The sound of the door sliding open had Peter flinching to cover his ears. It had to be done. Vision had offered to phase May through the wall but that was just a little too weird for her to handle at that moment. It didn't mean she enjoyed it.
He was small on the massive bed, curled on his side with his hands over his ears and eyes closed tight. So small. The door slid closed and the sound caused him to whimper but mercifully plunged them into near darkness that it took her eyes a second to adjust.
She slipped out of her shoes and tip toed to the bed, trying so hard not to make any noise as she went.
The bed dipped under her weight and Peter’s body was trembling so much it was shaking the mattress.
No one had a handbook or any helpful advice when it came to something like this. There was nothing May could refer to guide her. She didn’t think even Peter knew what would make it better. But even if they did, he’d suffered enough, and he couldn’t afford to wait.
“Peter?” She asked, her voice not a whisper but low enough for his ears. He bit off another whimper.
“May?” Peter croaked and then winced at the sound of his own voice. He didn’t open his eyes so she caressed a finger over his temple, soothing away the tension along his hair line. He melted into the touch and before she could blink his face was pressed against her chest as he clung to her like she was his only life line.
“It’s going to be ok,” she said again, low and quiet, with a firm hand in his hair.
“This is what you do to people, Tony.”
Peter tried to move but the harder he pushed the more air strangled its way past his lips into what was definitely a humiliating whine. Tony was so pale, blue almost black veins ensnaring the side of his face that Peter didn't even care. Peter didn’t know what it was but Mr. Stark looked hurt and he needed to get to him.
But he couldn’t move!
A boot pulled along Peter’s face, rubber pushing his hair back from above him.
“You ruin lives. And now? You’re going to ruin his. You’re going to be the reason why this boy loses his mind.”
Tony’s prone figure barely twitched, his eyes wide and intense as Peter was dragged away.
“Damnit!”
Natasha waited until all of the shattered pieces fell to the ground and the echo of the crash was swallowed by Tony’s harsh breathing before stepping into the doorway. She bent down and cradled the remains of some high tech sunglasses she was pretty sure were meant to filter out light for Peter into her hands.
It was going to take a lot more than some tricked out sunglasses to help Peter but she knew she didn’t need to say it for Tony to hear. He already knew.
Tony propped himself up on his fists at the edge of his work bench, his shoulders heaving with every inhalation passing through his nostrils. Natasha stepped forward, clicking her heel on the ground so she didn’t startle him. Tony glanced over his shoulder and spotted her. He grimaced and rolled his eyes before snatching something up to fiddle with.
“What are you doing here?” Tony asked barely concealed venom. “Shouldn’t you be heading out with the rest of the Cap’s Merry Band of Bandits.”
“I wanted to see how you were doing,” she said evenly. Tony snorted and tossed his tool onto his work bench with a metal clank.
“Fan-fucking-tastic. How about you?” He spun on his heel and stared her down. “You and Rogers called this. How are you doing?”
“I don’t want to fight,” she said, her thumb running along the dents in the metal in her hands. She knew he expected her to play the middle man. He thought she would defend Steve’s case. Tony was baiting her and she wasn’t biting.
Tony let out a bitter laugh but didn’t say anything as Natasha stepped alongside him. She carefully put the damaged glasses down and gave Tony a moment to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t move.
“You took a hit too, Tony,” she murmured because she knew he’d hate for anyone else to hear and latch onto it. It was a defense mechanism of someone who always felt cornered.
Tony shook his head despite the bruises on his face arguing against him.
“I should’ve known. It’s always got to be about me. Even---“ Tony’s breath hitched in his throat, a tremor finding it’s way along his shoulders. “Even when it’s not about me, it is. I’m the reason that even the sound of the wind sends him spiraling. Me? I took a hit? The kid took the hit. A Tony shaped hit."
Natasha didn't say anything.
"He didn’t even know about Spider-Man." Tony added, petulant and pointed. "He just knew that Peter was linked to me and it’s my fault because I brought him into the mess. I brought the kid into my life. I did that!”
Natasha didn’t stop him as he turned away from her to compose himself.
“How can I help, Peter?” Peter blinked but the blurriness in his eyes didn’t leave.
“Karen?” He squeaked, hating the sound of his own voice in his ears. “What are you doing here?”
“FRIDAY and Mr. Stark thought my voice may bring some comfort to you.” The AI was on a lower setting and if at all possible lacking her normal humor for a more sympathetic somber sound.
It did little to slow the thumping of his heart against his chest but he latched onto Karen all the same.
“You began to hyperventilate again,” Karen said and Peter pressed himself into the pillows under him, feeling the heat of a blush creep up his neck. He hadn’t even realized.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Will you tell them to be quiet, please?” It was small and meek but even he could hear the shouting of the other Avengers. Mostly Mr. Stark and Captain America.
Karen didn’t respond but soon the unsettling quiet of an argument interrupted followed and he tried to hide further into the blankets around him.
Pete let his headphones drop to hang from his shirt collar as he stepped off the elevator.
“Hey Mr. Stark,” he called, dropping his backpack to the ground. He wrapped the chord around his latest dumpster find--- a practically untouched VCR--- and set it on the marble counter leading into the kitchen. If Mr. Stark wasn’t ready for him to test out the newest updates on the suit then he was going to take that bad boy apart and see what pieces he could pull.
“Mr. Stark?” He called again. Weird. With his headphones out and the distinct lack of Metallica blaring through the apartment he became aware of the stilted silence. FRIDAY usually greeted him when he walked in. Had he missed that? Rude.
“Hello?”
Had he gotten the day wrong? Mr. Stark usually told him if he was going to be in the apartment on his own. But if he went by the dim lighting and the stifling silence that didn’t belong anywhere near Mr. Stark, he almost would’ve thought no one was home.
What if he walked in on Mr. Stark with Ms. Potts? Did he just crash their date night?
Something felt off kilter and he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
What if Mr. Stark had like a heart attack or something? He was getting old. But he wasn’t old enough for that, right? FRIDAY would’ve noticed… right?
“Mr. Stark,” he said louder. Nothing.
It was a racing chill up his spine that crawled into his neck. One minute he was staring out at the New York City skyline trying to catch a glimpse of the Iron Man suit and the next he was twisting out of the way of an oncoming fist. His hand wrapped around the offending wrist with a strong grip but the ear-splitting shriek had him gasping.
Sharp. Blood curdling. All encompassing. His head felt like it was splitting on one side and before he could stop himself, his body went slack into complete utter motionless. He fell forward, unable to stop, until a pair of strong hands caught him around his biceps and squeezed.
“That one is still one of my favorites,” a deep rumbling voice hummed. “Looks like your protégé finally arrived.”
Peter wanted to pull away but he couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move? A wheezed escaped his lips as he tried to force his body into motion. Every blaring warning signal linked with his genetically encoded instincts were racing through him but there was nothing he could do!
His knees buckled under him and the voice holding him up chuckled.
“Steady now, kid,” the voice said, his grip tightening to the point that he could feel the bruises heating up on his skin. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.”
Strong Grip lowered him to the floor, taking care to have Peter’s head turned to his side.
From his angle on the ground he could see Tony’s pale prone form staring at him with something close to paralyzing horror.
“I’m… I’m fine,” Peter finally said. “It’s just… it’s too much right now… I can’t… I can’t…filter...”
He started to hyperventilate again and May waited out another panic attack.
"Tony?" Steve's voice sounded like shattered crystal through the phone against Tony's throbbing head.
"Help..." He gasped, his body still half paralyzed and sluggish. "T-the kid."
"Tony?" But Tony's body betrayed him and he fell into a heap on the ground, the phone skidding away from him. "Tony!"
"I'm here," May said, lying flat on her back and letting Peter curl on top of her, trying not to think about the fact that the sound of his own voice sent Peter into hysterics.
Steve’s fingernails were broken and bloody by the time he ripped off the welted shut door. But he didn’t give a single damn about his fingernails when he could finally see inside.
Peter whimpered when he saw him.
It nearly sent Steve to his knees right then and there. The teen was pressed into a corner of his small prison, knees drawn tight against his chest and his teeth digging blood from his lip.
“Pete---“ He started before the walls flashed in bright rapid succession that had Steve seeing spots. Peter actually jumped, slamming his eyes shut, and the sound that escaped his throat would’ve thawed Steve out from the ice that had frozen him all those years ago. He stretched into the cage, his shoulders able to touch both the floor and the ceiling at the same time, and pulled Peter out. It wasn’t hard.
Two black headphones that wrapped around the back of his ears and looked way more advance than Steve was comfortably identifying were blaring a cacophony of sounds that even he could hear. He went slower than he would’ve liked taking them off, afraid something would shift and hurt the kid worse if he messed up, but once his ears were free Peter sagged against him and Steve tossed them away.
“Holy shit.” He heard Clint whistle out a harsh curse reminding Steve that he was even there. The archer had been freeing Peter’s hands from the black bags tied around his wrist. “That bastard kept his hands in glass shards.”
Peter snatched his hands away from Clint the moment they were free and pressed them against his ears, streaking blood from the thousands of tiny cuts across his face.
The blaring headphones. The random flashing walls. The rough glass.
Tony had said something about super senses and Steve only just beginning to understand the gravity of what exactly Peter had endured those long torturous hours he’d been missing.
Steve looked down at the beaten body in his arms. Peter grimaced, his chest heaving with effort at trying to stay quiet, and his overall spirit showing true defiant grit. Any normal man would’ve gone crazy from the over stimulation and the kid was fighting everything tooth and nail.
“Get rid of that,” Steve finally said, scooping the kid up in his arms and hurrying to get away. Clint gave him a single nod and shot an explosive arrow into the cell.
May found Tony in the hallway on the floor with his elbow resting on his knees.
He looked terrible.
When he saw her coming he went to stand but May just sat down next to him, dropping her head to rest against the wall with a tired sigh.
Tony sniffed, a twitch he had whenever he was trying to find the words. The icepack stopped being cold forty minutes earlier but he kept it over his bloody knuckles so May couldn’t see.
Punching the wall after Steve and the others had left to go back into hiding hadn’t been smart but the realization that Peter had probably heard the wall shake sent him to his knees.
How do you fix something like this? He was a genius. He should’ve already figured something out. What do you even say?
May, I’m sorry your nephew may never be able to go outside without falling into a panic attack? My bad?
Didn’t seem to really cover it.
He didn’t know what he felt worse about. The fact that there was nothing he could do or the fact that he’d promised May Iron Man would take care of Spider-Man and Tony Stark couldn’t even protect Peter Parker. Peter Parker who was worth ten Spider-Mans and more and he was certainly worth more than Tony ever would.
But Tony had done what he’d always done. He fell into the same traps he always did. Because… for all the shielding he did both mentally and physically, Tony was like an open wound that you could poke and prod until it seeped with a reaction. And now Tony had wounded Peter a little bit too.
“He always used to hate loud sounds,” May said suddenly, her voice tired and fried. She swung her head to rest on her own shoulder, gazing at Tony with the expression of a woman drained of all feeling and was simply living to survive.
He couldn’t meet that gaze.
May shrugged and her long brown hair draped over her shoulder sending plumes of vanilla and cinnamon scented shampoo his way.
“Fireworks were the worst. He would sleep in Ben and mine’s bed all night whenever he heard them. And thunderstorms? Oh my God you wouldn’t believe the number of times he dive bombed us in the middle of the night. I got so good that I would just catch him in my sleep and roll over.”
I’m so sorry. It was on the tip of his tongue. He was sorry for everything. But sorry didn’t even begin to cut it.
“Ben and I thought it had something to do with the crash, you know,” she continued, crossing her ankles in front of her. “But I don’t know and think that's just always been a thing for him. It’s why he listen to his music. It helps filter the noises out. Ben’s idea.”
She chuckled at that, dryly and a little bitter, but the roll of her eyes was easy.
“But he could always recognize you. Your uh… what do you call them?” She asked flinging out her hand but she didn’t wait for him to answer. “Whatever. Your suit. He always could tell it was you when you would fly around the city even when he was little. We went to your expo thing once. It was fun. Left early after the crazy robots attacked though.”
The way she said that had a painful laugh burst out of Tony’s lips and heat pool behind his eyes.
“And then the alien invasion happened and all I could think was how loud it was. We could hear it even in Queens. And Peter was just so overwhelmed---”
“Is he going to be ok?” Tony finally blurted out, his breath hitching when he realized the words were tumbling out of his mouth. He scoffed afterwards and shook his head. “God, what am I asking? Of course he’s not. It’s my fau---“
“He’s going to be ok,” May said, cutting him off with a hand on his wrist, her palm warm against his skin. Tony so wanted to believe her. “He’s going to be ok, Tony.”
He couldn’t look at her again and was inches away from sliding to his feet to run when May’s other hand took the icepack off his knuckles and curled around the arch of his palm.
“He heard you that day Tony. With the aliens and the bombs. He heard your suit when you flew into that black hole thing in the sky. And he needs to hear you now.”
Tony shook his head in denial because there was no way he should ever float into Peter’s orbit ever again but May’s grip was firm on his arm.
“Yes,” she pressed. “Yes, he does because when he hears you, he’s safe. And he needs to know that.”
“He doesn’t need me when he has you,” he finally said, meeting her gaze. May blinked and sighed.
“Yes, he does.”
She didn’t move from her spot on the floor when he eventually stood, his knees nearly buckling from sitting on the ground for so long. She simply watched as he wobbled his way to Peter’s room.
He was quick to step through the door and nearly chickened out when the sound and the light had Peter jerking under his mound of blankets until they were left in darkness again. But he could make out Peter’s head rising off the pillow in the dark and thought his heart was going to burst out of his throat.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter asked, swallowing to try and hide the wobble that had been in his voice.
“Yeah, Pete it’s me.” Well, he was all in now.
“You’re ok?”
And, God, he didn’t deserve the relief that was laced in the kid’s voice. But he smiled anyway because leave it to Peter be relieved that Tony of all people was ok after everything he’d been through.
“Yeah, kid,” he said. “I’m ok.”