Prompt: An injured Peter goes to the tower to ask Mr. Stark for help only to find the other Avengers

Mr. Stark had lots of rules, and Peter liked to think that he'd finally memorized them all. He had to eat enough to keep from passing out, which meant carrying lots of granola bars. He had to abstain from messing with Karen's protocols that were 'designed to keep you safe, Peter, for the love of god!' He had to keep his grades up and actually stay in school the full 7 hours and attend all of his classes or risk a lecture about 'not being able to get into MIT' to which he'd typically respond 'who says I want to go to MIT anyway' which led to 'bite your tongue, Parker.'

This conversation was usually followed by a cheeky grin from Peter after which Mr. Stark's face would soften from his teasing glare to a real smile, and he'd reach out and pat Peter on the shoulder or ruffle his hair, something like affection in his eyes.

There were rules for the lab and rules for the kitchen (Peter was no longer allowed to use the waffle iron unsupervised.). But the most important rules, according to Mr. Stark, were that he always had to tell Tony if he was seriously injured and to always call for help if he needed it. In Peter's opinion, these were somewhat subjective. Who could say was 'seriously injured' meant? And when did he really 'need' help?

He was sure Mr. Stark had a pretty sure definition of both of these things, but Peter certainly wasn't about to ask for it. Instead, he tried to be careful. Tried to keep bruising and other injuries to a minimum. And overall, it worked out pretty well. Mr. Stark kept tabs on him through Karen, but he tried his best not to give the man a reason to worry. Or to call his aunt, which Mr. Stark had proven willing to do in the past when he'd been shot and had decided to try and dig the bullet out himself. In his bathroom. Which was where May had found him.

He'd promised never to do it again.

Most of what Peter found himself dealing with as Spiderman wasn't that big of a deal. A few attempted muggings, lost pets, grand theft bicycles…he was looking out for the little guy, after all. But then, through a series of events he would later have difficulty remembering thanks to the concussion, he found himself in a shady part of town by the docks, crouching in the shadows and looking for a man named Tombstone.

He'd gotten the basic rundown. Mutant (or enhanced…whatever, the terminology wasn't particularly important to Peter) drug dealer and possible hitman. History of instability and possible murder. More than willing to throw people out of windows. Since being released from prison, he'd been laying low, but Peter had heard his name mentioned more than once on the streets, and so he'd decided to check it out. Do some quiet recon and come back later, maybe with Iron Man. And the other Avengers. But then he'd knocked over a can filled with metal tools, sending it clattering to the ground.

Turns out the guy had a sledgehammer and he wasn't afraid to use it.

At first, Peter had been holding his own. But then Tombstone had gotten in a lucky hit. Or…maybe two. And in the end, Peter had managed to web one of his legs to the ground for long enough to swing away. Okay, limp away. He was about eighty percent sure his leg was broken, but he couldn't focus for long enough to figure it out.

No…scratch that, he thought as he gripped a web for dear life, every movement again on his left leg. He knew. He knew for sure that it was broken. Gritting his teeth and fighting back tears, he tried to figure out what to do. He needed help, that much was certain as he switched arms and had to bite back a scream.

Mr. Stark. He needed Mr. Stark.

"Karen?" He asked, in too much pain to care that his voice was choked with tears. "Call…call Mr. Stark….please." He practically begged

"I…sor…damage…".

"Karen?"

The only thing he could hear was a soft static and he could have cried…he did cry. But he needed help and his head was throbbing and there was something sticky in his hair but his mask was in the way so he wasn't sure what. Fighting back a sob, then giving up and letting it out anyway, he switched arms again and clenched his jaw as hard as he could to keep the scream in.

He needed Mr. Stark.

He was miles from the tower. As he swung in that direction, it seemed that the pain in his leg only got worse…but he had to get to Mr. Stark. He had to get help. It was a rule. Call for help if you need it. But he couldn't call for help, so he would have to go find the help himself.

His arms were giving out by the time the tower was in sight, the static in his ears never stopping. No… not static. More like roaring. There was a roaring in his ears and his leg hurt so bad that he could think of nothing else, but he had to get to Mr. Stark. He needed help. It was a rule…he has to ask for help when he needed it and suddenly that idea didn't seem quite so dumb as it had before.

His vision was going dark as he shot another web, trying to land only on his left leg and hop when he crumpled on the landing pad of the tower. He needed to get out of his suit…if people saw him it would be bad. It was a secret. That was the only thing he could really remember….his leg hurt and his suit was a secret and his whole body ached and…and he needed to get the suit off.

Peter pressed the spider on his chest and let the suit fall away, biting back a scream when it got caught on his leg. Somehow, he managed to pull himself upright, sticking his hand to something…maybe the railing, and he yanked the mask off, leaving both in a heap as he half-hopped his way forward. It hurt. Every movement hurt. In jeans and a t-shirt, he hobbled forward, almost making it to the door to the tower's main floor when everything went black.

The world came back into sharp focus abruptly, and he was yanked from the sweet darkness where nothing hurt when someone shifted him. He didn't recognize the scream that was ripped from his throat, but he did recognize the person kneeling over him.

"Peter? Kid? Are you with me? Can you hear me?"

"Rho…Rhodey…" He sobbed, not daring to open his eyes. Not when his leg hurt this much and with the world already spinning so fast. He thought that if he saw how quickly everything was spinning, he might throw up. Hell, he might throw up anyway, he thought, as a hand that must have belonged to James Rhodes touched his shoulder.

"Yeah, kiddo. Right here. You're okay."

"Who the hell is that?"

"Is that a kid?"

"Rhodey, what's going on?"

Other voices were there…and they were too loud. So loud. He couldn't stand it! Throwing his head back and wincing at the feel of the concrete against his tender skull, he tried to focus on the hand on his shoulder and the tears falling down his cheeks…anything but the loud voices accosting him. "Rhodey…hurts…Tony?" He asked, hoping that made some sense, barely aware of his own words.

"I know, Pete. I know it hurts. Just a minute. Just…just hold on."

A hand touched his leg again and this time the scream was louder, his hands flying up to shove whoever had touched him away.

"Back off!" Rhodey snapped, and Peter wondered if they were in trouble…if there were bad guys around. Were there bad guys? Where were they? How had Peter gotten here?

"Is he hurt?" That voice was familiar. They all were, come to think of it, but this one…this one was more familiar. Did he know them? Or…or were they from his school?

"His damn leg's broken! Now stop touching him!"

"Here," someone else urged, and a finger tapped his cheek. "You said his name's Peter?" There was a hum or something…and then the man was talking again. "Peter? Open your eyes. Come on, buddy."

At the prompting, Peter did, then cried out when a light was shone in them. But a hand on his face tapped a pattern he couldn't discern on his cheek once more.

"Peter? Stay awake. You have to stay awake, okay? Can you tell me what happened?"

That man…he was so familiar…and then it clicked. Falcon. No…no, that was his made-up name. Sam. Sam Wilson. "You…didn't think you…you would be…'cause you…" Peter slurred, trying and failing to get to a point. He was so tired. But the finger on his cheek was insistent.

"Nope. No sleeping. We need pain meds for him before we move him. Who is he, Jim?"

"Peter. He's…he's Tony's…"

"Tony?" Peter asked then, clinging to that name. He needed Tony. Tony had to come and help him because he'd done his best to follow the rules and he needed help! "Tony…need…Tony!" He begged.

"Tony's coming, Pete. Steve, get me some of your pain meds. Now!"

"But…if he's…."

"He's enhanced, just go!" Rhodey's hand squeezed Peter's shoulder. "Pete? You with us?"

"Rho…where's…where's…"

"Tony's on his way. Hey….Pete!"

Peter blinked. Had he fallen asleep? Opening his eyes once more, he found Rhodey and Sam Wilson kneeling over him…but no Mr. Stark. Or…or had he said Tony before? What did he call him?

"Peter? What happened?" Rhodey asked, sounding like he'd asked before, his voice tinged with frustration and something desperate. Afraid.

What had happened? Peter searched his fuzzy memory, barely coming up with more than a few blurry details. But he did his best, shivering on the concrete. He wasn't cold…was he? Either way, he couldn't stop shaking, and then something was being draped over him. A woman was there…Natasha Romanoff. Black Widow, his brain supplied.

"Peter? Peter!" The hand on his shoulder shook him and Peter tried to stop the cry, the movement shaking his whole body along with his leg which felt like it was on fire. Surely nothing could hurt that badly if it wasn't on fire!

"Rhodey?" He asked, begging…begging for it to stop hurting…for Rhodey to help…for Mr. Stark to come and help him.

"Buddy, you have to stay awake. Just for a little longer."

"Hurts…please…please…"

"I know. I know it hurts. I'm right here, kiddo." A hand slipped into his and he didn't know if it was Rhodey's or Sam's but either way, he did his best not to squeeze too hard. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I…I was… " He started, panting through the pain that ebbed and flowed, startling him with how unbearable it could be one minute before receding enough for him to breathe through it the next. "Tombstone." He managed.

"Tombstone? The drug dealer?" Natasha chimed in for the first time, moving closer so that he could see her over Rhodey's shoulder. Something cool touched his head then, and he moved his eyes just enough to see another woman beside him, this one with brilliant red hair. Witch. Red…red witch? Something…his brain was mush and everything hurt and Natasha had asked him a question.

"He..he had…sledgehammer…" Peter gritted his teeth when the pain rose once more and there was a sharp intake of breath beside him before he suddenly remembered that someone was holding his hand. He let go, forcing his fingers to release before clenching his hand into a fist and clenching his jaw so tightly that he thought his teeth might break.

"Here!" The voice from his school cried.

"Took you long enough." That was Rhodey, and the next thing he knew, something was poking him in the arm….and then cool liquid raced through his body, making every muscle relax at once. "There you go, Pete…you're okay. Is that better?"

"Uh-huh." He managed, tongue heavy and useless.

"Steve, can you pick him up? Carefully…let's get him down to the medbay."

The world was dark, but he could feel arms lifting him, and he thought that it should hurt his leg more but honestly, it was just a dull ache…he could live with a dull ache. Right? He could survive that. He thought he heard more voices through the darkness. They were hard to make out though, as if he was underwater.

"…Tony's kid?" He wasn't sure if that was the full sentence but it was said with an air of disbelief.

"He's…complicated…Tony will…"

He sank for a long time…seemed to swim in the darkness…to float. He didn't fight it. Didn't want to. The darkness was warm and comfortable and safe. But then there was another voice that pulled him back to the surface.

"What the hell happened to him?"

"He said it was Tombstone," Rhodey answered.

"Tombstone? What the fuck was he doing trying to take on Tombstone?" Mr. Stark demanded, his voice frantic. Why was Mr. Stark upset?

"I found his suit on the balcony. The AI was damaged but it looks like, from the footage I was able to get, he was just staking out the place. But then he got caught and…Tombstone went after him with a couple of other guys. He barely got away."

"I'm going to kill him." There was a heavy silence and then Mr. Stark exploded. "Tombstone! Not Peter! Don't give me that look."

"He came here looking for you. The audio from his suit was still intact, even after the sledgehammer to the head that could have killed him. He kept muttering your name…asking Karen to call you. Kept saying something about the rules…asking you to help him."

There was another heavy silence but Peter couldn't stand it. He needed to know if this was real or if it was a dream. "Mr. Stark?" He asked, the words struggling to escape his heavy mouth.

"Hey, Pete." The man's voice changed, and then a hand was holding his. "I'm right here, buddy."

He forced his eyes open, and there he was…Mr. Stark. The man placed a hand on his cheek, a thumb tracing under his eye…the skin was tender, so Peter figured he must have a bruise there. Actually…his whole body was tender. "You said…you said that if I got hurt I had to…to get help…" He murmured.

"I know. You did great, Pete." Mr. Stark's thumb rubbed over the back of his knuckles. "I'm going to fix your suit, okay? Make sure you can always call for help if you need it."

"What…what about Tombstone? He's…drug dealer he…"

"I know all about him. Don't worry. Steve and Bucky are off to take care of it."

"Bucky…thought he was…Winter…"

"Don't worry about that right now, Pete. You just rest, okay?"

Peter blinked at him, trying to figure out what that meant before it clicked. Rest. He could do that. "Got help…" He reminded the man, not wanting a lecture later. "Couldn't call…so…"

"I know, buddy. I know. You did good." He said again, squeezing his hand. "How's your leg feel?"

"Can't…feel it…"

"Good," Mr. Stark said with a chuckle. "That's good. We'll talk when you wake up again, okay?"

"Mkay…thanks…Mr. Stark. For coming…"

"Any time, kiddo."

Thank you for reading!