seeming to have slowed a bit. The system seemed like it would work as long as Steve listened and Peter didn’t hit anything himself.
They repeated the pattern a few more times. Peter called out, and Steve dodged. Peter had a few close calls— one of them did hit him, but it was more like a graze and didn’t knock him out of the sky (although even a graze to the head made you pretty dizzy).
The captain's pace had significantly slowed, though. He still seemed a bit confused, sometimes running in the wrong direction for a few steps before reorienting himself. But they were pretty close to the other Avengers, so they’d probably make it. Peter would tell Tony that Steve probably was done fighting for the day, but he doubted anyone would be fighting anymore— it seemed like the battle was over. Kinda hard to fight an enemy that just got blown to pieces.
“9 o’clock!!” Peter called a bit early.
Steve didn’t move. Or no, he moved, he just moved towards the falling object. What the hell was he doing?
Shit. Shit Shit SHIT—
Peter slammed into it right before it could hit Steve.
”Fucking hell—“ He croaked, a violent pain rattling throughout his entire body.
The impact sent them both crashing into each other and they splattered into the mud, Peter on top of the captain. The impact was less severe for Peter since it was less direct, but man did it hurt. He lifted his hands up and saw blood coating each palm.
Steve said something, but Peter couldn’t hear it over the alarms going off in his mask and in his brain. The horrible— horrible piercing pain in his stomach was all he could focus on.
” Peter, you are severely wounded. There is a stab wound in your abdomen from a piece of rebar. It is no longer inside of you, and you are actively bleeding. Should I alert Mr. Stark?”
” N-No, Karen, we’re nearly there.” Peter choked out .
Fuck, fuck oh god this hurts fuck—
The pain was overwhelming, but he couldn’t dwell on it. He needed to get the hell out of there, and fast. Adrenaline would keep him going for a bit, and he needed to use that time. He shot some webs into the wound, making it burn in pain but stopping some of the bleeding. They were probably a football field away from Mr. Stark. He could make it. He needed to be able to make it.
Peter tried to tell Steve something, but no words came out of his suddenly dry mouth. So he just heaved the guy up, motioned for him to run, and took off. Thankfully, Steve followed, his pace quicker than Peters. No matter what, he was still Captain America, so it didn’t shock Peter that he struggled to keep up on foot. Maybe he’d be a bit quicker if he didn’t have a huge puncture wound, but he’d never been as good at running as he was swinging.
Steve’s mind was spinning, but now it was from more than just his concussion. First of all, ‘Spider-man’, the guy with a good heart from Brooklyn, was a child. Couldn’t be more than 16– maybe even younger. Stark had enlisted a child to do his dirty work. And second of all, said child had just purposefully thrown himself in front of a fiery chunk of a wall, then just got back up and started running. Now, for a super-serum enhanced soldier, yeah, that would make a bit of sense. But for some kid? Insanity.
But each step he took just let the thoughts brew in his mind longer, and his confusion turned to anger.
Stark had enlisted a kid to do his dirty work. Brought a child to the fight in Germany. Who does that? Stark was endangering some kid for what? To prove a point? To have someone to play with, someone to ruin with his influence?
Steve laid eyes on the man, hovering in his suit. His voice crackled through the now open comm, but Steve didn’t listen. The only thing on his mind was how selfish and irresponsible Tony Stark was, and that he needed to confront the man.