Fluff, angst & everything in between | Spider-man One-shots

Please- not him, please- {1}

To C, Happy Birthday, I love you. <3

P.S.: the randomly capital words in the middle of a sentence are on purpose yes. If it bothers you, sorry, it's to show emotion and the pain/desperation he's feeling. Enjoy!!!

tw: major character death 

The days blurred by without meaning, in a haze of alcohol and tinkering in his lab.

The colors in everything were dull. The view out of his tower no longer caught his interest. Nothing really does anymore. He takes another swig from the almost empty bottle, and goes back to his tinkering.

He has no concept of time anymore after he brought down the blinds on the windows. To look at them hurts. To glance to his right and see the abandoned table and bench, a half-finished web shooter laying there hurt. He tries not to look over there too much. He tries to avoid the windows where sometimes he imagines he can see faint footprints from where Peter would scare him half to death by surprising him by being on the window. Tony would grumble about him dirtying his windows and Peter would laugh, he'd let him in, ruffle his hair while Peter tried to duck away with an indignant, "Mr Stark!!", and Tony would smirk at him.

He would let him crawl all over his tower and get footprints over everything if only he could come back. Rubbing his chest he takes another drink, trying to drown the pain.

He knew in the back of his mind that Peter wouldn't this for him. But Peter wasn't here and Tony couldn't stand being sober while he wasn't here. Because it wasn't fair. 

It just WASN'T FAIR!!

IT WASN'T FAIR!?!?!

Brown doe eyes flash across his vision filled with light and happiness, then again but lifeless and dull.

With a cry of anguish he turns and throws the bottle, barely hearing it shatter against the wall, spraying him with alcohol and glass. He doesn't feel the pain.

He hardly feels anything anymore other than this pain.

This sorrow and anguish and pain is so deep and wide that he's drowning in it. It's in his chest and his mind and in everything he sees. The IronMan suits that they would take apart together so Peter could see how they worked. The mad scramble of calculations they would work on together on the huge whiteboard at the back of the lab. Right now there was a half-finished equation, just waiting there for someone that would never come back.

Because Tony failed him.

He failed the citizens of New York., and he failed Peter's friends.

He failed May.

And most of all he failed Peter.

He can still feel his blood covering his skin and soaking into his clothes all these months later and the feel of his kid's hand going lifeless in his own.

He can feel the burning flames around them, the groaning of the building around them as it threatened to fall.

It was supposed to be a routine patrol.

Peter saw a burning building and went in to help.

Tony, tired of waiting for him at the tower for their regular Friday movie night decided he'd make the newspapers go in a tizzy about an IronMan-Spider-Man team up and while chuckling flew out to join him.

Something was unnatural about the fire.

It burned hotter.

Burned through the buildings supports faster than normal.