“How you doing, Pete?”
The mission had been going well. Had. Tony, Nat, Clint, Peter, and Wanda had been sent on it to stop a crazed, overdramatic magician that had the power to control minds via a strange black fog. They were going to take Rhodey, but the man decided that it was probably fake and they didn’t need his help.
It was so not fake. Tony knew this when he and the kid had been separated from the others and the black fog had drifted around the corner, quickly filling the street and making it hard to see anything but dark, ominous smoke. He knew that there was a filter designed specifically to keep this kind of stuff out in both Peter’s and his own suit, so he wasn’t too worried.
Until they heard a child’s scream in the building beside them. Of course, Peter’s head snapped in the direction of the apartment building, his selflessness leading him to climb in through a window to save the kid. Of course, Peter would put his own mask on the crying, hysterical 4-year-old that he found hidden underneath a desk as the building filled with fog.
Tony yelled the kid’s name when he searched the building, having to rely on F.R.I.D.A.Y to scan for heat signatures since he couldn’t make anything out through the smoke. Eventually, after several minutes of searching, he finally found the two of them. The 4-year-old was shaking Peter’s shoulder, the latter lying motionless on the ground with his eyes closed and mouth open slightly, face lax. Tony was in an absolute panic. He barely registered his own voice when he shouted into the coms., not sure what the fog would do to the boy. He gently scooped them both up and flew out of the building, careful to keep Peter’s face hidden against his chest to hide it from the vulturous public eye, who didn’t care if their life was in danger as long as they could get even a few more dollars to their name. He dropped the 4-year-old off with the police (Of course, not before he slipped the mask back on Peter), who were keeping the evacuated citizens at bay and away from the fog. Then, his chest tight and his breaths coming fast and panicked, he flew to the nearest alleyway where he was sure no reporters or citizens would be able to see them and took off the kid’s mask in order to see the kid’s face and get a reading on his condition.
Which led up to this moment; Peter was on his hands and knees, a black liquid dripping from his lip and onto the concrete with a steady drip, drip. Tony was sitting beside him, rubbing circles on his back when the kid heaved up the fluid, his face contorted in what Tony assumed was pain.
“I’m-ah- I-I’m okay, Mr. Stark. I think-”-a sharp inhale-” I’ll be fine”
“Like hell you are” Tony replied with a huff, reaching to his ear once again for what must have been the 20th time in the last minute.
“Where the fuck are you guys? The kid needs help! He breathed in that fog and now he’s-puking out black stuff! Get your asses over here now” He hissed to his teammates, face softening in worry when the kid heaved again, more of the liquid splashing into the puddle growing below him. He heard a sigh on the other end.
“We know, Tony! We’re working on it! I can’t see where the hell I’m going and Wanda and Nat went to go find the person who’s causing all this. I’m coming as fast as I can, just hold on a little longer!” Clint growled into the comm., making Tony wince. Of course. They had their own problems to fix, and Peter just so happened to be his.
“The problem is, I’m not sure if we can” Tony mumbled, rubbing the kid’s back soothingly as the kid let out a harsh cough. Then Peter groaned and used one hand to hold his head, his whole body shivering. Tony was about to say something along the lines of ‘you alright?’, but he was cut short by a kick to the side of the head. He grunted as he hit the pavement, using his arms to push himself up as he looked into the young eyes of his attacker. They were Peter’s Bambi brown eyes.
“Kid? What the hell was that for-” He was once again cut off as the kid kicked him again so he was flat on his back. He leaped up and wasted to time calling his suit to him, eyes wide as he was encased in metal within seconds. He didn’t want to hurt the kid-god, no. But he did enough training with Peter in the tower to know that the kid could easily kill him without breaking a sweat.
The next time, Peter threw a punch instead, his fist missing Tony by an inch as the billionaire scrambled to get out of the way. He threw the suit’s leg out, tripping the kid so he was on his back instead. Or, rather, he would have, had Peter not gotten an alert from his self-named ‘Spidey sense’ and dodged, instead throwing himself off the wall to punch the Iron Man helmet square in the jaw. It didn’t take the genius long to figure out the kid was being mind-controlled. Tony groaned and decided that knocking the boy out, as horrible as that was, was his best option.
“Fri?” He spoke, watching his AI light up his monitor as he dodged a web the kid shot in his direction, presumably hoping to stick his mentor against the wall. “Analyze fight patterns”
“Yes, sir” F.R.I.D.A.Y replied obediently, a percentage appearing in the bottom right of his vision, showing him how far in the process the AI was.
“Sorry kid, this is for your own good” He grit out, firing a repulsor at the kid’s foot and hearing the screech that told him he hit his mark. Without another thought, he took advantage of the kid’s distracted state to plant a particularly hard punch against the side of his face. Peter jerked away harshly, his back colliding with the wall and sending a loud thud echoing through the alley.
In seconds, the kid had leaped at him and wrapped his hands around the suit’s neck, squeezing so hard the metal started to dent beneath his fingertips. Tony let out a small choking sound, stumbling backward and reaching for the assailant, trying to push the kid away with desperate fumbles. He knew how strong this boy was.
“Pete! Snap out of it, kid! This isn’t you! It’s that fucking magician! Fight it, please!” Tony tripped, tumbling onto the ground with the kid on top of him, fingers still pressing against his windpipe threateningly. Tony spluttered for air, hands grabbing at Peter’s, trying to release the kid’s strong hold. After a few moments, his vision was spotted with black specks and he was sure his lips were blue as the kid-no, whoever this was, stared down at him with cold, unfeeling eyes. Those brown Bambi eyes. Tony knew there was a way to get the kid off him immediately, but he didn’t want to hurt him. He couldn’t. The very thought was unimaginable.
“Boss, you are running out of oxygen fast! You need immediate medical attention! Activating ‘Save Mr. Stark From His Own Bad Choices’ protocol. I’m sorry, boss.”
Save Mr. Stark from his own bad choices protocol? What? That sounded like something Peter would put into his suit. He vaguely felt the arm of his suit materialize into a blade. Wait, no! What’s going on? The suit moved his limp arm underneath Peter’s torso, positioned perfectly to-
“No!” Tony’s weak, wheezing scream was immediately cut out by Peter’s own guttural, bloodcurdling screech. The billionaire had pressed his eyes closed tightly at the same moment. Something wet splashed against his helmet and he wheezed beautiful, precious air at last. He gulped shakily, trying to ignore the wheezing that didn’t belong to him. Trying to ignore the short, unsteady breaths that came from the boy-the child-that was on top of him still, gripping the blade that tore through his stomach and protruded out of his back.
Tony opened his eyes. He wished he hadn’t. Peter’s eyes (those brown Bambi eyes) were wide as he looked at himself; Terrified. Tony gaped at the mess that was the kid’s torso. The blade went straight through-He fucking impaled the kid. Peter’s hands were now wrapped around the offending blade rather than his mentor’s throat, his palms and fingers coated in his own blood. Tony felt sick- there was just so much blood. His eyes met the kid’s and Tony saw it-a flash of recognition.
“Tony, we did it! We got the damn magician!” Nat’s voice over the comms.
“M-mr. S-st’rk?” Peter’s voice was small, weak. Barely audible over the sound of Tony’s heart pounding in his ears. The blade retracted back into his armor, leaving the kid limp as Tony turned over, laying him gently on the ground with a hand under his head.
“F-Fri…What did you do? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!” He screamed at his AI, his throat burning from the lack of oxygen. He didn’t miss Peter’s flinch at his loud words-the sound probably messing with the poor kid’s senses.
“I’m sorry, boss. Mr. Parker programmed a new protocol into your suit that was to force you to defend yourself if you refused. He instructed me to always save your life, even if it cost him his own.”
“I-I…Shit, Pete…Goddamnit!” He struck the ground with his fist, fury boiling in his chest. How dare Peter reprogram his suit to make him do something like this? He was furious. At the mind controller for doing this in the first place, for Clint, Wanda, and Nat for not being here, at F.R.I.D.A.Y for creating that damn protocol, at Peter for being so fucking self-sacrificial. He quickly stepped out of the suit to have real contact with the kid.
“Mssr St’rk” Peter mumbled again, reaching for his mentor’s hand. Tony grabbed the smaller, younger hand with his own, using his other arm to hold Peter close to his chest, not caring about the blood-the impossibly large amount of blood-that now stained his expensive outfit. He laid his head on top of Peter’s curls, breathing in his kid’s scent one last time. He could tell the kid was crying because of the way his shoulders would hitch and a sob would wrack his body. He also heard the weak coughs that left dark red stains on his suit, though he preferred to ignore those.
“Shh it’s okay kid, it’s okay” Tony whispered comfortingly, tears pricking in his own eyes. He fumbled for his earpiece, blinking rapidly to clear his eyesight.
“Barton, Romanov, Maximoff I-I need your help. P-please the kid–he…It’s not good. Please, he needs help-” He spoke desperately, feeling the kid lean into him more, relaxing into his chest.
After several seconds of silence despite the rapid questions in the comm., Peter’s weak voice spoke again.
“Mssr st’rk..I-I’m sc’rd”-A whimper-” hurts-”
“Shh, I know, kid, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” Tony buried his face deeper into the kid’s hair, quiet sobs tearing their way out of his throat as he felt Peter relax even more, his body lax as he pressed closer to Tony’s chest. He clutched the kid close until he didn’t feel anymore short, uneven breaths against his chest and the kid’s eyes (those damned brown Bambi eyes) fluttered closed.
Then the heavy footsteps of his teammates echoed through the alley.