Titan's Lullaby
Peter kicked an orange rock and watched it bounce a couple times before coming to rest a few feet away.
He sighed from his place on the boulder and rested his chin on his hands. He was bored.
Mr. Stark had assigned him to be lookout, but it wasn't a very fun job when there was nothing but red, and orange, and some yellow thrown in just for pizzazz on the destitute alien planet.
From his perch, he could see most of the barren planet. Craggy rocks and boulders dotted the otherwise empty landscape. Peter knew that Earth was too big to see the curvature of the Earth from his current altitude, but with his enhanced vision, he could faintly see the slightest drop-off of the landscape in the distance. Titan must have been a lot smaller than Earth, in that case.
He glanced back to where the Guardians of the Galaxy—he had to smother a laugh at their name again—and Dr. Strange and Mr. Stark were all convened, hashing it out.
Go play look-out while the grown-ups have a talk, Mr. Stark had bit out, blazing eyes locked on Quill, who'd been staring straight back, looking distinctly unperturbed.
Peter knew Mr. Stark probably just didn't want him to see him lose it.
Peter also knew that Mr. Stark probably didn't need a lookout, but if this was how he was going to prove himself as an Avenger, he'd be the best dang lookout ever.
He scanned the empty horizon once again, sighing. He missed May. He knew she'd have no idea what had happened to him…and after Ben, he hated himself for putting her through that.
But, as Mr. Stark had just recently dubbed him, he was an Avenger. And apparently, the world needed saving.
He scanned the horizon once again.
A speck.
His head whipped back around. Nimbly, he lifted himself to a crouch, feeling the mask of the Iron Spider suit whir into being around his head, and felt his lenses automatically zoom in as he squinted.
A ship.
There was a small ship.
And it was moving reeeeeaaaaallllllly fast, right towards them.
"Mr. Stark!" He shouted, more or less flinging himself off the cliff and webbing himself down to the circle of heroes, feeling their eyes all snap to him. "Mr. Stark, there's—"
But he didn't have time to voice his findings before the ground at their feet was kicked up by dozens of bullets, peppering the ground around them.
"Cover!" Mr. Stark shouted, grabbing Peter's shoulder and hauling him behind a boulder as the nanotech suit slipped up around him. "Peter, down!"
But when did Peter ever listen?
Mr. Stark had flown from behind the boulder and was attacking the ship from every which way, while Dr. Strange hurled crystalline glass-like projectiles at it. One of the engines exploded.
Quill and the other guardians started shooting the thing with pew-pew guns that looked like they came straight out of one of Peter's comic books.
"Ha ha ha!" Drax yelled, the massive gun against his chest recoiling with each shot. "Take that, alien feces! Perish by my weapon!"
"Are we taking ass and kicking names now?" Mantis asked excitedly from where she was crouched behind a boulder, looking on with awe.
"Sort of," Quill yelled back, his anti-gravity boots propelling him forwards as he shot off another blast.
Peter was aiming one of his web-shooters towards the front glass, hoping to blind whoever was shooting, when something slammed into his shoulder and spun him around so fast he fell off the boulder.
He must have blacked out for a couple seconds, because when he came to, he was sprawled on the ground, Iron Man's voice shouting at him from far away.
"Kid! Underoos, you copy? Peter?"
"I'm here!" He shouted back, sitting up and feeling his shoulder, not feeling any of the pain that he'd expected. He chanced a glance, worried at what he'd find.
Nothing.
He checked again, feeling around, twisting to see the back of it, but there was nothing there.
He should be bleeding from a bullet wound that wasn't there. So was he crazy?
Or had the bullet not been real…
What had Strange told him about the stones?
There are six, he'd explained on the journey towards Titan, when none of them had really had anything to do but think and get to know each other. Mr. Stark had grudgingly accepted when Strange offered to explain the stones in more detail for him and Peter, who didn't know anything about them.
They each represent an important facet of the universe: mind, soul, power, reality, time, and space. I have the time stone, he'd said, doing an insanely cool little unlocking thingy with his hands to open his necklace, which revealed a glowing green gem. Thanos already had two stones that we know of—space and power. They're powerful alone, but the rest are even more so. Time can alter the timeline or create new ones, in whole or in part. He could send us all back in time while he collected the rest of the stones, and we wouldn't have any way to stop him. Soul is…well, no one really knows anything about the Soul Stone. The Mind Stone—
-is safe, Mr. Stark had cut in, annoyedly. It's with Vision. It helped—well, make him.
Dr. Strange rolled his eyes, but continued. The reality stone can alter your perception of everything around you, without you even knowing it. It's rumored that if you know better, though, you can snap yourself out of it.
And Peter, at the time, had thought that was the literal coolest thing he'd ever heard in his life.
Now, it may very well save his life.
"Stop shooting!" He shouted, scrambling back up to the boulder. "It's not real!"
"What the hell?" Mr. Stark said, blasting off more repulsor beams into the engines. "Did the fall give you a concussion? Cause it looks pretty real to me!"
"No, listen, it's the reality stone!" He yelled frantically. "There was never any bullets, because the ship's not real! Look, see?"
Peter pointed to his shoulder. Iron Man zoomed towards him and slammed to a stop in front of him, taking his shoulder quickly. "Holy shi—crap," he muttered. "Sorry, didn't mean to soil your virgin ears." Peter spluttered indignantly, but Mr. Stark ignored him. "Guys, he's right! It's a distraction! Good catch, Pete," he said quietly, clapping him on the shoulder.
Peter definitely didn't glow.
As soon as the others finally stopped shooting, despite Quill's wary glances, the ship melted away. The entire landscape shifted, a glowing crimson line sweeping across it and erasing every scrap of evidence that the ship had ever been there. When the line passed over them, Peter felt a small tingle in his shoulder, but nothing more.
Rumbling laughter echoed over the now-empty horizon. "Well done, child."
Peter stiffened, knowing he was the only kid on the planet. Mr. Stark's hand tightened on Peter's shoulder, tugging him closer, taking on a protective stance.
"That you, Dick-head?" Quill shouted to the open air, hefting his gun up. "Where the f—"
Mr. Stark clapped his hands over Peter's ears almost hard enough to hurt.
"—is Gamora, you asshole?"
Silence. Peter turned frantically, looking for the origin of the voice, when a giant, purple man bled into existence about twenty yards in front of them.
Peter had the ridiculous urge to start singing the Giant Purple People Eater song.
Every hero on the field tensed. Peter could feel it in his bones. Everyone was on edge.
The giant's face was—grief-stricken.
"My Gamora," he said sadly, almost to himself. "I had to give her up. I had to—for a better world."
Silence descended over the Guardians as Quill went absolutely rigid. His mask fell from his face, revealing his angry, livid, red features. "Tell me you're lying."
"Quill—" Mr. Stark said, trying to sound placating.
"You're lying!" Quill shouted, replacing his mask and charging forward, shooting like nobody's business.
Thanos, looking absolutely unimpressed, still in mourning, simply flicked a hand.
Quill went flying in the opposite direction. If Mr. Stark hadn't thrown himself to catch him, the impact would've splattered him against the next boulder.
They hadn't prepared for this. They hadn't—there hadn't been time to come up with a plan. He'd come so much faster than the adults had thought he would, and now he had, by Peter's count, four stones.
Peter was—Peter was scared.
"You," Thanos said, his eyes settling on Dr. Strange, who backed up a step and opened two small portals, features determined. "Give me the Time Stone."
"Unfortunately, that goes against my entire job description," Strange bit out.
"Besides, you've pissed some other people off, Cabbage-Patch," Mr. Stark bit out, not hesitating to fire a repulsor beam into his shoulder. He stumbled back, but snarled and quickly recovered. Mr. Stark barely missed the boulder aimed at his head.
"Cabbage is green," Peter shouted, sliding to the ground beside Doctor Strange.
"There's purple cabbage, too. God, I swear. Uncultured millennials."
"Mr. Stark, your age is showing," Peter grinned despite the situation.
"Oh, that's it," he griped, falling back as Thanos stumbled to one knee, enraged. "When we get home—"
He was cut off by Drax's war cry as he rushed the Titan armed with nothing but his fists. "This is for my wife and daughter, you—you—"
"Asswipe," Quill supplied helpfully, shooting from where Mantis was crouched, trying to concentrate on something.
"—you Asswipe!" Drax concluded, plowing into Thanos with a battle cry Hulk would be proud of.
Nothing worked. Dr. Strange's projectiles, the Guardians' guns, Mr. Stark's repulsor blasts—nothing worked. Thanos just flicked it all away as he slowly boxed Peter and the others in, like a cat playing with the mice surrounding it.
Peter managed to hit Thanos' eye with a spurt of webbing once, but he just growled and ripped it off before anyone could take advantage of it.
At some point, Mantis was thrown like a ragdoll, and Peter knew she'd break every bone in her body when she landed. He hurled himself at her, catching her in his arms and letting the Iron Spider legs come out and form a cage around them as they bounced and rolled. She was unconscious in his arms when they finally came to a stop, and he took a moment to get her safely tucked away behind a boulder before running back to the fight.
He stopped short, his breath hitching in his chest.
Quill and Drax were on the ground to Thanos' right, both of them unconscious and bleeding from head wounds. They didn't look like they'd be waking anytime soon. Their guns lay forgotten, and Thanos stalked right past them.
Dr. Strange was slumped against a boulder, bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow. He struggled to sit up, but ultimately fell back, the gold circles defending him flickering out as his body sagged. His velvet cloak around him slipped from his shoulders and spread itself in front of him like a shield.
Thanos stopped a few feet from him, chuckling. "The last line of defense, and you give me a piece of cloth."
Dr. Strange wheezed a laugh. Peter crept around to the backside of the Titan, unnoticed, waiting for an opening. He didn't know exactly what that entailed, but he figured he'd know it when he saw it.
"A piece of cloth…and an egotistical man in a scrap-metal suit."
Mr. Stark, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, launched himself at Thanos and landed a right hook hard enough to knock the Titan from his feet. He landed so hard the ground shook.
"Excuse you, Doctor Asshole," Tony griped.
Peter raced to Dr. Strange, helping him sit up, and the cloak wrapped itself back around him protectively.
"Peter, get the others out of here," he ground out as Peter helped him stand to lean against the boulder. "Tony and I will hold him off. Come back when they're safe."
"But I—" without waiting for Peter's reply, the man took off to the battlefield, where Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange tag teamed the monster with deadly accuracy. Peter stood and watched for a moment in nothing short of awe.
The way the two moved could only be attributed to years of practice. Mr. Stark seemed to almost predict Thanos' movements, and Dr. Strange was there to help with a portal, a glass projectile, or a snippy comment.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Quill stirring weakly, shaking Drax. "Drax?" He whispered.
Peter threw himself over to them, watching the fight from his peripheral. "Guys, I gotta get you out of here. They're going at it pretty hard."
"What?" Quill said groggily, his pupils blown wide. Peter winced at the obvious sign of a concussion.
"C'mon," he said, hauling Quill over his shoulders. "I'll come back for Drax."
He carted Quill off the battlefield as quickly as he could and jogged to where Mantis lay still, setting him beside her. He repeated the process with Drax, though the man was a lot heavier, and it took a bit longer.
"Stay here, ok?" Peter whispered, feeling his shoulders broaden a bit as he gave the quiet order, a bit of satisfaction leaking into his mind. He felt—well, needed. It felt good. "I'm going to help them."
He didn't wait for an answer as he sprinted back to the expansive wasteland. He swung around the boulder just in time to see Thanos throw Dr. Strange into a boulder.
He dropped like a stone and lay still.
Mr. Stark wasn't faring well either. Peter guessed he'd caught them in the middle of the climax, but he wasn't about to sit and watch. He ran towards them, unnoticed by either of them.
His stomach churned as Mr. Stark's nanotech elongated his armor into a sword. Mr. Stark, his armor damaged and hanging off of him in tatters, his mask gone, exposing his bloody, desperate face, shoved it towards Thanos.
Peter could only watch as Thanos caught his other arm and ripped the sword from the armor.
Peter knew what came next.
"No!" He shouted, aiming as quickly as he could and shooting a strand of webbing to attach to the sword in Thanos' grip just as it plunged for Mr. Stark's abdomen.
Peter used his natural ability to stick and planted his feet, solidified his grip on the webbing, and heaved.
The tip of the blade clinked against the armor, but didn't pierce it.
Thanos whipped around, tossing Mr. Stark's body away like a ragdoll. Peter's arms were shaking, his entire body straining. He grunted against the force, but kept pulling, keeping the dagger away from his mentor with everything in him.
Thanos was having trouble as well. His arm shook against the strain, and this bolstered Peter, giving him a bit of confidence. With what little strength he had to spare, Peter pulled.
The sword clattered out of Thanos' hand and onto the dirt.
The Titan and Peter stood, panting, staring at each other over the distance. Peter knew that none of the others were in any condition to fight, and Thanos was no closer to being taken down.
Peter swallowed.
Exhaled.
He could do this.
Thanos looked at him, his expression neutral. "You're nothing but a child."
Peter bristled. "I wouldn't be here if I was just a kid."
"Well," he said, standing squarely, and wow, did he seem even bigger now? "You're not a man yet."
"Okay, well, we can't all be nine feet tall," Peter grumbled, feeling annoyance mingle with his fear. He slipped into the fighting stance Mr. Stark had trained him on and cast a glance to his mentor's motionless body.
For him. Peter had to be strong. For Mr. Stark, and Ned, and MJ, and May.
Thanos almost smiled. "You remind me of my Gamora. She was always mouthing off."
Peter felt his spine tingle at the comparison. He didn't want to be compared to the dead woman.
"You remind me of this giant purple monster I had to fight that one time," he shot back, not quite knowing what the hell he was trying to do. He just knew that until one of them attacked, or until someone who actually knew how to defeat him showed up or woke up, he had to…buy time, or distract him.
Thanos turned his head away. "I'm not a monster." He said quietly, almost sadly. "Just someone with a strong enough will to see even the hardest decisions through."
"It's not a hard decision," Peter shouted, feeling his anger get the best of him. "Killing half the population isn't a solution. It'll never be a solution. If you really wanted to fix the world, you'd do the hard work. You go planet by planet exterminating and eradicating, instead of looking at each world and figuring out a better way. You're just lazy."
Thanos' jaw ticked. "It's a simple calculus—"
"No, see, I took AP Calculus," Peter yelled, his throat aching from the force of his anger. "And among all the word problems I suffered through, this was never one of them."
Finally Thanos had enough. With an angry yell, he lashed out, closing his fist and punching the air in front of Peter, who narrowly dodged the surge of energy.
Something red and long flew past him, wrapping itself around the Gauntlet and pulling taut. Thanos stumbled, growling and tugging at Dr. Strange's cape, but the thing was glued on there, keeping him from closing his hand.
Peter surged forward, landing a spinning kick across Thanos' jaw. As he stumbled, Peter followed with a jab to his abdomen and an elbow to his temple, grabbing the muscled arm and using it as a levy to swing around the kick the back of Thanos' knee as hard as he possibly could. He roared in agony and stumbled to his knees, grabbing blindly with his untied hand.
Peter tried to dodge away, but he wasn't quite fast enough. Thanos' huge hand completely encircled his bicep, his fingers overlapping, and threw him against the nearest rock wall. Peter felt himself smash against the rocks, dazedly grunting when he made contact with the unforgiving ground. His head swam, but the Iron Spider suit had mostly protected him.
He glanced at his arm where Thanos had grabbed him to see the armor torn and sparking. He clumsily ripped it off, feeling his mask fall away as the cracks from his collision with the wall spread. He tore the mask off as well, blinking his heavy eyes to see Thanos still struggling with the cape.
Dr. Strange and Mr. Stark were still unconscious.
Peter pushed himself to his feet, leaning against the wall for a moment to steady his breathing, before stumbling back towards the Mad Titan.
Thanos looked at him again, the frustration evident on his features. "Stay down, boy. I only want the Time stone, and then you can take your chances up with fate."
Peter shook his head, though the motion made him sway. "Not happening. I'm an Avenger now. I'll stop you."
Thanos chuckled, but he hadn't risen. Peter eyed the knee he'd kicked to see blood leaking from a tear in the skin, purple and oozing. Peter must have torn a ligament.
Good, he though dazedly. Gives me an advantage.
"You blindly follow those people you call your heroes?" He asked, jerking his chin towards Mr. Stark, his crumpled form moving slightly with each breath. "I know all about him, young one. If you knew the things he'd done, you wouldn't be so quick to follow."
Peter laughed. Thanos looked surprised at the reaction, continuing to jerk against the cape's hold. Peter responded, "Nobody's perfect. I know some of what Mr. Stark has done. I've screwed up, too. Everybody screws up. But we did our best to fix it, and now we try to help other people to make up for it." Peter's eyes narrowed, and he did his best to appear intimidating. "You can stop, Thanos. You don't have to do this. I don't—I don't know why you're doing this, but…if it's for a better world, you're going to be really, really disappointed."
Thanos' shoulders fell slightly. Just slightly. Peter continued.
"You lost someone." The Mad Titan flinched. "You called her Gamora?"
"My daughter," he sighed, his eyes clouding with pain. His struggles against the cape lessened slightly.
"Gamora," Peter said quietly. He took a couple wobbling steps forward and stooped a bit to look the kneeling giant in the eye. He maintained a safe distance from him, careful to stay out of reach, and kept going. "How you feel now? Do you want everybody to feel like that?"
Thanos didn't answer.
"That's how everybody's gonna feel," he said quietly. His body swayed, but he grit his teeth and kept standing, paying no mind to the blood that trickled through his hair and down the back of his neck. "Everyone's going to lose someone. Everyone's going to feel the kind of pain you're experiencing. And if you think it'll—it'll be some kind of generational thing, and they'll all grow out of it, you're wrong. Kids will grow up without parents, and they'll mistreat their kids. Their kids will continue the cycle and soon you'll have a world of nothing but hatred and chaos and carnage."
Peter knelt on the hard ground, unable to keep standing, but he continued. His voice shook. "You think you'll be saving the world, giving the kids with nothing something to hold on to, but…you'll be destroying them. I'd rather never eat again than lose my family." Thanos flinched.
"Why?" He asked, his rumbling voice thick with emotion.
Peter blinked, unable to comprehend the question. "What do you mean why? If it meant saving my friends, or my family, of course I'd trade food."
"You'd die," he seethed, resuming his struggles. "You'd die starving."
"I'd die loved," Peter responded confidently. "Did you never have a family?"
"They died," he bit out. "I couldn't save them. They starved to death when the food ran out, and now my planet looks like this." He swept his hand out around the empty landscape.
"I'm sorry," Peter sighed, steadying himself with his hand on the ground beside him, "but not every world is like yours."
"Enough!" He bellowed, leaving the cape curled around his hand and clenching his other hand into a fist. Peter stumbled to his feet, but he wasn't fast enough. Thanos' hand closed around his throat and lifted him off the ground.
Thanos was still unable to rise with his torn knee, but he was already much larger than Peter. Peter's feet barely scuffed the ground. His hands tore at Thanos' fingers, but nothing would budge. He felt his face reddening and contorting as Thanos crushed his throat, his hand fisting tighter and tighter.
"I killed the god like this," Thanos muttered, but Peter could barely hear him over the blood pounding in his ears. "I wanted you to have a better chance. You're young."
Thanos' eyes fell to something a few feet away, and Peter's bloodshot eyes followed his.
Mr. Stark's sword.
Peter started struggling in earnest.
Thanos reached for it, but the cape yanked his hand back, causing Thanos to wince at the force. Thanos growled low in his throat, turning his eyes back to Peter's once again.
"You're young," he repeated, seeming almost saddened. Peter bucked against the hand, pried at the thick fingers, but nothing more got past his throat than a thin wheeze. "You're idealistic. You're…good." Thanos shook his head. "But I killed my daughter for my cause, and I can't stop now. I won't spare even you, child."
And he squeezed.
Peter's ravaged throat let loose a cry of its own, but it was stifled by the hand around his windpipe. The blood trapped in his head refused to flow, and he felt his eyes swelling, his face darkening, his eyes rolling back. He felt his hands weakening, and his legs gradually stop kicking.
"Please," he tried to say, but all he could do was get his mouth around the word.
Thanos looked away.
Darkness encroached on the corners of Peter's vision.
I'm sorry, he thought helplessly, feeling his fingers loosen against Thanos' hand. May, MJ, Ned, Mr. Stark…everyone…I'm so sorry I couldn't save you.
He felt his hands fall to his sides.
And then—
"Get your f***ing hands off of him!"
Something slammed into Thanos with all the force of a freight train, knocking the Mad Titan off of his knees and onto the ground. Peter slipped from Thanos' fingers and collapsed right there, completely limp as his lungs spasmed, automatically sucking in as much air as his mutilated throat could take.
Peter's back arched off the ground as he coughed violently, unable to even rub his aching throat as tears leaked from his eyes and muddied the dusty ground. He lay there, completely helpless, and simply breathed.
The sounds of fighting reached his ears, but he couldn't even turn his head to watch. He heard Mr. Stark's voice, thick with emotion and anger, and Thanos' cry of pain.
Hands were suddenly under his shoulders, dragging him away from the fight. "I've got you," Dr. Strange's voice whispered. His hands shook under Peter's weight, so Peter's slow mind surmised that he was far from recovered.
Peter was gently deposited on the dusty ground, and Dr. Strange shook his shoulder softly. Peter winced in pain, still unwilling and honestly unable to open his eyes. He was content to just lie there and breathe.
"I'm sorry," Dr. Strange said. "I'm going to help Tony. Just—sit tight, alright? You did really well."
Dr. Strange's presence disappeared from his side, and Peter didn't find it very important to stay awake anymore. He drifted off to the dull sounds of clanging metal and pain-filled cries, and to the gentle whisper of wind, swirling the dust around his lifeless body.
…
His head was pressed against a firm chest, rumbling beneath his ear.
"—uch longer until we reach Earth?" A familiar voice said, the firm chest rumbling in time with the words. There were arms around Peter's sore body, and Peter relished the comfort.
"A few hours," someone replied. The voice sounded familiar. "You guys were out for a while. Drax and Mantis need to be checked out, too, so do you mind if we do that really quickly and then skedaddle?"
"Yeah, sure," the chest rumbled again. A beat of silence, and then, "Are you going to get your friend back?"
"You bet your ass we are," the new voice sounded almost offended. "We're gonna trade the Soul Stone for her. And if that doesn't work, I'll drag Thanos back to the living and kill him again."
Silence again. Shuffling footsteps.
Peter shifted.
"Strange? Can you check him?" The chest rumbled again, and Peter recognized the voice as Mr. Stark's. He was too tired to be embarrassed that his mentor was holding him. He just let himself be held, wondering what had happened after he'd slipped away, but too comfortable to ask.
Gentle fingers prodded his throat. He hadn't been expecting it, and the pain was blinding. Whimpering, he turned his head away, but the pull on his neck was too much.
"Peter?" Mr. Stark said quickly, palming the back of Peter's head lightly. Peter felt a bandage over where he'd cut himself there, dull pain flaring. "You awake, Underoos?"
He tried to make a sound, but even just a whisper was agony. He settled for letting his eyes blink slowly open, sticky and heavy.
Mr. Stark's blurry face looked down on his, relief spreading through his features. "There you are. Had me worried, kiddo."
Peter could only blink. Unwilling to move his head, he rolled his eyes to the side. Dr. Strange sat next to them, his cuts bandaged, his cloak around his shoulders. Upon seeing him awake, Dr. Strange smiled. "Hey, there."
The cloak slipped from around Dr. Strange's shoulders and settled over Peter like a blanket, warm and soft. Mr. Stark shifted Peter in his arms to wrap him in the cloak fully. Peter sighed, melting further into the warmth.
"Hey, no, don't go back to sleep just yet," Mr. Stark said quietly. "The Good Doctor here has a couple questions for you."
Peter's eyes flicked open and back to Dr. Strange. "Do you mind if I examine your neck?" He asked gently. Peter blinked and smiled a bit, his way of giving the go-ahead.
Dr. Strange's fingers gently prodded at his neck, turning his head slightly. Peter inhaled sharply and shut his eyes tight.
"Sorry," Dr. Strange said. "It's looking a lot better, especially without any real treatment, but I'd like to get him some oxygen and run some tests as soon as we're back at your facility."
"Done," Mr. Stark said as Peter exhaled softly.
"Peter? Does anything else hurt?"
Peter's eyebrows furrowed a bit. His head was pounding, but he figured that was the laceration. His back was sore. Shimmying his hand out from underneath the cloak, he pointed to his head and his back, twisting his arm a bit.
Dr. Strange nodded, checking the bandage on the back of his head. "You cracked your head pretty good, but I think you've mostly slept off the concussion. Your back is pretty bruised up, but nothing permanent. Your neck is…well, it's pretty banged up, but you're gonna be fine."
Peter gave a small smile and relaxed into Mr. Stark again, listening to his mentor's chest rumble as he chuckled slightly, tightening his arms around Peter.
As Peter drifted off again, Mr. Stark put his lips down by Peter's ear and whispered, "You saved me, kid. You saved my life, you saved…hell, you saved the whole world." Hesitantly, gently, he pressed his lips to Peter's scalp. "I'm so proud of you."
Peter buried himself further into the man's arms, smiling as he fell to sleep again.
…
"—been asleep for a little while, but he'll be okay," a voice said. Peter recognized it. Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark's voice meant safety.
He felt soft sheets ensconcing his body, though he missed the warmth of the sentient cloak and the arms he'd grown used to having around him.
"So, this kid went toe to toe with Thanos, hm?" A new voice said. Deep and authoritative. It sounded familiar, but Peter couldn't quite place it.
"Yeah," Mr. Stark breathed, and a hand settled on Peter's head, a thumb tenderly brushing his bangs away from his forehead. "Scared the shit out of me. I woke up and saw him—"
Mr. Stark cut off abruptly, but his soothing ministrations continued. "I was so scared."
Peter shifted his head slightly, leaning into Mr. Stark's hand. The hand stilled. "Peter? You awake, bud?"
Peter slowly blinked his eyes open, shutting them again against the harsh lights.
"FRIDAY, lights at twenty percent."
The lights dimmed and he opened his eyes again, taking in his mentor's worried face hovering above him. Peter felt something plastic obscuring his face and clumsily reached for it, but Mr. Stark's hand closed over his own, pushing it gently down. "Leave that there; it's helping you breathe."
Peter blinked up at him again, slow and confused. He flicked his eyes around the room and they came to rest on a hulking figure standing at the foot of the bed, smiling.
"Hey, kid," Captain America said, smiling gently. "Heard you held Thanos off for us."
Peter blinked owlishly, looking at Mr. Stark with nothing short of reverence. Mr. Stark chuckled, threading his fingers through Peter's hair. "Did I mention he's a bit of a fan?"
The Captain blushed faintly, but stood tall and laughed quietly. "I'm the one who should be your fan, Peter. You saved the world."
Peter blinked again.
He opened his mouth to say thank you, or can I have your autograph, or something similar, but immediately broke into a coughing fit, his neck aching fiercely with each cough.
"Dammit," Mr. Stark swore. "Steve, can you get—Bruce, or somebody, just—easy, kid, easy," he said frantically, rubbing Peter's back. Tears leaked from Peter's eyes as his throat burned, and he collapsed back against the mattress.
"I've got you," Mr. Stark said gently, keeping himself within Peter's line of sight. He reached over to grab a cup from the counter, holding up a spoon of ice chips. "Think you can take some of this?"
Peter nodded as quickly as his sore throat would allow. Water sounded amazing.
After the fourth spoonful of ice chips, Peter felt somewhat human again. Captain America came back in, followed by Bruce Banner and Dr. Strange. Dr. Strange was in civilian clothing, just a sweater and some jeans, but wearing his cloak on top of all of that looked ridiculous.
He caught Peter's dubious look and chuckled. "I know, not exactly a fashion statement, but this guy wanted to see you."
The cloak settled over Peter once again, wrapping around his front snugly as if in a hug. Dr. Banner and Captain America watched, confused and a bit shocked, but Peter melted into the embrace.
"Bruce," Mr. Stark said, and Dr. Banner shuffled over to Peter's side, smiling down at him.
"Hey, Peter. My name's Dr. Banner."
Peter could only nod, eyes wide.
"Kid, you're ridiculous," Mr. Stark chided fondly, sweeping a hand over Peter's curls again. "Bruce, he's…well, a fanatic." Peter shot the man a dirty glance, but not with any real heat. Mr. Stark laughed quietly. "He reads your papers for fun."
Dr. Banner seemed surprised, but took it in stride, laughing. "Well, I'm glad you appreciate science, Peter. Maybe we can talk about it some when you're better." Peter couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around how awesome that was before they were moving on. "How's the throat?"
Peter opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. Finally, prompted by Mr. Stark's reassuring smile, he squeaked, "Okay."
"Yikes," Dr. Strange said, voicing what everyone was thinking. "Vocal rest for a few days, kid. No operas."
"I'm inclined to agree," Dr. Banner said, shrugging apologetically. "But you're healing remarkably well. Do you feel weak, and sleepy?" Peter nodded. "You were without real food a water for a long while because you couldn't swallow, but in a day or so we'll start with some light foods. You should be back to your old self in no time."
Peter smiled. Then his brow furrowed. He had so many questions, but how was he supposed to ask them if he couldn't talk?
He mimed writing on a piece of paper, trying to let them know how he wanted to communicate. Mr. Stark got it first, grabbing a clipboard and a few loose sheets of chart paper and a pen. "Here," he said, situating Peter so that it was easier to write.
May?
Mr. Stark smiled. "On her way. We…wanted to wait until you looked a little better before we told her anything."
Peter nodded, looking down. He wouldn't have wanted her to see him like this.
Thanks.
Guardians?
"They're alright," Mr. Stark said, grinning fondly. "They had two more members, apparently, who were on Earth. They picked them up, got everybody treated and healed a little, and then went to get Gamora back." Peter perked up, eyes widening. "Yeah, kid, they got her back. She's alive and well."
Peter grinned. That was good. He didn't know her, but he was glad that she was okay.
His thoughts dimmed some when he thought of Thanos' grief.
Thanos?
Everyone in the room stilled solemnly.
"He's dead, Peter." Mr. Stark said slowly. "Strange and I killed him. You don't have to worry about him anymore."
Peter didn't move for a second. He nodded his head slowly, mindful of his neck, and brushed at a tear subtlety, not quite willing to cry in front of his heroes.
He wasn't okay.
Mr. Stark read the message and adopted a look of confusion, looking back at Peter with something like worry. "What do you mean?"
Peter began scribbling furiously, not quite able to get all his thoughts straight from the jumbled mess of emotions in his head. Finally, after much crossing out and rethinking, he presented Mr. Stark with what felt like his dissertation.
He wasn't okay. He was…I don't wanna say crazy, but close. He was so sure what he was doing was right. I talked to him some, while you guys were unconscious…I knew I couldn't fight him for long, so I just tried to talk him down while Dr. Strange's cloak kept him from using the Gauntlet. He was so upset about Gamora, and so desperate. For a minute, I thought I was getting through to him. When he was…choking me, he was almost sad. He didn't want to. He was really messed up, Mr. Stark.
Mr. Stark read the words, Captain America leaning over his shoulder, his lips pressed into a grim line.
Mr. Stark put the clipboard down and sighed, rubbing his eyes. Peter gripped the bedsheets in apprehension, but the last thing he expected was for Mr. Stark to reach over and pull him into a hug.
Hesitantly, he hugged the older man back, clutching onto the back of his shirt and relishing the comfort.
"No, Pete, he wasn't okay." He conceded gently, rubbing Peter's back. "He wasn't, and that's why we had to stop him. He couldn't even see that what he was doing was wrong."
Peter pressed his face into his mentor's shoulder and cried silently, his shoulders shaking. He didn't even know why. Maybe it was for Thanos. Maybe for his daughter, Gamora. Maybe it was for the world.
"I know," Mr. Stark shushed, holding him close as the others filed out of the room. "I know, Peter. It's not fair. I know."
Peter cried for a long time. He thought maybe it was because his emotions had done an entire flip, going from being terrified of dying to being completely safe in what he perceived as a relatively short amount of time. But he knew better.
It was for the one he couldn't save. The one twisted beyond saving.
Peter thought that may have been almost worse.
"We can't save everyone," Mr. Stark whispered, holding him tightly, leaving no room for negotiation. "Thanos was too far gone. You couldn't have saved him. No one could've."
And Peter knew he was right. He knew, but he was still upset for the broken Titan who'd died trying to fix the world the wrong way.
"You were so brave, Peter, and you did so well," Mr. Stark whispered, holding the back of Peter's head, his voice gruff with emotion. "I'm so, so proud of you, kid. You saved the world. I know, I know we couldn't save him from himself, but you saved the world."
Peter continued to sob, acceptance and relief washing over him. Relief that his family and his friends were safe from the Mad Titan's insanity, acceptance that Mr. Stark's words were true.
Mr. Stark held him firmly and securely, never loosening his hold, not even when Peter fell asleep.
That night, Peter dreamed of Thanos on Titan, watching two young girls laugh as they chased each other through the dense green fields, a stunning lake shimmering nearby. Thanos, and Peter, who watched, looked towards the horizon as one.
Thanos smiled as he watched the sun rise.
A/N: That took on a life of its own…but I'm happy with it!
I don't know why I wrote this. Just, Infinity War hurt me, so I fixed it. I hope you enjoyed this! Please feel free to message me with prompts. Idk, I may turn this into a mini-series; I'm not sure yet. Feel free to let me know if you have any ideas on how to continue it :) if you feel so inclined, I'd loved it if you followed, favorited, or dropped a review (especially this one!) just to let me know what you thought.
Thanks so much for reading! If you're bored, check out my other stories!