Hearing was the first sense that came back.

Soft beeping noises mixed with a very strange, lengthy sound which he was sure he'd never heard before in his entire life.

Peter tried to concentrate on it. Where did it come from? It was everywhere, it seemed. Or was it just in his head? God, thinking was exhausting. Why must he have thoughts? Useless. He didn't need thoughts. Having thoughts was overrated, he decided.

Peter felt like he was floating, his mind lost in the vast darkness surrounding him. This was nice. He felt very light. Like little dots of dust that are visible in a room lit by sunlight. A good feeling. Why couldn't he always feel like that?

Wait. The strange sound was back. It went on for a few seconds before it stopped abruptly, only to be heard again after a couple of seconds. Every time it stopped Peter hoped that it would stop forever, but every time he was disappointed. Sound. No sound. Sound. No sound. He tried to count the seconds between the sounds but soon lost track. He needed to concentrate. But on what exactly? Yes, right. The sound. Why was there this strange sound?

Peter wanted to laugh, but all that came out was something that resembled a sigh. Wait? Was that him breathing? Why did his breathing sound like he was a hoarse dragon? That was not a good thing? Or was it? Dragons were kind of cool. The dragons in Game of Thrones absolutely were. And Peter liked the Dragon in The Hobbit, but he was too tired to remember its name. Which was not a good sign either. Normally, he did not forget the names of the dragons he liked.

No, his breathing sounding like that was not a good thing, Peter decided the next moment. He couldn't quite remember what his breathing normally sounded like.

"No, you are not a dragon. Although I do agree with you. Dragons are way cooler than your average spider."

What.

Wait. This was an insult. He should feel insulted, right?

"And dragons can fly", the voice went on. "Unlike you."

Again. Insult. How do you react to insults again? Peter was not quite sure about that, but it did not really matter, because if he wanted to react to something he had to actually do something and that meant that he would have to come out of this wonderful, wonderful darkness. Also, he thought, the voice would disappear when he ignored it long enough. That was a good plan. Peter emptied his mind again, longing for the sweet numbness he'd felt before when he was alone in the darkness and not accompanied by a voice. A voice which wanted to tell him he couldn't be a dragon, despite his desire to be one. He was sure that he did not need that kind of negativity in his mind.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Enough talk about dragons. Time to wake up."

Peter's eyes shot open, something he regretted doing immediately afterwards. White light blinded him, forcing him to close his eyes again. The light was gone, but the sharp pain in his head stayed. Damn. He knew that leaving the darkness meant problems.

"T-turn off th- lights", he managed to say. Huh. This was his voice? Funny. Maybe he was a dragon after all.

"The lights are off. We turned them off the first time you told us to. Never turned them on again afterwards. Everyone coming in here carries a little flashlight now. Which, if you ask me, looks hilarious."

"I-I've gone to h-heaven", Peter managed to say and felt awkward the moment the words had left his mouth.

"No, you are not", the voice told him a bit worried.

"I'm in hell?!"

"Guess again."

Peter heard a quiet laugh. The voice was sounding relieved now, almost pleased with the conversation they were having. It made Peter feel a bit more secure, although he couldn't tell why. He opened his eyes and successfully managed to fight against the urge to close them again as the light flooded his head. Wow, he would give everything he had for a pair of sunglasses now.

Everything was white. The bed. The walls. The floor. White was supposed to be a soothing colour. White was the colour Peter pictured heaven to be in. However, Peter did not exactly feel the way he wanted to feel in heaven when he had to go there someday. He felt like crap. His head was aching. His body felt lifeless. Plus, he really hoped that the light in heaven wouldn't hurt his eyes.

"Hospital", Peter stated, looking around.

"Pretty close."

Peter heard a soft clicking nose and turned his head. Tony was sitting a bit away from him, drinking from a glass he was holding. When he noticed Peter's eyes on him the man let the glass sink, watching the ice cubes that were in it.

"How long have I been out?"

"Not as long as I had feared and definitely longer than I had hoped", Tony thought grimly and put the glass on the small table next to him. The relief he'd felt when Peter had opened his eyes ebbed away at the confused look on the kid's face. The past couple of days he had waited for the boy to wake up had felt like an eternity, although everybody in this building with a medical degree had assured him that it was only a matter of time.

"Well, definitely not a hundred years, I can tell you that." Tony let out a heavy sigh and leaned back in the chair he was occupying.

"So, I'm not going to be a Disney princess after all", Peter joked and tried to laugh. Regret hit him as he felt a burning feeling inside his chest. Did his lungs hurt? Your lungs were not supposed to hurt when you laugh. Peter knew that. His lungs never hurt when he'd laughed. So why on earth-

"You know when we talked about the grey area you could operate in? When I dropped you off? Well", the man sighed angrily, "that was not grey. Not even dark grey. That was pitch black."

Oh. He had a feeling that this conversation was not going to end well.

"So, you might want to tell me what you had in mind the other day."

"W-what?", asked Peter. Why should he be the one to answer questions? He had absolutely no clue why he was in a hospital bed, but not in a real hospital. The last thing he remembered was-. What was the last thing he remembered?

"You have no idea what happened, do you?" Tony stated, eying Peter suspiciously. For a moment, there was this strange expression on his face. Peter did not like it. He had a feeling that he did something he was not really supposed to do and he got caught. Numerous questions flooded his head, but not even one of them came over his lips. What happened? Why was he here? Why was Tony here with him? Did May know he was here? Why was he feeling like someone used him as a punching bag?

Peter tried to focus. The vulture incident. Being offered to become an Avenger. May finding out that he was Spider-Man. And then? Nothing. Black.

Tony picked up his phone and started fiddling with it. The next second something white appeared in the middle of the room and Peter had to close his eyes again. Damn, light hurt. He waited until the throbbing pain in his head went away and reopened his eyes.

The quality of the video Tony showed him was very crappy. Peter had to look away two times because apparently the person was not very good at holding their phone still when filming something and it made Peter dizzy. He saw a big, grey thing jumping through the air, trying to damage the bridge, which was full of cars and people, with some kind of orange laser. He saw himself, swinging onto said bridge, shooting webs, falling, hitting the ground, getting up again. Over and over again. It seemed like the camera person was running backwards, as everything was jumping up and down, which made it difficult to understand what was going on. Then, out of the blue, the bridge collapsed.

"Whoa", Peter croaked.

"Yes. Whoa", Tony said. He sounded tired and Peter suddenly felt a bit bad. The video had stopped. "Don't worry. Somehow you managed to keep him distracted long enough for all the people on that bridge to leave the danger zone in time. Nobody got hurt. Well, besides you, obviously."

He gestured towards Peter chest, which, he discovered then, was covered in white bandages. Huh. This was new. But it sort of explained the pain he'd felt earlier when he had tried to laugh. All in all, his chest felt like there was a massive rock placed on top of it that made breathing and talking significantly difficult.

The minutes passed with none of them speaking. Peter tried to organize his thoughts. He wanted to ask questions but seemed not able to form them in his head. God, thinking was difficult these days. Tony had his eyes closed. As if he was waiting for something to happen which he did not look forward to. His hand slowly made its way to the glass on the table, picking it up.

"What exactly", began Peter, "happened after the bridge collapsed?"

There. He asked. One simple question. Why had it taken so long to form it, then? Seven words. That was not much.

Tony took a sip. "It collapsed on top of you and the maniac."

"And?"

"And you both were hurt. He is currently awaiting his trial", Tony told him. He talked in a very calm manner and for a moment Peter was amazed by the fact how surprisingly unflustered he seemed to be. The last time he'd pulled a stunt like that his suit got taken away after a rooftop-discussion loaded with emotions. But then again, he had no idea where his suit was at the moment.

Peter sighed and ignored the sharp pain that slowly formed in his chest. He missed the good old days when breathing was something not accompanied by that. "When can I go home?", he asked Tony, turning his head slightly and nearly laughed again when he discovered that this movement didn't bring him pain.

"Look", Tony said, running a hand through his hair. "You can't really leave yet."

"Because of my injuries?"

"Yes. Because of your injuries and… because of other reasons."

The strange look on Iron Man's face appeared again. He looked like he was ready to fling himself out of the window. Without his suit.

"What other reasons?"

"Currently, the situation for people with superhuman abilities is, let's put it this way, a little bit… delicate. Tricky."

"Tricky", Peter echoed.

It took him a moment to grasp where this might be going. Wait. It did not really make sense to him. Ignoring his headache, Peter said: "But I was Spider-Man before! And nobody cared-"

"Before this bridge incident, the only major thing you did in the eyes of the government was setting a part of a beach on fire due to a plane crash. It took me – us – only one day to fix this. You could go there and you would not have the slightest idea that something has happened the night before. But now…"

He took another sip.

"Now the government has taken interest in you. And this is not that good."

"O-okay. And… that means…that…?"

Tony stared at him. God, he looked so tired, Peter thought. Like he had aged a decade since they were talking. "That means that it would be the best if you would lay low for a while."

Peter wanted to object, but could not form the statement in his mind. This was not the best day for him to have this conversation. Lay low? Not be Spider-Man? For how long? He was not sure if he could do that. Or if he wanted to.

"But-", he began but was cut off.

"Look, I know that this is not something you want, considering what happened the last time I told you to stay home for a while and do nothing. But, and this is important now-", Tony said, leaning forward in his chair, "you don't really have a choice. There are people out there who have an eye on you and who are only waiting for you to make a mistake."

He let his words sink in for a moment before adding: "Peter, this situation is a little bit more serious than you think it is."

Peter's head was spinning. This was not good, was it? This was, in fact, really bad. And he could not even remember what the hell happened on the bridge! Peter was beginning to feel uneasy.

"Did they ask you about me?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell them something?"

"Hell no. But when we finally found you we had to take the mask off your face so you would not have problems breathing. And while I'm pretty sure nobody has seen anything", Tony emphasized the last word after becoming aware of Peter's horrified expression, "there is still a tiny possibility that someone might-"

"So-", Peter interrupted him hoarsely. Speaking was getting more difficult now. "What you are suggesting is-"

"What I am suggesting is you move in here. Temporarily. Until the government lets you off the hook. Until you are no longer on the news and the world finally loses interest in you again."

Boom.

"May-"

"Has been informed. Does not like the situation – not a bit – but she … accepts it. I made sure she is protected", Tony added after seeing the serious expression on Peter's face. He hoped that he'd never had to tell the kid about the conversation he'd had with his aunt while he was sleeping. "You can call it sleeping, but then you are lying to yourself and you know that", Tony thought, trying to get the image of May screaming at him at the top of her lungs out of his head. He couldn't remember how long he had talked with the woman and how many hours he'd needed to convince her that this was for Peter's best. And for her best as well. What he recalled, however, was him collapsing on his couch the minute he got home, feeling physically and emotionally drained.

"For how long?"

Tony did not answer. Instead, he was handing him a phone. "I'm going to have the bridge rebuilt. You can talk to your aunt as often as you like. Her number is on speed dial. Just don't lose the phone. You can go to the city whenever you want to. Happy will drive you. But, kid, do yourself a favour and don't do anything stupid."

Tony talked for a few more minutes but Peter found it more and more difficult to understand the words that were leaving billionaire's mouth. They did not make sense to him anymore. Or he was just too tired for that. He'd grasped the main idea. That had to be enough for now, he decided and closed his eyes for a bit. Then he remembered something and could not keep himself from laughing softly.

Smaug. The name of the dragon in The Hobbit was Smaug.