Tony faced the pair of double doors that led into the… there was nothing else to call it: the cells. His breathing threatened to shake as he stood motionless, staring at them, gathering up the courage to go inside.
To see the kid.
Tony couldn't bear to go in there during the night, hearing the kid crying and shouting. Bouncing back and forth between pleading and hurling insults.
It was at 2:43 am that Peter finally stopped.
And now, standing in front of the doors, it had been 10 hours now since the kid had been locked up.
To say the least, Tony wasn't too excited to see what was on the other side of the door.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the doors. "Hey, Pete. I got you some breakfast here. Pancakes and bacon." But no eggs. The kid didn't like eggs.
The look he was met with made his skin crawl. The kid's head slowly rose. Dark eyes pulsed with flecks, maroon as deep as the colour of blood. Dark circles, nearly as dark as bruises, hung under his eyes, pulling at his face. His eyes shone with hate. He didn't say anything. Just watched Tony approach, steps echoing through the room, sounding too loud in the dead stillness. Placing the tray on the floor, Tony slid it through the window that opened up in the glass. Plastic scraped on the floor for a heartbeat and a half before coming to a stop.
Tony cleared his throat, "how're you feeling?"
Peter still hadn't moved, his gaze not wavering for a second as he watched Tony like he was a bug. His head tilted ever so slightly.
Menacingly.
His eyes were steely and as cold as ice.
After several heartbeats, the kid finally made a move. He stood.
Peter picked up the tray and analyzed it. Without warning, he launched it at the back wall. The tray smashed into the brick and clattered to the ground, spilling food, dishes, and water all over the floor. Good thing Tony had used plastic dishes.
Peter turned back to the glass and glared daggers at the man who simply raised an eyebrow.
Tony cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I take it you're not hungry?"
"No, I'm not fucking hungry," Peter spat. "I don't want your fucking food, jackass. I want you to stop keeping me here like a prisoner and let me out."
"Can't do that for at least a week, sorry kid."
Peter laughed dryly. "You are so full of shit, you know that?" He leaned into the glass, palms pressing into it and locked onto Tony's eyes. "I know why you're doing this - why you're forcing me to quit heroin. It's not for my sake, no no no no. You're doing it because I'm not useful to you like this. You-" he shoved a finger into the glass "-just want Spider-Man back. That's all you fucking care about: what I can do for you. You don't give two shits about me. You wanna know how I know that? Because you left." He hissed the words, eyes dripping venom. "After the ferry incident, you FUCKING LEFT. You thought that I wasn't fit to be a hero - and therefore wasn't useful to you anymore - so you took your shit and you fucking left. Let's be fucking real, Anthony, you were never gonna come back. I was never gonna see you again. That is, until I saved your plane from being hijacked. Then all of the sudden you want me to join the Avengers! What a surprise! Because. I proved to you that you could use me. That's the only fucking reason, so do me a favour and don't fucking pretend like you give two shits about me. I'm not that gullible. I see you for what you are, what you've always been: a self-centered, egotistical, lying bastard."
A heartbeat of silence passed between the two where neither one broke eye contact. Suddenly Tony tilted his head and looked the kid up and down. "I take it you're not feeling so good? Don't worry, kid, you'll be through this before you know it."
Peter scoffed and pushed away from the glass. "Fuck you."
Tony's gut twisted, he didn't want to leave the kid here alone, but it wasn't looking like he was up to keeping company. Maybe giving him a couple more hours of space would be best.
"If you need anything, let FRIDAY know, I'll be in the building."
"I don't need you, Stark. I've never needed you."
"Well, you need someone and right now, I'm all you've got."
The kid expression flickered, momentary contriteness passing across his features. It didn't last, but it left a sort of exhaustion in its wake. "Leave me alone."
Tony sighed, heart squeezing painfully. Without a word, he nodded and exited the room, heavy metal doors closing with a solid thud behind him.
Yeah, he dreaded what the kid was gonna say to him, but more than anything, he dreaded seeing how much the kid was going to hurt.
It was only going to be for a week. One week.
And it was for the better.
Short-term pain, long-term gain.
Right?
. . .
Blood pounded in his ears. His arms and legs shook, barely strong enough to keep himself upright. His head was heavy and it felt like a chain and ball was wrapped around him, pulling him down, down, down, down, down.
His breathing was ragged in his own ears
His stomach was a pit, twisting, wrung by barbed wire.
His blood was sludge, sticking to the sides of his veins like molasses.
He was dripping in sweat, shirt and pants clinging to his skin. His bones shivered deep in his tissue.
He itched, skin crawling. But no matter how hard he scratched, it didn't stop. It didn't lessen. It was driving him mad.
He couldn't focus on anything, could barely hear anything over the pouding in his head. The lights were too bright, the air too hot and cold at the same time. The world was too heavy.
He was so tired.
His core burned, begging for relief, for the discomfort to go away.
He just wanted it to stop.
He couldn't take it anymore.
. . .
"YOU DON'T WANT ME TO DO DRUGS?!" He pounded on the glass, "WHAT THE FUCK ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!"
Tony stayed quiet.
'SAY SOMETHING!"
With a jolt, Tony watched Peter's fist punch through the glass. Tony's hand instinctively moved to his chest, ready to activate his suit - an action that did not go unnoticed by the kid.
The nanotech making up the glass extended, wrapping around the kid's hand and trapping it back inside the cell.
A guttural scream ripped from Peter's throat as he broke through the glass once more. His knuckles were bloody and stained red as the shards cut at his skin. Feeble fingers tore at the surrounding nanotech, trying to dig their way out.
But it was futile.
Tony had prepared for this. A near endless amount of tech was waiting in the walls of the cell just in case. No matter how much the kid tore, no matter how much glass he broke, there would always be more to replace it.
The kid was strong, but he wasn't strong enough to tear through the tech that quickly. Not in this state.
"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!" His breathing was ragged and his muscles shook. Tony watched as the fire started to dwindle and he stumbled back, tears blossoming in his eyes. "What am I supposed to do? I don't have a family. I don't have a future, Tony, so please, if you have an answer, tell me, I'm begging you, tell me. Tell me what I'm supposed to do." He backed up until he hit the wall. Bloody hands clutched his chest. He sank, tears free falling now as he stared dead-on at Tony. "And don't tell me to give it time. Don't tell me it'll be fine, because it won't. It will never be fine. It will never be ok. None of this will ever be ok. So if you don't want me to do drugs, you're gonna have to give me something - anything - to replace it. Because I can't do this without-" His voice faltered and he bit his lip in a feeble attempt to stop it from quivering. Taking in a deep shaky breath, he ran his hands down his face. "Let me out. Please."
Tony swallowed. Any words of comfort had died before they even formed. What was he supposed to say? He knew that all the usual shit was just that: shit. It never meant anything. It never made anything better.
Not getting an answer, the kid pushed himself up and staggered back over to the glass.
"Tony let me out."
Raising his chin, Tony swallowed and set his voice, "not gonna happen, kid, sorry."
The kid's face twitched. That same fire sparked behind his eyes, but this time it was a smaller, but steadier flame. "Why'd you lock me up? Is it 'cause you're scared? Is it 'cause you know I could rip your goddamn throat out?" His face relaxed as he watched Tony with near sadistic amusement. "You know that your little suit won't protect you. You think Thanos was scary, wait 'till I get out of here, Anthony. I'm gonna tear you apart. I'm gonna make you wish you stayed dead." Flames licked behind his irises making them almost appear red. "You can't keep me here."
"And you can't keep doing drugs."
"I can."
"No, no you can't."
"No?" He smiled tightly and shrugged, "how about you give me some, we'll see who's right."
Tony sighed through his nose and watched Peter's face fall. "I can't let you out because you're sick."
"Nothing's wrong." He shook his head with fervour, trying a small smile of reassurance. "I'm fine."
"You will be. I promise you, Peter, you're gonna be ok."
He shook his head, breathing trembling. "No. No. Tony, no, please no. Please don't do this to me. Please." His voice was gravely. Broken and strained from screaming and crying. "Tony, please don't do this. You can't do this."
"Try… try to get some sleep." Tony made his way towards the doors. "I'll see you in the morning."
"N-NO! Tony don't-"
The doors closed.
Tony needed a drink. Or two. Or five.
. . .
"Where are you? You haven't been home in two days!"
"Uh, yeah, about that, I'm gonna be out for a while."
"WHAT?! How long? Where are you? You told me, you would talk to me first before going out as Iron-"
"I locked the kid up. In a cell. At the Tower. He keeps yelling at me." The line was silent, momentarily making Tony wonder if she'd hung up or dropped her phone. "Pepps? You still ther-"
"WHAT THE HELL, TONY?!" Pepper's frantic voice blasted through the speaker, making Tony's ear hurt. "You locked him- oh my god Tony what were you-"
"I couldn't do it anymore, Pepps." Pepper got quiet. He heard her sigh. "I couldn't watch him kill himself anymore."
"I… I understand. Just- just be careful. I know he's a good kid, but… but he's got power, Tony."
"I've got my suit on me, ready to activate, don't worry."
Tony heard a sigh of relief followed by a few moments of silence. "Has he said anything yet?"
The knot in Tony's stomach twisted tighter. "Mhm."
A heartbeat. "Don't take any of it to heart, ok?"
"It's pretty rich, you know, you judging me when you're a fucking alcoholic."
Tony's whole body stalled, floor falling out from under him. His heart palpitated.
He shook it off and slid the tray into the cell.
Tony clicked his tongue, "yep."
"Yeah…" Tony sipped his whiskey, "yeah, I know."
"I mean it Tony."
"You always do." Tony cleared his throat and downed the rest of his glass. "Give Morgan a hug for me, will ya? And tell her to stay away from my Goji berries."
"I think Gerald already got to them."
"Dang it! Whose idea was it again to get an alpaca?"
"Oh don't you even start-"
"If my memory serves, it was you, wasn't it?"
"Good thing you're not here or you'd be sleeping on the couch tonight."
A smile tugged at Tony's lips. "Guess I'd just have to cuddle with Gerald."
A soft chuckling came through the speaker. After a few moments, she sighed, relaxed. "He'll be alright."
Tony sighed and scrubbed at his face. "Yeah, yeah, I know."
A heartbeat. "Love you. Try to get some sleep."
"Love you too."
. . .
Tony looked at the kid. His chest ached at the sight of Peter curled up on the floor, his hair - usually puffed out in messy curls - was damp with sweat. His eyes were sunken and hollow and exhausted.
Noticing Tony looking at him, Peter's eyes lifted to fix the man with a glare that could kill. "What are you looking at?" he spat, "regretting getting involved in my life? Well, how about you let me out of here and I'll let you walk away, 'kay?"
Tony sighed through his nose and shook his head, "I'm not going anywhere kid, and neither are you until these withdrawals pass."
Fire blossomed behind the kid's eyes just like a fire burning to life. But the anger was snuffed out just as quickly and Peter's face fell once more into a look of depletion. He didn't say anything, just propped himself against the wall and tucked his legs to his chest, letting his forehand rest on folded arms.
"I'm right here with you, Pete, promise."
Peter didn't respond, making Tony wonder if he'd even heard him.
Waiting a few more moments, Tony sighed and got ready to turn away, when the kid's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Do you ever think about all the families you've killed selling weapons to their oppressors?"
The floor fell out from under Tony and his mind warped.
Tony's eyes found Peter, he was on his feet now, dark eyes staring at Tony dead-on. "How many people have you killed that way? How many people have you let get slaughtered for profit? So you could build your little suits? So you could buy your fancy cars. So you could throw your money away in Vegas while someone starved outside the casino?" A pause. "I wonder. I bet the families kept count. I bet they know. Like Wanda? Isn't that what happened to her? You sold someone your weapons and they killed her family with them?" His head tilted, eyes dark as coal and burning just as bright. "Do you ever fear her? Do you ever wonder if she'll snap one day and kill you? If I was her, I just might."
Stomach twisting, Tony forced the pounding of his heart to slow. Right now wasn't the time to react. He'd been over these thoughts time and time again; he knew how to shoved them back down for the moment being. He'd deal with them later.
Tony cleared his throat. "Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won't we." Tony clasped his hand together and rocked back on his heels. "Look, I know you're pissed right now-"
"Yeah you could fucking say that."
"-but you're gonna be ok. You're gonna get better, I promise."
"No." The word was short and sharp, just on the edge of being a snap.
"Yes, you will, you only need time."
"No." The kid's tone was more forced, his eyes like steel, locked onto the ground, like he was fighting to stay calm.
"It's worth it, kid, you're only 17, you're life is just beginning-"
"SHUT UP!" He grabbed onto the bedside table and tore it from the wall. It tipped and landed on the ground, sending all its contents crashing. "Everyone is dead. Everyone is FUCKING DEAD. Mom. DEAD. Dad. DEAD. Ben. DEAD. May." His mind came to a standstill, frozen in the wave of heart-wrenching memories. Peter blinked. "Dead. My grandparents. Dead on both sides before I even had a chance to fucking meet them. So don't try to fucking tell me that I have 'so much to live for.' I have nothing. Not one FUCKING THING to live for. So don't FUCKING try that BULLSHIT WITH ME! YOU FUCKING HEAR ME-"
He was cut off. His body spasmed and he curled over, retching. A glop of vomit clawed up his throat and out.
At least it didn't last long.
Straightening himself out, Peter fell into the wall, hands pressed into the glass and head hanging. His breathing was ragged and heavy as stone. His muscles shook. Tony could see his eyes glued to no spot in particular on the ground, but his expression was wavering, dark embers fighting to stay dormant. His fingers curled, making cracks at the end of each digit.
Tony cringed. "You want a mint?"
Peter's eyes cut to his, absolutely livid.
Right. The kid hated mint. Tony knew that. Oops. "Uh… sorry."
"Give me my drugs, Tony." The kid's voice was midnight. Quiet. Calm. Deadly.
"You know I can't do tha-"
His fist rammed into the glass. "GIVE ME THE FUCKING DRUGS TONY!"
Tony's eyes did a once-over of the kid. He was pissed - like pissed pissed. It was almost scary; Tony had never seen a look like that in Peter's eyes. "Kid, take a deep breath. It'll all pass in no time-"
"SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He pounded on the glass again. "I swear to god, Tony, I will break down this fucking wall. LET. ME. OUT." With each word, he rammed into the glass. Massive cracks formed and dust fell from the ceiling, but the nanotech held up. "JUST- just give me some drugs. Mr. Stark, please! Please, you don't understand, I need them. I- I need them." The kid sank to the ground, his voice softening into a hoarse plea. Tony had to turn his head, unable to bear looking at the kid. "Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark please, please help me. Please, I can't take it! I just- I just need- need one more hit. One more and I'll be done, I swear. Mr. Stark?" Tony squeezed his eyes shut, the broken sound of Peter's voice damn near shattering his heart. "You have them don't you? No way you'd have just left them in my bag. You fucking HAVE THEM! Let me out, Tony. OPEN THE FUCKING CELL!" The rage returned and Peter started kicking the glass, sending continuous thumps through the air. Tony turned back, watching as jagged cracks webbed across a large portion of the glass, slowly getting bigger with each assault. Within seconds, nearly half of the glass was a maze of cracks. The nanotech wasn't repairing fast enough. "OPEN THE FUCKING CELL, STARK! YOU CAN'T KEEP THEM FROM ME! YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT!"
Cracks sliced through the glass like serrated steel. The whole thing was about to shatter. "FRI."
"On it." Tony's triangle sped through the doors and strapped to his chest.
With a crack sharp enough to cut air, the wall collapsed into a waterfall of glass.
The room deafened.
Standing where the wall used to be was Peter. His eyes were fixed on Tony, dripping black. He stepped out of the cell, glass crinkling under bare feet. He didn't give the blood a second look as it seeped onto white marble flooring.
He stalked towards Tony, shoulders hunched and breathing heavy. "Where are they?"
Tony feigned nonchalance. "Oh hey, Pete, how're you feelin'? You don't look so good-"
"Shut it!" He snapped. "I need a hit." Desperation entered Peter's face - Tony could see the kid fighting to regain control over himself. His voice was a pained whisper, "just tell me where they are, please Tony."
Tony inhaled. "I got rid of them."
The kid's face twitched, a wave of emotions rippling through his expression. "I paid for those. Y- I paid- you owe me- you FUCking owe me those DRugs. You OWE me-" his voice died out, trembling and shaking with manic rage.
Tony's heart picked up, his sense of danger kicking into high gear. He cleared his throat and tried to casually move back, but Peter followed. Every step Tony took, the kid took a step and a half until Tony felt the wall at his back.
"Kid, take a deep breath-"
Peter's body tensed. FRIDAY activated Tony's suit, the nanotech covering him like a sheath just in time for a fist to collide with the wall beside his head. Tony flinched.
Peter stayed like that for several heartbeats, face reticent as his eyes flickered over Tony's armour. He sneered. "I knew you were afraid of me. Just like the rest of them."
Tony swallowed, tongue feeling like sandpaper. "In my defence, you're kinda unstable right now."
"Fuck you."
Tearing his hand out of the wall, Peter finally moved away from Tony. Tony felt himself exhale in relief, but that feeling didn't last long as he noticed the kid was heading towards the doors. Now they may have been made of Vibranium, but Tony didn't trust them to hold Peter for long.
For God's sake, Tony had thought the nanotech wall would've held him, so he wasn't about to trust anything.
Except himself.
Time for another round.
Tony tackled Peter.
Again.
Third time's the charm, right?
Well as it turned out, those old sayings weren't built on facts, who woulda thunk it?
As soon as Tony made contact, the kid twisted, using his momentum to fall into a backwards handstand then launch himself into the wall, where he seamlessly stuck. Tony, meanwhile, graciously face-planted into the base of the wall.
"Now seems like a good time to remind you I record everything." FRIDAY chimed in Tony's ear.
"Course you do," Tony grumbled and pushed himself up, trying to act casual. He was met with Peter's gaze a few feet up the wall. Tony cleared his throat, "I meant to do that." The kid's expression fell into one that screamed 'you're an idiot'. Tony couldn't argue with that one. "Get down from there."
"Buy me my drugs back."
"No. Get down."
"No."
"I'm not afraid to drag your ass back in there."
"And I'm not afraid to hit an old man."
"Peter-" the kid was scurrying up the wall on all fours. Tony had never actually seen him move like that. He couldn't lie - it was horrifying. "God, I think I finally understand your name."
The kid paused, now on the ceiling. "What?"
"Nothing, never mind. Look, if you come down, I'll buy you pizza-"
"How 'bout you give me money for a pizza and I'll go buy it. You stay here."
Now it was Tony's turn to fix Peter with a flat stare. "I'm horrendously insulted that you think I'm stupid enough to fall for that."
"You did just face-plant into the wall, so…"
"Ok that's enough outta you, come down right now mister."
"I already told you no."
"You're not getting out of this room."
"Watch me."
Tony sighed. Raising his gauntlet, he aimed at the kid, ready to fire off a disorientating stun blast, but the kid wasn't about to fall for that one. The kid pounced (which looked weird as hell) and wrapped a hand around Tony's extended wrist. Dropping into a slide, the kid skidded past Tony, using his momentum to yank the billionaire down face-first into the floor.
Ow.
Tony's poor beautiful face was met with a second assault from the room.
Tony blasted himself back up onto his feet and turned to see Peter in the process of wriggling his fingers in between the door's crack, trying to pry it open.
A steel wire shot out of Tony's wrist and wrapped around the kid's ankle.
Peter let out a startled cry as his foot was pulled out from under him. The distance between him and the doors grew quickly as he was dragged back into the centre of the room.
With a cry of frustration, the kid rolled onto his back and twisted his legs, swinging them into what Tony could only describe as a 'break-dancing move'. Sure enough, Tony was yanked forward and was forced to let go of the wire lest his poor face reap the consequences for a third time.
"Have you ever considered break-dancing? Bet you'd be good at it"
Peter paused, fixing Tony with a clear 'wtf' expression.
Using the kid's momentary confusion, Tony darted forward and grabbed his wrist. He spun on his heel then let go.
The kid went careening towards the cell, most of which was now closed off except one piece that was open, ready and waiting for the kid to fall through it. But before Tony could celebrate his strike, the kid suddenly stopped, one foot sticking to the floor, right in front of the cell.
Sticky little bugger.
"Godammit," Tony breathed, partially from his almost-success and part from the fact that the kid was now standing in the scattered nanotech. Ie. glass shards.
Peter found stable footing again. His expression darkened, fixing Tony with a warning glare. "You're not locking me up again, Tony."
Tony set his chin, "watch me."
The kid's face twitched uncontrollably.
Tony shrugged.
The kid took a step forward, muscles tensing. He fell into a sprint, trying to dart past Tony. But Tony cut him off and delivered a nose-full of peppermint essence right to the face. The kid jerked back, stumbling wildly. His hands waved violently in front of his face in a feeble attempt to disperse the smell.
Tony felt kinda back, watching the kid curl over in nausea, visibly trying not to hurl, but it worked, so…
Every hair stood on end when the kid literally growled, red flecks sparking in his irises as his eyes cut to Tony.
"Son of a bitch!" Faster than Tony could process, Peter's fist collided with his face plate. His head snapped to the side just in time to see a left hook coming his way. That also hit. And then one to his chest, sending him crashing into the wall.
Tony shook his head, trying to regain his senses, when a foot rammed into his chest. All the air left his lungs as he was buried further into the wall. He didn't have time to make sense of anything. He felt something make contact with his stomach then suddenly disappeared. The kid's voice cried out followed by a hard thud.
FRI's voice chimed in Tony's ear, "get up. The blast won't keep him down for long."
Tony peeled himself out of the wall, finally having enough time to make sense of his surroundings. His eyes landed on Peter halfway across the room, in the process of pushing himself up off the ground. He lost his footing for a second when his foot slipped in a small pool of his own blood, still seeping from the cuts in his feet.
When he took a step, he was limping, face twitching with pain. But that didn't stop him, red streaks smearing into the marble as he continued his approach.
Tony held up a hand, "kid, you have glass in your feet, let me hel-"
"I WANT MY FUCKING DRUGS, STARK!"
Tony clamped his jaw shut at the kid's tone. Sharp, jagged, rageful… scared. Eyes - burning red - were glassy.
Tony's gut twisted. "Sorry kid."
The kid was too far away to react in time as Tony raised his gauntlet, already charged with an air-blast. Tony fired. The shockwave slammed into Peter, sending him flying back and landing on his butt with a hard thud.
In the cell.
Tony saw the kid's eyes widen as he realized what had happened.
But it was too late.
The wall built back into place once more, this time tripling in thickness. Peter shoved himself to his feet. He rammed his fist into the wall, but it didn't crack, instead it bent a little with the impact, absorbing enough of the force to keep it fully intact. Realization flashed across Peter's face. FRIDAY had learned.
"No." He shook his head, breathing picking up. He hit the wall again. And again and again and again and again. The faintest hairline crack appeared before almost instantly being repaired. His eyes held suspended tears of fear. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no. No. Mr- Mr. Stark, let me out. You can't lock me in here again. You can't- you- you can't."
"Hey, kid, hey, deep breaths-"
"Give me the drugs RIGHT FUCKING NOW! GIVE ME THE GODDAMN DRUGS! I need them. I fucking need them or I'm gonna FUCKING KILL MYSELF! I WILL FUCKING COMMIT SUICIDE AND IT'S GONNA BE YOUR FUCKING FAULT! YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?!"
Tony had no choice but to stand there - to wait it out. There was nothing he could do to help - nothing he could say. Maybe he should have left for his own sake, but he couldn't bear to leave the kid alone while he was in this state.
"I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I fucking hate you so goddamn much. Fuck you. I fucking hate you. I hate you so much. Fuck you."
Yeah, Tony probably deserved that.
"I FUCKING HATE YOU! I WISH YOU WERE STILL FUCKING DEAD!"
The words were like a gunshot, ripping right into Tony's heart. His breath hitched.
Peter's face fell.
He stumbled back until he hit the far wall, horror displayed on his face. He gapped, no words coming out. His eyes choked on tears and his breathing picked up. "I'm- I'm so sorry." Peter slid down the wall, hugging his knees to his chest while hot tears poured down his cheeks. He hiccuped through sobs as he spoke. "I- I'm so sorry. P-please forgive me-e. I'm so sorry. I'm- I'm so s-sorry! I just miss them so much. I miss her so much. Mr. Stark, I- I'm sorry. I'm s-so mean. I'm so- I'm so sorry! I didn't- I didn't mean to hur-hurt you. But I did and I'm so sorry!" He gripped his chest and keeled over, a wretched sob tearing from his throat. Watery eyes met Tony's, filled with pure agony, as if putting his soul on display, finally letting Tony see the unbridled grief, loss, pain, and fear. With no words being spoken, Tony heard Peter's soul crying out. He heard the cracks cutting through him. He heard the fragility. He saw the ledge he was dangling over, ready to tumble with the smallest push. "I'm so sorry, please forgive me. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it, please forgive me, please. I'm so sorry."
Tony swallowed his feelings and padded close to the glass, kneeling so he was on Peter's level. "Hey, hey, it's ok, it's ok, kid, I get it, you're goin' through a lot right now."
"I didn't- I didn't m-mean it, Mr. Stark, I swear, I didn't mean it. I'm so s-sorry."
"I know, I know, I didn't think you did. I get it, you're… you're overwhelmed right now. I won't take anything you say to heart, 'kay?"
Through watery eyes, the kid nodded, scrubbing some tears from his cheeks. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't."
"But I did!"
"Peter. Listen to me: you did not hurt me. I'm fine, ok?" Tony set his jaw and muttered, "trust me I've heard worse from people who actually mean it."
The kid blinked, tears coming to a stand-still. "I- I'm sorry that you've had to go through that, Mr. Stark. That's terrible. I- I was- how could someone say something worse than… I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark."
Tony inhaled, what could he say? His dad was mean. Feigning nonchalance, he shrugged, "I appreciate it, kid, but I'm fine, really. I've got thick skin."
A few moments of silence passed, Peter let out a breath and sat back, wiping away any remaining tears. "I wish I was as tough as you."
"You're even tougher, kid."
. . .
Watching over the monitor was almost as bad as being in the room.
He didn't dare take his eyes off the kid for a second. Yeah, he knew FRI was there watching Peter, but Tony just- he- he just wanted to see for himself that the kid was ok.
Well, as 'ok' as he could get going through withdrawals.
He did turn the sound off, though.
He couldn't listen to the kid's cries any longer.
Even without his voice in the background, it was hard enough for Tony to focus on anything.
But he did try.
Tinkering in the lab had always been his escape. Working through equations, troubleshooting new design features, and designing improvements always kept his brain busy.
Which kept him from having to think.
That was always good.
His own mind had always been a sort of trap, so it was best to avoid it altogether.
And so he built things. He buried himself in science and mechanics.
Or so he tried to.
Finally after four hours of trying - and failing - to focus on designing a naloxone administering feature to his automated suits, Tony gave up.
He'd do it later.
Right now he could use a snack.
Maybe the kid could use a snack too.
Grabbing a handful of fruits and berries from the kitchen, Tony headed down to the 88th floor.
As soon as he walked through the doors, his stomach dropped.
For about the hundredth time in four days.
Red bloody streaks of broken skin ran down the lengths of Peter's arms as well as patches on his neck.
Peter's voice was ragged. His eyes were wild and every muscle trembled, sweat dripping from his nose. "Mr. Stark please, please. I'm begging you please! I- I can't take it. I feel like I'm dying, Mr. Stark. I'm serious, I can feel my skin crawling. Tony, please, it feels like there's fucking bugs crawling under my skin!"
Tony knelt in front of the glass, a foot away from Peter. "Hey, hey, hey, kid, hey. I know you're feeling real bad right now, but you're alright. There's no bugs, it's just your brain playing tricks on you, 'kay?"
"No-" Peter shook his head, tears starting to spill down his cheeks.
"I promise you, Pete, you're fine. You're almost through it-"
"NO! No, Tony- TONY PLEASE! PLEASE I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE PLEASE! JUST- just one more hit, Tony, please! Then I'll be done, I swear. Please! Please." His voice cracked, becoming nothing more than a broken whisper, "I am begging you, please, Tony, please."
He reached out a hand, arms shaking so bad, it almost looked like it was about to fall off. His eyes were watery and strained, overflowing with agony. His head bobbed as he struggled to hold it up. "Please." He tried feebly to crawl forward, but he barely moved an inch. "Help me, Tony, please help me."
His body seized. He threw up, gasping for air between spasms. He whimpered, sounding like he was in pain.
He curled over on his side into a fetal position, one hand clutching his stomach. It appeared that the vomiting had passed, but he was too weak to move. His eyes were bleary, blinking haphazardly, eyelids struggling to move - even to close. He just laid there, breathing ragged and heavy, but every muscle still as stone. It was as if the floor was trying to absorb him.
The nanotech parted for Tony.
He knelt at the kid's side, careful to avoid the vomit puddle. Resting a hand on Peter's forehead, he felt cold, clammy skin, sticky with sweat. Up-close, his hair was in mops, and he was pale as snow, dark circles looking almost like black eyes.
Hooking his thumb under his sleeve, Tony wiped a spot of puke off of the kid's cheek.
Peter didn't make any moves, he barely even acknowledged Tony; the only sign that he'd even noticed him was the flicker of his eyes.
Tony hooked an arm under the kid's shoulder and knees. He lifted.
Peter was still so light - probably even more so than before.
Making his way over to the bed, Tony set the kid down, making sure he was positioned on his side. He draped a blanket over Peter, tucking him securely in place. Within seconds, the kid's eyes were closed and his breathing had softened to a light, steady rhythm. With a sigh, Tony turned his attention to clean-up duty.
It wasn't like he didn't know that it would be hard watching Peter go through this, but… but it was tough. Like, really tough. Tougher than he could've ever imagined.
Peter just looked so broken.
. . .
"How many times do I have to tell you: I don't wanna get clean."
"And how many times do I have to tell you that I don't believe that?"
"It doesn't matter whether or not you believe me, it doesn't change anything." With a frustrated groan, Peter racked a hand through his hair. "You don't understand.
"That so? Well why don't you tell me, huh? Why don't you try actually talking to me?!"
"uuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUGHHHH!" Peter clawed at his scalp, eyes screwed shut. His breathing was weighted and fast like he was trying to calm down. "WHAT'S THE POINT?!" He snapped all of the sudden. A moment passed and he slumped back, anger melting away as fast as it had formed. He sighed. "If I get through this, there's nothing on the other side for me. There's just no point, Tony. Why would I choose to fight through this when there's nothing but loneliness waiting for me? There's no happiness - no one. I don't care enough about myself to bother healing for me. I'm sorry, Tony, but why would I choose that life? I mean, at least with heroin I get a few seconds of ecstasy when I first inject. And honestly, I'll take it. I'll take any peace that I can find. I wish it didn't have to be this way, Tony, I really do." Peter stared helplessly at the man, eyes lifeless. "All I ever wanted was a family."
Tony's eyes's flicker between the kid's, heart aching but also hardening with defiance. "You have one."
Peter gently shook his head. "I wanted somewhere I belong."
"You belong with us."
"No. You're… you're your own family. I'm just some outsider who invaded your life."
"And why do you think that?"
"… what?" The kid finally looked over at him, frowning deeply.
"Why do you think you're an outsider?"
"Cause I'm not your family?"
"How come?"
"… my parents are… not you or Pepper?"
"So?"
"What do you mean, so?"
"I mean: what does that matter?"
"Because… ok look, family is… they're who you grow up with, who you spend your life with." He sighed, looking away again. "Mr. Stark, I met you when I was fifteen and you were in, like, your fifties-"
"Fifties?!"
"-You didn't even know I existed until two and a half years ago-"
"Seven and a half, actually - from my perspective."
"Whatever. My point is: we never formed that relationship that families have. We're just two strangers who happen to have the same… job, I guess you'd call it? That's not a family, Tony."
Tony crossed his arms, fixing Peter with a defiant look. "It is if I say so."
Peter's eyebrows knit together. A moment passed and he took an involuntary step back, making Tony frown.
Peter shook his head, heart rate picking up with fear.
Tony was saying that stuff again.
Peter didn't want to hear it.
He didn't want to believe it.
He didn't want to believe Tony loved him. He didn't want anyone to be pulled into his life and suffer because of it. He didn't want to have anyone else he could lose. He couldn't do that again.
He was scared.
He was dying and he knew it.
But he wasn't strong enough to live on his own.
The years had fractured him - had made cracks in his heart. But May… she'd broken him.
That night had delivered the final blow.
He just hadn't realized it at the time. But he had been slowly bleeding out ever since.
It was funny how grief could do that.
You would hurt. A short burst of pain.
Then suddenly you'd be fine.
You'd be fine for hours, days, weeks. Then the dam would break and all that pain, that fear - all that anger would come crashing down in a torrential downpour.
And suddenly you would be drowning.
But you'd never die from it.
You'd just keep withering away, piece by piece by piece by piece by piece by piece.
Until there was nothing left.
But then, from somewhere in the distance, there would be a spark. A signal that you could follow.
Peter took another step back. "No."
Tony's jaw tightened and his face fell flat. "Why are you so hell-bent on convincing yourself I don't care?!"
"BECAUSE HOW DO I KNOW YOU ACTUALLY DO?!" Peter burst. "How am I supposed to trust you won't just leave?"
Tony took a step forward, the glass parting for him. "Because I am telling you that I won't."
Peter racked a hand through his hair, and cast his eyes to the ceiling, like he was searching for something. Maybe an escape. "I can't take that chance, Mr. Stark. I can't-" his voice broke "-I can't take anymore. Ok? I don't have it in me."
"Peter. Look at me- look at me." Tony locked eyes with him. "I'm not leaving. Trust me."
The kid just shook his head and took another step back, "I can't. I'm sorry."
"What can I say to make you believe me?"
"Nothing. I just- I don't understand how it could be true. I don't understand how you could care about me."
"Well, believe it, kid, 'cause I do."
"Why?"
"Because I do-"
"Stop. Just Stop! Cut the bullshit. Why. Why do you care?"
Tony took a deep breath. It was that goddamn stupid fucking question again. "You want the truth, Peter? The truth is I don't know." He threw his arms out. "I don't know. I never planned to get so attached to you, but somehow you wormed your way into my… heart-" he struggled to get the cheesy words out. "And now here we are."
Peter blinked, looking like the gears in his brain just came to a halt.
Tony waited expectantly for several heartbeats.
"Kid?" Tony leaned forward and waved, "you who, earth to Parker."
"You don't know…" Peter murmured. "That's… confusing."
"For you and me both, but I can tell you one thing - and I need you to actually listen to me for once in your life," he gave Peter a pointed look, earning a slightly offended frown in return. "I don't care about very many people. Very few actually. I have a tendency to be a more…" he wagged his hands around, finding the right word, "cool, calculated and uncaring kinda guy. But, every so often I get attached to someone. And when that happens, I get attached to them, kid. When you aren't close to very many people, the people you are close to-"
"-become your whole world…" Peter finished, staring at Stark like he just came back from the dead.
Again.
Peter's heart rate picked up. "That can't- you can't-"
"Peter."
"What."
"I need you to hear me, ok?" Tony took a calm and calculated step forward, holding Peter's eyes. "I love you."
Pete's expression fell for a second. A moment passed and anger flooded his expression, mixing with broken tears. "No. Don't fucking try that shit with me, Stark. Cause I know that you fucking don't."
"I love you, Peter, and I want to help you get better."
"No."
"I love you."
"Stop fucking saying that! You don't fucking care about me!"
"I love you."
"FUCKING STOP SAYING THAT FUCKING SHIT. IT'S A FUCKING LIE!"
"I love you, Peter."
Peter's walls cracked and he let out a sob. Backing away, he shook his head. "No. No. You don't. Don't lie to me."
Tony took another step forward. "I love you, Peter."
Peter's eyes darted between Tony's, as if searching for something. "If you love me, why did you leave?"
Tony's chest tightened. "Because I was scared for you." With a heavy sigh, he racked a hand down his face, inhaling sharply. "I never left for good, kid. Look, I admit, I didn't show my love for you enough. I should've reached out, but I didn't want to get too close. I always thought that was for your sake, but maybe that was a lie. Maybe it was for my sake. I don't like getting close to people. Some self destructive shit or something, I don't know."
The kid shook his head, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. "What're you talking about?"
"What I'm trying to say is: I would've come back. I never planned to leave forever, I was always going to keep an eye on you, kid. I just didn't want you to have the suit. I Thought it was making you a little too ballsy and I didn't want you throwing yourself in dangerous situations, ok? I promise you, I didn't leave."
Peter took a moment, gauging Tony's words. Various thoughts and feelings flashed across his face in rapid succession. After a moment, his face landed on a single expression. And much to Tony's frustration, it was one that showed he'd rejected Tony's words.
"That's not love, Mr. Stark, you just feel responsible for me."
Tony shook his head, eyes and expression becoming heavy as memories surfaced from the depth of his mind. "No. That's not it."
"You're confused. You don't understand what you're feeling-"
"NO!" Tony finally snapped, chest heaving. "No, I don't think you understand how hard it was for me to lose you. How hard it was for me to watch you die in my arms. To have you die over and over and over again in my dreams. I don't think you understand how I love you so much, it actually hurts. It tore me apart when you died. Every day, I thought about you. For five years, I thought about you. Because you don't just forget your kid, Peter. That's a kind of pain you can't understand. I don't care if you don't get why I love you, it doesn't fucking change the fact that I do. Nothing - Nothing - Peter, will ever hurt more than watching you suffer."
Peter blinked, mouth hanging agape, any argument having disintegrated. "I…" he didn't understand. He would never get why someone could ever care about him. How someone as good as Tony could ever care about a screwup like him. But… but he did. Peter could see that. Looking into Tony's eyes, he saw… he saw love. Love so deep it sprouted fear, pain, and anger. All of those feelings swirling inside of a man who rarely showed any emotion in the first place. And it was all for Peter. "…I'm sorry…" Peter whispered. His throat burned.
All at once, a dam broke behind Peter's eyes, water filling his eyes. He curled over, hand clutching at his chest. His muscles shrank, pulling him apart from the inside. He couldn't stand, he couldn't move, heart aching so bad it felt like it was shrivelling up. Everything was blurry and his eyes stung. His lungs violently expanded and he gasped.
"You're- you're gonna leave cause I was m-mean." Peter's words were spattered as he gasped in between them.
Tony was by his side in an instant, a hand resting on his shoulder, while the other wiped at the tears on his cheeks. "Hey, hey, I told you I wasn't going to take anything you said to heart. I meant it, so don't you worry about me, kay?" Tony ran a hand through his hair. "I won't leave." He held out his hand, "I pinky promise."
The kid's eyes fixed on Tony's extended pinky. He stared at it, blinking. His breathing was starting to steady once more, Tony's presence relaxing him.
Tony watched as Peter slowly raised his own shaky hand and wrapped his pinky around Tony's.
Peter squeezed weakly. "Pinky promise." He muttered the words to himself like he was being faced with the depth of their meaning. His eyes still watered, but he smiled weakly and finally looked at Tony, "pink promise."
. . .
"How're you doin' today?" Tony popped through the door to see the kid, slumped over and sitting on the edge of his bed. The kid groaned in response. "That good, huh?" Well, I brought you some stir-fry. Heard fresher foods can help with nausea-"
"Do you have pickles?"
Tony paused, setting the tray on the bedside table. "Say what now?"
"Sorry, the stir-fry is, uh, I'm sure it's gonna be great. I just- I'm really craving pickles right now. And, like, a glass of pickle juice."
"You-?" Tony cleared his throat and took a seat beside Peter. "You want a glass of pickle juice?"
The kid sighed and reached for the plate. He poked at a broccoli, face tightening into a look of nausea. "God that sounds good right about now. Uh, not that the stir-fry isn't-"
"FRI, you heard the kid, we should have a jar in the fridge."
"It'll be down in a minute, Boss."
"Awesome, thanks, Mr. Stark. Thanks FRI."
Seeing a few strands out of place, Tony brushed at the kid's hair. "It's day seven, you know."
The kid looked at him, eyes a little wide in surprise. "Seven days," he muttered, "I can't tell if it feels like it's been seven years or seven minutes."
"Still not feeling a hundred percent though?"
The kid shook his head.
"That's ok, sometimes it takes longer than a week. Woulda thought it'd been faster for you."
"Yeah, yeah me too." He shrugged and leaned to the side, letting his head come to rest on Tony's shoulder. Tony's eyes shot up. He couldn't help the wide smile from forming on his face. "But I'm never really going to be through it, am I? It never… it never goes away."
Tony inhaled and wrapped an arm around the kid's shoulder, holding him close, almost scared of the kid pulling away. "It'll be a daily battle, but you're gonna be fine. You're not alone."
The kid sighed - a sigh that meant he didn't fully believe Tony was right.
Tony was getting pretty good at reading the kid if he did say so himself
"Your pickles are here." FRI chimed from the ceiling, followed momentarily by a suit walking into the cell, a small dish of pickles and a glass of pickle juice in hand. "Would you like anything else, Peter?"
The kid eagerly grabbed the food, pulling away from Tony to do so.
It was almost embarrassing how the action made Tony sad.
God he was a sappy mess.
Embarrassing.
"No, this is perfect, thank you FRIDAY." The kid chirped, stuffing a baby pickle in his face.
He paused suddenly and turned his head to face Tony with quizzical eyes, cheeks still full of food.
Tony raised an eyebrow.
"What ever happened to that guy?"
Tony waited a moment for further context. All he got was the kid blinking expectantly at him. "You're gonna have to give me more than that, Pete. I know a lot of 'guys'."
"Oh yeah, sorry, I mean the, uh, the drug dealer guy who… you know, him. What happened to him?"
Oh. That fucker.
Tony had kept his word. He'd hunted that fucker down the night before Peter moved out of his apartment.
And to say the least, Tony wasn't too gentle about it.
He couldn't bring himself to kill the fucker, though - as badly as he may have wanted to.
Stupid moral compass saying murder was wrong.
But he had dragged the fucker to the police's doorstep with enough evidence to lock him away for life.
That was gonna have to be good enough.
Tony would be watching - waiting for the trial.
He was gonna make sure the fucker rotted in prison.
"He's off the streets," Tony answered.
The kid got quiet, face reticent. After a few moments of slow chewing, he nodded and sipped his pickle juice. "Ok… uh…."
"I didn't kill him if that's what you're worried about."
"No! Well, I mean, yeah- I mean no- I mean, I just- I- uh, th-thanks for... anyway, I- the pickles are good."
Tony shook his head, smirking. "You want anything else? Pizza maybe?"
Peter sighed as deep as Tony had ever heard him, eyes becoming forlorn. "I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but… no."
Tony chuckled through his nose, making the kid smile a little. "Maybe we can order it as a celebratory dinner once you've recovered."
The kid's face fell a little and he cast his eyes outside of the cell. "This all feels like some sort of fever dream, you know? I… I can't believe I…" he let out a heavy breath. "I can't believe I became… this."
Tony took a second to watch the kid. "It can happen to anyone."
Peter's eyes flicked back to Tony. "I don't know, Mr, Stark, everyone goes through stuff, but they don't all end up as junkies."
"Not everyone goes through what you have. Sorry to break it to you, kid, but you've gone through more 'stuff' than most seniors. I would've been concerned if you didn't have a reaction to it."
The kid was quiet. After a heartbeat, he shrugged. "I never thought this would be what happened though…" he drifted off, eyes becoming distant.
Was this a good situation? No.
Was Tony happy this was the kid's pain response? No.
But given how much he'd gone through, Tony was just glad Peter hadn't taken a more… permanent action.
Shrugging, Tony poked Peter, bringing his attention back to earth. "You're self-destructive."
Peter blinked like this was the first time he'd ever heard that. His shoulders slumped a little, "huh."
"Don't tell me no one's ever told you that before."
"Uh…"
"I could tell the minute I met you."
The kid frowned, offended. "Hey."
Rolling his eyes, Tony nudged the kid playfully. "Takes one to know one."
"You're not… oh. I guess you are, aren't you?"
Memories of 2011 passed through Tony's mind. "Just a smidge, yeah."
"Well that's not right, you're, like, the best. You should be nicer to yourself." The genuineness of the kid's words made Tony's brain stall. After taking a moment to dispel the effect, Tony opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by the kid. "I'm part of the reason why you're not…"
"Say what now?"
"Here I am telling you you should be nicer to yourself when I've been nothing but an asshole to you." Tony blinked. "I've said so many… I've been so mean. Of course it's hard to be nice to yourself when the people around you are bringing you down. And I did that. I- I'm- I'm the worst, I'm sorry-"
Tony held up a hand. "I'm just gonna cut you off right there." The kid paused, eyes a little red. "First of all, we already went through this: I didn't take any of it to heart. Secondly, you're not the reason, kid. Believe it or not, I had a quite extensive life before meeting you. I've had plenty of years to fuck me up before you came along."
Peter was quiet for a minute. "The people who said all that stuff to you?"
"In part, yes." Tony tilted his head and nodded at Peter. "But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is you staying hydrated. When was the last time you drank some water?"
Peter blinked at the sudden change of subject. "Uh…"
"Pickle juice doesn't count."
Dipping his head, Peter shrugged.
"Gotta stay hydrated, kid. There's a glass of water on the tray." The kid's face twisted in nausea as he looked at it. He opened his mouth, but Tony cut him off. "I don't wanna hear it. I'm not sayin' you have to chug it, but you gotta drink something."
Face souring momentarily, Peter deflated. "Fine."
Tony smirked and slapped the kid on the shoulder, standing up. "I've got a meeting downstairs. I'll be back in a few hours."
"Alright, see you later."
"That water better be gone by the time I'm back or I'm selling your web shooters."
. . .
The meetings sucked, as always. Just a bunch of people in suits arguing with each-other over stupid shit that didn't matter at all. One of those things being Tony's executive decision to give every non-executive titled employee in the company a significant raise. But Tony was Tony and Tony always got what he wanted, so to say the least, everyone's arguments fell on deaf ears.
Not like the company didn't have the profit to spare.
After a couple hours, Tony had reached his limit and walked out the door, calling an abrupt end to the meeting.
He had more pressing matters to attend to.
Like the kid, who, thank Odin, was still there when he got back.
Sure enough, the glass of water was empty.
Noticing Tony come in, Peter waved.
Tony couldn't help but smile a little at how the kid's face had lit up upon seeing him.
It probably wasn't necessary to keep him in the cell anymore, but Tony didn't want to risk him running off to get high. As better as the kid was looking - and he really was looking better - he wasn't through the withdrawals yet.
Which was disappointing, Tony was hoping it would've only taken a week at most, but these things were never truly predictable. Like the doc had said: one size doesn't fit all.
Hopefully he'd be fully recovered in a few days.
All they could do for the moment was wait.
The next hour passed peacefully with no shouting or crying. Aside from the occasional wash of nausea over his face, the kid seemed quite content.
"I used to take xanax"
Peter's voice made Tony look up from his tablet.
The kid was relaxed, chilling on his bed with a Percy Jackson book. His eyes flickered up to meet Tony's. He put his book down, continuing. "After, uh, after Ben died, I… my anxiety got a little… a little much, so a doctor prescribed me some xanax." Tony kept quiet, letting the kid take his time as he paused to think through his next words. "I lost my prescription with that stupid spell. That's… that's why… I originally went to Skeety: for xanax, but… well, you know. I didn't follow the proper dosage… and then I discovered that there were other drugs that worked… that worked better and I tried them. And then… well, you know… It got- it got outta hand."
Welp.
Mystery solved.
Seeing that the kid was done talking, Tony nodded. "That'd do it." He paused, the kid was surprising the hell outta him at every turn. "You have anxiety?"
The kid shifted uncomfortably, but ultimately nodded. "Yeah, I… I don't really know how it's gonna be now. I mean I've been on meds for a few years now, so… I don't really know what to expect from my brain now that I'm gonna be… anyway, I… I don't really know if I have a point. I guess I just wanted to explain how… Not that it's an excuse or anything, but… you know…"
Tony nodded, "I know." God Tony loved this kid so much. "You should be a little easier on yourself, you know. Anxiety isn't easy to live with."
The kid's eyebrows shot up in momentary surprise before knitting together. He leaned forward, head tilted. "Do you have anxiety too?"
Yeah… yeah a little.
"Something like that, yeah."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, that sucks. I hope yours gets better."
"Right back at you."
Giving Tony a small smile of thanks, Peter relaxed into his bed, looking like a weight had been lifted off his chest.
Taking a moment to drink in the sight of the kid looking peaceful and content, Tony smiled lightly and went back to reading, Peter doing the same.
The room took on a new air - one more tranquil. One more comfortable.
Everything was going to be fine.
Peter was going to be just fine.
. . .
"Hey kid, got a chess board if you wanna have a ga-"
The words died on Tony's tongue as his eyes landed on the cell.
It was empty.
No Peter in sight.
Tony's heart kicked into high-gear, hammering at the speed of light in his chest. He felt like it was about to burst out of chest at any second.
The kid was gone.
But FRI hadn't alerted him.
Why would she not alert him that the kid had escaped?
Oh god.
Where was Peter?!
If he'd gone to get high, he could very well OD. His tolerance had likely dropped, so if he took the same dosage he'd been taking before he got clean, it would be too high.
He could die.
What if he was dead already?!
Oh fuck.
Oh god.
Oh shit.
Oh no.
The board game slipped out of Tony's hand, box bursting open and spilling the pieces across the floor.
The king lay on its side.
Game over.
Tony's head swam and he felt himself swaying in place.
"Mr. Stark?"
Tony's eyes snapped back into focus and darted around the room.
No origin of the voice in sight.
Was he hearing things?
Was it the kid's fucking ghost talking to him?
"Up here."
Faster than lightning, Tony's head snapped up. Sure enough, there the kid was, sitting upside-down on the cell ceiling.
Tony crumpled in on himself in relief.
Meanwhile, the kid was staring at him with wide and concerned eyes. "You… you good? Are you having a heart attack?"
Tony shook his head, hand on chest, trying desperately to regain control of his breath. "Chess." He gasped.
The kid dropped down from the ceiling, now facing him from behind the glass. His big doe eyes flicked down to the scattered pieces. "Uh… FRI is he ok?"
"He's fine," She chimed from the ceiling.
Meanwhile through his glasses, FRIDAY muttered in his ear. "You're having a panic attack, would you like me to play your 'soothing whale sounds' playlist?"
Tony shook his head. "No."
"No you're not ok?!" Peter cried, reminding Tony that he was currently watching him. "Tony, what's going on, do you need an ambulance or something?! Obviously something's wrong."
"It's fine, I'm fine." The dizziness started to pass and Tony felt his heart and lungs start to work like normal. He managed to straighten his posture. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."
Peter wasn't taking. Seeing Tony was no longer actively dying, he crossed his arms and nodded his chin, expression sceptical. "Uh huh, yeah, right… If you die, I'm gonna be pissed." Tony's jaw tightened. Peter awkwardly cleared his throat, letting his arms fall back to his sides. "So… chess?"
Tony inhaled and ran a hand down his face. "Yeah."
"I could go for a game of chess."
Still slightly out of breath, Tony nodded. "Yeah, ok."
Setting up the board didn't take very long. Tony wasn't sure if he'd have to teach the kid the game, but it turned out Peter knew what he was doing. Within minutes, everything was laid out accordingly and the two boys settled comfortably at the table.
Tony waited for the kid to make the first move.
He couldn't help but smile a little at the crinkling of Peter's eyes as he worked through his first move.
That reminded Tony. "If I give you your phone back, do you promise to not report me for kidnapping you?"
The kid paused mid-move of his pawn, and looked up. He blinked. "Oh yeah, I guess I would have grounds for that, wouldn't I?"
"Don't tell me I just gave you the idea."
The kid sat back, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He shook his head. "I won't. Pinky promise."
Taking a moment to squint suspiciously at Peter - and earning an eye roll for it - Tony protruded the device from his pocket and extended it towards the kid.
The kid hesitated for a moment, something falling in his face. He took it and flicked to 'notifications'.
There was nothing there.
Tony saw the heaviness fall onto the kid.
Pulling up his watch, Tony tapped at the face.
The kid's phone dinged.
Your move again.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Peter's mouth and he set his phone aside, looking up at Tony. He nodded and took his turn.
A few turns passed. The kid was holding up pretty well if Tony did say so himself.
"How's the feet?"
"Hm?" The kid blinked at him for a moment. "Oh right, yeah, they're fine. I'm fine. The cuts weren't too bad to begin with."
Tony nodded. He'd had a hell of a time convincing the kid to let him patch him up. "Good."
"Thanks, by the way, for patching me up."
Tony shrugged. "That's what loved ones do for each-other."
The kid's fingers stalled as he went to move his bishop. His eyes flickered to Tony's. He shifted uncomfortably and finished his move.
Another three turns passed before the kid spoke.
"My loved ones tend to die. You… you sure you wanna call yourself that?"
Yeah, Tony was fucking sure. "More sure than I am that Steve Rogers was an ass."
The kid exhaled in amusement.
His eyes dipped and he toyed with his queen.
"You're a piece of my world, kid," Tony murmured gently. "And if you'll let me, I'd like to be a piece of yours."
"…"
"Is that alright?"
"Uh… uh… I- you- …." Peter finally came back to earth and shrugged, putting his queen to a position of offence. "Iguessifyoureallywanttobe," he murmured quietly, barely clearly enough to understand.
But Tony heard him clear as day.
And it was enough.
It was more than enough.
It was all Tony needed.
