Whumptober Prompt Stories

“Wait what? Ugh it’s a Sundayyyyy, Mister Stark.”

“Don’t even try it kid” he replied with humour in his voice, “we both know you’re already halfway into the suit and very awake by now.” Peter froze from where he was hopping on one leg, the phone tucked between his shoulder and ear, with the suit pulled just over his hips.

“What – how did y… actually you know what never mind, I’m on my way now.” He shoved the phone to his other ear and returned to tugging the suit back over his body with a smirk.

“Sure kid, see you soon.” The call ended right as he kicked the suit mask up from the floor with his foot, grabbing it with his free hand.

“See ya” he muttered as he pulled the mask on and blinked a few times, relaxing as the light was filtered for his sensitive eyes. “Let’s go!” He whooped as he jumped from the building and took the very familiar swing down to the warehouse district of Manhattan. They really should just have someone monitoring that place all the time because the amount of times he had to stop petty crime down there was exhausting. By the time he got there his arms weren’t even that tired, he was just kind of bored, not really though. Spider-Man beat sleeping any day of the week – especially whenever he got one on one missions with Tony.

“Hey, Mister Stark, you know what we should have?” He dropped beside the man casually and the suit turned toward him, face-plate up to reveal that the man was really inside. He did that a lot when they had missions together, proving he was there with Peter. He thought maybe the genius noticed when he was a little disappointed the times he wasn’t in the suit.

“What’s that kid? You took your time” he grinned and snapped the faceplate shut, satisfied that Peter knew he was really here this time.

“Sorry you didn’t give me repulsors” he smiled right back, not as visible under his mask but it didn’t matter. “I was gonna say that you know how you and Cap have that cool move where you shoot his shield and it makes the light beam thingy and it’s super awesome?”

“Yep.” He was surveying the area nonchalantly, but he was actually listening to the kid, because he cared what he was saying even though he was just babbling to fill the silence.

“Yeah, so I figured we should have something like that right? Maybe I could swing from you or we could make a repulsor web? If that’s even possible to make, I mean the physics behind me shooting a web that shoots repulsor rays would be really tedious so probably not, maybe we could just –”

“Wait! Pete… shh.” He raised a finger to his lips and he immediately shut up. His senses weren’t humming, but he did hear a vehicle approaching, and when he focused hard enough he heard some clanging from inside the warehouse. “F.R.I? Run heat scan.”

“Mister Stark you never even told me what the mission was, care to de-brief me for a second?” He fiddled with his mask display while he waited.

“Uh, yeah. We got some underground organisation that’s been tracking and recreating Avengers shi – stuff, Avengers stuff for a few years now and this is the place they’ve been copycatting the Iron Man suit.”

“Avengers shit” Peter huffed under his mask, laughing, “how young do you think I am again?”

“Language – think of how disappointed poor Cap would be” Tony returned his laugh as he pressed the suit against the side of the building, ducking back as the van’s wheels screeched when it pulled up.

“Someone needs to check their left wheel.” He rubbed his ear sorely but followed Tony’s lead, sticking himself to the wall and crawling just above the man confidently.

“Show – off” he muttered, knowing Peter would catch it.

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing” he mocked, forcing a very exaggerated gasp of offense. “When are we busting in? I could just drop in through the roof if that’s easier.”

“Wait till everyone’s inside so we can contain it. They may have copied my suits, but not well, in any sense of the word.”

“Yeah but then again even I probably couldn’t recreate one of the suits to your standard, remember how much of a piece of… uh, crap, my first Spidey suit was?” He chuckled quietly to himself and refrained from swearing.

“I was actually impressed; do you know how hard it is to find a fifteen-year-old kid who’s smart enough to develop a web fluid with the bare minimum supplies you had. Weren’t you using a computer you found in the trash or something along those lines?” He pressed further against the wall as several men made their way inside.

“Really? You were impressed? That’s awesome –”

“Show time.”

“We gonna use the front door, or should I jump from the ceiling and you punch through the wall?” The boy was practically vibrating with energy and for a second he considered telling him to punch through a wall, but shook away the thought, biting back a laugh.

“You know, I think the front door is pretty bad-ass on its own.” He watched as Peter lurked across the side of the building in the lead. “You really are a Spiderling aren’t you?” He could tell the kid rolled his eyes under the mask as he passed him and turned the corner.

“Ready?” The smaller form beside him may have been so innocently non-threatening without the get-up, but with his narrowed mask eyes and classic ‘superhero’ stance he passed for slightly menacing.

“Ready to make a better entrance than you” he challenged. Before the boy could protest, he raised his hand and blasted the doors down, stepped through the rubble and waited for the dust to clear.

“Oh yeah, it’s on” he muttered to himself as he jumped in behind Tony, using the smoke from the blast to slink back and attach himself to the wall inside, unseen by anyone. He wound his way up to the ceiling and hung there for a second, waiting for the iconic pre-battle banter to begin.

“I’ve heard imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but this is a bit too far guys.” Tony laughed from inside the suit, waving his arms at the ten or so unmanned Iron Man replica’s, it reminded him of the whole Justin Hammer fiasco. There were only twelve men in the warehouse, eleven of which snapped their heads up to look at him. The twelfth man didn’t bother to turn, just stayed hunched over a large, metal work bench where he was tinkering away at something. “Hey, faceless guy at the back, yeah? The one playing with things he shouldn’t, might wanna appreciate that I’ve actually bothered to grace you with my presence. I’m a busy man and all that.”

“Ah yes, Stark, nice to see you finally decided I’m enough of a threat to constitute a little visit, hm?” He swung around in his seat, clutching a remote which he was half-heartedly clicking the back onto.

“Nonsense, the pleasure’s truly all mine.” He snarked right back, rolling his eyes from within the armour at the horribly clichéd chair spin entrance. He was mildly surprised the man wasn’t evilly stoking a cat in his lap. “You gonna come quietly or do you plan on turning this into a whole thing?” Gesturing once again to the suits stood at the sides of the room.

“Well I don’t know, what do you feel like doing?” The man replied with a smirk.

“I don’t know, I’d much rather be at home playing with the cool toys I have in my garage.” He overenunciated the worlds like he was talking to a toddler. “But then again, when do I ever get what I want” he lifted his head as the man stepped down from his table, still waving the remote that perked Tony’s attention in his hand.

“I hope you don’t mind, I think personally, I would love to give my little toys a test drive before I scrap them in favour of… other projects.” The pearly smile the guy flashed wasn’t too friendly and he stepped one foot back and raised a hand dramatically, aiming a not yet charged repulsor at the smug face.

“You gotta do what ya gotta do when it comes to taking down the self-confident pricks.” The other men moved forward to flock the obvious leader and Tony smiled. “What, don’t feel like manning your little replica’s today boys?”

“Bold of you to assume my suits need men Stark.” He didn’t hesitate to press the buttons on the remote and the machines whirred to life less gracefully than the very developed one they were planning on fighting.

“Oh, lordy here we go” he sighed, readying himself as a flash of red and blue whipped past his view.

“Hey guys, mind if I swing by just to, ah, maybe do some of this,” Peter flicked a web at the remote in the man’s hand, hitting it dead-on before yanking it out of his grip and throwing it in a graceful arc to Tony. “And a little of this too,” he shot two webs at the same man, who was now undecidedly the leader of the whole operation, sticking his hands and waist to the bench behind him. He turned around and spread his arms out, a wide grin plastered across his face as he spoke to his challenger. “What did I tell you Mister Stark, I got a thing for dramatic flair!” He flipped and kicked the nearest man hard enough to drop like a stone, but he was still breathing. One of the suits flew in front of Tony’s path and he spent less than a minute grappling and dodging blows before he was blasting its head off and sending it rolling to the floor with about as much usefulness as an empty tin can. Peter had taken out about a third of the men while he was occupied.

“You should stop pulling your punches kid” he could hear the kid’s steady breathing from where he was fighting the second suit alongside him, and it wasn’t fair because he wasn’t out of breath yet and he had webbed eight of the twelve guys down already without so much as a scratch.

“I thought adult weren’t supposed to condone murder?” He stuck the second to last man to the wall beside Tony proudly before turning to the last one.

“Oh yeah, right, I forget you have super strength with how much effort it takes for you to open a pickle jar.” He sends the third suit flying past Peter in pieces and decides to take the fifth and sixth on together, seeing how easy it was proving to disable them with his repulsor blasts after dodging their blows. They were programmed pretty well, the blows would most likely dent his armour if he didn’t fight back, and he was admittedly a little hesitant to let Peter take one on without any protection, excluding his flimsy spandex.

“Hey, if I used full strength on a pickle jar I’d end up with a fistful of glass and the equivalent of pickle guacamole.” He webs to the wall behind the final man and as he swings past he shoots his elbow out and hears a noise as the man drops to the floor in a heap. “That’s gonna be a headache when you wake up” he said as he stuck the man down in precaution. The clanging of the sixth suit is satisfying for the billionaire to hear as he braces himself for the seventh and eighth.

“Wanna alert the cops while I finish up here?” He says after he ducks a particularly vicious swing from one of the robots.

“Nope, I wanna add fighting Iron Man replicas to my superhero resume if you don’t mind.” He swung towards the opposite end of the warehouse where the fight with the machines had primarily stayed and Tony began to watch him out of the corner of his eye, vehemently denying that he was being overprotective of the kid. He watched as Peter took on the ninth and tenth, having much more trouble with them than the men. He blasted the seventh through the chest and cursed under his breath as he dodged the red and blue figure soaring past him and slamming against the metal wall of the warehouse.

“Kid! You good?” He moved to help as the remaining three robots surrounded the two, but he was back up on his feet in a blur and shaking off all of Tony’s concerns with a childish but annoyingly heart-warming salute. “Cute” he scoffed, masking how adorable he actually found the gesture with a sarcastic tone before choosing to take on two of the three himself. He hoped by forcing Peter to grapple with one he would be chucked around like less of a ragdoll.

“Hey Mister Stark, when I’m done here, what do I do about him?” He broke off a bot’s shin and gave himself enough time to glance up at what Peter was talking about. The leader, who hadn’t been knocked out, was slicing through the webbing at an embarrassingly slow pace.

“I’ll deal with him, focus on your guy for no – ah!” He was cut off when the robot who’s shin he had blown off shot it straight back at his head.

“You okay?” Peter shouted at him in concern, stupidly taking his eyes off his own bot in favour of checking his mentor wasn’t hurt.

“Rude!” Tony shouted, fake anger in his tone as he blasted his second to last opponent. “I’m fine kid, like I was saying, focus on your guy for now.” He was in the process of getting his last suit to waver for a second long enough, so he could fire at it, but he abandoned his focus when a pained grunt and a more than exasperated yell sounded from behind him.

“Get off!” Peter’s bot had wrapped itself around the boy and had its arms around his neck while his back was pressed against its metallic chest. He surged forward, terrified at the thought of the thing cutting off the kid’s oxygen, not when this was supposed to be an easy mission.

“Hey, pick on someone your own size!” He hadn’t even made is five steps when his own bot attached itself to his suit’s arms and the piercing sound of metal against metal was filling his ears. He lurched backward at the extra weight and was almost bowled over when the thing raised its legs and magnetised them to the waist of his armour. “What the hell is this?” He called, jerking his elbows back in hopes of dislodging what was currently latched onto his back. A resounding snap had him pausing, looking up to see that the leader had finally freed his last hand from Peter’s webbing and immediately reached around to grab something from his desk.

“Initiate last resort protocol!” He yelled into what Tony presumed was a comm.

“Underoos! What’s going on – you good over there?” He continued to struggle with his robot while he called to Peter, choosing to ignore the leader for the time being, more focused on getting himself free so he could help the teen. He could see the metal beginning to warp and bend under the boy’s fingers as he presumably used all his strength to pull away the arms holding his head in place.

“I’m good, it isn’t even squeezing my neck, so –” He was cut off by himself, as a blood-curdling scream escaped his lips and blue light surrounded the bot holding him. Tony could feel his suit when it went offline, and the weight of the robot slipped off his back. He didn’t care about himself though, he was focused on Peter whose body was convulsing and seizing under the electric current pulsing through him. That scream was the worst noise he had ever heard, and he wanted it to stop so desperately. He couldn’t move, his suit was locked down, powered completely down so he was practically encased in the iron prison watching Peter jerk and thrash wildly, his screams morphing into howls of agony.

And then it stopped. Well, his screaming did, the electricity continued long after his eyes had rolled back in his head under the mask.

“Stop it! Stop! You’re going to kill him – turn it off!”

“Oh, Stark.” Something tapped against the outside of his suit and he tore his eyes off the haunting sight of Peter writhing with the current. The leader had walked across the room and was tapping an unlit blow torch against his faceplate and smirking. “You care about him, don’t you?” God, he was so sick of people doing this shit to him, this is why he put up walls and denied any form of close relationship with people, because this always happened. They always ended up getting hurt. In saying that, he doesn’t know why he said what he did next, maybe it was impulse, maybe he was just going along with whatever the man was saying so that he would stop.

“Of course I fucking do, turn it off – please, you’re hurting him!”

“It turns off on its own after a little bit, once the energy runs out.” True to the man’s word, after a few more excruciating seconds the robot stopped emitting the shocks and as it fell back, so too did Peter slump forward and crumple to the ground. He laid, sprawled across the concrete floor of the warehouse on his front, unmoving apart from the smoke rising from his suit. The torch scraped along the paint over his armour as the leader dragged it along with him, stalking toward the unconscious Peter with intent glinting in his eyes.

“No! Back away from him or I swear I will fucking –”

“You’ll do what? Stand there in your dysfunctional suit and watch while I do whatever I want to, because we both know that’s the only outcome of this situation.” He snapped his mouth shut, unsure of what to say. He tried to move again, wrenching his arms and legs in hopes of forcing his suit forward. Nothing, absolutely nothing happened, and he silently cursed himself for making the thing so immobile when it was powered down. “Let’s see what exactly makes you care so much, huh?” The man was crouched above Peter, his fingers slipping toward the helpless kid’s mask, itching at the edges and dragging his nails toward the seam that separated the head piece from the body of the suit.

“No! Leave him alone – I swear to god I will give you nothing but a painful end if you even lay a finger on him!” The man didn’t even flinch at Tony’s threat, in fact he only proceeded to slip his fingers into the underside of the fabric and start to slowly pull it off the boy’s unconscious face. “Get away!” He yelled, pouring every ounce of intimidation and command into his voice as possible. The mask was pulled away and thrown to the side, leaving Peter’s face bare and exposed to the calculating eyes of the man. An aggressive grin split his face as he drank in the stunningly young face of the boy draped out beneath him.

“Impressive…” he murmured as he ran a strikingly gentle knuckle across the slowly darkening bruise forming across Peter’s left cheekbone. “So, Tony Stark,” his grin only widened as he gripped the mop of chestnut curls and tugged upward so the teen’s closed eyes faced Tony and his neck twisted at an uncomfortable looking angle. “How did you manage to snag this recruit so young, hm? Bit of blackmail? Persuasion money? Or was it you that gave him the powers, so he was indebted to you from the beginning? Tell me the secret of how something so pure was willingly tainted by you and the Avengers’ antics?”

He wanted so badly to check on the poor kid’s vitals like he had made a habit of during battles, but of course his suit was offline and F.R.I.D.A.Y wasn’t functional without power. He didn’t know when exactly it had become a regular occurrence, but whenever he felt the cold grips of anxiety tugging at his chest he would pull up the vitals and watch the steady beat of the boy’s heart and monitor his breathing until the, normally unwarranted, panic had ebbed away, and he could breathe again. From where he was stuck in the suit, he could make out the rapid rise and fall of his chest against the concrete, but what was worrying him at the moment was how unresponsive he was.

“Put him down.” He snapped, silently hoping the gut-wrenching interest the guy seemed to have with the young boy would be lost.

“And why would I do that when he’s the perfect subject for my actual plan? Or how he seems to have you, the all-powerful Tony Stark, wrapped around his finger?” He turned his attention back down to Peter and brought a hand to his chin, angling his face around in the light playfully before turning his torso over with his foot. He rested with his back on the floor and his head tilted towards where Tony was frozen.

“What the hell do you mean ‘perfect subject,’ don’t even dream of a world where I’d let you fucking experiment on that kid.” Under his faceplate his lips curled back into a snarl as he shoved against the metal, trying to get even somewhat closer to where the man was hovering over Peter’s limp form. He was arranging the boy’s limbs, so he wasn’t laying so haphazardly, and it was having a surprising effect of Tony. Anytime the man’s fingers touched Peter he felt his blood boiling more and more, he never knew he could want to kill someone so many times over. He couldn’t understand when or why he had become so protective of the teen.

“He’s comprised very similarly to Captain America, is he not? The whole super soldier serum makeup works well enough for him and I’d assume the same amount of drugs would be required to knock both of them out.” He stood, turning away from Peter and pacing back over to the bench, ignoring his men who were all beginning to wake slowly, groaning from under the webs and starting to tug impatiently at them.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at and I don’t care, I haven’t spoken to Captain America since Germany, so you can quit the evil monologue and leave the kid alone, he doesn’t have anything to do with this.” The man shrugged a white lab coat on and clipped a nametag which Tony couldn’t read from his distance, but he did slip some things into the pockets before whirling around to face the dysfunctional suit.

“Oh, but he really does matter Stark. Granted, he’s not my target, but why let a perfect opportunity to test the drugs I’ve synthesised for the super soldier on someone who’s body works the same way?” He was beginning to use the blowtorch to burn through the webbing that held down the rest of the men, and it was working far quicker than the knife had.

“Don’t even think about testing your shit on him, he isn’t comprised the same way, you could kill him if you go messing around with enhanced drugs.” That wasn’t strictly true, the anaesthetic he had made specifically for Spider-Man’s DNA had been incredibly similar to the one he had made for Steve. To be fair, the kid needed it a lot more than Steve had, because he wasn’t trained and yet he still stubbornly got himself into trouble almost every week that required some bones to be set or a bullet extraction. For a ‘friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man’ he sure did get himself into a whole lot of shit.

“Considering the amount of electricity he just endured was enough to stop a normal humans heart, something tells me he won’t be easy to kill with some drugs.” He freed the last of his men and threw the blowtorch to the side, which rolled across the floor loudly and rolled straight past Peter, grating against the concrete right by his ear. The poor kid’s face scrunched in discomfort even in unconsciousness and he whined softly, tucking his head under an elbow and curling into himself more. Seeing such a vulnerable display of something which would normally have been adorable if he were merely asleep in his bed at the compound made Tony’s insides twist horribly. He felt a sudden urge to pull the boy into his lap and card his fingers through his hair until he settled into sleep again. It was such a paternal instinct and he desperately shoved it deeper down inside himself, refusing to think about how much he had grown to care for him.

As he neared Peter again he pulled something from the pocket of his lab coat that made Tony’s heart clench and stutter on fear. It was a vial of purple serum, attached into a needle.

“Get that away from him!” He shoved against the inside of his suit and felt the terror fighting its way into his throat at he yelled helplessly and pounded against the metal. Peter made small noises and twitched as the man crouched above him once more, tilting his head further to the side and probing his neck for the right vein he needed. When he plunged the needle into the soft flesh and started injecting whatever the purple liquid was, the boy whimpered delicately, and his face scrunched in pain as his eyelids fluttered slightly, not opening, but still dancing at the sensation. “Stop it! What was that?” The man didn’t seem alarmed by how Peter was slowly beginning to rouse, just lazily rubbed at his forehead as if to smooth out the lines of discomfort on the teen’s face.

“Just a simple sedative made to knock out an enhanced, no need to worry Mister Stark. We’ll be out of your hair by the time your suit reboots, so just stay put for the meantime while we transport the boy.”

“You aren’t taking him anywhere, leave him alone.” He ignored the suggestion to stop struggling, and only proceeded to fight harder against his own armour as the rest of the men in the room moved toward Peter. The sedative must have been fast acting, because his entire body had stilled, his muscles were limp, and his cheek rested against the floor. It reminded Tony of the few times he had fallen asleep at the tower, his small head lounging easily against whatever paper he’d been working on at the time of his impromptu nap.

Two of the men were gripping his upper arms, pulling him up so his knees grazed the floor and his head slouched forward with his chin against his chest. The leader came forward, forcing his head back using his chin as a means of tilting it back, he used a thumb to peel open one of Peter’s eyelids open, flashing a small light in it, checking the dilation.

“Get away, stop touching him!” He was slamming his fists into the sides of his suit, not caring about the nasty bruises he was giving himself. He only fought harder when the man pulled away and let the poor kid’s chin drop, where it thudded down against his chest again. He hoped for Peter’s sake he hadn’t bitten his tongue.

“Hold on, before you carry him to the trucks I need to get rid of these.” The web shooters were tugged off his wrists and thrown over by his mask without care. These men didn’t care if Peter worked for months perfecting the web fluid, they didn’t care that he came over to the lab on Friday’s afterschool and stayed the night at the compound. None of them cared about Peter Parker, the sweet, nerdy boy from Queens who only became a hero because he couldn’t stand the idea of having powers and not helping people. They only cared about the genetic makeup of Spider-Man, so they could test drugs on him. It made Tony sick, he couldn’t understand how anyone could overlook how perfect and amazing that kid was.

He watched the men lifting the teen like a dead weight, manhandling him and letting his feet drag along the floor uselessly. He felt his heart clench when one of them slung the languish body over their shoulder and his arms hung loosely, swinging slightly as the men stepped around the debris left from Tony’s entrance. The sound of the vans driving away with a drugged Peter inside was followed by over half an hour of silence where he was left in the warehouse, inside his unmoving suit. He took the time to really work out how the kid had managed to worm his way into his heart and stick there. He thought about how protective and responsible he felt for the boy, and how worked up he got himself when he got the inevitable call of Peter asking to swing over to the tower because he ‘uh, may have gotten a little shot during patrol tonight?’ He will admit to himself, that the kid was endearing, and his kindred spirit mirrored the one he had when he was the same age, perhaps a bit younger. Sure, he had a pretty large amount of care and concern for the boy, but that was probably just because he feels incredibly responsible for his wellbeing, seeing as he made the suit and whatnot. Tony’s own Father was cold and distant, he wants to give Peter more vocal support that he himself got from Howard, but that doesn’t mean he was the kid’s Dad or anything. He may get weird paternal urges when the boy was hurt or upset, but that was as mentor, surely it was just natural, protective instinct for someone unable to defend themselves. Thankfully, his ‘logically, why is this kid so adorable to me’ spiral was cut off by his suit, which began to whirr, and the display lit up again.

“Boss, I believe I was shut down due to an intense electrical output which damaged the suit and forced an emergency reboot to occur.” The A.I’s voice was familiar, and comforting, because it meant he could move. It meant he could start working on saving Peter.

“Yup, I managed to work that one out myself while you took a nap, let’s get to the tower so I can track this kid.”

----

Meanwhile, after three-quarters of an hour, Peter was beginning to wake up.

He was extremely groggy, and his head felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton balls. His mouth tasted funny, almost metallic in flavour. He felt like he was going to throw up, his head was pounding, and he had a migraine working away behind his eyes, which he refused to open. Groaning, he rolled his head back, wincing when the sound of a stiff neck clicking at the movement hurt his ears. He should probably open his eyes, it was the most logical thing to do when the rest of his senses were taking awhile to adjust to the lovely world of consciousness. With his senses so dulled he felt like everything was underwater.

“Ughhh…” he groaned loudly and proceeded to lift a hand up in hopes of rubbing small circles over his temples to ease the headache, he didn’t get far. His hand was wrenched back down and his hit a hard surface, making him groan once more. He peeled his eyes open and looked down at his wrists. They were both tied down to the metal arms of a chair. He would have rolled his eyes if it wouldn’t have made him incredibly nauseous. “Really, is this necessary?” His tongue didn’t comply with his brain that well and his words slurred slightly, which only really served to emphasize his point. With how terrible he felt the restraints probably weren’t needed. He felt strange without his web shooters, and he felt immediately unsafe when he recognised the mundane sensation of the air on his face. Shit. Someone had taken his mask off, and to make it worse he didn’t have any webs to defend himself. “Mis’errr St – ‘ark?” He gave up on trying to force his words into the realm of understandable, as long as someone knew he was awake they would respond, surely Mr. Stark would talk to him until the headache went away. Maybe if he was so out of it that he probably wouldn’t remember it, he would scratch his scalp comfortingly. Peter loved it when he did that but he didn’t even think Tony knew he was aware of it, he only played with his hair when he pretended to be asleep.

“Nope, Stark’s back at the warehouse kid, you can wait till I’ve finished testing some things then you can go home.” The voice was vaguely familiar, but his brain didn’t work anything out quick enough for him to realise who it was that spoke.

“Who – whaa?” He heard a not very friendly sounding chuckle and then there was a pinch at his neck and his eyes were feeling so much heavier.

“Just a few more doses and we’ll be done with the first one, it’s fast acting but you metabolise it pretty quick. In fact, you’ve already burnt through two vials of the stuff…” Peter was losing the battle to stay awake and the words he was trying to listen to were jumbling together and slipping away like a dream and he didn’t notice before, but the darkness felt far nicer than the harsh lights on his un-masked eyes.

----

“F.R.I track the suit; first priority is getting Pete’s location.” He drummed his fingers against the desk, tapping his foot anxiously, watching the screen pull up and zoom in around different areas of New York, trying to catch a signal.

“Unfortunately, I am unable to get a proper reading on Mister Parker’s suit when the mask and the body are in two separate locations.” He grit his teeth is grim determination.

“Well I’m holding the web shooters and mask right here, so is there no way of just tracking the body of the suit?” There was a mechanical pause before a solemn reply.

“I am afraid not.” He hung his head and licked his lips. “Although, I am able to say with viable certainty that Mister Parker has not left New York, as Karen would automatically shut off if the body travelled out of range.” He had a sudden idea, and he spun in his desk chair, pulling up the warehouse district he had flown back from not too long ago.

“Can you find me all the camera’s and satellite footage of the roads that these two vans are on F.R.I?”

“Working on it now Sir.” He blew out a breath and allowed himself to relax his shoulders slightly, propping one side of his head up on a fist and biting at one side of his cheek. “I have the footage here and have managed to trace them to a small facility on the boarders of Brooklyn and Manhattan.”

“Thanks, load that into my suit, would you?”

“Already on it Sir, however I would advise against extended flights for the time being, the power is still dispersing itself evenly and booster strength is not fully functional as of yet.”

“Can I make it to the location without much trouble?” He let the suit form around his body and the headset switched on, the volume of F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice adjusting slightly in his ear.

“Yes, although making it back seems to be where the problem arises.”

“Text Happy the location and have him meet me there then.” The A.I confirmed, and he was off, murmuring a silent promise to Peter that he would get to him soon.

----

If it were possible, when Peter awoke a second time his head felt even fuzzier, and the pain behind his eyes had not only spread across his entire face and neck, but the sharp throbbing was agonising. He felt bile rising in his throat when he tried to suck in a shaky breath. A choked gasp rasped from his too-dry throat and he held back tears when he tried to force his eyes open again. He mumbled incoherently and twisted his wrists and ankles against the bonds that were strapping him down to the uncomfortable chair.

“Wh – wha’s goin’ on?” Although everything still felt underwater, his ears didn’t feel so pressurised anymore and he could actually make out a distant and muffled shuffling as if someone were moving closer to him. He was in a considerable amount of pain, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he kept his eyes squeezed shut against the harsh lighting and tried to divert all the energy he had to his hearing. He jerked back in surprise as a voice whispered right by his face, which only made the queasy feeling in his stomach to worsen.

“You’re in my personal lab space and I’m just testing some drugs out on you, so try to relax a bit.”

“S’ hard to do tha’ when I’ve been tied to a chair agains’ my will.” He heard a soft laugh and then there was pressure in his upper arm and he was too tired to tilt away from the needle, but he tried weakly to do so anyway. “Why’re you doin’ this?” A coldness was spreading through his arm and soaking into him, all the while the dizziness was getting worse. Even behind his eyelids Peter could feel the room spinning around him and his throat getting dryer.

“I’m just testing these out and making sure they work on you, the lesser Avenger, before getting to the real deal.” He managed to force a very incoherent sounding laugh and regretted it when his head protested.

“Well jokes on you, I’m not an Avenger” he giggled again, despite himself and was beginning to wonder what the hell were these drugs because he could still hear himself and he was acting drunk, or high. He didn’t really know the difference considering he wasn’t exactly the party type.

“That’s not much of a surprise given how easy you were to take down.” The voice darkened and didn’t seem to respond well to Peter’s poor attempt at humour. Naturally, he decided to keep talking.

“That’s a bi’ offensive bu’ okay…” He made a high-pitched whining noise and squirmed in his seat, arching his back away from the chair as a very weird sensation flooded through his chest. He felt funny, and then he felt an ache as his lungs constricted and it got harder to draw in a breath. “Ugh, n – no… Don’ – don’ like it…” A finger pressed his sternum and pressed his back against the chair again in warning.

“Stop moving around so much kid, I’ve got the pretty anti-serum here if you have a bad reaction.” There was a rattling of glass against plastic from his right and he assumed the voice was tapping the anti-serum teasingly. He couldn’t stop himself from twisting his body around as much as he could under the restraints. It hurt his face and skull to reposition himself but the fluttery, squeezing feeling in his lungs was worsening and he was finding it more difficult to breathe.

“St – stop it’, hur’s, hur’s… Mm Ah! Hur’s!” He jerked as his breath caught in his chest and he felt the all too familiar burn of not getting enough air. It felt like someone had wrapped their hand over his lungs and were beginning to squeeze them like a stress ball. “I – I…” he wheezed and tried to suck in air, but nothing was working, and all of his breaths were getting caught in his throat before they reached his chest and the burning was getting worse.

“You need to use words, c’mon spit it out, what’s happening.” The voice sounded angrier than before and he flinched away despite the throbbing in his head.

“N – no a – a – air… no br – breathe!” He wheezed again, and it whistled and died out before any oxygen could reach his lungs.”

“Right, I’ll mark that down as inconclusive then because you’re having a bad reaction to it.” He heard the tapping of someone’s finger on a screen and he assumed it was a tablet the voice was using to record his results, but he couldn’t care any less right now because he wasn’t breathing, and he needed the anti-serum now.

There was a crunching and the very familiar and amazing sound of Iron Man’s repulsors blasting through something, but he found it hard to allow the rush of joy to get far because he still. Couldn’t. Breathe.

“M’s’er S’rk…” He gasped weakly and wiggled the restraints again, trying to move in a way that would lessen the pressure that was pressing down on his lungs and stopping them from working. Logically, he knew there wasn’t anything that was really pushing down, but that’s what it felt like. And it felt like pain.

“Hey kiddo, hold tight I’m almost with you!” He keened at his mentor’s comforting voice and arched his back again as his throat began to squeeze shut. He made a horrible, raspy noise that sounded like he was gagged but his lips were parted, and his chest was rising and falling as if he were panting but none of the oxygen was passing through. He whined, and the world was starting to spin around again. He clutched at the arms of the chair and his nails scrabbled at the metal uselessly as the burning spread through his entire torso and neck. “Jesus, kid I’m coming!” He made another tortured noise before promptly letting his body slump under the restraints as he passed out.

Tony worked his way through the room, blasting tables into guards and knocking anyone and anything aside that got in between his path to Peter. “Move” he grunted and sent the leader flying across the lab and slamming into a cleaning station. He checked everybody was either passed out or skittering out of the room in fear before he stepped out of the suit, relishing in the feeling that it actually opened for him this time. “Pete!” He stumbled forward quickly and pressed his fingers to the boy’s neck, finding a healthy, if not mildly rapid, pulse which happily thrummed away under his fingertips. He pulled away to survey the way his lips were far too pale and tinted blue. There was a smear of blood on his neck and upper arm, likely from the repeated injections he had undergone. He fumbled with the restraints and unclipped them hastily before placing steadying but firm hands on the teen’s shoulders. “Wake up now Peter, you gotta wake up for this.” He jostled the boy as roughly as he dared, which wasn’t all that rough at all.

“Mm, hur’s… M’s’er S’rk…” He wasn’t fully awake; his lids were shut but Tony could see his eyes darting around wildly underneath them. He was mumbling incoherently, and it was hard to make out the words, but it was impossible to miss the way he said ‘Mister Stark’ because even if he wasn’t aware now, he uttered it the same way he always did when he was half-asleep or incredibly tired from an intense nap.

“Yep, that’s my name kiddo, don’t wear it out.” He undid the ankle restraints and kept a hand on one of Peter’s shoulders, so he wouldn’t slump forward and fall out of the chair. He leant over and cupped his cheek gently, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone to coax him awake. “Come on then, bat those spidery lashes for me, huh?” He waited, and when the teen did nothing but hum and lean into the touch he gave up with soft pleading. “Don’t hate me for this but if you want to breathe you need to wake up,” he proceeded to pinch the boy.

“No! No more needl’s, no… no a – air!” He snapped to, somewhat, attention, but his eyes stayed shut and his head lolled against Tony’s hand.

“I need you to open your eyes for me please, real important bud.” They squeezed shut more before one hesitantly peeked open, revealing a slit just large enough for him to make out the hazel orbs that laid behind them. “Hey there, nice time for a nap, trust me I know, but you need to breathe now Pete.” He blinked lazily, his thoughts swimming around before the burning in his chest caught up and he reached out with his arms and clutched at Tony’s shirt tightly, balling his hand up in the fabric as he began to wheeze painfully again.

“Need… need an – anti-serum, rev’rse it please M’s’er S’rk, hur’s… hur’s.” He was gasping, and his fingers were twisting at the fabric tightly and Tony blearily wondered if it would rip in the small hands. He guided Peter’s back against the chair again and tapped his chin gently for attention.

“You have to tell me which one it is, see the bench there to your right” his head flopped to the side slackly and his eyes swivelled to what he was pointing out. “Yeah, which one do I give you? There are four there, which one is the anti – serum?” The teen shifted and shook his head.

“I – I don’ – I don’ know…” His breath whistled, and his lips looked bluer than before.

“F.R.I, scan all four, which one is it?” The suit moved for the bench and hovered for a moment before the A.I spoke.

“I am unable to discern –” she began before Tony cut her off.

“Shit! Okay, okay Pete… you really need to think hard, focus up here.” He squeezed his eyes back shut and tried to remember.

“Rattle th – them” he managed, keeping his eyes shut and channelled his hearing as best he could through the pain. Tony shook one vial and it sounded too far away, then another, then another and finally one more. “I – I don’ – the third o – or fourth…”

“Okay, this is – alright, we know it isn’t the last ones but we’re running low on time kid, those lips are really blue, and you seem to be drifting a bit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked in a breath, immediately feeling guilty that Peter couldn’t. The boy forced his eyes open again with considerable effort and stared at the vials, scrunching his face in either concentration or pain, Tony didn’t know.

“Th – thir – third one…” He said, his voice dropping off a little at the end. He wanted to explain himself, but it was hard enough forcing those two words out. He was slumping more in the chair and his head was getting heavier as the edges of his vision swirled black.

“Might hurt a little but I’ll be careful bud,” he didn’t remember seeing Tony move beside him, but he could feel the pain in his arm when the needle pierced his skin. He grumbled under his breath and the room didn’t stop spinning but he did calm himself a little, knowing his mentor was right by his side, a warm hand on his shoulder.

He watched Peter’s face very carefully after he injected him, watching for any change. He didn’t seem to react immediately, but after a minute or two his breathing wasn’t so raspy, and his lips stopped getting bluer. He slipped his fingers back over the boy’s pulse and held them there, hoping that it slowing down was a good sign. “How’s that feeling?” Peter hummed and lolled his head, so it rested fully on his arm. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes, focusing everything on the feeling of the steady pulse thrumming under his fingers. They both let out a breath and for once, both of them were even and solid. “We should get to the car sooner rather than later Pete, I don’t want anyone else busting in here.”

“Mm – m’kay then.” He thinks the teen was just sleepy now.

“Can you walk?” He nodded and pushed himself off the chair, swayed slightly before pitching forward dangerously. He most likely would be nursing a broken nose if Tony hadn’t caught his arm and pulled him into his chest securely. “Alright, I’ll help you then kid, come on.” He threw Peter’s arm over his shoulder and put a hand around his middle, supporting most of his weight as he half guided, and half carried the boy to the car where Happy was waiting.

“Damn, what kind of party was this?” He rolled his eyes at the driver.

“Not a party Hap, he was drugged up for super-soldier purposes and had a bad reaction to a poorly synthesised drug. Get us back to the tower quickly so I can sort him out properly.” The suit folded away and was put into the trunk as he clambered into the backseat, pulling the exhausted Peter in behind him and clicking his seatbelt like a toddler. “Tell me if you’re gonna puke so I can get a safe distance” he joked before buckling himself in next to the boy.

“M’s’er S’rk… m’ play w’th m’ hair…” Peter flopped against him and curled his arms around his waist and snuggled in. Shit. He had a lapful of dozing teenager and was completely unaware of the fact that he even knew he played with his hair while he slept.

“Uhm, you sure that’s comfy kid?” He was not a Dad, he was not a huggy person, he absolutely did not find sleepy Peter excruciatingly adorable. The boy made a humming whiney noise and nuzzled closer into Tony’s chest, relaxing his frame completely in a show of complete and unwavering trust. “O – okay then” he put his arm down from where it was awkwardly raised above the kid, he let it rest along his back and rub small circles over the bumps in his spine. Peter made a noise of content before reaching his own arm out blindly, slapping lightly at the seat before finding Tony’s other hand and tugging at it gently. He relented and let the smaller hand guide his into the mop of fluffy, brunette curls before nestling it there and squeezing his fingers. The squeeze prompted Tony to huff out a laugh and begin to card his fingers through the waves, swirling strands around his finger and scratching at the scalp as Peter practically purred like a cat from below him.

“Mm… than’ ‘ou M’s’er S’rk – feels nice” he didn’t miss the dopey smile that was plastered across the kid’s face as he melted easily into sleep under the rhythmic sensation of his D – mentor ruffling his hair… mentor.

“Anytime kiddo” he sighed contentedly and looked down at the boy who had, without a doubt, melted his heart and made a home there. “Sleep well” he whispered, pressing a feather-light kiss into the curls when the teen was definitely asleep. Peter’s smile broadened, and a blush crept across his cheeks in his very 'real' sleep.