“You saved me once when I was a kid, you know.”
There’s smoke and fire and the sky is burning and Tony shakes his head, shushing him desperately. He has to save energy. Has to conserve…so they can get away. Get out. They have to…
“Stark expo, 2010,” it comes out choked, a wheezing cough from a throat that’s been abused and hurt, but when Peter laughs, he still sounds happy, “one of the coolest… coolest moments of my life.”
“Peter, come on, you need to- to get up, come on, I’m gonna get you home, alright, let’s-”
“I’m sorry Tony,” he says, and he’s shaking his head on the ground, blood dripping from his temple, and Tony looks down at him with something close to disbelief, because there is no way in hell that this is actually happening. Not Peter. Never… never Peter, surely? He didn’t even belong here. He should have been in school, getting evacuated with all the other kids; should have run far far away rather than throwing himself into a war that was never his to fight- “I’m sorry, I failed, I tried to get the stone but I couldn’t-”
“You didn’t fail, Peter, stop it,” Tony hisses, his own filthy hand scrabbling for Peter’s in the dirt and debris, “you didn’t… stop it, just stay awake and wait for backup, we’re gonna take you home-”
“Think we’re a little too far away from home to do anything… useful, now,” Peter cracks a tired smile and his face is grey, there’s blood everywhere-
He realises, absently, that his face is wet.
“Peter, please-” Tony’s pressing the hand close to his own, trying to push some of his own life through the connection, because God only fucking knows someone else is more worthy of it than him- Peter Parker is more worthy than a thousand of him, and he’d do it, he’d fucking do it if Peter could just- “stay awake, kid. For me. Don’t…”
Peter smiles again. “I watched you save the world in 2012,” he murmurs, and Tony is realising quite how small he is, lying on the ground like that- his hand is entirely covered by Tony’s, “you can do it again. You’re Iron Man. Tony Stark. My… my favourite hero. I believe in you.”
“No, no, no, Peter, Peter stop-”
“Give ‘em hell for me, Mr Stark,” Peter breathes, breathes and breathes and then
his eyes shutting peacefully,
body going limp in Tony’s arms,
and all he can do is keep holding the warm hand and stare, because… because it can’t be happening.
Tony’s presses Peter’s hand to his face and shuts his eyes. Tries to hold on to what little sanity he has left. The air hurts his face. The hand pressed between his still isn’t moving. He can’t look down, he can’t see…- he just can’t look down.
Peter Parker cannot be dead. Tony did everything- everything he could to make sure that never happened. It’s not possible. He can’t have failed. Not when it mattered so much. Not another person he considered family, dead because of him.
There’s a rumble behind them. Tony doesn’t want to face it. He just wants to hold Peter’s body until he wakes up again, laughs and does that stupid smile and says ‘I got you that time, right Mr Stark?’, and Tony wouldn’t even be pissed, God, not if it meant he could see Peter breathing again, fuck, no, he-
Another crash. It’s getting closer.
Someone has to pay for this.
He takes another moment. Swallows down the tears, the consuming grief. Guilt. Loss.
He turns around and stares everything he’s ever dreaded in the face.
Bring it on, is all he can think, completely and utterly numb.
dededos
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