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backtothefanfiction · 1 year ago

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Kinktober '23 | DAY 2: The Bet and the Costume Contest

Prompt: RolePlay

Summary: You enter into a bet with your couples costume contest partner.

Warnings: SMUT!! Roleplay, costumes, PinV, upskirt, frat!Peter

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Day 2, here we go!!! I did watch Buffy as a kid but have yet to watch properly as an adult despite it being on my list of things to do but hopefully still reads okay. Also I just rushed the second half of this so apologies if the tense is messed up.

It was just your luck. Of course you would have been paired with him. It was Brianna’s fault really. She was the one who had come up with this whole idea of partnering with your Theta Beta Pi brothers to do a couples costume contest as part of this year's Halloween Bash. All the girls had put their names into a hat and each of the boys took turns picking a name out and of course you had been picked by Peter Parker. You had decided to go as Buffy and Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or at least you thought you had until you turned up at the house in a mini skirt, wooden stake in hand and a bleached blonde, leather clad Parker, ran down the stairs and straight into you.

“THERE’S MY BUFFY!” he beamed.

“What did you do to your hair?!”

“I’m Spike. I thought it would be more fun. Plus I figured we’d be a shoe in to win due to my dedication alone.” He said pointing to his head.

“Oh my god!” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

As the night went on you had to admit, the blonde, although it did make him look quite sleazy, was actually quite hot. You also had to commend his dedication to the character and the bit as he kept shouting out Spike quotes the whole night. “AND YOU’RE WHAT? SHOCKED AND DISAPPOINTED? I’M EVIL!” He shouted when the two of you won at beer pong against a pair dressed as Mario and Princess Peach.

“Cup of tea, cup of tea, almost got shagged, cup of tea.” he said as he handed out drinks to your small congregated group as you sat sharing a joint in the garden.

“First I’ll kill her, then I’ll save her.” he said, wrapping an arm around you and dipping you over it as he showed off in front of his fraternity brothers.

“PETER!” You squealed.

“Peter? Who is this Peter? There’s no Peter here, my name is Spike.”

He had called you Buffy for the whole night too. “Where has my Buffy gone?” he would cry as he moved through rooms in the house looking for you. “BUFFY? Excuse me, have you seen the chosen one?” he asked one girl.

“What Harry Potter?” she responded. He just bared his fake fangs and hissed at her.

“Yo Parker!” One of his frat brothers, Josh, called to him across the room, directing him back to the group of you sat around the coffee table in the living room.

You budged up a little on the seat, giving him room to squeeze in beside you (he won’t sit anywhere else).

“So Parker, you’re pretty confident about winning this costume contest.” Josh said. He’s dressed up as Sonny, Alannah is somewhere else in the house dressed as Cher.

“I mean, yeah. Look at us man.” Peter shot back confidently.

“You willing to put a bet on it?” Josh taunted.

“Oh we are not winning.” You mumbled from your seat beside Peter. The only thing he’s got going for him is the hair, apart from that the two of you look basic compared to other costumes, there’s a really good Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein hanging around somewhere.

“Then you shouldn’t have any trouble with placing a bet then.” Josh drunkenly goaded.

“What and you think you’re gonna win?” You said back.

“Oh no, I know we aren’t going to win. I’m talking about you two. You know Parker’s always had a crush on Buffy.”

At Josh’s words Peter squirmed a little beside you but tried his best to hide it, eager to see how you’d react.

“Is that so?” You questioned.

“Yup!” Josh said confidently. “If you guys win, Parker gets his dream come true and gets to fuck Buffy.” He throws out.

“Fine. Deal.” Your drunken brain responded hastily. There’s no way you guys are winning. “Okay and what if we lose?”

“Okay, what do you want?” Josh asked on Peter’s behalf. He’s being uncharacteristically quiet for this whole exchange.

“If we lose the contest, which we will,” you reassure, “you guys have to bring a litre bottle of vodka to every party just for me, until the end of the year.”

“Deal.”

“And by end of the year I mean school year, not just Christmas break.”

Peter and Josh hesitate a sec but Josh is quick to solidify the deal, holding his hand out for you to shake. And that was how you ended up with Peter Parker tied to your bedframe with the tie from your bathrobe. You were sure it had to have been rigged, there really was no way you should have won.

“Peter, I feel silly.”

“Just go with it, I promise it’s all good.”

“Pete, I haven’t even seen that much of the show.”

“It’s vampires and magic and supernatural stuff, it’s all cool just, make it up.”

‘Fine’ you thought as you rolled your eyes.

“I’ve been checking Giles’s books and there's only one way to cure this type of evil.” you said as you began to slowly walk across the room to him. He gives you a devilish look and you have to admit, paired with the blonde hair it does make you weak in the knees.

He watches you closely as you come to a stop beside the bed. His eyes follow your fingers as you slide them up your legs and underneath your skirt, hooking your thumbs into your underwear and pulling them down your legs. He goes to frustratedly moan as you tease him but the moment his mouth is wide enough, you shove your panties into his mouth.

“UUUhhh FuuCK!” his voice mumbles into the fabric as his head lulls back.

You climb up onto the bed, hooking your leg over his hips to straddle him. You reach behind you for the stake, sitting at the end of his bed, running it down his chest. “You need to hold still okay. Do you trust me?” you asked him in character. He nodded.

When your hand trails down to undo his trousers he is hard and he whispers slightly as his sensitive tip brushes past the fabric of his boxers as you pull them down far enough to release him. You reach for a condom, rolling it down onto his length before you lift yourself to hover over him and slowly lower yourself onto his cock.

His eyes watch intensely as his length slips out of view underneath your skirt. With the way he’s looking at you, you have to admit, maybe you were getting more into this than you first thought you would. He moans as you ride his cock, grinding your hips down into his pelvic bone before lifting back off again, his skin dragging across your slit and it feels so good. His cock feels so good as he fills you out.

You know you told him to stay still but you don’t have it in you to punish him when he starts rolling his hips and thrusting up into you. You quickly realise though he’s close, his thrusts getting quicker as he chases his high. He mumbles words around your panties. You are reluctant to do it but you remove them from his mouth to hear what he has to say.

“Thank you.” he sighs first and just pants for a little bit between grunts as you continue to ride his dick, your walls tightening with every up lift before you slam your hips back down again.

“Fuck, fuck, yes Buffy. Fuck that evil out of me.” he says and if it wasn’t for the fact you were actually so close you would have just got off and left him hanging but you are so close now you want your own finish. “Lift your skirt, let me see.” he asks. You raise your eyebrows at him. “Please.” he quickly adds and you oblige lifting up the sides of your skirt so it sits above your hips. “Oh yeah.” he moans. “Touch yourself.” he says and you don’t know why but you do as he says, your fingers moving to rub circles over your clit.

It sends you over the edge and he cries out “OH FUCK!” as your walls clamp down around him.

You can feel his hips stutter, once, then twice, then he stills as you feel him fill the condom inside you.

He lets out a long sigh of relief as you begin to ease yourself off him. “What do you say, Parker?”

“Thank you Miss Summers.” You just roll your eyes.

------------------------

kINkToBEr taG LiST

you want the tag, you have to tell me in writing!

@jakobsdump @https-laiyana @tarzinnia

#kinktober 2023 #backtothefanfiction kinktober #peter parker smut #Peter Parker x reader #frat!peter #roleplay #buffy #costume contest #andrew!peter parker #peter parker #peter parker imagine #spider-man #frat!Peter x reader

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ironspiderfics · 1 year ago

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hush little spider

by @iron--spider for @whimsicalethnographies

Tony dreams of clouds.

No, a bubble. A bubble that’s wispy and purple and green and he’s inside it and he’s floating and it’s hard to breathe. The world outside warps and they can’t hear him. He’s high above New York and he’s a spectacle but they still can’t hear him.

He opens his eyes just the slightest bit and sees Pepper already dressed. He groans, and she laughs in that breathy way that she does and she leans over and kisses his cheek.

“No,” he grunts, still half-asleep. “Nope. Canceled. It’s canceled, I’m canceling it.”

“I’ll be back tonight,” she laughs, kissing the corner of his mouth this time.

“Pete’s still here, right?” Tony asks, struggling to keep one eye open.

“Yeah,” Pepper says, stuffing a few things in her purse. “He and Ned—actually fell asleep in the lower lab, something I’ve never seen anybody else do—ever—how strange…”

Tony snorts, closing his eye again. “Only the occasional…similarity…”

He hears her zipping her purse, and she kisses his cheek again. “Sleep in—sleep in for once in your life.”

He turns his face into the pillow. “We’ll see,” he says, not anticipating sleeping any later than seven or eight, because the only times he does that are when he’s nearly been killed or some shit. Maimed beyond repair. Worrying about Rhodey so much he passes out, recovering from watching Spider-Man nearly die, things like that—

But sleep is already dragging him back down again, as if it wants him, as if it’ll let him stay a while.

And he dreams again. Dreams about almost losing his left arm, and his dream morphs reality and his false worries together like bad patchwork—arm, no arm, iron arm, half an arm, iron man, no arm, arm—he sees himself in bed he sees himself hobbling around he sees the line of suitors outside his door, all the people he knew loved him, all the ones he thought didn’t, everyone ready to start over with no qualms no teams no past mistakes, and he can hear his own voice strung up like Christmas lights saying it wasn’t just me. It wasn’t. But they’re here for him. They’re here to thank him. Here to comfort him.

His dream is a flipbook of that time—things that happened twisted with things that didn’t, the kid saying he wasn’t going on that Europe trip and Tony’s secret relief, Pepper scaling the side of the newly acquired tower, which was re-acquired but definitely not scaled, at least not by her—Happy starting to date May, yes, and Tony sees an array of dates he never saw but some he heard about, and the twenty-two or so pizzas feels fake, too.

His dreams are wacky sometimes—most of the time—and this feels like a play, almost, and he’s the only audience member, and he feels like something shuts down—

And there is a stage. Shakespeare in the Park, and he’s standing in the rows of hard chairs and Peter is on the stage alone.

“Pete?” Tony calls to him. “You okay?”

“I’m playing Hamlet,” Peter says, and he’s wearing a top hat.

“You’re not supposed to say that in a theater,” Tony says, even though they’re not really in a theater, because he can see the sky. The stars. There’s grass under his feet.

Is that right? Hamlet? Not allowed? Is it him that’s not allowed? Dreams are wrong. Dreams are facts that aren’t facts.

He hears something shutting down. The wind stops and all the trees go still.

“Did you hear that?” Tony asks, glancing up at Peter again.

Like a computer shutting down the wrong way. He heard it plenty of times in college, in his many impatient moments.

It sounds like it’s everywhere. In his ear canals.

“Pete, did you hear that?” Tony asks, starting to walk down the middle aisle.

Peter looks at him, and shakes his head, and he’s standing under a spotlight now. “I don’t hear anything,” he whispers.

Tony startles awake, and the air feels stale.

He can tell the power’s off immediately.

He says Friday.

Except he doesn’t say it.

He looks around, eyes narrowed. The room is dark, the blackout shades still enabled, and he says Friday again, except he doesn’t say it.

He sits up in bed, his heart hammering. He rubs his throat a little bit, and tries to clear it. He can hear that, and he does it a few more times, and then he says Friday, but still, he doesn’t say it, the word doesn’t come out, his mouth moves and he shakes his head and tries to enunciate but still, no word, just silence.

He sucks in a couple frustrated breaths, and he pulls himself over to the bedside table and picks up his phone.

It’s dead. He tries to turn it on again and it’s dead and it’s fucking plugged in, and still, dead, and he unplugs it and tries to turn it back on, two, three, four times, and then he’s tossing it onto the bed and leaning back against the pillows.

He stares off. He feels insane. Maybe he’s still dreaming.

He pinches his arm and puts that to bed, and his heart starts speeding up again.

He closes his eyes. Tries to calm down.

He says Friday.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say it.

His voice is gone.

He can’t fucking talk, the power is out and his phone is dead.

And he’s not sick—he wasn’t screaming, there’s no reason for it—

This is an attack. It has to be.

He runs his hands over his face, heaving a sigh, trying to—catalog things in his head.

Why did this happen who did it is he still here what’s been compromised how did he do it is he more than one person and if so how many can they turn on backup power without their voices can they get out of the building easily or are they trapped who is inside right now who stays here overnight who was still working who could have—

Shit. He says it, but he doesn’t say it, because…because.

How the fuck—

Peter is here. Peter and Ned.

Tony wants to curse and shout but he gets out of bed and moves for the closet.

Peter wakes up to someone hitting him. He narrows his eyes and sits up from his very uncomfortable sleeping position on the workbench, and Ned is hitting him and hitting him and hitting him.

It’s dark in here, he can barely see, what is going on—

Peter says hey but the word doesn’t come out, and Ned hits him and hits him and hits him again. He’s not hitting him with any real force but he’s like a very panicked butterfly, and Peter tries to say his name but that word doesn’t come out either.

He clears his throat but before he knows it, Ned is grabbing his chin.

Ned’s mouth is moving very fast, but he’s not making any words either. He points to his own mouth and then Peter’s mouth and he shakes his head. He lets go of Peter and walks over to the desk and picks up both of their phones, holds them up and wiggles them around, and puts them down again. He points to the computers and the workstations and makes an X with his arms, and Peter stares at him.

Peter tries to say Ned but nothing comes out of his mouth but air.

Ned glares at him. He points up at the ceiling and he covers his eyes, and he does that three times. It feels like a really weird game of charades.

No lights. No power. Phones off too…

A little bit of fear creeps into Peter’s gut, and he sucks in a breath. He tries to say hello hello, but it doesn’t work, and Ned throws his arms up and they hit his legs.

Peter does it back at him.

They stare at each other in the darkness.

This is bad. Tony is here somewhere and Pepper could be too—and a bunch of other people probably—

He needs Tony’s help, Tony can figure this out, they can figure it out together—whatever it is—

Peter swallows hard and puts his fingers together to mime writing with a pencil. Ned just stares at him, and Peter widens his eyes and does it again, with more dramatic flair, and he starts searching through the desk. He doesn’t know the last time he’s seen Tony actually write anything down.

Ned is still just standing there and staring at him, so Peter huffs a sigh and slams his arms down on the desk and makes a very exaggerated scene of pretending to write, and Ned sort of goes oh without saying it, because—they can’t, for some reason—and he starts to help him look through the drawers.

Ned nudges Peter with his elbow. Peter nudges him back, and they’re sort of pushing back and forth for a second like they’re five years old at the watercolor table and not two adults in a situation.

Who the hell could do this? What is going on? How could someone steal their voices?

They look for five minutes before they find a stash of paper and a few pencils in the desk by the wall. The dark is starting to hurt Peter’s eyes, and Ned snatches a piece of paper out of his hand, and Peter scoffs and throws the second pencil at him.

They both hurriedly write out their messages.

Peter holds his up.

WE NEED TO FIND TONY AND WE NEED TO SEE IF WE CAN GET OUT OF THE BUILDING AND WE NEED TO SEE IF THE TECHNOLOGY SITUATION IS AFFECTING MY SUIT THE ONLY ONE I HAVE HERE IS THE NEW SCARLET SPIDER ONE TONY AND I WERE WORKING ON AND IT’S IN THE LAB ON LEVEL 14 SO WE ALSO HAVE TO CHECK OUT THE ELEVATOR SITUATION AND SEE WHAT IS GOING ON FROM THERE AND THE LIVING QUARTERS ARE ON LEVEL 42 SO WE ARE REALLY IN A SITUATION AND WE HAVE TO BE CAREFUL WHEN WE LEAVE THIS ROOM BECAUSE ANYTHING COULD BE OUT THERE SO JUST STAY BEHIND ME

Ned stands there and squints and reads the whole thing. He steps a little closer and finally finishes, nodding, and he swallows hard.

He holds up his paper.

so this could be aliens

Tony doesn’t like not being able to use his voice. His voice is his greatest weapon, and one he uses often, in every situation, whether he’s quipping at a giant purple asshole trying to bring the world to its knees or bargaining with Pepper about the need for cookie dough ice cream.

And he keeps forgetting he can’t use it, and he keeps almost yelling out as he surveys the halls—empty, mostly, up here, because he guesses the kid stayed down in the lab all night with his buddy. Rhodey is supposed to show up tomorrow, and Happy might have been out of the tower already before whatever the hell happened…happened…and Natasha is in Chicago with Clint and his family and Thor is still off-world and Steve is in Brooklyn for that anniversary thing—Barnes and Wilson might be here, somewhere, maybe. They’re here sometimes. Tony really needs to get better at keeping up with who’s here and when. He knows Friday knows, but Friday is out of commission, and whatever the hell is going on with his voice is keeping him from resetting her and the system.

Purposeful. Smart. Too smart.

He arrives at the main stairwell and sees—it’s caved the fuck in. Like a controlled explosion, and he can’t go down or up, and he peers over what’s left of the railing and sees a few of the other stairwells look the same.

Who the hell is blowing shit up in here and he didn’t hear it? How would he not hear that?

He wants to say shit and he tries but he fucking can’t and he rushes over and hits the wall next to the elevator instead. Not even hard enough to make a dent, and he sighs and presses the button a bunch of times. He knows it won’t work, but he does it anyway.

And then the whole building groans, like the unmistakable sound of a wounded Titanic slowly sinking, and Tony stands still, eyes cutting around manically.

He has a horrible thought that they’re trying to bring the building down, whoever the hell ‘they’ are, but why all the theatrics? Why the shit with his voice? Is that happening to everyone? Is that happening to Peter?

Tony sets his jaw, the thought of the kid bringing things back into focus, and the metallic moaning and groaning stops.

No matter what’s going on, there are innocent people in this building, and Peter is one of them. Tony has to start making his way down, and maybe he can find a suit he can activate manually. Maybe this tech crash didn’t affect his suits, but he won’t know until he finds one, and they’re down where Peter is. Slim chance, but it’s something to shoot for.

He feels like he can hear footsteps. On this floor, on others, and it’s underlined in the silence, in the lack of screaming for help.

He’s gotta get to the back stairwell and see if that’s intact, and he swallows hard and heads that way. He weaves around, and he feels like he’s thinking more now that he can’t talk out loud—

—gotta find the kid gotta see if we can get out cover the exits try to make contact with anybody else on the team might be here gotta find the manual overrides that don’t require voice activation and that’s probably zero considering my paranoia and there has to be backdoors for that to get around it and what if we’re stuck in the building because we probably are because who would go to all this trouble just to let us walk right out and thank God Pepper isn’t here that’s one less thing to worry about and if only Rhodey was a day early even though I don’t want him trapped in here either and Jesus who else is in here, it’s a weekend, who’d be staying, Jesus, gotta get to Peter, and Ned, Ned’s here too, can’t talk, can’t talk, it must be everyone—

—and this atrium is filled with sunshine from the long line of windows, and Tony jogs over there to see if—to see if—

He tries to say that’s not a cloud out loud but, of course, he can’t, just tiny newborn kitten mouth movements, and he huffs at himself and rolls his eyes and he’s seconds from a tantrum that he hope they’ll watch and laugh at on the cameras three days from now oh wait the cameras are fucking off—

—but either goddamn way the tower is surrounded by something greenish purplish nebulous…like they’re inside someone’s chemistry experiment—

This time, when he tries to say shit he tries to say it with such force that he gets out the rush of breath that would start the ‘s’, if not anything else.

So he races towards the back stairwell hissing and shushing over and over to himself like an angry librarian or an oncoming train.

Ned runs out of paper.

And Peter doesn’t know how the hell he did that—well he sort of does, because he’s been wasting the paper on dumb stuff, like worrying about aliens, and sure, that’s a completely normal worry, but how many times is he gonna write it? And then waste the paper? He’s gone back to pick up paper he’s dramatically thrown to the ground like eight times. As if they’re walking around in some post-apocalyptic wasteland and not Stark Tower.

Ned is tugging on Peter’s arm for more paper, and Peter turns around and holds up one finger at him. Ned shrugs at him and Peter feels like they’re not making any progress at all—they saw the screwed up staircases, and they could maybe get around those, maybe, and they saw the weird shit outside the windows which makes him think this is some magic spell or something—well, obviously, you can’t just steal people’s voices with a special remote—but he’s gotta see—he’s gotta see if he can get outside.

And he’s having crazy ideas about how to—do that.

If they just would have figured out how to teleport like in Star Trek then they wouldn’t be having this problem at all.

Peter sighs and then he sees one of the classrooms Tony carved out for team meetings, once he re-acquired the tower, and he has an idea. He points at the classroom to Ned, ignores his immediate defensiveness, and he heads over there.

Ned grabs onto his shoulder, and maybe Ned is missing the sound of his voice. Peter has to remember that Ned isn’t exactly used to situations like this, and he pats his hand, but then he turns around and indicates that he’s gonna knock down the door.

It only takes one hit, and the door slams to the ground, and Peter sees the whiteboard on the wall that he remembers Tony writing on, and Sam snickering at.

And within a minute or two, he’s ripped off two relatively equal squares of it, and found two dry erase markers. And when Ned catches on, they make two paperclip necklaces and hang the boards around their necks.

Ned immediately writes on his.

SO SMART PETER

Peter draws a big smiley face with a bunch of teeth. And then he writes.

THANKS. OKAY NOW I GOTTA TRY TO JUMP OUT THE WINDOW.

Ned’s face falls.

The building makes more noises, and Tony tries to determine if he thinks it’s actually moving. He hears banging, more footsteps, and he chalks that up to other people trying to get around, and he can’t count how many times he tries to yell out like a moron only to be met with more silence. He’s running down the stairs as fast as he can, his thoughts almost painting themselves outside of his head, in big bold read letters hanging in the air—

And he’s breathing hard and he feels like he’s hearing things by floor 35 and is he hearing—laughter? Who’s laughing? He can’t laugh, so he’s assuming—who would be laughing in this scenario except the person who caused it?

Here somewhere, in the shadows, lying in wait—

And the laughter seems to echo, and it sounds like it’s getting closer, and more intense, like this person laughing is everywhere and right next to him all at once—

And normally Tony would be shouting obscenities and trying to pump himself up with long soliloquies but he can’t do that, he can only breathe, and panic, and he thinks about the kid somewhere in this building, voiceless and in danger—

And he nearly trips on the landing to floor 34 and someone catches him—

And he pushes this person away and his heart is in his throat, beating and beating and choking him, and he doesn’t have a suit and he immediately drops into a defensive stance, one fist cocked by his face and the other outstretched, and Rhodey smacks his hand down and huffs at him.

Tony stares. So many words are on the tip of his tongue, held back by brick walls, and Rhodey huffs again and gives him a little smile and Tony grabs onto his arms. Rhodey grabs Tony’s too, and for a second they’re—jumping? Up and down? And they realize they’re doing it immediately and they stop and then Tony pulls him into a hug.

He rolls his eyes at himself, his face burning, but hey, Rhodey was doing it too.

They pull back, and Tony pats Rhodey’s shoulders. He points at him, throws his hands up, as if asking when the hell did you get here. Rhodey narrows his eyes at him, waves his hands through the air, backwards, as if trying to convey—who the fuck knows.

Tony still can’t believe he’s in front of him, and they need to get somewhere with more light. He points down, tries to tug him forward, but Rhodey shakes his head. He gets close to Tony’s face, and mouths words. If it was anybody else, Tony wouldn’t be able to interpret it, but it’s him, so he can.

CANNOT GET OUT OF BUILDING. TRAPPED.

Tony nods—he figured as much—but he tugs on Rhodey’s wrist anyway. He mimes shooting a web, does an exaggerated version of Peter’s swinging, and points down again. Realization dawns on Rhodey’s face, and he points down with raised eyebrows, and Tony points down too. Rhodey nods at him, and he starts down the stairs, linking his arm through Tony’s.

The silence doesn’t feel as heavy, with him here.

And they try to pass little messages back and forth, through hand gestures and lip reading, and Tony finds out that Rhodey put a couple people from payroll in a safe room on the 20th floor, barring the door that Friday would normally seal. The front and back exits are completely blocked, and one guy from marketing tried to get through and was unceremoniously bounced back inside by some unknown force. Rhodey’s been hearing the laughter too, and the building groaning, and he’s seen the shit outside the window. He thinks someone is here, waiting to pounce, or maybe more than one someone—

And they walk down to the 18th floor landing and Peter’s body is splayed out against the door in a mess of blood.

Ned underlines his NO. He makes it bolder. He shoves it in Peter’s face.

Peter sighs. He holds up his message again.

IF I CAN GET OUT I CAN CRAWL UP THE BUILDING—

Ned rubs away Peter’s message with his hand. Peter sighs, and Ned writes underneath his NO.

YOU KNOW THERE’S PURPLEGREEN JELLY OUT THERE OR WHATEVER THAT IS AND IT CAN EAT YOU AND ABSORB YOU MAYBE. AND IF YOU DO GET OUT UR LEAVING ME HERE.

Peter sighs again. He misses his voice, he misses both of their voices. He takes a few steps away from Ned, braces his board on the wall, and writes what he hopes is the kicker.

If I get out, I can climb down, and I will probably get my voice back, and I can connect to Friday from one of the remote facilities down the street, and I can turn her back on in the building, and then Tony will take over and save everybody and everything and find the bad guy inside. And I’ll come back and help!!!!!!

Ned reads it. He squints at it, and he does that every time, and it makes Peter think he needs glasses. He hasn’t ever watched him read this much.

Ned sighs.

Ned sighs pointedly.

Peter nods at him and hopes that’s the end of it, and they already discussed where he would go if this worked the way it’s supposed to, and it probably will, so he sighs again and hangs Peter’s board around his neck too, and grips both markers in his hands.

Peter hugs him, fast and tight, trying to soothe him and give himself some sort of confidence too, and he knows he can’t waffle around for too long—so he doesn’t make eye contact with Ned again, and he rushes towards the window, heading for it with his right shoulder.

And he bursts through—and he’s blasted through plenty of windows in his life so he’s not exactly surprised he’s able to do it—and there’s glass everywhere and he shields his face and maybe he should have thought this through a little more but the tower is hard to traverse right now to find shit, and he barely has any time to even breathe the outside air or perceive the weird gelatinous cloud before some otherworldly force is launching him back inside.

It’s like he’s in the palm of someone’s giant hand, and he can feel his voice on the other side of that purplegreen cloud, he can feel it, and it dies away as soon as he collapses back onto the floor at Ned’s feet.

Ned’s forgotten he can’t talk. His mouth is moving rapid fire, and he bends down in front of Peter and keeps not talking and Peter just stares at him, flabbergasted. Peter has cuts from the glass all over him, and the wind is whipping around through the newly created hole, and he feels like he can hear the purplegreen cloud. Wobbling and squishing.

He covers Ned’s mouth with his hand, still staring out the window, and it seems to jolt Ned back into their current situation. He quickly takes off Peter’s board, puts it back around Peter’s neck, and he shoves the marker into Peter’s hand. Then he takes off his own and starts writing on it.

OKAY it says, in shaky hand NOW I’M FOR SURE ABOUT ALIENS

Tony feels like he’s doused in ice, frozen in his tracks, unable to breathe. And he can’t talk and if he could talk he doesn’t know if he would be screaming and shouting or just like this—aghast, horrified, and he nearly trips down the stairs trying to get to him—

Even in the darkness Peter doesn’t look like he’s breathing—

And Tony drops to his knees beside him and—

He’s gone.

Peter disappears.

Tony stares at the empty spot, and the silence is so loud that he can hear his heart stuttering and speeding up, and he runs his hands over the spot where he was the spot the empty spot what the fuck what the fuck—

He hears Rhodey coming down behind him, and he hauls him to his feet. Tony’s heart is still beating a mile a minute and his eyes are starry but not in the good way, and he wants to say something he wants to say something, and that’s when he hears the laughter.

OH TONY a voice says, a fucking voice, and it’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, and Tony has a hard time not falling back against Rhodey completely. HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED? WELL THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR, TONY. MAYBE IT WILL. MAYBE I’LL TAKE RHODEY TOO. AND ALL YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS IN THE BUILDING. AND YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO HELP AND YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO SCREAM OR CRY OR ANYTHING. AND THEN I’LL KILL YOU, TONY. YOU’LL BE LAST.

He recognizes the voice, and it laughs and laughs and the laughter fades and seems to dissipate in the air.

It sounds familiar—

But he feels like he can’t fucking breathe anymore. And they haven’t found Peter yet, and Tony keeps imagining him dead, and it feels more dire than it did—

And he shoves forward, doesn’t look at the place where Peter’s body was, or whatever the hell—

And Rhodey follows him out of the stairwell. Tony stumbles into the main atrium of whatever the hell floor they’re on now—and it looks like Stark offices from the brief look he gets before he bends over and braces his hands on his knees.

He tries to breathe. Rhodey rubs his back and sighs a couple times and this is feeling more and more sadistic. Who the hell is this guy? How did he do this? Tony can still hear the laughter, even though it’s silent again.

Silent, until he hears a banging.

It’s not the typical bad noises he’s been hearing since this shit started, and he straightens up and looks at Rhodey. Rhodey nods, and he hears it too, and he motions towards—the railing, where they can look down and see the other floors. It’s like that, from the 38th floor down to the main lobby, and he rushes over, Rhodey on his heels.

He tries to hold himself back, because it could be this asshole tricking him—but the banging keeps on and gets more manic.

They very slowly peer over the edge of the railing.

Peter and Ned leap into the air when they see them.

And they’re wearing tinfoil hats on their heads.

Peter can’t believe it. He can’t believe it’s him. He just so happened to be looking up right at the right time to see Tony run out and he thought he might be going crazy but then he saw Rhodey and it’s them it’s actually them, and he and Ned jump and clap and Tony looks at him like he’s never seen him before. Peter’s hands hurt from banging on the wall to get their attention, but it’s worth it.

The building starts to make those noises again, moaning and groaning like it’s structurally unsound, but Peter doesn’t trust it, because if it was actually collapsing, or moving somewhere at its base, he’d be able to feel it.

Peter points at Tony. Left stairwell? They were going up the right one. That’s so crazy. He forgets he’s got a board around his neck.

Tony holds up both hands as if to say STOP STAY THERE and then he’s out of sight before Peter can respond. With…whatever response he would have had. Rhodey races after him, and Peter blows out a breath and turns around and looks at Ned.

He grimaces. He saw Tony and instantly forgot about the hats they made a couple minutes ago when they found the tin foil. Ned is so concerned with aliens and now they look stupid.

Peter snatches it off of Ned’s head, and then his own, and Ned’s mouth falls open in betrayal. Peter puts them on the ground and quickly writes out a message on his board.

LISTEN I’VE DEALT WITH ALIENS BEFORE AND THOSE WEREN’T GONNA WORK ANYWAY.

Ned stares at him, and then calmly claws away part of his message.

Peter sighs, and then the stairwell door slams open.

He turns around and Tony is striding towards him.

And Peter always wants to feel capable and he’s pretty confident he is, but he always feels safer when Tony’s around. Like he can…really figure things out. Like he won’t get hurt, because Tony won’t let him.

And Tony wraps him up in a hug that Peter melts into, closing his eyes. Tony holds him tight, squeezing his shoulder, and Peter just lives in it for a second. Tony pulls back but keeps a hold of him, and Peter sees Rhodey and Ned sharing a little moment behind him.

Tony pats the board around Peter’s neck, nodding. Peter nods too, and he takes out the marker to write something, but Tony gently takes it out of his hand. He writes on the board, and turns it around for Peter to see. His letters are blocky and messy, and so very him.

You alright?

Peter nods at him. He points at him, raises his eyebrows, and Tony nods too. Tony immediately clocks the few cuts Peter sustained in the window incident, and he thumbs over one on Peter’s forehead.

Peter shrugs.

IT’S FINE he writes. I TRIED TO JUMP OUT THE WINDOW BUT IT BLEW ME BACK.

Tony narrows his eyes. He keeps one hand on Peter’s shoulder and knocks Rhodey on the arm, and they have a couple seconds of silent facial communication the likes of which Peter has never seen. Ned knocks Peter on the arm, and looks at him like he wants to replicate it, but he just wags his eyebrows at Peter and Peter has no clue what he wants to say.

Peter looks across the atrium at the weird cloud through the window. He wonders how far it goes up in the sky—it can’t be too far, it’s probably just…a little taller than the building. Maybe.

Would it cover it completely, like a bubble? Or is there an opening at the top, the roof exposed to open air because nobody’s up there? Is it worth checking out?

Anything is. Anything that might end this.

Now he’s thinking…

Ned sighs at Peter, and Peter pats Tony’s shoulder. Tony turns towards him again, and somehow he feels even more fatherly in this moment, dipping his head down to give Peter his undivided attention, stepping a little closer and gripping his shoulder. He was clearly worried, and Peter never really wants to worry him, but it feels…nice. Something crazy and insane is happening and Tony Stark is worried about him. He should be used to it by now, after all these years and everything they’ve been through, but he’s not. He doesn’t know if he ever will be.

Peter tries to focus, starts to write.

Is it even worth it to try and get our suits? I know yours wouldn’t work, because they’re all tech, but would mine? Probably not, right? We need to get Ned to a safe place because I have an idea

And the tail of his ‘a’ is drawn out when the four of them are swept into the air.

And Tony doesn’t realize it’s a fucking mini tornado inside the tower until he’s inside it, and it’s huge and big and picking up everything all around them too—chairs and computers and long tables, and one of the tables knocks Rhodey and Ned completely away from them. They’re spinning and being thrown around and Tony can barely see—like there’s suddenly Saharan dust in here—and he grabs onto Peter’s ankle before he can be tossed away from him too.

And for a minute it’s loud rushing, flying through the air, and what feels like a fucking phone hits him in the head and he sees stars, and he lets go of Peter—

And he wants to yell out but he can’t, he’s still silent, and he has no idea what the fuck is going on here or who is doing this or how, and he can see other people and faces and bodies and they’re all contorted in the same silent scream, and before he knows it Peter is flying at him and they’re both hitting a pillar—

And Peter is smashed against him and Tony can tell he’s sticking to the wall, making it so they don’t get thrown around anymore—

And he’s gritting his teeth and the forces of the fucking tornado are so strong that he can barely lift his arm, but he does, trying to shield the kid’s head—

And then it all falls, abruptly, everything drops everywhere in loud crashes and bangs, and he can hear windows breaking and other shit breaking but still no voices.

And then there’s the laughter.

Tony grabs onto Peter and Peter grabs him, hauling him to his feet. Tony feels dizzy and off-kilter from how many blows he took, and the laughter is moving in and out like a warped Led Zeppelin song, and it almost hurts his ears.

TONY TONY TONY the same voice as earlier says, as Peter grabs onto Tony’s arm and hauls him over to the railing. I’M COMING FOR YOU TONY AND EVERYONE YOU LOVE—YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY LITTLE WIFEY ISN’T HERE, BUT WE’VE GOT THE BEST FRIEND AND THE LOVE CHILD, HUH? WHICH ONE FIRST? OR SHOULD IT BE YOU? THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU STEAL SOMEONE’S WORK, TONY…SOMEONE LIKE ME, I’M NOT GOING TO BE…RATIONAL…

Peter is breathing hard, panicking, looking all around. They’re a lot higher up now, and Tony can see other people on the lower levels—he looks up, and it seems like there’s only one level above them, so they should be on the 37th floor now. Jesus.

The laughter starts again, and it gets so loud that it’s almost ear-piercing, and Tony holds one of his ears and one of Peter’s, out of instinct, he doesn’t know—

And then he sees Ned, a few floors down, at the edge of the railing. He pats Peter’s arm, and points, and Peter nearly wilts in relief. And before Tony can start worrying about Rhodey, he sees him rush over to the edge, two floors above Ned.

They all see each other at the same time.

And it takes a few minutes of rabid communication, wincing, and hand gestures, because neither Ned or Peter have their boards anymore, but they’re able to get Rhodey to start heading to where Ned is. And Tony is able to convey—something, to the other people who see him. Everyone is panicking, but they’re somehow soothed by his presence—something he’ll never understand, but something he takes very seriously.

Jesus, he has to help them—

The laughter eventually tapers off and dies out, and the sinking ship sounds resume. Tony and Peter back up from the ledge, holding onto each other, and Peter pats Tony’s shoulder to get his attention. Tony is distracted by the new cuts, and the blood in the kid’s hair, and he hates himself for getting Peter into situations like this. If he didn’t know him, he wouldn’t be here right now, he wouldn’t have to deal with this.

But a world in which he doesn’t know him…well, Tony doesn’t want that either.

Peter points up. He raises his arm, and keeps pointing, as if to indicate all the way up.

Tony mouths roof and Peter nods at him. He obviously has an idea, they were starting to discuss it before the bullshit, and he knows the suits they have here are way below them, and most likely out of the picture now. Probably wouldn’t have activated, anyway. No voices, no tech. Tony nods at him again, trying to imagine what he might be thinking, and they start to head up there.

And Tony thinks about that voice. That laugh. The things he said.

Peter worries.

He worries that his plan is stupid, and it’s barely even a plan, it’s barely even an idea, and it might not even pan out if the purplegreen cloud is covering the whole building. They’re too far away from where their suits are now, and they could try to go down there but the suits probably wouldn’t work anyways. Tony’s is entirely tech, and Peter’s is voice activated. Everything is voice activated.

They grab a couple things from the living quarters when they get there—Peter asks for a Friday com, for his haphazard plan, and he nearly jumps for joy when they find a pair of webshooters in his bedroom that he’d forgotten were there. He practices, and they work, because they’re tech but they aren’t tech tech. But they don’t have a lot of webs loaded in, and he can’t find more and isn’t in the right place to make them, so he has to be careful. But the webshooters will make it a lot easier than trying to climb up the antenna and jump over the cloud without anything to help him.

And they get some more paper and pens.

I think this guy is this jerk I fired a couple years back Tony writes, after they get some water and grapes from the fridge. He was insane then and he’s clearly insane now. But more insane. End of the world stealing voices and trying to murder people insane. Earlier he showed me a projection of your dead body and he could do shit like that back then, the tornado, the voice throwing…I’m not even sure if the main stairwell is actually destroyed, he could be faking that with projection too. Everything but the magical aspects feel like him. But we’ve got a lot of magical assholes on our tails and he could be hooking up with them to get at me.

Peter reads it, drinking his water, and he nods, sighing once he’s drained the bottle. He leans over and writes underneath it, his letters small and close together so he has lots of space.

MY PLAN IS TO GO UP TO THE ROOF AND HOPEFULLY THE CLOUD DOESN’T COMPLETELY COVER THE BUILDING AND I CAN LAUNCH MYSELF OUTSIDE IT AND THEN SPEAK AGAIN AND CONNECT TO FRIDAY WITH THE COM AND RESET THE BUILDING AND SET OFF SAFEGUARDS TO START FIGHTING BACK. AND IF THE CLOUD COVERS THE BUILDING THEN I HAVE NO PLAN BUT I HAVE A FEELING IT DOESN’T BECAUSE HE CLEARLY THINKS HE’S GOTTEN RID OF EVERYTHING THAT COULD GET US UP THAT HIGH YOU KNOW?

He’s a little worried, watching Tony read, and worry feels where he lives right now. And Tony does straighten up when he’s done, giving Peter a look. There’s layers behind it—fear, uncertainty, worry, wanting to help, but he nods anyway, even though he looks like he doesn’t want to.

Peter smiles, softly, trying to be reassuring, but probably coming off as childish and stupid, and he sighs and leans over and writes again.

HE USED MY DEAD BODY TO UPSET YOU?

Tony reads, and makes a face at him, widening his eyes and grimacing. He nods, holding that expression. Peter mimes saying awww, and Tony scoffs, gently pushing his face away from him. Peter laughs, and draws a heart on the paper, and Tony snatches the pen and crosses the heart out with an X. But Peter is grinning anyway.

It feels good, not to…feel bad. If only for a moment.

And they head back up after that, with pens and paper and water bottles, Peter’s webshooters on his wrists. They have to keep changing stairwells, because of obstacles and shit this guy’s put in their way, and a few of them are solid and real, and a few of them are illusions, projected to confuse and reroute them. Peter decides to web up the elevator shaft for a while, holding a very irritated Tony along with him.

They climb out at floor 90, Peter peeling the doors open. He helps Tony to his feet, and the doors slam closed behind them once they’re all the way out.

Tony blows out a breath, and he claps Peter on the shoulder and bends his head down a bit to look at him. That look is asking if he’s alright, and Peter nods, and Tony nods back at him, already knowing he wants to ask too.

Peter gestures backwards, angrily, at everything, and he puts his hands together as if he’s choking someone and shaking them back and forth.

Tony points at his own chest, raising his eyebrows.

Peter brushes him off, mouths no, and he points behind them, meaning THAT GUY, and he gestures all over and throws punches and pretends to knee someone in the stomach and pretends like he’s choking and he rolls his eyes back.

Tony stares at him for a second, and then he grins, shaking his head. He throws up his middle finger, shakes his fist in the air, and they keep silently threatening as they walk.

They head for the stairs and Peter worries. He worries about Ned, about his half-baked plan, about his non-existent back-up plan, about May and MJ hearing about this and seeing what’s going on, and he’s worrying as they step into the stairwell to climb the final three flights for roof access.

He’s worrying when he gets shot in the shoulder.

And Tony drags Peter to his feet and they’re running, they’re running up the stairs, and he doesn’t feel like he’s moved this much outside of the suit since the fucking Mandarin situation—and the sound of whatever invisible force it is following them and shooting at them is undeniably a fucking drone. Probably two, from the buzzing.

Very clearly a Beck production—

And Tony holds onto Peter, and they keep running, and they zig-zag as much as they can in the narrow stairwell, and Tony hears ricochets and blasts inches from his head and he gets one in the back of the leg that takes him down—

And Peter pulls him up again, and Tony sees him turn around and fire a bunch of webs, and one of the drones, still invisible, slams against the wall, trapped.

They keep running, and there’s one left, and they can’t fucking see it, and they keep running and Tony is fucking hopping, and before he knows it Peter is hauling him behind a pillar.

And the shooting stops.

And Tony can still hear the drone, can hear it buzzing and ticking and searching for them, and Peter has his eyes closed.

And before Tony knows it, Peter is leaping out from behind the pillar, and Tony sees him grasp his hands together and slam down into open air. But it isn’t open air, and the drone becomes visible and crashes down to the ground, spitting out sparks.

Tony breathes hard through his mouth, and Peter stumbles back towards him, and grabs his arm again. Tony nods at him, trying to convey a good job, and Peter blows out a breath and shakes his head.

And they stagger up one more set of stairs and bust out onto the roof.

And—

The kid was right.

They can see it right away.

The purplegreen cloud is surrounding the building, and it goes up to just under the antenna. And that’s where it stops. Clear blue sky.

An opening.

It looks easy. He’s seen Peter do harder things. But Tony stands there, frozen, staring up at where the cloud ends while Peter drags over one of the random cement blocks up here and braces it against the door.

Tony tries to say his name, but he can’t. He still can’t, despite how close they are to the edge of the thing.

And Peter puts the com in his ear, ready to connect to Friday when he can.

And why the hell didn’t they take their phones with them maybe Tony could have hacked into them if he put his mind to it and why wasn’t he thinking properly and forming his own plans and why didn’t he just go back down and get a suit and make it like he made it in Afghanistan they could have withstood more of Beck’s bullshit if he just put his goddamn mind to it and—

Peter blows out a breath, and takes a step forward, shaking his arms like he’s trying to get loose. Then he aims one webshooter—

Tony grabs Peter’s arm, his heart in his throat. He feels insane, was the kid about to just go, just do it—

Peter turns around and looks at him. And they can’t say anything, even though there’s a million things to say, and Tony can never stand letting him go if he can’t go with him, because what if it goes wrong, what if he doesn’t come back—

And they’ve been trying to convey a million things without words since this started, and he just looks at Peter and tries to say it all with his face—I restarted the world because I couldn’t live in it without you so you better come back—and he cocks his head a little bit and really looks at him and his eyes hurt—

And Peter rushes into a hug, a big one, and Tony clings to him and cradles the back of his head and hates this whole goddamn thing. Then Peter pulls back, nodding at him, tears shining in his eyes—

And he steps forward, away from him, and shoots a web before Tony can say anything else—

“Well, look at him go,” a voice says.

That voice.

Tony spins around, and the man he knew was behind this is standing there. Right fucking behind him, Quentin Beck, in some goddamn jumpsuit, grinning from ear to ear.

He punches Tony square in the face, a move that Tony would have parried or dodged if he hadn’t been so fucking shocked to see the guy standing there when nobody was there a moment before, and Beck hits him again off the shock of the first hit—

And the pain bursts—

“God, you were always slow, Tony,” Beck says, and Tony is able to dodge the next one he throws, which makes the asshole laugh. “Oh, there he is! There he is! A little fight left in him—”

And Peter swings, latching onto the antenna and launching himself over the tippy top of the cloud, and the heel of his foot bumps it and that buoys him further up into the air, and he shoots another web and swings around outside of the spell, away from the building—

And he can feel his voice in his throat, building up, ready to be used again—

“FRIDAY!” he screams, shrill and childlike, but he doesn’t care. “FRIDAY, RESET YOURSELF IN THE TOWER ON ALL LEVELS! REBOOT THE TOWER. CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

And he swings around, in a curved arc, and he can see—

There’s a man, a man there with Tony on the roof, and they’re fighting, hand to hand—

And suddenly there’s so many of him, everywhere, the same man, all over the roof, and they’re all attacking Tony, and Tony falls to the ground—

And Peter can’t—Friday hasn’t yet—he can’t breathe he can’t think it feels like time is slowing to a halt—

“Resetting,” Friday says, in Peter’s ear, “and responding to an attack, Peter, do you need assistance?”

“Tony needs assistance on the roof!” Peter screams, and he shoots three more webs and swings around, and the cloud is still up but the tower comes to life inside of it, an energy blasting up and creating ripples, but the cloud doesn’t go away yet, not completely—

And all the multiples of the man disappear until there’s just one—

—and Peter sees him stab Tony in the stomach.

“No!” Peter screams, his heart in his throat, and he starts swinging back that way, dipping and weaving in the air, and he can hardly see through his tears. “Tony, Tony! No!”

And he reaches out to shoot another web, but nothing comes out—

He’s out—

No more webs—

“Shit!” Peter yells, plummeting, and he swings his arms and tries to get closer to the building so he can stick and the cloud is still rippling and breaking in pieces and if he hits it just right he won’t be bounced back—

Tony Tony Tony—

And before he knows it something is crashing into him, and closing him up inside it—

An Iron Man suit—

And it comes to life quickly, the heads up display bright and shining, connecting to two other suits currently on the grid—and he’s not falling anymore—

“Tony?” Peter yells. He tries to get acclimated, quickly changing his trajectory and heading back up to the roof. He’s only been in an Iron Man suit like, twice, and the first time was an accident. “Tony? Tony? Friday is he—Friday, where’s—”

And just as Peter takes off, the purplegreen cloud explodes, and it knocks Peter backwards, catapulting him back onto the roof of a building a couple blocks over. He hits the wall so hard—

And Peter dreams of clouds.

Dreams? Dreams? Is he dreaming?

Purplegreen—black—stars—voices—

“Peter?”

Beeping. Wind.

“Peter. I am flying you back to the tower.”

His eyes are shut. Flying?

“Peter. The spell has been broken. Doctor Stephen Strange was locked in the lowest level of the tower by the perpetrator, former Stark Employee Quentin Beck. As soon as you reactivated me countermeasures were taken, and Doctor Strange was able to find—”

“He took—down the spell?” Peter asks. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet. He’s flying. He doesn’t wanna see, his brain isn’t working.

“Yes, and—”

“No specifics,” Peter says, and he finally opens his eyes. He’s heading for the roof—the roof, the roof— “Brain hurts—Friday, Tony, is Tony—is Tony—”

“Mr. Stark is alright, save for a concussion and a blast wound on his leg,” Friday says, and Peter doesn’t understand, he saw—he saw that guy stab him—

And he’s heading for a landing, and he sees—Tony, and Rhodey, and Happy, and Ned is there too, and they’ve got this guy on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back. Rhodey is suited up, and Tony’s nanosuit trickles away, forming a watch on his wrist.

Peter lands, and the suit opens to let him out, and he tumbles like Han Solo out of carbonite in Return of the Jedi.

Tony catches him. “Whoa whoa whoa,” he says, trying to gather him up. “There he is, took long enough—buddy, bud, hey, you okay?”

His voice his voice—

“He stabbed you,” Peter breathes, trying to get his feet solidly under him. “He stabbed, I saw—I saw it—”

“See, he fell for it,” Beck says, laughing from his spot on the ground. “I knew he would. I knew it, didn’t I say? Tony!”

“We need to gag him,” Tony says, pointing over in his direction. “He took my voice, I’ll take his, it’s only fair—Pete, I’m fine, hey—” Tony helps him stand up straighter, and geeze, he must have hit the wall really hard, even in the suit—he feels like jelly. “It was another one of his shitty tricks—when you turned Friday back on she started launching our countermeasures, we’ve got plans for magic too, she’s just gotta be on—Beck kidnapped Strange, took this shit out of one of his spell books or whatever the hell—well, Strange just—Friday helped Strange get out of the building without getting bounced back and he just—said his little spiel—”

“Okay,” Peter breathes, nodding. “I get it. I get it.” He holds onto Tony’s arm with one hand, and points over at Beck with the other. “You’re a dickhead.”

“You’re a dickhead,” Beck says, “and now I know who you are, Spidey Widey. Know your whole little identity and everything, what are you gonna do about that?”

“Rhodey, Hap, get him the hell out of here,” Tony says, waving them away.

“Yeah!” Ned says, as the two of them haul Beck to his feet and start him towards the roof door. “Yeah, what are you—I mean, you’re getting out of here, idiot, you’re—you don’t even know what’s coming—”

And Peter watches as Ned actually follows them out, letting the door close behind them, still in the middle of his tirade.

“I’m fine Ned!” Peter yells. “Thanks for asking!”

“He’s just trying to play coy,” Tony says. “He’s been worried as hell—took you about ten minutes to get back, he was asking where you were every minute or so—”

Peter nods. “Yeah—but what are we gonna do about Beck, you know, uh—knowing—knowing me?” he asks, looking at Tony, already worrying about May and MJ—and Ned, who Beck clearly knows personally…

“It’s fine,” Tony says, shaking his head. “He’s done. He’s a terrorist now, like, by definition—he’s lucky nobody died, but attempted murder is on there, and there were absolutely…multiple attempts—”

Peter nods again, trying to focus. He remembers the stabbing clear as anything, and he’s never felt so far away and so close at the same time. Too far to help, swinging through the air like a moron, but close enough to see the look on Tony’s face.

It was too real.

Peter sighs, and feels dizzy again remembering it, and he straightens up and pulls Tony into a hug. Tony sounds surprised, laughing a little bit, and then he starts rubbing Peter’s back.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, closing his eyes.

“I’m okay, buddy, he didn’t stab me. All good, stab-less. What about you, huh? You okay? Savior of the tower, the one voice that rose up when the others were silenced—”

Peter snorts, squeezing him for a long moment before he pulls back. “I’m okay,” he says, tentatively.

“We gotta get Helen to look at you—she’s coming, she’s on her way. May too, and MJ, they were at the coffee shop across the street—they noticed the cloud before the news did. And they knew something was wrong when they didn’t get their morning Peter texts.”

Peter shakes his head, glancing back, just to…make sure the cloud is still gone.

And it is. Clear skies.

He looks at Tony. “Maybe we’re a little bit too reliant on technology.”

Tony wraps his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “You think? I don’t know, I don’t think it’s…unhealthy—”

“Our entire world was just completely upended because everything needs voice commands,” Peter says, as they gingerly, half-limp to the roof access door.

“Listen, Strange’s ancient text also needed a voice command to break the spell,” Tony says, holding the door open and following Peter inside. “What’s that mean, huh? That’s caveman shit, and yet—”

“Well, he should—keep his spell books, uh—more protected, I guess—”

“That too,” Tony says. “Though I guess the kidnapping and being left in the basement is his punishment. Come on, Pete, we gotta go—get taken care of, gotta talk to the goddamn reporters, call Pep, start the cleanup, take inventory, make sure everyone’s alright—you’re alright, right? You’re alright?”

“I’m alright,” Peter says, the last couple hours’ events feeling very strange and fake, even though they were very very real. He needs to decompress badly. But how do you decompress from someone stealing your voice and locking you in a tower with a magical spell and trying to kill you?

Just another day for Spider-Man and Iron Man, Peter guesses.

That’s a sentence that would have blown his eight year old self’s mind.

“Careful on the stairs here,” Tony says, trying to help guide him down, “feel like both of us probably have stair trauma for the rest of our lives—”

“Oh, I’m either swinging or using the elevator in the tower for at least a couple weeks,” Peter says, smiling back at him.

Tony snorts. “Noted. Okay, tell me a story, tell me your thought process throughout this whole ordeal, tell me your…next steps, ideas…just wanna hear you talk, buddy, that was way too long of a Peter Parker silence.”

And Peter’s face goes red, because that feels like one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to him, really, especially since his bad guys tell him so often how annoying his voice is.

Well, Tony Stark doesn’t think so, how about that?

And his main thought, when he realized what was going on, was that he had to find Tony, because they could figure it out together. Tony can do anything, no matter what, and he makes Peter feel like…he can do anything too.

“Okay, well,” Peter says, clearing his throat as they keep heading for the 90th floor, where the elevator is. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start at the beginning,” Tony says. “When you woke up in the lab like a young Tony Stark might have…or an old one, couple days ago, either or—”

Peter smiles to himself. It is so nice to be able to talk again. He doesn’t think he’s ever gonna stop talking. It’s just nice that Tony actually wants to hear it.

So he keeps talking. “Okay, well, right away I wake up to Ned hitting me. And he’s immediately concerned about aliens…”

#irondad #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark #iron man #spider-man #works by iron_spider #irondad fic #iron dad fic #marvel fic #based on the buffy episode Hush

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