Chapter Text
The crushed pieces of the bug rest in his hand, like breadcrumbs.
(These pieces, they’re not breadcrumbs, are they? They’re lies. Lies, lies, lies.)
Peter should’ve known. He should’ve fucking known. He had been suspicious, hadn’t he? He had suspected that the internship was fake. Had he not turned Tony down at first? Then why, Peter thinks, am I so surprised? Why do I feel betrayed?
(The nasty voice in Peter’s head returns, and it feeds him no lies this time around.)
Peter gives the crushed pieces a scrutinizing look, and then glances at his windowsill. He doesn’t quite know what to think about when he notices that the windowsill and the bug are the same damn color.
(You can trust no one, the voice tells him, not even yourself.)
He lets the pieces roll off of his hands, watches them fall on the soft carpet he stands on.
He manages to put on his suit in record time. Peter pulls on the mask, opens the window, and perches himself on top of the windowsill.
And then Peter jumps.
He only has one destination in mind.
The night is chilly, and Peter can see the night dew on the windows of where unassuming people live.
The night is frosty, and Peter can feel the cold air through his skintight suit.
The night is cold, and yet, Peter feels warm.
(It’s anger; anger that makes his blood boil, anger that makes him feel warm and heated.
It’s anger that controls him and every bone in his body)
Tony doesn’t even look surprised when Spider-Man knocks on his window past midnight. He just opens the window with the help of his all-too-intelligent AI, and says, “Before you yell at me for being the huge asshole that I am, I really want to know how you found out.”
If Peter had had the bug he would’ve thrown it at Tony full force. But he doesn’t have the damn thing, because he’d crushed it with his bare hands, destroying all evidence of it ever existing. In hindsight, he’s really regretting letting his anger getting the best of him.
And so instead, Peter tells him through gritted teeth, “I found the bug you placed in my room.”
Tony’s eyebrows shoot up at this.
“Really? Huh. Wouldn’t have guessed that, actually. Thought I summoned all of them back ages ago… Well. I’ll say. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? I like it, the unpredictability. Reminds me of how Pepper views me, actually. Not in a bad way, of course.”
Peter ignores his rambling.
“You lied to me.” he hisses and then finally enters the room fully through the window.
Once he’s fully inside the room, Peter doesn’t even get to open his mouth again before Tony quickly says, “FRIDAY, room shutdown.”
Peter whirls around, and sure enough, the windows suddenly get encapsulated in metal plates. The door gets encapsulated in metal plates as well. The plates on the door look more fragile than the ones on the windows. Peter is pretty sure he could pry the door open with his bare hands if he wanted to, but he isn’t gonna tell Tony that. Better to have one last trick up his sleeve if it ever comes to that.
He turns to Tony once more.
“You fucking knew, and you lied, you said that you-”
But then Tony holds up his hand, and says, “Ah, ah, ah! I never lied to you, Peter. As I recall it, you never asked whether I knew or not. And not to brag or anything, but my memory is pretty amazing.”
“But I asked-”
“And I told you I knew about your short time in the system. Which wasn’t a lie.”
(Is it hypocritical of Peter to get mad at Tony for modifying the truth, when Peter so often does it himself?)
Peter splutters, “That- that isn’t the point! You knew I was asking about this, not about my fucking time in the system or- or-”
(It is hypocritical, it is, it is, it is.)
“Language.”
“What?”
“Language. Y’know, because you said a bad word?”
Peter feels his mouth fall open.
In the short few minutes it had taken Peter to get from his apartment and to the tower, he’d imagined a million different scenarios in his head. He’d imagined Tony arresting him for his vigilante schtick, had imagined Tony summoning his Iron Man suit to restrain him, had imagined Tony freezing up at the sight of an angry super-enhanced teenager.
None of the imaginary scenarios had been whatever the fuck this was. None. Tony’s lips were quirking upwards ever so slightly, and he showed absolutely no sign of being afraid of Peter.
And Peter… Peter could feel his anger morphing into something else. Because it isn’t anger; not anymore. He should be mad. Livid. For some weird reason, though… he isn’t.
“Have you always known?” Peter snarls and then curls his fingers into a tight fist.
“Duh. I’m Tony Stark, I know everything.” Tony makes an exaggerated gesture with his hands when he says the word everything.
He’s usually always one step ahead, Happy had told Peter. Peter should’ve known, then, that something was up. He should’ve fucking known.
“I’m gonna give you a hypothetical scenario. Let’s say a boy gains these amazing powers by some insane coincidence. Right? And then, let’s say, this boy loses the last connection to his family. The boy decides to use these powers of his to do some good, despite his rocky beginnings. To help-”
“Then it’s good you’re just talking hypothetical scenarios, then, right? Because guess what. The boy has already gotten rid of several criminals, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.” Peter says, but doesn’t know if even he believes the own words that are coming out of his mouth. Tony’s lips go thin, and he crosses his arms across his chest.
“You know what? Fine. Okay. Let’s say you’ve gotten rid of every criminal in New York, then. What then?”
“There’s always gonna be more criminals, Mr. Stark,” Peter replies darkly.
“God, that’s not what I-” Tony inhales sharply, “Don’t you see? You’ve been so hellbent on getting rid of them, the criminals, that you nearly became them. And I’m guessing that’s not what you wanted, right?”
Peter’s eyes widen, “I’m not-”
“No, see, this is where you zip it, kid. The adult is talking.” Tony snaps, making Peter flinch. For the first time since meeting the man, he can finally see what’s so intimidating about him. He sees Iron Man, the incredible superhero – not Tony Stark, the nerdy genius.
“Everyone has been telling me I’m crazy for trying to recruit Spider-Man, you know. They keep telling me you’re reckless, you’re dangerous, you’re not worth the risk. That you’re a criminal. But I don’t agree. I think you’ve got something you’re struggling with, and I think you can overcome that struggle. And yeah, it’s on you if you kill someone, regardless of your reasoning for ending their life. But you can change. You can change.”
“What if I can’t? What if- what if I kill you. Right now. You don’t know that I won’t.” Peter’s throat is thick with tears that are threatening to spill.
Tony snorts, “I know you won’t. I’ve been watching your little vigilantism-schtick for a while, and I happen to know that you’ve only gone after the bad guys. Also,” he waves his arm, and holographic files show up in front of him, “Oh! Would you look at that! Only one broken arm this week, and that was the thief’s own fault, not yours. Hm. Interesting, don’t you think?”
“How do you-”
“I’m Tony Stark, Parker,” he repeats arrogantly, “I already told you, I know everything. I’m always one step ahead.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”
“Yes, I do.”
“I beat up my classmate for no reason,” Peter counters, dead set on proving Tony wrong. But… why? Why do I want to prove him wrong? Am I wrong?
(What is wrong with me, what is wrong with me, what is wrong with me?)
“That’s a boldfaced lie, and you know it. That boy - Thompson, was it? - has a history of being a bully. The only reason he hasn’t gotten thrown out yet is because his father keeps donating equipment and shit to the school.”
“How do you- you can’t- how long have you been stalking me!”
Tony scratches the back of his head, “I wouldn’t call it stalking, just… keeping an eye out.”
That’s the same thing, Peter wants to bite back. But… there’s no bite in him left. Tony keeps picking apart his arguments, one by one, and he seems to be putting them far away, too far for Peter to reach.
“I did what you’re doing now, once upon a time,” Tony suddenly tells him. Peter doesn’t bother responding, though he knows his curiousness is showing clearly on his face.
“I killed people I thought deserved it.”
Peter’s mouth goes dry as he gapes at Tony. Tony shifts uncomfortably under his shocked gaze.
“You’re lying.” Peter says, sobering up.
“God, I hope I won’t regret this,” Tony mutters under his breath, “FRIDAY, show the clips.”
A hologram pops up in front of them. The video starts playing. It looks like the video is being shot from Iron Man’s eyes, and he seems to be shooting through the sky like a rocket. The sky on the screen is clear and bright, and it feels like such a stark contrast to the sky in real time. Iron Man flies on the screen for a few more seconds before he lands on his knee with his fist supporting him in what Peter can only describe as a village. Iron Man stands up and hits a man so hard he flies backwards and hits the wall of an upper floor.
And then he fires his repulsor, once, twice, thrice-
Holy shit.
He targets six men and kills them all at the same time-
Holy shit.
He drags a man out from his hiding place, and throws him to the people of the village that look worse for wear. Throws the man to the wolves – to his ultimate demise.
Holy shit.
Peter doesn’t know what to think after seeing that. Except… I don’t want to be like that. It’s a funny thought, considering he’s already been like that. Not to the extent of what Iron Man had done in the video – but still. He has already done that.
His mouth is dry, and the screen disappears, leaving him to look at nothing but the air in front of him. There are a million questions piling up in his head, and he doesn’t even know where to start.
Except, he does. He knows perfectly well what he wants to ask.
“Why?” Peter asks, looking at Tony once more.
“Hm?” he responds, not quite understanding his question.
“Why me?” Peter repeats. It’s not a full question, he knows; but Tony understands what he’s trying to ask.
“Because, kid, you’ve got potential. Plus, you’re still young. It’s not too late for you.”
There is an unfamiliar feeling blossoming in the pit of his stomach. He tries to squeeze it down, tries to make it go away by digging his nails into his palms – it doesn’t work. Especially not when Tony is looking at Peter with hope in his eyes.
“You want me to be like you,” Peter states. Tony shakes his head.
“I want you to be better.”
Silence falls upon them as Peter tries to reflect on what has just been said.
“I should get home,” he then mutters. Tony checks his watch, and then quirks an eyebrow.
“Uhm, yikes. Yeah you should. Kids should have a regular bedtime, you know. Go home, get some sleep- or… maybe you should stay over? I’ve always liked to prepare for the future, so there’s already a room set up for you, if you want.”
He really shouldn’t stay. He should get home, under his own covers and under the safety of his own roof. Then, a voice slithers into his mind, and it tells him, May won’t notice, May doesn’t care, May will be happy you’re not home.
Peter looks Tony in the eyes.
(He stays.)