Author's Note: I'm going to binge write as many of these as possible over the next couple of days before I watch Endgame, so they might not be super long, but I hope to at least make them good, haha. This one is based off a prompt by Radio Rascal. Read, review, and enjoy!
PPPPPP
This was it. He was really going to do this.
Peter took a deep breath through his nose. This was… probably not a good life decision. It was possibly one of the worst he'd ever made. And that was saying something because Peter was pretty good at making bad decisions.
At least, for this one, he'd kind of done some research. Well, he'd gone incognito mode on his phone and tried to research stuff during class because he didn't want May catching him and he really, really didn't want Mr. Stark catching him. It also wasn't exactly the easiest thing to research. How do you look up what to bring when you're planning to go be an international war criminal with your soulmate?
Well, Peter could do without the international war criminal bit, but it was kind of a requirement of going to be with Steve, so he was going to have to deal with it.
This wasn't because Peter didn't love his life in New York or anything! It was just… he loved Steve more? Sure, New York had May and Ned and they were two of the absolute best things in his life. And New York had school which was interesting even if Flash tried his absolute hardest to make it miserable. New York had Mr. Stark who was really nice and helpful and so, so smart. New York had a civilian population that had been relying on Spiderman to keep them safe.
Peter could live without that, though. Just for a little bit! Because that was the thing: Steve's group was working on taking down Hydra and, from what Steve could/would tell him, it sounded like Hydra was pretty deeply intertwined with the US government. That meant that working with Steve and taking down Hydra faster meant that Steve would be pardoned faster and then they could go live in New York together!
Peter just… doesn't want to wait in the meantime, not when he could be doing something. He's not the most experienced hero on the market, but he was there, and he was sure he could add something to the group! Even if that something is just a good distraction, he could add something. He could help.
And yeah, he's doing a lot of good here in New York, but there are other heroes around. The Fantastic Four are even governmentally backed! That's more than he could say for himself. He could leave the city to them. Well, maybe not exactly to them. They didn't really seem to care about the little guys, not in the way Peter does. So, he'd be leaving New York to the Fantastic Four and the Defenders. They're kind of sketch, too, but Peter was pretty good friends with Daredevil for all of his gruffness.
So, Peter had gone to Ned – the only one he'd told his plan to – and asked him to disable every possible tracking, monitoring, reporting bug in his suit. He wouldn't be able to help the Secret Avengers out as much if he was back to wearing his "pyjama suit" as Mr. Stark called it. He also didn't want Mr. Stark to trace him back to the Secret Avengers. So, Ned's help dismantling everything in the suit it was.
While Ned was working on that, hunched over a computer on Peter's bed, eyes squinting down at his work, Peter had packed. He'd grabbed his old pyjama suit just in case and three actual pairs of pyjamas. Then he'd grabbed about a week's worth of clothes, shoving in two pairs of shoes and an extra set of socks because you always need an extra pair of socks.
His toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, hair brush, shower materials, and body spray went in a little bag that he stuck on top of his clothes. He folded up some pictures of his parents, May, Ben, and Ned, and put them in a side pocket for safe keeping. It was probably dumb to bring something so sentimental on his way to be an international criminal (and kind of insensitive because none of the rest of the Secret Avengers had gotten a chance to grab pictures of their loved ones before they were imprisoned and sent on the run), but he couldn't help it. Determination or not, superpowers or not, he was still a kid.
He didn't bring his phone because Mr. Stark could definitely track that. It was going to hurt to not be able to contact anyone, but it needed to happen for the Secret Avengers to stay safe. It couldn't happen any other way.
He didn't bring any other knickknacks or books or special items because he was going to come back. It would just take a little bit to clear Steve and the rests' names and then he'd come home. That was it. That was all he was doing. He wasn't running away for good. And with him to help, it wouldn't be long before the Sokovia Accords were dismantled, and everyone would be able to live free lives again.
That didn't stop the sick, swirling feeling in his stomach as he finished his final step: penning a goodbye (for now!) letter to his aunt. She deserved to know where he was going and why she'd left even if it'd kill her to know that he was putting himself in that much danger. Even if it'd kill her to know that Peter had left her here, completely alone.
The guilt settled further in Peter's stomach, making his shoulders hunch and his eyes burn. This was the right thing to do. He needed to do this. He needed to be with Steve.
It wasn't fair that they didn't get to be together because of some dumb law that was inhumane and horrible and probably created by Hydra! It wasn't fair! And for once in his life, Peter could do something about the unfairness of his life. He couldn't stop his parents from leaving, from dying. He couldn't stop himself from being bitten, couldn't stop Ben from going looking for him that night, couldn't stop Ben from getting shot. He couldn't stop himself from getting bullied, couldn't stop pretending like he was weak at school.
But he could do something about this. He could get up and make a decision and do something about this.
Ned understood at least. Peter knew that it hurt Ned a little bit, hurt him that Peter didn't consider him worth the effort of staying or something like that. That was wrong, but it wasn't entirely wrong. That sounded bad. Peter loved Ned like a brother. They were best friends! But Steve was… Steve was Peter's everything. Sure, their only real interaction had involved them physically fighting and Steve dropping a truck on Peter, but that was okay. Some relationships just had rough beginnings. And this rough beginning was orchestrated by misunderstandings and bad situations.
Clearing his throat slightly, Ned said quietly, "Done."
"Done?" Peter checked, eyes wide. He leapt over the room, landing on the bed with a worrying squeak that caused both him and Ned to grab the frame of the bed in concern. Once the bed had stopped moving and creaking ominously, Peter grabbed the suit, turning it over in his hands as if he'd be able to tell by looking that the monitoring procedures were gone. He didn't bother looking over Ned's code. He knew that Ned knew what he was doing.
Ned nodded, not saying anything, eyes downcast. Licking his lips as the first vestiges of nervousness started to swirl in with the guilt, Peter said, "You know I'm coming back, right?"
"I know," Ned said, still not looking up.
Peter swallowed, "It's just going to be for a little while."
"I know," Ned said. Peter felt his heart crack.
Rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his pant legs, Peter put a gentle hand on Ned's shoulder, "Hey, can you look at me buddy?"
Ned took a deep breath before looking up at Peter, "It's okay. I'm okay." Peter winced. He paused for just a moment before enveloping Ned in his arms. He tucked his face between Ned's shoulder and neck and curled himself up next to his best friend. Ned stayed straight as a board for a few painfully long moments before he curled around Peter, deep shuddering breaths shaking the both of them.
Ned whispered quietly, "I don't want you to go. You're going to be in so much danger and I'm not going to be able to help you. I – I can't be your guy in the chair. I can't be your guy in the chair!"
Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tucked his head in further, "Ned, Ned, you're always going to be my guy in the chair! Just knowing that you're still here, taking care of May, that's being my guy in the chair. That's being the best guy in the chair, okay? You're my best friend Ned. I'm going to miss you so much!"
Ned took one more shuddering breath, squeezing Peter so tight he saw stars (not that he was complaining – Ned's hugs were the best and this was the last one he'd get in a while) before letting go. Ned took a moment to run his arm over his eyes, sniffing loudly, throat bobbing. Peter bit his lip as he watched. One more deep breath and then, "Alright, you should probably get going. You've got a long way to go. They're in Canada right now, right? That's what you think? You better get going, hitch a ride on a truck, the whole shebang."
"You never say shebang," Peter commented with a watery smile.
Ned gave him a watery smile back, "And you said you'd never leave me." Peter winced, but he knew that Ned hadn't meant it in a mean way, just in an… honest way.
Huffing out something between a laugh and a sob, Peter darted in for one last hug, barely letting it last a second before pulling away again, "Alright, I'm heading out. You should… you should probably head home. Plausible deniability and all that."
"Yeah. Yeah, I should – go," Ned said.
They stared at each other for a long moment, the note on the table and the backpack slung over Peter's shoulder. In the end, they didn't really say goodbye, didn't really do a traditional parting. They just kind of… went different directions, Ned out the door and Peter out the window. He was going to see Ned again. He was.
For now, he had Steve to find.
Peter broke down less than two hours out of the city.
The crippling feeling of shame and guilt and frustration had welled up his stomach, into his throat. He jumped from the truck he'd been hitching a ride with, swinging down towards the trees and climbing one, curling into the smallest possible ball he could.
Shuddering sobs broke through his control, leaving him shaking against the trunk of the tree. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this! What would May think? What would Mr. Stark think? Ned was already devastated! Steve wouldn't want him to do this, not when it hurt everyone so much, not when it hurt Peter so much.
He… he… he couldn't do this. He couldn't. He – he couldn't. He had to talk to Steve. Had to. He – he had to.
Peter started frantically searching through his bags for a pen. There – there wasn't a pen! There wasn't a pen! How was he going to contact Steve? Everything was going wrong. Everything was going wrong. Peter started hyperventilating, hands fumbling so hard with his backpack that he could barely keep the thing on the branch in front of him.
Finally, finally, he found a pen. He tore the cap off, letting it fall to the ground without a thought. He crushed the tip of the pen into his skin, nearly tearing a rough line into the skin of his arm. He wrote, Steve, Steve please. I did something bad. I – I did something bad. I don't, I don't understand. Steve. Steve, I
He didn't even get a chance to finish before Steve was already writing back, frantically quick, Spiderman, slow down! Are you hurt? Are you physically alright?
Peter nodded before his shoulders hunched, realizing that Steve wouldn't be able to see it. He was dumb, so dumb. Slowly, trying to control his breathing, Peter responded, I am physically alright.
Steve's response wasn't quite so rushed the second time, Good, that's good. Now, what did you do? I'm certain it wasn't as bad as you think it was. You tend to convince yourself that things are worse than they are.
I ran away, Peter admitted in small letters. The pause went on a hint too long, judgement almost seeming to ooze down the bond. Peter felt desperate to add to his statement, to explain, Not – I didn't run away, run away. I was… I was looking for you. I think I know roughly where you were. I was going to come and join you. I left a note for my family and I got someone to disable all of the monitoring stuff in my suit. I grabbed some stuff and I was going to come find you. But I couldn't. I can't do it. I hate that I can't do it. I want to see you, to be with you. I want to be able to tell you my name so you don't have to keep calling me Spiderman, but I can't. I'm too weak, too dumb. I hate this. I hate this so much!
He was full-on sobbing again by the time he finished writing, feeling emotionally wrung out. He was such a mess. It was always him sobbing into his shirt, desperately asking Steve for help. So useless.
Steve's response took another four agonizing minutes to form, You know I love you. You know that. But this isn't the time for us to meet. When we're together again, I won't be a wanted war criminal. And you won't either, alright? We're going to get through this with as few arrest warrants as possible. Your family needs you and, as hard as this is to admit at the moment, Mr. Stark needs you too. Maybe more than I do. Well, no, that's not possible. I know we've both been dealt bad hands in life and this whole thing is just another bad card, but we're strong, stronger than anyone else. You know that – I dropped a truck on you the first time we met. We are strong enough to get through this. We will get through this. I love you, alright? I don't need to know your name to know that. Okay?
Peter sniffled, writing out immediately, Okay. I love you too.
Steve wrote back again, Now, I need you to go home to your family. Go hug them, alright?
Peter nodded at his arm again, this time letting out a little snort of laughter when he realized his mistake. He wrote back a quick affirmative before he got himself situated again. He was okay. Steve was okay. It was okay.
He was going to go back and hope that May hadn't read the note by then. He was going to go back and just… just forget that this ever happened.
It took him a little longer to get home, maybe two and a half hours. He was glad for the long ride home. It gave him a little bit of peace, gave him a chance to centre himself.
All that work of centring himself disappeared when he swung back into his room to see Mr. Stark sitting there, back bowed and something white crumpled in his hands. Peter's stomach dropped when he realized it was his note (he also felt a blinding moment of relief when he remembered that he'd never directly named his soulmate or mentioned anything about his soulmate's situation; this relief was followed immediately by guilt at the way he was thinking).
Licking his lips, Peter slowly took off his head piece, walking further into the room. Mr. Stark hadn't noticed him yet. He didn't want to scare him, but… "Mr. Stark?"
Mr. Stark jumped, gauntlet forming around his hand in a split second, aimed at Peter within the next second. Peter's shoulders hunched, but he didn't move, eyes wide. Mr. Stark took him in for a long second, disbelief colouring his face. After a second, he lowered his hand, the gauntlet sinking back into whatever device it'd come out of. Eventually, he croaked, "You're back?"
"I – I'm back. I'm so sorry Mr. Stark! I wasn't thinking! I shouldn't have – shouldn't have done that! I'm sorry!" Peter let out all at once, the words tumbling head over heels over each other.
Mr. Stark got that panicked look on his face he always got when Peter was being especially emotional, "Hey, hey Peter! It's okay! You're okay! I don't blame you. A soulmate is really important, I get that. It's okay. It's, well, it's not okay, not really. Don't you ever do this again, okay? I will help you find your soulmate if you need me to, okay? I will help you. Please don't just run off on your own. Don't leave your strangely hot aunt like that, alright? She would have missed you." Mr. Stark gave him a scolding look, trying to hide the panic, trying to hide the slumped look he'd worn earlier. Peter knew what he meant, though, knew that Mr. Stark meant that he didn't want Peter to leave him alone, knew that Mr. Stark missed him.
So, Peter dove into Mr. Stark's side, almost knocking the both of them off the bed and definitely accidentally digging his elbow into Mr. Stark's ribs. Mr. Stark held both hands above Peter's back, eyes wide and body rigid for a long moment before he melted into the hug, pulling Peter close. He put his head against Peter's making small, nonsense comments. They weren't exactly traditional comfort phrases, instead they were little titbits about Mr. Stark's robots, about Happy, about Pepper. They were just comforting reminders about the life Peter had here, the life he almost left behind.
He couldn't do that again. He needed to stay here, to wait until Steve was accepted back into America. He could wait. He could wait.
Peter buried himself further into Mr. Stark's side. He could wait.
Author's Note: There we are!
