TW- injuries

*A year ago*

14 year-old Peter leans against the wall, rubbing a hand along his tender side. He hadn't had many injuries like this before. He's gotten a few cuts and bruises, but never a number of broken ribs.

It was ok though because he discovered pretty quickly that he has fast healing. Sadly though, it doesn't make the injuries hurt any less. In fact, he thinks it might make them hurt more with the healing process being so quick.

He's new to the whole superhero gig. He'd mostly been testing his powers and maybe stopping a few purse snatchings in between.

Today, he learned he needs backup webs. It's a must, unless he wants to have his last web snap mid-air again. That's what happened today and he ended up falling on the metal railing of an apartment. He had sighed and laid there for a long while, waiting for the waves of pain and the sparks going up his chest to fade away.

He'd expected Spider-man to become at least somewhat famous eventually, but he hopes it isn't from a video of this.

He knows there will be a large, blotchy bruise forming soon, though, it'll fade just as quick as it came. Against the brick wall, he sighs. He wonders if later on, he'll become more tolerant to Injuries.

He doesn't have time to dwell on it long though, because in the distance, sirens wail.

"Ok," he grunts. "Time to get back to it."

He can finish this up and then he'll go home. It's getting late anyway.

He hauls himself up off the ground, staggering as he feels the full force of his body's weight on his injury.
He gasps and hobbles before beginning to run in the direction of the ambulance.

He doesn't know how he missed it, he doesn't even know how recently it had happened.

How the hell could he possibly have missed this?

In front of him is a roaring fire, an orange so bright it hurts his eyes even with the goggles and his body burns despite how far away he is from the burning building.

He's scared.

Still, he hears the screams and he thinks about Uncle Ben, blood oozing from his wound and Peter being unable to help.

He's doing this to make up for it.

He has this responsibility. He has to go in there.

But he's still so scared.

He shakes the thought away.
That's what the mask's for Peter.

A citizen that had been somewhere in the crowd ran inside.

He follows them, hopping over a line of caution tape and shouldering his way through a few firefighters.

He knows they don't like him because they've (along with the police) recently come to the conclusion he'd been there to take their jobs but right now, at this moment, they have this unspoken agreement that they need as much help as they can get. He manages to grab person after person and lead them out of the building or to the window where a lifenet awaits them at the bottom.

He'd quickly forgotten about the man that'd ran inside. He's focused on others. He tries so hard to get them out- it's harder without his webs. He takes tonight as a reminder to never ever go out without extra web-cartridges.

There are burns along his body, stinging every movement, skin creasing when he hunches over to offer someone a hand or when it stretches out to push a beam above them out of the way- every single movement sends shockwaves of pain up his body, making his brain buzz.

He pushes through though because he has to. He needs to.

About an hour later he's forced out of the building- just before it collapses. Many had said they were lucky it stayed up that long. He'd managed to grab one more person- the man that had run inside the burning building- unconscious and burned horribly. He couldn't even tell if he was alive.

As he stares ahead, brain beginning to fizzle out, he hears them mention that the man was alive but he'd need immediate medical attention.

He doesn't remember walking home.

He only remembers being brought back with the sting of pulling his suit off, the way he threw his head back and held his breath as the black, charred fabric stuck to his wounds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter landed on the top of a rusted sign, staring down at the location the unknown person had texted him. It was an abandoned car repair shop. There were still old, dusty cars and the ground was concrete except for patches of dirt and debris in some areas.

"Hello?"

"It's nice to see you Peter."

Peter whipped around to see the villian walk out from behind a rusted van, cigarette in his mouth. He noticed how he wore thick, metal gloves, wires messily popped out of the gaps and sparking.

He knows this guy.

He was at the bank for him.
Both times.

He'd recognised when he-

'Bye bye Spider-man.'

Well, fuck.

This guy really wanted him dead.

Trying to ease his racing heart, Peter did what he did best. He spoke.

"You know, it's only fair you tell me your real name. You know mine."

"I told you my name."

"Yeah, your evil bad guy name. I'm not calling you Dagger, dude. It totally clashes with your theme. You don't even have a knife. I mean, the Gravity gun and metal gauntlet's pretty cool but-"

"That's my name."

"You're named after a knife," Peter deadpanned, watching wearily as the man's eyes crinkle above his humorous smile. Smoke puffed from his mouth as he laughed,

"My last name is Dagger."

"And your first?"

"Lucas."

"Oh... Well, You uh- you seem like a nice guy Lucas... Y-you said you knew something? About... about my aunt?"

God, please don't be what Peter thinks it is.

"That I do."

"...Well?"

"I think you know." The man's voice was grim. It sent a chill down Peter's spine.

"What?"

Peter played dumb. Deep down, he knew the answered but the older man continued to press.

"You know what happened to her."

"I-I don't." Please no.

"Why else would I call you here, Peter?"

Please.

He shook his head slowly in disbelief, taking a few steps back.

"You didn't," he croaked.

"I did," he said, the volume of his voice rising. He cackled and threw his cigarette on the ground, stomping on it. "I killed your aunt!"

"No!"

Peter lunged. The man easily dodged his fist. In his emotional state, he stumbled forward, panting heavily.

He twisted around and threw another punch, and another, only to be caught by Dagger. He barely had the time to even furrow his brows in his confusion before the glove came in contact with his temple.

"Wha-"

He's slammed into the cold, hard ground. For just a moment, Peter felt his vision black out. When it returned, the world around him was spinning. He couldn't see anything- especially with the dust that had risen upon the impact.

It lingered. He choked on it. It stung his eyes.

He needed to fight. This monster had killed May and he was going to kill Peter too.

He scrambled out of the way just before the metal fist almost hit him. It collided with the concrete loudly, sending spider- cracks everywhere, bits of ground crumbling and flying in different directions.

"I set up a device in her car to make it malfunction," he panted, eyes wide with manic. "And even when she crashed, she was still alive. The rest was me."

No, not May. Please that's not fair- she didn't die like that, she didn't-

"She died in pain."

"Stop!" Peter landed a punch on his cheek with a loud crack, though, Lucas just smiled, allowing the pooling blood to trickle out of his mouth.

"And oh, she cried," he sang. "She begged for her-"

Peter punched again, making the villain stumble backwards. He spit out a tooth and looked at the teen menacingly. Grabbing Peter by his suit and scrunching up the material, the man threw him into the hood of a car. It folded under his weight and its sirens began to wail.

Dagger turned around to grab something out of his bag and a machine whirred to life.

That fucking gravity gun.

He'd managed to dodge as a car was thrown his direction, yelping in surprise. It shot through the wired gate behind him, tearing a large hole into it.

Why did he even agree to meet in some random, abandoned, car repair shop?

Why were there cars still in an abandoned repair shop??

A tow truck flew towards him. With no time to jump out of the way, Peter caught it. Dirt gathered at his heels as he was shoved back, and he tried to stay on his feet. Once again, the gravity gun shot a beam of blue light towards him. It attached to the truck, and he suddenly realised it was becoming so much heavier. It was helping it squash him.

Well, isn't this ironic.

He shouted as he felt one of his ribs snap against the pressure.

Now he felt like he was dying. Fantastic.

"See what happens Peter?" He shouted, "When you fuck up? There are consequences! And because you couldn't do your job right, because you decided to slack off, you killed my family and you killed your aunt."

Peter cracked his eyes open and stared at the man.

"Maybe If you'd been good enough, your aunt would still be alive."

No-

The truck was dropped onto the ground, the bright blue light fading away. Peter gasped in pain and fell to the floor.

Boots scraping against the ground.

His heart thumped at a quick pace, anxiety heightening the louder the footsteps became.

God, May.

He missed May.

It was all his fault.

"Can't wait to see how Stark reacts."

Tony.

Peter gasped in another breath and sweeped his leg around the man. Lucas shouted in frustration as he dropped to the ground.

"You little shit!"

Peter jumped up to his feet and limped out of the car shop as fast as he could. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest, his head pounding with every step.

He shot out a web and yanked himself off the ground, trying his best to ignore the agonising, electrical throbs that traveled in waves through his body.

He had to get home.

"Peter, you have 14 missed calls from Tony Stark."

But boy, he was in so much trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tony I'm sure he's fine. Stop pacing."

Tony ignored Natasha, staring at his phone. Tessa followed him with every turn, staring up at him worriedly.

"Tony."

There was no point. All he could think was 'what if.'
He'd wanted to go out and look but everyone told him he was being too protective- that he should lay off.

Peter could be anywhere, he could be fucking dead, he-

His thoughts were cut off at the dog barking at something.

It was the kid.

He staggered through the window, looking perfectly fucking fine. Tessa gave a proud, toothy smile in finding her boy and began jumping around him excitedly.

Tony would be just as excited if the wave of anger he felt wasn't so overwhelming.

"Where the hell were you?! Do you have any idea what time it is? I've been calling you for hours and-"

Peter had no reaction to the man's questioning, and just stumbled into his arms, face pressed against his shoulder.

Shit.

The man was confused for a moment, about to say something else, thinking he had gone out just to get in a fight yet again, but then he felt Peter gasp in a shaky breath.

He was crying.

The anger and frustration Tony had felt just seconds before was washed away with worry. He wrapped a hand around his trembling shoulders and placed another on the back of his head. Ignoring all the eyes on him from the team, he tries to lean over to look at him but his face is hidden.

"Hey, hey... what's wr-"

"I'm sorry," Peter stuttered, his voice broken. "I'm sorry I'm sorry."

"Pete..."

To spare the kid the embarrassment he knew he'd feel later on at the fact he let himself be so upset in front of the avengers, Tony guided him around the corner into his room.

He helped him to the bed, just now noticing the
limp.

To say he felt like an asshole was a major understatement.

Unable to stop himself, he pulls his mask off to reveal Peter's messy hair and the wounds that were scattered across his face. Overwhelmed with hurt for him, Tony's hands shoots forward to cup his chin but he stays at a hover to avoid aggravating any cuts and yellowish bruises.

"Kid, what happened?"

Peter didn't answer, though, he looks ashamed. He darts his eyes away and tears fill his eyes to the brim. He looks away and brushes a few tears away with his hand.

He's trying to hide, Tony realises.

"Hey, it's ok," he says quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's ok, we don't have to talk yet. Give yourself a second."

They sit on the bed as Peter makes an effort to compose himself. Within the span of a few minutes, Tony's anxieties heighten and his heart thumps just as his leg does, bouncing in its place.

He wasn't going to push Peter though. They both knew that'd never get them anywhere. Pepper always says how he's met his match in stubbornness.

Though he wasn't going to push yet, he offers to check for injuries. Peter nods his head slowly.

Karen, having moved to his phone for the time being, gives him a run down but just to check the severity of it, he takes a look at a few of them. His wrist is twisted and he's got a gash on his arm, the suit material around it shredded away and wet with blood. The suit is an easy fix though. Peter flinches away when his hand brushed against his side, so that pretty much confirmed at least a few broken or bruised ribs. Two of his fingers were broken- not badly but still swollen and blue. A piece of debris had also apparently cut into his foot. Everything is in the process of healing but the more he saw, the more his worry increased.

What'd happened? He hadn't had that helpless look in his eyes since May died. Was it about her?

He didn't get the chance to think any further when he finally spoke.

" 'S' my fault," he mumbled, voice wobbly. He looked sick saying the words.

Tony remains confused. "Sorry?"

"The reason May died."

"I... Peter..."

"I-I could've stopped it. I could've saved her- It's Ben all over again. I- I should've-"

"Done nothing. None of this is your fault. She got in a car accident," Tony stressed, making his tone stern to get it through Peter's brain.

It wasn't his fault. God, this kid didn't deserve all this pain and guilt.

"She didn't," he shook his head, a desperate look in his eye, "She... she got killed- she- I saw him tonight and he said he killed her-"

"Who?"

"He set something up in May's car and-and-"

"Who Peter?"

"Dagger! His-his name was Lucas Dagger- He set something up in her car and it made her crash and then he killed her!"

Tony was quiet for a moment from shock as he watched Peter hunch forward and let out a sound of pure grief. He's confident he felt his heart actually break.

God, he's dizzy.

It was the night he brought Peter home from the hospital all over again. Though, he's debating whether this was worse. This- This was him blaming himself for a murder.

"That's- god, That's not your fault kid-"

"I let his family die!" He sobbed, pulling away from Tony and beginning to pace. He tipped his head to the ceiling. His facial expression looked broken and disturbed. "He- I was supposed to save them and I didn't and they died. And because I didn't do what I was supposed to, he- I didn't-," he sucks in a hysteric breath, "I killed her-"

Stark got up off the bed and approached Peter once again. He stood in place, facing away from him as he brings a hand to his face.

"Oh god," he croaks. "She- I-"

Tony turns him around gently and gathers him into his arms. It was as if his strings were cut- he became limp. Then, he wrapped his arms around Tony's shoulders.

"I got you. I've got you, kid."

He pressed his face into Tony's shoulder, allowing the dam to break completely.

"I miss May," he said, shaking with cries, "I miss her, Tony I want her back."

"I know... I miss her too.."

Tony doesn't remember the two of them sliding down to the hardwood floors. Nor does he know how long they sat there. He felt physical pain at Peter's sadness, as if his heart chipped away piece by agonising piece as he'd held fists of Tony's shirt in his hands and just sobbed, but he'd stay there as long as he needed.

He wanted to find this- this sick human being that did this to May, to Peter. He wanted to find the man that had just made him as vulnerable as possible, and took advantage of it, and obviously tried to- to-

He'd tried to kill Peter too.

Peter had been lucky to get out of there alive.

A part of Tony felt the urge to leave now, to take care of it immediately. To not sleep until he fixed this. Though, when he felt how Peter's rapidly beating heart slowed ever so slightly at his presence, he decided it was more important to be here now.

They'd take care of it tomorrow.

For now though, he did all he could, holding Peter tight, as if he would break.

When he finally fell asleep, Tony stared into space for a while, his mind only focusing on how he'd get that guy in prison.

He's sitting against the headboard now, head facing the ceiling fan while Peter is underneath the covers, hopefully at peace for now.

He prays he's dreaming of something nice.

Acting on an instinct that he's been oppressing for a while now, Tony lowers his head and presses a kiss to Peter's hair.

That asshole made a mistake giving Peter his full name.

He'd fix this.