When You Need Me

Peter’s POV

The door creaks open slowly, as if whoever was behind it was trying to make everyone inside more scared. Peter moves to sit in front of the other kids subconsciously, hoping and praying he won’t have to listen to them cry from pain and torture that no child should have to endure. Miles scoots beside him, as if he’s the co-captain. He puts on his bravest face, but even that’s not enough. Peter sees right through it. He’s sure the others will too, given time.

When the door opens it’s the boss. Peter remembers them calling him ‘Tombstone’. He totally lives up to the name (in his opinion). His head is completely bald, his jawline square and… unique. He wears a three-piece suit and a green tie, which he’s currently twirling around his finger as he gazes amongst the children. His lip is arched up in a smirk, a lit cigarette hanging from his other hand. His eyes are void. Peter can’t see much behind them.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares. He drops the cigarette after a minute and puts it out with his foot. He drops his tie and takes a few steps towards them all. He looks at Peter, puts his hand on his jaw and grins widely. He squeezes his cheek and chuckles. When he does, his henchmen do too.

“You’re the key to our success, Stark,” he says.

Peter doesn’t care in this moment to explain that, no, he wasn’t a Stark and the entire world has got the wrong idea, but he decides he’ll go along with it. If he doesn’t, he’d be thrown out and told to make his own way back or worst of all they’d take him around the back to make sure he can’t tell another soul about this place.

Peter is not scared. But his heart speeds up, nonetheless. He’s faced much worse before. He’s been hit by cars, stabbed, and shot. But, without the mask and anonymity as protection, he’s worried that he’s not going to be confident enough to ensure the safety of all of them plus himself.

He doesn’t reply. He stares and slaps Tombstone’s hand away.

“Oh, feisty,” Tombstone says. He tugs at his blazer, repositioning it as it looked askew along his shoulders. He goes back to twiddling his tie. Peter wonders if he thinks it make him look cool. It just makes him look like he can’t keep his hands still. “Just like your daddy, huh? Let’s hope you don’t have the same sass or is this going to be a long, hard, ride for you.”

Oh, you have no idea. Peter has the same, if not more, sass than Tony and he’s very much looking forward to proving that.

Peter knows the kids are all staring at him, wondering how Tony Stark’s kid was kidnapped. But some of them now have hope. If any of their parents could come running, it would have to be Iron Man. He’s saved so many people before, why couldn’t he save them?

And, yeah, Peter would love to see that red and gold armour come rushing through the ceiling. But he can’t just sit here and wait for that to happen. He needs a plan, and he needs to make it now before any of these kids get hurt/traumatised beyond return.

The room feels smaller than it already was with Tombstone and his henchmen standing around him. They lean against the walls in a circle, surrounding the group of kids on the floor. They stare, an attempt to be intimidating perhaps, but the only one that actually poses a threat is their boss. Peter feels something is off with Tombstone, more than he’s putting on. He’s not just here to get money from rich parents, he wants much more than that. He wants power and fame (whether that be good or bad), and he doesn’t care what it takes to get there.

“Come on,” he tells Peter, grabbing his arm and hoisting him up. Peter struggles a bit but ultimately lets him drag him along, walking alongside him towards the door. Before he goes, he looks back at Miles and smiles. He tries to make sure he knows it’ll be okay. But all that he gets back is a terrified stare. “Let’s go send your daddy a nice message.”

Tony’s POV

A few hours later…

It’s been too long since he’s seen Peter’s face. He can’t keep thinking about what is going on, and where. He sits with his team, everyone silent and staring at CCTV footage and maps on the many computers spread around the room. Cooper sits with his mom on a sofa, leant in her arms, as Happy also tries to console Ned who is on the opposite side. Tony would tell them to go home and try their best to rest, but they were there when it happened. If they need witness accounts for some information, then it’s them Tony has to go to.

Tony’s mind is so scrambled. Everyone thinks and swears it’ll be him who solves it, but how is he supposed to do that when he can’t even think straight? They don’t tell him that, but Tony knows they’re thinking it by the way they stare at him in the pockets of time when they feel hopeless, and their eyes leave the screen. Peter could be dead, right now, or dying, and they’re no where near finding him.

He searches police records on anything that might help. He notes down some other missing kid’s papers, pretending not to notice how they’ve been active for weeks. He doesn’t know if he could handle that much time away from the kid without knowing if he’s safe, but if he has to then he’ll push through it.

Just as he’s about to check a different lead, he gets a suspicious email. He doesn’t think about checking it until Friday flags it as a ‘lead’. He opens the email and gasps when it comes up. Peter’s strapped to some awful looking chair, looking ahead at the camera. Two men are stood behind him, holding him there as if the restraints weren’t enough (they don’t know that Peter could beat them all. But why wasn’t he? Why was he letting them keep him there?). He’s got a mark on his cheek and looks so vulnerable that Tony’s heart drops into his stomach.

His gasp grabs the attention of everyone else in the room. They stop what they’re doing, walking over to his screen. They gather around it, all trying to see what he’s looking at, but the computer is only so big. He hears the reactions of the team, but he can’t bear to tear his eyes away and look because Peter’s there and they’ve got him, and oh god, what are they doing?

Someone tries to pull him away as he presses play, but he shakes them off. He stares as they address him, tell him they’ve got his son, and they prod and poke at Peter. Peter is calm, even though Tony can see the twitch in his fingers and the crease of his brow. A bit of sweat pools from his face, but he doesn’t give them the satisfaction of scaring him. He makes sure his face is set, unmoving. He doesn’t say a word.

He annoys them.

He’s a proper Stark, after all.

Then they get a knife and Tony feels the bile rise up in his throat.

Steve’s holding his shoulders and pulling his chair away, trying so hard to move his head. “Come on, Tony. You don’t need to see this,” he says, desperately. Tony shakes his head, staring. They put the knife on his throat, and they push. They push in- Peter still doesn’t speak. They push harder and a bit of blood falls to the floor. “Tony,” Steve says. “Don’t watch it.”

They punch him. Peter’s lip gets busted up quickly, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s not until another kid is pulled onto the screen. He’s young, small, and Peter’s eyes go wide as they close the knife on him. Tony knows Peter is desperate to break out of those restraints and help, but he can’t show all his cards yet. They’d realise something was different about him, and it would be game over.

“Miles,” Peter cries. “Don’t touch him. I swear to- don’t you dare hurt him!”

“There he is,” the person behind the camera says, his voice thick and evil. “That’s how we get the Stark to speak. Trying to play the hero like his dad. It’s just so sweet.” They take the knife away from Miles. “If you don’t speak and ask your dad to give us his money then Miles is getting more than a small knife to his face.”

Peter closes his eyes tight. He clenches his fists, before looking up at the camera. “Dad,” he says, the word heavy on his tongue. “I think these guys would like a bit of cash. How does 5 dollars sound? It’s what they deserve.”

Stop it, Peter.

He wants to grab him and tell him to just cooperate for now but he’s too damn stubborn. Tony knows he probably has a plan, and that’s the plan he has to stick to. There’s no changing it mid-way. No giving up. And that mindset is going to get him hurt. Or worse, killed.

He’s punched in the face. “Try again.”

“How about… ten? Double or nothing, boys.”

Peter grits his teeth as blood comes out of his mouth.

“Remember what I said, kid,” the guy behind the camera speaks up again. “If you don’t squeal, then your little buddy gets it.”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Please… please, dad. Just give them whatever they ask for. Please come and help. I miss you,” he says. He can sense the sarcasm, but a bit of it seems all too real. “I’ll be okay,” he whispers.

Tony wonders if he said that for himself or for Tony’s sake. He’s crying now as they step closer to Miles. He cries only for his friend, and not for the bruises and cuts forming on his own body. They punch Miles once and Peter’s eyes go red. But he can’t do anything without ruining everything.

Tony has to watch as Peter sobs, tears barely cleaning the blood off him. He tries to look away from the other kid as well. Even though he doesn’t know who he is, he wouldn’t say it’s entertaining to watch two grown men beat up a child.

Tony knows now that whenever he gets to Peter, the men who have him are going to regret that they even spoke to him, never mind beating him and using him like this. There’s a fire in his heart as the scene continues and, somehow, worsens.

His eyes don’t move once now. He doesn’t even realise he’s crying too.  

“Two-hundred million, Stark. That’s all we want and then your little boy is all yours,” camera man says.

Camera man finally comes on screen. Tony recognises him as Lonnie Larson, a crime boss downtown. A street fighter, he usually comes in contact with Daredevil. The Avengers have never seen him as a ‘big’ threat to the world. Only to New York. Tony’s sure that Peter’s come into contact with him once too.

Regret overtakes him. If they noticed him, if they got him off the streets, then all these kids he’s hurt would be fine. If they helped Daredevil, then Peter would be in his room watching some sci-film as he stole all the popcorn from both Ned and Cooper. But now he’s in what looks to be a dingy basement, covered in blood and bruises. It hurts too much to think about.

Tony knows who he has to contact next.

“Two-hundred million,” Tombstone repeats. “We know you’ve got it, plus more. Surely letting go of it is worth keeping your son safe. We can all see how much you love him. If you give us another hundred, then you can buy one- get one free. You can take this kid with you too,” he gestures over to Miles who is holding his stomach and trying to get away from the man who’s holding him down with his foot. “Why not? I’m in a giving mood.”

Peter gets one of his hands free, punching him across the face. He rids Lonnie of his cocky smile. Immediately his loyal henchmen hoard Peter like a pack of dogs. They hit him, but Peter doesn’t look bothered. He breaks, finally ridding himself of all the restrains. He begins to fight back.

“Tony,” Steve says again. He’s louder this time. He picks him up, but Tony thrashes in his grip and pushes at his chest. Steve holds him tighter. “You don’t need to see this, okay? It’ll just make things worse. Please, just come over here and we’ll turn it off.”

He can’t see the screen. He needs to. He needs to see him, to make sure he’s still alive. “Let me go, Steve,” he says. Steve doesn’t. “Steve, let me go now- I swear to god- let me see him or- or I-,” he trails off, tears falling from his face. He collapses into Steve’s grip and stops trying to get out. He hides his face in his chest as Steve tries to comfort him. “Oh god,” he cries.

Someone closes the video as Tony cries, all of them in silence as they try to forget what they just saw. They don’t know Peter’s Spider-Man. Even if they did, he’s still just a kid. Even if he’s enhanced, whatever those guys did to him hurt.

Tony doesn’t realise that Cooper and Ned have been watching along with him the entire time. When he pulls away from Steve, he sees their little faces. Their eyes are wide with similar tears tracks down their faces. For a second, they look like Peter. Trying so hard to be brave in a world that really has it out for them.

Peter’s POV

Peter’s not sure if it was the fear or adrenaline that caused him to snap. But the next thing he knew after seeing them hurt Miles, he was up and throwing punches. He had to make it look like they had the upper hand, so he didn’t jump out of the way even when his senses were screaming at him.

He’s trying to get Miles to safety from the punches… but then he realises that the kid is holding up a lot better than he thought he would. He feels crazy even thinking it but… was Miles like him? Enhanced? Because he’s stepping out of the way and avoiding hits like he knows when they’re coming, and isn’t that exactly what Peter can do?

Miles even manages to hold up one of the men and throw them down in a sick, wrestling-style, flip. Peter takes a second to appreciate it. Wow. Either Miles’ dad put him in self-defence classes and weights since the age of two, or Peter’s less alone than he realised.

Even if Miles doesn’t even know himself, he’s different. Seeing him fight? Peter’s sure of it. He had a feeling when they were first sat in the van together. Is it why he feels so protective of him?

“That’s ENOUGH,” Tombstone bellows, before the blinking red light fades from the camera. His henchmen stop in a second, and Peter uses that opportunity to sneak in one more punch. It makes him happy. “Take them back to the room. We’ll see if Stark cares more about his son than his dad did for him.”

Peter goes easily now, walking alongside Miles as they’re thrown back into the room. The kids come pouring at them, making sure they’re okay. They must’ve heard all the noise. Peter wipes away the blood and says he’s fine, ensures them that it’s all superficial. Once again, Miles is quiet. He’s staring at his hands like he’s not sure where his power came from.

Peter remembers that feeling vividly.

Years ago…

He woke up confused. His hands were sticking to his duvet cover and his head was pounding. His alarm was blaring, louder than it usually was. He could hear Ben and May whispering in their room. No, wait. That wasn’t them. That was the couple on the bottom floor. How could he hear their (very weird) conversation about UFO’s and alien sightings all the way from his room on floor 38?

He shook his head, sitting up. The duvet came with him, not wanting to part ways. He shook it and pulled but it kept it’s spot on his hand. He tried again and again until it finally flew off him, and he went flying back onto the floor.

“You okay?” Ben called, after his collision with the floor resulted in a bang that must’ve been heard all over the apartment building.

“Yeah,” Peter lied (No! He wasn’t! His head hurt and he was confused, and why on earth were his hands so sticky? If this was the beginning of puberty than they really understated how weird it was). “I’m fine, just fell out of bed.”

He heard Ben and May laugh. A nice, sweet, sound that made Peter relax even if he was going through the weirdest stage of his life right now. He didn’t care, because he loved hearing them laugh. He loved them. “Be careful, honey,” May said. She was so carefree back then.

He got up and saw a bit of fabric was still left behind on his hand. His duvet now had a big hole in the middle of it. How he’d explain that to May and Ben, he didn’t know. But that was a problem for future Peter. At that point, present Peter had more… pressing problems.

He went into the bathroom and tried to scrub off the duvet after getting changed and packing his bag for school. Eventually, after feeling like he had just used sandpaper on his hand, it came off. Peter thought he was in the clear. Then…. The door came off in his hand.

“…What the fuck,” he whispered to himself. He leant it against the frame and grabbed his bag, running out of the door and to school before he could be a witness. He didn’t even say bye.

But if hearing the conversation about aliens was bad, outside was way worse.

He heard everything. It was awful. The beeps of cars, arguments of people from inside buildings. Hell, he heard the clicking off a gas oven. The squeaking of rats. His mind was overcome with noise and, oh god, he wanted it to stop.

He got to school early, finding that he could run a lot faster than he used to. He could breathe fine too. He didn’t even bother looking for his inhaler, it really didn’t feel like he even needed it. When he got to school, he rushed into the bathroom and stared at himself in a mirror. He looked properly, having not bothered when he was at home (he was too busy scrubbing duvet off himself).

Then he realised he had forgot to put his glasses on… but he could see fine? Puberty shouldn’t be able to cure eyesight or asthma, right?! If it could, he was definitely failing health class. He was so, so, confused. He didn’t know what was happening to him.

After throwing up during recess from the headache, he was sent home to May who made sure he ate. She put a nice, cool, handtowel over his head to help with his fever and left him to do some work in her bedroom.

Peter thought back to how this even happened. That’s when he remembered the bite… but surely not? A spider couldn’t do this to him. He was sure of it. He researched all night, finding only little clues. He figured out more stuff, new things he could do that he couldn’t do before. Carrying very heavy things (for some reason he found it entertaining to carry his wardrobe around for a few minutes. It made him feel like the world’s strongest man… or boy), climbing on walls and sticking to everything. Hearing everything, even feeling when Ben was coming inside. Not knowing or hearing. He felt it.

It went on from there, and his life had changed forever.

He wondered if Miles was going through the same thing.

The kids eventually got themselves to sleep. Peter watched over them, made sure the ‘boss’ and his men didn’t decide to attack them during the night. He’s gone days without sleeping before, and this was only the second. He didn’t care if his eyes were so heavy that they were begging to be closed. He had to make sure he was helping. If not, then why was he Spider-Man?

Peter walks over to Miles, who’s sat in the corner of the room looking up at the ceiling. He’s the only other person awake.

“Hey,” Peter says. “How are you holding up?”

Miles’ eyes flick over to the door, terrified that someone might walk in. He shrugs when he looks back to Peter. He sighs, cuddling into himself. He looks cold, and if he’s anything like Peter he knows from first hand that the cold is tough. He’s just built a tolerance to it.

Peter takes his jacket off and tugs it over his shoulders.

“I- I can’t take this, you’ll freeze,” Miles says, beginning to shrug it off. He looks confused when Peter stops him.

“I run warm,” Peter says, taking a seat beside Miles. He can’t see much of him, the lights off. He’s not sure if it’s even daytime, but he likes to think it’s not. He can’t see outside, though, so it’s only a guess. “You were really brave today, man. You kicked ass too.”

“My dad says I’m not allowed to say that word,” Miles says. “Though, I did. Didn’t I?

Peter chuckles. “Yeah. Yeah, you did,” he says. He looks down at Miles’ hands, seeing a bit of jacket stuck to them. He knows there’s been better clues, but this is the one that guarantees their likeness in his eyes. It’s exactly like that stupid duvet- the same one he holds onto because it used to be Ben’s. Even if has the hand shaped hole in it, he can use it when he misses him. “You’re very strong,” he says, wondering how he can get this conversation going. “…Is that a new thing?”

Miles looks at him, “…How did you know that?” he asks. His voice is so small and looking at him makes Peter feel weird. Was he really this young when he started? A bit of him doesn’t want to tell him, doesn’t want to help because then he’ll never be pulled into this world. But he remembers how confused he was. If he had someone to guide him through it… it would’ve been so much easier.

“I think we’re quite alike, Miles,” he says. He takes a deep breath, looking around for any bugs or microphones. He lowers his voice, just in case. “Have you ever heard of Spider-Man?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Well, that’s me,” he whispers.

Miles’ jaw drops. He looks at Peter like he’s grown a third head, or if he’s just said something in a foreign language. His eyes are so wide they might pop out and fall into Peter’s hand. He’s as silent as ever, but this time from shock rather than fear. He’s shaking his head like he doesn’t believe Peter, and even in the circumstances that makes Peter chuckle underneath his breath.

“And maybe it could be you too,” Peter says, taking Miles’ hand. He turns it over so he’s looking at his palm. The jacket is still there. “This happened to me when I first got my powers. Ripped quite a nice duvet. My uncle was mad. Understanding, but mad. Had to buy me a fresh one. I still like to use it though, guess I’m sentimental,” he shrugs, not telling Miles about his tragic backstory. It’s not the time, nor the place. “You can hear everything, can’t you? Feel things before they happen?”

Miles nods. “Y-Yeah, I can.”

Peter hums. He knew it. He wasn’t the only person out there like him, and that made him think… was there more? Or was it just them? He hasn’t got time to figure that out right now. He turns to Miles who is shell-shocked, so scared of his own body that he’s let go of himself and is sitting there as stiff as a brick.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says. Then he takes his hand and squeezes it, lets him know he’s there. “…I know you didn’t even know you had this potential this morning, but I really need your help to get us all out of here, okay? We’re going to have to work together.”

Miles, barely there, nods.

Peter hopes he’ll be okay to actually go through with it.

Tony’s POV

They hit a dead end a few hours in. Steve told him he should go and get some rest, and he agreed but only so he could continue searching away from their prying eyes. He knows they have his interest in heart, but it’s hard to focus when someone’s asking you if you’re okay ever other second.

Laying in bed, staring at the holograms around his room, he wonders if he’s in over his head. He wants to help Peter, he needs to, but is he enough? He ponders watching the video again, but why would he want to put that on himself? He shrugs off the idea, trying to figure out something else productive to focus on.

Then the idea of Daredevil comes back to his mind.

Daredevil is the better half of the many ‘street heroes.’ For example, Tony doesn’t like Deadpool, the man too erratic and crazy for him to handle. Deadpool was an out-of-control bike, on fire, heading towards a group of people. Basically, he was too much. He wouldn’t help, all he’d probably do is go in guns blazing and accidently shoot the kids. Although, that might be too harsh. The ‘hero’ has helped them out before.

Whereas Daredevil was calm. He knew what side of the law he was on, but he also knew when to stop. He didn’t go around beheading the criminals, he killed their chance of a good life instead. He beat them just to the point where their heart would still beat, then left them for the law to deal with. In the previous analogy, he’d be a nice bike ride. Albeit one on top of a cliff going down and not knowing when to stop but knowing that when you need to… you can.

The question was, would he help?

Tony knew the Avengers were a lot. Taking what they wanted, when they needed it, and most of the time not giving it back. Hope was fleeting, but it was there. In Tony’s mind, hope was never what he reached for. Hope was the last item on the shelf, the thing he’d grab when it was the only thing there. He never thought he’d need to rely on it… but here he was. Hoping that daredevil would be kind enough to get his son- to get Peter back home.

That night, he crept out of his room like a teenager sneaking out to a party. He grabbed the first keys he saw, jumping into to his car and listening to its roar before driving out and wondering if he’d bump into daredevil. He knew his best chance was at night, considering most people don’t try and mug others in broad daylight, and that’s exactly the scene Daredevil would flock to like a little bird.

The bad side of his conscious edged him to mug someone to grab Daredevil’s attention, but if that hit the news then he’d look like the biggest piece of shit. A billionaire mugging a civilian, it didn’t make sense. Plus, it was wrong, and it wasn’t only his reputation he was worried of. Peter would be annoyed with him, and that’s the biggest drive to say no to the urge.

He sits on the side of a building in the Iron Man suit, knowing this is the type of thing Peter would do on what he calls ‘slow nights’ like Spider-Man is a part-time retail job. He thinks of Peter, how he’d feel if he sat beside him. He’d call it an adventure, but that’s just how he faced life. For Peter, his life was a never-ending roller coaster of severe downs but high ups. He couldn’t imagine living like it, not knowing when the next drop would come.

He sees a flash of red and his mind short circuits for a second. The red is so much like Peter’s suit that he thinks he got free. But, no, it’s not. It’s Daredevil. Tony feels like he’s a rare bird watcher finding the rarest of all. He feels giddy, flying after him to ask him for help.

Daredevil turns around and faces him before he even sets down. His mask covers everything except for a little slit where his mouth is. Honest to God, it’s a bit creepy and Tony has to bite down on his tongue before he makes a quip that makes Daredevil say no before he’s even said anything else.

“What brings Tony Stark down here?”

“My son’s missing,” he says, too tired and worn to explain the whole story. He could do that later. He watches Daredevil’s body language change. At first, he was ready to fight, his body closed off and tight that Tony was worried it might pop. Now he’s relaxed yet holding himself with the same worry. “By Tombstone. I thought you might know some stuff that might help me get him back.”

“You sound like you really love him,” Daredevil says. He nods once. “Sure, count me in.”