Classified
Tony
It’s been five days since Tony’s seen one of his co-workers.
He's only seen the inside of a bottle. He's only been able to hear the incessant beeping of his equipment as he builds and invents for days on end. And all of it is entirely his fault. When the nightmares became unbearable and his fake smile couldn't persuade everyone that he was fine, he dragged himself in and refused to leave. When he can't bear to look in the mirror, these four walls are the only thing that provides him with any comfort.
His phone on the side of his desk lights up, while the rest of the room remains black. Coming out of a two-hour nap, he blinks a few times. He's still tired, but at least his head is clearer now, and his eyes aren't flooded with dazzling lights that shouldn't be there. Tony stands up and comes over to his desk, groaning. His eyes squint as they adjust to the new source of light as he takes up the phone and reads it.
It’s a text from Bruce.
1:03AM- ‘I’ve left some food out in the main kitchen. Please go and get some. You need it. Don’t worry about having to talk. I’ve left it and gone to bed. We’ll talk when you’re ready.’
Bruce is concerned about him. He usually is, but this time it appears to be much worse. Perhaps he believes that past events might repeat themselves and that being surrounded by a new group of people has sent him into a profound sadness that he can’t get out of. Tony speculates this is the case, but he can’t know for sure. Bruce has always been tough to read since he’s much like Tony himself. He keeps things secret, only delving into personal issues when he deems it’s necessary.
It’s not entirely true that Tony’s at rock bottom. Sure, he’s sad. And it has got worse. But that’s not because of Clint’s kids. It’s because they remind him so much of his childhood and the fact that he’ll never have a happy family as Clint has. Because Pepper’s barely still with him, and there’s no way she’d ever have a child with him. Not like he wants one- because he’d make the worst parent known to man. But sometimes he’ll have the odd dream of taking his kid down to the garage and teaching them all he knows. Just like his old man did with him- on the odd occasion where he could bear to be around Tony for more than 5 minutes at a time.
Tony shrugs off his lab coat, cringing at the smell. He grabs the first jacket he can see and throws it over the old clothes he’s been wearing for days. He relies on muscle memory to get him where he’s supposed to be, feeling like he’s not there when he steps outside for the first time. It’s late, so at least the sun doesn’t hurt his eyes. But the feeling of the ground underneath his feet and not commercial stone flooring is weird, and he has to remind himself that it’s okay to leave and that he’ll be fine.
When he enters the house, the smell of the food draws him to the kitchen. There are several dishes on the table, all of which are Tony's favourites. It must have taken Bruce, or the chefs, a long time to make everything. It’s nice of them to do this for him, but Tony knows that most of it will end up in the trash. There's too much for him to eat on his own, but that doesn't mean he's willing to call someone down to help him.
Grabbing the closest plate (a cheeseburger with some good-looking chips on the side), Tony sits up on the stool and takes a bite. The first swallow is like magic, his eyes fluttering as the flavours hit his mouth. If he had the energy he would run up to Bruce and hug him. But he doesn’t, so for now he just indulges.
It’s thirty minutes later (when he’s two plates down) that he hears the kitchen door creak. He looks over, wondering who would be up at this time in the morning when he sees Peter Parker step in. He’s dressed in some old pyjamas and when Tony gets a proper look, he realises his eyes are stained red. Either he’s been smoking weed in Tony’s building or he’s just finished crying. Tony assumes it’s the latter. Peter doesn’t strike him as the rebellious type.
“…Mr Stark?” he hears.
“Hi, kid,” Tony sighs. He pulls out a stool for Peter to sit on. Even if he doesn’t want to talk to anyone, or if seeing the kid again was the last thing he wanted, he wasn’t going to send him away looking like this. He doesn’t know why he’s here, but he knows he’s sad and Tony isn’t a monster. “Hungry?”
“I am, but I saw Mr Banner making all of this for you so I’m not going to take it,” Peter says, a clear tone of sadness in his voice as he speaks.
Tony recognises it immediately. Tony sounds like it too when he wakes from a nightmare, remembering the constant failures he’s made across his life. He hopes the kid hasn’t had similar experiences. He seems way too innocent for all of that.
Peter adjusts his sleeves, before scurrying over and jumping into the open seat. His eyes stare at the food, and Tony swears he could see some drool. It’s tasty food, and there’s plenty of it to take, and Tony isn’t one to gatekeep. Especially when it’s something he didn’t even make.
“…You really think I’m going to eat all of this?” Tony asks. Peter looks over, a small smile spreading over his lips. He shrugs. “Jesus, Pete. Just take some food, okay?” And as if Peter needed clarification that he’s allowed to eat, he grabs the nearest plate to himself and takes a bite. He has a similar reaction to Tony, eating so quickly he should be choking.
“Sorry for interrupting you. I didn’t think anyone would be down here,” Peter says. He finishes his bite and goes in for another, finishing off the plate in record time. “Am I allowed to take any of the snacks too? I’m starving.”
“Take what you need, but slow down. I’m not liable if you start choking,” Tony says, grabbing a box of cereal bars. He places the box in front of Peter, nudging it towards him. “And it’s fine. You’re not interrupting, I was just about to leave anyway.”
He wasn't, but he just says that because he doesn't want Peter to feel bad—his eyes are so bright, and Tony understands that rejection simply dims them. He recalls how it felt to turn down Peter's request to work in the lab. He reiterated to himself that it was for Peter's own safety, but the only reason he said no was for himself. He isn't prepared to let down his guard, even if Peter had made him laugh and smile. Which is something rare these days.
“…Could you stay?”
Tony looks over and realises just how small Peter’s making himself. When he opens the cereal bar, his hands are shaking so much he can’t get into it. Tony takes it out of his grip and opens it for him, putting it back into his hands when he’s done. “Sure,” he says. Which surprises even him. When Steve, or Bruce, or anyone else, would ask him to get out of the lab and sit with them it would always be a resounding no. But the way Peter’s looking up at him, so scared- but with so much want for appreciation and companionship- he can’t help but say yes.
“Thank you,” Peter whispers, before taking another bite.
“Do they not feed you here or something?” Tony asks, looking at the dent Peter’s made. “I pay a lot for these chefs, so if they’re not doing their job then-,”
“No, no- they’re fine. They’re good,” Peter says, quick to intercept. “I just- well, there’s not a lot of food at home so I try and eat as much as I can when I can.” He puts the food down, staring at the bottom of his shoes which are barely keeping together.
Tony frowns. The kid’s struggling, and he can tell that his family must be too. He's never had to cope with anything like that himself. It was a privilege to be born into wealth and then to make more money than his family ever had by his own inventions. He is aware of this. If you don't consider the Wakandan royals, he's probably the richest person on the planet. He has no idea what it's like to live without money, and judging by Peter's broken expression, he knows it must be miserable.
“Take some home with you,” Tony says. He gets up from his seat and grabs a plastic carrier bag from the cupboard. He starts stuffing it with food when he hears Peter whimper. He looks up and he looks like he’s barely holding it together. Tony drops the bag, staring. He doesn’t know how to handle this. “Are you okay, kid?”
“I’m fine,” Peter answers quickly. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t need your charity.”
“Charity? It’s not charity.”
“It is,” Peter says. “And I don’t need it. I can take care of my family and I don’t need handouts. We don’t need anything.”
Tony sighs. Why are kids so damn stubborn? He thought he was being helpful by offering some food. If he’s not eating properly then getting some produce from here, for free, was a good thing. Right? He places the bag down, food still inside it, and walks back over. “You don’t need to look after your family. Your parents should be doing that for you.”
“My parents are dead,” Peter says. He doesn’t say it quietly. He says it like he’s had to say it so many times before. Tony assumes they must’ve been gone for a while in that case, and now he feels like an asshole for bringing it up. But he supposes Peter’s used to it like he is with his own. He doesn’t seem mad at all. “Uncle too. It’s just me and my aunt.”
“Well, then. Your aunt should be taking care of you.”
“She tries,” Peter says, taking one last bite of his cereal bar before it’s gone. He still looks so sad, but Tony has no idea how to cheer him up- and now he looks pissed off. Because Tony’s just insulted his struggling aunt for doing nothing, when she probably works day in and day out to try and makes things easier for them. “But it’s hard to pay for an apartment, bills, food, clothes, books and everything I need when you’re not a billionaire, Mr Stark.”
“Touché,” Tony says. He bites his lip. “Where do you live? I could buy your apartment building. No bills and no rent, which sounds good. Would that help?”
Peter rolls his eyes. “What part of ‘I’m not a charity case’ did you not hear? You don’t have to buy my apartment building. You know that money isn’t the answer all the time, right?”
Tony decides to change the topic of conversation, his own privileges blindsiding him from saying the right thing. To distract Peter from whatever made him so sad, Tony realises he should probably steer away from his upbringing. Also, the fact that the room is so silent right now makes him feel uneasy. He needs to change that or leave. But the kid asked him to stay so he was right where he needed to be.
“So… Group project. How’s that going?”
“It’s good. We present in a week,” Peter says.
“Does that mean no more visits over here or are you and Cooper besties now?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘besties.’ I’d personally say, ‘best friends’,” Peter replies. “So, yeah. I might be back here. If Cooper wants me.”
“…and… are you feeling okay? I know you said you were fine, but those eyes are redder than mine were back in my college days. And I don’t think you’re the type to get stoned. Unless I’m wrong that is, and you were sneaking out for a drag? That would be a good reason for why you were up at 1AM- everyone else is asleep, perfect timing for some teenage rebellion,” Tony says.
Tony’s proud of himself. Look at him breaking the cycle and talking to kids about their feelings. He knew he’d get there one day. Just took a whole bunch of traumas and a kid who he can bear to speak to for more than five minutes without wanting to pull his hair out.
“…Did you just ask me if I did weed in the avengers compound? Are you serious?” Peter asks, his mouth open in shock.
“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it,” Tony shrugs. His eyes go wide as he realises that he just promoted drugs to a fifteen-year-old. He bites his lip, quick to defend himself from his own lack of filter. This is why he hates being around kids. He never knows how to act. “Pretend I didn’t just say that. Abstain from drugs, kid. Stay in school.”
Peter laughs. “Okay, Mr Stark.”
“But… still, you haven’t answered. Why are you up at 1AM with red eyes? Did someone say something? I’ve got great lawyers. New kids on the block, but they’re great. Can get you acquitted for anything; I’ve heard. Even took down Kingpin. Now, that’s something else. What I’m saying is that if I had to threaten a kid, it wouldn’t be the end of my career.”
“It’s nothing. Just nightmares,” Peter answers truthfully, or so Tony thinks. “And why are you acting all protective over me suddenly? I thought you hated me.”
“We’ve only spoken once. How could I hate you?”
“I-I don’t know- I just,” Peter says. “I’m sorry. I- I just thought you did, and I didn’t know what I did.” He looks like he’s about to cry. It stresses Tony out.
“I don’t hate you,” Tony says. “Please don’t cry. Bruce uses a lot of salt on his dishes, you don’t need to add more to it.” Peter looks so insecure, tightening his hands around his waist. He’s staring at his food. Tony suddenly feels guilty. “I mean it, Peter. I don’t hate you. Ask Cooper. I just don’t get along with kids that much.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“Oh, not this again,” Tony rolls his eyes.
“I mean it, Mr Stark. I’m not a kid. Sure, I am in a physical sense. But you have no idea what I’ve been through. I’m not a kid anymore,” Peter says. He gets up, glancing over at the bag like he really wants to grab it. Tony wonders if he’s not taking it to prove a point. “So, don’t patronise me. I don’t want us to be best friends, I’d just appreciate it if you didn’t look at me like I still need help getting changed. I’m going to go back to bed now.”
Tony keeps an eye on him as he walks away. He does seem to be quite thin. He's in need of assistance, and he's not going to take it only to prove a point. Tony wants to help him, but will his presence only make things worse? It was Peter who said it; He’s gone through a lot in his life and he’s only fifteen. What if someone sees Peter with him and decides to make him their new target? He can’t put that target on Peter’s head. Kids are already going missing at an alarming rate recently. Hell, Clint’s kids themselves could’ve been the latest if he hadn’t caught that man in their youngest’s room. It’s a scary time right now. For crime, and in Tony’s own head. Bringing a mentee into that mess would cause chaos.
“Peter?” Tony calls after him.
“What?” he replies, with an attitude that would prove Tony’s point that he’s still very much youthful. He decides not to argue that right now.
“Please take the food with you.”
“…Why?”
“I want you to. It would go in the waste if you don’t. Better with you then it is in the bin.”
Peter sighs. He walks back over and grabs the handles. “Thank you,” he whispers. He gets to the door. “See you soon, Mr Stark.”
Tony thinks he just might. “Yeah, kid. See you soon.”
---------------------------------------------------------
Peter… the next morning
RESIDENTS CALL FOR ACTION AS ANOTHER KID GOES MISSING
In a series of seemingly random kidnappings, an eight-year-old girl is the newest victim. Her mother had just looked aside for one second before she was abducted at a neighbourhood park. The police have issued a warning to everyone to keep a watchful eye on the situation. Keep your doors locked and your children safe, and if you spot anything suspicious, stand back and contact the authorities right away.…
As he sits on the subway, Peter reads the latest headline on his phone. He glances around after the first paragraph of the article to see that he's the only one his age on the train. Other children are clearly imprisoned within their own bedrooms by their worried parents. May would protect him if she could, but she doesn't have the time to play bodyguard.
Several children have been kidnapped recently. Most have returned since, having been used for ransom money. But nobody wants their kid to go through that, even if most return unharmed. However, because they've only been taken from rich households so far, Peter knows he'll be alright. Even if he wasn’t, he’d easily be able to fight back.
Last night, he slept at Cooper's place. His back still feels like it's in the clouds, and the mattress he slept on felt like something out of a dream. He frowns up at his apartment as he walks off the train with his bags and the food Tony offered him. It's bizarre to be here almost, given how different it is from where he's just been.
He enters and unloads his bags before peering into May's room, where she is sound asleep on her bed. He lets her rest whilst replacing the bucket to prevent the leak from becoming a stream in their living room. He smiles as he puts the food away, noting how full their fridge now appears to be. He wants to thank Tony repeatedly, but this is insignificant to him. He did it not because he wanted to help, but because it was the decent thing to do. Right?
Peter hasn’t been out as Spider-Man recently. So when he gets out his phone and re-reads the article from earlier, he feels guilty. If he had been out there, he could’ve stopped it. But now people are hurt, and it’s all his fault.
The reason he hasn’t put the suit on is that Natasha’s been watching his every move since the first time they met. She hasn’t got bored, obviously wanting to find some dirt on him. With everything going on, the whole team is on edge about Clint’s kids. But do they seriously believe that the mastermind behind all of it is a fifteen-year-old kid? Sure, Peter and May struggle for money but he hasn’t ever felt that he should extort kids for their parent’s cash.
He knows when she’s there, his spider-sense telling him somebody’s watching. So it’s either he’s being stalked by someone else, or Natasha’s still is on his case. Has he not proved his innocence yet? He’s done nothing suspicious since he knew she was there, surely that’s enough to prove he’s good enough to be around Cooper.
Because she’s always around, Peter’s one output for stress has been lost. Not being able to be Spider-Man is like having an itch that just won’t go away. He needs to be out there. He needs to do good, or how else could he keep Ben’s legacy alive? How else would the people of Queens stay safe without their friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man? It may be egotistical to believe they’re better with him, but it’s true. He’s seen the statistics. Queens needs Spider-Man…
…Peter needs Spider-Man.
He gives up hiding. He runs as fast as he can out of his house, not thinking about where he’s going. He slips into an alleyway and gets changed. He’s lost her for now, and finally, he can start swinging. He decides that maybe it’s a good for him to speak to her about it. Maybe if Spider-Man gets involved, he could ‘vouch’ for Peter… even if they’re the same person.
“Oh, hey- Spider-Man,” Natasha says, sitting on top of a rooftop. She’s obviously trying to be on the lookout, watching the street like Peter’s an escaped convict that needs catching immediately. “I’ve noticed you haven’t patrolled in a while.”
“Been busy,” Peter says, swinging down beside her. He puts on his deepest voice, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ve come to tell you to leave my good friend Peter alone. I know him very well, ever since he’s a kid, and he’s told me that he’s terrified to leave his house because of you.”
“Is that right?” Natasha says, a smirk playing at her lips. Peter doesn’t see how this is funny. “Have you got a cold? You sound different.”
“It is that time of year. Everyone’s getting cold. Thought my wife was an intruder the other day.”
“You’re married?”
“…Yeah. Four years last Saturday.”
“So if I said I knew you were lying since you were ten years old four years ago…, how would you react?”
“I was eleven!” Peter says before he realises what she’s getting at. “Oh.”
“Hey, Peter. How are you?” Natasha smiles, leaning back.
Peter groans, sitting down next to her and throwing off his mask. He slumps down with a defeated sigh, now looking Natasha Romanoff, who he’d only met in passing, in the eye. How on earth did she already figure him out? He didn’t want her to know. He didn’t want anyone to. Would she tell Clint his secret? He had so many questions, but right now he couldn’t get past how?
Why was he an idiot to even come up to her? He should’ve just waited it out, and now two people know his secret. And one of those was an Avenger. What the hell has he got himself involved with?
“Was I that obvious?” he asks her.
“I was already suspicious. I remember everyone’s voices, and we both knew we had heard you before. Just didn’t know from where until you just came over and told me to stop stalking yourself. You need to work on the whole ‘incognito’ thing.”
“It’s been working so far,” Peter grumbles, annoyed at himself that he dropped himself in it. “Please don’t tell anyone, miss. I can’t- I don’t need people knowing. No offence but all the Avengers knowing about me would be my worst nightmare.”
Natasha looks at him, eyes zoning in on a bad bruise that’s only visible when his sleeve rides up. “So, you’re fifteen? I’d be a hypocrite if I told you to stop based on that. I was younger, but then I never had a choice. If you continue trying to save everyone, you’re going to lose yourself. If we all knew, we could help you. We could make sure you have a normal childhood.”
“I’m never going to have a normal childhood, miss. I can climb walls. I can stop a bus with my bare hands. It’s never going to be normal. But if the team knew, what’s stopping me from getting involved with the legal side of things? They’d force me to reveal my identity to the world which would put May and my friends in danger. I’d have to live with a bunch of adults who couldn’t care less about me. I’d never graduate. Tell me what’s the most normal out of the two options. Please don’t tell them.”
Natasha sighs. “I won’t tell him. I won’t tell any of them. I’ll say you have the cleanest background I’ve ever seen. But if you’re lying to me, Peter. If there’s something you’re hiding from me, I will find out, and I swear I’ll tell them straight away…”
“I’m not, I swear! I just want to help. Like you guys do- but not in massive missions. I mean, I’ll obviously be there when they happen, but I just like to help with the little guy. That’s all.”
Natasha looks at him, “Oh, you’re just a kid,” she frowns. “Just like me. I don’t want to see you do this, but I know there’s no getting you out of it now.” She grabs a pen from her pocket and a post-it-note. He has no idea why she’s carrying those around. But, hey, they look practical. She writes down her number and an address. “Here. We’re going to do some training. I’ll text you when I’m available.”
Peter’s eyes go wide with delight. “Really?! Awesome!”
“Well, someone needs to teach you and if you’re not letting anyone else know then it has to be me. Doesn’t it?”
“I do appreciate it, miss Romanoff! This is so cool!”
Natasha smiles fondly. “Now, go out and save the day. But be careful. I don’t want to see you in a hospital bed anytime soon.”
“I’ll be fine!”
“See you later, Peter.”
Peter grabs his mask and throws it over his head. He swings from the building, excitement building in his chest. Being taught combat and how to be a successful superhero from none other than Natasha Romanoff herself felt like another fever dream. She was one of the coolest people alive, and now it looks like Peter was one of the select few that has gained her trust. Or a bit of it anyway.
Even though he thought that another person finding out was his worst nightmare, he feels weirdly happy that there’s an adult that knows who he is behind the mask. She’s strong, talented, and knows a lot more about saving the world than he does. With her help, he can be one of the best before he turns twenty.
Peter doesn’t do much that evening. He saves some bikes, helps a lady cross the road. He cleans up some rubbish that someone has let out and finds a missing dog. The dog licks his mask as he takes it home. The family’s happy tears warm his heart. It’s moments like these that he’s so happy to be Spider-Man. Bringing smiles onto to people’s faces is a luxury. It’s all he wants to do with the rest of his life.
By the time the sun has set, he figures it’s time to go back home. May would be waking up soon and she’d wonder where he is.
On his route home, he sees some shady happenings. Three men dressed in ski-masks are wandering around an old park. They look familiar. Their stature and build, and the way they hold themselves remind Peter of something, but he can’t quite place it. It’s not until he hears their voices that he’s accurately able to recall who they were. Natasha was right about a voice being familiar.
The same men from the restaurant stood amid the crowd. They should be in jail, but who knows, maybe they have the cops wrapped around their little fingers. The man in the middle, dressed in a tux with a lime green tie around his button-up shirt, appears to be their leader. His forehead is unnaturally long, like that of Frankenstein's monster. And he wasn't present when the attack at the restaurant happened. Peter would've known if he saw that face before.
He overhears one of the men refer to him as 'Tombstone.'
Peter resists the urge to gasp. He has a super-villain name! That must mean he’s big business. And if he is ‘big business’ then that means Peter has to get involved. He listens for a while to gather information. ‘Tombstone’ is apparently the ringleader for all the recent kidnappings, his whole reason for it being money. He’s not sure what the money is for- but then again, there might not be a reason at all. Everyone aches for money. It’s what makes the world spin.
Peter calls the police about the ‘suspicious’ activity (remembering the article from earlier), more for backup just in case things go south, before hyping himself up for a fight.
Peter swings down, interrupting their meeting. “You’d think with all the money that you’ve extorted from these kids; you’d have enough to buy yourself a better suit, man. Or at least to have that one tailored. You look like a toddler trying his dad’s uniform on.”
“Spider-Man! We meet at last!” Frankenstein’s monster’s lookalike grins. He looks behind his back, “Stand down, men. I can have a nice, civil, talk with our guest here.” He steps forward, attempting to shake Peter’s hand. “The name’s Lonnie.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, then, there’s no need to be rude, is there?”
“Where are the kids?” Peter demands.
“Kid,” Lonnie corrects, “The rest were let out because their parents paid. They might have some ‘battle scars’, but they’re alive. No need to panic.”
“Well- where’s the kid then? Is it that eight-year-old you stole from the park?” Peter asks.
“No, no. Her parents paid straight away. We’ve got one left of our second batch so far. His name’s Flash, or something ridiculous like that. Isn’t it weird what rich people call their kids these days? His parents refused to pay. Seem to care more about their cash than their kid. Isn’t that the type of evil you should be chasing, Spider-Man?”
Oh my god, they had Flash. Peter grabbed Tombstone by the tie, willing to throw him over the bridge if he didn’t tell him where Flash was. No matter that it’s his bully- he still needs to know he’s safe. It’s what he does. He’s holding him so tight, his hand shaking, that he surprises himself with his strength. It seems to surprise Tombstone too.
Guns are raised immediately at Peter’s chest, but he configures their boss in a way that makes it impossible to shoot Peter and miss ‘Lonnie’ too. He’s not letting Flash down. He’s getting him back now if it’s the last thing he does in this suit.
“You tell me where this kid is or I’m going to make sure you’re dead in the bottom of that river.”
“I’ve been told Spider-Man was a wimp. Where did this come from?”
“It’s always been here,” Peter says, the terror in his body presenting as anger. If he can fake it until he makes it, that’ll have to do.
“Fine, we’ll show you,” Tombstone laughs in Peter’s face. “I don’t know why you care so much about this teen, but he’s a pain in my ass anyway. Getting rid of him means we can just move onto the next group for the boss.”
He orders some men to stay behind (where, unbeknownst to them or Lonnie, they’ll be met by tens of police officers. Thwarting whatever plan they originally had), pulling Peter and two others into a car. Peter keeps his hands on Lonnie to make sure he doesn’t play any dirty tricks, watching their route so he knows how to get back as soon as he rescues Flash.
The whole thing went better than Peter thought it ever would. Although, it felt suspicious. In under ten minutes, he was at their base and had Flash out of the cuffs they put him in. Grabbing Flash and making sure he was okay- he thought he’d be able to walk out of their warehouse without a single problem. But as soon as they stepped outside, bullets started racing towards them. All Peter heard was Tombstone yelling to his men “Squash that bug. Make sure he’s not around to mess with us ever again.”
And again, people really need to learn the difference between bugs and arachnids. It’s a pet peeve of his.
Peter put Flash out of harm’s way every time, barely managing to escape with their lives. There’s extra pressure on Peter as he swings through the city. He assumes it’s just Flash, his whole body adjusting to the added weight. He swings through obscure alleyways and hidden shortcuts, making sure he was able to get out Tombstone’s men’s sight.
They stop right by Flash’s house. Peter’s out of breath as he puts Flash down. Flash is staring. He’s not sure if he’s thankful or not. He seems more interested in trying to pull the mask off as Peter almost cries in pain from something- he doesn’t know what. He barely manages to hit his hand away...
“Hey, Mr Spider-Man, how did you know where I live?” Flash says, as his head turns and faces the mansion that he lives in. Peter’s been here once for a party (worst mistake of his life).
“I contacted my good friend Peter. He’s told me about you.”
“You really know Peni- Peter Parker?” When Peter nods, Flash gasps. He’s clearly out of it, and Peter wonders if he’ll even remember what they said to each other. He gets him inside, his mother hugging him and his father welcoming him back insincerely. “Thank you,” he whispers as the doors shut in his face.
The pressure in his back doesn’t go away. He’s halfway through swinging when it turns into a very deep stinging sensation like a thousand wasps just attacked one part of his body. When he touches the back of his suit, he realises it doesn’t only look red because of the fabric but that he’s bleeding out. One of the bullets must’ve hit him, but the adrenaline in his body helped him to keep going. Right now, though, he feels like he’s dying.
He stops in an alleyway, being sick from shock. He gets out of his suit, throwing it into his backpack and covering it with an old jumper just in case someone came past. He’s in the clothes he wore to Cooper’s house, bleeding out on the ground when he realises that he’s close to death right now.
He grabs his phone and calls Ned. Ned doesn’t answer. Peter checks his phone and realises it’s two AM. Nobody is up. He’s going to die here alone. He’s going to leave May by herself. Ned won’t have his best friend anymore, and Cooper, although incredibly trivial in comparison to what’s happening, will have to present their project alone. Would they even remember him given a few years? Would he die as Spider-Man, or would the news talk about Peter Parker?
He scrolls in his contacts, barely managing to move his hand, and chooses Cooper’s number as a last resort. He doesn’t have the energy to try anyone else, and he doesn’t want to worry May.
“Hello?” Cooper says, surprising Peter by answering on the first ring.
Peter chokes, a bit of blood coming out of his mouth. “Please help me,” he cries.
As he manages to speak to Cooper for what he feels like is his last time ever, he can’t think of anything else to say. His hands start to shake, blood coming from everywhere. He lets his head hit the floor and his vision goes black.