Prompt: Peter and Tony are kidnapped

"Listen to me, I'm not going to do anything with him here."

The voice was so close, and Peter flinched, trying to turn his head and find the source. He knew that voice…knew the person behind it. But his brain was a pile of mush and he couldn't make any kind of connections…could only struggle to turn his head or move his fingers or toes, none of which seemed to be cooperating.

"Let him go. I'll stay. I'll do whatever you want but you have to let him go." The voice was soft and reasonable, and Peter searched his mind for why or how or when…any kind of explanation to what was happening. He couldn't remember…couldn't force his brain to bring up any images or thoughts. He was…laying down. Everything hurt. His whole body ached. Specifically his chest. Something in his chest hurt so bad and he managed a noise…just a groan, but the voice spoke again.

"Just…leave him here. We can go somewhere else and…and if you just let me signal to the team they can pick him up and I'll…"

The next noise wasn't a voice. It was a strange, dull thwack, and then a grunt. Someone spitting.

"He's waking up, boss." He didn't know who that was, but footsteps approached and something sharp stabbed him in the arm, making him flinch and release a soft, pained whine.

"Hey! What are you giving him? He's just a kid! Leave him…"

Another noise. More grunting. More yelling. But Peter felt heat rush over him and that left him drained and exhausted, so against his will he found himself in the darkness once more.

"Underoos? Come on…come on, Spiderling. Come on. Open your eyes…please kid, you have to work with me!" A voice hissed, a hand tapping his face. Not hard…not slapping him. But they were insistent, and Peter found himself suddenly able to open his eyes. "Hey! Good….hey, kid…you with me?"

"Ma…Mssr…" His mouth opened, making strange noises, but Peter couldn't manage the words he was trying to find.

"You're on some heavy shit, kid. But you're going to be fine. Okay? You're fine. Just…stay awake."

Awake. He needed to stay awake. Doing his best to keep his eyes open, Peter nodded, swallowing hard and flinching at his dry mouth. Bringing a shaky hand up, he tried to touch his head…it ached and throbbed and he wanted to move but he could barely bring his hand up, much less coordinate his whole body.

Why was he with Mr. Stark?

He hadn't seen Mr. Stark in…in months? At least three. The man had checked in a few times, sending him a text to make sure the suit was working okay, but that was about it. "Kid? Stay with me," Mr. Stark urged again, and Peter blinked, surprised to find his eyes had drifted shut.

"Mkay."

A door opened again, and Mr. Stark shifted, standing up. Peter was…he was on the floor, he realized. Why was he lying on the floor? Why was he so cold? The footsteps approached, and another door opened with a painfully loud creak. "Are you ready to cooperate?"

"I already told you. I'm not doing anything with him here. Let him go and…"

A grunt filled the room, and Mr. Stark was thrown backwards against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting, and for the first time Peter was able to focus on his face. On the bruises. They'd hit him…they'd hurt Mr. Stark! Peter pressed a hand to the ground, trying to push himself up. He had to save Mr. Stark! He had powers and Mr. Stark didn't have his suit and…

A foot slammed into his side, sending him sprawling, a choked off scream filling the air, and it took him a minute to realize that it was him…that he was the one screaming. He bit down hard on his lip, fighting a sob at the burning in his chest that only hurt more. "Stay down, you little shit," the gruff voice warned, pressing a foot to his chest and pinning him to the floor.

"Leave him alone! He's just a kid! Hey! I'm the one you wanted!"

Why had they wanted Mr. Stark? Why didn't Mr. Stark just stay quiet? The questions swirled around in his mind, but then the foot pulled back again, hitting him right in the side where the pain had been growing, and Peter felt himself losing the fight with unconsciousness.

When he woke again, he was somewhere different…or…something was different. He was still cold. His chest still hurt, and he brought a hand up to press against the place where the pain was the worst. "Easy…easy Underoos. You're okay." Mr. Stark's voice was hoarse, and if Peter hadn't known any better, he would have said the many had been crying. It took him a moment to figure out why he felt different…he was being held. Mr. Stark had pulled him into his lap, head resting on his shoulder like he was a toddler, and was rocking him back and forth.

"You're okay. It's going to be okay." The man's hand rubbed up and down his back before moving up to his head and running gently through his curls. "Pete? You with me?"

Mr. Stark looked different. His face was black and blue, one eye swollen almost shut, and he had a cut on the side of his head that made his hair darker with blood. The room they were in was a little lighter than before, and when Peter looked up at the window high on the wall, covered in bars, he could see the sun.

"Peter? Kid, c'mon. Talk to me. Please, kiddo…"

"Wha…what time is it?" he asked, surprised that his mouth was working this time, forming the words a little easier.

"Sun's coming up, so maybe seven?"

It was strange, the soft way that Mr. Stark spoke to him, and the way that his fingers ran through his hair, gently working out tangles. Strange…but nice. He had assumed that Mr. Stark was upset with him for turning down his offer to join the Avengers. Or…if not upset, at least a little put out. But now, the man looked afraid. Was he afraid for Peter?

"Do you remember what happened?"

Peter shook his head. He couldn't remember anything except for this room…and maybe patrolling. There was no in-between.

"You were out patrolling and these guys managed to take you down using some kind of toxin…I'm not sure what. They've been keeping you drugged but I haven't seen them in a few hours. How do you feel?"

"My chest hurts." Usually he would have tried to downplay it, but his heart was pounding uncomfortably, making breathing harder.

"They were kicking you…" Mr. Stark trailed off, sounding as though just the words hurt him, and then he pressed two fingers to Peter's throat. "It sounds like your heart rate is slowing down a little. That might help." He rubbed his hand vigorously up and down Peter's arm as if trying to warm him up. "I think they might have broken one of your ribs."

"Where are we?"

"I don't know, buddy. I came looking for you and…" He trailed off for a moment, sighing and shifting so that Peter's head rested more securely on his arm. "It was a trap. You were unconscious. They'd dropped you by the river but when I got to you…I guess they drugged me too."

The river…Peter didn't remember that. "Are you okay?" he asked, considering sitting up and then deciding against it. Mr. Stark was warm and he desperately wanted to be warm.

Mr. Stark huffed out a laugh. "I'm fine, Pete."

It wasn't long before the door opened again, and Mr. Stark tensed, his arms tightening around Peter, a hand pressing his head to Mr. Stark's shoulder. "You ready to cooperate, Stark?"

"I already told you, I…"

Mr. Stark was cut off when an arm grabbed Peter's, and, thinking fast, Peter let himself go limp as though he were asleep.

"Hey! Get off him!" Mr. Stark scrambled to get up, but something must have stopped him. A gun?

"How about we up the ante here? Give you an incentive to work with us." Something cold pressed to the side of his head, and Peter knew instinctively what it was. "I tried playing nice. But I'm done. You tell us what we want to know or I blow Spider-Man's brain's out. What do you say?"

"If you hurt my kid…"

"You have until I get to one."

"I swear, I'll give you whatever you want but you have to…"

"Three…"

"If you hurt him I'll…"

"Two…"

Peter decided that two was far enough and, pulling from every ounce of energy he had left, he opened his eyes and shot an arm out, catching the man's wrist and ducking just a little as the sound of a gunshot made his ears ring. He saw Mr. Stark's eyes go wide, mouth open in what Peter assumed was a scream, but he couldn't hear anything over the ringing in his own ears.

It didn't matter. He had to get them out of this.

Twisting on instinct, Peter pulled back his fist and, ignoring the throbbing in his side, he hit the man who had been holding him hard enough that he went down, then ducked again, twisting out of the way as more gunfire filled the air. Pushing off the ground hard, he landed sideways on the wall, them jumped again, tackling the second armed man, bringing back a fist and knocking him out.

His senses screamed at him and he rolled, flinching when he rolled around to face the second man, now bleeding from bullet wounds to his chest. A third man tracked him with a huge gun and Peter lept, clinging to the ceiling, then the wall, then finally landed behind the man's back, wrapping an arm around his throat. Mr. Stark jumped up then, a fist slamming into the man's face, then, as Peter tightened his grip on the man's throat, Mr. Stark tackled the fourth man as he came into the room, wrestling the gun away and bringing the barrel down on the man's face until he was still.

The man in Peter's grip went slack and Peter dropped him, watching as he fell to the floor, then turned to Mr. Stark who was hurrying toward him, a hand pressed to the side of Peter's head. His ears still rang too loudly for him to hear, but Mr. Stark's hand came back bloody, and he began to speak so quickly that Peter couldn't read his lips.

Peter shook his head, swaying a little, but staying on his feet, and Mr. Stark hurried to steady him. After a moment, Mr. Stark tapped on his arm, and it only took Peter a second to catch on.

"Morse code?"

Peter nodded, then put his hand on Mr. Stark's shoulder.

"Can't hear."

"Bullet grazed you. Close to your ear." Mr. Stark tapped out, then rubbed a hand over Peter's arm.

"Can we leave?" Peter tapped, swallowing hard and wishing more than anything for a cup of water.

Mr. Stark smiled a little then, squeezing Peter's shoulder. "Let's go."