Work Text:
The wind ruffled Peter's hair, biting at his exposed cuts and wounds as he stared out over the beach from his perch on top of Cyclone. Dark plumes of smoke rose into the equally dark sky and he had to fight down the urge to cough as it tickled at his throat. Instead he let out a stressed sigh, running a hand through his hair, shaking out sand and rubble, all the while mumbling reassurances to himself. He had done it. Saved the plane, saved Toomes, and had, miraculously, not died in the process.
That didn't mean he came away completely unscathed though. He was in pain, in the most pain he had ever been in, his head pounded-throbbing in beat with his heart-as though his brain were trying to escape it. Bruises and cuts littering his body, a large puncture wound on his left shoulder and he wouldn't be surprised if someone told him that he had broken a few ribs. It was making breathing rather painful and it made him want to do nothing more than pass out in his bed for a week. Unfortunately, he doubted he would even be able to get to his bed in the next hour, much less sleep in it for a week.
Screw school, I just saved all of the Avengers' crap. I should be able to sleep in for a month!
But he couldn't leave the beach, not until someone from Stark Industries arrived, preferably Happy. It would be so dumb if he went through all that trouble to keep everything on that plane safe and then someone stole it just because he was tired. Not to mention; What if Toomes broke free? Also a dumb move. So, he continued to sit on the Cyclone and guard the crates of advanced tech that sat scattered in loose piles around the beach. It took the better part of an hour for anyone to arrive.
The sound of sirens filled the air as police cars and fire trucks drew closer. They, as well as other cars stamped with the Stark Industries logo, pulled up to the road that separated Coney Island and the beach. All at once people flooded out of their vehicles and swarmed the beach, all armed with flashlights. Peter watched as they searched and rummaged around, looking for one person in particular. It wasn't until the man looked up though, that he spotted him.
Happy stood near the box of crates that the teenager had webbed the Vulture to, looking at the Cyclone. He was too far away to actually gauge the man's expression, but he could tell that it was Happy, and that he was looking at him. That meant he probably needed to stand up, pretend like he was all good-no injuries here!-and head back home. He didn't doubt that Happy would contact Mr. Stark if he thought that something was wrong with him.
He moved to stand, but paused as another figure came running, dodging past all the cars and heading straight for Happy. The brunet watched as the two conversed, straining his ears to try and understand what they were saying. Unfortunately his ears were still ringing from the plane crash, not to mention the police cars' sirens were still going, so while he could have normally picked apart their conversation, he couldn't hear anything but indistinct murmuring. Still he stayed, wondering who this stranger was, until it hit him all at once.
Duh , it was Captain America. The Rogue Avengers had been pardoned not to long ago and it made sense that at least one Avenger would make an appearance to see what had happened to all their weapons. Peter had thought it more likely to be Iron Man than Captain America, but he guessed Mr. Stark was probably busy and Mr. Rogers lived nearby anyway. Well, at least he knew that all the stuff was completely secure, what with an Avenger nearby and all.
Quickly, he shoved his mask back over his head and swung off of the Cyclone, wincing in pain as the world swirled around him. Maybe not the best choice of transportation with a possible concussion. Peter wasn't heading home though. He still needed his phone, which he had left in Toomes' car, and May would kill him if he lost another one. So, he continued to swing his way back to the warehouse in Brooklyn, wondering how long he could actually go without passing out. Black spots danced in his eyes and pain tore at his chest and shoulder whenever he moved, not to mention he was still bleeding.
He would have to patch that up when he got home, thankfully May was working a late shift. It left him with a small window of time to fix up his injuries when he got back home. If he got there in time that is.
The wind rushed by as he shot another web, dipping low before rising back into the air, away from the bright lights of the late night traffic. He continued on until he was almost at the warehouse when his Spidey Sense flared. Peter barely had a second to even look around for the apparent danger when he was hit full on in the chest and knocked off course. He landed roughly on a nearby apartment complex, tumbling in a mess of limbs, unable to catch himself. The beaten teen looked up shakily to see what had hit him, the lenses on his suit widening comically in surprise when he recognized it, the red and blue glinting brightly.
Steve ran faster when he finally saw the fire, jumping over the hood of a police car in his haste to get there as quickly as possible. He was frantic, confused, because somehow, some way , the StarkJet had crashed. Crashed with just about every weapon the Avengers used, as Tony hadn't redistributed their weapons yet. Nat still had plenty of hers with her though, but he guessed she had never had hers taken in the first place. She hadn't been on the Raft.
He guessed he couldn't fault Tony for not giving them back their weapons right away, the Rogue Avengers, as the media referred to them, had only been pardoned for a couple of weeks, but it was goddamn annoying. So now he was rushing to Coney Island, unarmed, to face what could very well be a superpowered jackass trying to access alien technology, or make the Avengers defenseless without the use of their weapons. However, when he took a sweeping glance over the beach he saw nobody but Stark personnel.
He spotted Happy almost immediately and made a beeline over to the Head of Security. The man was looking up at the Cyclone while standing next to someone who had been webbed to a pile of crates. Wait, webs? There was only one person he knew of that could make those.
"What happened here?" Steve asked when he reached Happy, who had turned to look at him instead of staring at the Cyclone. The man gave him an unimpressed glare, but stress and worry were clearly written on his face.
"Spider-Man, I guess," he responded gruffly, "You don't need to be here, Steve, I've got it handled,"
Steve looked around the beach in response to Happy's words. Handled , not exactly the word he would use to describe the situation. He raised an eyebrow at Happy's words, but quickly moved onto the bigger issue. Spider-Man had taken down the plane, and he definitely wasn't here. Steve hadn't pegged him as someone to try and steal from Stark or the Avengers, but at this point it didn't matter. He wasn't taking the chance that something had been taken.
He was about to ask Happy about calling in Tony to try and track Spider-Man, but noticed that the man was still staring at the Cyclone. Turning to look at it he saw why. A small, red silhouette stood at the top of the roller coaster staring back at them for a few moments before shooting a web and zipping away, with a lot less grace than usual, Steve noted.
Thinking quickly, he turned to see his shield laying on top of one the crates, sitting next to what looked like prototypes of it, and raced to grab it. Once he had the vibranium shield he rushed back to Happy.
"You handle the situation here, I'll go handle Spider-Man," and with that he rushed off without another word, not hearing what Happy frantically shouted after him.
"Stand down, Spider-Man,"
Peter looked up sharply at the large figure that had landed in front of him, hastily standing up as he disregarded the man's words. He almost doubled over in pain, wincing at the new bruise the hit from the shield was already forming. Just another injury to add to the pile he guessed. The teen held himself defensively, in a way that suggested he was prepared but not asking for a fight. Captain America tensed minutely in response as he drew himself into position but made no other move to show he was even remotely threatened, just held his shield in a warning manner.
"Agh, the hell man?!" he quipped out, too tired to even try and be respectful. In his defense, he had just saved the very shield he had just been hit with, as well as everything else that Captain America might use to fight with, and he didn't understand why he had been attacked in the first place. He felt rightfully pissed, "Why'd you hit me?!!"
The war hero didn't answer, just narrowed his eyes in an unreadable expression.
"Last warning, kid. Stand down,"
That wasn't going to work. He really needed to get home, more for the fact that he was probably going to pass out soon than the sake of his identity at this point. Besides, Mr. Stark was his mentor-or well, he was, he didn't know since he had taken his suit-but Mr. Rogers had no relation to him other than the fact that they had fought a couple of months ago, courtesy of Mr. Stark. His head throbbed painfully as he took a faltering step backwards, tensing in anticipation. When he thought back on it later, it was a stupid move. Like, stupid even for him, but the possible concussion and the adrenaline rush made it hard to think clearly. In that moment, the only instinct that made sense was to run.
So, he darted.
Ignoring his injured legs and arms he dashed to the edge of a building and leaped off, shooting a web out of his homemade web shooters. He had barely made it to the next building over, however, when his spidey sense flared again. Before Peter could properly react, a loud whooshing sound rang from above him and he fell. His web had been cut by the smooth vibranium, resulting in him to hit the sidewalk with a lot of force. His injuries and headache had taken effect and he was unable to slow his descent or catch himself, only reacting fast enough to cover his head.
The teen collided with the ground in a mess of limbs, scrapes and partially healed cuts reopening. He groaned in pain but quickly scrambled back up, leaping onto the side of the nearest building. Looking from where he had come from he saw the distinct figure of Steve Rogers jumping off a fire escape a couple of buildings over. The shield had bounced back to him and he looked like he was about to throw it again. "Being chased by Captain America. Man, what a great day!"
Alright, he really had to focus. He hadn't done to bad last time he had fought Captain America, but he was definitely in much better health then. As he was calculating his chances Mr. Stark's words came flooding back.
"If Cap had wanted to lay you out, he would've."
Well, it definitely seemed like Cap wasn't going easy on him anymore. At this point the most logical option would just be to surrender, he knew that, but another part of him knew he wouldn't. He wasn't going to surrender to someone when he had just saved all their shit. Besides, he honestly just wanted to go home, and maybe if he swung around fast enough, ran around in enough circles, he could lose Captain America.
Worth a shot.
He gave Captain America an annoyed glare, not that he could see it, before flipping off the building and shooting a web. He continued on as fast as he could go with his injuries screaming from the pressure he was putting on them, his headache building. Spider-Man managed to swing a few minutes before he was once again intercepted by the shield. It was aimed at his chest, but this time he was more prepared, and so he turned around mid-swing and managed to block it with his forearm. It still hurt and knocked him slightly to the side, but at least he hadn't fallen this time.
With a flick of his wrist he attached a web onto the shield, launching it back in the direction it had come from. With any luck, it would go a ways past Cap and hopefully distract him long enough for Peter to get him off of his tail.
No such luck.
Steve had run off in the direction that Peter had swung, completely oblivious to all of Happy's yelling for him to stop. How Tony ever dealt with that man was a mystery to him, but he would have to think about it later. Right now there was an angry super soldier going after a teen who just took down a plane midair, and probably had the shit beat out of him too. Happy didn't know Steve particularly well, but he wasn't taking any chances.
As soon as Steve was out of sight and it was apparent that he wasn't listening, much less coming back, he pulled out his phone and clicked on Tony's number. He had called the man earlier to report that the plane had crashed, so it wasn't a surprise that he picked up after only one ring.
"What happened to it?" Tony asked immediately, "Fill me in. Why did my state-of-the-art-plane crash?"
"It was the kid, Tony, but right n-"
"The kid? As in Peter crashed my plane?! How the-why did-"
"Tony I would love to explain everything, but I don't know exactly what happened," Happy snapped, "What I do know is that Steve was-"
"Steve?!" Tony seemed to choke on air for a second, "He was in on it too?"
"If you would give me a moment to explain," the Head of Security drawled, getting a little anxious. He really needed to get Tony to make sure something wasn't happening to Peter, like getting in a fight with a trained soldier after already fighting someone in a jacked up flight suit.
"Yeah, sorry," he apologized, though it didn't sound very sincere, "Continue,"
"Spider-Man left a note," Happy started, mindful of using the kid's superhero name with Toomes so close by, "or maybe it was the webs, I don't know, and now he thinks that Spider-Man took down the jet to steal things,"
"And now he's-?"
"Yes, he's gone after him, and the kid just fought someone head on with alien powered tech while wearing nothing but a cotton hoodie. I don't know how hurt he is and I don't know what Cap will do once he finds him-"
"I'm on it, Happy. I'm on my way out to the beach-"
"He was headed North of Coney Island, go that way instead,"
"Noted. Continue on cleanup, I'll give you an update once I've got him. But then you're going to give me the lay down of the entire situation,"
"Got it. Bye, Tony"
Then he hung up without another word, moving to focus on directing the police to come and get the man still restrained by webs in front of him.
Finally Peter had made it back to the warehouse, now he just needed to locate Toomes' car, hope that it was unlocked, and grab his phone. It was easy to find the car that had driven him to Homecoming, and he jogged over to it when he spotted it. I should probably text Ned, he thought as he reached for the handle of the backseat, I bet he thinks I'm dea-
It was locked. Great . He groaned in exasperation throwing up his arms and groaning again at the pain. This night was just not his night.
"It doesn't count as a crime, right?" he thought out loud, "I mean, he did just try and kill me-and it's my phone, so..."
He fought with himself for another minute, after all, it wasn't just Toomes' car, it was his family's car too. They would probably need it, and for it to not be broken would be preferable. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to decide.
In the reflection of the car window he saw a figure not too far behind him, Captain America. Again. Honestly, Peter thought Steve Rogers was really cool, he had had a Captain America lunchbox, but he was tired and in pain. Couldn't he just give it a rest?
The teen was too caught up in his thoughts, or maybe it was the concussion-he was almost positive he had one now-to realize that Captain America had thrown his shield. In the last second he managed to dodge it, sort of. It hit the car window, cracking it, and bounced back, somehow managing to hit him square in the chest. He was knocked to the ground, a soft moan escaping his lips as he landed awkwardly on his shoulder. The red clad superhero didn't even have a chance to get back up.
Steve Rogers was on him in an instant, his shield held out in front of him in a threatening manner, a foot pressing down on the teen's leg.
"Do you surrender?" the man asked. Peter remained stubbornly silent, knowing that he was beaten, and should probably just surrender. But he didn't want to bow down to Captain America. Need he once again stress the point that he had saved all of the Avengers' tech from a super villain? "Spider-Man," Mr. Rogers commanded, "Do you surrender?"
To prove the point that he wasn't messing around he applied more pressure onto his leg, making Peter flinch. He didn't know exactly what had hurt his legs. but they did feel like they had been put through the ringer. Like every other part of his body. But he wasn't taking this shit, maybe if he just didn't stop swinging for a while, didn't make any stops he could shake Mr. Rogers.
In a flash he shook off Mr. Rogers and darted away, tripping slightly at the new pain in his leg. He's embarrassed to say he didn't get very far, just managing to leap halfway up to the wall of the recently collapsed warehouse before being tackled midair. They both collided with the ground, Mr. Rogers taking the brunt of the force, but it didn't slow him down.
Immediately, he grabbed the young superhero and pushed him against the wall, holding him up by his neck. Peter gurgled slightly, meekly clawing at Captain America's hand, not that it made much of a difference. His ears were ringing, his vision was getting blurry, and he was still bleeding since his wounds kept on getting reopened.
"I don't know why you suddenly decided to try and steal from the Avengers, Spider-Man, but it was a bad idea. So just surrender," said Steve Rogers, his blue eyes steely, his mouth a thin line. The serious expression accentuated by his beard.
Peter couldn't really respond, he was having a hard time breathing , so talking was kind of out of the question. Just as Peter was about to nod-trying to loose Captain America had been a lost cause to begin with anyway-a distant humming caught his attention. He turned his head as much as he could, trying to locate the source of the strange humming. It sounded familiar and gave him a sense of déjà vu that he only had to ponder for a few moments before he remembered where he had heard it before.
Iron Man was on his way.
In just seconds the Iron Man armor landed just a few feet behind Mr. Rogers with a resounding clank, holding out a repulsor aimed at the man in front of it.
"Hey, Rogers," came the robotic sounding voice of Mr. Stark from the armor. The greeting was casual but Mr. Stark's voice sounded dangerous, threatening, and just plain pissed off. It made Peter shiver, he didn't know he had made Mr. Stark this mad, but he had crashed the man's plane, so probably not a great way to make friends. "Mind letting the guy who just saved our asses down?"
Wait, what?
"Saved our-Tony what-" Mr. Rogers spluttered out, his hand still on Peter's throat.
"Did you even try to understand the situation before you hunted down Spider-Man, or did you just go after him guns a' blazing?"
Mr. Rogers remained silent, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked as Tony in disbelief and confusion.
"Now. Last warning. Put the Spider Kid down ," If Mr. Stark had sounded threatening before it didn't compare to how he sounded now. It was murderous to say the least, but Peter was having a hard time focusing on it. His headache was pounding and his vision was swimming in and out of focus.
Finally the pressure around his throat was released. He inhaled sharply as his feet touched the ground again, wobbling slightly. The teen found himself leaning against the wall for support, taking in a few deep breaths. It took him a few moments to register that Mr. Stark was speaking to him, or that he had moved to stand almost right in front of Peter while Mr. Rogers backed away.
"-kid! C'mon kid, you need to work with me here,"
Peter looked up sharply, making eye contact with his mentor(former mentor? he still didn't know, but seeing as the man wasn't still mad at him, maybe he was) who had stepped out of the suit. The gasping teen blinked, unsure if he was actually seeing Mr. Stark in front of him. He thought the man would've just remotely piloted a suit or something. Mr. Stark snapped his fingers in front of Peter's face, clearly trying to get his attention, making him flinch.
"Hey, Mr. Stark," he croaked, his throat sore from smoke and being held up against a wall.
"Hey kid,"
"Sorry about your plane," that got a chuckle out of the man, who clapped a careful hand on his shoulder. The good one thankfully.
"It's alright, kid. You did good,"
"Tha-" he cut himself off with a coughing fit, doubling over in pain as his ribs were jostled around, "Thanks, Mr. Stark, but I think I'm going to go home now. Kinda tired," Peter moved off of the wall, not waiting for a response, and tried to head back home. Key word; tried. He only made it a couple of steps before-
"Kid!"
Mr. Stark caught him as his feet buckled underneath him, saving the teen from hitting his head on the concrete. Again. His mentor gently moved him to lean back against the wall, muttering a quick, "Chill out for a second kid,"
"He needs medical, Tony,"
"I can see that! And maybe he would have gotten it by now if you hadn't been choking him, Rogers!"
They continued arguing as Peter felt himself drifting off, not being able to find it in himself to even try and focus. It wasn't until he felt himself being jostled around that he snapped his eyes open, not even realizing he had closed them. He startled, to say the least, thrashing about weakly. He couldn't remember what was happening, all he remembered was that his senses had never calmed down and everything still screamed DANGER!!
"-alright. You're alright, kid! I'm not gonna hurt you!" came a slightly panicked voice from above him. Peter stilled as he recognized it. Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark wouldn't hurt him, "Good kid. You're alright,"
And with that they were moving, wind whipping against his exposed skin and baggy clothing. It didn't take long for him to pass out, curled up in Iron Man's arms. He always got embarrassed whenever he thought about it, thankfully, Mr. Stark never brought it up.