Archive of Our Own ^beta

Day 4: impaling

Okay, he may not have been as tech savvy as Tony, but a little sleuthing and that moron kid, Flash’s constant need for online validation had brought Happy directly to Peter’s friends and classmates. Step one, done.

Step two, it seemed, was going to need some work. The whole ‘Get them all to safety’ would have been a whole lot easier if Beck’s drones hadn’t blown up the freakin’ jet.

Happy swore, if he ever got his hands on that psycho...

Brushing thoughts of murder and revenge from his mind, Happy turned to the kids, looking wide-eyed at the burning metal shell. “New plan!” He bellowed, “Into the tower!

And as he corralled the kids toward their new destination, Happy growled into his comm link, “New plan, Peter—Go get Beck.”

* * * * * *

The mad dash to the tower was treacherous. Bullets were flying and lasers were searing through the air. Chips and chunks of concrete, brick, and mortar bit at their skin, yeah, but they were still moving and that was all that mattered.

They neared the entrance, “Go into the Crown Jewels vault!” Happy directed as they ran. “The walls are twelve feet thick!” Their goal was in sight and the path was clear. They just needed to find...

There!

The doors opened with ease, the kids barrelling through, with Happy right on their heels. He stopped only to hurry the doors closing, but it wasn’t enough and one lone drone made its way in behind them.

Damn it!

“Take cover!” Happy ordered and the kids were off and out of sight in seconds. A couple of them had taken refuge behind display cases, the rest cowering behind Happy in a small alcove.

The drone idled, then started to drift.

Was it hunting?

Happy was guessing at this point, but he needed a plan, fast. He figured Beck was too busy to be flying this thing, especially if Peter was dealing with him, so it probably had motion sensors. Maybe if he could cover the drone with his suit jacket, it would... Flash picked that moment to thrust his arm out in front of Happy, his stupid phone recording like any of that was urgent right this minute. The idiot! Happy shoved his arm back and prepared to...

What? No.

Waving his arms like a crazy man, Happy tried to draw the girl’s attention, but she was either intentionally ignoring him or so single-minded in her determination that she didn’t notice. The mace she was trying to finagle from the grip of the knight display was too heavy and Happy knew she wouldn’t be able to lift it—

She gave it one last tug, freed it from its confines—and promptly dropped it to the ground.

The accompanying clang triggered something in the drone, the whine of lasers powering up filled the room.

Happy stepped out from his alcove, ready to wrangle the drone, for better or for worse. These kids needed to get to the vault, and fast. His arms extended to grab it when the clatter of falling armour across from her caught the drone’s attention. The hail of bullets was deafening, but the girl was on it in its distraction and had bludgeoned it before Happy could say,”Go!”

The now tell-tale sound of another drone came from around a corner.

Shit! There were more!

“Go-go-go!” He pulled the few kids from the alcove out, shoving them in the direction they needed to head, then helped Mace-girl and her friend as she dropped the weapon on the floor and they both scrambled over the debris. “Let’s go!”

And they did.

They were almost to the door when the second drone starting firing. With reflex honed by years of protecting a loudmouth like Tony Stark, Happy dragged the girls in front of him, shielding them with his body. They’d made it this far. There was no way Happy was letting one of these kids get hit now.

They ran the last few feet... the girls were in.

Happy just needed to shut that damned door.

He turned to grip the edge of the door. It was heavy enough that he’d need to pull it with his whole weight.

The drone, however, wouldn’t let up.

Every attempt to position his hands would result in a burst of gunfire intent on blasting his fingers off. If only he could use something to distract it!

A quick glance to his right found another suit of armour, this one wielding a shield. Without a thought, he grabbed it and flung it forward, anticipating the imminent destruction of their second drone.

Yeah.

That didn’t work.

With a muttered, “How does Cap do that?” he took advantage of it at least being distracted and heaved the door shut. He took barely a second to sigh in relief. They’d made it.

He just needed to assess the situation with the kids and figure out a plan. With a sense of determination, Happy turned away from the door—

And grunted in shock and pain. “What the...”

His eyes went immediately to the bejewelled hilt of some sort of dagger sticking out of his belly.

The next thing he noticed was Flash—of course.

The kid was pale as a ghost, which would have concerned him, save for the fact that the kid’s hand was still hovering around the handle of the dagger.

Happy took a shaky breath. They really didn’t have time for this. “Kid,” he ground out. “You just stabbed me.”

Flash pulled his hand away, like a kid caught reaching for a hot stove. His mouth moved for a second before any sound actually came out. “Actually, sir, you impaled yourself. You see, if I had thrust forward, you’d be correct but it was your momentum that—“

Mace-girl came up and cuffed Flash in the back of the head. “You idiot! When did you even pick up a knife?!”

He stared at her, “It’s actually a dagger, MJ.”

Mace-girl, MJ glared at him. “You know what? Stop. I don’t care anymore. Don’t talk. Don’t anything. I don’t want to hear you. Go sit in the corner so I can plot my revenge later!”

Flash slinked off, muttering something about how it wasn’t his fault.

Happy snickered, suppressed a groan, and took in the rest of the room. The kids were all standing, watching, and waiting to see what was going to happen next. He needed to get them through this, one way or another.

“Okay, guys, just like before,” he called out, “Everyone find a spot and hide, quick!”

They all moved quickly, save for MJ who seemed to be waiting for something.

“C’mon kid, you’ve got to find somewhere.” He looked around the vault. Display cases and columns littered the room. “There’s plenty to choose from.”

“But what about you?” She asked quietly. “You needed to be putting pressure on that, like 2 minutes ago,” she stated matter-of-factly.

He smiled at her concern. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about, like getting you and your friends outta here. Let’s get through this and then we’ll worry about me, got it?”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but she had to know that Happy wasn’t wrong. She eventually nodded.

That taken care of, Happy called out, “Okay, everyone just stay calm now. We just need to hold tight. Spider-Man will take care of this and then we’ll get you back to your teachers. Got it?”

He took the silence as an affirmative.

Happy’s comm link flared to life, “Happy? Happy, are you alive?”

He’d never been so happy to hear the Spider-brat, but then the sound of crackling caught his attention.

Happy turned to face the door. Damn it.

“I bought us some time,” he replied to Peter, taking in the pace the drone’s laser beam was melting through the door, “But not much.”

* * * * * *

This was the part of the job that Happy had always hated; the waiting. Time was moving, as made apparent by the progress the drone was making on the door, but it felt more like watching someone pour molasses on a cold day rather than anticipating their imminent death.

But that might have been the blood loss talking.

He stood as sentry (or maybe it was a subtle side lean against the lectern) at the center of the room, observing and hoping (and maybe praying, too) that he wouldn’t have to deal with what would happen if the drone managed to make it through.

The kids were staying where they had planted, which was good. They didn’t need to watch the slow and steady melt of metal.

And they didn’t have to see the slowly growing patch of red dripping down the front of Happy’s always crisp white shirt. Yes, he’d left the knife in—sorry, dagger. He wasn’t an idiot, but it still bled, and badly enough that he was growing worried... and grateful that he’d worn the black suit.

A voice chimed out from behind a display of broaches, “I don’t know about any of you guys, but I think I’m gonna pass on the next field trip. Who’s with me?”

Happy shifted his weight so he could scan the room, reconfirming everyone’s location.

A small chorus of me’s chimed from different spots in the room. There was one emphatic ‘amen to that!’ that Happy had to chuckle at, and then there was Ned. He’d been so quiet to this point, that Happy had almost forgotten he was there, but they made eye contact then, as Ned peeked out from his corner.

Happy nodded a quick greeting, ignoring the fact that the motion made him more than a little dizzy. Any sort of real acknowledgement of the boy would definitely bring up questions neither of them could answer.

“Sir,” He sounded so hesitant, not like the Ned he’d met those times with Peter. “Um, can we help you at all?”

Happy blinked slow, he was getting tired, and help did sound nice... but, no. He had to protect the kids. That was his job now. “It’s okay, kid. Thanks, though. Spider-Man will get that bastard soon and we’ll all get outta here.”

“No, sir, I mean...” Ned stopped talking and looked down at Happy’s feet and then up at him again.

Oh.

The small puddle of blood pooling at Happy’s feet wasn’t too bad, he decided. He swiped at the small banner hanging from the front of the lectern and dropped it to the floor, effectively hiding any cause for concern. “Don’t worry kid, I got this,” he promised and moved to watch the door again.

If he closed his eyes to quell nausea first, no one needed to know.

The drone had an inch of metal left to go through, if that.

Happy wondered if Peter was okay—Happy hoped Peter was okay.

And then, amazingly, the drone stopped.

The quiet that fell over the room caught the attention of everyone, and they all stuck their heads out to investigate. Flash was the first to call it out. “Does that mean it’s over?”

“I don’t know?” Happy answered. Truthfully, he was starting to feel kind of fuzzy, but they couldn’t know that. “Hang on.” He straightened to walk over to the door when Ned rushed past him.

“I’ll check!” He offered,even as he cautiously, yet firmly pushed the door open to investigate. Ned didn’t say anything at first, just shouldered it open a bit more. And then, “Uh, guys.” He spun around to look at everyone, “The drones are down! Spider-Man did it!”

High-fives were shared by all, one of the girls was weeping, and then MJ’s friend piped up, “Hey! Mr. Harrington is at the police barricade on the south side of the grounds.” She waved her phone up in the air, looking at everyone, “Let’s go!”

And like a whirlwind, they flew out the doors with a rush of, “Thanks for saving our lives,” and “Feel better soon!”

Happy couldn’t blame them. He wished he could leave, too.

Flash barely mumbled an, “I’m sorry you were impaled,” before he rushed off into the cloudy London day.

Happy thought they were all gone. The room was so quiet and with his charges now safe and away, he could take of the now more urgent matter at hand.

He grunted as he slowly, clumsily lowered himself to the floor, back to the lectern that had kept him upright for what must’ve been forever. He needed... he needed... a phone. He could call... um... who could he call? He closed his eyes and tried to focus but it was getting hard with the adrenaline wearing off and all.

“Mr. Happy?”

Ned?

He opened his eyes and saw both Ned and MJ crouching before him. Ned spoke, “Mr. Happy, can I help now?”

Happy shook his head to decline “You’re teacher’s... teacher’s waiting,” he gasped in pain.

Ned and MJ shared a look and without a word, MJ was off and running.

Good, he thought, at least someone was listening to him.

Happy slumped to the side, brightening the pain in his belly even more.

“Hold on, Mr. Happy. We’ve got you,” he promised.

Without a word, Ned helped Happy stretch out on the floor. The stone floor was cold and as such, Happy couldn’t contain the shivers that overwhelmed him.

“Here you go, Mr. Happy, sir. This might help.” Ned placed his sweater across his chest. “I think you’re going into shock so... yeah.”

Happy chuckled. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are, Mr. Happy.”

Happy felt Ned messing with something. He heard his shirt being ripped, and felt chilled air against his stomach.

“Mr. Happy, did you know that Peter and I took a really hardcore first-aid course last summer?” He paused, “Well, I guess five summers ago?”

Happy shook his head no in response.

“Yeah, we figured it would be helpful with all those cutbacks with the paramedics and all. Every second counts, right?”

“Wha?”

“I’m just explaining so that you’ll know that I’m pretty sure I’m helping when I do this.”

Happy’s vision whited out in that moment. He knew pain. Hell, he and pain were buddies... but this, today—too much. He succumbed to the blackness.

* * * * * *

It couldn’t have been too long before Happy came back to himself.

He was still on the floor.

And someone was calling his name?

“—ppy! Hey, Happy, c’mon man. Mr. Stark will kill me if something happens to you!” A gloved hand was patting his cheek.

He opened his eyes, but only a little bit. “Wha’s goin’on?” He slurred.

A whole bunch of Peter was suddenly in his face, “Happy, are you really awake?”

He scowled, “Yeah, m’wake.”

“Thank goodness! The webbing looks like its slowing down the bleeding. We’re just working on getting you a ride outta here now.” Peter looked behind him and called out clarification, “Yeah, it should be under ‘D,’ Ned.”

“Why ?” Ned inquired.

Peter laughed, “’D’ is for dickhead.”

Ned laughed and then called out, “Found it!”

“Good, now tell Fury he has three minutes to get a medical evac here or else!”

Those had apparently been the magic words for Happy, “Evac!” He was fighting to sit up. “Di’ Beck hur’ you?” Happy needed to make sure that Peter was okay. They’d just gotten him back and he couldn’t lose him again.

“Hey, hey, Happy, calm down. I’m fine. I promise.” Peter soothed. “Stay down. Help’s coming, okay?”

Peter lied about injuries all the time. He had to be. “But Beck?” Happy ground out. He could see the cuts and bruises on Peter’s face.

“He’s gone.” Is all Peter said.

“Then wha’s wrong?”

Peter looked up at the ceiling, his eyes glassy as he laughed, “Geez, Happy! After my high school bully stabbed you, you decided to stand up and bleed out for approximately 7 minutes like the total badass that you are when you should have been receiving first aid. If Ned and MJ hadn't been here... I just don't even!? Now please, ask me what’s wrong.”

Happy thought about it. “Bu...” He needed Peter to understand, “Pud’l sm’l.”

Having no idea what Happy was talking about, Peter looked to Ned.

“I think he thinks that because there wasn’t bucket loads of blood on the floor, that this can’t be that bad.”

Realization dawned on Peter, and he grew serious. “Happy, you were bleeding into your shoes.” Peter looked squeamish. “You will definitely be wanting a new pair for when you get back on your feet, by the way.”

Happy groaned. “Dammit.”

Peter panicked. “What’s wrong?! What hurts?”

He tossed his head back and forth. “No’ hurts, jus’ brok‘m in.”

Peter chuckled, “We’ll google some tricks to short cut that for you next time, okay?”

Happy inhaled deep. He was feeling a little more disconnected than before. “m’kay.” He closed his eyes, just to rest them.

The world existed in bursts beyond that point.

Fury standing over him while SHIELD medics worked on him, looking worried in a way Fury never looks... being wheeled into an operating room... and beeping... and alarms... and then heat and fire and ice and water... Tony with his one arm... and May with her laugh... and Peter with everything else... and Tony... and May... May... always May...

And then, on the evening of the fourth day, he came to.

He saw them all, tucked in and resting on couches and chairs. They looked exhausted... so he figured he’d let them rest.

And Happy decided to join them.