Chapter Text
Going back to school wasn’t as difficult as Peter imagined. If anything, it was a relief to shift back into a semi-normal routine. Get up, get dressed, eat, take the train… The Only real difference was that he was starting from Ned’s apartment, instead of the one he shared with May. He went about the motions pretending that one detail didn’t bother him as much as it did.
The moment he reached the school, he hesitated just outside the entrance. Ned paused, too, the door half open.
“If you don’t want to stay, you can always call my ma. She’d come get you.”
Peter nodded his head, smiling. He had no doubt that she would come if he asked, but he also knew how much school he’d already missed. He didn’t think he should miss any more. “Yeah, I know.” He twisted his student ID lanyard between his hands and inhaled deeply. “But I should at least try. Right?”
Ned smiled and nodded, but his brows were pulled together like he didn’t quite believe that. He didn’t say anything else, though. He simply pushed the rest of the way into the school, using his foot to keep the door ajar for Peter to follow.
Nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone. The hallways were crowded. The lights were too bright, and the classrooms smelled like a combination of whiteboard markers and whatever soap the janitors used on the floors. He kept his head down as he walked the halls, but that wasn’t enough to make himself blend into the background. A constant flow of “Hey, man. I’m really sorry,” and “If you need anything, let me know,” came at him from every direction. Teachers, classmates, even people he’d barely ever spoken to, all offered him the same well-meaning condolences.
He didn’t hate it. He just didn’t have the energy to process it all. So he nodded, or smiled, saying ‘ thanks’ when he remembered to, but made no effort to sustain the exchanges.
In first period, Mr. Harrington paused halfway through the roll call, doing a double take when he spotted Peter in his usual seat by the window. “Welcome back, Peter. I’m really sorry to hear about your aunt. If you’re not up for participating–”
“It’s okay!” He rapidly replied. The last thing he wanted was to draw more attention to himself. “Thanks, though.”
Every class after that went the same exact way. He’d walk in and quietly take his seat. The teacher would spot him, their eyes going from surprised to sympathetic before saying how sorry they were and offering to help in one way or another. Academically, emotionally, or a little bit of both.
It wasn’t until lunch that he finally saw MJ. She was already at the table when he walked in, casually eating an apple while sketching in a notebook. She glanced up, catching him in her sight, and for a split second her typical neutral expression cracked.
She stood up, pulling him into a hug so quickly that it caught him off guard. Her arms were tight around his body and his chin dug into his shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to make this a habit.” She took a step back, her arms swinging by her sides. “I just thought it might help… I missed you.”
Peter swallowed hard and nodded. ”Yeah, thanks,” he murmured. “I missed you, too.”
Surprisingly, Flash wasn’t a giant jerk. That was probably the most bizarre part of the whole day. Normally, Flash would have already tracked him down just to make some sort of snarky comment about Peter being poor or delusional. ‘ Yeah, right. As if they’d let you in the same room as Tony Stark.’ Instead, he gave him a quick look, barely meeting his eyes as he said, “Sorry to hear about your aunt, Parker.” There was still a little smirk, but it was less taunting and more like an attempt at being a decent person. Unsure of how to react, Peter gave him a small, tentative smile.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, one class melting into the next. By the time the final bell rang, Peter felt like someone had poured cement into his shoes. His limbs felt heavy, each step taking more effort than it should. Even smiling at Ned felt completely and utterly exhausting.
They took the train back to the Leeds' apartment in near silence. Ned played a game on his phone, and Peter stared out the window, mindlessly watching the blur of tiles and stations slip past.
Mrs. Leeds offered snacks when they arrived. Ned happily accepted, carrying a bowl of popcorn into the living room and flipping the television on.
Peter, on the other hand, chose to grab a granola bar and slip into the bedroom. He sank onto the air mattress, phone in hand and thumbed through his contacts until he reached ‘Mr. Stark.’
The line rang twice, then Mr. Stark’s voice came through, warm and welcoming, like a well-loved blanket. “Hey, Kid! How was your first day back?”
Peter leaned back against the wall, a sigh turning into a yawn halfway through. “Not bad, I guess.” He rubbed his eyes and slid into his back.
“You sound pretty wrecked, buddy. You okay?”
Peter huffed a tired breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “It was weird. Everyone’s being nice. Like, too nice. Kids I don’t even know where talking to me, and Teachers kept offering to let things slide. But the weirdest part? Flash didn’t try to make fun of me. Not even once. He called me by my name. My last name, but still– It was bizarre.”
“Terrifying.” Mr. Stark chuckled. “Is this a body snatcher situation? Should we call someone in to investigate?”
“Funny.” Peter let his eyes fall closed. “Just– felt like a really long day.”
“Makes sense. The first day back’s a bitch, but you did it anyway.” A pause. “I'm proud of you.”
Peter blinked hard. His throat felt tight again. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Need anything?”
“Not really.” Peter shook his head, one arm flopped over his forehead. “Just wanted to call.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Mr. Stark replied, his tone nothing but honest. “Now, why don’t you go take a nap, hmm? Just a little one, don’t want to mess with your sleep schedule too much.”
Peter scoffed because he was pretty sure Mr. Stark had absolutely no room to talk about anyone else's messed-up sleep schedule.
“Do as I say, not as I do.”
The comment to Peter by surprise, a genuine laugh bubbling out of his mouth. “I’ll see you soon, right?”
“You bet, Kiddo. If not tomorrow, then one hundred percent at the courthouse on Wednesday. Sounds good?”
“Mhm,” he hummed, voice thick with sleep. The court date did sound good. It was the last big thing standing between him and a real bed at the Tower — his bed. His space. His things. And thanks to everyone’s open positivity, he wasn’t even nervous about the outcome. He was just tired. Ready. He wanted it over with already. “Sounds good,” he repeated.
The call ended. Peter set his phone on the floor beside the air mattress and curled onto his side. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, staring at the shadowed wall.
He made it through Monday. He could get through Tuesday. Then Wednesday would come, and after that, maybe things would finally settle.
The courtroom was smaller than Tony expected. It wasn’t like the cold, echoey ones built for jury trials or grandstanding lawyers. The modest space was situated on the courthouse’s sixth floor. There was a flag in the corner, a seal of the State of New York on one wall, and just enough seating to accommodate everyone involved.
He glanced at Peter, sitting in front of the Leeds family, sandwiched between Ms. Mosely and the court-appointed guardian ad litem. He didn’t look terribly nervous. His eyes were darting around the room, but not in a panicked manner; more like he was taking it all in.
The judge sat at the bench, glasses perched at the end of her nose, flipping through files. She didn’t look like she was in any kind of a hurry, making Tony’s stomach twist. He’d definitely watched too many courtroom dramas, the kind where the length of the silence predicted the outcome. The longer it lasted, the worse it would be. He rubbed his hand over his face, concealing the way he rolled his eyes while reminding himself that television logic didn’t apply in the real world. His lawyer had been thorough. Nothing was amiss. There was no reason to worry.
Finally, the judge cleared her throat, leaning forward, still staring at a stack of papers. “Let’s begin. This is docket number 0616-FAM, in the matter of Peter Benjamin Parker, a minor, regarding the petition for emergency relief and proposed kinship placement with Anthony Edward Stark.”
She paused to flip a page.
“I’ve reviewed the emergency filing,” She said, looking up over the rims of her glasses. “The argument presented claims that Mr. Parker’s original caseworker failed to consider or follow up on his stated preference for placement with Mr. Stark. That accurate?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” He rose to his feet, tucking his hands neatly behind his back. Confident, like he was speaking at a press conference. “Peter lost his aunt, and when he was asked where he wanted to go, he asked for me. But the system, for reasons I don’t think were malicious, didn’t make room for that. They didn’t understand. So he improvised, requesting to go to his best friend’s home in the wake.”
He nodded toward Dolores and her husband, sitting side by side, both of them smiling. “The Leeds’ have been nothing but kind to him. I want to be very clear about that. They haven’t done anything wrong. They’ve been generous and supportive. They clearly care about him, but staying with them was a temporary solution. I’ve been in his life. He’s been in mine. He asked me to come to me.”
The judge nodded. “I understand. And you’ve known the child for how long?”
“A little over a year.” Tony clenched his jaw, wishing he could offer a much larger number. “I met him through the September foundation. He applied, and I signed off on it. His proposal was so impressive that I decided to meet him in person. At that time, I met his aunt as well. We became close, all of us. May used to joke that I was her co-parent. I laughed it off at first, but she wasn’t wrong. The three of us– we weren’t family on paper, but we were something close.”
The judge nodded and scribbled something down.
Ms. Mosley stood next, her hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Peter has expressed clearly and repeatedly that he wishes to remain with Mr. Stark. He understands the implications of that decision. I’ve found no reason to object. He’s grieving, but stable. He shows no signs of behavioral concerns, and–” she looked toward Tony, then Peter, “he already thinks of Mr. Stark as a parental figure. I think that’s important to note.”
The judge made another note. “Mrs. Neal, as Peter’s guardian ad litem, do you agree with this assessment?”
“I do. I’ve spoken with Peter several times, both inside the Leeds’ home and on neutral territory. Peter has made it very clear that he wishes to stay with Mr. Stark.”
“Alright. And Peter? Do you have anything you’d like to say?”
Tony watched as Peter’s shoulders stiffened, like he was bracing for impact. He didn’t hesitate, though. Not really. “I don’t wanna be moved around. I want to go home. To the Tower– with Mr. Stark.”
The judge smiled and nodded, not pressing for more. Instead she turned her attention to the second row. “Mr. and Mrs. Leeds? Any words?” she asked.
Dolores stood up. “We support the placement. We love Peter and trust that he knows where he belongs. If he says Mr. Stark is family, then that’s where he should be. ”
While the judge rifled through the files, Tony felt his throat tighten. He really owed the Leeds something more than dinner. Maybe he’d send them on a month-long, luxury cruise, cover the whole thing, take care of Ned while they were gone.
He smirked to himself. A month might be overshooting it. Spending that long with two teenagers could turn into more than he bargained for. A week felt manageable. Two, if he was feeling ambitious.
“Alright, the judge said, pulling Tony from his thoughts. “Based on what I've read and what I’ve heard from everyone today, I’m granting temporary guardianship to Mr. Stark, effective immediately. Pending final paperwork, the full guardianship hearing will be finalized within the month. The placement will be reviewed within seventy-two hours, and a home inspection will follow.”
The gavel came down with a soft thud. It wasn’t a triumphant sound. It wasn't a complete victory, just a quick, quiet acknowledgment that the court had seen what Tony had already known. Peter belonged with him.
The hallway outside the courtroom was a patchwork of whispered voices and scuffing shoes, but the air felt different. Less stuffy. Like someone had cracked a window open, allowing the pressure to escape.
They stood in a semicircle just past the heavy wooden doors. Everyone was smiling, quietly celebrating the positive outcome. Peter stayed close to Mr. Stark without really meaning to, their arms practically touching.
Mr. Stark didn’t scoff or move away. He stood there talking, his glasses pushed up high on his head like he’d forgotten they were there. He held a copy of the court order in one hand, the other tucked casually into his pocket.
“Typically, I facilitate these kinds of transitions. I help the child pack their things and transport them to their new placement,” Ms. Mosley said, her smile reaching her eyes. “I have a feeling my services are not required in this particular situation.”
The adults all nodded, murmuring quiet affirmations. Mr. Stark gave a small, satisfied shrug, one hand tucked into his pocket. “Nah, I think we’ve got it from here,” he said, voice low but certain.
Ms. Mosley smiled warmly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Congratulations again,” she offered, then turned, the soft click of her heels echoing against the laminate floor as she walked away.
An arm slid around Peter’s shoulders, light but steady.
“Alright, Pete.” Mr. Stark tugged him into a light side embrace. “Let’s grab your stuff. Are you ready to hit the road?”
“Yeah.” Peter smiled, then turned to the Leeds, shifting slightly under Mr. Stark’s arm.
“We’ll meet you there,” Mr. Leeds said, giving Peter’s shoulder a brief pat before stepping back.
There wasn’t much to take. One weathered suitcase and the backpack slumped beside it. Ms. Mosley had said some of his other things would be boxed and stored. Peter figured he’d get it eventually. He didn’t ask. Not yet. Just knowing he had a place waiting in Mr. Stark’s penthouse was enough for the moment
The room was quiet except for the occasional creak of floorboards and the distant hum of traffic through the windows. Peter was zipping up his backpack when the sound of hurried footsteps came from the hallway.
“Dude! You’re leaving!” Ned burst in, breathless, his backpack bouncing wildly on his shoulders. He wasn’t upset. His whole face was lit up.
“Yeah.” Peter slung the backpack over one shoulder, then scooped up the suitcase with one hand, his familiar blanket tossed over the other. “I get to go home.”
Ned gave a loud, incredulous laugh. “I can’t believe my best friend is moving into Stark Tower!”
Something about the words pinched. Peter smiled anyway, keeping it firm. “You’ll have to visit. I bet Mr. Stark would say yes.”
“Oh my god!” Ned nearly squealed. “That would be so incredibly awesome!”
Peter was sure he’d never seen Ned’s eyes grow so wide.
They walked back through the hallway to the living room, where the adults had gathered. Mr. Leeds was perched on the arm of the couch, a mug balanced in one hand. Mrs. Leeds stood near the window, steeping a bag of herbal tea in a cup. The entire room smelled of coffee, cinnamon, and orange zest.
Mr. Stark placed his mug on a coaster, the soft thunk breaking the lull in conversation. “You good to go, bud?”
Peter nodded. “Yep. This is everything.”
The Leeds stood as Tony did, all of them walking to the door. Peter set his things down by the wall, only half-turned before Ned was wrapping both arms around him, squeezing tightly.
“You’re gonna come back, right? Stay over again sometime?”
Peter blinked at the sudden embrace, then returned it with a few careful pats to the back. “Of course. Just… not too soon, okay?”
Still grinning, Ned stepped back. “Fair.”
Peter turned to Mr. and Mrs. Leeds. They had stayed a respectful few steps behind, their expressions soft. He walked to them slowly, unsure of what to say. What he knew for sure was that he needed to say something.
When he reached Mrs. Leeds, he took her hand gently and bowed his head, pressing her hand to his forehead, the way he’d seen Ned do so many times. Then he turned to Mr. Leeds and did the same. A gesture of thanks– of respect.
“Thanks,” Peter said, his voice thick. “For letting me stay. For not thinking I was insane when I said I wanted to go live with Mr. Stark. For just… being here, and everything else. I–”
His throat closed up before he could finish. Mrs. Leeds reached out first, arms wrapping around him gently. Mr. Leeds followed, pressing into the other side.
“Peter, ‘nak,” Mrs. Leeds murmured, “you may be moving to your home with Mr. Stark, but you’re family here too.”
“You’re always welcome, Peter,” Mr. Leeds added. His voice was calm, the kind of tone you believed without question.
The goodbyes blurred after that. There were more hugs, a few last words, and then Peter and Mr. Stark stepped out into the afternoon sun. The warm breeze stirred Peter’s curls and billowed the loose dress shirt he’s yet to change out of.
Mr. Stark popped the trunk, loading Peter’s suitcase and backpack, before stepping around to the driver’s side. Peter climbed in, folding the blanket neatly in his lap. The car started with a low rumble, the air conditioning kicking in hard enough to lift the hair from his forehead.
Peter glanced back at the apartment building, then down the worn road that led toward the place he used to share with May. His eyes dropped to the court order resting on the dash. It was stamped at the bottom, signed, and finally final.
For the first time in weeks, his chest didn’t feel like it was wrapped in wire. His shoulders dropped. His knees loosened. The pressure that had been twisting his insides ebbed. He let out a breath, and with it came unanticipated tears; quiet, warm, and steady. They slipped down his cheeks, falling faster the harder he tried to stop them.
“Hey, buddy.” Tony’s hand reached over and rested on his knee. “Overwhelmed?”
Peter gave a shaky nod, rubbing his eyes dry. “Yeah.”
It wasn’t just relief. It was something heavier and quieter, with grief tucked into all of the corners. He was going with Mr. Stark, and he was glad– so glad– but his mind still drifted to May. To what should’ve been.
He was supposed to be with her.
Mr. Stark shifted, unbuckled his seatbelt, and leaned over the center console. His arm looped around Peter, a little awkward with the gearshift between them. Still, it was solid and warm; the kind of hug Peter didn’t realize he needed until he was being swallowed by it.
That was all it took.
His breath hitched, then dissolved into sobs. His hands came up, fingers pressing hard back. He loved Mr. Stark, but he missed May so much that it hurt in places he didn’t even know could feel. Deep down in his bones, like his skeleton had been carved out and hollowed by the ache of her absence.
Mr. Stark didn’t let go. He didn’t speak for a while, either. He just stayed there, one hand curled protectively behind Peter’s head, making him feel small and safe… but also shattered.
After a moment, his loud, ugly sobs quieted down. It was then that he heard it. A sniff, sharp and sudden. Mr. Stark’s back heaved below his hands, and, for a second, Peter thought, ‘Oh, God. I’ve made him cry too.’
Then Mr. Stark’s voice cut through, rough-edged and thoughtful. “May was an amazing person. She was a great aunt and a great friend . The best one anyone could ask for, honestly. She was fierce and funny and… ” His breath hitched. “I'm going to miss her, too.”
Peter’s breath caught. He’d known that Mr. Stark and May were close. Of course, he had. But he hadn’t really considered it. Not really. Not until that moment that was he the only one who lost May.
Mr. Stark had lost her, too.
The tears slowed, but Peter stayed where he was, tucked into the space beneath Mr. Stark’s arm. His eyes felt raw and his chest ached, but not in the same way. It had become a different kind of hollow, one edged with understanding.
They held on for a little while longer, then leaned back into their seats. Peter wiped his face on his sleeve. Mr. Stark scrubbed a hand down his own, eyes a little red, nose pink.
He sniffed again and gave Peter a sidelong glance.
“Don’t tell anyone I just did the feelings thing,” he said, his voice dry and raspy. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
Peter laughed despite himself. “Right. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you were human, huh, Iron Man?”
“There it is.” Mr. Stark pointed at him. “There’s the sass I enjoy so much. And here I was, worried I’d have to return you and ask for a refund.”
Peter smiled, shaking his head. “You’d never.”
“You’re right.” Mr. Stark squeezed the back of Peter’s neck. “I’d never.”
The silence that followed was easier. Lighter.
Mr. Stark reached for the gearshift, then paused. “Ready to go home?”
Peter looked out the windshield. The street was bustling in the gold haze of early evening. Beside them was the apartment that had been a pit stop, not a home. But ahead of them… Ahead of the road stretched forward. The cracked pavement and blinking crosswalks led all the way to Manhattan.
“Yeah.” He looked at Mr. Stark and nodded once. “Let’s go home.”
Mr. Stark smiled and shifted the car into drive.
The vehicle eased forward, and Peter turned in his seat, watching the building grow smaller until it vanished around the corner. Then he faced forward, the blue blanket still folded in his lap, his back pressed to the seat.
Home wasn’t where May was anymore.
But it was waiting for him anyway.
At the Tower with Mr. Stark.