Really long hiatus—but my husband and I had our first baby in the midst of a pandemic! This chapter is a special request, and I know the characters wouldn't normally be together in the normal timeline. I hope you enjoy!
Peter Parker's day had gone sour at breakfast.
He had been standing over the kitchen sink, scarfing down his bowl of cereal when he froze, spoon halfway to his lips. The police sketch flashed on the screen, the newscaster spoke, and a faint ringing began to sound in his ears.
It was the mugger from the previous night's patrol. The victim, a balding middle-aged man with dark rimmed glasses, had gasped as blood began to stain his white dress shirt. The shot had entered high in his abdomen, and Peter had felt cold at the amount of blood. Knowing there wasn't much time, Peter had picked up the man and swung to the nearest hospital. He hadn't stuck around after the team of doctors and nurses swarmed, but he hoped the man had made it through surgery. He had even planned to stop by the hospital and ask about him.
The mugger had dashed off into the night. By the time Peter made it home, exhausted and covered in blood that wasn't his, he had barely remembered.
"…on the lookout for this man in connection to two murders. A young mother and her five-year-old were shot last night as they were entering their vehicle," the newscaster said solemnly. "A witness provided this description, and police are working the case as…"
…
Tony Stark was many things, but punctual was not one of them. It surprised him that the kid was running late, though, since Peter was usually wandering around outside of the Tower like a hobo at least an hour before their training sessions started.
Tony expected his usual, bubbly, "hi, Mr. Stark," greeting when Peter stepped out of the elevator and entered the Training Room. He wasn't prepared for the tense set of his shoulders and the haunted look in his eyes.
Peter briefly made eye contact before hefting his backpack strap up on his shoulder and hurrying to the locker room to get changed.
Tony felt his brow furrow as he turned and looked at Steve, who was calmly wrapping his hands for sparring.
"Did I miss something, Cap?" Tony asked, bewilderment evident in his tone.
"He's a kid, Tony," Steve answered easily, fiddling with the wrap before lifting his eyes to look at the smaller man. "He's probably not going to just come out and say it. You may have to ask him."
Tony made a face. "Ugh," he said. "Purposefully initiate human contact? I thought you knew me better than that by now."
"You put on quite the show," Steve said, standing up and clapping Tony on the shoulder. "But we all know that you're a softie."
Tony made a show of shrugging off the hand as he fought back a smile. He remembered a time when every word out of his mouth rubbed Cap the wrong way, and vice versa. The team had come a long way, and while he wouldn't be calling for a group hug anytime soon, he was proud of them.
The bright overhead lights were a sharp contrast to the dark skyline outside of the window. Night had fallen over the city, leaving the windows of skyscrapers dotting their view. If he wandered close enough to the window to look down at the streets below, Tony knew he would see a patchwork of red brake lights and white headlights.
See, Pep? I'm not without culture, I can see the art in everyday things.
"Just us tonight?" Steve asked, glancing toward the locker room doors.
"Yeah," Tony said. "I think Nat is planning to come down and do some shooting, but I have no idea when she'll make her appearance."
"I should join her when she does," Steve said thoughtfully. "I've been trying to improve with the bow, but I keep breaking the string."
Tony blinked at him and tried not to laugh. "Wow, what a terrible weight that must be."
"Shut up, Stark," Steve said, no malice in his voice.
"I thought you knew me better than that," Tony challenged. Now that smile did make it to his face, so he turned away and muttered, "what is taking him so long?"
Just as he was about to go check on Peter, the younger man burst out of the locker room with a more characteristic smile. The strain still showed around his eyes, but Tony was glad to see the smile.
Steve tossed Peter a training staff and moved onto the mat.
"How was your day, Peter?" Steve kept his tone relaxed as they began to run through some warm-up sequences.
"Fine," Peter said, then added, "sorry, school was annoying today."
"Bored again?" Tony asked, scowling as he reached down to touch his toes.
One of these days.
"Yeah," Peter grunted as he ducked a swipe from Steve. "Well, no. Not really. I guess it was just a long day."
Tony's curiosity got the better of him. "Come on, kid," he prodded. "It's got to be more than that. Rogers usually has to hit you with that stick multiple times to wipe the smile off your face."
Tony continued stretching and listened to the thwacks as they fought in silence. He turned his attention to Peter as he pulled his right arm across his chest, wincing as the joint protested. Was he a little salty that these two super-powered people currently swinging sticks at each other walked off major injuries like splinters? Absurd. He would never be so self-centered.
Peter fought with a quiet desperation that didn't escape either of the older Avengers. Steve's brow was furrowed and he was pulling his punches, darting glances at Tony as Peter swung harder and harder.
Tony couldn't look away. Part of him hoped that Peter just needed to get out some frustration. He remembered being a teenager—there were days where he wanted to punch his way through a brick wall—but he had never seen Peter like this.
Thwack, thwack, thwack, crunch.
Peter's staff came down with crushing force on Steve's hand, and the supersoldier yelped.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I—" Peter stammered and dropped his training staff before sprinting out of the room.
Steve shook his hand out roughly, looking after the kid as the door to the hall swung closed.
"What the hell was that about?" He asked, voice rough with pain.
"Did he just fucking break your hand?" Tony asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
Steve grunted, but Tony knew it was an affirmative.
"Go see what's going on with him," Steve said, the anger draining out of his voice. It was replaced with the genuine care that Cap had for every member of his team—even those who had recently injured him. "I'm going to go get some ice."
"Maybe drop in and see Bruce," Tony said as he walked toward the doors. "He puts me back together at least once a week."
…
Peter sat with his back against the wall. His face felt hot with shame and embarrassment, and his body shook with pent up emotion. He rested his forehead on his knees as bit back the stinging behind his eyes. His throat felt tight and his stomach burned.
Footsteps came closer and his mentor slid down the wall to sit beside him.
"Do you want to tell me what's going on?"
Peter shook his head, his throat getting tighter. He couldn't look up.
"It's okay if you don't, I just know there's something eating at you."
The hallway was silent for a moment.
"I couldn't save them," Peter said, his voice scratchy. "A mother and her baby. They were killed by a guy I could've stopped. I—I was right there, but I took the guy he shot to the hospital."
Peter paused and couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore.
"He killed them, Mr. Stark, and it's my fault."
Tony was silent.
Peter felt a warm hand on his shoulder and looked up at the touch.
"I'm supposed to be a hero," Peter said, his voice small and broken.
"I wish I could tell you this gets easier," Tony said quietly. "But it hasn't gotten easier for me. You can't be everywhere at once, and you can't save every person who needs saving."
"I wish I didn't feel like this," Peter said. He felt a tiny weight lift from his mind. At least he wasn't alone.
"I'm glad that you do," Tony said, pushing himself to his feet and offering Peter a hand. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be…" he searched for the word, "…you."
Peter huffed out a little breath that might have been a sob. "I'm sorry that I reacted the way that I did."
Tony chuckled and pulled the younger man to his feet, "Everyone wants to take their anger out on Cap sometimes. He's too damn righteous. You're just one of the only ones who can actually hurt him."
Peter's eyes widened.
"Oh, don't worry," Tony said. "He's not mad—like I said, he'll probably be apologizing to you for not being in tune with your feelings or some bullshit like that—and he'll be as good as new by this time tomorrow."
"Thank you, Mr. Stark," Peter said, the beginning of a peaceful feeling settling over him.
"No problem, kid."
