This is a meaty chapter, and one of my favorites. :)
Heroics and a Harangue
"Careful, you don't want to burn yourself, Pete."
"I'm fine."
"Oh, you are?" Tony looked sharply at his hands, hovering near a Bunsen burner. "Watch your sleeve!" The flame had started to lap at his shirt.
Peter pulled his hands back and winced. "Sorry."
The man just rolled his eyes and looked to Marcus, who sat watching nearby.
"Keep an eye on him, would you? Make sure he doesn't burn the lab down. I'm going to go check on the others."
Marcus gave Peter's shoulder a light shove that made him chuckle as Mr. Stark crossed the room to where Anni and Emily were studying their own flame, sleeves rolled up and well away from danger.
He eavesdropped as Mr. Stark pointed out something off with their project.
"You're doing it again," Marcus pointed out.
"Ah!" Peter pulled back his sleeve, but this time the edge had caught fire. Marcus tossed him a nearby towel.
"Here."
He dabbed out the flame, suffocating it with the fabric, and Mark laughed at his distractedness. "You're going to set this place on fire someday."
An alarm went off, ringing shrilly through the room and making the interns cover their ears to block out the noise. Peter's hand darted to turn off the burner, then resumed holding his ear. He saw Emily do the same across the room.
"Did I seriously set off the fire alarm?" Peter asked, and Mark's forehead scrunched like he didn't think so.
They all looked to each other, unsure what to do, and even Tony seemed caught off guard until Friday started announcing on repeat, "Fire in the building. Evacuate immediately."
"Um…" Peter was at a loss. Surely Friday was smarter than that..?
"The fire's on level 15." Tony was checking his own watch that had Friday programmed into it.
So there was another fire.
Peter's first thought was that if they couldn't take the elevator, since that was a big no when there was a fire, they would have to take the stairs. All 40 stories of them to the ground of Stark Tower.
He didn't have time to worry about the logistics of that, though. The whole room spent three heavy seconds suspended in a mixture of surprise and fear, and then Tony jumped into action. "Take the stairwell, now. It's fireproofed. Leave everything behind."
Marcus was first to act, running out of the lab and down the hall to the door that marked the stairs. He yanked it open, holding it for the others on the floor to get out, Anni following close behind. Emily stopped to rifle for her phone in the front pocket of her backpack.
"I'll buy you all new phones Emily, just go!" Tony told her over the sound of the alarm, arms gesturing toward the doors, and she quickly stood and joined the flock heading for the exit. Peter wanted to talk to Tony, ask him what was going on, but he couldn't show the others that they had any kind of special relationship. He turned to follow the others out, only glancing back once to meet his dad's eyes.
"Go with them." Tony waved him on in a low voice, flashing him a quick smile. He tapped at his wrist and his suit materialized around him. "Fri, what's going on?" he asked in a rush.
Peter nodded at the dismissal then disappeared down the hall and through the doorway, Marcus coming in after him after the last few people on that floor had exited. "Thanks," Peter breathed, and the taller dark-haired boy nodded.
It was a long journey down the stairwell of the tower. The four interns stayed together, the occasional employee shoving past them to get around their group, and they kept an even pace, the boys leading the front. Their breathing got steadily heavier as they reached level 20 of the tower, and they stopped for a break, hearts pounding with adrenaline.
"Oh my gosh, we have 20 more to go," Emily said, her face red with exertion. Anni looked worried.
"Come on guys, we've gotta keep going. Let's go," Marcus told them, and they vaulted back into action again. Peter vaguely wished he had that same kind of confidence to get people to move.
With his asthma that became increasingly irritated, he fell in at the back of the group as they continued on. Maybe they should build some kind of fireproof exit slide from each level next time. Wouldn't hurt bringing it up to Tony.
Around level 16, Annie swore that the stairs felt warmer, and the others anxiously agreed. Sweat dripped from their foreheads now, and they were feeling dehydrated and worn out. But they kept pushing, nearly falling down the stairs till they were at level 6—so close.
It was then that Peter heard the screaming.
He stopped dead on the stairwell, the others noticing and looking back with concern written on their faces.
"Peter, we have to keep going," Marcus ordered. But Peter couldn't ignore what he'd heard. If somebody was trapped up here and he left them without trying to do something, he would never forgive himself. He walked over to the nearest door, Emily calling out to him.
"Peter, don't!"
"I think I hear someone." He paused and listened, debating for a critical moment, and then decided, his jaw set. Forget that he really needed an inhaler right about now. "You guys keep going. I'm going to see if they need help." He grabbed the door handle and pushed it open.
Fire. That was what met him then, like stepping into a body-sized oven, and he was sure it singed every hair on his body off. Gritting himself against the heat, he peered through the mess of the room and spotted an old woman on the ground, about twenty feet from the door. She was crying, and it looked to him like her leg was trapped under a fallen desk.
Without thinking, without wondering what the worst of the consequences could be, Peter moved toward her, adrenaline making his limbs move. Orange flame and black smoke filled the room around him, which was an office space, but thankfully, there was an open path to the woman. He stepped along it cautiously, not wanting to go too fast for risk of the floor giving in. He reached the lady and grabbed her arm, and her tears fell harder when she realized Peter was there to rescue her. Tears jumped to his own eyes, but he wasn't sure if it was from his emotions or the smoke leeching into his eyes.
He hauled the desk off of her, hands burning on the scorched wood and making him cry out, and then he hauled her to her feet, not bothering to worry if he was hurting her. They had to get out. Now.
He headed back for the door he'd come through, the woman half-walking, Peter half-dragging, until they were there. He heaved it open and immediately breathed in the sweet, clean air of the proofed stairwell. He let the door slam shut behind them, blocking them from the roaring flames, and it was then that the woman nearly lost her composure for joy while Peter dragged in clean breaths.
"Oh, thank you, boy. You shouldn't have. Bless you."
"It's alright, ma'am, you're welcome. But we need to go." He hauled himself to his feet and continued hefting her with him down the last three flights. Just because the stairs were fireproof didn't mean they were structurally indomitable. If the fire ate away at their supports, all of it could come crashing down.
It was like the very thought jinxed it. Peter heard a rumble above them, and he swore under his breath. "Please no, please no." Just last us three more flights. His lungs were aching by now, and his asthma was only exacerbating the issue. He needed his inhaler. He needed cleaner air. He needed help.
"Help!" he yelled, his voice rough with the smoke in his throat and chest. "Help, please!" He coughed with the exertion of yelling, still stumbling toward the final exit door with the old woman jostling in his arms.
He suddenly remembered the watch Tony had given him and its emergency button, almost cursing himself that he didn't think of it before. He reached a hand around to his other with some difficulty, the woman in his arms limiting his movement, and pressed the button three times. It let out a ping, and Peter prayed someone was able to reach them in time.
Peter's head started to feel fuzzy from lack of oxygen, and he willed himself to stay awake. "No, no…" he muttered. "Come on..."
He barely registered as a metal suit appeared in front of him. He stared as strong arms picked him and the lady up. They soared to safety, to air, and as soon as they were out of the smoke and flames and met with gray sky Peter started coughing violently. "I can't…breathe," he gasped out. He could barely stop coughing long enough to take a breath, and his limited air was quickly running out.
"Hurry! They need help!" he heard a familiar voice yell, and it was then that Peter realized he was on the ground again, being supported by red and gold arms. Tony.
"I can't—" He choked on air, his lungs heaving and gasping and he wondered, for a brief second, if he was going to die. He hoped the lady was okay.
"Peter!" Tony's voice was clearer now, probably free from his suit. He sounded scared. "Stay with me, bud. Please, Pete, you gotta stay with me." Next to them, Peter watched the old woman get whisked away. She wasn't coughing nearly as much as him, and Peter wondered idly if it was because her old lady lungs were healthier than his asthmatic ones.
Thanks, lungs.
He registered being lowered onto the grass, the blades itching his burnt arms. He sat up, someone supporting his back. Was he even coughing, anymore? Was he breathing? He couldn't really tell. He felt like he was floating. He thought of the one time he and May had gone to the beach, and he'd run out into the ocean and laid on his back in the waves, being supported and held up by the water. This floating felt similar to that...It was weightless, and right. Except this wasn't right.
He knew Tony never left him, holding him up and calling his name and mumbling things to him over and over. Peter felt an inhaler get pushed into his mouth at some point and on instinct, he breathed in. Then something got strapped over his mouth and beautiful, relieving oxygen filled his lungs again. He kept coughing until his breathing reached something close to normal again, and his lungs felt clearer. It was then that he opened his eyes he never realized he'd closed.
Tony's stricken face stared into his. Peter tried to give him a weak smile or some sign that he was okay, but he was too tired...The effort of hauling the woman through the building had drained him and the smoke had poisoned his lungs and left him exhausted and shaky. He settled for breathing instead.
"Breathe, kid. Just breathe," Tony murmured over and over. Other worried faces appeared beside his—Bruce, Natasha, Rhodey. Peter blinked at them and wished he had enough strength to tell them he was fine.
"Tony, what happened?" That was Bruce.
"I don't know." Tony sounded like he was straining for air himself. "I watched him leave with the other interns. He should've gotten out, but I guess he–" He stopped to take in needed air.
The sun felt light and warm on Peter's skin, a complete contrast to the heat of the fire that had threatened to burn him alive a few minutes ago. He felt medics treat the burns on his hands and arms, spreading a cool salve over his skin that made his body relax. He couldn't remember, but he might've dozed off at one point.
Finally, maybe thirty minutes later, maybe an hour later, he didn't have to cough at all anymore. He was less sleepy, but still tired. He was going to deserve a lot of ice cream after this.
The paramedics cleared him to go after signing NDAs, and the Avengers there helped him to his feet. They left the private area he was being treated in and started the trek to a line of black cars parked along the street. Natasha told him they were going to stay at the compound till the tower could be repaired. It would take months. The internship was going to be on an indefinite pause until they could procure a new, secure lab space.
Their project…all their work on their robots was maybe lost.
They split up into cars, Peter in the backseat between Nat and Tony, with Rhodey sitting next to Happy up front. The ride was deathly silent. Peter nursed his stinging arms and winced when he was jostled by the bumpy, rough road. His lungs would need time to heal, he knew. No strenuous exercise for him for a while. Scratch that—no exercise at all. He took off his dirty glasses and wiped them on his shirt as best he could.
Quickly the city scenery changed to a forest, and he felt himself relax as green filled his line of vision. It was beautiful upstate. Peaceful. A deep contrast to the burning building he'd just escaped from.
Happy glanced back at him a few times through the rearview mirror as he drove.
Tony's mood had changed drastically since he'd rescued him from the building. Instead of being worried, he was quiet now, head facing the window through almost the entire ride. He only glanced at Peter worriedly when the teen grunted in pain from being jostled too roughly.
The procession leaked out of their funeral line of cars and started up toward the glass doors of the compound, Peter's group lingering at the back. The others went inside and he naturally lagged behind, Natasha's arm supporting him, Tony flanking him, glancing back at him every few steps to see if he was okay. Rhodey looked concerned, too, but Peter thought it was less for him and more for the growing expression of what looked to be anger on Tony's face.
Their pace started to slow even further. Nervous dread pooled in Peter's stomach as one by one, the others went in the building. Don't leave me alone, he thought with some desperation. Nat offered him a sympathetic look before slipping past them and heading inside, too. No, no...It was too quiet. The mood was all wrong.
The only one who didn't leave was Rhodey. Peter halted his walk completely, looking back and forth between the two men and waiting in pure fear, now. Something told him this wasn't going to be good.
Tony turned to him, and Peter blinked at the anger on his face. His nanoparticle suit had been back in its housing unit for hours, but he looked no less formidable standing in his dress suit. The heat in his father's eyes seemed to burn right through him, hot as the blaze he'd just crawled his way out of. You can throw me back into the fire, Peter thought dismally as he stood like a dog awaiting punishment.
"What were you thinking?" Tony looked absolutely pissed. Peter had never been on the receiving end of the man's anger before, and on the spot he made it his goal never to be again.
"I—" He took a step backward, fear and self-defense clawing simultaneously through his chest. "I was just helping her. I heard her yelling and thought I could help her get out."
Tony's jaw was hard. "That's our job. The ones who are trained for this and have ways to protect ourselves. You're not fireproof, Peter. You could've died!"
"That woman would have died if I hadn't been there! I don't regret what I did," he said firmly.
"Tones, he's right," Rhodey interrupted with a hand on the man's arm, voice low and even. Maybe that's why his dad's friend was here, to referee. For whatever reason, Peter was grateful.
"He may have taken a bold risk, and I'm sure he'll call for backup first in the future," he looked pointedly toward Peter, "but he saved her life."
"And almost lost his," Tony gritted out, facing his friend.
"But he didn't, because you were there. You should be proud of him."
The anger in Tony's features faltered for a moment, and there Peter could see his true emotions—fear and worry. He turned his eyes to him, and Peter waited for him to say something, or give a verdict. He stared hard at the ground and flipped through the options in his mind. He could ground him for a month, maybe. But from what? Peter didn't do much else other than go to Ned's and watch TV. Infinitely worse punishments also flipped through his mind. Tony could not let him stay with him anymore. He could be so done with him that he didn't want him around. He seemed pretty upset. What if he'd screwed this up?
His dad's words from over a month ago, the day they first really got to know each other, filled his mind. 'I won't ever regret you.'
But this was uneven ground. Peter didn't feel like he knew Tony well enough to know what he'd do. He was in the dark.
Tony steeled himself again after a few long, stilted seconds, and Peter stood bracing himself, the wind airing out some of the smoke smell from his clothes as he waited.
In a rush of desperation, he decided to make one final case for himself. "I was only trying to help her. I didn't mean to make you mad, I swear. Don't send me back…Please."
Mr. Stark's eyes widened, face losing its tension. He searched Peter's eyes, Rhodey looking down at the concrete beside them.
"Kid." Tony stepped toward him, and Peter forced himself to stay rooted in place instead of running across the compound lawn like he itched to. Not that he could get that far with his sad lungs.
"You're not a UPS package, bud." Rhodey huffed a laugh under his breath, shaking his head. "I'm not sending you anywhere, okay? You're staying with me. I would never..." He took his face in his hands. "I was just scared. I thought I was going to lose you after I'd just found you and it got to me." He brushed some ash from Peter's hair. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm proud of you."
Peter nodded, lowering his eyes as his chest filled with relief. "Thanks."
"We're good. Let's just…get you inside, huh?" A hand patted his back. They headed in together. Tony led him up to their rooms on the communal floor, and Peter went straight for the shower to get the smoke and ash off of him. The water stung his burned arms, but he couldn't keep them dry and shower at the same time.
When he returned to the living room he saw the team was gathered together on a group of sofas, relaxing and chatting quietly. They all turned to smile at Peter when he walked in.
"Good job today, Peter," Steve praised, and Peter glowed a little.
"Thanks," he said.
"That took some guts, kid," Sam put in, and the others bobbed their heads in agreement.
"Alright, that's enough ego-inflating, the kid needs to rest." Tony patted the empty spot next to him on the couch.
"I'm not that tired," Peter mumbled.
"Oh?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "You're not? So if we watched a movie right now, you could stay awake through the whole thing?"
Peter shrugged. "Probably."
Tony huffed. "Alright, kid."
They relaxed on the couch in front of the TV for the evening, the room dimly lit, Peter tucked against Tony's side with a blanket draped over them. The other Avengers were sprawled out around them with blankets and pillows.
"This is a set-up," Peter said tiredly, and Tony snickered.
"Well, you need to sleep." Tony poked him lightly in the forehead. "You're fighting it. A bad sunburn's enough to knock you out, and your arms got burnt to a crisp, so just let go, kid. This movie's lame anyway; trust me, you're not missing a thing."
Peter shifted, minding his sensitive arms, and got into a better position with his head resting comfortably on Tony's shoulder.
Peter's eyes slipped closed. He didn't want to let his tiredness win, but he was exhausted.
—
Peter awoke, and it took a few seconds for him to remember he was at the compound, not the penthouse.
It was completely dark, so he figured it was only the middle of the night. He turned his head, expecting to see Tony where he had been, but there was no one on the couch next to him. He sat up a little more, peering at the other couches.
The others were gone too, but that made sense. They had gone to their rooms to crash after the movie had ended. But the fact that Tony had left him too bothered him a little more than he would admit. He shuffled around, reaching for the blanket that was draped over his lap and pulling it up over his shoulders again.
"Pete?" a voice whispered.
He looked up toward the sound. "Dad?"
He watched Tony's dark figure walk over to the couch, mug in his hands. "Hey, kid. I got up to go to the bathroom but I didn't think you'd wake up. You kinda trapped me earlier and I didn't want you to lose sleep."
"Oh." He blushed in the dark. "Sorry."
Tony waved a hand. "It's fine. I'm glad you got some sleep." He sat down next to him. "Are you feeling okay?" His gentle tone was such a contrast from his earlier anger.
Peter nodded. "Yeah. My arms are still sensitive, but it's not too bad." He probably needed to put more lotion on them.
Tony took a drink of water from his mug. "Clint took blackmail photos of us while we were asleep; I just wanted to warn you ahead of time not to get on his bad side."
"Oh, great," Peter muttered.
"Yeah. Hey, did you just call me 'dad' a minute ago?"
Peter's face drained of color. Crap, did he? He couldn't remember; he'd been half-asleep. "Did I?" It came out squeaky.
Tony smiled. "Yeah. You did."
Peter tried not to die of embarrassment. "Oh." What did he say to that? I'm sorry?
Tony chuckled. "It's okay. It's fine, kid. You can call me whatever you want."
"Okay," Peter agreed quietly. Tony set down his mug on the coffee table and then got situated next to Peter again, laying the blanket over his legs. He was staying. A rush of warmth settled itself in Peter's chest. "Thanks," he whispered into the dark.
"Of course, kid," Tony said. "I know you like company."