Okay, thank you to the 26 or so people who followed this fic. I was quite surprised to have that many follow overnight, so thank you. Apologies if Tony or Steve are OOC, I'm not great at writing different characters yet.
Iron Man smashed into the ground beside Captain America, watching Spider-Man disappear into a building mid-fall. "Did you just boomerang your shield at that kid?!"
"Kid?" Steve Rogers asked in amazement. "Fury told me he was an assassin and had to be taken out and handed over to S.H.I.E.L.D.!" He never would have thrown his shield if he'd known there was a kid in that spider costume. "How do you know?"
Stark grunted. "Fury wanted me to bring him in for questioning. The kid's helped me before and I guess he knows me better than the others, and since the director apparently knows Spider-kid won't be coming in by his own terms, he lied to you to get Spider-Man taken in."
"What a-" Steve stopped himself from vocalizing the director's name amidst several expletives (probably 'damn', 'bloody' and 'fondue', Tony thought. Of course his father had told him that story). "How can we bring in the kid without hurting him more?"
"I don't know! Tell me you have an idea, Rogers!" He hadn't been sure whether Spider-Man was actually bleeding, but J.A.R.V.I.S. zoomed in on the side of the building, which had bloody handprints all over it. "I'm all out!" That wasn't actually true, he had only tried talking (which hadn't worked), and attacking without strategy, but hopefully Steve wouldn't realize that. "I don't want to hurt the kid anymore."
That's not actually true, sir, J.A.R.V.I.S. said, correcting a previous statement. You have not suggested a single thing to stop Spider-Man, excepting highly aggressive plans. I however, do have some ideas that might better suit the situation, minimizing injuries to Spider-Man, yourself, and damage to surrounding structures-
"Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S. Tell me while I'm in the air." Stark said curtly, and took off after Spider-Man again. A brief thought nearly stopped him midair.
"Rogers, this kid has been around for ages. He's on TV all the time. How do you not know about him?"
"Well, I-" There was a shifty silence, which only confirmed what Tony had already suspected.
"You can't operate the TV!?" he crowed.
"I can operate specialized HYDRA weaponry," Rogers hissed. "Your unnecessarily complicated televisions are the least of my worries right now. Try bring the kid in without murdering him."
"Well, we've got you to do that," Stark mumbled.
Peter burst from the other side of the building, after a long detour avoiding workers (including coffee-man, who seemed to have moved floor to regale other employees with the story of Spider-Man and the window) in the building, standing right in the way in states of a kind of petrified amazement. He allowed himself to fall for several seconds, enjoying the feeling of cool air whooshing past him, on his aching ribs, before webbing himself a line to a bridge and swinging over the heads and cars of gaping and openmouthed commuters standing dumbly, mouths opening and closing like fish.
"Watch ooooouuuuuut!" Peter screamed uselessly as his lifeline slipped and he nearly crashed into a bus full of tourists. Fortunately he dodged the vehicle with a somersault (ow ribs ow ow he was gonna regret this), and saw flashes of light as the tourists immediately raised their cameras in a uniform onslaught of holiday memories.
Sure, his spider-powers were helping him so far, but Peter was tired. Really tired, and sore, and in quite a lot of pain, and the only thing he wanted to do was find Gwen and fall asleep in her lap. Of course, after chastisement and amateur surgery. Although if Stark kept up the pursuit, that might not ever happen. Well the chastisement would; even if she was standing in front of his grave, Gwen would tell him off for being an idiot.
Peter was struck by the sudden realization that his aunt might not ever find out what happened to him if he died as Spider-Man. Gwen would realize, of course, and if Aunt May did, who knows how she would react? And what if she found out?
He didn't want to go, not yet. Not for a long time.
"And that's not happening," he said to himself with gritted teeth.
You have to somehow daze him, sir, J.A.R.V.I.S. stated. I suggest you use your flares, and then use an electrical shock to render him unconscious. I examined footage of a previous capture of Spider-Man when Doctor Connors was attempting to genetically alter the DNA of every living thing in New York. That was how the police managed to arrest him, before Captain Stacy released him.
Tony altered his flight path to dodge a gaggle of tourists that were piling out of a bus, squealing and armed with cameras. "Okay, we've just got to get in front of him first. I tried using the electrical missiles before, but he kept dodging them."
Not a problem, sir. Tony felt the flight stabilizers kick it up a few notches, and he rocketed forward even faster than before. He was expecting them, then. Spider-Man's slowing form was getting closer every second. Now that Tony was flying closer, he could really see the extent of damage done to the man in the suit, and felt a few pangs of guilt. He hadn't intended it to get this bloody. In fact, he'd hoped that Spider-Man would immediately agree to see Fury. If it hadn't been Tony trying to collect him, Spider-Man, or someone else, would most likely already be dead. If the kid had just agreed… Stubborn dick.
Apparently Spider-Man bore more similarities with Tony than he'd thought.
The Iron Man suit overtook Spider-Man, who tried to shoot off in a different direction, but Tony raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay! I understand you don't want to see the director. I don't blame you. He's a dickhead." Spider-Man stuck to the side of the bridge and pointed his hands at Tony, holding himself on the bridge with only his feet. "We'll stop bothering you."
The last part was a blatant lie, but Spider-Man slowly lowered his hands that were directed straight at Tony, apparently ready to web him up with that sticky mixture that kept shooting out of his wrists. When Spider-Man's hands were planted on the bridge, J.A.R.V.I.S. deployed flares.
"We'll stop bothering you."
Peter could hardly believe his ears. He didn't want to trust Stark (well, actually he did, Tony Stark was so cool), but his spider-sense remained quiet.
His human sense, on the other hand, was screaming nope nope nope are you fucking insane Peter oh just trust the guy with the missiles that was just attacking you by all means you absolute twat.
Despite his human sense's colourful attempts to dissuade him from trusting Stark, almost two seconds passed without disaster striking.
So he lowered his hands.
OOOOH I TOLD YOU YOU PIECE OF-
Peter saw the mini-missiles leave the Iron Man suit, and it took a millisecond (too long) to realize what they were. His spider-sense wasn't going off, so they obviously weren't going to hurt him… too much.
Flares. Stark released flares.
And then everything went white. It was like a needle had been jabbed into both eyes. He pulled one of his hands off the bridge to shield his eyes (reminder: tint and polarize the lenses on his mask).
It reminded Peter all too much of when he was swinging his way to Oscorp to stop Doctor Connors. Flash of light, blinded and then taser. He particularly disliked the taser part, which thankfully hadn't happened yet.
Of course the spider-sense hadn't gone off. Flares technically weren't an attack, at least according to the bullshit sense.
HUMAN SENSE WINS THIS ROUND YOU LOSER
A steely hand gripped Peter's shoulder, and he blindly tried to shake it off. He lobbed a web in a random direction.
His human sense shook its metaphorical head sadly and flipped him off.
"Sorry, kid! Hopefully this won't hurt." Tony Stark's mechanized voice boomed next to his head, and then that useless spider-sense went off again (approximately 47.7 times stronger than before) as volts of electricity coursed through his body. It must have taken barely a second, but in that time Peter experienced an unpleasant feeling not unlike being dunked into boiling water, managed to swear extravagantly, and only after that, did everything disappear.
"Well, thank God that's over," Tony said, the mask lifting up from his face. He was holding Spider-Man, who had begun falling as soon as he had been tasered, out completely cold, bloody, and breathing far too shallowly to be healthy. (A sort of reflex had made him drop Spider-Man when the first volts coursed through him).
"You lied to him," Steve said disapprovingly. "You said you were going to stop."
"Well, I wasn't about to tell him I was going to electrocute him." Tony looked down at the boy. "Fury lied to you, again, and you don't seem to be that upset. At least this kid's in better condition than if Romanoff had come after."
"Actually, if Natasha was on the case, he'd already be leaving from the S.H.I.E.L.D. base in perfect condition."
"Shut up, Rogers."
"And he'd be pleasantly surprised as to how polite S.H.I.E.L.D. was."
"I swear to God, Rogers."
Director Fury surveyed the clouds on the helicarrier as numerous agents spoke into headsets, tapped on keyboards, and glared at the screens of their computers. To a stranger, it appeared he was admiring the view. To anyone who had known him for longer the 14 seconds, it was clear he was waiting. In this case, waiting for an arrogant billionaire to blast past, come aboard, and cockily strut into the room.
He was not disappointed.
"Stark's aboard, Director," Agent Hill stated, taking her hand away from her earpiece. "Rogers is being collected from the ground by Romanoff and Barton."
So Stark had separated from the others. Fury recognized this behaviour.
Tony Stark wanted to gloat. Fury cracked a knuckle. This is expected.
No sooner had he thought that, Tony Stark entered. He wasn't wearing his armour, which was normal, but he wasn't strutting, which was not normal.
Fury turned his single eye onto Tony Stark in the most horrifying glare as soon as he entered the room.
"I'm hoping for your own sake that your only purpose for being here is to tell me you brought Spider-Man in."
Tony Stark does not smile, and Fury was briefly reminded of when Stark hacked S.H.I.E.L.D. classified files to reveal that weapons were being developed from the tesseract. Tony had still busted out with the sarcasm ("I'm sorry Nick, what were you lying?"), but he hadn't been smiling. He had been deadly serious. For Stark, anyway. He sat down heavily at the conference table.
"You lied to Cap to bring in Spider-Man."
Oh. So Stark was pissed off about Spider-Man. Which was unsurprising, now that Fury thought about it.
"Spider-Man had to be brought in, he's a danger to society."
"Criminal society. And y'know, I think I'm slightly more qualified to decide that. I've worked with him, not you. You just get pissed when you aren't the reason for something going well."
"What are you talking about, Stark?"
Stark slammed his hands into the table. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. Spider-Man is doing the right thing, and you manipulate Rogers into practically killing him so that your precious Shitty Homeland etc. etc. division gets a) the credit for Spider-Man doing his job," Stark listed the reasons off his fingers, "or b) the excuse that you arrested him if his little exploits are badly received!" He paused, and then tapped a third finger. "And so that you can know every stupid thing about this kid because you seem to have a serious problem with not knowing absolutely everything."
Fury gave Tony an unimpressed glare. "I understand that you're feeling overprotective of the insect-"
"Spiders are actually classified as arachnids. Elementary school."
Oh great, the annoying dick version of Tony had turned. As if he'd never left. Agent Hill's face was stiff, but Fury had definitely caught her mouth begin to quirk up before she took control of her emotions again.
"Overprotective of the arachnid, but I have a world to keep safe, and this bug-" Fury gave a brutal look at Stark, who had opened his mouth, presumably to correct him with the actual definition of a bug, "-threatens it."
"Only by doing our job pretty damn well."
"Stark, I seem to remember you giving up your 'job' for an uncertain period of time." Fury gave a pointed glare to Tony's chest where the miniaturised arc reactor had once glowed.
"That's not the point!" Tony insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Spider-Man is doing exactly what we're supposed to do and you had us bring him in for it!"
"We have a duty to protect the world. Spider-Man deals with petty crime. Regardless," Fury spat, "his abilities classify him as a potential threat. When, or if, he agrees to work with S.H.I.E.L.D., we can remove him from that list."
"Rogers, Romanoff and Barton are on board with Spider-Man," Agent Hill interrupted. "Captain America is heading here right now."
"I can't wait to see the shit Rogers puts you through," Stark remarked gleefully.
Steve could barely accept that Fury lied to him. Sure, he really should have expected it, considering who the Director was (Tony's words floated through his head: "Captain, he's the spy. His secrets have secrets." He waved them away, and when they wouldn't leave, threw his shield at them).
After a cold argument with Nick Fury that he wasn't sure either of them won, he and Stark went to Spider-Man's holding cell. The vigilante was still out completely cold, belted to the bed in there like Barton had been when trying to release him from the effects of Loki's hypnotism.
There was still a considerable amount of blood on him, and his chest was rising and falling in a fluttering, weak way that Steve was sure he was entirely responsible for.
Stark seemed to know that. "Did your job a bit well for your liking?"
Steve didn't reply for a second. "I genuinely believed it when Fury said he was attacking civilians. I wouldn't have ever tried to bring him in if I had known he was helping people."
"Well, Fury is an asshole, so I just wouldn't trust him in future," Stark said casually.
Steve stared at the person behind the glass. Now that he was up close and not in action, he could really see Spider-Man. He didn't look all that heroic at the moment, a skinny man in a bloody costume, clearly in a very bad way. He could see a slash across Spider-Man's forehead, bloodied skin showing slightly through the gap.
"I think I did that one," Stark said, pointing out the gash on the vigilante's head.
Steve didn't answer. He recalled throwing his shield at the masked man, watching him clutch his chest after it connected with him. Broken ribs, surely.
"You really tore Fury a new one in there," Stark chuckled.
Steve quirked up the corner of his mouth, before lowering it to resume a solemn expression. "He had it coming. Manipulating me into just about murdering that kid," he said, nodding his head to Spider-Man.
"He likes getting us to do the dirty work."
"I'm not doing his dirty work again."
"Yeah, just punch him next time," Tony suggested.
"You're not helping."
And thanks once again for reading this far.
Updates may be a little slower to come, but rest assured that more will be coming. I've planned out most of this story and written a huge amount, so it'll be coming soon.