Endgame came out nearly two years ago... Yet here I am, appreciating a dynamic we're doubtfully going to see again. I'm so sour about it that I haven't actually watched it or Infinity War. One day. Until then, they're fine and alive in my mind.
This is actually the longest story I've written in a while, as well as my first Marvel one. It normally takes me a long time to finish up a fic, but I was able to blow straight through this. I hope that's a good thing.
Thanks to Kim for beta-reading this for me, and thank you for reading. I appreciate you.
Every single alarm installed in Peter's suit should've been going off, but they were eerily silent.
He'd been swinging around Central Park when he came across an older man attempting to rob a young couple. Before anyone could get hurt, Spider-Man swiftly swooped in. His arrival allowed the two women to escape, but their disappearance only changed the mugger's target.
Peter could've easily overpowered him. He should've, but he let the guy try. The fight had been embarrassingly in his favor, and watching his attempts was somewhat entertaining.
Just when he was about to wrap things up, Peter realized the culprit had a friend. Taking on multiple people at once normally wasn't a problem for him, but the new addition had something he really shouldn't have had.
Chitauri technology.
By the time Peter realized what their weapon was capable of, it was too late. The surprise attack sent him hurtling towards one of New York's many frozen lakes.
Spider-Man knew what was behind him, so he immediately turned to his web shooters. Keeping him from colliding with concrete (or ice) was one of their many purposes.
They should've worked. They didn't.
In dire situations, Karen usually spoke up with some live-saving advice. Peter hoped she would chime in, but her voice never interrupted the silence. Every vital piece of his suit seemed to be dysfunctional.
"Karen! If you're there, alert Mr. Stark that—" Those few rushed words were all he had time for. He managed a quick breath in before he crashed through a thin layer of ice, leading him straight into a frigid body of water.
The internal heaters should've ramped up the moment he hit the water, but like his web shooters, they didn't activate.
His special abilities gave him a lot of advantages, but they still had their downsides. One of the most detrimental issues for him was heightened senses. After learning about the painful sensitivities that came with being Spider-Man, Tony fully optimized his suit. Not only did it keep sounds from becoming overpowering, but it helped him regulate his temperature. Before his suit was upgraded, minor heat waves and mild winters drastically slowed him down.
Peter had fought through some tough snowstorms, but they were nothing compared to this. He'd only been submerged for a couple of seconds, but an excruciating burning sensation had already spread through his entire body.
It was the worst pain he'd ever felt.
A terrifying series of thoughts followed— How was he supposed to get out of this? He tried calling for help, but he doubted Karen was able to push the alert through. If it was earlier in the day, someone might've noticed his fall, but it was nearly eleven at night. The only people around were the two offenders that tossed him in.
If he wanted to survive, Peter knew he had to get it together. Nobody was going to come and save him. The only person that could get him out of this situation was himself.
Looking up, he could see he wasn't too far from the top. His panicked brain and racing heart desperately wanted his attention, but he forced himself to solely focus on his next move. The longer he stayed under, the less likely he'd ever resurface. He couldn't waste a single moment.
As he raised his hands, an agonizing rush of pain ripped through his arms. The urge to scream filled his lungs, but simply opening his mouth would've cost him too much. He had no way of releasing any of the hurt built up inside him.
A small piece of him didn't want to fight. It was a rotten and unacceptable idea, but one push towards the surface took nearly all of his remaining energy. Only, Aunt May was at their apartment, waiting for him to come home. Mr. Stark was at the tower, where Peter was expected to be later in the week.
He wouldn't – couldn't – let his aunt or mentor lose another person they cared about.
With his loved ones glued to his mind, Peter forced himself to continue swimming. It was like the fallen building all over again. His body was struggling to hang on, but his determination refused to back down. His friends and family needed him.
When he finally reached the top, Peter immediately inhaled.
He did it. He actually did it.
As his lungs played a frantic game of catch up, he became aware of the intense shivering affecting all of his limbs. Between that and the bitter cold, Peter was insanely lucky he was still coherent.
In an effort to stay afloat, Peter swung his arms out onto the ice. He wasn't strong enough to stop himself from crying out. The motion was necessary, but it hurt. After years of defending his city, he'd naively thought he was used to physical trauma. He couldn't have been more wrong.
Even moving his eyes hurt, but Peter didn't have a choice. Checking his surroundings was another necessity. He couldn't see too far ahead, but the two men he'd fought were nowhere in sight. Peter doubted they stuck around. They probably figured that once Spider-Man hit the water, he was done for.
If his muscles weren't screaming in agony, Peter might've laughed. People always underestimated him.
While drowning wasn't a concern anymore, he still wasn't in the clear. He still needed to get out of the water. As long as some of his body was submerged, his condition would only worsen. Peter just… didn't know where to begin. Although his respiratory system was given plenty of time, he still felt like he wasn't getting enough air. Was it anxiety or something else? Mr. Stark taught him a lot about surviving dangerous and unlikely events, but falling into a frozen lake? It never crossed their agenda.
His mentor's lessons brought him back to his suit's AI. "K-Karen?" Saying her name took a humiliating amount of strength.
He wasn't expecting a response, but her voice suddenly filled his ears. His relief ended up being incredibly short-lived. Everything she said was jumbled up. Peter couldn't make out a single word, up until she said Stark.
Had she been able to alert him?
Peter didn't have to guess. Mr. Stark wasn't in sight, but he could faintly hear the sound of Iron Man's repulsors. He wouldn't have to fight alone anymore.
Within a minute, his mentor landed in front of him. "Kid, what the hell happened?" Mr. Stark's question was laced with concern. If Peter wasn't numb in nearly every possible way, he would've felt guilty.
By the time Peter came up with an answer, Tony had already pulled him out of the water. Escaping only made the burning intensify. He managed to keep himself from shouting, but his grief simply surfaced in a different way. Along with his breathing becoming even shakier, tears began sliding down his cheeks.
Peter wished it was a one-time thing, but intense situations always made him emotional. It was another disadvantage that came from being bitten. Before he got his powers, he only cried when something really terrible happened. After, he started tearing up every time he got overwhelmed.
Not only was it exhausting, but it was embarrassing. He couldn't tell everyone the truth. They just thought he was overly sensitive. On more than one occasion, it happened at school. During good days, Flash liked to remind him.
Peter couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Stark would think less of him for it. He knew it sounded ridiculous – especially since Tony did know the truth – but he couldn't get himself to throw the possibility away. Although their relationship was in a good place, Peter could still see his mentor reprimanding him. He gave the first bad guy way too much leeway, and the baby monitor protocol would let Tony see it.
What if Mr. Stark took his suit away again? Peter wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it. The last time he lost it, he was nearly crushed to death.
Crime-fighting wasn't just something he could give up. Spider-Man had the ability to save people. If he tucked his powers away, he'd be on the same level as a bystander.
The one time he did that, Uncle Ben lost his life. Peter wouldn't let that happen to anyone else, suit or no suit.
Peter's thoughts could've gone on and on, but his internal turmoil was interrupted by Tony removing his mask. "—Pete? Kid, come on. Talk to me." He expected to hear anger, but Mr. Stark's voice had only gotten softer and more alarmed. How long had Tony been trying to grab his attention?
It had to have been at least a minute or two, as they were no longer hovering above the lake. Peter was propped up against a tree a few feet away. Mr. Stark was crouching in front of him, his Iron Man suit standing tall behind them.
As he scanned his mentor's face, all Peter could see was fear. His stomach twisted. He did that.
"I— I'm o-okay." He forced the quiet words out between shivers and sniffles. His teeth were beginning to chatter too, but he managed to add in, "I'll be… o-okay."
With Mr. Stark disrupting his overthinking, Peter lost the one distraction he had against the cold. He thought his limbs were burning before, but the loss of adrenaline made it ten times worse. Every shiver brought another surge of agonizing fire.
If Tony was expecting him to stand, he would be waiting a long time.
"Yeah? Are your lips normally blue?" Mr. Stark sarcastically remarked, shaking his head as he brought a careful hand to Peter's cheek. The sudden heat was almost too much, but he leaned towards it anyway. Tony's lips curved into a frown, his thumb moving to wipe away some of his fallen tears.
It was such a kind thing to do, and Peter hadn't been anticipating it. Somewhat ironically, the action only increased his crying.
For a second, Tony reminded him of a parent. He could've sent out an empty suit to get him. Instead, he was there, doing his best to help and comfort him. It was unbelievably unexpected.
"Hey, hey—" And now Tony was clearly trying to calm him down, using a tone he was only used to hearing from Aunt May. "The ambulance is almost here, kiddo. I didn't want to risk flying you all the way back." Mr. Stark didn't seem to realize what was making him emotional, but he was okay with that.
A gentle hand was moved to his hair. Mr. Stark brushed his fingers through it, then glanced to his left. Peter didn't have to look; he couldn't hear any sirens.
"I— I kn-know." The stuttering was another thing that shouldn't have been embarrassing, but was. If his temperature was anywhere near normal, his cheeks would've turned red. "I just— I wasn't s-sure if you were… c-coming."
Tony shook his head again, slight confusion settling over his features. "Your suit went offline in the middle of Central Park. I'd consider that cause for concern."
So Karen definitely hadn't been the reason Mr. Stark showed up. The two men he'd been fighting managed to fully disable his suit. It explained why his web shooters and heaters didn't work.
"You know I still keep up with you, right?" Tony continued, slowly moving his hair back again. It was surprisingly comforting. "Just in case. You're never alone out here, kid."
A few years ago, he never would've believed the Tony Stark would someday care about him. Even right then, Peter couldn't quite comprehend it. How did he end up with someone so awesome on his side?
Peter wanted to respond, but he couldn't get his trembling lips to open again. He knew moving his arms would cause an extreme amount of discomfort, but Peter decided it would be worth it. Leaning forward just enough, he loosely wrapped them around his mentor.
By the time he realized his touch would get the other wet, Tony had already returned the gesture. The hand in his hair stayed in place, but the other one moved to rub circles into his back.
He was still shivering, but the contact did ease away some of the cold. Unlike their surroundings, Tony was warm. His mentor easily caught on. "Hold on—" After changing their positions, Peter ended up huddled against his chest, Tony's arms wrapped tightly around him.
It made a big difference. With exhaustion suddenly sweeping over him, he let his eyes flicker shut.
Only seconds later, the sound of sirens obliterated the silence. Peter went right back to being fully alert. It was outrageously loud, causing him to involuntarily wince.
Mr. Stark unraveled his arms. A sharp shiver travelled up Peter's spine, and a few new tears fell. He was starting to feel like he was never going to be warm again. Was that possible?
Before his worries could take over, Tony yet again distracted him by resting his hands against his ears. His eyes opened, his mind tired and confused.
He didn't have to say anything. His mentor knew the problem without a single word. Was this what having a dad was like? When did Mr. Stark start reminding him more of Aunt May and less of his school teachers?
As soon as someone stepped out of the ambulance, the frustration Peter expected earlier jumped out. "Hey! If I call about Spider-Man, don't use the damn sirens!" He was muffled, but Peter could tell he was yelling.
Dr. Banner came into view, along with someone Peter didn't recognize. His eyes bounced around for his mask, but he knew it was unnecessary. Both of the men he knew must've trusted the stranger. They wouldn't willingly put him in harm's way.
With the sirens off, Tony removed his hands from his ears. His arms ended up underneath Peter's back and knees, allowing Mr. Stark to hold onto him as he got up.
Peter wouldn't have to stand.
"I'm sorry, Peter. I completely forgot," Bruce added quietly, visibly apologetic.
Peter offered a small smile, despite his chattering teeth. "It's o-okay." Tony was probably more upset about it than he was. He didn't expect Bruce – or any of the Avengers, for that matter – to remember his weaknesses.
When they got to the back of the ambulance, Peter was laid on what he figured to be a stretcher. It looked a lot more like a narrow bed on wheels. The guy he didn't know disappeared, which meant he had to be the driver.
After the doors closed, Mr. Stark remained standing beside him, while Dr. Banner worked around him.
"Hypothermia usually takes a while to settle in. I'm worried your abilities may alter that," Dr. Banner reported. Peter could hear his worry. "But your shivering is actually a good sign. In moderate to severe cases, that goes away."
He managed a nod. If he only had mild hypothermia, how painful was moderate or severe? If Mr. Stark hadn't decided to show up…
As Dr. Banner began working to remove his suit, Peter started crying all over again. Truthfully, Peter didn't know if he'd ever stopped. Bruce didn't seem to take notice, but Tony did.
"Are you hurt anywhere else, Pete?" He asked, his concern yet again present. Peter moved his head, peering up at him.
Now that he was somewhere safe, he was able to feel guilty.
"I-I'm sorry," he choked out, just as his suit was replaced with two thick thermal blankets.
Mr. Stark only waved him off. "Don't worry about it. I'll make you a new one." It took Peter a moment to understand what he was talking about. The suit. He hadn't even thought about his suit being destroyed, despite it happening right in front of him. How much would it cost to replace?
While Dr. Banner began attaching sensors to his skin, Peter shook his head. "No. For… ev-everything." He didn't know a better way to phrase it.
What had Mr. Stark been doing before he arrived? Maybe working in his lab. Spending some quality time with Pepper. Possibly in one of his many meetings— He couldn't remember the time.
Tony sat down on the cushioned bench next to him. Peter watched him, even though he was failing to contain his tears. He wanted the Avengers to treat him like an adult. Crying his eyes out wasn't going to help his case, even if it was somewhat warranted.
He was waiting for a response, but Mr. Stark wasn't saying anything. His mentor was looking down, which meant Peter couldn't even read his face. What was he thinking? Dr. Banner then placed a warm compress over his neck. His shivers were already starting to lessen.
Eventually, the tears slowed down, and another wave of fatigue hit him. He still needed to know what Tony wanted to say, so he forced his heavy eyelids to stay open.
After a low sigh, Dr. Banner was the first to speak. "You went through a lot today. I would get some rest." Peter glanced over at him, but Bruce was too busy eyeing Tony to notice.
Did apologizing actually make things worse?
His uneasiness wasn't enough to keep him awake. As soon as Peter let his eyes drift shut, he knew it would be a while before he opened them again. Right before he fell asleep, he could hear Dr. Banner ask, "Tony, what's on your mind?"
After being cold for so long, Peter was surprised when he woke up warm. His limbs were still aching, but they'd definitely improved. Breathing didn't hurt anymore.
Without opening his eyes, he investigated his surroundings. Somewhere to the left of him, a machine was beeping intermittently. On the other side of the room, Peter could hear two separate voices. Predictably, they belonged to the adults who saved his life. Even with his enhanced hearing, he wasn't able to make out what they were saying. They were both whispering, clearly believing Peter was still asleep.
Thinking he had enough strength to move, Peter pressed his hands against the bed, then attempted to sit up. He managed to get to the position he wanted, but not without some of the pain returning.
His breath barely hitched, but Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner immediately paused their conversation. The spike of anxiety the silence produced was almost worse than the aching. After upsetting Tony during their last conversation, Peter didn't want to cause any more trouble.
He'd failed within seconds.
Before he knew it, both of them were hovering over him. "Morning Pete!" Tony chirped. "Considering what you went through, I know you weren't just trying to sneak out." The slight look of worry on his face didn't quite match his tone. Peter decided it wasn't a bad thing, considering it was close to his usual tenor. Maybe they were still okay.
"What? Me? I wouldn't dream of it," Peter innocently quipped. His voice was still unsteady, but he wasn't stuttering. He considered it a win. "How long have I been out?"
From how he felt, Peter figured he'd slept for a while. Dr. Banner confirmed his theory. "More than half the day, but you did wake up a couple times." With scrunched eyebrows, Peter sifted through his memories. The last thing he remembered was Bruce speaking to Mr. Stark in the ambulance.
Noting Peter's confusion, Dr. Banner swiftly added "You were pretty out of it. I figured you wouldn't remember."
Having a gap in his timeline definitely didn't help his nerves. What if he said something ignorant? What if he made things with Mr. Stark worse? What if—
"Kid, you weren't up that long," Tony assured him. He knew exactly what Peter needed to hear. "The blankets didn't end up being enough."
As a small frown formed across his lips, Mr. Stark fondly rolled his eyes before pointing towards a powered down machine. "Bruce just gave you…" Tony thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "Humidified air. Worked like a charm."
Peter definitely didn't remember wearing an oxygen mask. Considering how uncomfortable he'd been earlier, having zero memories of it was probably a good thing.
"So… I'm going to be okay?" Of course he would be – Tony and Bruce would be freaking out otherwise – but he still wanted a verbal confirmation. The memories of what happened were still stuck in his head, and the injuries they left behind wouldn't let him forget them.
Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner shared a silent look. Another wave of panic enveloped his chest and throat. Why weren't they giving him an answer? Were they holding something back? Was something still wrong?
After popping out of his short trance, Dr. Banner moved and raised the top half of the bed. Once it clicked, he carefully pushed Peter's shoulder until his back hit the mattress. "You're going to be just fine," Bruce consoled. Peter's lungs released a long, shaky breath of relief. "I'll check up on you later. Stay put."
As soon as Bruce was out of the room, Peter's anxiety bubbled over. "Are you mad at me?" He blurted, hating how childish the question made him sound.
With a short sigh, Tony turned, walking away from the bed. Peter watched as he traveled to the other side of the room, his hand eventually grabbing the armrest of a cushioned desk chair. After dragging it over, he sat down, wiping his hands over his face.
Mr. Stark looked as drained as Peter felt. He doubted Tony got any rest since the rescue. Maybe it was his turn to be concerned.
After a dreadfully long moment, Tony cleared his throat. "You apologized for everything," he stated. Peter remembered his confession, and he still (mostly) agreed with it. His guilt hadn't gone anywhere.
"What exactly did you mean by 'everything'?"
Peter glanced down, focusing in on the mound of blankets surrounding him. "I don't know." If Tony hadn't been sitting right next to him, he doubtfully would've heard him.
"I think you do," Mr. Stark easily countered, his voice slightly clipped.
Running away would be a highly immature (and completely impossible) response, but that didn't stop Peter from thinking about it. Their discussion was dangerously close to becoming an argument. Peter knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't be able to handle it.
Another unforgiving shiver caught him off-guard. Peter momentarily squeezed his eyes shut. As he attempted to breathe his way past it, Tony leaned forward, taking the bed down a couple notches. Once it was secure, he made sure everything from below Peter's neck was covered up.
"Thanks," Peter mumbled. He still didn't want to explain, but he knew Tony wouldn't let up until he did.
"I just… I should've been able to handle it, Mr. Stark!" Peter hesitantly admitted, no longer close to inaudible. It was an unforeseeable situation that destroyed all of his main defenses, but he still should've been able to find a way out. "You shouldn't have to keep cleaning up after me. You were probably busy, and I dragged you all the way out to Central Park. Plus it's the middle of winter, and—"
Tony held up his hand, bringing Peter's rambling to an end. Whenever he was exceedingly nervous, Peter tended to go on and on. He rarely noticed it unless someone was kind (or cruel) enough to point it out.
After scooting his chair a bit closer, Tony went to put his hand on Peter's shoulder. When he realized it was blocked by the blankets, he ended up resting it over his hair instead.
Peter wasn't used to Mr. Stark being within a foot of him, let alone touching him. Although he had trouble comprehending it, he didn't mind. Physical contact had always been a big comfort to him.
"Alright, story time," Tony announced. He cleared his throat again as he sat up a little straighter. "As you know, I was a stupidly curious kid. I had so many questions and nobody wanted to answer them. So… I ran experiments."
Peter could easily imagine a young Tony Stark in a makeshift lab, attempting to figure the universe out. His creations and discoveries had always been everything to him. Peter wasn't nearly as accomplished as his mentor, but he invented enough to understand.
"Occasionally, I needed help. Like most kids, I turned to my parents. I won't get into the details because I rather put my hand into a moving blender, but let's just say they weren't happy about it. The older I got, the more I apologized… Until eventually, I stopped asking."
Mr. Stark rarely brought up his childhood. When he did, he never got into the details. He was obviously holding some things back, but the main point still stood.
Peter already knew, but his mentor's parents were jerks. Parents were supposed to endlessly love and support their kids. Tony never got to have that.
In a way, Peter understood that too. His mom and dad never mistreated him, but they didn't get to have significant roles in his life. They died before he learned how to tie his shoes. Everything he knew about them came from other people.
Aunt May and Uncle Ben put their entire hearts into raising him right, but their dynamic was still different from other families. They were never able to cross the line from guardians to parents. A little distance always stayed between them. Peter understood – taking him in tore up their plans – but it didn't stop his heart from missing what he never got to have.
His and Mr. Stark's upbringings were wildly different, yet so unbelievably similar too.
"I'm sorry," Peter whispered. He cringed when he realized what he said. The last thing Tony probably wanted to hear was another apology.
"Hey, no. None of that. There's a point to this," Mr. Stark continued, easily breezing past his disheartening anecdote. "I don't want that with us, kid. It's an ugly, lonely, and dangerous cycle. One you don't deserve to be in."
Was Tony comparing their relationship to the one he had with his parents? Did that mean he saw Peter as…
Before he could even finish his thought, Peter shut the idea down. It was just an example. Mr. Stark couldn't possibly care that much.
Could he?
Peter nodded a little, his gaze staying on his mentor. Tony offered him a sad smile. "I know in the beginning, I was tough on you. I thought it would make you stronger somehow, but leaving you on your own? Taking away your suit? I was way out of line. I could've gotten you seriously hurt."
He tried not to think about the ferry incident. Just the indirect mention made him feel nauseous. Peter made a huge mistake that day, and it nearly cost a boatload of innocent civilians their lives.
His eyes burned again. A massive mistake deserved massive repercussions, but Tony's punishment had only led to more problems. His mentor still didn't know exactly what went down on the night of his homecoming. Peter wasn't sure if he'd ever come clean about it. Mr. Stark seemed to already felt some degree of regret, and being honest would only make it worse. He didn't see the point in that.
"But I messed up," Peter quietly responded, barely able to keep eye contact.
Tony gently brushed his hair back. "So? I mess up all the time. All of us do. Doesn't mean I should've taken the one thing that was keeping you safe."
Peter wanted to disagree, but his mentor was right. Every single member of the Avengers had their own list of mistakes.
"I forgive you," Peter murmured. Tony didn't technically apologize, but it still felt like the right thing to say, and he meant it.
His mentor let himself smile for just a moment, then his features grew stern again. "If you need help, you call me. No matter what. I'm never too busy."
Uncertainty still plagued his mind, but Peter answered with a soft "I will." If Tony wanted him to reach out, then he would. It was as simple as that.
After Peter agreed, Mr. Stark relaxed. "Good. And never feel bad about reaching out either. There's a reason why so many heroes work in teams."
Did he consider them a team? Peter always thought Spider-Man was closer to being Iron Man's sidekick than an equal. Was it really possible that he saw them at the same level?
His lips curved upwards. "Okay, Mr. Stark. I can do that." For the first time since he was shot down, Peter felt like things were going to be alright. He would still need to rest, but his body was on the mend and things were okay with his d— mentor. Within a couple days, he'd be back to fighting crime, with Mr. Stark ready to take his call if need-be. In a way, the extra protection made him feel stronger.
A small yawn escaped him. He'd slept for hours, but Peter was still tired. He didn't know much about hypothermia, but he figured it had to be normal.
After Tony moved his hand away, he lowered the bed all the way down. Another thing he silently understood.
"Go back to sleep. Your aunt should be here soon," Mr. Stark instructed. Aunt May. Contacting her hadn't even crossed his mind. How could he forget?
Then again, when would he have had the time?
"Pete, you got tossed into a frozen lake," Tony reminded him. "You were a little preoccupied. She's not mad."
Peter knew she wouldn't be, but it was still calming to hear. "Thank you," he whispered as his eyes fell shut.
Tony released a dramatic huff of air, then leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his head. Peter's heart swelled.
"Go. To. Sleep."
For once, he actually listened.
In the future, I may either add a second part or create a short series. I was thinking of possibly writing this situation in Tony's POV, so please let me know your thoughts! I was also thinking of writing something shortly after this, with Peter finally explaining what happened on homecoming night. I know this story has been written at least a hundred times before, but! Thanks again for reading!
