Work Text:
˚₊𓆩༺🕸️༻𓆪₊˚
Peter slowly blinked his eyes open, wincing as a bright light overhead forced him to squint. For a moment, he was completely disoriented. Where was he? Just seconds ago, he could’ve sworn he was walking home from school, backpack slung over one shoulder, earbuds in.
Now, he was lying on a cold, hard metal floor that sent sharp chills up his spine. Groaning softly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, muscles stiff and head pounding. As his vision adjusted to the sterile brightness above, he finally took in his surroundings, and instantly froze.
He was in a cell. A real one. Four smooth metal walls, a harsh fluorescent light buzzing above, and a heavy steel door across from him with narrow bars at eye level.
But that wasn’t the part that made him gasp.
Sprawled across the floor around him were five very unconscious figures, unmistakable even in this artificial light. Black Widow. Iron Man. Hawkeye. Bruce Banner. Captain America. The actual Avengers. All here. All knocked out.
Peter’s breath caught in his throat. His heart began to race as he stared at them, struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.
What the hell is happening?
If it weren’t for his accelerated metabolism, he’d probably still be out like the rest of them. Instead, he’d woken up first, which, honestly, was a miracle. If he had come to at the same time as the Avengers? Yeah, heart attack. Instantly.
He’d only met them once before, and it had been in the middle of chaos. A villain had been tearing through Midtown, and Peter, as SpiderMan, had jumped in without hesitation. He’d saved Hawkeye from being crushed at the last second, slipping into the fight like he belonged there. Hawkeye had shouted a quick “thanks,” but before Peter could even say “no problem,” Iron Man had stormed over and started firing off questions like he was a suspect. The “conversation” had ended with Peter swinging away mid interrogation, overwhelmed and very much done.
Stark had tried to follow, full suit, no warning, but Peter had lost him in the skyline within minutes.
So yeah. Not exactly friends.
Peter glanced around the cell again. No Thor. He vaguely remembered something about Thor heading back to Asgard, some intergalactic emergency, or maybe just a well earned vacation. Either way, lucky him.
The only exit seemed to be the solid steel door on the far wall. Peter rose unsteadily to his feet, the metallic floor humming faintly beneath him. He staggered toward the door and wrapped his fingers around the cool bars to steady himself. Through the small opening, he spotted a control pad mounted on the outer wall, just barely within web-slinging range.
He took a slow breath, steadying his hand, and raised his fingers to aim.
One clean shot, and maybe-
A groan behind him broke the silence.
Peter jerked around instantly, every nerve on high alert. His eyes locked on Tony Stark, who was slowly pushing himself upright, rubbing his forehead with a pained grimace. The rest of the Avengers were beginning to stir, Hawkeye shifting against the wall, Natasha exhaling sharply, Steve blinking up at the light, Banner groaning under his breath.
So much for the escape plan.
If Peter shot a web now, he’d out himself instantly. No more secret identity. No more anonymity. And right now, he wasn’t ready for that.
Tony’s gaze drifted around the metallic cell, taking in his unconscious teammates before landing on Peter. a teenage boy clutching the door bars like he didn’t belong here, like he’d been caught in the middle of something way too big for him.
Their eyes met.
Tony’s eyes widened in confusion… then something sharper.
Peter didn’t move. Just stood frozen, 15 years old and very much out of his depth, staring back like a deer caught in headlights.
“What the hell is going on?” Tony asked, voice hoarse as he leaned against one of the cold metal walls, arms crossed. His gaze was sharp, narrowed directly at Peter, filled with confusion and more than a hint of suspicion.
Peter swallowed hard. “Uhm… I- I don’t know, Mr. Stark,” he stammered, glancing back toward the door as if the answer might be waiting outside. After a moment, he let go of the bars and slowly turned to face the Avengers, suddenly very aware of how out of place he was.
Steve sat up with a grunt, his palm pressed to his forehead. “What the hell happened?” he asked groggily, eyes shifting between Tony and Peter.
Tony didn’t miss a beat. “Well, Captain Smart, if you’d open your eyes a little wider, maybe you’d notice we’ve been kidnapped. And apparently… with a kid.”
Peter flinched a little at that. Kid.
Clint stirred on the floor, brow furrowing, while Natasha silently pushed herself up, already scanning the room like a trained predator. Bruce groaned quietly, blinking as he tried to orient himself. They were still in that inbetween place, not fully awake, but rapidly catching up.
Steve, always the soldier, rolled his eyes but winced slightly from the motion. “Easy,” he muttered to himself before looking up at Peter, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and caution.
“Why’s he here?” he asked finally, gesturing toward Peter.
Peter raised his hands slightly, defensively. “I swear, I don’t know! I was just heading home from school and then… I woke up here.” His voice cracked near the end, and he hated how young and helpless he sounded.
“He was already standing by the door when I woke up,” Tony added, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I thought maybe he had something to do with this until I remembered he’s, like, what, twelve?”
“Fifteen,” Peter corrected automatically, then instantly regretted saying anything at all.
Tony gave him a dry look. “Great. That makes this all so much better.”
Natasha’s eyes swept over Peter, her expression unreadable but calculating. “He doesn’t seem like a threat,” she murmured, but the way her fingers subtly tensed at her sides told a different story. She wasn’t letting her guard down. Not yet.
Clint sat up fully, his back to the wall, and rubbed his temples. “Okay, either this is a really weird dream or we’ve been seriously compromised.”
“That’d explain the migraine,” Bruce muttered, finally upright and looking around, glasses askew. “I can’t… feel him.”
Everyone stilled.
Peter’s brow furrowed. “Feel who?”
“Hulk,” Bruce clarified softly. “They must’ve done something.”
Suddenly, a crackling burst of static filled the cell, echoing from a hidden speaker above. Everyone’s heads snapped upward as the lights flickered, and then a voice, distorted, mechanical, boomed through the room:
“Welcome, Avengers. You must be wondering why you’re here. Well… it’s quite simple. We kidnapped you.”
A pause.
Peter instinctively stepped back as the voice continued, cold and eerily calm.
“Recently, we’ve grown… disappointed in your performances as the world’s so-called heroes. So, we’ve decided to remove you. One by one. Starting today. You have five hours left to live.”
A chill ran down Peter’s spine. He tried to speak, but his mouth had gone dry.
The voice continued, undeterred by the shocked silence below.
“As for the child… he was unfortunate enough to witness something he shouldn’t have. So he had to come along. Consider it collateral damage.”
Peter felt the eyes of every Avenger snap toward him.
“Don’t bother looking for weapons,” the voice droned. “We’ve taken them all. Hulk’s arms are restrained with inhibitors, he won’t be transforming. This cell is reinforced with vibranium alloy. Without your powers, you’re nothing. You’re just people in costumes. Let’s see how far you get without your toys.”
The speaker fizzled and went dead.
Silence fell like a hammer.
Peter’s chest was tight, his breathing shallow. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be terrified or angry- or both.
“Well,” Tony said finally, dragging a hand down his face. “That was cheerful.”
Clint let out a low whistle. “Kid, you really know how to show up at the worst time.”
“I didn’t ask to be here!” Peter blurted out, defensive again. “I- I don’t even know who these people are or what they want!”
Steve looked over at him, calmer than the others, but serious. “They said you saw something. Do you know what they’re talking about?”
Peter hesitated. He did remember something strange… men in suits, something glowing, a warehouse…
“I-I might’ve seen something on my way home,” he admitted slowly. “There was this van parked in an alley near my school. I didn’t think much of it at first, but then I saw them unloading these crates, and one of them was glowing red. When they spotted me, I ran, but I guess… not fast enough.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “You saw tech. Probably Stark tech, if it glowed red.”
“That’s possible,” Bruce added. “Stolen, maybe. Or repurposed.”
“Either way,” Natasha said sharply, “they brought us here because of it.”
Peter sat down slowly against the metal wall, hugging his knees as the others fell into a tense silence. He couldn’t help but feel the weight of their stares, he was the wild card, the unknown, the kid who’d gotten tangled in something way too big.
But despite the fear rising in his throat, he clenched his jaw.
He had to save them. Even if it meant revealing his identity.
A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the faint humming of the overhead bulb. For a while, no one spoke, everyone was still trying to get their bearings after waking up drugged, cuffed, and imprisoned. Then, finally, Tony Stark broke the quiet.
“So, kid. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice softer than before. The suspicion from earlier had faded into something else, curiosity, maybe even concern.
Peter hesitated before answering, his voice quiet. “Peter. Peter Parker.”
The name earned a few exchanged glances between the Avengers, but no one said anything. It was surreal for Peter, actually talking to the Tony Stark, not on TV, not from afar, but face to face. Well, technically face to helmet-hair, but still. Real life Tony Stark. Peter swallowed hard.
Tony gave a slow nod and leaned back against the wall again. “Fifteen, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer but still clearly chewing on the strangeness of being locked up with a high schooler.
Peter just nodded in response, avoiding everyone’s gaze. The quiet settled again like a heavy fog.
He needed a plan.
He couldn’t stay here, and he definitely couldn’t let the Avengers find out who he really was, not here, not like this. The stakes were too high. He glanced around again, studying the thick metal walls and the reinforced door. Nothing. No cracks. No vents. No wires exposed.
Nothing he could use.
“So,” Clint finally said, standing and stretching his arms above his head, “we gotta come up with a plan. Just sitting here isn’t gonna save us.”
Peter half-listened, still scanning the room, his mind racing. He needed to find a way out, one that didn’t end with him web-slinging his identity right into the middle of an Avenger debrief.
“I agree,” Steve said with his usual calm authority. He leaned forward, clasping his hands and glancing around the room as well. “We may not have our weapons or powers, but we’ve been through worse with less.”
Tony grunted, pushing himself upright beside Steve. “Okay, sure. But let’s do a quick inventory: I can’t summon my suit, Cap’s shield is MIA, Bruce can’t Hulk out thanks to whatever those cuffs are, Clint’s got no arrows, and Natasha, well, Romanoff without a gun is basically just extremely pissed off.”
“Thanks,” Natasha said dryly, not even looking at him as she continued pacing the cell, eyes sharp. “I’m still more useful than you.”
Clint leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. “Come on, Stark. You built your first suit in a cave with a box of scraps. I’m pretty sure we can get out of this hunk of metal with five brain cells between us.”
Tony exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “That was a one-time thing, Barton. Not exactly a scalable business model.”
Peter stood near the wall, still pretending to examine the metal but mostly listening now. They’re just people, he reminded himself. Really smart, really dangerous people… but still people.
Still, this wasn’t the time for hero worship, not when their lives were on the line.
“I don’t know how we’re going to escape,” Natasha said, her tone clipped and focused as she crouched by the door and examined the small grated window. “I’ve scanned every inch of this place. Whoever built it knew what they were doing. No seams, no weak points. They’ve planned this for a long time.”
“And if we try to jump whoever comes through that door, they’ll shoot first. No hesitation,” she added, her eyes narrowing.
Tony let out another sigh and slumped down the wall, shutting his eyes with a shake of his head. “Great. So we’re in an unbreakable box, powerless, weaponless, and apparently under some kind of evil Yelp review. ‘Dear Avengers: Your customer service sucks, prepare to die.’”
Steve shot him a look, but didn’t argue.
Peter remained silent. His hands twitched slightly, not from fear, but from restraint. His instincts were screaming at him to act, to do something, anything. But the moment he used his webs, or any strength above average, his secret was toast.
And then what?
Would they be angry? Disappointed? See him as reckless? He couldn’t face that, not from them.
But it was better than dying at least.
The tension in the cell simmered beneath the surface. Steve was pacing now, while Natasha silently studied the bolts on the door. Bruce sat with his head in his hands, trying to keep calm, and Clint was muttering something to himself about pressure points. Tony had gone quiet, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the wall as he thought. Peter knew someone needed to speak up soon, and unfortunately, it looked like that someone had to be him.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um. I… I saw something. Before any of you woke up.”
Five heads turned toward him immediately. Peter felt like a spotlight had hit him.
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Talk, kid.”
Peter took a step forward and gestured toward the solid metal door. “When I woke up, I went to check the door. I looked through the bars, there’s a small panel just outside. Some kind of control pad. But it’s way too far to reach, even if the door was cracked open.”
Natasha stood up straighter, interest piqued. “You’re sure?”
Peter nodded quickly. “Yeah. It had buttons and a little screen. Looked like the kind you’d use to open something electronically.”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” Steve asked, not accusing, just curious.
Peter scratched the back of his neck, suddenly very aware of everyone’s eyes on him. “I… wasn’t sure it’d help. And I didn’t want to get in the way. You’re the Avengers.”
That earned him a few exchanged glances. Natasha tilted her head at him. “You’re here too. That makes you a part of this now, whether you like it or not.”
Peter glanced at Tony, whose gaze was thoughtful now. Not suspicious anymore. Just calculating.
“Out of reach how?” Tony asked. “Like a few inches or?”
“More like a couple meters,” Peter said. “It’s on a wall across from the cell. Even if we pried the door open, we couldn’t touch it.”
Clint frowned. “Unless one of us grew an extra six feet overnight, that’s a problem.”
“There’s no reflective surface,” Bruce muttered. “Otherwise, we could try to bounce something-”
Peter’s brain was already racing. Could he web the panel from here? Yes, probably. But doing that in front of everyone would out him immediately. Even if he managed it, they’d put two and two together in seconds.
Steve moved toward the door and peered through the bars, confirming Peter’s report. “He’s right. It’s there. But it’s flush against the far wall. No way to reach it from here.”
Tony crossed his arms, muttering something under his breath, then louder: “They really thought of everything. Damn.”
Peter watched as they all started murmuring possible plans, bouncing ideas off each other like a dysfunctional brain trust. Every option they came up with would eventually require something more, strength, reach, or precision they didn’t currently have.
Or something Peter did have… but couldn’t show.
He backed away slightly, his mind spinning. If he timed it right… if they were distracted… maybe he could shoot a web without them seeing.
But it was risky. Too risky.
Still, if it meant saving them all, did he have a choice?
“Kid,” Tony said suddenly, snapping Peter out of his thoughts. “You said you looked around when you woke up. Anything else you saw? Vents? Wires? Cracks in the walls? Anything?”
Peter shook his head. “Just the panel. The walls are smooth, seamless. Whoever built this made sure we couldn’t MacGyver our way out.”
Tony let out a breath. “Great. So we’ve got five hours to figure out a way to touch a button that’s twenty feet away without any of us having access to anything useful. Fantastic.”
Natasha turned and studied Peter again, eyes narrowed slightly. Not in suspicion, more like assessment. “You’re pretty calm, considering.”
Peter shrugged, forcing a small smile. “Panic doesn’t help, right?”
Steve smiled faintly at that. “Smart kid.”
Peter stepped away from the group again and slowly made his way to the door. He looked through the bars once more, this time carefully measuring the distance with his eyes.
Too far.
Unless…
His fingers twitched. One web. Just one. He’d hit the panel, maybe open the door, and then what? Fight? Hide? Bluff?
They’ll know.
He could feel it, that familiar itch crawling up his spine. The pull of responsibility. Of power. Of choice.
And maybe, just maybe…
He wouldn’t have to hide much longer.
Peter stood in front of the cell door, heart pounding, trying to ignore the buzzing conversation behind him. The Avengers were debating, arguing over strategies, tossing out plans that would never work without their weapons or powers.
He could feel the weight of the secret pressing on his chest. They’re going to find out eventually. Might as well be now.
Peter narrowed his eyes at the control panel across the hall, not far, but just out of human reach. But he wasn’t just human, was he?
He took a deep breath, raising his arm slowly. With a mental nudge, something instinctive by now, he flexed the right muscles in his wrist.
Thwip!
A sharp, organic web shot out, hitting the control panel dead-on.
The sound was unmistakable.
Every voice behind him fell silent.
Peter’s stomach twisted as he yanked hard. The web snapped back as the control panel sparked, and the red lock light blinked to green. There was a heavy mechanical clunk as the cell door unlocked.
“…Did that just come out of your wrist?” Tony asked from behind him, voice low and stunned.
Peter turned around slowly, sheepish. “Yeah. Um. Surprise?”
There was a long pause.
Steve’s brows were furrowed as he looked Peter up and down. “You’re SpiderMan.”
Peter nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah. I was gonna say something earlier, but I didn’t want to freak anyone out. And also, I really didn’t want to get yelled at.”
“You’re fifteen,” Tony said sharply, stepping forward. “You shoot webs out of your body, and you’ve been doing this—what? For how long?”
Peter winced. “Couple years? Give or take. It’s not as bad as it sounds, I promise.”
Tony looked like he was trying to choose between yelling and passing out.
Natasha, oddly enough, didn’t look surprised. “Explains the weird web texture I found at that warehouse two months ago,” she muttered.
Clint raised an eyebrow. “That was you? I stepped in that. Took me two hours to get it out of my boots.”
Peter gave a small, nervous laugh. “Yeah… sorry about that.”
Bruce rubbed his forehead. “Okay, this is a lot. You’re a mutant?”
“I don’t think so,” Peter said. “I got bit by a radioactive spider. It’s… kind of a long story.”
“I want the long version later,” Tony said firmly. “Preferably with full medical scans and a list of every time you’ve almost died doing this.”
Peter shifted awkwardly. “That’s gonna be… a long list.”
Steve cleared his throat. “Alright. As much as I’d love to sit here and process this, we don’t have time. The door’s open. We need to move before they notice.”
“Agreed,” Natasha said, already moving toward the hallway and scouting ahead.
Tony walked past Peter, pausing just long enough to put a hand on his shoulder.
“We’re not done, kid,” he said, quiet but not unkind. “But you did good. For now.”
Peter nodded, heart racing, not just from adrenaline, but from the strange feeling of being seen. Really seen.
He wasn’t just some kid in a mask anymore.
He was part of the team.
˚₊𓆩༺ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ༻𓆪₊˚
Tony was the first to his gear, immediately suiting up. The whine of the Mark’s core spinning to life was the most comforting noise Peter had ever heard.
Steve retrieved his shield from a locked case, fingers running over the familiar star before strapping it to his back with practiced ease. Natasha and Clint armed themselves without a word, their bodies moving on instinct.
“Alarms are tripping,” Bruce warned, eyes flicking to the red flashing lights starting to pulse down the corridor. “We’ve got maybe five minutes before this place goes full lockdown.”
Peter was already moving.
He didn’t wait for instructions. He darted toward the wall and leapt up, hands and feet sticking effortlessly to the metal as he began climbing vertically. He reached the upper vents in seconds, peeking through one of the grates overlooking a series of halls branching out ahead.
“Two squads coming in. North and east corridor,” Peter called down. “Heavily armed.”
“Can you jam the doors?” Tony asked, already lifting into the air with repulsors warming up.
Peter nodded. “If I web the hydraulics, they won’t be able to open for a while.”
“Do it,” Steve said.
He moved fast, skittering across the ceiling like it was second nature, which, to him, it was. Hands and feet stuck with each contact, his balance perfect, even upside down. He webbed the control boxes, then the hinges, sealing both entrances just as the first guards came into view on the other side.
“Not today,” Peter muttered, dropping down just as the doors jammed shut with a mechanical groan and a frustrated shout from behind the glass.
The others were already moving again.
They pushed forward, deeper into the facility, now armed and dangerous. Peter stuck to the higher ground, crawling across overhead pipes and clinging to corners. It was strange, moving like this with them, like he wasn’t hiding anymore. Like he didn’t have to.
He saw the way Steve glanced up now and then, checking on his position. The way Clint gave a little nod when Peter dropped down behind a guard and webbed their weapon before they could raise it.
They saw him now.
Not just as a kid tagging along sometimes. Not just a mystery. But as part of the team.
They reached the final blast door, massive, reinforced, no keypads in sight.
Tony cursed under his breath. “We don’t have the codes.”
Peter stepped forward again, squinting at the edges. “I can get through. There’s a gap in the side, barely a few inches. But I think I can squeeze up and around. There’s probably a manual override in the panel behind it.”
“Too dangerous,” Tony said immediately, stepping in front of him. “You could get stuck. Or worse.”
Peter tilted his head slightly. “And if I don’t, we’re all stuck here.
Tony hesitated.
Peter smiled, small, nervous, but determined. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Before Tony could argue, Peter was already climbing again, gripping the doorframe and pulling himself up and sideways, flattening his body and worming through a narrow maintenance vent just above the door.
There were grunts of effort, the scrape of his shoulders, a hiss of pain when he bumped an elbow too hard, but then:
Clunk.
The door groaned open.
Peter dropped down beside them a moment later, dust-covered and grinning. “Ta-da.”
Tony just stared at him for a beat before muttering, “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“Add it to the list,” Clint said, patting Tony’s back.
The hallway beyond led straight to the surface, and freedom.
Peter paused at the edge, looking back at them.
“We’re not done, kid,” Tony had said earlier.
Peter knew he was right.
“Over there, a jet!” Bruce shouted, his breath misting in the cold night air. He pointed toward a sleek, white aircraft parked near the far end of the clearing, partially obscured by shadows and snow. “If I can rewire some of the systems, I might be able to get it up and running!”
“Perfect. Let’s move, everyone!” Steve called, already taking off at a sprint.
The team surged forward across the uneven terrain, boots pounding against the frost-covered ground. Peter easily pulled ahead, his enhanced strength and reflexes pushing him several steps in front of the others. His lungs burned from the icy air, but adrenaline kept him moving.
As they reached the jet, Bruce immediately veered off toward the back, disappearing beneath the tail section and diving into an open maintenance panel. Peter slowed briefly, trying to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, but all he saw were sparks flickering in the dark and Bruce’s silhouette hunched over wiring.
A sudden hiss cut through the air, followed by a mechanical whirr, and then the jet’s main hatch creaked open. A narrow staircase unfolded, clanking loudly as it descended to the ground.
“Go, go, go!” Steve ordered, ushering them forward.
They raced up the steps, one after the other, still glancing over their shoulders, eyes scanning the treeline.
That’s when they saw them.
A squad of guards broke through the trees, sprinting across the tarmac with weapons drawn, shouts echoing in the cold.
“We’ve got company!” Natasha warned, pulling a sidearm from her belt.
“Move! We don’t have a lot of time!” Clint shouted, notching an arrow and letting it fly. It struck one of the guards square in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground.
Steve reacted instantly, hurling his shield with deadly precision. It ricocheted off one guard’s helmet and slammed into another’s chest, dropping both before snapping back into his hand.
Peter reached the top of the stairs and turned, instinctively ready to fire a web, but held back. No mask. No cover. Not yet. Not until he knew where they were going.
The others scrambled in behind him, rushing into the dimly lit cabin. Seconds later, Bruce came sprinting up the stairs, panting, his hair windswept and hands smudged with grease.
“I need the cockpit, now!” he barked, pushing past them.
“Go!” Steve said, stepping aside.
Bruce lunged forward, threw open the pilot’s door, and practically dove into the seat. He started flipping switches and typing commands across the interface with frantic energy.
The jet hummed to life, lights blinking on, systems booting one after another.
“Engines coming online in sixty seconds!” Bruce shouted from the front.
Outside, more guards were converging, too many now.
Peter felt his muscles coil, ready to fight if needed. But with any luck… they’d be airborne before it came to that.
They just had to hold out a little longer.
The engines roared louder, vibrating beneath their feet as Bruce worked feverishly in the cockpit. The lights inside the cabin flickered to full brightness, casting the interior in a sterile glow that felt both reassuring and far too exposed.
“Doors closing now!” Bruce called out, slamming a button.
The staircase began retracting with a mechanical groan, but not fast enough.
“They’re getting closer!” Peter shouted, peering out one of the windows. The guards had fanned out across the runway, flashlights sweeping across the jet’s hull. A few raised their rifles.
Tony, still half in his suit from earlier, stepped toward the ramp as it lifted. “Kid, get back-”
A shot rang out.
Peter flinched, ducking low instinctively. The bullet ricocheted off the jet’s exterior with a sharp metallic clang.
“They’re firing on us!” Natasha yelled.
“I see that,” Bruce gritted out from the cockpit. “Engines at 80%, almost there!”
Another burst of gunfire erupted, one round hitting dangerously close to the cockpit glass.
Without thinking, Peter sprinted forward, grabbed the edge of the doorframe, and shot a thick web toward the advancing guards. It hit the ground just ahead of them, splattering into a sticky net that tangled their legs and sent several of them sprawling to the ground.
“Did you just web grenade them?” Clint asked, eyebrows raised.
Peter shrugged, panting. “Kind of improvised.”
The staircase fully retracted and the rear hatch sealed shut with a heavy clunk. The jet jolted as Bruce activated the main thrusters.
“We’re taking off!” he warned. “Brace!”
The force of liftoff slammed them back against the walls. The jet shot upward into the dark sky, engines howling like thunder behind them.
For a long moment, no one said anything. Just the sound of heavy breathing, the hum of the flight systems, and the fading tension still crackling in the air.
Peter leaned back against the bulkhead, heart pounding. His hands were shaking a little, from adrenaline or from the cold or from the fact that he’d just revealed way, way too much about himself to the most dangerous people on Earth.
He felt eyes on him again and looked up to see Tony watching from across the cabin, arms crossed.
Peter braced for the lecture.
But instead, Tony just sighed and walked over, kneeling down slightly in front of him.
“You alright?” he asked, voice quiet this time. No bark. No bite.
Peter blinked. “Yeah. Just… a little overwhelmed.”
Tony gave a dry huff of a laugh. “Welcome to the club.”
Peter smiled faintly, but his fingers were still trembling, his body still buzzing with that wired, on-edge feeling that didn’t really go away after danger, just settled deeper.
Tony noticed.
“Here,” he said, reaching into a panel and pulling out a sealed water bottle. He handed it over. “You’re dehydrated. That’s probably not helping.”
Peter took it gratefully. “Thanks.”
Tony nodded, then studied him for a second. “You did good out there. With the web trap.”
Peter looked down. “I know you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad,” Tony said, then paused. “Okay, I am mad. But I’m also… confused. You’re fifteen, you shoot webs, and you saved our butts. That’s not exactly in the standard SHIELD file.”
“I didn’t really know what I was doing when I started,” Peter admitted. “I still kind of don’t.”
Tony leaned back slightly. “Yeah, well, most of us don’t. Difference is, we have backup.”
Peter looked up at him.
Tony added, “Next time, if there is a next time, you don’t rush the guards alone. You wait. We plan. Got it?”
Peter nodded quickly. “Got it.”
Tony stood and ruffled his curls briefly, then seemed to catch himself and stepped back. “Good. Drink that. And sit down before you pass out.”
Peter smiled faintly and obeyed, sinking back into the seat.
˚₊𓆩༺ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ༻𓆪₊˚
The room was cold, sterile, and uncomfortably bright. A dozen SHIELD agents stood around the perimeter, faces unreadable, weapons holstered but ready. At the long metal table, the Avengers sat with weary expressions, Steve, bruised and guarded; Natasha, stone-faced as ever; Bruce, restless; Clint, rubbing his aching shoulder. And at the far end sat Peter Parker.
His hands trembled slightly as he clutched the strap of his torn backpack. He was still in shock, the weight of the night pressing down on him harder than any prison cell ever could.
Director Maria Hill paced slowly before the group, voice calm but icy. “You were all kidnapped. The facility was breached by an unknown hostile force. None of our surveillance detected the operation in advance.”
Her eyes locked on Peter. “You—”
Peter swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to get involved.”
Hill raised a brow. “You say you were just walking home from school?”
“Yeah,” Peter said quietly. “I was. I wasn’t supposed to see anything.”
“Yet you did.”
Peter nodded, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t follow anyone. I just… I saw something I shouldn’t have. I tried to run.”
“And?” Hill pressed.
Peter’s voice cracked a little. “I wasn’t fast enough.”
A silence fell over the room.
Tony finally spoke, voice rough but steady. “He didn’t get kidnapped because he was trying to play hero. He got caught because bad people saw him, and dragged him in.”
Hill’s gaze hardened. “And somehow you survived alongside trained Avengers?”
Peter gave a small, tired shrug. “I guess.”
Steve leaned forward, eyes softening. “He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he helped us when it counted.”
Hill’s eyes scanned the room, weighing. “He’s a minor. No clearance. Enhanced abilities unknown to SHIELD. No official training. That is a security risk.”
Tony folded his arms. “Or a kid who’s already in deeper than he should be. We can’t just walk away now.”
Hill’s stare sharpened. “He will be under constant surveillance. No exceptions.”
Peter met Tony’s eyes. “What happens to me now?”
Tony’s voice softened, almost protective. “For now, you stick with us. We keep you safe. But don’t expect this to be easy.”
Peter’s fingers clenched the edge of the table, determination flickering behind exhaustion. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Hill gave a curt nod. “Fine. But any misstep, and SHIELD takes full control. Understood?”
Tony nodded sharply. “Understood.”
The room’s tension thickened but shifted. This was no longer a simple debriefing.
It was a turning point.
˚₊𓆩༺ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ༻𓆪₊˚
Epilogue:
The sterile brightness of the debrief room had been replaced by the softer hum of the Stark Compound’s lab wing. Peter sat on a high stool, legs swinging awkwardly as Tony circled like a slightly impatient shark.
“Alright, Spider-Kid,” Tony began, eyes scanning the tablet in his hands. “You passed the ‘not a walking liability’ test. Barely. But hey, A for effort.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I want to be a ‘walking liability’ on purpose.”
Tony smirked. “Yeah, well, the world doesn’t care about your preferences. It’s all about survival.”
He flipped through the scans. “Your vitals are fine. Your brain is firing on all cylinders… mostly. Though your heart rate spikes every time someone says ‘SHIELD.’”
Peter snorted. “Not my favorite word.”
“Noted.” Tony tapped a few buttons, eyes never leaving the screen. “Now, your spider powers, they’re organic, which is weirdly convenient and simultaneously terrifying. Means no fancy web-shooters. Your body’s basically a high-tech biotech factory.”
Peter made a face. “I just wish my body factory came with an instruction manual.”
Tony chuckled dryly. “If it did, trust me, it’d say ‘Warning: Do not try this at home. Side effects may include unsolicited heroism and crippling guilt.’”
Peter grinned. “That sounds about right.”
Tony stepped closer, voice lowering a fraction. “Listen, kid. You’re gonna screw up. Probably a lot. But you won’t do it alone anymore. You’ve got backup. Me. The Avengers. And maybe a few tech toys you don’t even know about yet.”
Peter’s smile faltered a bit. “I’m still scared.”
Tony’s expression softened, just a touch. “Good. Scared keeps you sharp. But don’t let it freeze you. Use it. And if you ever feel like you’re drowning, you call me. No pride. No hesitation.”
Peter nodded, the weight of it settling on his shoulders.
Tony clapped him on the back with a smirk. “Alright, enough sentiment. Time for your first Stark Industries welcome gift: an all-expenses-paid tour of the most dangerous toy chest you’ve ever seen. Spoiler: There will be suits.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Suits?”
Tony winked. “Yeah. But that’s a conversation for after lunch.”
Peter laughed, the tension easing just enough.
As Tony turned to leave, he paused and glanced back. “One more thing, next time you decide to get kidnapped with the Avengers, try not to mess up the security so badly, okay?”
Peter grinned. “No promises.”
Tony shook his head, a rare genuine smile tugging at his lips as he walked away.