If you cut me (I will bleed)

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Around him the world burned.

Peter spun frantically, eyes searching for the familiar red and gold suit, the familiar whirring of repulsors-

But found deathly silence.

Thanos' armies were crumbling, turning to dust as he himself had done, not even a day ago-

Or five years.

Then he heard the sobbing.

Dread growing, he bounded towards it, stumbling, and slowing to a stop when he saw the source.

Dimly he was aware of the heroes parting before him, eyes tired, and full of grief.

He couldn't look.

It would make it real.

But a weak whisper of his name reached his ears, and he stumbled forward, falling to his knees. "Dad? Dad, you're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. Just hang on." 

He spun around, eyes darting to where the sorcerers were, finding Doctor Strange. "Please, you have to help him!"

A weak hand pulled at his arm, and he gripped Tony's hand with his own. "Dad?"

A glimmer of recognition showed in the lifeless eyes, and the corner of his mouth lifted in what could have been a smile. 

"You can't go. You can't." Peter took a shuddering breath, eyes blurry with tears. "I need you."

The dark eyes searched his face, love showing so brightly and then it was gone, like a candle being snuffed out.

A scream tore from Peter's throat, broken, and desperate, and painful.

I can't lose him





















Not again































People were rushing around, and he was being pulled into one of the glowing orange portals.

His movements were automatic.

Sit.

Eat.

Sleep.

No conscious thought.

If he let himself think, it would hurt.

So he didn't. 

















Tony would live.

They told him, with grave eyes, and hard faces, that he had lost his arm.

That he would have died if they didn't amputate.

That Pepper was on her way, after stopping to get someone named Morgan.

That there was a room prepared for him.

That he should sleep.

But he couldn't. 

Every time he closed his eyes he saw the ruined face of his father, and heard the way he'd whispered Peter's name.

And so, much like the thinking, he just didn't close his eyes. 

It was easier that way.













He was in a room, or a suite, and was alone.

Well, not really alone.

There was someone in the other room.

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