Resolution

“Peter! PETE! C’mon, kid, open up those baby browns for me,” a voice coaxed him out of the darkness even as hands ran through his hair, down over his shoulders. Those hands grasped his shoulders, then shook. “Peter Parker! I swear, if you do not wake up right now I’m gonna revoke all your lab privileges and force you to drink Dum-E’s smoothies the next time we do a movie night! Come on!”

But the quiet called out to him.

Another rough shake, and then the voice resorted to tearful pleading. “Kid. Please don’t do this to me! Just don’t! You know my heart can’t take this much stress!“

That caught his attention. Even barely coherent, Peter registered, then worried at the words, needed to check on...something? He groaned, eyelids fluttered and then barely opened before clamping them shut tight against the raindrops splashing against his face.

“OH, shit! Sorry, sorry! Here you go, Pete! I’ve got you covered!” The rain stopped and the voice spoke more firmly as a warm hand cupped his cheek. “Geez, kid, you’ve got me making umbrellas out of trash. I think that deserves a wake up.”

Peter whined in response.

The voice kept encouraging, “I know, kiddo, I know, but can you look at me, real quick?”

“Mmm.” Peter tried to focus, finally registering that this was someone he knew... someone safe. Mr. Stark? It didn’t matter, though. Peter couldn’t help but find the weight of sleep too inviting. “M’tired.”

The hand, Mr. Stark, jostled him again. “I know you are, baby, but it’s not sleepy time for spider babies. Up you get, Petie.” He was sounding desperate, “C’mon. Time wake up and head home.”

That sounded nice, in that far off in another reality sort of way. But Peter blanked out again before he could say, could process nothing of what was going on around him. Then, in a swirl of confusion, he was back and all he could process was that he really wanted the shaking to stop so he could rest. He struggled weakly, trying to fight off the hands keeping him from his goal. “No,” he whined out. “St’p—“

“Hey, hey, hey!” The rain returned, and someone grabbed his hands, holding them tight to their chest. “Relax, Pete! It’s just me—Tony! I need you to wake up, remember?”

Disoriented now, either by the cold or exhaustion or that Mr. Stark wasn’t supposed to be there if Peter’s gut was right, Peter kept fighting back, or trying—his barely there strength was waning.

“Damn it, FRI! How far out are Cap and Happy?!”

And then it clicked, maybe not for the first time? “Ms’r St’k...?” He’d been there before, right? Was he calling for help? Peter vaguely hoped if he was that it was coming soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off—

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me. It’s Mr. Stark, Peter! Are you with me? Help’s almost here, so stay awake! We’re gonna get you to the tower and make sure you’re okay—warm you up nice and toasty. Does that sound good to you?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. Warm sounded good but sleeping sounded better. The fight left him and his head lolled to the side.

A hand grabbed at his chin, gave his head a shake. “Woah! No! That is not okay, kid! Up, up, up!”

Tires screeched in the background, car doors slammed, and rapid footsteps splashed through puddles as they came closer and closer.

The hand moved from his face.

“What the hell took you so long!?” Mr. Stark yelled. “You know what? Never mind! Happy! Go crank the heat in the back and grab an emergency blanket from the kit! Now! Cap!” Mr. Stark barked out orders while Peter was shifted about. “Get over here and help me get him to the car!”

More hands were on him now, touching his face.

“He’s so cold!” Was that Cap? How—what?

“I know! His temp was still reading cold from last night, so I’m just a little concerned. Now let’s stop the chatter and go, go, go!”

Peter couldn’t find it within himself to care as he was suddenly lifted up into the air and then pressed against a wall of heat. “There you go, son.”

Something clicked his haze only because it sounded so wrong—Peter was no one’s son. His dad was dead, Ben was dead, and he’d been alone until he wasn’t because there was still—“Mis’r St’rk?!” Peter called out, suddenly in distress.

“I’m still here, Peter.” Mr. Stark, he was sure now, took hold of his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re gonna get you safe now, okay?”

Peter nodded as he nuzzled into the heat. “’M’kay.”

He tried to sleep again, but the jostling of the slow jog in the rain kept him from fully succumbing. The trade off from the arms that had carried him into the arms of his mentor cemented his return to semi-coherence and he flailed in panic at the transfer. “Wha’s goin’ on?!” He questioned as he tried to make sense of what was going on.

Mr. Stark held him securely to his chest as Happy leaned through the car door to cover him with an irritatingly crinkly thermal blanket. “We’re getting you back to the med bay, Peter, where we’re going to warm you up and wrap you in so many damned blankets; you’re not going to be able to move for a year.” Mr. Stark planted a big kiss firmly on the top of Peter’s head then pressed his cheek to Peter’s wet hair. “But once we do that, and as soon as you’re up for it, we’re going to have a long-ass discussion about why you decided to take a runner in the middle of the damned night.” Mr. Stark kissed his hair again.

Car doors slammed. “Cho’s waiting for us.” Happy announced as he threw the car into gear and sped through the wet streets of Manhattan. “I told her you did an initial search for injuries but she’s got a team ready to double check, just in case. ETA five minutes... unless I can run a red or two.”

Mr. Stark squeezed him tighter. “Thanks, Happy.” Mr. Stark cleared his throat. “And thanks, Steve, for helping out. I really appreciated the extra set of eyes on the ground.”

“No thanks necessary, Tony. I owed you one for letting the kid get past me in the first place.” Peter heard the man chuckle. “I need to do better at reminding myself he’s not a regular sixteen year old, though.”

Peter squirmed in embarrassment at the comment, drawing Mr. Stark’s attention. “Kid? Are you okay?”

Peter burrowed into the blanket and pressed his face against Mr. Stark’s soaked shirt and whispered, “’m sor’y.”

Mr. Stark leaned in, “I’m sorry, Roo. I didn’t catch that?”

He whispered only a little louder, “I said, ’m sorry.” Peter’s body gave an involuntary shiver. “For punchin’ Cap’n Rogers in the face.”

Mr. Stark’s eyes widened at that, “How did I forget hearing about that?! FRIDAY,” he addressed his ever omnipresent AI. “Please be sure to save that video footage to my ‘Guilty Pleasures’ album.” No reply came, but Peter knew it had been done.

Peter could hear the smile in Captain Rogers’ voice as he ignored Mr. Stark’s jab and answered. “It’s forgiven and forgotten, Peter. You, uh...” His tone shifted. “You seemed a little desperate when you left. I hope, if there’s anything I or any of the other Avengers can do, that you’ll let us know. You’re a part of the team, champ, official or not.”

Peter couldn’t think of a reply... couldn’t think of much at all, so he closed his eyes and snuggled in... or tried to.

“Whoa! That’s a hard no, Peter.” Mr. Stark adjusted Peter roughly in his arms, bringing him to a more upright position. “Absolutely no sleeping until we’ve cleared you for head injuries, and we’re almost there, so you’re going to have to tough it out. Got it?”

Peter grumbled a “Got it,” then mumbled, “but ’m fine now.” And really! He was. Peter was sure of it.

Tony ruffled his wet mop of hair, sending water droplets flying, “I can hear you trying to convince yourself, kid, but we have no idea what happened to you between when you left and when we found you so you’ll have to put up with our erring on the side of caution.”

But even for his exhaustion, Peter knew what had happened. “I was fine,” he repeated. “Jus’ cold.”

Happy scoffed from the front seat, “Yeah, that’s why Tony found you collapsed and unconscious in a back alley. Now try pullin’ my other leg, Pete.”

“I’m not lyin’.” Peter whined back. “Though’ it was an un’er twen’y-one club, an’ tried to hide. Tha’s all.”

Mr. Stark pressed for more. “So no one touched you, spoke to you, gave you trouble?”

Peter shook his head in denial, “No,” then remembered. “’Cept Libby.”

Everyone froze at the mention of that name until Mr. Stark broke the brief silence. “Libby?” Mr. Stark all but snarled. “Are we talking about the same Libby that should be slapped with a warning label, Libby? And how in hell would you have talked to her?”

He curled in himself a little as flashes of the conversation came to him, “Yeah. She was a’th’ club... asked her t’ help.” Peter shrugged small. “She said no.”

Again, no one said anything and Peter was grateful for the silence even if they wouldn’t let him take advantage.

“Two minutes out, Boss.” Happy whispered now. “I’m heading to the underground lot. More privacy, and Cho’s got a gurney waiting for us.”

Peter groaned in protest.

Tony hugged Peter close, “Hush now. Humour an old man—“ A couple of throats cleared in the front seat. “Make that a few old men and let us make sure you’re okay... please?”

“’M fine,” Peter pouted. Why couldn’t they see that he simply needed to sleep?

“Alright, if you say so.”

Peter’s blinks grew longer and no one seemed to notice.

“About to pull in, Boss.”

It seemed impossible now, to keep his eyes open.

“Medical incoming.”

And Peter slipped back into the darkness.