"Ned!"

"Sorry! Next time I'll get it!" Ned yelled into the small bluetooth Peter had taken from May's drawer in the morning.

Peter adjusted it when it came out again and rolled his eyes in irritation. "He's heading to the alley!" He shouted, huffing in frustration and taking the shortcut to get there beforehand.

"Okay, to your left-Peter, left!" Ned's voice bellowed in his ear when he turned right. He was about to turn but was smashed violently backwards in the air. He was up in no time, but it was a hard blow.

"N-Ned!" He yelled, trying to move up against the wall and quickly turning the corner. "Ned!" He leaned against the bricks and gasped for air, his shaking hand moving up against his ear. He felt the bluetooth in two under his mask and clenched his jaw.

He breathed out, looked to his left instantly when he heard footsteps get closer, and webbed his way down the gap of the two buildings. He was nearly at the end turn when something grabbed him behind and pulled him violently backwards.

"Didn't you take his suit?" Rhodey squinted at his phone screen, then looked up at Tony, who was staring at him with raised eyebrows. "Spider-Man's suit." Rhodey cleared.

Tony pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, "I did." He said, looking back down at a faceplate he was trying to upgrade.

"He's fighting some dudes." Rhodey said, heavily invested in the video he'd been glaring at for the past few minutes.

Tony scoffed, not bothering to look up, "if you had eyes, you'd see that whatever he's wearing couldn't be anything I made." He remarked, focused closely on a tiny screw he was trying to add.

"Maybe you should go help." Rhodey said, eyes still glued to the screen.

There was no reply for a few seconds, "he's fine." Tony said dismissively, "he thinks he can do everything himself, why not let him see how that turns out?" Tony said with a frown, still not looking up.

Rhodey ignored the comment, and then shouted a "woah" loud and clear, which disrupted Tony, who looked up in frustration as he dropped his screw.

"Seriously? Serious-that was my fiftieth-" he stopped and took a breath when he realised Rhodey was still staring at the screen. "What are you-Friday, bring it up." He ordered, watching the TV screen on the opposite side of the room light up and then switch to a live-stream.

It was Peter, in his crappy homemade suit. The clip started with him appearing from around the corner. Tony's eyes narrowed as he stared with curiosity at the screen. He was always swinging around Queens, it was nothing knew, but Rhodey was making it sound bad.

Peter rested against the wall and was gasping for air, one hand clutching his chest. His hand moved to the side of his head, then something angered him. He clenched his hand in the air and was about to punch something when he quickly turned his head left.

"Where is that?" Tony asked, setting his things down and standing up to get a closer look.

"Three blocks down from Peter's apartment." Friday answered, and he watched Peter go off the screen.

"Where'd he go?" Tony asked quickly.

"The majority of videos are either live streams or from social media." Friday informed, and there was a short pause and then a switch.

This one had talking. It was being filmed by teenagers by the sound of it, and probably those inside the surrounding buildings.

It showed Peter making it nearly to the end of an alley when a long twisting metal rope came out of nowhere and wrapped around his waist, jerking him backwards and out of frame. There was an "ah shit!" in the background and some shuffling before the video cut off.

"Friday!" Tony yelled, eyes narrowed and heart racing.

The video quickly switched to a lower resolution one in a smaller screen next to a news anchor. It showed Peter being thrown onto the floor roughly and the thing around him disappeared. He looked confused and was panicking, which was unusual for him. "It seems like new technology or a weapon of some sort, which the famous neighbourhood Spider-Man seems to be having difficulty battling." The woman with standing in front of an eager crowd said, "it really raises the question-"

Tony waved his hand and the video closed. "Who were those guys?"

"Facial scan was unable to place three of the four offenders. The fourth is David Hoss, arrested in 2012 for illegally tampering and exchanging with Chitauri equipment he obtained in the aftermath of the fight."

His eyes widened and he froze. This was stuff that all the Avengers combined had difficulty containing, and Peter was a child. An inexperienced kid. "Where is he now?" He asked, his hand over his mouth.

"Hoss is-"

"Not Hoss, Peter!" Tony interrupted in anger, trying to ignore the sound of his thudding heart.

"I am unsure." Friday replied ambiguously, and Tony instantly extended his arm out towards his display of suits. "The last clip places him in a city job centre." The AI informed, and a five-second video of him being flung through the glass window was projected. A newsman grimaced as the video retreated into the corner of the screen. "He saves his neighbourhood, but in a situation like this, whose going to save him, is what everyone wants to know." He concluded, and the video of Peter blew up on the screen again.

Rhodey ducked when the suit parts came flying across the room. "You don't even know where he is!"

Tony staggered backwards, "I will." He said, making his way out. "Okay, locate Hoss, Peter has to be near-"

Peter struggled. Whatever the thing was that had tightly wrapped around him, it wasn't anything that was supposed to exist. He could feel the jagged metal edges ripping through the suit and into his skin. He was clawing at it mid-air when he landed on the floor. The thing was gone.

He looked up quickly and watched as the four appeared again, all with different unusual-looking 'weapons' in their hands. He glanced up at the building and threw a web, swinging upwards and just narrowly avoiding a shot.

"Just run." He whispered to himself as he reaches the roof and ran across. They wouldn't hurt civilians, they were after him, and if he had the chance to just get out of sight and take his suit off, he could get out alive. He was on the opposite side within seconds and just about to jump downwards when a clickering sound started following him closely behind.

He turned and didn't have the chance to react when the clawing rope tied around him again. It dug deeper this time. It looked like one streak of those things the Avengers had fought. He cried out in pain when it got tighter and haphazardly flung his hands towards his stomach, where it was wrapped around.

He kicked his legs in the air, his hands tightly grasping the metal contraption. He was holding onto it from both sides and pulling, and it was tearing apart, but too slowly. He yelled in rage and he didn't see it coming. One second, the thing was wrapped around him, and the second, it rolled and twisted, throwing him right off the building.

He had no control, he went spiralling off the roof and into mid-air. His hands were flying, and he tried webbing, but it didn't work. It took two seconds at most, and he smashed through a window of the opposite building.

I took him a second to regain consciousness, and the second he did, he gasped in pain. He could feel small glass chips under his palms, and something pressing against his stomach. He rolled onto his back and cried out, looking down at his hoodie. He pulled a sharp piece out and brought it in front of him to take a look since it was so dark, and then flinched when something flew through the window and past him, breaking a table behind him.

He rolled and got himself out-of-view, sighing and swearing under his breath. He looked up to see that the building was cleared. It was past eight, after all. The lights were dim, and it felt like a horrible atmosphere where miserable people spent their days answering calls at their desks.

He pushed the useless thoughts out of his head and stood up, walking down against the wall until he reached the door. He saw the corridor and then the bright green sign pointing to the fire exit, where he started limping towards, still out of breath.

He kicked open the door and rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He looked up and started running again - past a few trashcans and more dumped garbage. He looked up and tried webbing up, but there was nothing. He looked down at both wrists, and both of his webbers were gone.

He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, "that's okay. It's okay." He told himself, forcing another run and reaching the end of the alley. He tripped and instinctively moved his hands forward to balance himself. He was ready to run straight when he saw one of them again. Nope, all four were there already, covering all his exits.

"No-no need to get pushy." Peter said with a fake laugh as he squinted in pain. "We can-we can all walk away." He said nervously.

The man in front just frowned, "we're not the ones worried right now." He replied, tilting his head as the metal death trap appeared next to him.

"Seriousl-what the hell is that thing?" He yelled, unable to control his annoyance and anger.

"It will be the thing that kills you."

"I don't even know you." Peter frowned, moving back in fear.

"I know you. Genius kid trying to take down the illegal doings of his perfect neighbourhood. Some of us have work. Some of us aren't happy and rich like you.

"You're-you've been trading that stuff." Peter realised, hoping at that moment that he hadn't been to the party with Ned, where all his problems started.

"None of your business what I've been trading, Spider-Man." He scoffed, shaking his head as he stepped back.

"Wait!" Peter said in a last attempt, bringing up both hands in defeat. "I'll stop. As long as people don't get hurt-"

"People get hurt. What the hell do you think I'm selling this shit for? I can't have a kid on my tail at every turn." He dismissed, and the little metal snakes jumped across the opposite alley towards him.

He ran back towards the building. He ran faster than he'd ever done before, than he thought was possible even for him. He looked up at the door and jumped, sticking his hands against the wall above it as he watched the things smash their way inside.

He wasn't halfway up when he felt the stabbing pain in his back as the claws dug in. His hand slipped, sending him down as his head hit the corner of the extending door frame.

This all felt like a bad dream, and he wished it was, because there was no way out. His temple was stinging, and he only had time to punch one of the arms back with all his strength before the other climbed over him.

He grabbed it and started pulling at both sides to snap it. There was a sudden, stinging pain in his right side. His breaths came out in short gasps as his head shook and he looked down to see the thing retreat. Shit.

"Ah shit, n-no-," his hands instantly moved to cover up the hole in his body. He was thrown backwards against the wall without warning, and felt burning tears in his eyes.

A whistle interrupted the fight and the metal things slithered away. Peter watched and then moved his bloody hand up and tugged at his mask weakly, throwing it against the opposite wall in pain and anger. Bad idea, he thought instantly, he should've used it to stop the bleeding.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen was smashed, and he turned it on, which was surprising. He tried calling May, and then the phone switched off. He was ready to scream, and threw the phone aside. "Come on." He said to himself, "some-someone help!" He yelled as loud as he could, but he was not only surrounded by closed office buildings, but also in the corner of an alley.

He closed his eyes and kept his hands pressed against his wound for another few minutes before a loud crash startled him. He looked to his right and watched as a blur of red came closer.

"Peter." A voice projected through the suit.

Peter squinted, his vision blurring further. He couldn't see what it was and his eyes fluttered, trying to focus and get a closer look. He forced himself up against the wall and started shifting backwards into the corner.

"Peter!" Tony yelled again, "it's me-where-" he looked around the basically pitch-black area for anyone else and then took a few steps forwards.

He recognised the bright light in the middle of the suit and stopped shuffling, gasping and holding onto his stomach as he slid back down.

Tony pursed his lips under his faceplate when he saw the streak of bloody on the wall.

"Fatal stab wound to the stomach detected. Peter needs medical attention." Friday warned, voice calm in the chaos, which slightly annoyed Tony.

"Peter." Tony said again, his hand moving up to his faceplate. Within a small click, he was out and pacing towards his young protege. "Let's chalk it up to bad decisions on both parts, huh?" He said, his voice shaking as he tried to make light of a not-so-light situation.

Peter's hands were trembling, shaking uncontrollably. He tried. He tried to stop the bleeding, but it didn't seem to help. He should be healing. Why wasn't he healing? Then Tony was there, and he didn't remember seeing him walk over. But he tried to ignore that, because not long down that chain of thoughts was "Am I dreaming?", and that wouldn't do him any good.

Tony was towering over and soon pressing against the injury with his jacket. "It's okay, buddy, we'll sort it out." He reassured Peter, who looked like he'd either pass out or break down, and both were undesirable options. "Friday! Get my medics here!" He called, and he looked up as the suit prodded over. "Peter don't pass out." Tony scolded as soon as Peter shut his eyes. "Just, don't do that." He continued.

It wasn't the place or the time, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself. He was scared. Peter looked up and shook his head in clear disagreement, "I don-don't what the h-hell those things were!" Peter said in defence as loud as he could, stopping to breathe after nearly every word, knowing that his finished sentence didn't make proper sense.

Tony frowned, "they're-they're bad people. This isn't on you." Tony said, eyes red and watery as he watched Peter fidget in discomfort.

Peter shook his head again, "why isn't it-healing?" He sniffled, his hands tightly clutching the jacket that Tony was also holding. "I'm not g-gonna die, am I?" He asked, tears falling still.

Tony scoffed as if he'd said something unbelievable, "no. No, you're not-you're fine." He said loudly, and Peter was clearly ignoring him.

"Oh-no-I shouldn't have-" he broke off into a cry. Tony was about to say something, but Peter's hand was suddenly on his shoulder as the boy leaned forwards. "Can-can you tell-no-May-" he said incoherently.

He didn't freeze a lot. There weren't a lot of things that scared him, but Peter staring at him with those scared eyes as he mumbled on was one of them. He froze, like he did when he watched that video.

He snapped out of it and took hold of him, "she'll be fine, because you'll be fine." He said, and that didn't sit well with Peter. "I'll take care of it." He said quickly for assurance.

Peter nodded, "you will", he whispered to himself, "yeah." He said, his hand sliding down Tony's shirt, although Tony took hold of it. It was cold.

Tony was now pressing down on the injury, while Peter's head was slumped against his chest.

"Just a little longer." He said, trying to look down at him when he didn't reply. "Peter!" He yelled, shaking him just a little. No response. He felt his own chest tighten.

Two weeks later

Peter stared at the ceiling. He stared at the small hole he'd accidentally layered through. It was hardly noticeable, you had to look for it to know. It was Friday evening, and he'd blown off Ned the past week. Actually, ever since he had his accident. He sighed sadly and was about to take another nap when there was a loud knock on the door.

He looked at his door and contemplated going. It couldn't be anyone important, he thought, May had a key and Ned would call. He groaned when it knocked again, practically falling off the bed and dragging himself to the door.

He looked through the tiny whole and frowned, stepping back and thinking about going back to his room when the person on the opposite side spoke.

"Open the door, I can see you." Tony said loudly from the other side. Peter rolled his eyes and turned the lock, swinging the door open. "Was that so hard?"

"What are you-where's Happy?" Peter questioned, looking past Tony for a brief second.

"Not here. It's just me." Tony answered, making his way in uninvited before Peter could stop him. "I thought it was time for a little chat." Tony continued, barging through into Peter's room, who was catching up to him after he closed the door.

"That's my room!" Peter shouted from behind, trying to stop him going in.

Tony frowned, "not like I haven't seen-" he stopped, standing at the door and eyeing the mess. There were snapped pencils on the floor near his desk, a hole in the bed frame which Tony guessed Peter had punched because there were smudged specks of red near it, an of course the empty of his bedside table because everything that was supposed to be on it was now on the floor. He turned to face Peter, who was pursing his lips with his head hung down.

"I don't even wanna ask." Tony stated, but it came out in a more worried tone than he intended.

Peter jumped on that, "great, so you can lea-" he stopped talking when Tony started walking to the corner of his room.

"I don't want to, but I have to." He looked closely at a biology mindmap that had been haphazardly taped to the wall.

Peter scowled, "that's mine!" He said, about to move in front before Tony ripped it down to reveal another hole in the wall. He heard Peter mutter something under his breath and turned to face him with the scraps of paper in his hand.

"Turned your room into your punching bag?" Tony asked, tossing the paper in the small bin next to the desk.

"I don't know what you...mean." He said, scratching the back of his head. "That was-that was already there-"

"Uh huh." Tony dismissed, "the blood as well?"

Peter squinted, "there's no blood." He said instantly. "It was there when we moved in." Peter lied, badly though, but he was trying.

"It wasn't there last time I came here." Tony stated, picking up one of many broken pencils from his desk.

"How would you know?" Peter asked incredulously - that was months ago.

Tony turned around, "FRIDAY, last time I-"

"Okay! Okay, maybe it was me." Peter admitted quietly.

Tony sighed, "okay, now that that's out of the way, can I ask why?" He asked softly, chucking the half end of the pencil into the bin too.

Peter stared at the carpet for a few seconds and then looked up, "no, you can't. You can leave." Peter said, clearly very upset.

"Peter, a lot of…things happened that day." Tony said, choosing his words carefully, because one of the things was that technically, this boy standing in front of him had died. Tony cleared his throat, "and a lot of them were on me, sure, but-"

"I don't care about that." Peter dismissed, turning to leave his room.

Tony grabbed his arm and his eyes caught the broken doorknob. Wow. "You're having trouble sleeping." Tony stated. Peter frowned.

"No I'm-"

"Yes you are. Your eyes are-" sad. Tired. "Have you talked to anyone?"

"No, because superhero therapists don't exist." Peter replied with sarcasm. "And I can't talk in metaphors." He added quickly as if he knew what Tony was about to say.

"May knows, your friends-"

"I don't want to talk to them." He said, really hating the fact that they were still in his room, where he'd slowly bashed things up for the past two weeks. That's why he didn't let May in.

Tony put his hand over his mouth before he spoke, "are you having nightmares?"

"No." Peter replied without skipping a beat.

"Let me rephrase. You are having nightmares-"

"It's not a big deal! It's been like two weeks, everyone's past it-"

"You're not past it. I'm not past it. Look, I told you to just 'deal with it', and that was horrible advice."

Peter sighed, "I'm fine."

"Oh, I can see." Tony replied sarcastically, looking around the room in a gesturing manner.

"It's nothing, I'm still-"

"It's not nothing."

"No it wasn't, I mean it was nothing, not wasn't-"

"Zip it." Tony said, and Peter frowned, looking at the ground now. "What happened that night-"

Peter spoke with nothing but frustration in his voice, "is over-we're all alive and happy-"

"No one here is happy!" Tony said, but it came out louder and harsher than he intended,

"Okay, Mr Stark, why aren't you happy? I'm happy-"

"You're room, for one,-"

"Nightmares don't make you depressed-"

"Stop talking. You're not making any sense." Tony said again, because saying short snappy things like that usually worked, but this time it really, really seemed to annoy him.

"You stop talking." Peter snapped, "you stop! Because this is your fault!" He raged, getting closer to Tony, who looked a little hurt and surprised and was now moving back.. "You keep telling me to stop and-" he brought up his right hand to the back of his head in panic and-

"Peter-"

"I'm not-I'm not doing the right thing." He said as if he'd a sudden moment of apprehension.

"That's not true."

"You don't know that."

Tony exhaled, "I do know that."

"Then why do I feel like this?" He asked seriously, frowning and waiting for a real answer.

"Because you're a good person. And good people always question whether-"

Peter shook his head in disagreement, "no-"

"You saved a whole city because no one else listened to you. Me being one of those people, but that's not the point. The point is, that an evil person wouldn't have done that."

"Right."

"I'm serious."

"I know!" Peter said in acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

"Thanks."

Thanks for the reviews again! This was based on a prompt by Nindragon :)