Chapter 1
Peter hadn’t planned on going out that night. He had been studying when his phone had gone off. It was a message from MJ, informing Peter of a party that night and signing off with a “see you there, loser”. Rather than rolling his eyes and making up an excuse, he decided it might be nice to go see his friends tonight. It was a Friday, and it was just a party. He could make an appearance and leave after a few hours, no big deal.
So Peter had gone to tell May, who had offered to drive him. He’d agreed and been quick to get dressed into something a little nicer than his sweatpants.
And that’s where they were now, in the car at ten o’clock at night, sitting at a red light in the middle of Queens.
Peter was humming along to a song on the radio, some catchy pop title. He grinned when May started to sing, she reached forward to turn the volume knob up. Peter sang too, laughing as May danced in her seat. She was tapping the steering wheel to the beat, her red, manicured nails bouncing in time. The two of them were giggling as May pressed on the accelerator, carrying them forward into the intersection as the light turned green.
Peter was laughing, May was totally off key. She turned to look at Peter, only for a second, her eyes shone. She was happy, and then the hair on Peters arms stood on end.
In an instant, there was the sound of screeching tires. Peter cried out as something hit their car, sending them spinning across the road. Peter looked up in just enough time to watch an oncoming semi truck collide with their small car. There was a loud crash, and Peter heard May screaming. Then everything seemed to go blurry, and Peter could no longer grab hold of what was happening. There was an airbag in his face, and he felt pain shoot up his left arm. He couldn’t quite feel his legs. The commotion stopped and all Peter could hear was people shouting and horns blaring. His vision was starting to edge out, but he turned his head to see if May was alright.
His aunt was draped over the airbag, there was a lot of blood. Her window was wrecked and she didn’t seem to be moving.
“May.” Peter called weakly, his eyes wouldn’t stay open.
Peters ears seemed to tune everything out, and he noticed that catchy pop song still blaring on the radio. He wanted it to stop. He couldn’t find it in himself to open his eyes, but he tried to speak.
“May... ‘s gonna be okay.” And then he lost consciousness.
+
Peter woke up to a handful of paramedics kneeling over him. He was still outside, the sky was dark and he could see police lights somewhere in his peripheral vision. Somebody loudly announced that he was awake, and Peter sat up slowly.
“Careful, you’ve got a bad concussion.” One of the EMTS warned.
There was a light snowfall. Small, cold flakes floated down around Peter, it felt almost dreamlike.
“Where’s May?” He asked, his voice was hoarse like he’d been screaming. He didn’t remember screaming.
The EMT who spoke a moment before was knelt in front of him, her face kind.
“Hun, I need you to relax.”
Peter ignored her, looking past her to where a crowd of uniformed officers were standing around a stretcher. Alarm bells went off in Peters head, and he rushed to stand up.
The paramedic in front of him stood too, grabbing onto his arm. He stepped around her, yanking his arm away and disregarding her words of protest. Peter approached the officers, dodging past them to the side of the stretcher. There was a sheet pulled overtop, a body concealed beneath.
“Kid, you need to get back.”
Peters head was fuzzy. “Who’s under there? Where’s my aunt? Please, let me see.”
The officer raised his voice slightly, making Peter flinch.
“Stand back.” The policeman stuck his hand on Peters chest, stopping him from getting any closer.
Two of the paramedics began to wheel the stretcher away, and Peter watched as a lifeless hand slid from the side of the sheet. He recognized the red manicured nails and the charm bracelet that accompanied it.
Peter felt the world go down around him, or rather, his knees hit the pavement. He felt hands on his shoulders and he recognized people speaking in his face, but he didn’t hear them. He didn’t hear any of it. There was no pain in his body that could outlive the pain he felt in his heart. At some point he had gone into hysterics. He heard somebody crying, and as he started to tune in to his surroundings, he realized the crying was coming from him.
He felt like he couldn’t breath, there were three people speaking to him at once.
“Son, is there somebody we can call?”
Peter was shaking and he sat back on his heels. He weakly pushed at the hands on his shoulders, hoping to be left alone, but they persisted.
He wiped at his eyes, fighting with them to stop releasing tears. He wasn’t a child. Except his vision stayed blurry, and he kept gasping for air like he was drowning.
Whoever spoke to him before, spoke again.
“Who can we call for you?”
Peter had no family left, nobody to reach out to, so he said the first person who came to mind.
“Call Tony Stark.” His voice was weak, muddled by tears and it cracked when he spoke.
The next few moments were numbing. There was murmuring between the people around him. They spoke in hushed voices, saying how the kid was delirious and they had no reason to call Tony Stark.
Peter stopped his crying, “I-I’m his intern. Please.” And then he tuned it all out once again.
He was lifted off the pavement, dragged to an ambulance. He was taken to the nearest hospital, changed into a hospital gown, and got all kinds of machines hooked up to him. Peter knew he didn’t need it, he would heal in a few days. May however, would not. All kinds of officers and doctors checked in on Peter, they gathered his personal information, and he was then given the official news.
“We’re sorry Peter, but your aunt passed.”
The words meant nothing to him. He was asked again and again who they could call, and he told them to call Tony Stark countless times. Except they wouldn’t, because they thought he was just some kid. Until finally, a nurse brought him his cell phone.
When he looked at it he was shocked to see it was nearly two in the morning. Had he been in the hospital that long?
Peter stared at his phone in his hands, they were still shaking. He didn’t want to call Tony, he wanted somebody else to do it for him. He didn’t want to tell Mr. Stark what had happened, how could he?
His nurse returned, “Peter, honey, please call somebody. You can’t stay here forever.”
No, he couldn’t, he couldn’t afford to stay at the hospital. He was a teenager with no legal guardian, there were hospital bills stacking up that he couldn’t handle.
He looked up at her, she had sympathy written all over her face.
“I-I can’t. I can’t put that burden on Mr. Stark an-and it’s two in the morning.” His voice cracked, and he felt the urge to cry again swallow him, but he fought it.
She sighed, “I know it’s hard, but you need somebody. If Mr....Stark, cares about you, he won’t mind a call this late.” She paused momentarily, a tinge of disbelief showing through as she spoke Tony’s name. Peter hated her for it, he hated all of them for it. He wasn’t a liar, he’d never be that.
Peter stared at the small black letters on his phone, his thumb hovering over Tony’s contact. He sucked in a deep breath and pressed it, lifting the phone to his ear.
It rang a few times until it was answered, shuffling noises came through to Peters ear, and a tired voice. “Hey kid, whats up?” He answered, sounding like he was at his end of a very long day. Peter remembered that Tony’s day had been filled with press meetings, and he felt guilt shadow him.
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again, yet his voice wouldn’t come.
“Peter? You alright?”
Peter couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell Tony what happened, there was no way.
“Pete, talk to me.”
Peter’s voice finally kicked in, it was barely above a whisper. “Mr. Stark? Can you come get me?”
Tony’s voice grew a little bit stronger. “Yeah, kid, what’s going on?”
Peter felt his bottom lip tremble, “Please just come get me.” His voice broke.
He heard Tony get up, concern bleeding through the phone. “Where are you?”
“NewYork-Presbyterian Queens Hospital.”
If Peter could see Tony, he would see his face morph into a mask of worry.
“I’ll be there soon, Peter.”
His phone beeped to signal that the call had ended, and Peter sat quietly in his hospital bed. It felt like the world was dragging on around him.
It was a few hours before Tony arrived at the hospital, as he was coming from the compound upstate. Peter heard him before he saw him. His voice leaked in from the hallway.
“Are you Peter Parker’s nurse?” Tony was asking, his voice loud compared to the sounds of the hospital.
Peter recognized his nurses voice in response, she sounded shocked. Momentarily, Peter felt pride shoot through him. It showed her that he really had meant Tony Stark.
Tony spoke again, “Can you tell me what happened?”
The murmurs that came in response were sure to be news of the crash, Peters injury and Mays passing. Peter never wanted to think about those things again. He swung his legs over the side of his bed so that he could stand up once Tony came in. The footsteps that came before Tony’s entrance were slow, Peter could’ve sworn they were hesitant.
But then Tony was in the room, his tinted sunglasses held in one hand, his eyes sad.
“Peter I-“
Peter burst into tears before he could finish his sentence, he felt like his heart was physically aching.
“Oh Peter.” Tony said, and Peter stood up, crossing the room in three strides and clinging onto Tony.
Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, letting the kid cry into his chest.
“Mr. Stark.” Peter spat out weakly, his whole body shook as he was taken over by quiet sobs. His face was hot and his tears wet Tony’s suit jacket. Tony rubbed his hand across Peters back, trying to sooth him.
Eventually, Peter quieted down. His sobs turned into quick, shallow breaths and his tears subdued.
Tony convinced him to get dressed, he told him Happy was waiting out front to take them home. Peter felt bitter at the word home, he knew Tony meant the compound upstate, he wasn’t going to take Peter to his home. The Avengers Compound wasn’t his home, he wanted to go home to May burning something on the stove. He wanted to watch movies with her, he wanted to wake up to her blow-drying her hair upside down in the bathroom. But that wasn’t an option anymore, and Peter felt it weighing him down like a ton of bricks.
Once he was dressed, Peter’s hands didn’t seem to work properly as he tried to zip up his hoodie. Every time he tried to fit the zipper together he would miss. He figured that his hands would never stop trembling. He got frustrated and the urge to cry, or maybe yell, came to him again, so he ripped his sweater off his arms and threw it onto the ground like a child.
Tony watched him with a sad expression, he leaned forward and grabbed Peters hoodie off the floor. He walked over so he was behind Peter, and he pulled the sweater over Peters left arm first. Peters arm was bandaged at the shoulder, there had been a gash from broken glass and Peter knew he would have an awful scar to remember it by. Tony stayed quiet as silent tears tracked their way down Peters cheeks again, and moved onto his right arm. Once Tony had gotten the sweater pulled over Peters shoulders he zipped it up right to the top, and put his hand on Peters shoulder.
“Let’s get to the car, kid.”
Peter nodded numbly, his legs brought him through the halls of the hospital to the front doors with Tony. Tony placed a gentle hand between Peters shoulder blades, guiding him to where Happy sat parked out front, his face solemn. Peter figured Tony had already let him know one way or another what had happened.
Tony opened the door for Peter, and Peter slid into the backseat. As Tony fastened his seatbelt it dawned on him that other than the ambulance, the last time Peter had been in a car his aunt was killed.
Tony shut the door and made his way around the car. He took his seat beside Peter, and Happy started the car. The radio came on, that same pop song that was playing when May died.
Peter felt something like fear, but worse, rise up in his chest as he looked out the window as they started to move.
He turned to look at Tony. “Mr. Stark.” He said, unsure of what to do. He could feel panic rising up as if it were bile in his throat.
Tony looked at Peter, taking in his stricken features.
“Peter? You okay?”
“I don’t-I can’t-We need to stop.”
Tony drew his eyebrows together, “Pete, hey, it’s alright.”
Peter felt like his throat was closing. “No, Mr. Stark, I need to get out. Now.”
Tony could spot the familiar signs of a panic attack in seconds, and Peter was breaking.
“Happy, stop the car.” Tony said loudly, and they pulled over, barely having made it out of the parking lot. Peters head was spinning, his chest heaved and he gasped for air, trying to catch his breath. He was trying to undo the seatbelt, but his fingers wouldn’t work again. Tony reached over and pressed the button, releasing Peter from the seatbelts hold.
Peter pushed the door open, he tumbled out of the car, unable to stand. Tony was out and around to Peters side of the car in seconds.
This was the second time that night that Peter had an adult kneeling in front of him on the pavement. This time, though, Peter noticed that his knees hit a soft layer of snow.
Peter was still holding the door handle as he searched for some type of rhythm in his breath.
Tony was speaking quietly, a string of comforting words and phrases, trying to calm Peter once again.
The world in front of Peter kept spinning, almost like it was going in and out of focus, until finally Peter found a pattern in his breathing again. It took a few minutes, but Peter finally gained control of his senses. He looked up at Tony’s worried face.
“Mr. Stark, I don’t want to go back in that car.”
Tony nodded, “It’s alright. We’ll put the partition up, and you can lay down so it won’t even seem like we’re driving. Is that okay?”
Peter so badly wanted to say no, but there was no other way for them to get to the compound, so he nodded weakly.
They got back in the car, Tony did as he promised, and Peter lay with his head in Tony’s lap. Tony ran his fingers through Peters hair, soothing the boy. Peter briefly thought that on any normal day, it would be weird to him that he was cuddling with Tony Stark, but he didn’t have it in himself to care. Peter could see that the sky was brightening, he hadn’t checked the time in hours, but he determined it was probably relatively close to six in the morning by then.
Peter lay quietly for the first hour of the trip, staring at the back of the seats in front of him. He couldn’t feel much, mentally or physically. The hurt was there, it was like a beacon in his head, but it had turned into background noise. Tony let him lay quietly, until, finally, he spoke.
“You want to talk about what happened?”
Peter turned to look up at Tony, “Not really.” He mumbled. He fiddled with his hands, they had finally stopped shaking.
Tony’s hand stilled in Peters hair, “You don’t have to tell me what happened. Just, talk to me kid. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”
As soon as Peter thought about the moment the crash had occurred, his chest felt tight again.
“No,” Peter muttered, he could feel tears pricking at his eyes again. He wanted to stop crying, he was acting like a child.
Tony sighed, “I at least hope you know none of this is your fault.”
Peter felt a tear slip out, it slid down the side of his face, settling on Tony’s thigh. Tony looked down at him, his eyes growing sympathetic once again.
“But it was my fault.” Peter cried, turning and pressing his face into Tony’s leg. Tony swept his thumb across Peters cheek, comforting.
“Pete, you can’t do that to yourself.”
Peter let another round of tears take him, he felt helpless.
“If I hadn’t- I wasn’t even planning to go out last night.” He said, his voice weak.
Tony frowned. He reached over to Peters chin, attempting to turn his head toward him, but Peter pushed him away. His shoulders shook gently, and Peter reached behind him to pull his hood over his head. He felt like hiding. Tony placed his hand on Peters shoulder, once again rubbing his thumb to help calm the kid.
Peter spoke up again, his voice sad. “May wasn’t suppose to drive me...but she offered to. It’s not my fault, but I feel like it is. It‘s awful, Mr. Stark.”
Tony hummed his understanding, “It’s not your fault Pete, I promise.”
Peter nodded, but he continued to cry quietly. His tears dropped across his nose and down onto Tony’s pants. Tony leaned forward, he removed his suit jacket and placed it over Peter like a blanket. Peter curled his knees up into it, shrinking in on himself. Tony didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, but he reached forward and nudged Peters hand. Peter grabbed onto his fingers, the warmth of Tony’s grip gave him some comfort.
Tony let Peter cry again, and after a while, he stopped. His breathing deepened and Tony realized Peter had cried himself to sleep. Tony looked at the back of Peters hooded head, he wanted to help the kid, make sure he knew he would be okay.
Peter slept through the remainder of the trip, only waking when Tony gently shook his shoulders.
Peter blinked up at him, his eyes bleary.
“We’re here.” Tony offered, and Peter sat up, momentarily at peace. The sun was shining down around them, and Peter stepped out of the car and back into a world where his aunt no longer lived. He felt the world fall back down around him and onto his shoulders. Tony followed him out of the car.
“We’ve got living quarters for you already set up, the team will be happy to have you.” Tony said, his voice too bright for the darkness that Peter felt.
Peter nodded solemnly and allowed himself to be pushed toward the doors. This was his home now, it felt wrong, but Peter knew he would get used to it.
Tony gripped Peters shoulder, reassuring. “It’s gonna be alright, kid.”
Peter wanted to disagree, he didn’t believe a word coming out of Tony’s mouth.
His voice was quiet, “I don’t know Mr. Stark.”
Tony offered him a smile, “Don’t worry, kid. You’re gonna be just fine.”