Spider-Son & Iron Dad one shots

Fear

Spooktober.18

a/n: oh my goodness gracious we're over halfway done with October and it feels like it's only been two days

Fear.

It was a dark thing. It destroyed light in the most dangerous of ways, doing so in a way that was less destroying it and more so covering it up from view, such as ugly thorns that grow to cover beautifully created glass windows.

That is the poetic way to describe it, of course.

Real fear, though; the kind that keeps a person up at night to stare at the nonexistent shapes in the darkness, it is much grittier than that.

Peter knew fear like it was an old friend. The way his breath would catch, the way his blood seeming to stall it's movements in the body, it was second nature to him.

But the real truth was, Peter had never experienced fear on such a personal level until he met Quentin Beck.

This is because (as Peter has tried to explain to himself while he woke up from nightmares early in the morning) with fear, the most important weapon for defense is reality.

When Peter was scared of sharks in the public pool, his mom told him that the chances of sharks in New York are slim, especially if it were in a pool with chlorine.

When Peter used to be scared of monsters in the dark, he would turn on the night lamp beside him and then have Ben remind him that the monsters with claws and sharp teeth weren't real.

Beck, on the other hand, shifted reality. He made Peter defenseless by taking away his most important weapon, and it caused a lot of long term grief.

Peter found himself months after everything happened scared to blink and see a different room in front of him, or to find out he wasn't talking to May, but a projection of May, or that Tony wasn't really alive, that it was just another holographic trick to knock Peter down.

He was full of fear. The real kind of fear.

Fear that made your heart stop and speed up at the same time. Fear that made you stop everything just to observe, to listen, to see, to feel any inkling of possible danger.

Fear you couldn't escape from, following you into your worst dreams and nightmares. Sort of like what Peter was experiencing right now.

He had woken up, he thinks, and looked around trying to catch his breath and wipe his tears at the same time.

He was in his room, and it seemed to look exactly as it should look. There weren't any blue lines or pixels of what should be items that were out of place.

Peter swings out of bed quickly, not wanting to stay in one still spot.

The nightmare he had was a horrible ghastly thing; another lethal retelling of what went down on the ruins of the Avengers Compound. Tony died again in this one, this time uttering words of disappointment in Peter's direction. He woke up, as previously said, wiping tears from his cheeks.

He leaves his room and walks down to the kitchen for a glass of water or maybe warm milk. The latter was something Aunt May would make him if she was awake when he had his nightmares, as she'd done ever since he was a kid. Peter would replicate it on the nights he wanted to take a chance making noise with the microwave or stovetop.

He decided tonight wasn't one of these nights, and settles for a glass full of hot tap water. MJ would think it's blasphemous, drinking practically tea without the actual tea bit of it. He quirks a smile at thought of her narrowed eyes.

Peter takes a seat at the kitchen table, and stares off into space as he sips from the glass.

Across the room, there's an odd look to the wall. The only way to describe it would be a glitch, really. There are blue holographic lines where there should be a door frame.

Peter drops the glass, and everything around him copies the shatter of it across the floor.

It all shifts into cracked pieces, and Peter is falling through the darkness with the splintered fragments of his reality. His breathing speeds up, and the sound of his fast heartbeat creates a dissonance with the sound of the pieces whizzing through the air around him.

"Peter," Beck's taunting sing-songy voice layers on top of it.

Peter shuts his eyes tightly in a grimace, clamping his hands around his ears in a pitiful attempt to stop the horrible voice. He feels more comfortable with letting his ears bleed than ever hearing Beck talk again.

Beck is laughing now, ugly and loud as it resonates and rings all over the place. "Peter. Wake up."

"No," Peter grits out in a scream through clenched teeth. "Shut up!"

"C'mon, kiddo," Beck says, his voice laced with a venomous innocence.

Peter's blood ran cold at the nickname as it rolled easily off of Beck's tongue. He then slams onto the ground, and everything is dark and cold, a weak green light surrounding everything to make it the least bit visible.

"Wake up." Beck repeats the phrase, but it's cold and angry and the fake sweetness is gone.

"Screw you," Peter gets up, trying to catch his breath again. "I-I beat you."

"Then why am I still in your head?"

Peter stalls, going completely silent with lack of a response. Then he's being shaken, and when he opens his eyes, Tony is kneeling over him.

"Kid! There you go." Tony sits Peter up. "FRIDAY told me you fell off the ceiling. I don't even want to know how, I just want to know if you're okay."

Peter blinks his eyes and adjusts slowly to what just took place.

He must have had a nightmare within a nightmare, which is probably the worst nightmare anybody could have. He wasn't in their apartment, no, he was at Tony's house in the spare guest room made for him.

Peter's fear is different this time, as his mind's version of Beck's words repeat in his head like a broken record. This time, it's the kind of fear that requires a lot of thought and patience with one's self.

Peter looks up at Tony with this kind of fear plastered on his face, and all he can do it lunge forward and hug Tony tightly. "Bad dream."

Tony hugs the kid back immediately, patting his back in comfort. "That's okay. It's alright, Pete. I've got you."

Peter smiles a bit, knowing that these are the same words Tony must tell Morgan after she has a nightmare. He pulls away. "Can I make some warm milk?"

Tony blinks at him and then nods. "Sure. We'll make it together."

Peter goes down to the kitchen with Tony, with his eyes wide as they constantly scan his surroundings. But he doesn't need to, because his reality is this:

The only holograms in Tony's house are the ones he created, that aren't made to harm or trick anybody. They're meant to protect, either with knowledge of health vitals or of the extensive research of the Möbius strip.

This leads to the second reality, which is the most important.

While Peter may have seemingly

endless low-grade or medium-grade criminals to take down the next day, right now, Peter is safe.

Quentin Beck is gone. Tony is alive, and while he doesn't use the suit as often anymore, he'd do anything to protect his kids.

Peter reminds himself of these new realities, and rests easy when he goes back to sleep, knowing that fear can always be combatted if you have the right tools.

It just may take some more time to find where the right tools are.