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Peter was no stranger to self-hatred. Though Aunt May and Uncle Ben made sure the boy knew he was loved when he was growing up, all it took was one whispered comment behind his back to throw him into a loop. The feeling faded every time he pulled the red mask over his head, but at the moment, he felt like the biggest failure in the world.
The teen sat on top of a building that overlooked the churning waters below, his mask abandoned at his side. He stared at the blue waves blankly, his feet swinging anxiously as he waited for Mr. Stark's Iron Man suit to return.
The familiar sound of thrusters caught his attention. The man he dreaded seeing landed behind him, still carrying an unconscious Phantom in his arms. He set the robber on the ground gingerly.
Peter swung his legs over and ran forward, bashing his knees as he knelt down. His eyes widened at the sight of blood smeared along the whites his mask. "Previously on Peter Screws the Pooch," Mr. Stark's threatening voice sounded through the Iron Man suit, "I tell you to stay away from this, instead, you hacked a multi-million dollar suit and sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do with the one person I told you to keep away from."
"I-is he okay?" Peter asked, choosing to ignore his mentor's words for the moment.
"No thanks to you," Mr. Stark's voice sneered down at him as he analyzed the sleeping body in front of him for any life-threatening injuries. "He's got ruptured blood vessels throughout his body, none too serious, but he's weak," The man explained gruffly as he kneeled down, hand stretching out towards his mask.
"Wait, wait, what're you doing?" Peter exclaimed, his hands shooting forward in an attempt to block Mr. Stark's. He immediately regretted it, however, when the man looked up to face him, blue eyes glowing menacingly.
"What am I doing?" His mentor hissed in response, "I'm trying to save his goddamn life." His voice raised a decibel or two, clearly emphasizing the fact that he was no longer willing to control his temper.
Peter's gulped rather pathetically, trying not to cower away as his brain scrambling to form a coherent sentence, "S-sir, I-I promised him that, um, I wouldn't-" Tony cut off the boy's rambling by peeling away the cheap Scream mask in one swift, fluid motion.
The face staring back at Peter sent a jolt through his heart. He didn't completely register what he was seeing at first. Every other thought left his mind as he blinked rapidly, convinced that his delirious mind was playing a cruel trick on him, but he couldn't deny how familiar the face before him looked. Peter's stomach constricted into a knot. Even though the unconscious boy's blonde hair was matted against his creased forehead and his skin was smeared with so much dried blood that it looked like he'd been dumped in dark red paint, Peter knew exactly who he was looking at.
"Of course, another goddamn kid," Mr. Stark's voice mumbled as he clicked his tongue in annoyance.
The words passed right through Peter's ear and out the other. He didn't realize that he was beginning to hyperventilate until he felt a metal hand grab him by the shoulder, shaking him out of stupor. "Come on, kid," The man said coldly, "the last thing I need now is two teenagers to babysit."
