The day had started like any other. The Avengers Tower, per usual, was bustling with energy. Clint had rudely awoken Peter, hanging from his bedroom ceiling vent and shouting, "Wake up! Steve's making breakfast!" And then popped back into the vent with a girlish giggle (though, Clint would argue it was very manly, so don't let him catch you saying that.) Peter was left confused and groggy in his wake, rubbing his eyes as he stood up.
Peter felt disconnected from the team all morning, even after joining them for breakfast. The Avengers could be surprisingly domestic, especially living together, which normally suited Peter. However, at the moment, all he wished for was some quiet and a place just to think. If anybody noticed his odd, standoffish behavior, they didn't say anything (mercifully), but Peter was sure he received some concerned looks. The Avengers couldn't know why his mood was so somber, anyway, he didn't tell them. Not even Tony.
As soon as breakfast was over, Peter excused himself. After all, he had somewhere to be.
Uncle Ben's grave.
It had been exactly three years since Ben's tragic death, an event that happened when Peter was just thirteen. Three years since that awful evening, and yet Peter couldn't get it out of his head. The gunshot, the cracked concrete, the blood, the surety that this was all his fault. Three years, and yet it sat like a heavy weight on his chest.
Peter cried at Ben's grave. Peter cried a lot. Rain fell from the sky like the heavens were weeping with him. May joined him at some point, never asking questions, never asking why he chose to stay at the Tower the previous night (the apartment reminded him too much of Ben; he couldn’t stay there). She had just rubbed his back, comforting him, while rain pounded off the gravestone and mingled with tears as they mourned.
Peter eventually stood up and brushed off his jeans when an alert from the Avengers lit up his Stark phone.
"You should tell them," Aunt May's soft voice rasped out. She rose from her kneeling position on the grass and gripped his shoulder gently. He didn't have to guess who they were. "They should know. Especially Tony."
Peter sighed. "I know, May, but it's just- it's just hard to talk about." She nodded, gentle and understanding, sending a pang to Peter's heart. I don't deserve her. It's all my fault she lost Ben, all my fault, my fault my fault my fault my-
“I love you Peter, and Tony does too. He'll understand," said May, breaking Peter out of his thoughts.
"I know," said Peter with a sigh, voice cracking. "I have to go. Another mission. Love you, May." May reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
"I would tell you not to go, but I know that would be useless. Just... be careful, okay?" Peter smiled a little at her end comment, nodding.
"Okay, May. I will." And with that, he left.
Peter pushed aside all thoughts of Ben during the mission. The team needed Spider-man, not some angsty teen, and Peter welcomed the chance to don his superhero persona and kick some bad-guy butt. However, it didn't work as well as he had hoped, as his mind drifted constantly back to that night. And then, the mission went sideways.
It was supposed to be a simple intel-gathering op, but turned into a fully-fledged battle against a group of criminals with advanced tech (they had laser guns. Seriously? Peter had the worst luck.) Peter soon got caught in the chaos, taking down the bad guys by the second with little regard for his safety. I can save everyone. I have to. I have to prove that I can save everyone, so they don't end up like Ben, better me than them...
And then, as if the Universe had heard his thoughts, Peter was struck by one of the laser guns.
He had seen it coming but had been unable to throw his body completely out of the way in time. The sizzling sound of his flesh registered before the pain, and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep a shriek from escaping him when his brain finally noticed the injury, coppery blood filling his mouth. His side burned, like nothing he had ever felt before, nerves screaming in pain as they were lit on fire. Even so, he continued to fight through it all, shooting his webs to incapacitate the enemy while also clutching his torched side. His head started to swim, and he heard a faint ringing in his ears.
"Underoos! Stand down!" A familiar voice from the comms. Peter sluggishly recognized that this was Tony, and Peter should probably listen to him, but then a civilian screamed from nearby and Peter refocused. No more losses. I have to help them. I have to-
A big metal arm obstructed his path as he started forward. It grasped at his suit and dragged him into an alleyway, supporting him all the while. The faceplate of the suit the arm was attached to slid back.
"What is wrong with you? You're injured! Stay out of the fight!" Tony gasped out, panting and looking at Peter, extremely concerned.
"Let me go! People are dying out there, I have to help them!" Shouted Peter, mind blurred and stars swimming in his vision. His breath came out in short pants.
"You're no good dead, Underoos, and that's how you're gonna end up if you keep fighting like this! The team has this one, we'll take care of it-"
”But if one of you gets hurt it's my fault! And you're the closest thing to family I have besides Aunt May, and I can't lose you, not like Uncle Ben, not again, I just-" Peter cut himself off with a sob. He was in tears and practically hyperventilating now, mind too foggy to register what he was saying. He slid down the stone wall, uncaring of the dirty concrete beneath him, and buried his face in his hands.
"I would rather die than any of you guys. I mean, I probably deserve it, after... after Ben." His voice was shaky and oddly detached. Tony slid to the ground beside him, uncaring of the raging battle happening nearby. His kid needed him.
"Kid, no, I may not know what you're talking about, but nothing you could ever do would make you deserve that." Tony wrapped an arm around Peter, the boy still shaking.
Peter didn't know what made him say the next words. Maybe it was the grief, or the pain, or the lingering adrenaline, or Tony's comforting arm around him. Maybe it was the blood slowly leaking out of his side and onto the concrete, just like Ben. Would it be a sort of poetic justice to die this way?
“I do deserve it, though. Sometimes I want it, everything, everything is just to much-" And wow, if those words didn't send Tony's stomach sinking, nothing else could.
"No, kid, don't - don't say stuff like that. You're injured, and you're not thinking straight, you can't mean it." Tony reassured, more to himself than anyone else.
“I tried once. After Ben," said Peter quietly, woozy from blood loss. His head was spinning, but not enough to miss the horrified look Tony gave him. Still, in his muddled state, he let more of the truth spill from his lips. "Ben got shot. Three years ago, today. It was m' fault, wouldn't have happened if I didn't go out. He died. Thought I couldn't live with myself." Abruptly, Peter felt himself get pulled into Tony's side, hard.
"I'm sorry about your uncle, kid, but it was not your fault, and don't you ever try that again." Peter felt surprise cut through his melancholy as he heard Tony's suspiciously wet voice, even more so as he saw actual tears on the man's face. Tony never cries. "Promise me you'll come to me, or your aunt, or literally anybody on the team if you feel that way.”
Peter nodded sluggishly. "Kay." Peter got a soft smile and a hug in response.
Abruptly, Tony stood, wiping his eyes and clamping his face plate back down. He scooped up the still-lightheaded Peter into his arms, putting pressure on the wound. Peter let out a soft whimper, eyes slowly closing. "Sorry, I have to," said Tony, sympathy evident in his voice. "I'm going to take you back to the Tower, kid, the team can finish this up by themselves, and then we're gonna let Helen heal you up. And when you're healthy, you and I will be having a long chat about some of your misplaced ideas."
Peter sighed in response, still cradled in Tony's arms. Peter took a long moment to register the words, but when he did, his last thought was a faint "uh-oh" before he drifted into unconsciousness.