Tony stares at the guy for a good amount of time, one eyebrow raised quizzically; a mixture of hilarity and disbelief. Both of them - him and Peter, that is - are wearing their suits, save for the helmet; Peter’s expression is one more of pale shock. The suit hides the way his hands have started trembling.
“Huh,” Tony says eventually. “Yeah, not happening. Thanks for the hearing, Hellboy. Come on, Pete.”
He starts walking back in the direction they came, but Peter stays where he is, sort of matching that deer-in-headlights look. Outcome doesn’t matter - one of them’s not going to see the other ever again, and that sets him on the cusp of some brutal sense of panic.
“Uh, Mr. Stark,” Peter says. “I don’t think he’s kidding.”
“Yeah…” Tony turns back to face him. “We’ll get it another way, kid.”
“How? The only person to have the soul stone was Thanos! Plus - we don’t even have enough Pym Particles to make another trip!”
Tony sighs. “When did you get all” - He waves a hand - “logical.”
“Okay. You go wait at the ship. When you get the stone, get out of this shithole.”
“Mr. Stark, I’m not letting you…”
“And I’m not letting you,” Tony answers, but it’s gentle. He puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We are not having this conversation.” With that he gives it a small squeeze, reassuring, failing.
Peter meets his eyes for a long time, and the determination settles in equal measure, two opposing ends of some cosmic scale. He gives the faintest inclination of a nod. And then he says:
Before Tony can raise his hands in defence, Peter has strung thick webbing around his arms and ankles and pulled it taut. He doesn’t wait for Tony to hit the ground before he starts sprinting for the cliff’s edge, ignoring the terror pulsing in his chest and behind his eyelids, the gnawing sensation at the back of his head that tries to keep him out of danger-
Then Tony tackles him. Peter sees the singed webs on the rocks as he goes down, a few feet from the ledge. Tony’s faceplate slides off.
“Look at me, kid,” he says, pinning Peter’s wrists. “Listen to me. There are people on Earth who need you once this is over. Who need you right now.”
Peter knows he can get Tony away from him, a strong kick would do it - and even his wrists aren’t being held as tightly as Tony’s suit can clasp. But he doesn’t struggle - not yet, anyway - because it’s probably the last conversation he and Tony Stark are ever going to have.
“Think of your Aunt May, huh?” Tony continues. He tries to make light of it, then - like they didn’t just sit in a spaceship whilst the colours of whole galaxies blurred their peripherals. “I’m toast either way, right? ‘Cause I go home without you, she’ll kill me. And you know - I wouldn’t blame her.”
“What about Morgan?” Peter asks. He tries not to think about May, turning the fabric of his mask over and over in her fingers. Staining the lens with dried tear-spots.
Tony’s expression shifts, only slightly, but then he smiles. “She’s got you.”
Peter nods. Then he kicks Tony off of him and rolls to the side - his fingers could grace the edge now - and pushes himself quickly to his feet. Tony’s repulsors whir, and a beam of yellow-white throws Peter off-balance.
“Spider-Man, stand down,” Tony says, voice metal-twinged by the helmet that has slipped over his face. “I don’t wanna lay you out but I will.”
“I know,” Peter says evenly. “But so will I.”
He webs Tony’s boots to the ground, holds it for a few solid seconds until he’s sure they’re well-and-truly plastered. He runs.
“Karen!” Tony yells. “Override code 21-87. Primary user: Tony Stark.”
Peter pushes off from the ground, hovers for a brief moment out from the ledge-
Tony kicks the residual webbing off his shoe and shoots up into the air.
“Activate webshooters!” He calls.
Peter’s wrist rears back and his eyes go wide at the same time in shock - he looks up at Tony as the man catches the web, pulling Peter back onto the (questionable) safety of the rocks.
“Put him in lockdown,” Tony says.
Peter watches wide-eyed as the robotic legs shoot from the back of his suit, drawing together until they can lift Peter ever-so-slightly off the ground. The mask comes back over his face automatically, the lenses still bright and panicked.
“Mr. Stark-“ Peter tries, and the limbs lock into place, too; he hovers there trying to kick his legs and rip his arms through the metal, but without the space of movement he can’t even raise a hand.
“It’s gonna be okay, kid,” Tony says. He raises his hand to his chest and rips the reactor off; looks down at it for a moment, then gently approaches Peter and sticks it to the kid’s chest instead. “You hold onto that for me.”
“No, no, I don’t want it, Mr. Stark, please, please, let me out-“
Tony half-smiles. He looks like he’s trying not to cry.
“I’m not one for sappy speeches, kid, as much as you - warrant one. Besides, I’ve no idea how long that suit can hold you. Never - tested it. It was just another safety net in case one of the bad guys got your suit. Just looking out for the little guy.”
He taps the button at Peter’s shoulder and his mask retracts. Peter’s eyes are puffy.
“Mr. Stark, come on, just let me out-”
“You did good,” Tony says. “I’m proud to call you an Avenger.”
“Mr. Stark, Tony-“ Peter cries hysterically. “Let me go, let me do it-“
Tony cups his cheek gently, then he turns away. He walks to the edge of the cliff and looks down, raising an eyebrow at the distance to the ground. He glances at the guardian.
“Overkill, don’t ya think? Fall could’ve been - shorter.”
When he doesn’t respond, Tony says: “Thanks for nothing, Elmo. Those would’ve been terrible last words.”
He backs up a little. In the background Peter thrashes inside the suit, and for a brief terrifying moment two of the legs seem to wobble.
“I love ya, kid,” Tony says, and then he’s gone.
“TONY!” Peter yells. He squeezes his eyes shut and gives one more shove, and the legs give out; he falls to the floor and scrambles to his feet, heart pounding, pounding, pounding - he gets to the ledge and he leaps, and thunder roars overhead, and then -
And then Peter wakes up. He’s staring up at a dark swirling sky. There’s a blue light emanating from his chest, and a rock in the place of a father.
Peter throws it, and he buries his head into his knees and sobs.
annaxmalina
blakekathryn
stormborns
origamiaround
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2087
