Day 67
Peter inhaled sharply, dust stung his throat as he drew in the breath. He coughed as the particles tore at his throat, which only caused him to draw in more dust, and cough more. His chest tightened as he wheezed. Panic gripped his throat. He couldn't breath! To much dust! Toomes... was he here? Did he do this?
Peter gasped for more air, but he couldn't find any. The sound of blood rushing past his ears only furthered his panic. Soon it was all he could hear.
Get out. Get out. GET OUT!
The words hammered in head with every stressed pound of blood against his skull. Peter tried to scream, but the dirt and overall lack of air choked him off and he ended up just squeaking.
"Kid..."
A strained voice cut into Peter's panicked thoughts. He knew the voice...
Peter forced his eyes open. Everything was dark apart from a pale blue glow just above him. It illuminated the dark figure over him.
"Kid I need you to calm down... Okay? Can you do that for me Pete?"
"Mr. Stark?" Peter coughed his mentor's name. It was to good to be true. There was no way he was here. He hadn't been there the last time a building had collapsed. Why would he be here for this one?
"Yeah kid..."
Peter's muscles relaxed and the blood pounding in his ears quieted. His father was here. He would be safe. His dad would never let anything hurt them they would just fine.
"Are you hurt Pete?" Tony's voice cracked as he spoke.
"Yeah, I think- I think I'm okay," Peter felt surprisingly not broken. How had all of the debris missed him? How was he almost completely untouched.
Peter looked up at his mentor's armored form just above him and came to a realization.
None of the debris had fallen on him because Tony had covered him with his own body.
The math had only taken Tony a fraction of second to do. There were hundreds of tons of rock on top of them, and there were at least good ten tons bearing down on him alone. If his suit had been much slower both he and his son would be dead.
Sweat trickled down his forehead.
"Sir I am detecting-"
"Shut up Friday," Tony growled. Hearing about his injuries would only send him into panic. He could not panic. Not here. Not now. Not in front of the kid. A panic attack would potentially weaken him, and if he was weakened he might not be able to hold up the tons of cement baring down on his back.
So he didn't panic, for once he didn't panic. No, instead he decided to talk.
"So kid... How was school today?"
His muscles screamed.
"Mr. Stark is now really-"
"Kid!" Tony almost shouted, "Please- just can you- I can't- can you-"
The suit could handle weight, but not all of it.
"Right um- yeah... school was great," Peter rasped.
"Cool... what did you do?"
Something liquidy and metallic tasting tickled the back of his throat.
"Not much. We had some tests," Peter rambled, "I am a little nervous about my geometry test, but geometry is pretty easy so..."
Tony was only half listening. He was listening to the kids voice, but he couldn't focus enough to really know what the sounds were actual saying, so he didn't focus on the words he focused on the music of his son's voice.
His bones cracked
Peter was half way through the story about making a volcano in science when something warm and wet dripped on his abdomen, and soaked through his shirt. Peter ignored it. It was probably just water. Peter was about to start his story up again when another one hit him in a different spot. Then other in the first place, then back to the second place, and then a drop hit him in a third spot. The small warm drops came irregularly, but they kept dripping against him. Shivers ran down Peter's spine. He didn't think they were water anymore.
He reached his hand down and wiped one of the wet spots on his shirt and brought it up to his nose and sniffed it. The metallic odor of blood hit him like a punch in the gut.
"Mr. Stark-?"
The man didn't answer him.
"Mr. Stark!" Peter screamed.
The pale blue glowing eyes of the Iron Man suit stared down at Peter. Cold and unresponsive.
"DAD!" Peter screamed louder.
"hmm? ... What do you need kid?" Tony's hesitant response was thick with strain and pain.
"You're bleeding," Peter stammered.
"Cool I'll put it on the list," His father rasped with a halfhearted joke.
"We need to see what's wrong!" Peter cried, "What if you bleed to death?!"
"Kid-"
"Mr. Stark!" Peter squinted through the blackness just enough to make out the vague outline of three rebars poking through the torso of the suit, "No! No! Mr. Stark we have to do something! It's ba-"
"Kid!" The sharp anger in his father's voice choked Peter's words out of his throat.
"but-"
"I need you to stop," Tony's voice was shrill and pained, "I need you to not talk about it. Okay?"
"but-"
He had to do something to help his father.
"No buts Peter. I just need you to ignore it and keep telling me about your day. Friday called for help. Someone will be here to save you soon."
You.
Blood had worked its way into Tony's mouth a long time ago. He wasn't entirely sure at what point the feeling had left the lower half of his body, but it would've had to have been pretty soon after the building came down, because other wise he was pretty sure he would've been able to feel what ever it was that was causing him to lose blood.
His muscles weakened.
"You mean us?"
Peter's voice cut into Tony's concentration.
"What?" Tony choked out his question as a little more blood slipped into his mouth.
"You said some will be here to save me, you meant us... right?"
"Yeah... us..."
You.
They were coming to rescue Peter. He was pretty sure that they weren't going to be fast enough for him.
"Sir the rescue teams have set to work."
"Thanks Fri," Tony muttered.
"You'll- we'll be fine," Tony hated lying to his son.
His vision blurred.
"You'll be fine kiddo."
"So will you Mr. Stark..." Peter's voice was more distant than it should have been.
His muscles gave a little.
No! Be strong! Be strong! Be strong! Don't give in now!
Pieces of jagged metal from the suit poked into his back.
Don't break now.
Something in him gave.
He had thought he could hold it. He had thought he could have held it for ever, but it was about to break him. He was going to break and it would kill his son.
The rock crushing down on his back shifted a little. It got lighter. It didn't push down as much.
Tony let his eyes close.
Peter's muscles screamed as he pushed up on the massive piece of stone above him and his father.
"It's okay Mr. Stark. You don't have to hold it any more," Peter assured his father, who didn't respond. Peter didn't freak out this time. His dad was probably just focusing on the toil at hand. Not talking was probably wise. They needed to save energy.
The silence bore down on him almost as much as the mass of stone above them. Peter had an idea. He maneuvered himself so his feet were pressed against the stone to hold it up, and he went for his phone.
"I am going to put on music," Peter announced. Music would help him focus, and it might aid the rescuers in finding them.
The rocks shifted above them. Help was close.
Peter was pretty sure he could it until then.
"Thanks for the help kid," Tony's mumble was barely audible, but it still filled Peter with strength.
His dad was obviously spent, but Peter wasn't. His arms and legs hurt, but he could hold it.
He would hold it.
He would hold until help got them.
He had to.