Plot/Prompt: Peter snaps instead of Tony.
Reposts are appreciated ^^
“I am… inevitable.”
He watched silently as confusion slowly melted across Thanos’ face, his eyes narrowing and imaginary eyebrows furrowing. He slowly looked around until his eyes land on the figure. On the small boy that stands hunched over, one arm hanging limply while the other is held tightly to his chest. Slowly, he straightens up. His limp arm swings backwards as he shakily shoves the one held against his chest forward. Slowly, the mask around his head recedes to reveal a boy no older than seventeen. His eyes are narrowed and glazed over with pain, but there is so much determination in them. He clenched his jaw, gasping as lines of white crept beneath his skin. He panted, slowly oustretching his fingers as pain blossomed throughout his arm. Each knuckle gleamed a furiously bright color, shining as he slowly looked at the Titan.
His fingers brush against each other and then it all turns white. His arm bursts into agony. He knows he’s screaming, but it is muffled by the deafening burst of energy that erupts from him. He squeezes his eyes shut as everything slowly fades back. His legs tremble unsteadily beneath him as he gazes up with unfocused and vacant eyes. He can see figures slowly dissolving into ash and dust, floating away in the wind. He trembles, watching as it happens.
Suddenly, his legs feel too weak to hold him up. He staggers to the left, his body tilting. There’s a soft thump as his body hits something soft, and then there’s a voice in his ears. “Easy, Queens…” it’s muffled and distant, and he’s vaguely aware of the fact that it’s Captain America. He feels himself being eased to the ground slowly as his legs buckle and fold, unable to hold him upright anymore. His chest heaves as he wheezes, rasping whispers dying on his tongue.
His head, which is leaned against Captain America’s knees, lolls bonelessly to the left at the cry. A gleaming red figure sprints over, shoving aside Thor in the process. He spins to avoid a blue lady, stumbling and falling. His legs churn and there’s a whine as thrusters power to life, boosting him forward just a little. He slides to a stop besides him, his hand patting him down gently. “Hey, hey… hey there, underoos.”
It’s a choked, strained rasp that comes clawing up his throat painfully slow. He shifts his left arm, slowly sliding it across the ground so his knuckles brush against Tony’s knees. He can’t feel his right arm. It’s just pins and needles all over his body, but it stops at his right shoulder. Oddly enough, he’s glad that he can’t feel his right arm. He’s sure something is wrong, though, judging by the horrified expression slowly dawning on Tony’s face.
“We need medical! Now!”
Captain America’s voice was shrill and made him grimace, but he did his best to hide it. He blinked sluggishly at the figure, then back at Tony when he felt hands on his shoulders. His back ached icily as he was slowly priced away from Captain America’s knees and instead pulled towards Tony. He found himself suddenly reeling upright, rolling over onto his side and moving a hand towards the ground desperately.
“May.. ‘otta tell… okay…”
He rasped. Tony shook his head, his hands resting shakily on his shoulders. Without any more strength, he slumped against the man in iron. His chest met Tony’s with a dull thump. He let the side of his face rest against the surprisingly warm metal as his arms dangled uselessly at Tony’s sides. Hands gently patted his back as he lay there, his chest heaving. He could see other figures standing by and watching, painfully silent as they watched the two figures sit there.
“You’re gonna be okay, Peter. You’re gonna be fine… you’re gonna be tip-top shape…”
Peter. That was his name.
Peter slowly craned his head backwards, leaving his Adam Apple exposed. He stared up at wide, terrified eyes as words slowly formed on his lips. “Did I do good?” He whispered, trying vainly to rotate his body so that he didn’t have to lean his head so far back at such an awkward angle. However, his limbs remained heavy and uncooperative. So instead, his head fell back to lay against the iron as he let out a trembling breath.
“You did good, kid… you did amazing.
He did good. He blinked, letting that sentence be processed in his head. A humorless, satisfied huff of laughter left him as he let his head slowly droop downwards so that his chin met his shoulder. There was no more energy left in his bones, but he felt the urge to keep his eyes open. His eye-lids fluttered as he fought the darkness rising from the back of his vision, but it was a losing battle.
“You’re alright, kid. You can rest. You did good.”
Waking up the first time was hard.
His eyes felt dry and heavy when his eyes-lids slowly peeled upward. He was immediately blasted with a heavy smell of antiseptics, Clorox, and… axe spray? He blinked slowly, grimacing against the light that battered his eyes relentlessly. His head felt heavy and his body felt like it was floating.
Where am I?
Did we win?
Where’s mister Stark?
Am I dead?
“You with me?”
His head lolled to the left and he blinked slowly at a man sitting in a chair. His arms were folded and he was leaning forward, his eyes bright with interest. His shoulders rose and his breath hitched as he tilted his head, grunting. “Kid? You there?”
“Yeah… ‘m here…” his mouth didn’t move the way he wanted it to. His jaw felt heavy and lax. He inhaled and exhaled, letting his gaze slowly drift upwards towards a tiled ceiling. Tiled ceiling with the perfect squares. The sides are even and balanced and perfect. Symmetrical. A perfect design that danced across the ceiling in a satisfying way.
He felt the warm tug of sleep beckoning to him once more. He glanced over at Happy, who was staring down at his phone. His fingers flew across the screen, a… a smile tugging at his lips. “Can you stay with me here, kid? Just a few more minutes?” He glanced up and he frowned a little at the half-lidded look he was receiving. After a moment, a gentle smile formed back on his lips and he reached a hand forward tentatively. He squeezed his hand, nodding. “You can rest if you want to, Pete.”
Peter. That was his name.
“‘id I do good?” He whispered breathlessly, his voice coming out broken and slurred. Happy’s eyes widened a little, taken aback by the sudden question. After a moment, with half-lidded eyes dancing with fondness, the man gave a little nod. “You did good, bud.”
His eyes opened much easier, but his chest felt tight. His entire body ached as he slowly opened his eyes. It was much less bright than the last time he opened his eyes, and there were considerably more people. One more person, that was. He blinked slowly, his head slowly rotating from left to right as he eyed the two people up and down. One was on each side of his bed. He recognized the one of his left right away as Captain America, but the one on the right wasn’t as familiar to him. He recognized him because of his metal arm from the airport, but his identity was something he did not know. They didn’t seem to notice he was awake until he tried to force a few words up his throat, only to wheeze pitifully.
Both faces snapped upright. Captain America tilted his head, putting on a little smile. “Peter, right?” He murmured softly. Peter. That was his name. He nodded slowly, blinking at the idol owlishly. He gave a little laugh and nodded. “I’m assuming you know who I am. But please, call me Steve.” At that, the man with an arm snorted. “Yes sir Captain Rogers.”
Steve looked over at the man, then back at Peter. He motioned towards the man, likely a friend. “This is my friend, Bucky.” He explained. The man—Bucky, Peter’s mind supplied—folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at Steve. Peter nodded silently, trying to wait for his sore throat to stop throbbing so that he could speak. Before he could even try, Steve spoke up once again. “Are you in any pain?”
Peter shrugged. He wasn’t in terrible agony. It was more so a numb aching. He was sore all over, like the first day after practice for a sport. The type of aching from your limbs when you’re sore. Steve nodded silently at the response, glancing over at Bucky for a second before back at Peter. He opened his mouth to speak once again, but Peter cut him off right away.
Those two words were the only ones he found himself able to summon. He grimaced as his voice cracked, smiling a sheepish, lopsided grin at the two who both blinked. Steve seemed to take a moment to process the question, but he was quickly nodding his head vigorously a moment later. “You did amazing, Queens.”