Down Came the Rain // Irondad

Chapter One

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𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑡𝑠𝑦 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑠𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑡
𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑢𝑡

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One week, six days, fourteen hours, twenty-two minutes, and eleven seconds. That's how long Peter and Tony had been in captivity.  That's how long it'd been since they'd been grabbed while out on a mission. That's how long it'd been since they'd seen their friends or families. That's how long they'd been in hell.

Tony— he felt helpless. He had to watch as his and Peter's kidnappers tortured the kid more and more each day. He had to watch as Peter— a fifteen-year-old boy— slowly died before his eyes. He couldn't do anything— not a damn, fucking thing. The situation they were in? It was all Tony's fault. He was the one who brought Peter onto that mission, he was the one who stole those nukes, and he was the one who hid them away where they could never be found again. And now? Peter was the one being punished for it.

Tony couldn't do anything to stop it— he couldn't do anything to save Peter. Not unless he wanted a majority of the population to die a horrible death. He couldn't do that, could he? So, an innocent fifteen year old had to pay the price for it.

"How you doing, kid?" Tony asked Peter, his voice hoarse and dry— which probably had something to do with the fact that he and Pete had been given just enough water to keep them alive in the past couple weeks. They were certainly riding the line of dangerously dehydrated.

Peter glanced over at Tony, putting on that boyish smile despite the— what seemed like— thousands of cuts, gashes, and bruises on his body and bare chest. His skin was deathly pale, his brown hair was matted to his forehead, and he was skinnier than a stick. He seemed exhausted— the dark circles under his eyes gave that one away. Overall, he looked absolutely terrible— like he was on the verge of death.

The shackles around his wrists and ankles clattered as he tried to move around, though, he soon winced and gave up. "I'm alright, Mr. Stark. This- this isn't so bad. Y'know, they make being tortured look really- really painful in movies, but it- it's not nearly as bad as I- I thought it'd be."

Tony gave the boy a sad smile, unable to stop a solitary tear from slipping down his face as he stared at Peter's bloodied face, visible ribs, and beaten body. How could the kid keep up that optimism in a time like that? How could he put on that smile? How could he stay so strong? Peter was twice the man Tony would ever be and that thought brought Tony a certain pride.

"Are you- are you okay, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion and concern. Typical, Tony thought, the kid was on the verge of death and he was worried about someone else.

"I'm fine, Pete," Tony smiled sadly, wishing he could just engulf the boy in a tight embrace and tell him everything would be alright. But he couldn't even do that... not when they were tied up like fucking dogs.

"Up, boy!" Peter and Tony turned to see one of their kidnappers barging in the room, angry and loud, as always. He unlocked Peter's shackles and yanked him from the ground.

"Take me instead!" Tony screamed as the man dragged Peter from the room, the boy crying and wincing the whole way. "Please! Take me instead!" Tony begged, yelling so loud his voice cracked. "Take me instead!"

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After hours of listening to Peter's heart-wrenching screams, Tony watched in horror as the men finally threw the boy back into the dark, cold room he and Peter were kept in. They didn't even bother to lock his limp body back up against the wall.

"Pete- Peter!" Tony yelled, terrified that the men had finally finished the boy off. But, alas, he still had some life in him as he slowly crawled his way towards Tony.

As soon as Peter was within arms reach, Tony grabbed the kid and pulled him onto his lap, trapping him in a tight embrace with his one free arm. The boy latched onto the older man, his body trembling as soft cries escaped his mouth.

Tony did his best to avoid the many, many gashes on Peter's bare chest and back as he did his best to comfort the boy. "Ssh," he spoke gently as he cradled Peter like a small child, "it's gonna be fine, Pete. You're fine gonna be fine, okay? I promise. You're getting out of here. You're gonna get through this."

"It- it hurts, Mr. Stark," Peter gasped, burying his head further into Tony's chest. His entire body shook violently, blood dripping onto the floor, as he sobbed uncontrollably. "I'm not strong enough. I- I'm so- I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark. I can't- I can't fight any longer..."

Peter's words sent chills down Tony's spine. He pulled away from the boy, using his free hand to place a firm grip on the kid's shoulder. "Look at me, Pete." As soon as those sad brown eyes locked with Tony's, he went on. "You're going to survive this. I don't care if it's the hardest thing you've ever had to do- you... will... survive. Do you understand me?"

Peter nodded solemnly, his lip quivering as he took in soft, shallow breaths. As soon as Tony was positive the kid wasn't going to die on him, he allowed the shaggy, brown-haired kid to lay back down, using the older man's lap as a pillow. His soft cries continued on for what seemed like forever before he finally wore himself out...

Perhaps Tony was being selfish. Perhaps the boy would've been better off dead at that point. Perhaps it would've been a mercy to let Peter die. But, Tony didn't care. He didn't give a solitary fuck if he was being selfish. He wasn't going to lose the best thing to ever happen to him— he simply couldn't...