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“Peter,” Tony says, watching as Friday tracks the kid’s trajectory, following his arc as he flips through the air. “Peter Parker.”
“Uh oh, full name time, what’d I do?”
Tony watches him do another outrageous flip, spinning at least three times in the air. The web he lets go of soars like a party streamer. He shoots another one, swings from it, and quickly shoots one more, launching himself high.
“What the hell is with all the acrobatics?” Tony asks, flying up higher. Peter shoots more webs, completely unnecessarily, and they firework all around them. “I know you’re a part of the circus, but you’re at your day job right now, bud—”
“Part of the circus?” Peter laughs. “I’m just happy, okay, aren’t you happy?”
Tony snorts, watching as Friday lays out their path back to the compound. He’d considered bringing a jet, but he knows Peter likes the long swing and fly back.
“Of course I’m happy,” Tony says, as Peter does another couple flips, more webs flying all over the place. “Always a good feeling to save a bunch of kids.”
“They were so excited to see us!” Peter exclaims. He spins sideways in some kind of double helix, rolling out into another long swing. “And that puppy? I mean—the situation could have been real bad, but it was real good! Because we were there! And now everybody’s safe!”
Tony shakes his head—Peter has no business being this endearing. They’re flying through town now, a little low for Tony’s tastes, but the buildings aren’t as high over here and Peter’s gotta have something to latch onto. He’s certainly giving people a good show, and everyone on the ground that Tony can see has their phones out to film his antics. “Listen, I get the spider celebration, but don’t your webs take a lot to make? Don’t you slave over that shit? Let’s settle down, Crockett, or you’re not gonna make it home.”
“Ugh, fine, always spoiling my fun,” Peter says. “Lemme just—”
He lets out what could only be called an explosion of webs then—some of the web bombs, the super bursts, the works for big battles, and Tony rolls his eyes at the wastefulness, but he can’t help but smile.
It feels like something inside of him knew what was coming next, and he watches as the kid flips and spins and drops directly into the powerlines, landing stagnant amongst his mass of webs. Tony’s heart sinks a little—Peter’s limbs are all tangled, his arm sticking out up by his head, and Tony’s just about to break into full blown panic when he hears Peter laugh in his ear.
“Wow, wow, okay,” Peter says. “That was—that was unexpected.”
Tony hovers there, glancing down to see everybody watching. “Uh, really? Really really? Because even if I didn’t see it coming, I saw it coming. Because you attract these things, buddy boy, with all your crazy flipping and excess webs.”
“I’m a little stuck, just a little stuck.”
“Uh, you think?”
Peter laughs again, too delighted for someone in his situation. “Well, aren’t you gonna help me?” he asks, twisting around a little bit, slipping his left arm out of the hole it’s trapped in and through another part of the webs.
It reminds Tony of jumbled up string or headphone wires, and it drives him a little insane looking at it. “Nah, I’m gonna see how you handle this one for a few minutes here,” Tony says. He clears his throat, going off com so Peter can’t hear him. “Uh, Fri, give me a good way out of those webs for Pete, please.”
“Right away, Boss.”
“And, uh, he’s not gonna electrocute himself, right? We built in shit to keep that from happening, right?”
“We did. And he should be safe, unless the line gets severed.”
Tony nods to himself. Peter’s almost like one of those damn pigeons. Tony moves to hover a little closer, and he can’t help but laugh as Peter methodically moves in and out of the webs like a goddamn spider, ducking and tugging his legs in and out. Tony wonders if he could just break it all if he pulled and pushed hard enough, but clearly, that’s not an attempt he’s gonna make.
Tony goes back on coms. “Good lord, kid,” he says, laughing harder. “What a mess. You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, well, I—”
Peter moves the wrong way and falls. But he doesn’t drop all the way to the ground, and when Tony looks closer, to his horror—the kid is hanging by his fucking neck. He’s kicking and struggling and grasping at the offending web, and there’s a gasp from the crowd below.
Tony swoops over, his heart in his throat. He grabs Peter around the waist with one arm, holding him up so the web around his neck isn’t strangling him. But it’s tight as hell when Tony grabs at it with his free hand—Peter’s webs are some of the strongest material Tony’s ever come in contact with, and he can’t just snap it off, despite the fact that he’s wearing the suit.
“Kid, can you breathe?” Tony asks, right up close to him now, and he flips up the faceplate so Peter can see him, even though he’s still wearing his own mask. “Tell me.”
“Oh—like, barely,” Peter gasps, voice ragged.
“Okay, okay,” Tony says, holding onto him tight and hoisting him up a little higher. “Okay, uh—” He’s stuck between cutting it off and burning it off, knowing both aren’t the best case scenario and both will absolutely hurt Peter. But it’s less likely that he can actually cut through the webbing with anything he’s got right now—damn Peter for being so damn smart and so dumb at the same time. Create an incredibly strong material. Strangle yourself with it.
“I have to burn through it bud,” Tony says. “Gimme a sec. Just one sec.” He aims his pointer finger at the webbing around the kid’s neck, listening to him wheeze, and Friday quickly selects the right tool and power level. Tony starts before he gets any sort of permission because Peter is still actively being strangled, and Tony feels him jolt a little bit when the laser hits his suit.
“Tony—” Peter gasps, clearly in pain, voice already breaking.
“I’m sorry, kid, I’m sorry,” Tony says, wincing himself, barely able to look at the brightness of the laser. He should put his faceplate back down, but he wants to offer Peter some kind of familiar comfort. He hopes he doesn’t look too horrified. He can’t control his face. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna fix it, I’m gonna fix it, just a second—”
The first layer of webbing snaps, and Tony can see Peter’s suit going black.
“Just a little bit more—” Tony says, and Peter tries to take a big breath, the web still cutting off his air supply. Then the second layer snaps, just as the laser comes in contact with Peter’s skin. Peter gasps, and Tony bats the webbing off of him. He puts his faceplate back down, and then he takes off without another word, still holding Peter.
“Oh my God,” Peter rasps, coughing, as Friday boosts thrusters by fifty percent. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah, oh my God,” Tony says, as his own heart rate flashes on the screen. “You’re such a moron sometimes, Pete. It’s too much for my damn—you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”
Peter sticks to him, holding on tight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Tony sighs, instantly feeling bad for the moron comment. “Don’t be,” he says. “Shit, just—you need—you’ve gotta—”
“I know,” Peter says, and he reaches up with one hand, patting the burn on his neck. “I know, I know, ugh, I know.”
~
“The video went viral,” Happy says, standing behind the two of them as Tony deals with the burn on Peter’s neck. There are horrible red rings around his throat, which Tony hopes heal up real quick, because they make him feel dizzy and sick. Happy keeps talking. “It’s already got 6.7 million views on Twitter, uh, user shootingwebs says WHOA SPIDER-MAN BE CAREFUL DON’T HANG YOURSELF WE NEED YOU—”
“Very nice dramatic reading,” Tony deadpans. “You should be on the stage.”
“I’m just telling you the news,” Happy says, with a sigh.
“No one genuinely thinks I did that on purpose,” Peter says. His voice sounds like he screamed til he lost it, and Tony wishes he just wouldn’t talk until he doesn’t sound like that anymore. “Right? I mean—”
“No,” Tony says, opening up the bandage and pressing it carefully over the new wound. Thankfully, it’s small, and it’ll be gone soon. “No one genuinely thinks you did it on purpose. Everybody saw you flipping around like a flying Bruce Lee with your stupid web streamers.”
Peter snorts, and reminds Tony of his own laughter before the kid made the whole thing Not At All Funny.
“Uh, a mom of one of the kids from that weird collapsing building thing you were at—right before this,” Happy says, glancing back and forth between the both of them. “She, uh, tweeted out her thoughts, hoping...Spider-Man is okay.”
Tony rolls his eyes, heaving a sigh.
“That’s nice,” Peter says, squeaky voice still intact. “That’s really nice of her.”
“We’re gonna have to make a legitimate statement,” Tony says, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll have to think up the right thing to say…” Even though the whole thing was literally like a Three Stooges skit, Tony feels shaken down to his core. Watching Peter nearly hang himself, having to hurt him to fucking help him—he wasn’t exaggerating, about the heart attack. Peter is gonna give him a heart attack.
He slaps his hands down on his knees, and looks at Peter hard. “Your webs are too strong. Never thought I’d be saying that. I could barely burn through that shit without literally cutting through you.”
“Good!” Peter says, brows furrowed. “Listen, this isn’t—an everyday situation—”
“Uh huh, uh huh,” Tony says, nodding drastically. “Never again. No more web streamer celebrations. No matter what we did previously. I love when you’re happy, I always want you to be happy, but clearly, too much happiness means you’re gonna get tangled up in your own webbing and the power lines and almost goddamn hang yourself.”
Peter pouts, looking away, and Tony sighs again.
“Don’t worry,” Happy says, looking at the kid. “Before the whole Iron Man gig, Tony once fell off the side of a building while he was at a rooftop party and firefighters had to come and get him.”
Tony rolls his eyes.
“He wasn’t even drunk,” Happy says, grinning.
A wide smile splits across Peter’s face, and okay, fine, that’s worth Happy sharing that incredibly embarrassing story.
“This’ll blow over,” Happy says. “We just gotta get Clint out there and make him do something stupid and we’ll be golden.”
“You work on that,” Tony says, pointing back at him. Then he points at Peter. “You—promise I never have to see you with a noose around your neck again, whether it’s made of your own webbing or not.”
Peter presents his hand, and sticks his pinky out towards Tony. “Pinky swear,” he rasps. “The most powerful kind of promise.”
Tony scoffs, overwhelmed, for a second, with fondness. Then he locks their pinkys together, and they both squeeze. “Good,” he says, when they let go. He hops down off the counter. “Now I’m gonna go call May and explain Spider-Man’s latest viral incident.”
“Have fun!” Peter says, voice breaking.
“Uh huh,” Tony says, walking away from him, trying to suppress his smile.
Jesus, this kid.