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Peter let out a shaky exhale. It was dark. Quiet. Except for the groan of rubble pressing on his chest, the searing pain in his leg, and the sound of his own labored breathing, it was more devoid of sensation than his enhanced senses could compensate for. He focused on breathing in again, forcing down a groan of pain as he reached to activate his comms. Just as Peter maneuvered his hand up to tap the earpiece, something heavy crushed his arm into the ground, eliciting a grunt of surprise and agony.
“You alright, kid?” Tony’s voice came out muffled and slightly alarmed.
Deliriously, Peter considered the masses of concrete pinning his body down. It was probably less than 50 tonnes. He could probably lift it, if there wasn’t a slowly spreading pool of blood beneath him. “Relatively,” he managed.
Tony sighed in relief. “Okay. You’re doing great, kid. Where are you?”
Peter forced another breath. “I just cleared out the building on 21st street? I’m… it’s dark, Mister Stark.” Hey, that rhymes. “My leg hurts. I…I’m tired.”
“I told you to stretch,” Clint said. “Kids these days never listen.”
“Pete,” Natasha interjected, “It’s okay if you’re tired. You’re younger, you haven’t built up enough stamina. Just stay put until someone can come get you, okay?”
Peter scrunched his eyes under his mask. He could wait. He could do this. He just needed to assess his situation. The majority of the weight was on his chest. That was- that was okay, he had super-strength. His arm was probably broken. There was something lodged in his left thigh, but his right leg seemed mostly uninjured, and there was a bit of room beside it. Peter shifted his leg experimentally and gave a sharp cry of pain.
“Peter?” Tony.
“Leg,” he groaned. “Other leg. Ah-”
Clint grunted and swore over the comms as a heavy thud sounded.
“Barton, report.” That was Steve.
Nothing.
“I see him, one of the weird alligator guys knocked him out,” Natasha said. “I’ll get him. He goes unconscious all the time.”
“Mister Stark,” he tried.
“In a second, underoos, I’m keeping them away from Barton.”
A flash of guilt washed over Peter. Had he distracted Clint and gotten him hurt?
He stifled another groan, trying instinctively to wipe tears of pain from his face before realizing he still couldn’t move- duh. What an idiot. An idiot whose idiocy was going to get him killed.
Everything hurt.
Eventually, he thought he went into shock. He didn’t know how long it was before Tony tapped in again. “Hey, we’ve got the most of them. Where are you?”
Peter parted his lips, but nothing came out except for a wheeze.
“Kid?” Steve asked.
“Peter.” Tony’s voice brought him back.
“I’m,” Peter breathed weakly, “under the building.”
“Where? The whole thing’s collapsed, I don’t see where you could possibly....”
Peter unintentionally jerked in frustration, and the rubble shifted over his body, crushing him tighter, driving the dozen shards and splintered beams deeper into his skin. He screamed in pain.
Dimly, he heard voices swearing and saying his name. He wished they would be quiet. His ears hurt. There was blood trickling onto one of them.
“Sam, you’re a paramedic, you have to get down there. Wanda, can you-”
“I can lift the rubble with magic, but I can’t do it all at once-”
“Peter, talk to me-”
“‘M tired.” He realized this last voice was his own. Huh. He didn’t remember saying it.
“Stay awake, please, god, stay awake.”
He tried. For as long as he could, he tried.
He blacked out a minute later.
***
“Hey,” Tony’s voice. “You awake, tesoro?”
Tesoro. That was a new one.
Peter dredged himself out of the murky pain and opened his eyes. “M’sr Stark.” His own voice was alarmingly weak.
Tony kissed the top of his forehead, carefully avoiding a pair of butterfly stitches. “You scared us. Why didn’t you just– tell me, that you were trapped?”
“I tried.” He started to sit up and choked on a scream. Tony grabbed his shoulders, face intent with guilt. “Kid, don’t try to move. You’re hurt.”
“No, I have to move, I can’t be trapped again…” Peter made a soft noise of agony and slumped back into the bed, crying once more and still, still unable to wipe the tears away. He felt lightly calloused hands brush against his cheek. “You’re safe. Are you in pain?”
Peter nodded shakily.
“We can give you more painkillers, okay? You’re not maxed out yet.” Tony pressed something. A minute later, Peter’s muscles relaxed and he sank into the sheets, sighing in relief.
“Better,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry, tesoro, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have left you there if I’d known.” Tony hesitated for a split second before reaching out to brush the tangles out of Peter’s hair.
Peter’s thoughts were becoming hazy. He leaned into Tony’s touch, who startled slightly and smiled. “You’re too good for us, Pete. By all means, you should hold a grudge and make me beg for forgiveness.”
He thought he said, “Thanks, Tony”, but he must’ve fallen asleep just then, because he couldn’t remember afterwards for the life of him.
***
Pepper peeked in to see Tony practically beaming, a sleeping Peter Parker nestled against his hand.
“He just called me Dad,” Tony laughed, absolutely delighted.
Pepper smirked as she leaned over to brush a curl behind Peter’s ear. “It doesn’t help that he’s so cute asleep, either.”
“Yeah,” Tony sighed happily. “He is really cute.”