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Consciousness came slowly to Tony. It felt like he was trying to swim up to the surface of a deep pool, except the water was replaced by tar. But he was getting somewhere. The muffled sounds became clearer, turning into human voices. The closer to the surface he was, the more he could distinguish. Several men’s voices, one feminine, and one that was very familiar. Young.
Huh. Who was it?
Tony swam higher to get to the answer.
“I mean, I don’t have to talk to you. I take stranger danger kind of seriously, you know?”
Ah. What a bold lie. He knew exactly who that was.
“I have the right to remain silent.”
“Then by all means feel free to do so,” Tony murmured against the hard cement floor, tongue feeling like a sandpaper. God, his head hurt.
“Mr. Stark!”
Tony grimaced. “Yeah, not helping, kiddo.”
“Oh,” Peter said, lowering his voice, “sorry.”
Still, the relief in Peter’s (loud) cry set Tony on the edge. Something smooth and steely hit his face when he moved to rub the foggy feeling from his face. With more effort that it should take, he opened his eyes, only to be met with… something that began to ring alarm bells.
Firstly, the steely thing that hit his face was actually some pair of thick cuffs connecting him to the ground with a short chain. Secondly, there was Peter looking at him from across the circular room with low ceiling, his hands disappearing behind a thick pipe. And the third thing…
The kid was sitting between Black Widow and Winter Soldier, who were chained in the same manner as Tony. If it wasn’t for the fact that both of them were out of the kid’s reach and Barnes’ metal arm being nowhere in sight, Tony would’ve gone into a cardiac arrest there and then. He’d never thought he would be happy about some chains.
“Nice of you to finally join us.”
Next to Natasha sat Barton, who by the looks of it would be no help either. Beside the two of them, the left side of the room was empty, except for the door. Tony went to inspect the right side of the room, skipping Barnes altogether. Next to the Manchurian candidate was Wilson, and next to him—
“Oh come on,” he groaned.
It was Steve’s turn to grimace. “Tony,” he greeted awkwardly.
“Alright, not to be a… Karen?...” he glanced at Peter, wondering if he used the slang correctly, “but I want to speak to the manager of this – what I assume is – kidnapping. I want a different chainmate.”
Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. He, Peter, four Rogue Avengers and one ex-Hydra assassin – all a bit worse for wear – were trapped in some concrete room, and after the whole publicized fiasco, someone had the gall to put the two of them next to each other.
Pettiness aside, it was time to figure out how they got here.
The Rogue Avengers were granted a parole, and if they manage to uphold it, the parole will turn into a full pardon. In order for that to happen, they needed the place to stay. Since Tony wasn’t known for making the best decisions most of the time, he offered the Compound.
So far the memories tracked.
One of the conditions was no weapons, so Tony had all their ‘dangerous’ stuff loaded on a Quinjet and went to meet them halfway. There they would switch planes. Weapons out, Avengers in.
Peter being Peter, he insisted he came along.
“I’ll be like a… like an emotional support dog!”
And Tony being Tony couldn’t say no to those puppy eyes. The kid was just good like that. Always offering to help.
“All right. But keep your head down, you hear me? I’m merely taking my very normal, totally regular human intern for a joyride, not Spider-Man.”
“Regular human, got it!”
The memories got hazy after that.
“Hey, kid, did we make it to the meeting point?” Tony asked.
Peter’s eyes quickly went over the room, then shook his head. “We were about ten minutes out I think when the Quinjet started to go down. The controls weren’t working so we strapped in, but we still bonked our heads pretty hard. Everything was fuzzy and you weren’t reacting,” he swallowed around the world, “then some people showed up and… I don’t remember anything after that.”
Ah. That would explain the bump and some flaked skin on the kid’s forehead. And if Peter looked like that, Tony had to look way worse. He definitely felt like it. A concussion, most likely. How he wished for the kid’s ability to bounce back from concussions like it was nothing.
“That’s how they got our plane too,” Barton said.
“How long have we been here?” Tony – reluctantly – looked at Steve, who then looked at Natasha, who looked at Peter, who pressed his mouth into a thin line and shrugged. “So you woke up first, huh, buddy?”
God, he must’ve been terrified. Waking up injured in some dungeon surrounded by lifeless bodies of the Earth’s mightiest heroes.
“Tony, who is this?” Steve asked.
“None of your business,” Tony snapped defensively, followed by hissing through another painful wave.
“I’m Mr. Stark’s intern. Totally very normal human intern.”
Yeah, a bit on the noose there, kid.
They had to get out of this place, if only for the fact that Peter’s presence started raising questions Tony forgot his previously prepared answers to. “Rhodey had to notice the plane went down. I bet he already got Happy on the case and sent out a rescue party.”
But who would come to save them? Rhodey was still in no condition to operate the suit, most of his former teammates were here, his Iron Legion wasn’t in fully operational condition yet after the move, and Vision was who-knows-where with Wanda. Essentially, there was no one capable of springing them out besides maybe King T’Challa… who was on a different continent.
Damn it.
“We might as well start to think of a plan in the meantime,” Wilson proposed in an attempt to sugar-coat the bitter reality. He wasn’t the only one to realize the rescue wouldn’t be coming any time soon.
The few ideas they came up with were mostly ruled out to be useless or relied on the kidnappers to reveal themselves – there had to be an opening when they are taken to the bathroom or for interrogation or something. Breaking out using brute force was out of question. Whatever they were shackled with, it was enough to contain Captain America, one of the strongest people on the planet.
If Tony were to guess, they found the stolen vibranium from Wakanda.
None of them could break free. None except Peter. The zip ties he was tied up with were sticking out like a sore thumb.
There were seven of them in the room, but only six of them were chained to the ground. It appeared that their kidnappers, no matter how ready, didn’t account for Peter’s presence on the plane. He couldn’t blame them, really. Peter wasn’t supposed to be on board in the first place.
Tony should consider themselves lucky. After all, the kidnappers could’ve dealt with the unexpected cargo… differently.
It didn’t take Peter that long to notice the looks sent his way. “I could—”
“No,” Tony stated firmly.
“But Mr. Stark—”
“No buts, Peter. I said no.” Regular human, remember? he tried to say with his eyes.
“Kid, even if you wanted to, you won’t be able to get out of those,” Barnes rasped, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Those are some type of heavy duty zip ties. They have tensile strength of about 300 pounds. Nothing like the zip ties you might’ve seen.”
Yeesh, even if the baddies didn’t know about Peter’s powers, it felt like an overkill.
Tony could see the cogs turning in Peter’s head. He knew that look too well. “Kid, don’t,” Tony warned. Regular human, regular human—
Peter’s expression turned apologetic before turning into steely determination. He tensed his muscles, took a deep breath and snap. His arms were spread out, one plastic ring still wrapped tightly around his wrist, the other one dangling from his sleeve.
“Didn’t you say those things can hold 300 pounds?” Wilson whispered loudly to Barnes. “You had to lie, man. No way that bean string ripped something like that with no effort.”
“No, no,” the kid said as he tossed the ties to the ground, “I’d say these were only around 200 pounds in tensile strength.” He gave no one the time to ponder or ask questions further. He jogged to the door, followed by a chorus of panicked “no, no, no”s and “what are you doing”s, but instead of grabbing the handle and recklessly throwing himself into the hallway, Peter dropped to his knees and pressed his hands and ear against it.
“Son, what are you—”
“Shh!”
“Now hold on for a—”
“Shh!”
Wow. Tony never thought he would see Captain America being shushed by a highschooler. And that it would actually work.
Seconds passed until Peter squirmed and sheepishly turned to Clint. “Uh, Mr. Barton, your heart is beating kinda loud,” he addressed the man. “Can you maybe… do something about it?”
The archer looked at loss of words. “Wh- no! Because why do I have a feeling you’re about to something dangerous?”
Oh yeah, Peter was about the same age as one of Barton’s smaller agents if Tony remembered correctly. It was understandable the kid’s presence would pull at his dad strings.
“It’ll only be dangerous if I can’t hear properly.”
Clint’s mouth opened and closed several times, swallowing whatever retort was on his tongue. He exhaled loudly through his nose – letting everyone know he didn’t agree with anything – then quietly inhaled. Satisfied, Peter closed his eyes again and resumed his previous position.
It might’ve been only a minute of the soul-crushing silence, but to Tony it seemed like an eternity.
“All rooms and hallways near here are empty,” Peter said, finally breaking the silence. “I don’t hear any electronics, so it’s safe to assume there’s no surveillance.”
And there it was. That Peter’s trademark look screaming I’m about to do something you can’t talk me out of it.
“I’m going out.”
That statement alone was enough to elicit a wave of protests from the others.
“There’s a 50-50 chance you’ll get killed, don’t be stupid,” Natasha said
“50-50? Are you kidding me?” Peter exclaimed, and for a moment, Tony was thanking whatever deity currently in charge that the kid saw reason. It didn’t last. “Those are the best odds I’ve had in years!”
“Kid, you’ve done enough,” Sam said. “We can figure out something different.”
Peter huffed. “I can’t just go sit back down and wait. What do you think will happen when whoever took us appears and sees me unrestrained?”
He had a point. Heavens, Tony knew he had a point, but that didn’t make it any better. He clenched his jaw.
The door opened, and Tony wanted to smack his forehead. Vibranium cuffs or not, one should not simply leave the cell door unlocked.
“I’ll be right back,” Peter whispered.
“Wait!”
The kid stopped halfway through the door, looking at Tony expectantly. There really was no stopping him, huh?
Well, so much for regular human.
“Stay out of trouble, okay?” The rest of his former teammates’ head snapped towards him, disbelief and outrage visible clear as a day. “Don’t engage with anyone. Just… just try to find a key to these, yeah?” he said, lifting the cuffs a bit.
Some of the tension bled from Peter’s face. “Okay,” he said, and just like that, he was gone.
For the third time in a short span of Tony’s regained consciousness, the room was plunged into deathly silence. In his humble opinion, it was getting old.
At least he could enjoy some peace and let it work its magic on his head.
“What the hell, man?!” Clint cried out.
Or not.
“How can you be comfortable with sending him—"
“Stop!” Tony cut him off. “He was going to do it anyway. The least I could do was tell him to stay safe. Christ,” wincing, he pressed his hands into his eyes to battle the pressure behind them.
This wasn’t Tony’s first rodeo when it came to kidnappings, but it’s different this time around. He couldn’t defend himself, nor fight back. No box of scraps to aid him with escaping. And with Peter here – hurt, no doubt scared but still incredibly brave – it was worse.
Yinsen was an adult and he still didn’t make it. What chance did a kid—
No. Tony won’t let his imagination go there.
“He didn’t say anything about your heart,” Steve told Tony.
“Come again?”
“He asked Clint to do something about his heartbeat but yours was beating louder.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, the kid is causing me heart attacks on a regular basis, so I guess the sound of my heart wanting to give up on itself is like a background noise to him by now.”
“When did you even get yourself a kid anyway?” Barton asked.
“Ah, you see, after our little skirmish in Germany, I was taking a nice night stroll around a lake. The stars were shining brightly, the moonlight was shimmering on the surface… I found him in a nearby trashcan and he stuck to me since.”
Instead of laughs and ‘oh, you’re so hilarious Tony’, he was rewarded by unamused looks. And for what? It wasn’t like he was pulling everything out of his ass!
The lake incident happened after Germany, it was nighttime when he had a suit to fish Peter out of the water, though the trashcan was a whole separate incident that might or might not involve an alien substance that made them stick together for several hours.
Natasha stretched her legs in front of her. “Do you think he can make it?”
“You don’t know my kid at all, Romanov,” Tony frowned, tone indicating a firm finality.
Approximately ten minutes later the door opened again, revealing Tony’s panting mentee. A single glance at him betrayed that something was wrong. Peter’s eyes were blown wide, clutching something wrapped in a blanket to his chest. From Tony’s position, it looked like a baby.
Please, don’t let it be an actual baby.
In a heartbeat, Peter chucked the bundle to the side and ran towards his mentor. The bundle made a loud, metallic clang as it hit the ground.
Okay, not a baby. Phew.
“We have to leave. Now!” Peter said, kneeling in front of Tony, examining the cuffs. The lack of key in the kid’s hands didn’t escape him.
“Why? Did anyone see you?”
“No! No, but… uhh… well, I might have been forced to clock someone in the face and hide him in the closet—” oh dear lord “—but Mr. Stark, do you remember that one politician that was demanding to give your suit to the military shortly after you became Iron Man?”
Senator Stern. Your everyday corrupt politician. The man swearing at him on national television was one of Tony’s fondest memories of him, second only to seeing him being escorted by feds for collaborating with Hydra.
“Yeah?”
“Well,” the kid continued, not taking his eyes off the sleek metal, “currently, there are several people elbows-deep into one of your older suits. They stole everything on your Quinjet.” He tugged at the chains. “Vibranium, right?”
Shit. Them being here was bad enough, but their kidnappers taking apart everything that was on the plane made everything worse. If they figured out how the suit worked and learned how to replicate it… Tony couldn’t afford to let any more dangerous weapons appear on the black market.
Shaken, Tony nodded.
“Okay,” Peter said and got ahold the left cuff. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”
“Son, Tony told you those are vibranium,” Rogers said. “You might’ve gotten out of the zip ties but—"
The metal creaked, bending ever so slowly.
“What the shit?”
“Language!” everyone absent-mindedly said in union, too focused on the teen.
Peter adjusted his grip, hooking his fingers around the inside and kept pulling until there was enough space for Tony to pull out his hand. Peter smiled and made a quick work with the other cuff.
Tony looked between the bent metal lying on the floor and the kid kneeling next to it. “Do you practice bending one of the strongest materials on the planet in your free time?” he muttered.
“The warehouse… took… more effort… to lift…” Peter said between the pants.
“The what?”
“Nothing!”
“What do you mean nothing? Peter, what warehouse—"
The kid – pointedly ignoring him – stood up, looking around the room, biting his lip. He then spun on his heel, kneeled over the bundle and picked up a metal arm from it. Left arm…
Oh no.
To Tony’s horror, Peter was heading right towards Barnes. “Need a hand?”
The man in question was looking at the kid – his kid, Tony couldn’t lose him too – with a mix of shock and surprise and juts a smidge of dumbfoundedness.
“This is vibranium too, right?” A nod. “So you should be able to bend the cuffs with it too, right? Can it cancel out? Like when we fire nukes at nukes so there won’t be any nukes, yeah? No?”
“You ramble a lot under stress, don’t you?”
“…sorry.”
Tony wanted to scream, wanted to move, wanted to throw himself at Peter and drag him away before he could free the man that killed his parents, but he couldn’t. It felt like the discarded chain at his feet coiled around his whole body, pinning him to the ground. Frozen and unable to move like in that bunker. The walls around him shifted, and for a moment, he was back there, on his back, unable to move and with coldness seeping into his aching bones—
“There.”
Too late.
Tony blinked, and the Siberian bunker dissolved. Instead, there was Peter, holding out the arm to Barnes like he didn’t use to be one of the most dangerous people in the world. Though, there was something else. The way he didn’t look Peter right in the eyes, the way he sat hunched in on himself, slightly leaning backwards.
It was almost like he was shying away from the kid's touch.
Suddenly, Peter’s breath hitched, shoulders tense. He threw himself at the door, listening for something none of them could hear. “We have to hurry,” he said and went to free Barton with a renewed vigor.
Barnes circled his arm, something mechanic in his shoulder clicking, and began to work on Wilson’s restrains. It was taking him longer than Peter, but it was better than leaving all work to him.
Barton rubbed his now-freed wrists, looking in bewilderment at Peter, whose focus was now on Natasha. “Damn, Tony, what are you feeding him?”
“Pizza. Lots of pizza.”
“He lets me pick any topping I want!” the kid beamed, his smile tight under the strain.
“Yeah, and you choose to commit several violations against Geneva convention with some of those combinations.”
Once everyone was free, Peter spread the blanket out, revealing the rest of his haul. The Rogues huddled themselves around him curiously. It wasn’t much. Still, it was better than nothing. Several widow bites, Tony’s gauntlet watch, a stun gun, some electric baton he wasn’t sure was theirs and several throwing knives.
“I would’ve gotten more but there were people in the next room. I’m sorry.”
Tony put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Don’t apologize. You did as you were told.” Partially.
Everyone who could took their own gear, which was only Tony and Natasha. Wilson took the gun, Steve the baton, and Clint and Barnes shared the knives. Peter remained unarmed.
Tony couldn’t decide whether it was a blessing or curse he forbade the kid from taking his webshooters before they left. On one hand, he had nothing to defend himself with. On the other hand, his secret identity remained secret.
Well, more or less, since there were bound to be questions about his super hearing and the ability to bend a freaking vibranium.
Until then, Tony will protect the kid with his own body if necessary.
The two of them were in the front, with Peter leading the group and Natasha at Peter’s side to provide support should anyone get past Peter’s senses. The rest covered their backs.
“How many people did you hear?” she whispered.
“About fifteen, but there could be more. Six were in the room with Mr. Stark’s armor. The rest was scattered nearby.”
Fifteen confirmed baddies against six avengers, one ex assassin and an enhanced teenager. Not too bad odds, compared to New York or Sokovia. And if they managed to get to their stuff, Tony will like those odds even more.
Both the storage and the adjoined room were empty. “On a lunchbreak, huh?” Tony peeked in through a small window and nearly burst into tears. “Barbarians. Look what they did to my baby!”
Sam, now equipped with his wings, peeked in as well. “Don’t be such a drama queen – isn’t it supposed to be an old model? And besides, you can always fix it, no?”
“It’s about the principle!”
Peter wedged his way through into the other room. He sat behind the nearest computer, fingers immediately dancing across the keyboard without a pause.
Tony glanced at the monitor, trying to make sense of the string of letters and numbers being typed into the search engine. “What are you doing?”
“Making myself useful,” Peter replied. “I honestly never thought I would ever use that code.”
Code? What co—
Ooh.
After some reflection on all the mishaps and sticky situations, Tony had tailored a special emergency code for each person he held dear. He had them memorize it. They called him paranoid. Now look how handy it came. All the person needed was a device with internet access. Once the kid hit Enter, Friday would alert anyone available to come and help.
He couldn’t wait for the bragging rights he was about to get.
“Done!”
“Great job, kid,” Tony smiled softly and ruffled Peter’s hair.
“How long until the help arrives?” Cap asked.
“Depends on where we are. Friday can pinpoint our exact location almost immediately. She can’t exactly make people get here faster. As advanced she is, she doesn’t have the ability to teleport.”
“That would be cool, though,” Peter chimed.
“Yeah, I guess that would be pretty cool.” Huh. Would making that be possible? “I guess I know what we’re going to try when we get back home.”
“Okay, teleporting AI aside,” Clint jumped in, “do we wait for the rescue party here or do we sneak our way out?”
The question was answered by the other door being opened; a man dressed in all black (how original) walked in with a steaming mug in hand. He was out as fast as he appeared, dropping the mug in the process.
“Neither,” Natasha said as she loaded her pistol, a smirk on her face betraying her excitement for revenge. “We’re fighting our way out of here.”
Steve raised his shield in front of him. “Let’s go before the—”
The lights turned red, a shrill sound blaring all around them.
“—alarm sounds.”
Tony leaned close to Peter, whispering. “Stay close. Best not to draw more attention to yourself, okay?”
“’kay.”
Based on the lack of windows, the base was underground. So, up it was.
They managed to make it up a single flight of stairs before a small canister landed at their feet and everything fell into chaos. The canister exploded in an onslaught of light and noise rendering Tony’s progress regarding the concussion useless. Everything turned dark.
Tony came to someone patting his cheek and his ears ringing.
There was no sign of the Rogues. As his eyes were struggling to focus, all he saw was a black blur here, blue one there, and the sound of someone fighting over there.
The biggest blur hovering over him moved. “Come on, come on.” He was being pulled to his feet, his arm slung over narrow shoulders. “Let’s go, Mr. Stark! We can’t stay here.”
Tony’s legs wouldn’t budge. No matter how much he tried, they simply refused to support his own weight.
Useless.
He was useless.
“You’re not useless, Mr. Stark.”
“Watch your back! The rooms are all connected!” someone shouted a warning.
Peter looked into the room they were passing by to determine if any hidden danger lurked in there, missing the two that were barreling straight towards them. Despite it probably not being the greatest idea, Tony lifted the whining gauntlet and tried to aim. “Pete, watch out!”
Could he hit the goons without risking injuring anyone else?
A third figure sprinted out from one of the rooms, shoulder-length hair flying everywhere. Barnes headed right towards them. He slammed into the attackers with his full body, sending all three of them plummeting down the stairs.
“Get to safety!” he shouted.
Today’s been one hell of a twist after the other, Tony’s mind supplied. But he could ponder about it more after they made it back home, not down the hallway.
Another man holding some sort of weapon with thick cylinder turned the corner, immediately stopping once he spotted them. “You,” he hissed. If the dark spot on his chin was anything to go by, it was safe to make an educated guess about what drew the man’s hostility.
“In my defense,” the kid replied, “it was a defense. You guys attacked us first.” A tiny smirk played on his lips. “Besides, you kinda deserved it, Mr. Criminal.”
Mr. Criminal’s face contorted with rage before changing it into a sick satisfaction. “I’m gonna enjoy this.” He aimed his weapon, finger on the trigger.
Peter shifted on his feet, ready to pounce.
All of a sudden there’s Steve, striking like a snake with his shield at the weapon. The man reeled back as his arm was yanked to the side. The weapon went off followed by an explosion.
Ah. A grenade launcher.
Tony went over the weapon’s design. Based on the shape of the cylinder, it was able to hold six rounds. Now only five.
To the goon’s credit, he regained his bearings quickly, switching back to offensive. He fired two grenades in succession. Steve deflected both of them. Three grenades remained.
“Fine,” the man huffed, “time for plan B.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small injection, a vial filled with a pale orange liquid attached to it. He took the cap off with his teeth and promptly stabbed himself in the arm. A shudder ran over his body, his back arching. When the spasm passed, he fell back into a relaxed position, pupils blown wide and a predatory smile showing all his teeth.
Peter took in a shaky breath, his body moving in a way that reminded Tony of a frightened cat. Did his Peter-tingle go off?
“That’s more like it,” the goon growled. He took of running towards Steve, swinging. “Show me what you’ve got!”
The two of them were moving too fast for Tony to keep up. He chanced a glanced at the kid. His eyes were darting around; he kept track of every move. “Don’t worry, Pete,” Tony said. “Cap can handle it, trust me.”
Another grenade got launched, hitting the inside of Steve’s shield, leaving the man wide open. The kidnapper reached to the back of his belt, pulling out a knife.
Peter sprung to his feet. “No, he can’t!”
The knife was fast approaching towards Roger’s neck. He wouldn’t be able to dodge that. And by the looks of it, he realized it too.
That’s when Peter jumped in.
Literally.
The kid flipped over the man’s left shoulder, swinging his full weight at the right arm wielding the knife like it was a trapeze, flipping the left-wide-open scenario. However, it wasn’t enough to flip the scales. The goon spun around, smacking Peter into Steve’s shield, pressing the barrel of the launcher into the kid’s stomach.
There were still two rounds left.
Tony’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
In a blink of an eye, the telltale bang of an explosion filled the hallway, hiding the three of them behind a smoke screen. The place where they stood was occupied by dust and rubble raining down from the damaged ceiling. The grenade-launching maniac was picking himself up about six feet away from it. Steve was rolling down the hallway.
No sign of the shield or Peter.
The kid couldn’t just get… vaporized, could he? Certainly not. Not with the shield too. Then – where was he?
There was a metallic clang followed by a sound like someone got the wind knocked out of their body coming from the adjoined hallway. That had to be Peter, right? Steve had to throw him in there just before the man pulled the trigger.
Tony’s sigh of relief caught an unwanted attention.
The goon advanced towards Tony at a leisure pace. “I liked you all better when you were unconscious. But since we’re already here…” He twirled the knife in his hand, looking at Tony like he’s a prey. “Your turn, Stark.”
“Bite me,” Tony spat back and aimed. His double vision receded enough to give some of the billionaire’s confidence back to him.
He needed one lucky shot.
A cacophony of familiar footsteps was rapidly approaching. If worst came to worst, they could help out; but could he hold his own that long?
No. No lucky shot. That asshole hurt his kid. He was going down!
“Hey!”
The goon turned around, Tony looking past him. There stood Peter, Captain America’s shield in front of him.
“Look at me! I’m the captain now!”
Tony deadpanned.
“You’re annoying,” the goon grumbled. With no hesitation, he aimed the grenade launcher at the kid and fired.
To Tony, time seemed to slow down. Peter’s eyes briefly widened before he raised the shield up. A deafening bang followed, sending Peter soaring through the air backwards.
“Peter!” The scream ripped from Tony’s throat as his mentee’s body hit the ground, the clang of the shield as loud as the explosion to his ears. He wasn’t moving.
Peter wasn’t moving.
In blind rage, Tony aimed his gauntlet and fired four shots at the goon. Two hit him in the chest, the other two into the dark spot left behind by the kid. He hit the wall and crumpled to the floor like a sack of rotten potatoes. Tony paid him no mind as he stepped over his body, stumbling-rushing to his kid.
Peter was sprawled on his back, his grip on the shield limp, weakly smiling up at him. “Good thing… ugh… good thing the bad guys never aim for ze legz,” the chuckle broke into a cough, then a long groan. “Shit, that hurts. Totally worth it though. That was awesome.”
“Are you out of your mind?! You should be glad I won’t ground you until you’re twenty-five!”
Geez, this kid. Tony always felt full of energy when Peter was around, but it were times like these that actively took years off his life span.
Tony slumped down just as the others appeared, putting his palm on Peter’s knee. “Looks like making Friday into a teleporter will have to wait.”
“Yeah,” he winced. “Not a word about this to May?”
“If you promise to keep this to yourself too.”
“Deal.”