Pain alighted every nerve, sent every cell in his body into overdrive, overcrowding his brain until it, too, threatened to shut down. But he couldn't let it, not when he had so much left to say, so much left to atone for. "Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, please. . ."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them, before he could clamp his mouth shut on the pleading words that made him sound so small, so insignificant.
But when those calloused hands held him close and tried so desperately to keep his disintegrating form together, Peter Parker knew that there was at least one man left alive that would remember him. He'd remember the kid who fantasized about meeting his idol and drooled in the presence of a man everyone seemed to hate. He'd remember the overexcited rambling of a young teenager that longed to spend as much time with the famed billionaire that he could, not because of his money or his fame, but because – because Tony Stark. He'd remember Spiderman and all the good things that he'd done, but he'd remember the kid behind the mask and the responsibility he felt for helping the little guy because he had the power to do so.
Tony Stark would remember Peter Parker, and for a kid from Queens, that meant everything.
His last thought was of May, his agonized apology one for the only person in his life that hadn't left him, and he'd just done the same thing to her that his Uncle Ben had – he'd up and died on her. He'd tried so hard to come home to her, too, but it seemed the giant purple alien guy had other things to say about that. His stuttered, "I'm sorry," was his last conscious thought before he, too, blew away in the wind.
Until everything coalesced into a burning inferno of heat and agony that drew his every atom back together again. His very body built from nothing, ashes and memories one minute and exploding with life the next. Every sense went crazy, his eyes burned as the air deigned to touch their sensitive surface, the very skin on his bones ablaze with the torture that was the light breeze in New York on any other warm day. The cries of people shattered his ear drums and the scent of motor oil, cigarettes, and garbage permeated his every inhale until he could taste the debris in his mouth that made the acid in his stomach threaten to make itself known. Everything was too much, it was all too much-
"Peter!"
And there it was. He knew that voice, knew it like he knew his own heartbeat. But wait . . . that heartbeat wasn't his. His was roaring in his ears, loud as the car horns and shouts all around him, but this one was fast and excited, the tone of voice breathless but exhilarated.
Tony.
Peter's eyes immediately found the man as the billionaire appeared in front of him as if out of thin air. And considering the floating portal behind him, Doctor Strange had also made an appearance. But Peter didn't care about him, he cared about the warm brown eyes trained on him and the happy crinkles on the face that didn't show true happiness that often. But if the wide smile and gleaming eyes were any indication, Tony Stark was nothing if not happy at that moment.
"Mr. Stark," Peter breathed, his voice hoarse and pained as he staggered closer to his mentor, who immediately wrapped his arms around the flailing teenager.
"I got you, kid," he whispered, dragging Peter backwards until they both stepped back into the portal from which the billionaire had first appeared, and the world was blessedly silent.
"Overloaded?" Tony mumbled, his voice pitched low enough it didn't send spikes of pain through Peter's head. His calloused hands cupped the pale face, taking in the kid from head to toe before meeting his squinted, confused eyes. The light nod he got in response was enough to warn Tony off further questioning.
"May I be of any further assistance?"
The normally spoken question caused the kid in Tony's grasp to inhale sharply and squeeze his eyes shut, crumpling forwards to bury his head against Tony' shirtfront, one hand fisting a handful of the soft material, the other going over the mechanic's hand on his ear. One of Tony's arms went around the flagging kid's back to steady him against his own frame, the other keeping Peter's head close to Tony's chest.
The scathing look sent Doctor Strange's way was enough to make the wizard raise his hands in supplication and look apologetically at the trembling form in Tony's embrace before he made his exit, leaving the overwhelmed teenager to Tony's gentle care.
"Alright," Tony said in that same, low voice, knowing the vibrations of his chest along with his heartbeat generally helped the kid find an anchor in a world that sent too much at him at one time. Having something to concentrate on helped the world seem just a bit smaller. "We're going to the soundproof room, okay, just follow my lead and I'll get us there. Just listen to my heartbeat, Pete, and we'll be there before you know it."
Peter gave no outward indication of his understanding, but he allowed Tony to maneuver them into a room down the hall Tony had built for exactly that purpose. Lord only knew the kid had enough to deal with, overloaded senses was just one more thing on a long list of issues that Peter suffer through and Tony figured he'd need a safe place to unwind when it happened. It had been a while since the last overload, and Tony had been grateful the room hadn't seen much use, but he supposed coming back from The Snap, being nothing but ash and coming back to New York City, even on a good day, was way too much for a superpowered teen to handle.
Tony figured there was no rhyme or reason to where people reappeared, seeing as they'd been on Titan when Peter, Strange, and the Guardians had disappeared, and Strange had reappeared in the Tony's penthouse, Peter in the middle of Times Square in New York, so who knows where the others had ended up. And to be honest, he didn't much care. His reason for breathing was back in his arms, and no matter the problem, he was absolutely ready to handle it, from overloaded senses to panic attacks and everything in between. Tony had been preparing for this moment for months, now, and there wasn't a contingency he hadn't been prepared for. He'd just hoped it wasn't this one.
But, beggars can't be choosers, so Tony kept his silence as the door closed behind him and he felt Peter relax more fully against him. The room was eerily silent, soundproofing keeping all noises but the ones they made from penetrating the walls. The room wasn't overly spacious, but he'd furnished it with a bed and a nightstand, the Spiderkid's AI, Karen, seeing as they'd become so close, and a few other odds and ends that Peter had supplied: an old sweatshirt of Tony's that Tony had conveniently misplaced and never seen again, a few items that probably smelled of Ben and May, and a leather knapsack that Tony had never asked about, thinking if the kid wanted him to know about its origin he would tell him. But Tony had his ideas, all of them pointing to Peter's deceased parents.
They were all comfort items, meant to ground Peter when his whole world was attacking him, but Tony had found out that a single, rhythmic noise oftentimes helped Peter concentrate on one thing until his senses got with the program and stopped trying to melt his brain. Peter had admitted once that he found himself listening to Tony's heartbeat when his senses first started acting up and that was usually enough of a grounding mechanism to stave off the oncoming attack. Tony had been unprepared for the onslaught of emotion that revelation brought with it, but the kid had tactfully smiled and burrowed further into his side to finish the movie they'd been in the middle of watching when the kid had decided to blurt out that little tidbit of information. From then on Tony had always been sure to be around, and to make sure Peter knew it was okay to seek him out, when the superkid's overstimulated senses started wigging out on him.
Tony drew the teenager closer and gently lifted him, allowing the narrow legs to wrap around his waist as the billionaire took a seat on the bed, leaning comfortably against the wall with the kid's head pillowed directly above his heart. Within minutes Peter's body was completely lax against his, a slurred, "Thank you," the only vocalization of relief he got before Peter's breaths tapered out into an exhausted slumber.
"You got it, kiddo," Tony mumbled in response, content to be Peter's pillow for the rest of his life if he just got to see the kid keep breathing, something he'd been deprived of for months. Tony closed his eyes and allowed his kid's warmth to lull him into a light slumber, a small smirk on his face as Peter nuzzled his head further into Tony's embrace. Yeah, he'd been through hell to get the teenager back, but Tony would do it a thousand times over for Peter Parker, the kid who'd seen the chink in Tony Stark's armor and wormed his way into the billionaire's fragile heart. Thanos may have taken half the universe, but the day he'd snapped his fingers, he'd taken away the entirety of Tony's. And now, who was plum sauce scraped on the bottom of a shoe and who was holding everything he held dear? Tony shook his head at his errant thoughts, "Damn kid, went and made everything so damn complicated . . ."