Can't go home
Admittedly, he didn’t run nearly as far or even as fast as he wanted to. The storm had definitely lightened up but the rain was still falling pretty steadily, and with Peter still not completely thawed from his last misadventure. He tried to ignore the ice water pelting against his skin. He kept moving though, through the empty streets, needing the put enough distance between him and, well, everyone so he could catch his breath. He managed to keep a steady pace for a full thirty minutes, if he had to guess, before he figured that no one was following him. Peter slowed. A sluggish walk felt more manageable anyways.
As the fear of being caught and brought back to Mr. Stark eased, rational thought kicked in, or at least as rational as Peter could be in moments of high emotional stress. Peter really hadn’t thought beyond the whole leaving part of his master plan.
That thought had him stopped dead in his tracks. Peter looked down at the sopping wet clothing clutched to his chest and then groaned as he imagined the contents in his now twice soaked backpack. And then Peter looked up, only catching a glimpse of a clock on the wall of a 24-hour convenience store across the street—Holy crap! How in the heck could it be 2:45 in the morning!? He’d screwed up royally, needed that plan, and fast! If he could just get far away from everyone!
Peter shuddered as the rain dripped through his soaked hair and ran down his back.
What he really needed was to get out of the rain... then he needed... crap! He could barely think for the new panic overtaking him. He needed...?
It was official. Peter Parker was an idiot. He closed his eyes in defeat. Peter needed to go home.
He glanced around, taking in his surroundings fully for the first time. He mumbled a quiet ‘fuck.’ Home, it seemed, was going to be at least a solid one hour walk thanks to his brief attempt at misdirection to dodge capture, but as he took those first steps, he recalculated. He was so damned tired and he’d get there when he got there, he decided. Peter adjusted his hold on the clothing in his arms, hoisted his waterlogged backpack higher up on his back, and started his trek to Queens.
He’d only trudged a couple of blocks, when he was startled by the muted sound of Stevie Wonder singing, “I just called to say I love you. I just called to say how much I care.”
He’d have laughed at the irony of the rush of gratitude for the newest, extra durable model StarkPhone as gifted from the mentor that he was determined to run away from forever—if only his throat wasn’t tightening with a grief. Peter desperately tried to tamp it down, but failed. His vision blurred, either from the sudden onslaught of tears, fatigue, or the rain that was starting to fall heavier again. Peter didn’t care. He scrambled to pull the phone from his backpack pocket, fumbling only a little as his fingers trembled to answer. “May?”
“Peter! Thank God!” Aunt May cried through the phone. “Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe?” She bombarded him with question after question. “Honey, Tony called me and told me you took off! What’s going on? Why’d you leave? Do I need to leave work to come get you? I can have an uber here in ten minutes. And why the hell did you punch Captain America in the face?!”
He didn’t know where to start. “I—um, I’m o-o-okay.” When had his teeth started chattering? “D-don’t leave work ‘cuz of m-m-me. I’m fine. I j-j-just needed to g-go, I guess.”
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Peter could hear the disapproval in her voice. “You just needed to go.”
He nodded a ‘yes’ and then realized, “Mhm,” he mumbled.
“You guess.”
“Mhm.”
He could imagine this being the exact moment that May dropped her face into her hand and prayed to whatever saint that dealt with dumbasses that she wouldn’t murder her nephew. “Peter Benjamin Parker. Where are you at this exact moment?”
Peter scanned the street he was on, then rattled off its name along with the street number and name of the store he was standing in front of. He knew there’d be hell to pay if he didn’t.
She releases a slow, loud breath. “Okay. I’m texting Tony the information and he’s coming to get you right now, okay?”
“What?! NO!”
But May was having none of it. “Look, Peter. You’re telling me to stay at work but you’re obviously freezing your ass off, it’s pouring rain, and you’re still miles from home. In what world would I not call Tony to help, huh?”
“Please d-don’t!” He begged as he tucked the phone under his chin and adjusted his bag.
Something in her voice softened then. “Honey, is it because you’re mad at him? He told me that he’d apologized—was that a lie?”
“N-n-no, but—“
“Okay then?” She thought for a second, “Are you being mistreated? Abused? Bullied?”
What? “N-no.”
“Experimented on? Starved?”
“M-May? Wh-what are you t-talkin’ ‘b-bout? Mister St-stark would n-never—”
She cut him off. “I’m talking about how you have no good reason to have left when you’re supposed to be recovering at the tower under medical supervision. You had hypothermia, Peter. You don’t mess around with that! Now. I’m pretty sure that Tony should be there in a minute or two so can you do me a favour? Be a sweetheart, behave, and apologize for the drama? Alright? Tony’s got a lot on his plate right now. He was pretty freaked out about what happened with Pepper, okay?”
“B-b-but—“ How could he make her understand. He WAS trying to help Mr. Stark out—save him and everyone that Peter loved from Peter himself! “M-May, please!”
“No, mister. I’m not messing around here.” May was putting her foot down. “Even if I wasn’t at the hospital tonight, I’d probably take you straight back to the tower myself, so no funny business. Got it?”
Peter didn’t get it.
And then, even over the ever falling rain, Peter heard the familiar sounds of the Iron Man suit and knew what he had to do.
“No.”
“No?” May snapped. “What’s that supposed to mean. I swear on my life, Peter, if you think you can—“
Peter didn’t think before he cut her off. “Sorry, M-May. Gotta g-g-go.” He’d intended to simply disconnect, but in his panic he crushed the phone in his hands. With nothing to be done for it, he dropped the phone on the sidewalk where he stood. Then, without a thought to the consequences of his actions, Peter did the only thing he could do.
He ran again.