Work Text:
Peter stretched his legs out in front of him, lounging comfortably against the plush seat of the Quinjet as the other Avengers followed him onboard. Their latest mission had gone smoothly, a very appreciated change from their recent string of failures in attempting to track down the latest iteration of Extremis. Peter, Tony, Steve, and Natasha had infiltrated and cleared out a heavily guarded warehouse, restraining the workers without significant harm to either side; SHIELD had arrived quickly to take them in and confiscate - and destroy, Peter hoped - the unstable Extremis. A success by any metric, as far as Peter could tell.
“Legs out of the aisle, Underoos,” Tony scolded as he maneuvered carefully around the sprawling teen, nudging Peter’s wandering foot out of danger with one of his own. The Iron Man suit broke into smaller pieces with each step, falling off of the billionaire and reforming neatly across the jet.
“Sorry.” Peter shot his mentor a look that definitely wasn’t, drawing his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. That wasn’t necessary - there was certainly room to spare - but it always made Peter feel better. The Quinjet was Stark tech and very reliable, but he still felt a frisson of fear whenever he flew on a plane. He barely remembered his parents, but he remembered Ben and May carefully explaining that they weren’t coming back, that their plane had failed, and there was nothing anyone could do to save them. He had felt small and helpless. He still did sometimes.
A slender hand pressed lightly on his shoulder as Natasha moved past him to take her own seat, the Black Widow offering a brief moment of contact. She had been there for Peter’s panic attack the first time Peter experienced turbulence a year before, and she’d seen him adjust and acclimate every flight since. The touch wasn’t a reassuring I’ve got you; it was a satisfied you’ve got this.
Steve was last, still chattering with the SHIELD agent in charge of the evidence hand-over through his earpiece as the doors closed behind him. Without breaking stride or conversation, he flashed Peter a quick, warm smile and slung his shield into a frame beside his seat. He didn’t sit yet, looking around at his team as the AI-controlled aircraft began to roll forward. Peter returned his smile with a beaming one of his own, tucking his chin against his knees and letting his eyes fall shut as a heavy blanket of contentment settled over him. The family he’d found with the Avengers made him feel safe and grounded. There were parts of himself that he kept secreted away from most of them, the grief and failures that had defined the earliest parts of his Spider-Man journey, but he trusted the team with more than just his life. He trusted them with his heart, too.
Which is why when the plane shuddered with an unexpected impact only 15 minutes later, Peter’s first thought was of his father and Tony both crashing, two parental figures taken away from him too soon. No. Not again.
Tony was already recalling his suit to him, which meant he would be okay even if the plane dropped out of the sky; he would be safe from debris and could fly. Despite wanting to race to the man’s side, Peter turned his attention to the other two Avengers. Steve had enhanced healing and was already grabbing his shield cautiously, but that wasn’t enough; that wouldn’t save him if they all went down. He flicked his wrists, yanking open cabinet doors with his webs - too hard, perhaps, since one door was yanked completely off. It uncovered a pair of parachutes, and he pulled them towards him with another set of webs, flinging one each at Steve and Natasha.
“Peter,” Steve caught the pack but didn’t put it on, making his way over to the teen as the plane jolted again. “We’re okay; I’m sure Tony’s got this handled. Let’s get this on you, though, just in case.” His hand closed down on Peter’s shoulder, and the boy scrambled backwards as his vision blurred.
Uncle Ben, his hand on Peter’s shoulder as he knelt before the sobbing child. “I’m so sorry, Peter. There was nothing anyone could do. They never wanted to leave you, but I promise your Aunt May and I will take good care of you.”
“And you won’t l-leave me?” He’d asked, leaning into the weathered hand.
“Not if I can help it. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” But he hadn’t.
Peter was still small, helpless.
“Kid?” Steve’s hand hung in the air, confused worry mapped across his face. “I’m not going to hurt you. You know that, right?” Tony looked up sharply from FRIDAY’s display at that, eyes narrowing as he watched them for a brief moment. Once it was clear that Peter was safe - safe, but not okay, chest heaving and heart racing badly enough for Karen to be advising him of breathing techniques - he returned to sorting through the projections and muttering about evasive maneuvers and cloaking technology. And still Peter gasped for breath. And still Steve waited.
“Put it on.” Peter choked out the words, stumbling back towards Steve; his trembling hands clutched at the parachute and shoved it at the supersoldier’s broad chest, pressing it into his grip urgently. “Put it on, Captain Rogers, put it on. I can’t lose you, too, please, pl-”
“We’ll wear them, little spider.” Natasha cut through his panicked gasps easily, shrugging her own parachute over slender shoulders as she came to join them. Shifting to brace one hand on the seat behind Peter, she curved her arm subtly around him in a silent offer of strength and comfort. “We’re safe, паучок. Stark will fix this; he won't let you fall.”
Peter wasn’t worried about himself, but he was sure Natasha knew that - especially with the way she leveled a green-eyed glare at Steve until he put on his own parachute pack. Once all three of the others were safe enough, Peter sagged in relief against Natasha’s arm and let the spy tug him gently to her side. “Mr. Stark, what’s going on?”“Looks like we missed a couple of assh- ah, agents from the Extremis operation.” Tony replied grimly, throwing his projections into the air between them for Peter to look at. “Hidden jet, probably at least a half mile from the warehouse. If we can get away, I’ll let SHIELD know to sweep for them.” He coached FRIDAY through dodging the next projectile, forcing the Quinjet to lurch forward to avoid it. Peter suspected that his own developing panic attack was the only thing keeping Iron Man from sweeping out into the sky to engage but he wasn’t too proud to allow it. The other three of them couldn’t fly, and Steve and Natasha would be vulnerable if Tony left them. And if something happened to Tony and Peter couldn’t get to him either… no, even being stuck inside a plane was better.
“Worst case scenario, you’ve got parachutes on those two, and you can stick to them or me until we’re back on the ground. You did good, kid.” Tony let FRIDAY handle the next roll on her own, turning his full attention on Peter. “You kept us safe. I promise. Now, let us keep you safe, okay?”
All it took was one shaky nod from Peter for Steve to press closer, curling his arm around the teen’s waist and sandwiching Peter between himself and Natasha. “I’m sorry.” Steve sighed, Peter’s enhanced hearing straining to pick up the words. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I wanted to get the parachute on you. You’re young-”
“But I could have webbed myself to any of you.” Peter protested weakly, voice still hoarse from his earlier panic.
“You’re right.” The soldier agreed immediately, “I wasn’t thinking ahead. You were. And once I’d gotten mine on, I could have found another one for you if we still needed it. I thought you were scared of crashing because of…” He grimaced, not wanting to further trigger the teen.
There was a long silence - and a sharp glare from Natasha over Peter’s head - before he finally spoke again. “I know I can web myself to something before I hit the ground. But I’m afraid of losing other people.”
Steve hissed out a sympathetic breath, sitting with the other’s fear for a moment. “I’ve crashed a plane once before.” He offered eventually, “And I’m not planning to do it again. We’re the only ones on board; if something happened, I’m sure you and Tony could get us to land safely even if you had to web us to his suit.”
“Don’t tempt me; I will.”
Peter’s shaky laugh earned a relieved smile from Tony as the older man rose and moved to join them in the center of the craft. “FRIDAY thinks we’re out of range now. We’re safe; no webs needed.” He opened his arms instinctively as Peter twisted away from Steve and Natasha, throwing himself against his mentor’s chest and snaking his arms around armored shoulders. “I’ve got you, Underoos. No matter what happens, I’ve got you.”
“Mr. Stark, when the plane- I thought- I couldn’t-”
“I know, kid. Come on, you’re going to get gunk all over your face if you don’t- here. Let me.” Moving carefully to avoid scraping Peter’s wet cheeks with the metal of the gauntlet, he carefully tugged off the other’s scarlet mask and tossed it at Steve. “That’s better. Deep breaths for me, Pete.”
Peter’s cheeks were flushed red - both from embarrassment and crying - and he ducked his head against the suit’s metal shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I shouldn’t-”
“Hey.” Tony protested, wrapping his arms around the smaller superhero. He wanted to step out of the suit and hold Peter directly, but he thought the boy might panic again if he gave up flight and protection right now. “If you can’t fall apart around your family, then we’ve failed you. We’ve all got each other’s backs. We’ll make it alright.”
“Yeah.” Peter’s whisper was muffled against Tony’s suit, but his breathing slowed gradually, and when hiccuping sobs escaped his lips, he managed not to cringe away from the display of vulnerability. This time, he didn’t flinch as Natasha and Steve brushed light touches against each of his shoulders. He leaned into them instead, his faint smile bittersweet but trusting. “We’ll make it alright. Together.”