Chapter 1
It had all happened so fast.. and in the same way as Ben. And Peter didn’t have any time to react. To stop May from getting shot. Watching the woman fall to the floor. And Peter assumed the robber had made a dash when he’d realised he’d actually shot someone.
It took Peter a good five seconds for his world to come up to speed. Five seconds that somehow Peter had managed to convince himself would have made all the difference. If he had just moved. Put pressure on the bullet wound sooner. Then May would still be here. In a hospital bed yes. But her hand would be warm. Not cold to the touch like it was now. And she’d at least be somewhat comfortable. Not lying down on a harsh metal table. With a white blanket draped over her body. He’d be able to hear her voice again in person. Not though the voice messages left on his phone that would stay there for the rest of his life.
He’d never get rid of that phone now. He’d make sure to listen to them every day. Make sure he’d never forget her voice. The woman who stood up and took on the role as his guardian when Ben died. Even when he wasn’t biologically hers or her responsibility. His Aunt May.
He knew realistically it wasn’t true. The five seconds making a difference. But his brain had other plans. Peter looked down to the woman’s hand and taking off three rings. Her engagement ring, and then her and Bens wedding bands. Slipping them onto his far too small fingers and clenched his fist to stop them from falling off. “Mr. Parker. We need confirmation.” The detective piped up from the doorway. She was a kind woman, soft spoken.
Peter nodded once. Scared his voice would fail him if he tried to speak. Luckily they didn’t ask for a verbal confirmation. Which told Peter that he was done here. Placing May’s hand back under the sheet with great care and placing a kiss to her forehead once the blanket was draped over her face. The fabric and death forever keeping the two separated. Wordlessly, Peter walked out of the cold room. Heading to the front of the hospital. Peter was underaged. Logically the first step when Peter arrived with his Aunt would be to call the emergency contact (other than May because how could she answer? She was dead) on his file. Which would mean Tony Stark would be the next point of call.
Peter stood in the rain. No jacket or umbrella. No shelter. They were supposed to be back from the restaurant by now. Back home. Peter bundled up in his bed safe and warm. Hearing the muffled sounds of the TV and Mays breathing slow and steady suggesting she’d fallen asleep once again on the sofa. The patter of rain around the complex that you’d think would be overbearing however infact done the opposite, instead lulling the teen to sleep.
But instead, he was stood outside the hospital. Rain water running down his exposed arms and mixing with the blood on his hands. Rehydrating it, and dripping to the floor to disappear into the puddles. He could stand inside, like any sane person would do, but Peter didn’t have the stomach for that.
When Peter saw the familiar black Audi, his expression didn’t change. He didn’t smile. Didn’t frown. But maybe what worried Tony most was that he wasn’t crying. He was just standing there, gaze fixed to Tony’s face with no emotion to it. Slowly, the mechanic moved over to Peter, holding his arms out in an invitation to a hug. He didn’t care that the boy was dripping wet. Or not yet at least. He’d care about that when they got to the compound.
When Peter made his way to Tony’s arms. Peter’s own loosely hugging Tony’s waist, he wrapped his arms tightly around the boy. He was cold. Which was expected. Carding his hand through Peter’s soaked mop of hair. But still, there were no tears. And Tony only worried further. Happy went inside to tell the reception that Peter had been picked up safe and sound while Tony led the kid to the car. Helping him inside and buckling him up when Peter made no effort to. Was it dissociation? He knew the teen had struggled with it since he was a kid but he was never particularly good at spotting it.
Carefully, Tony shut the door to Peter’s side of the car, heading to the opposite side and climbing in. Shoes squeaking together. He came to the definite conclusion that Peter was indeed dissociating when his shoes squeaked together getting into the vehicle. To Peter, that was like nails on chalkboard. And to not have any reaction at all wasn’t helping to ease the anxiety in the pit of Tony’s stomach. Slowly, he moved to the middle seat. Carefully leading Peter to his shoulder and letting the teen reside there for the car journey back to the compound.
Peter stood just past the doors of the lift. Just.. staring at the wall in front of him down the hallway. When Tony noticed the teen wasn’t following, he poked his head back round the corner with a “kid?”
Peter’s eyes were glossed over. Like he wasn’t there or he was stuck in old memories. But really Peter was just trying to come to terms.
May was dead.
He was in the compound now.
May was dead.
He’d pack her things, his things, and never go back to that small queens apartment.
May was dead.
And he had do continue life like nothing happened, living with the Avengers.
May was dead.
He’d struggle to keep his identity secret from them.
May was dead.
He had to plan a funeral. He’d never had to before. How were they planned?
May was dead.
He was alone.
Peter lent back against the elevator doors, the sob coming before the tears but those weren’t far behind. His hands held in front of his face, curled slightly, but they stayed there. Like Peter was unsure what to do with them.
“Kid..” Tony whispered, walking over to the teen once more and placing a steady hand on his small shoulder. He wanted to hug the kid. But he didn’t want the kid to freak out.
Turns out he didn’t have to worry about that, Peter practically throwing himself onto his mentor. Clinging to the others shirt like if he let go, or if Tony walked away for any reason, he’d die. Or leave Peter for good. And Peter couldn’t handle being truly alone.
Tony wrapped his arms around Peter tightly hearing a sob of what he thought sounded “May’s dead-“
He didn’t tell him that he knew. Just rubbed his back soothingly, the other hand running through his hair. Trying to think of what comfort Tony longed for when his parents died. “I’m right here, Pete..” Tony whispered, holding the others head to his neck and shoulder. “I’m right here.. not leaving. You’re alright..” to cry.