The apartment door that Sam is standing in front of looks so ordinary it’s hard to believe it’s a gateway to a space that houses a spider-mutated teenager who saves people as an after-school hobby. It's also kind of hard to believe that Sam is here, visiting said teenager, out of his own volition. Stark has been a major asshole all day so Sam has to make due with a younger, much nicer genius who won’t be such a pain in the ass about this. This is important. It also doesn’t hurt that Sam gets to see how the kid is doing after what happened.
He knocks three times, quick little raps, and clutches the backpack and the item inside it firmly. He strains to hear any movement behind the wooden door and winces when he makes out a thud and a quiet yelp.
The door is opened by a very disheveled looking Peter Parker, who is rubbing his palm over a spot above his hip with a grimace across his youthful features. He’s holding a blue piggy bank in one hand and his phone in the other.
His expression clears, though, when he locks eyes with Sam. A bright smile takes over the kid’s whole face and he throws the door wide open. “Oh, hey, Mr. Wilson!”
Sam grins back at him. “Hey, kid. You good?” He points at the evidently sore area on the kid’s hip.
Peter looks down as if he had already forgotten about it and pulls the faded MIT sweater he’s wearing a little further down, a faint tint of red rising on his cheeks. “Oh, that,” his brows furrow and the earlier smile turns into a sour frown. “yeah, I ran into the table.”
It’s very hard to fight back the grimace that wants to materialize itself onto Sam’s face.
Yesterday on patrol Peter had been apprehending who he had thought was a mere mugger, but turned out to be a wizard of some kind, when the asshole had shot something at the kid, and stripped him of his powers. There was more to it than that, something about spider DNA being dormant, but Sam hadn’t been listening so carefully, busy with ogling Tony Stark hugging and consoling a teenager. Not a sight you see everyday. Fortunately though, Strange had said it would only last for a week or two.
”Anyway,” Peter breaks the uncomfortable silence that has settled between the two. ”If Mr. Stark sent you, you can tell him he doesn’t have to worry.” The kid sounds exasperated now, ”I’m totally fine here at home.”
Aah. That had been a popcorn worthy thing to watch. After the diagnosis, Stark had had a proper meltdown about Peter needing to stay under supervision until the effects of the spell would wear off, nearly resulting in him getting throttled by a small, angry Italian woman. ”Are you trying to tell me I’m not capable of looking after my own kid? You live off of coffee and the power of stubborness!” Sam’s ears are still ringing from that particular showdown.
”Nah,” Sam shoves his backpack against Peter’s chest and the kid quickly wraps his arms around it awkwardly. The contents of the piggy bank rattle against the plastic container when the kid very nearly drops the thing. On his wrist, Sam can make out the tracking bracelet Tony had given him after his discharge from the medbay, even though the boy had declared it a ’gross invasion of privacy’ at the time. ”That’s not why I’m here.”
The boy glances down at Sam’s backpack and turns it in his hands. “What’s this?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Sam rights himself. “That,” he looks pointedly at the item, “is why I’m here.”
Peter tilts his head to the side, eyes widening, attention solely focused on Sam and ok, the kid has to know what he looks like when he does that. It’s no wonder Stark can’t ever say no to him. He looks like one of those animals from the Disney movies that his nephews make him watch when he gets that fascinated look on his face.
“The thing is, Bucky broke Redwing.” It’s not Sam’s fault that Bucky is too impatient to wait until all the equipment has been loaded in the car instead of it still laying on the ground behind the back tires.
Peter, intuitive as ever, squints his eyes like he knows that’s not the full story. He nods, nevertheless.
“Uh huh... So, what? You need me to fix it? Why can’t Mr. Stark do it?”
“I want a nicer genius today,” he breezes past the question and points at the kid. “That's you. Think you can help me out?”
The kid shrugs, ”Okay.” The brown ringlets of curls on his head bounce when he glances at the backpack and then looks back at Sam, a pensive glint in his eyes. ”I was actually about to stop by the bank, but I can get this back to you in a few days?”
The plastic piggy bank catches the man’s eye again. Now, he doesn’t know what business a 15 year old has at a bank of all places, but what he’s certain of is that the nearest bank is almost an hour walk away from the Parker residence and Queens is not famous for its safety. And Peter doesn’t have his enhancements right now.
”I’ll tell you what, why don’t I take you?” The offer is out of Sam’s mouth faster than he can stop it.
The kid’s head tilts to the side. ”What?”
”Yeah, I was going that way anyway.”
Smart as a whip, Peter figures Sam out instantly and his shoulders drop. ”You don’t even know where I’m going.” He looks to the side, an irritated frown pulling at his brows. ”I can walk to the bank. Other people walk around the city alone just fine.”
”Do they, though?”
It’s not fair to Peter that he suddenly can’t do anything without someone fussing over him or freaking out, and Sam can guess that it’s hard to get used to having more than one adult in his corner now. It’s also possible that Peter doesn’t realize just how young he actually is. The kid shoulders so much pressure every day because of those powers that he might not quite understand how unreasonable his expectations for himself are, considering he’s still technically a child.
Peter’s frown deepens.
”Look, kid. Let me do this for you, alright? Consider it payback for fixing Redwing for me.”
The boy’s upset eyes meet Sam’s and he still looks like a kicked puppy, which just won’t do.
”C’mon man, you really gonna say ’no’ to hanging out with an Avenger?”
Peter gives him a look, clearly wanting to argue that they see each other every week, but chooses not to fight him on it, for once recognizing a losing battle when he sees one. ”Fine.” It’s a very teenager-y reply but it gets Sam what he wants.
—————
Sam is a little weirded out by how not talkative the kid is, even after a full five minutes of a silent drive towards the bank. Peter sits slumped with a gloomy expression on his face, leaning his temple on the window. A sulking Peter Parker is not what Sam wants.
”Hey, Pete.”
Peter’s eyes shift to look at Sam. ”Hm?”
”You’re gonna go back to being sticky again in no time, man.” He pats the kid’s shoulder. ”You think Stark is not gonna do everything in his power to figure this out? He’s been driving that wizard dude insane.”
That only deepens the frown on Peter’s forehead.
”I know.” He mumbles. ”I know he is, it’s not that. Everyone is just… doing this.” He waves his hand around in a vague gesture.
”This? Looking out for you?”
”Hovering.” The grumble sounds guilty. ”And I get it, I do. But… I went out alone before Spider-Man. Everyone thinks I’m this defenseless, weak child now-”
”They don’t.” Sam interjects. ”We don’t. We know you’re not defenceless, or weak. Hell, you might just be the strongest person I know.”
A blush rises on Peter’s cheeks and he turns his face away from Sam.
”The thing is,” he continues. ”You’ve got a bunch of adults who have first hand experience on how bad the world, people, can be. Now add in the fact that these adults also have first hand experience on seeing you get into the most ridiculously dangerous situations without you even trying. C’mon, boy wonder, what does this equal?”
Peter rolls his eyes, but at last, a small smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Sam smirks and nudges at him with an elbow. ”C’mon, Pete. What does it equal?”
There’s a look on Peter’s face like he might be coming around on understanding where Tony and May, and all the other adults in his life are coming from.
”Worried adults?”
Sam taps his pointer finger against the steering wheel in an ”aha!” gesture.
”Worried adults.” He confirms.
The kid sighs and fiddles with the ends of his sleeves. ”Alright. I’ll just deal, I guess.”
”Hey,” Sam pokes Peter on the cheek, which the kid tries to brush away. ”You’ve been handling this really well. Just, when it all gets a little much, or when we get a little hovery-”
”Like today,” the teen adds with a playful grin.
”Smartass.” Sam pokes Peter’s side this time, earning a small giggle. ”Like today-” he relents anyway. ”-you need to tell us so we can back off a little bit.”
The curls on Peter’s head flop around when he slumps against the car seat. ”Yeah, okay. I’ll do that.”
”So, no getting in trouble for a little while?”
”No getting in trouble.”
Sam sends him a smile. ”Good man.” There’s a beat of silence until-
”Thanks, Sam.”
This kid.
”Yeah. No problem, Spider-boy.”
Later, when they arrive at the bank, Sam finds out what the piggy bank is for.
”We’re gonna get the millenium falcon with Ned.”
”Couldn’t Stark get it for you, though? Isn’t he like your dad?”
The sputtering that Sam got for that was entirely worth it.
”It’s more rewarding like this.”
Peter conveniently didn’t mention the fact that this way he could also leave the house for a reason and be less likely to be berated for it later.
Sam sits down on one of the chairs in the lobby and watches Peter head over to an empty register. It’s really quiet at the bank today. In addition to Peter and him, there are only a handful of other customers in the spacious room. He eyes a man sitting next to him, whose attention is on a piece of paper that he holds in his hand. The hood of his jacket is pulled over his head so Sam can’t see his face. The man keeps twitching, correcting his posture, one hand rising up to rub at his face. He’s clearly nervous, and it makes Sam think of Sarah and that stupid boat she keeps trying to get rid of. He feels for the man, money is exhausting.
Not much has changed when Sam looks over at the kid again. Peter is still chatting it up with the lady behind the counter, and she’s smiling at him.
It’s calm, until it isn’t.
There’s the sound of a door opening, and then the unmistakable click of it being locked. It sends an ominous shiver down Sam’s spine and he turns around to assess the situation. He can barely make out the mask the man sitting next to him has on his face before he jumps up, draws a gun from his pocket and shoots two rounds into the high ceiling.
Sam scrambles to get down.
Chaos erupts. The few people that are there start screaming and running to the door, until they see the other robber, who’s also wearing a seriously creepy white mask and carrying a gun in his hand. The man points the gun at the panicking group and they drop down to their knees, hands raised to the ceiling. They whimper and cry but alas, the screaming stops.
”That’s more like it,” the taller robber, the one at the door, muses, sounding pleased. ”Everyone on their knees, and I won’t shoot you right between the eyes.”
Sam can barely stifle the scoff that threatens to come out. They probably haven’t even realized there’s an Avenger-
Fuck. Cold dread washes over him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He has Redwing and all his gear in the fucking car. That renders him completely useless to do anything, not to mention to protect Pe-
Fuck. The dread turns icy. Peter.
His eyes fly to the counter where he’d last seen the teen, and relief fills him when he sees that Peter is still there. Just not on the ground like everyone else. His feet are firmly planted on the linoleum floor, his back straight, and the most menacing glare on his face that Sam has ever seen. For fuck’s sake. The kid’s going to get himself killed. It’s just their luck that this happens to them when Peter’s lacking his usual stickiness and all that comes with it.
Sam stares a hole in the side of the kid’s head in hopes to get his attention so he can tell him to get the hell down. It does nothing.
”Hey!” The taller one, Tall-guy, Sam decides, hollers from the entrance. ”Didn’t you hear me, brat? On your fucking knees before I do it for you, and trust me, you won’t like the way I’d do it.”
Ever so slowly, Peter lowers himself down, the determined glare never leaving his face. That piques the robber’s interest. Sam’s heart jumps in his chest when the man tilts the gun in the boy’s direction. Peter’s eyes are firmly settled on the criminal’s masked face and it prevents him from seeing Sam frantically signaling at him to cut the act. The robber walks closer to the kid, like a predator cornering prey.
Sam briefly glances at the other shorter robber, Short-guy, just to keep track of him. He’s walking to the other registers, pointing his gun at the terrified employees and paying no mind to what his partner is doing.
”There’s a good boy. What’s your name, kid?”
Sam can just make out the tint of red that blooms on Peter’s face, but the kid keeps his lips shut stubbornly.
The man blows out a disappointed sigh, and then backhands Peter so hard that the kid nearly ends up sprawled face down on the floor, only barely catching himself on his elbows. Brown curls fall over the kid's face at the abrupt turn of his head, and Sam’s stomach clenches at the muffled yelp that leaves the boy’s mouth.
”Hey!” Sam yells loud enough for the sound to echo throughout the space, ”Lay off, asshole, he’s a kid!”
Tall-guy ignores him, and grouches down next to Peter. His hand reaches out to grab the kid by the chin, turning it so they’re eye to eye. ”Let’s try that again. Name, kid.”
Peter looks like he’s going to keep his lips sealed but then the man sets the nozzle of the gun right underneath the kid's jaw.
”Hey! Hey, hey, wait-,” Once again, Sam’s frantic protests go unheard.
”Peter.” The boy bites out finally.
A snort from the man. ”Good boy.” Tall-guy lets go of the kid, and stands up. ”Now stay down. Would hate to mess up such a cute little face.”
Yeah. The man’s a fucking creep.
”Leave him alone,” Sam snaps.
At this, Tall-guy turns to him and his eyes brighten at the sight. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Peter lift himself back off the ground into a sitting position, raising a hand on his no doubt sore, red cheek. The fire in his eyes never fades.
”Is that…? No fucking way. Hey, man, look, it’s the Falcon!” The man leers, now stauntering towards Sam. ”Seems like it’s our lucky day.”
Short guy has gathered all other occupants in front of the doors, including all but one the employees from behind the counter. He strides over to stand next to his partner.
”No way.” he exclaims when he too recognizes Sam’s face. ”A fucking Avenger.”
Sam rolls his eyes. ”Yeah, whatever, man. Just leave the kid be.”
Tall-guy hums, a wicked purse to his lips. ”Insubordination must be punished.” His tone is provoking. ”Shows a bad example to the others.”
”Yeah, real fucking tough, beating on a kid.” Sam spits, before trying to reign himself in. ”Look, we’re not opposing you or whatever. The cops will be here any minute, but you still have a chance to run.”
”Speaking of which!” Tall-guy snaps his fingers. ”I’m gonna need everyone’s phones. Wouldn’t want anyone making any pesky little phone calls.”
Short guy pulls a folded plastic bag out of his coat pocket and starts walking around the room, collecting phones.
Sam spares him a glance before he turns back on the taller guy. ”You don’t think the cops already know?”
With a shrug, Tall-guy walks back to the register where a shaking woman stands behind the plexi glass. ”Oh, I’m sure they do. I know about those little buttons these guys are told to press.” He waves the gun in the woman’s direction, who starts sobbing.
”Oh honey, don’t cry. Here’s what I need you to do. A hundred grand in this little bag right here.” He places a black duffle bag on the counter. ”If you make it fast, I’ll give you a kiss.”
”Stop it.”
Fucking hell, kid. Tall-guy swivels around to look at the boy.
”Peter.” Sam hisses through his teeth. Why is it that the kid can put up the most convincing silent treatment when he wants to, but when he really shouldn’t talk he can’t seem to shut up.
Short-guy steps in front of the teen and lifts his chin with the barrel of the black hand gun, shaking the bag that is now halfway filled with different kinds of mobile phones.
”Who’s the kid to you anyway?” He asks, maintaining eye contact with Peter when the teen doesn’t make a move to get his phone out of his pocket. ”He came in here with you.”
Tall-guy perks up, intrigued. ”You know him?” He points at Peter. Damn.
”A kid of my friend. I drove him here.” And it isn’t even a lie.
Finally, Peter fixes his dark eyes on Sam and there’s so much unbridled defiance in that gaze that for a second he can swear he’s looking at Tony damn Stark instead. The kid spends way too much time with the billionaire. Sam Stares at him, pointedly. Stand the hell down.
”A friend, huh?” Tall-guy drawls. ”I’d imagine bringing back a dead kid might put a strain on this… friendship.”
Sam’s stomach plummets.
”Which will be the case, unless you do what I say and don’t try to play the hero.”
”I hear you, man. We’ll stay out of your way, just let him be.”
A pause.
”We’ll see.” Tall-guy snaps his fingers at Peter. ”Now, honey, the phone,” The kid’s eyes seek out Sam’s, and when they meet, Sam nods his head. Give them the phone. Don’t be an idiot.
Still, Peter hesitates, only for a second, but it’s enough for the taller man. He takes the kid by the hair and pulls his head back so hard that Peter winces and grabs the offending arm by the wrist.
”Hey!” Sam’s cry falls on deaf ears. A glint of metal on the kid’s wrist catches his eye, then, and his jaw nearly drops to the floor. The tracking bracelet! The relief nearly makes him nauseous. Thank Jesus, Stark is a paranoid bastard. Sam will never make fun of him for it again.
Grouching down on Peter’s level, Tall-guy leans in so close that the kid’s nose nearly touches the mask on the robber’s face. ”You,” he chuckles darkly. ”are starting to become a problem.” For emphasis, there’s a tug on the curls that are fisted tight in the man’s hand, and it makes the teen wince. ”I don’t like problems. Wanna know how I deal with them?”
The nozzle of the gun is back underneath Peter’s jaw. The kid swallows.
”I make ’em disappear.”
”Whoa, whoa-” Sam nearly springs up but then Tall-guy points the gun at his head.
”Stay the fuck down!” He turns Peter’s head to look at Sam. ”Is this it? You think you're some kinda hero cause uncle Sammy’s an Avenger?”
Sam locks his eyes with Peter’s and once he knows he has the kid’s attention, he pointedly looks down at his right wrist. It takes him a second, but brilliant as ever, Peter figures out quickly what Sam is after. And then he rolls his eyes. The older man’s mouth gapes open like a fish at the blatant show of attitude.
Tall-guy turns Peter’s head back so that they’re face to face again. ”Stop your bullshit, or uncle Sam’s gonna have to help plan a funeral, got it?”
The kid has clearly forgotten that he’s not Spider-Man right now because his reply is a determined ”you don’t have to do this”. He pulls in a shaky breath. ”You can still go home, change-”
The robber barks out a laugh, letting go of the kid’s hair. ”Trying to appeal to my humanity, son?” More chuckles escape like it’s the funniest thing the man has heard in a while. And then he turns cold again. ”Don’t bother, there’s none left.” He grips Peter’s chin again, shaking it roughly. ”For the last time, keep your ass on the floor and your fucking trap shut. If I catch you trying to play something you’ll get a bullet in the leg, do I make myself clear?”
Sam sees Peter’s eyes fill with tears. The boy nods.
”Attaboy. The phone.”
This time Peter doesn’t hesitate but fishes the phone out of his back pocket and hands it to the shorter man.
Tall-guy leaves them to go back to the woman at the register, and Peter’s glare follows him until the kid locks eyes with Sam again. What do we do? he mouths. Sam shakes his head. Without his gear he can’t risk the innocent people by going up against guns. And now that the robbers know Sam and Peter are connected, any unsuccessful attempt at taking the men down might have dire, even lethal consequences for the kid. Safest option is to ride it out, let the men get what they want and then catch them after. Or wait for backup.
Speaking of which…
Sam points a finger at Peter’s bracelet again, hoping that this time the reaction from the kid is something else than an eye-roll. And it is. The boy subtly turns his wrist so that Sam can make out the blinking blue light. Oh so the kid’s already pressed it. Smart.
”Hey, man, look at this!” Short-guy exclaims suddenly, excited like he’s discovered something incredible. He’s looking at something on Peter’s phone and Sam can only guess what it is. If the kid doesn’t use a password and has something Spider-Man related on it…
Tall-guy huffs and irritated ”what” but glances at the phone in Short-guy’s hand and freezes.
”Is that Tony Stark?”
Fuck.
A quick look at Peter is all Sam needs to know that things are now ten times worse than they were a few seconds ago. The kid has paled significantly and is staring at Short-guy like the guy had just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.
”A kid of a friend…” Tall-guy murmurs and turns his head to look at Sam. And then he laughs, a loud belly laugh that echoes in the large room.
”You,” he chuckles, ”you didn’t tell me the friend was Tony fucking Stark.”
Oh shit. How did they..? Fuck, they are in some very deep shit.
”It’s not like-”
”Bullshit!” The phone gets tossed to him and he barely manages to catch it. The lock screen appears and Sam’s stomach plummets when a picture of sleeping Tony and Peter, snuggled on the couch with Peter plastered to Tony’s side and Tony’s arms wrapped around him, stares at him in the face.
Oh, Peter.
”This changes things, don't you think?” Tall-guy muses, and turns to look at the few other hostages.
Peter’s panicked gaze finds Sam and a new kind of urgency fills the man’s body. There’s a reason why very few people know how close Peter and Tony are. Sam needs to derail this, quick.
”Look, it’s not what you-”
”Shut up!” Tall-guy commands and dips his chin to regard Peter again. ”I’m thinking,” he murmurs.
After a tense few seconds the man continues. ”So you’re what? A bastard son he just found out about? How come no one knows about you?”
Peter’s lip trembles. ”I’m an intern. Mr. Stark-”
Tall-guy backhands him again. This time Peter sprawls on the ground, not succeeding in catching himself on time. The masked man reaches down and fists the front of Peter’s hoodie, cruelly manhandling the kid to face him again.
”Stop!” Sam shifts to stand up but there’s a barrel of a gun against his forehead, halting his movement. Short-guy looks down at him, a tight grip on the weapon.
Tall-guy sighs like he’s tired. ”Let’s not play this game, alright. I don’t have the patience.”
Peter goes to protest, ”I’m not-”
”The cat’s outta the bag, son.” The man turns his head to Sam’s direction. ”I’ll tell you what, though. Stark has a lot more money than just a hundred grand.”
Sam sucks in a breath. ”Whoa, alright, hold on a minute-”
”Get the zip-ties,” Tall-guy orders Short-guy. ”Tie ’em up,” he points to the other hostages and then points at Sam with the gun. ”And him too. The cops will be here any minute now, let’s take the kid and make a new plan.”
”Okay, wait, man, just hold on a minute!” Sam cries out when Short-guy shoves Peter down on his stomach roughly, and starts tying his hands together behind his back. Peter’s panicked eyes catch his. The robber's knee presses viciously between the kid’s shoulder blades and it makes him wince.
For a moment Sam can’t help but wonder how the situation has managed to escalate so quickly. If they make it out of this unscathed, he’s never going anywhere with Peter ever again. His body physically can’t handle the stress.
Short-guy tightens the zip-ties so tight that Peter lets out a hiss of pain. That breaks Sam out of his reverie.
”Get off!! You’re hurting him!” He goes to stand up but Tall-guy is right there in his face, once again, pointing a gun at his forehead.
”Ah-ah!” He mocks Sam. ”It’s almost like you want the brat to get shot.” His voice turns vicious. ”Trust me, that can be arranged.”
”Listen, John Dillinger wanna-be, you’re wrong!” Sam barks. ”Stark’s the most paranoid man on the planet! Do you really think he would let his own son walk around without a million bodyguards? In Queens?”
From his peripheral Sam can see Short guy manhandle Peter back into a sitting position.
Tall-guy throws his head back like an irritated teen, and waves his gun around. ”I don’t give a fuck who the boy is.” He states like Sam is an idiot. ”A bastard, an intern, a damn sugar baby, I don’t care.” He crouches down to Sam’s level and leans his forearms on his knees. His voice is barely above a whisper when he continues. ”What I do care about, is that somehow his ass has managed to get so close to Stark that they cuddle on the couch like a happy little family. What I care about, is the pretty penny Stark will pay to get the boy back alive and to keep him a secret.”
”He’ll find you.” Sam’s voice is cold, frantic. ”This won’t work, I’m telling you. Leave the kid-”
”Alright, I’m done with this.” Tall-guy cuts him off and stands up. He points the gun at Peter and before Sam can vocalize any more protests, a shot rings out. Peter hunches over with a cry like he’s been punched in the stomach. No. Like he’s been shot.
”Peter!”
Blowing out shaky breaths, Peter rights himself up, giving Sam the opportunity to see the already seeping hole the bullet made in Peter’s jeans upon entry, on his thigh.
Tall-guy shrugs. ”I said alive. The next one goes in the knee.”
Sam ignores him. The shock is swimming around in his brain and Peter is the only thing he can see.
”Hey, hey, oh shit-, okay, breathe, Pete, it’s okay.”
Tears are flowing down Peter’s cheeks in thin streams now but his eyes are squeezed shut in pain and his teeth are gritted together so tight that Sam is afraid he’s gonna break them. He’s letting out short huffs of air, trying to breathe through the burn.
”Peter, it’s okay, it’s okay.” The teen’s jeans are getting saturated with maroon blood fast. Sam turns to the robbers. ”Hey, asshole! You need to put pressure on that!”
Tall-guy scoffs.
”You’ll never see a dime if he dies.” Sam doesn’t add that Stark would also probably kill them and Sam if he brings Peter back dead. ”Look, just, please. At least let me tie it with something.”
”Sam…” he hears Peter whimper and it’s a testament to how scared and in pain the kid is that he called Sam by his name and not the polite ’Mr. Wilson’ he’s used to.
”Hey, it’s okay, kid-”
Short-guy tosses him a zip tie. ”Be fast about it, and no tricks.”
Sam immediately scrambles to Peter and fumbles with the zip tie. Tall-guy keeps his gun trained on them the entire time.
”Okay, okay. You’re gonna be fine, squirt.” He rips the sleeve off of the t-shirt he's wearing and balls it up. He maneuvers the zip tie underneath Peter’s leg and positions the ball of fabric on top of the gnarly gunshot wound. The kid only lets out a few pained whimpers.
The kid’s voice is shaky when he speaks. ”Mr.-, Mr. Stark might have to get me the millenium falcon after all.”
A surprised breath of laughter escapes Sam’s mouth and he pat’s the knee of the kid’s good leg. ”And to think you promised me no trouble just ten minutes ago.” He slips the end of the zip tie through its loop so now all he has to do is tighten it.
”How was I supposed to know this would happen?”
”At this point we should all just assume that you will find trouble anywhere.” He readies his stance. ”Okay, kid. This is going to suck. Big time. But you have to try to stay still.”
Peter gulps nervously and tenses underneath Sam’s hands. ”Okay. Here we go. Three, two-” Sam tightens the zip tie. And he was right. It does suck. Peter screams so loud the sound bounces off the walls and starts trashing, trying to get away from the pain.
Once it’s finally tight enough, Sam takes his hands off Peter’s leg and pet’s them across Peter’s chest. ”Hey, Peter, breathe, it’s done, just breathe-.”
A hand on the back of Sam’s shirt pulls him away from the teen. ”Alright, that’s enough.”
What he does next is stupid and could get them all killed but he gets tunnel vision and the only thing he can think of is that he can’t let them take Peter. He can’t. If they’re ready and willing to shoot him right in front of Sam they are more than ready to do worse where no one will be able to see it. Stark still has approximately ten minutes to get here, from what Sam can understand. They’ll be out of here with Peter long before that.
Tall-guy is the trigger happy one and Short-guy seems like he’s just in it for the money. Less likely to actually use the gun. Then again Sam could be wrong. But he doesn’t have time to think about it now that Tall-guy has his own gun trained on the floor, right next to Sam, where he could grab it.
And he does.
He rips the gun out of Tall-guy’s hand, spins around and kicks his legs from underneath him. And fires the gun immediately, clipping the robber in the shoulder. The man goes down nonetheless, a hand on the bleeding wound, screaming and grunting. Sam immediately turns to Short-guy and aims the gun at him.
And to Sam’s surprise, Short-guy puts his hands up, dropping his own gun to the floor. ”Look, wait, man! I only wanted the hundred grand! I don’t want to kidnap anybody.”
Tall-guy keeps screaming his head off.
Instead of acknowledging Short-guy with a response, Sam nods his head at the gun on the floor. ”Kick it over.” The robber does, and Sam picks it up, now pointing a gun at each of the men.
”Argh-,” Tall-guy grumbles from the floor. ”you fucking asshole! You shot-”
”And I’m about to do it again, if you don’t shut the hell up right now.” He lowers the gun trained on Tall-guy just a little. ”The next one goes in the knee.” He parrots the robber’s words from earlier.
Sam looks at Short-guy again. ”Tie your hands.” Short guy all but jumps at the chance. His wrists are zip-tied in no time, and Sam narrows his eyes at the man. ”What’s your play here? Huh?”
Short-guy shakes his head. ”I didn’t sign up for this, I’m not going against Iron Man.” He gulps. ”I-, I only came here to get easy money. My- my daughter, she-”
”Shut the hell up-” Tall-guy bellows but a small voice cuts him off.
”Is-, is she okay?” Peter is watching Short-guy with imploring eyes.
”Do not fucking tell them anything!” Writhing on the floor pathethically, Tall-guy sets his murderous eyes on Sam. ”You think I don’t have connections? So, I didn’t get the money now but you can bet there are a lot of people that are willing to pay for information on that bastard. He’s on the radar now, Mister Falcon. ” His moniker is said like it’s a joke.
”Shut the fu-”
He turns to Peter. ”It’ll be no time at all before everyone and their cousin knows about you, you stupid little brat. I’ll sell you out to anyone willing to listen and I’ll get my money either way. Then I’ll come and get daddy’s money too. I’ll see you soon, boy.”
The hair at the back of Sam’s nape pricks up when he hears a small click. And there on the hand that had previously been clutching a bleeding shoulder, sits a metal canister that starts emitting thick smoke. Brandishing the gun, Sam tries to take a shot at the guy again, this time in the leg but Tall-guy throws the canister at him and the bullet misses its mark. There’s another click and the smoke in the room gets so thick that Sam can’t see anything.
The room explodes with commotion. The other hostages start screaming again and running for the doors. Amidst the thundering footsteps Sam can’t make out whether the robbers are still in the room or not.
”Mr. Wilson? Mr.-” a cough. ”Mr. Wilson?”
Sam leaps for Peter. He can barely see Peter’s panicked eyes through the haze of smoke. The kid coughs again and Sam lifts the front of his hoodie to his face to try and filter out the smoke that the kid is inhaling.
”Peter, I’m gonna lift you.” He can barely make out the kid shaking his head. But Sam can’t relent. ”We gotta go. I’m sorry.” As Sam positions his arm underneath Peter’s knees, the kid groans through gritted teeth. ”I know, I know, I’m sorry. Tony’ll be here any minute now.”
He grabs the front of Peter’s hoodie again and then hoists the kid over his shoulder without a warning. The teen screams again and tries to dislodge Sam’s hold on him. ”Stop! S-stop!”
”I’m sorry. I can't, I’m sorry. We have to get out.”
Getting worked up, Peter starts coughing again but this time the coughing doesn’t let up and what little air gets back in Peter’s lungs, wheezes its way through. It’s the asthma. After discharging Peter from the medbay, Tony shoved an inhaler to every hand on sight, including Sam’s. The damn thing is in his car though, and wouldn’t do anything in this smoke anyway.
The robbers have gotten away. Sam knows this even before he walks out the door and into the chilly autumn air with no trouble. Peter is crying and groaning on his shoulder but Sam only lets him down once he reaches his truck. The kid grunts as he’s lowered to the ground against the backseat door of the driver’s side, biting his lip so roughly that Sam is afraid he might actually do some damage. He puts a hand on Peter’s cheek and taps it gently. ”Kid, Pete, it’s okay, we’re done. I’m gonna get your inhaler. Try to take some breaths.”
To the kid’s defense, he does try but only a wheeze goes in before all the air is coughed back out. Sam opens the door to his car and fishes the emergency inhaler out of the glove box.
It is only then that the first of the police cars swerves in front of the building. Sam pays them no mind though, pressing the inhaler to Peter’s trembling lips. ”C’mon, Pete, you know what to do.”
The first inhale of the medicine is nearly nonexistent, but then Peter greedily tries again. And again. Until finally the desperate wheezing tapers out and the kid’s lungs start expanding properly.
The officers at the scene are conducting frantic parameter checks from what Sam can hear. One of them runs up to him and Peter.
”Hey! You guys oka-, oh jesus.” The officer’s eyes widen at the sight of Peter and his bloody leg.
”We need an ambulance. They shot him.”
The police woman’s eyes widen even further at the sight of Sam, recognition sparking across her features. She grabs her radio phone. ”We need a medic here, asap. We got a young male with a GSW. To the thigh.” She crouches down and takes a closer look at the mess that is Peter’s leg. ”Heavy bleeding, but the wound has been compressed.”
Peter flinches and eyes Sam, his bottom lip trembling.
”You’re okay.” The kid’s hand shakes when Sam grabs it to check Stark’s ETA on the watch. 1 minute and 12 seconds.
The familiar sound of Iron Man’s armor fills the air as Sam sees the red dot on the sky hurtling towards them. He taps Peter's good knee. ”Incoming, kid.”
The sight of the suit landing with a reverberating boom never ceases to amaze him, but he will never tell Stark that. The police officer lets out a surprised ’oh my’ at the sight of the glinting metal.
Knowing that Peter is in good hands, the right hands, Sam lunges for the trunk of his car to get his gear. As much as it pains Sam to admit it, Tall-guy was right. The information he now has on Peter is like gold, and he will try to trade it for money.
”Peter!” He hears Stark’s frantic voice and sees him rush out of the suit, making a beeline for the kid. If he’s surprised at seeing Sam there, he doesn’t show it. Instead he sends him a vicious glare when Sam approaches them with his own suit halfway on.
”What the hell happened!”
He’s got a surprisingly gentle hand on Peter’s cheek while the other is hovering over his bleeding leg.
”Mr. Stark-”
Placing a quick kiss on the kid’s unruly locks he shushes him. ”Shh, Peter. You’re okay. I got you.” He turns back to Sam. ”Well?”
”An armed robbery.” He’s clicking and tying the last parts of his suit together. ”They know who he is. To you. Peter had a picture of you.”
”What! And why was Peter here at all! You should’ve-”
”Jesus christ, mommy-”
”-called me! You know what hap-”
”-loosen the fucking grip-”
”-pened to him! And now he’s been sh-”
”Stark!” Sam finally yells. ”I don’t have time for this right now.” He attaches the final buckle in his harness. ”I gotta get in the air to find the guys who did this.”
It surprises him that Tony does actually quiet down then. Sam watches him wipe the tears from under Peter’s eyes that are set on Stark, and the kid’s whole posture has loosened, like he doesn’t have a single thing to worry about now that the engineer is here. The sight is almost as weird as yesterday when Peter got hit with the spell and Sam saw Tony get all parental for the first time.
”I wanna hear everything.” Tony’s voice leaves no room for argument. ”Give your info to FRIDAY. I’ll look into it as soon as I can.” He brushes the kid’s bangs out of his face.
Fitting his goggles on his head, Sam nods and takes to the sky.
—————————
Sam can’t find the perpetrators anywhere. It’s like they’ve gone up in smoke. Literally. Hoping Tony has better luck with tracking them down, he forwards all the knowledge he has to the A.I., not that he has much. Nevertheless, Sam is confident they’ll find them sooner rather than later. In the meantime, though, he’s got some shopping to do.
When Peter wakes up after surgery, the first thing he sees upon opening his eyes are two hovering, worried adults, and a brand new box containing the Lego millenium falcon. Sam’s not going to go to another bank with Peter anytime soon. But he could be persuaded into helping to stack some Lego pieces together.