Peter and Tony One Shots

Fan Behaviour - Part 2/2

***Peter's POV***
Ok, so when I had said that my family would be saving me soon, I honestly thought they would be. Except it had been over three hours and there was no sign of them. My 'kidnapper' was sat in front of me, sketching something in a notepad, and occasionally glancing up at me. I was tied to the ceiling, with my hands above my head, to make the experience even more uncomfortable.
"So," I began to make conversation. "What's your name? What do you want with me?"
"All that will be explained, Pete." He said with a grin.
"How do you know my nickname is 'Pete'?"
"I know a lot more about you than you'd think." The kidnapper seemed to revel in his knowledge and, in my best efforts to piss him off, I snorted.
     "Something funny?" He snapped, slamming his notepad closed and glaring at me.
"No. I just doubt that you know everything about me."
"Your name is Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark. You are 17 years old. Your best friend is Ned Leeds and your girlfriend is Michelle Jones. Your family adopted you when you were eight months old. Would you like me to go on?" He dared me to ask but I just lowered my head.
     Maybe this situation was more serious than I previously thought. Maybe he wasn't some psycho who wanted the fame of kidnapping an avenger? Maybe he wanted something slightly more sinister? One thing was for certain, I wasn't getting out of this situation easily.
     "Ok, Peter, time for you to do something for me now." The man got out of his seat and crossed the room until he was directly in front of me. "We're going to play a little game that I like to call: ring ring."
"Ring ring?" I echoed back, already bordering on the point of physical exhaustion from being strung up for so long.
"You're going to call your father. Every time he doesn't pick up, I'm going to hurt you. Do you understand?"
"But, he's at work. He's probably busy." I stammered, knowing that this was not going to end well.
"That's not really my concern."
     The man reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. "I'm going to dial his number and you're going to speak. I want you to tell him that you're sorry. I want you to tell him that the pressure of being an avenger was too much for you and that you can't handle it. I then want you to tell him not to contact you ever again. If you don't follow the script, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"
"What do you think you're going to achieve by doing this?" I spat, panic seething through my voice.
"Oh, Peter, don't you understand? With you out of the way, I can finally play the role I was born to. I can finally join my rightful place on the team."
"You're crazy." I muttered, trying to stop the tears from forming in my eyes. "Pull it together, Peter. Think." I whispered to myself.
     Without wasting any more time, the man called my dad. Answerphone. Shit.

***Tony's POV***
Admittedly, I should have been working. Instead, I was in the middle of a very interesting game of poker with Capsicle and Legolas. I suspected that Cap was bluffing and Clint was about to fold and I could feel the victory within my grasp.
"Sir, you've had nine missed calls from Peter." Jarvis's voice over the intercom rang out. Something must be wrong, he should be at school. "Ok, I'll call him back in two seconds."
     The tension in the room was palpable. Cap's blue eyes pierced into mine, almost as if he was trying to reach into my brain and extract my cards. "Sir, ten calls."
"For God's sake." I mumbled, "sorry, boys, duty calls. We will resume imminently." As I pulled my phone out of my pocket, it began to ring for the eleventh time.
     "Come on, Kiddo, this better be a good excuse." I hoped that he could hear my eye roll through the phone.
"Dad?" Immediately sensing something was wrong, I got to my feet.
"Peter, where are you?"
"Dad, I'm so sorry." He was crying and coughing.
"Peter, where are you?" I asked again, my breathing growing quicker each time he deflected my questions.
"I'm sorry, dad, I can't do it anymore."
"Can't do what, kid? Peter?"
"Any of it. I'm a rubbish avenger. I can't deal with the pressure. You've been too good to me for too long."
"What on earth are you even saying? Can you hear yourself? Peter, where are you? We can talk about this." Something was wrong. Someone was forcing him to say this. It wasn't my kid.
"Don't contact me, dad. I'm so sorry. I-"
"Peter. I'm not messing around. I've got Jarvis tracking your location. I'm going to come and get you, just hold on."
"No, dad. Don't contact me. Just leave me alone."
"We're leaving the apartment now. Wait where you are." I signalled to the rest of the team and, within a few seconds, they were ready to follow my lead.
     All of a sudden, Peter screamed down the phone, "Dad, hurry! He's going to kill me!" And, with that, the call disconnected and my heart dropped.

***Peter's POV***
"Naughty, naughty, naughty. What did I say about sticking to the script?" Blood was pouring from my nose, broken most definitely. I had a bruise swelling my right eye shut and a blossoming concussion as a result of my dad's apparently terrible ability to answer his phone. "Now, this might hurt a little." The man punched my stomach and, without my hands to shield myself, I absorbed the full impact.
     Yelling out in pain, I bit my lip. "You're going to regret that." I spat, blood and saliva dribbling out of my mouth. I had no idea how much time had passed since the phone call, but I knew my time was nearly up. "I'm sorry that you forced me to do this, Peter." The man said, picking up a pistol from the corner of the room. "My aim's a little wonky, so I might shoot both your legs first." He said with a laugh.
     Bracing myself, I tensed. A shot rang out, followed by a blinding pain in my left leg. "Whoops! I'll try again!"
     Just as I heard him reload, the door to the basement was kicked down. My dad, uncle Steve, uncle Bucky, Uncle Clint, Aunty Nat and Uncle Bruce all ran in. I cried out in a mixture of relief and pain. Although my eye sight was blurred from the blood, I could see my dad launch himself at my kidnapper, with uncle Bucky and Uncle Steve joining him. Uncle Clint fired an arrow which severed the chain from the ceiling, and I slumped to the floor. Uncle Bruce and Aunty Nat picked me up, one under each of my arms. Yelping in pain as they carried me out, I felt a small morsel of comfort as they laid me down on the kidnapper's sofa whilst my other family members continued to make the man suffer in the basement.
     "What hurts, Pete?" Aunty Nat asked, concern laced in her voice.
"He shot me in my leg. My stomach hurts really bad and my head." I whispered, feeling myself drifting in and out of consciousness.
"I'm going to lift up your shirt, Pete, ok? Tell me if it hurts." Uncle Bruce commanded and I nodded, biting my lip to stop from screaming. The pain was blinding.
     "Woah, Bruce! Why is his stomach purple and blue? It's all over!"
"Shit! Shit! Shit, shit, shit." Bruce muttered, taking off his jacket and applying pressure to my leg.
"Stop, please, stop. I can't. I can't." I moaned, the pain was too much.
"Peter, I know it hurts. We need to get you to a hospital. You're bleeding internally massively, I reckon it's a punctured lung. There's going to be blood and air filling up your chest cavity as we speak, so try not to talk."
     "Tony! We need to get Pete to a hospital! It's critical!" Bruce shouted and, in an instant, my dad was by my side. "Peter, oh my god, kid. I'm so fucking sorry, this is all my fault."
"Dad, it really hurts." I whimpered, chewing my lips so hard that they bled.
"I know, I know. I wish I could take it away and make it better. Just hold on." He stroked my clammy forehead as I groaned.
"Bruce!" I gasped suddenly. "I can't - I can't - I - breathe." I stammered.
"Why can't he breathe? Bruce, fucking do something! Peter! Hey, kid, look at me! Look at me!" Gasping and retching for air, I closed my eyes, praying for it to all be over. I felt my subconscious dragging me under and I did not resist.

***Peter's POV continued***
Waking with a start, my first thought was pain. I had an IV drip attached to one arm that I immediately began to pull off. I had to see if everyone was alright. "Peter, stop, it's ok. Hey, relax!" My dad's soothing voice lulled my anxieties instantly. "Dad? I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it!" I began, tears filling my eyes. "You're sorry? I'm the one who should be sorry. I should have noticed something was wrong, I should have picked up my goddamn phone."
"Dad, don't, you didn't know." I fired back.
He ran a hand through his hair absent-mindedly.
     "Ok, let's make a promise." I said, "i promise not to blame myself, if you promise not to blame yourself. Deal?"
"Fine. Sounds like a deal to me. Get some rest, Kiddo. As soon as you've got your strength up I can finally get back to that game of poker with your uncles. I was winning, you know?" He said with a wink and I smiled, leaning back into my pillow. Everything would go back to normal at last.