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Peter’s whole head throbs. He tastes blood. Something is constricting his chest, and each breath aches.
His eyes flutter open. Everything spins. Peter blinks a few times until the world fades into focus.
A seatbelt. That’s what’s against his chest. He’s in a car, yet he smells dirt and leaves. He opens his eyes and sees bony branches. Peter may not know much about cars, but he knows that’s definitely not supposed to be there.
It starts to come back to him in bits and pieces.
He finally had a small break in his classwork with a long weekend, and he was going to visit Tony, Pepper, and Morgan at the lake house. Happy wasn’t able to drive him at the last minute, and neither Tony nor Pepper was able to make the trip back at such short notice. And if he waited until the next afternoon, it would hardly be worth the trip for a single day.
Peter had already resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see his mentor when Tony came up with the idea.
“You can just borrow one of my cars and drive up yourself,” Mr. Stark had said. “I have a few sitting around SI. Choose your favorite.”
“Really? Oh, no, Mr. Stark, I–I couldn’t,” he had said.
“It’s no big deal. You’ve had your license for a while now, and you already borrowed one of my cars for your test.”
That was true, but it was totally different. That time, he was still in the car with another adult. This would just be him behind the wheel of one of Tony Stark's fancy, expensive cars.
But he also hadn't visited with Tony and the rest of the Starks in so long, and he missed them like crazy. It wasn't too long of a drive, and most of it wasn't even in the city traffic. It would be okay.
“If you’re sure…”
Mr. Stark clapped his shoulder. “Then it’s settled. Get it back in one piece, kid. No drinking and driving, wear your seatbelt, yada yada.”
“Yeah, of course, Mr. Stark. I’ll be careful! Promise.”
After dinner with Aunt May, he swung over to SI to pick up the car. Sure enough, there was a whole garage full for him to choose from. It looked like a sports car dealership with all the high-end vehicles there.
And yes, Peter may have geeked out a teensy bit when he got behind the wheel of the extravagant car for the first time by himself. He might not be a car connoisseur like Tony, but he recognizes a cool car when he sees one. Flash would combust if he knew Peter was driving this. It’s like one of those spy cars in the movies with all the high-tech knobs and buttons. He definitely took some selfies and sent them to Ned.
The drive was a couple hours, and he spent it listening to his playlist. It started raining.
But then what happened? His memory gets fuzzy. He was almost there, on a secluded road surrounded by forest. And then...
A deer! There was a deer, standing frozen and wide-eyed in the middle of the road. Peter swerved to avoid him. He couldn’t regain control as the car slid against the rain-slick roads. A flash of panic, his stomach leaping into his throat. An impact. Then nothing.
He crashed the car. Worse, he crashed Mr. Stark’s car.
Maybe it’s okay. Maybe it’s salvageable. The car is tipped sideways, the driver’s side lower on the small hill than the passenger’s side. Peter stretches up to get a better view. The seatbelt painfully stops too much movement, but Peter sees enough. His breath hitches as he glimpses at the full extent of the damage.
Any hopes he had that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed vanish. It looks like the front half of the car went through a panini press. The car is crunched against a tree, the whole front a warped mess of steel. The deflated airbag sags from the wheel, a line of blood trailing down the fabric. Shattered glass from the broken windows covers his lap.
Mr. Stark is gonna be furious. He let Peter borrow his car, and Peter immediately wrecked it. He thinks about the other week when Mr. Stark chastised him for putting his feet up on the leather seats of his BMW. If he got annoyed at Peter for that, how will he react to one of his cars being wrapped around a tree?
There’s no way Mr. Stark will trust him again after this.
Something small and flat digs into his side. He grabs it. His phone. Spiderweb cracks cover the screen, but it turns on easily. Thank god for Stark phones. There are some notifications from Ned and social media, but the most recent is from Tony. Peter had texted to let him know that he got the car and was heading over; he didn’t realize until now that Tony texted him back.
Mr. Stark: See you soon, kiddo
Tears blur his vision. They sting the fresh cut on his face as they fall, and he hastily scrubs at his cheeks. His nose burns, and he struggles to breathe out of it.
Suddenly, the tightness of the seatbelt on his chest and the wreckage of the car encasing him becomes too much. All he can focus on is the urgency to get out, please need to get out—
Peter shoves the phone into the pocket of his sweatshirt. His hands tremble as he tries to unclip his seatbelt. It finally releases with a snap, and Peter sobs in relief. He falls against the door, clambering for the handle and using his super strength to shove his way out of the car. He falls face-first to the cold, wet ground, barely managing to catch himself with shaking arms before faceplanting. A sharp pain radiates through his wrist. Broken, no doubt.
Stumbling to his feet, Peter limps away from the car with gasping breaths. Rain continues falling, and he shivers, covered in a mixture of mud and blood.
Somehow, Peter has to make himself call Mr. Stark. To tell him that he crashed the car. That it’s all his fault.
He lets himself calm down for a few minutes as he works up the nerve. He hides out under a nearby tree for shelter, shivering from stress or cold or pain, he doesn’t know.
There’s no way out of this, and the longer he puts it off, the worse it might become. Holding his broken wrist against himself, he clicks on Mr. Stark’s contact with his free hand and presses call, then puts it on speaker. God, what is he even going to say? How can he say it? Hey, Mr. Stark, you know your custom Audi that you love so much? Yeah, that one. It’s totaled.
“—ello? Peter?”
Peter blinks down at the phone, not even realizing Tony picked up.
“Um, hi.” What is he gonna say, what is he gonna say?
“Hi…? I thought you’d be here by now. Take a little snack break or something?” When Peter doesn’t immediately reply, Tony continues, “You better not be driving right now. I know the car has Bluetooth and all that stuff that distracts you teens, but you gotta keep your attention on the road.”
Peter chokes on a laugh, covering his mouth when it comes out as a sob.
There’s rustling on the other end of the phone. Tony sounds much closer to the speaker when he talks again, “Kid? Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, bud.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, eyes squeezing shut as more tears stream out with his words. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Woah, it’s okay. Calm down, Pete. Tell me what happened.”
“Y-Your car. I…It’s completely wrecked, Mr. Stark. I’m…” Peter swallows. “I didn’t—”
“Wait, you got in a wreck?” his voice raises. Oh no, he’s angry. Of course he’s angry, why wouldn’t he be angry? Peter screwed up big time. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No, I’m fine. I just…there was this deer, and I-I swerved to avoid it, but I lost control of the car. It was an accident, I swear!”
Tony curses softly. “Do you know where you are?”
Tony’s voice is firm, words concise. Yeah, he’s definitely upset. He’s probably just waiting until he knows Peter isn’t dying before giving him a stern lecture. Peter wishes he’d get it over with.
Peter shakes his head before remembering Tony can’t see it. “No, I don’t know. I think I was getting close.”
“Okay, that’s okay. I’m getting your location.” Tony pauses, and Peter hears him breathing heavily over the phone. "Do I need to take the suit—”
“No, you really don’t need the suit. I promise. I-I’ll be okay. I mean, you really don’t even need to bother coming,” Peter insists. “I’ve had, like, way worse.”
“Don’t be stupid, of course I’m coming. Besides, how would you get here if I didn’t?”
Realizing he didn’t think that far ahead, Peter scrambles for an answer. “...Walk?”
“Walk 20 miles? Because according to your phone’s tracker, that’s how far away you still are.”
Okay, maybe he does need a ride. Although 20 miles would certainly be doable. He’s not at his best, sure, but he’s Spider-Man. A few cuts and bruises wouldn’t stop him. Right now that sounds better than the alternative, which is seeing Tony’s reaction to the damage that he caused.
“No, stop considering it. You’re not walking 20 miles. I’m getting in the car and coming to pick you up, okay? I’ll be there in less than 15 minutes. Just hang tight.”
Tony’s gotten to know him and his ideas too well, apparently.
He’s anxious and tired and in pain, and he doesn’t have it in him to argue with Tony about this. Tony’s probably already plenty angry with him as it is; there’s no need for Peter to make it worse. “Okay.”
“Good. That’s good. I can stay on the line if you want.”
“No, it’s fine. Focus on driving. We wouldn’t want two accidents,” Peter jokes, but it falls flat. “I-I’ll see you soon.”
He hangs up the phone before he can hear Tony’s response. The breeze picks up. Pellets of rain hit his face.
He backs up against the tree trunk further, sliding onto the muddy ground to take the weight off his ankle. He’s already filthy, so who cares?
The waiting is the worst part. He keeps imagining what Tony will say and how upset he’ll be. He can already picture the disappointment in Tony’s eyes.
He stares at the steaming wreckage and tries not to freak out more than he already is. He must zone out, because the next thing he knows, there’s a pair of headlights flashing up from the secluded backroads. Peter grimaces at the light, shielding his eyes with one hand. The door swings open and Tony rushes out, not even bothering to shut the door behind him.
“Peter,” he exhales, kneeling down in the mud before Peter makes a move to stand. His eyes sweep over Peter. Peter stares down at his lap. “Christ, kid.”
A sick feeling twists in his stomach. His heart races. Tony’s hand runs through his hair, and he winces at a sudden flash of pain, not realizing there was a wound back there in the first place.
Tony pulls his hand away. “Sorry, kiddo. Are there any other injuries I should know about?”
Peter’s injuries are the last thing on his mind right now. He keeps glancing back up at the car behind Tony; each time he does it somehow looks worse than before.
The headlights illuminate the wreck like the spotlights on one of those strange modern art installations at the museum that MJ took him to last month. Jagged, twisted edges around a gnarled tree. Boy versus nature. Peter can’t stop looking. He at least hopes the deer is ok.
And he’s very confused because Tony hasn’t even commented on the state of it. In fact, Peter’s not sure he’s even glanced at it since he showed up.
“Mr. Stark…” Peter whispers. “I–I–” he cuts himself off. He needs to apologize, but the words get caught in his throat. A few words don’t feel like enough to make up for this. But what else could he even say to make this better?
“What is it? What’s going on?” Tony urges. He leans closer. His eyes are wide. “You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”
“I’ll pay for the car!” he blurts out. “Or—I mean, I obviously can’t afford to fix it, but like, I can work it off in the lab, or find some other jobs too if…I mean, I would understand if you don’t want me around in the lab anymore. But I promise I–I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
Tony frowns. His nose wrinkles. “The car…I don’t—” he shakes his head. “Kid, I don’t care about the car. I have a garage full of ‘em. You saw it for yourself.”
“But you’re upset—”
“I’m upset because I’m worried about you! Shit, when I got that call, the last thing on my mind was the car. All I could think about was you bleeding out in a goddamn ditch!”
Peter wraps an arm around Tony’s middle and falls into him. His face drops into the junction of Tony’s neck and shoulder. Tony breathes deeply and reaches around his back to hold him.
In a small voice, Peter asks again because he needs to hear it again, not quite sure he believes it yet. “You-you’re really not mad about the car?”
“I promise. I can replace the car, but I can’t replace you.”
He’s not mad. And now that Peter knows it, all of the panicked energy that carried him this far disappears. He sniffles and slumps further against Tony.
He feels weird. He’s all dizzy and nauseous and tired, and tonight has just been a lot.
When he shivers in Tony’s grip, Tony finally pulls away. “Yeah, we need to get you checked out. We’re going to the hospital.”
He doesn’t want to spend his time with Tony holed up in a hospital bed with doctors trying to keep his identity under wraps because of his super healing. Plus, he’s already caused enough trouble for the Stark family tonight. “We don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m okay, Mr. Stark.”
“You’re not okay. You’re covered in cuts and bruises, you have a head injury, and that wrist looks terrible. And I know you’re more injured than you’re letting on.”
“It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” It’s not a lie—in his panic, it all got pushed back. Everything feels kinda numb now.
“Yeah, buddy, I think you’re in a bit of shock.”
“No, I–I’m fine.”
“You’re trembling, Pete.” He glances down at the fuzzy outline of hands which shake more violently than before.
Tony takes off his suit jacket which probably costs more than a month’s rent of his apartment and drapes it over Peter’s shoulders. Peter can’t even find it in him to protest. It’s warm and smells like Tony’s cologne.
“Come on, up we get.” Tony stands with a groan. “I’m too old to be kneeling on the cold, wet ground.”
He’s opening himself up for Peter to make a quip in return, but he’s too out of it to say anything. Tony offers a hand, helping Peter to his feet. Peter’s whole body shakes now. It takes a lot of effort to stand, and once he does, his legs go boneless and his vision fades out for a split second. He almost falls over, but Tony stumbles to catch his weight.
Tony heaves him back up, drapes one of Peter’s arms over his shoulder, and holds him against his side. “Woah there, don’t go passing out on me.”
“‘M not. Just tired.”
“Yeah, I know. Come one, let’s get you back to the car. You think you can make it?”
He still feels wrong in his body, but with Tony next to him and his feet back under him, he should be ok. “Yeah.”
Tony is patient as he helps Peter wobble toward his car. When they finally make it, Tony maneuvers the door open.
Peter stares for a second. The idea of being back in another one of Tony’s cars makes him anxious. He’d really rather not be in a car again right now, the reminder still too fresh, but he doesn’t have much choice. Swallowing down his discomfort, Peter drops into the front seat. Tony leans it back for Peter and clips his seatbelt in gently. Peter hisses as the strap jars his tender chest, and Tony apologizes quietly.
Tony gets in on the other side and starts the car. He turns on the heaters, and Peter sighs at the warm air against his wet skin. He curls up in the comfiest position possible to take pressure off his injuries.
“We really have to go to the hospital?” Peter mumbles. “Couldn’t you just patch me up?”
“To quote Bruce, I’m not that kind of doctor.”
“It’s really nothing. ‘M fine.”
“Says the kid who almost passed out. We need to make sure you’re okay,” Tony says. “It’s just a precaution.”
“My identity…”
“Don’t sweat it, kid. The local hospital was in dire need of an upgrade, so I bought it and updated all the facilities not long after we moved into the lake house. Your identity will be fine.”
Peter sighs. He wants to argue more, but it feels like his body is in the middle of rebooting itself. His senses are coming back online, and that includes the pain. His whole body hurts. He’s feeling worse, yet also better somehow. Because he knows one thing: even with the residual fear and trauma from tonight, he’s safe now that he’s with Tony.
Peter jumps a little when the car starts, and he doesn’t miss the glance that Tony throws his way.
“'M sorry I ruined the weekend,” Peter says.
“You didn’t ruin anything."
"The car—"
"Nope, you didn't...well, ok, technically, I guess you did ruin the car. But that didn't ruin anything, if you get my gist. All I care about is that you’re safe. And honestly, it's probably for the best. Pepper always tells me my car collection is outrageous. ” A faint smile grows on Peter’s lips. “Ah, there's that smile."
There's a pause. They drive away from the wreckage, and Peter can't help but watch until it's completely out of view.
“M-Mr. Stark?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“That…that was kinda scary,” Peter whispers. “I mean…I could’ve…” He trails off. “And, and I feel so stupid. I–If I hadn’t jerked the wheel and lost control, like, that’s what every driving instructor ever tells you not to do—”
There’s a strong squeeze on his arm. “Hey, deep breaths.” Peter squeezes his eyes shut and tries to concentrate on Tony’s heartbeat. “I know it was a lot, but you’re okay now. It was an accident. You reacted the best you could. Hell, that fucking deer probably walked off without a scratch because of you.”
Peter huffs out a laugh. His fingers curl around the edges of Tony’s jacket that’s still draped across his shoulders. “What do you have against deer, Mr. Stark?”
“They’re pests is what they are. Always shitting all over our yard and eating our flowers.”
“I like them.”
“Of course you do. Says the guy who made friends with the rats in the alley by your apartment.”
“They're misunderstood."
“Sure. Whatever you say." He pauses. Then, softer, he says, "Hey, you know I’m here for you, right? No matter what happens.”
“I know.”
And Peter thinks he finally does.