Kid, tell me what happened: The Sequel

I'll Show You (and them all)

A/N: Not one of my most fluffy fics, ends where the movie goes. One of my favorite scenes to write as it gets me out of frustrating moods and reminds me of perseverance, so, here you go. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, that scene from Spiderman: Homecoming. 
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Peter Parker swung his legs under the ledge, chocolate-colored eyes boring into the tranquil sapphire depths lapping against each other. He envied the serene ara radiating longing to be like them, feel like them. 

All he could feel was a cacophony of feelings threatening to burst through him. He was angry, Mister Stark didn’t listen to him! He was right all this time! And it had nearly cost the lives of hundreds of people which was totally not cool. 

He was angry, but he was sad at all the lives that could’ve been taken because of him. Being a hero was far harder than he thought, but he wanted to try. He had to, otherwise who’d look out for the little guy? 

Somewhere in a hidden location in eastern Europe, Steve Rogers blurted, “Preach.” 

At least, that’s what Peter thought, wondering just how the patriotic hero ever pulled off being the Captain America, ultimate protector of the little guys. And the Captain had been doing it since he was an asthmatic, unhealthy kid, and Peter had all this power, and couldn’t even do that. 

Getting back to his question, certainly not Mister Stark or the Avengers, if they still existed or whatever. They handled the big stuff. Sure the boy wanted that so badly, but he needed to stay on the ground a tad bit longer, build up honor to his name. He’d rather be someone people would think of to be an Avenger, not someone who’d they question and doubt’s status. 

Speaking of Mister Stark, a wave of anger rolled through the kicked puppy-face boy as he heard the soft thudding of iron metallic boots against skidding sandstone pebbling concrete. Peter couldn’t hide the flinch or heavy disappointment in himself as his idol furiously snarked, “Well, on another episode of Peter screws the pooch.” 

Peter bit his tongue, looking away from the hero. This was his first-ever idol, and for his idol to possibly hate him, made the whole thing three thousand times worse. The disappointment was something he’d always try to run away from, but end up drowning in anyways. This time was no different. 

Peter couldn’t run from this. Not when his longtime hero was seething at him through his suit. If he was actually here, Peter thought spitefully. 

He pretended to look past the glaring daggers emitting from metal as he slowly stood up. He approached his mentor, almost crying, “None of this would’ve happened if you would’ve just listened to me!” The fury is evident in his tone, just as clear as the disappointment that thickened the teenager’s voice as he turned away with a sigh of no response, “And if you actually cared, you’d actually be here.” 

There’s no sound at first. And then the click-clanking of metal being separated as the Tony Stark descended out of a not empty Iron Man suit. Peter’s eyes bulged as he took a few steps back, completely paralyzed in fear. 

Now, you fucked up!

Ohshitshitshitshitshitshitshit

I actually fucked up. 

Lord, I’m sorry for every sin I’ve ever committed. 

God take me back!

The teenage vigilante felt himself shrink under Tony’s seeth as the latter spoke, continuing to send daggers towards Peter, “Huh. I was the only one who believed you. Everyone told me I was wasting my time with some fourteen-year-old kid…” 

The guilt-ridden Avenger is cut off by the unconscious blurt from his protege, “Fifteen, actually.” The teenager didn’t realize what his words would’ve rocketed, but in his watering eyes, there was a huge difference. When he was fourteen, he was an innocent, immature kid with a suit of his own, fighting merely for the reason that he was recruited by Tony Stark who saw potential in him. Now, he was fifteen fighting for the same cause, a cause that evolved to strengthen him: protecting the little guy. 

Oh, if he could take it all back, he’d do in a heartbeat. 

He had never seen anyone so angry, let alone at him. Tony hissed with dripping venom, “No! This is the part where you zip it! The adult is talking!” He was all up in the teenager’s face, so close that Peter could notice glistening sweat and a protruding vein on the forty-seven-year-old’s face. 

Peter immediately shrank back, blinking back water from pooling in his chocolate-tainted irises. He remained faltered, facing his mentor but refusing to meet the elder man’s rage-filled eyes. He cast his gaze to the side, humiliation creeping into his cream-colored cheeks. He resisted the urge to apologize, fearing that by doing so, he’d only provoke the Avenger more. Something the teenage vigilante never wanted to do in the first place. 

Suddenly, he was back in elementary school being yelled at for being different. Suddenly, he was flooded with an unwelcome wave, the opposite of nostalgia. Peter looked down at Tony’s shoes as the man, on the other hand, fumed as he rocked on his heels. The disappointment was evident and heavy in his tone as he spoke quietly, “Alright, I’m going to need the suit back.” 

Nononono!

Peter’s entire world stopped spinning. He blurted, “What? No, you can’t, for how long?” Please, no! 

Tony inhaled sharply, refusing to look at his ex-protege as he answered stiffly as if the answer alone hurt him more than Peter who he noticed only then was trying not to cry, “Forever.” 

And just like that, Peter’s heart snapped, “You can’t!” 

Without Spiderman, he was nothing. He was just an average teenager who happened to be an orphan. Without Spiderman, he was just some kid from Queens who wanted to make a difference. Without Spiderman, he was just the kid that was always the victim to Flash’s taunts. Without Spiderman, without the suit that made him feel invincible, he was nothing. Nothing, but a lonely orphan who wanted to course destiny for the better. 

And that’s what he voiced as panic and desperation flooded his tone, “No, you can’t. Without this, I’m nothing.” His eyes glistened, pleading for some form of mercy. He was so close to crying when Tony’s cold eyes finally met Peter’s watering only to reply, “If you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it.” 

Peter’s face fell as he mumbled, “I don’t have any other clothes.” He sucked in a watery breath, feeling like a complete and utter failure. He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes as the man handed him a ten dollar bill to buy something to wear at a cheap shop right on the street. Peter didn’t say anything as he handed his idol change as well as the suit back. He walked away before Tony could offer him a ride. Peter thought bitterly, if he even was going to. 

The way home was long and cold, more so from the hurt and empty that filled the teenager. A part of Peter felt angry, he had messed up. And as aware and guilty he was, everyone messed up. Iron Man, not even Thor or Captain America could save everyone and never mess up. At least, unlike Tony he didn’t choose this life out of guilt, out of want. And all I got for trying to prevent harm and danger was this, he thought bitterly, all I wanted to do was save lives and bring honor to Ben’s name. 

As he slipped into his apartment, he let the tears that he was holding spill as he quietly sniffed. He couldn’t help but look forward to retiring in his bed after the long day he had, especially the mentally and emotionally draining aspect of it. He collapsed onto his bed as he sobbed himself to sleep, thinking that he was a failure. 

A/N: quarantine's got me like