Explosion
The last thing Peter thought he’d hear would be the screams of Tony before he was whisked away into ashes. But it was different this time. It wasn’t a flashback of the soul stone, and it wasn’t him dying again. This time, it was after Thanos, after Tony recovered. Everyone thought the world would take a break for a while. Apparently not, if this situation was anything to go by. There was a lot to unpack, and not a lot of time.
First, the explosion. All Peter could feel was the pain rip across his skin; A ripple of ‘ouch’ that he didn’t take seriously at first, not until it was throwing him across the room, further from Tony. As he flew through the air, arms pinwheeling, he felt something sharp hit his back. This threw him to the ground, and in an instant he couldn’t move.
Secondly? The blood. There was so much, and Peter couldn’t tell if it was his or not. As he lay there under the sharp rock, blood cascaded down onto his face as he screamed in pain. His legs were pinned above him, his heart lower than the rest. The diagonal way he was stuck started flowing the blood to his head, and the rush he felt took away some of the panic he felt inside. But not all of it.
Last but not least, the panic.
The panic was the last thing Peter would ever feel.
In an instant, he could see Adrian Toomes’ face in front of him, smiling as blood flowed from between his teeth.
“You fucked up. You fucked up. You fucked up. You fucked up you fucked up youfukedupyoufuckedupyoufuckedupyoufuckedup YOU FUCK UP.” Toomes yelled in his face.
“P-please stop, no, no…” Peter struggled under the weight of the concrete on top of him, his ribs popping in agony as he tried to get away from the Vulture.
“Help me, someone, please! Help!” He screamed, lungs beginning to fill with liquid. Peter didn’t know if it was his blood they were filling with or the blood from Adrian’s mouth, but it still added to the panic.
His breathing began to grow laboured.
His thoughts sped up.
His heart did the same thing.
“HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE, OH MY GOD, PLEASE!” Peter begged.
As he began to hyperventilate, he couldn’t hear Tony yelling for him. He couldn’t hear the Iron Man suit pulling the rocks off of his chest, saving his life. But the one thing he could feel was the warmth of Tony’s hand on his face, and the tapping of his fingers on Peter’s hand.
“-ne, two three. Out for four. Two, three, four. Good.” Tony whispered.
“T-T’ny?” Peter mumbled, the tears rolling down his face mixing with blood and dirt.
“Hey bud. It’s okay.” Tony smiled down at him, but the anxiety and raw emotion in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Peter.
“Don’ be mad, but there’ a guy. He got me. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no, you’re fine. You’ll be fine. It was just a little explosion.”
“Tell-” He stopped to cough. “Tell May I love her.”
“No. You’re not gonna do this to me. We have medics coming you’re okay.”
Peter let out a sob, feeling his broken ribs bend as his chest heaved. Everything became blurry.
“I’m sorry, Tony. I love you. I love you so much. Thank you.” Peter cried.
“Peter, stop!” Tony had tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t lose someone else.
“Bye, T’ny. Bye-bye…” Peter whispered as the darkness overtook him, Tony holding him close.
Tony saw the light in his son’s eyes disappear.
Held his blood on his hands.
And the grief? Well, it never really left in the first place.
He lost his son for a second time. How was he supposed to handle this?
The boy-
No.
His boy was gone.
Again.