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Chapter Text

“T-tony?”

“Peter?” The kid sounded wrecked, and the shudder in his voice had Tony tracking his phone within seconds. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“I-I need…” A sob broke through Peter’s voice, and Tony’s legs were carrying him towards the garage before his brain could even process the action. “I need you.”

“I’m coming, kid. I’m coming. Where are you?” He changed his course suddenly, swerving away from the cars and towards the launch pad instead. He’d take the suit and have Happy meet them with a car afterwards, if it was even necessary.

Shit. Should he be calling an ambulance?

 “The hospital.”

Tony started. “Are you sick? Peter, are you hurt?”

He needed to get to his kid now.

“N-no. Not me, Mr. Stark. M-my aunt.”

Before Tony could respond, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice sounded through the intercom. “Sir, Peter is currently located at Lenox Hill Hospital. You should be able to reach his location in approximately 15 minutes using the suit.”

“What happened, kid?”

“I don’t-”

Suddenly, Peter’s voice was cut off by another.

“Mr. Parker? Is that your emergency contact?”

“Y-yes. He-he’s coming.”

“Please give me the phone, Mr. Parker. I need to talk to him.”

“O-okay.”

There were muffled noises as the phone was transferred.

“Hello? This is Avery Nickles from the Department of Social Services. I understand that you’re Peter Parker’s emergency contact?”

Tony’s whole body went cold. Social Services. That meant…

No.

The suit closed around him and the call was quickly forwarded to the comms. He took off, streaking towards the distantly glowing lights of New York City.

Too far, he thought, I’m too far away from him.

“Yeah,” he forced the words through the lump in his throat, “yeah I am.”

“Has Peter informed you of the situation?”

“No. You didn’t really give him a chance.” Tony didn’t even attempt to conceal the bite in his words.

The worker sighed, taking on a tone of practiced sympathy that made the billionaire’s skin crawl. “I’m very sorry to inform you of this, but May Parker was involved in a fatal car wreck this evening. She passed away a little under an hour ago. As you may be aware, she was Mr. Parker’s last living relative. Peter needs someone to sign for his temporary guardianship until Mrs. Parker’s will can be retrieved and reviewed. When I asked him, Peter said that you may be an option. If you’re unwilling or incapable, I can place him in a foster home until-”

“I’m on my way.” Tony snapped, stomach twisting at the image of Peter, grieving and alone, being shoved into a house full of strangers. “I’ll sign whatever you want.”

“Thank you. For security purposes, and to streamline the process once you arrive, I’m going to need your name. To ensure his safety, a simple background check will be necessary before we can release Peter to you. I’m sure you understand. I can have the process begun immediately. Hopefully it’ll be complete once you arrive.”

“Tony Stark.”

The line was silent for a few moments. If he hadn’t been so worried about Peter, Tony might have felt a grim satisfaction at breaking her professional resolve.

“Ah. Right. I see.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m about ten minutes out. Is that all?”

“Uh, yes. We’ll speak more once you arrive.”

“Yeah. Sure. Can I speak to Peter?”

“Of course.”

A second later, the kid’s wobbly voice came back across the line.

“H-hey Mr. Stark.”

“Hey there, kiddo. I heard what happened.”

The kid just sniffled.

“Listen,” Tony started, heart pounding at the prospect of having to comfort a crying child, “just hang in there, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah.”

The moment that call ended, Tony made another one.

“Tony?”

“Rhodey!” Tony exclaimed, finally letting his panic slide up his throat at the sound of his best friend’s voice. “I need you to call my lawyers. All of them.”

“What did you do this time, Tony?”

“I’m adopting a kid.”

“You’re,” Rhodey paused, sputtering over his words in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic of the usually suave Colonel, “you’re doing what now?”

“Peter’s aunt is dead.”

“Tony… Tony, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not my tragedy.”

“Right, well,” Rhodey’s voice went deadly serious, “what’re you gonna do?”

“I just told you, Rhodes. I’m heading to pick him up now. I’ll sign temporary guardianship papers until they get the will.”

“What if she’s got a guardian already lined up for him in the will, Tony?”

“She does.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, dumbass.”

“It-it’s you?”

“Jesus, Rhodey, thanks for the vote of confidence. Yes, it’s me. She changed it four months ago.”

“So… why do you need to adopt him? You’ll be his guardian either way.”

“Because…” Tony took a deep breath. If it was hard to admit this to Rhodey, it was going to be impossible to tell anyone else. “Because I don’t want this to be a temporary thing. I’m in it for the long haul, and I want the kid to know that.”

“Man, Tony.” Rhodey said, voice filling with awe and something that sounded a little like pride. “You’re really going to do this.”

“Yeah, I am.” He landed heavily on the sidewalk outside of the hospital, startling every bystander in the vicinity. “Listen, I’m here. Call the lawyers. Get them working on it, but keep them off my ass for tonight, okay? I’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“Of course, Tones. Remind me why I’m doing this and not Pepper?”

Tony sighed. “You know she’s got those massive negotiations in Beijing this week. Not sure it’s the best time to spring this on her.”

“You’re going to have to tell her eventually.”

“I know that, Rhodey. Just not now, okay?”

“Alright… do me a favor and shoot me a text when you’re almost to the Compound.”

“Sure. Bye, Rhodes.”

“Good luck.”

The second the call clicked off, Tony scrambled out of the suit and sent it to wait on the roof, forcibly ignoring the stares he was getting from passersby.

When he got inside, a nurse directed him to the right floor, and he jogged through the corridors in a blur of barely contained panic until he zeroed in on exactly what, or who, he was looking for.

Oh, Peter.

The kid looked lost. He was sitting in an office with glass walls, tucked in a large, leather recliner that dwarfed his tiny frame. His hands were hidden in the sleeves of his sweatshirt and his head was bowed as though the weight of the word was resting upon it. Every breath shook through his shoulders, and it was obvious that he was crying.

Across from Peter sat a well-dressed woman. She was completely ignoring the sniffling teenager in front of her, opting instead to focus on the computer sitting on her desk.

Taking a deep breath, Tony shoved his shoulders back and strutted into the room exuding as much of his “I am Tony Stark” confidence as possible.

The woman’s eyes instantly shot up to meet his. “Mr. Stark! I’m so glad you could make it here so quickly.”

Tony shook her extended hand with practiced ease. “Mrs. Nickles. I wish we could’ve met under less tragic circumstances.”

She nodded, sending an entirely unsubtle look Peter’s way. “Yes. I agree. Shall we get everything settled?”

“Please.” Tony said. It unsettled him that the kid hadn’t even acknowledged his mentor’s presence. “I’d like to take him home as quickly as possible.”

“Of course.” The social worker gestured for Tony to follow her back to the desk. “You just need to sign these papers to agree to temporary guardianship. We’ll be contacting you within the next 48 hours about Mrs. Parker’s will. If you don’t mind me asking, are you aware of whom Mrs. Parker chose for Peter’s guardianship in the event of her death?”

Tony saw Peter flinch at the worker’s bluntness and felt an instinctual need rear up inside him to rush over to the kid and drag him as far away from this woman as possible. Instead, he took a steadying breath before responding.

“Yes. I think you’ll find that I’m the one Mrs. Parker has listed.”

Peter’s head snapped up, looking at Tony for the first time since he entered the room.

The social worker looked surprised, too.

“And…” she paused, seeming unsure how exactly to proceed. “and are you willing to undertake these responsibilities?”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

She blinked.

“Of course. Well, if you’ll just sign here, you can be on your way.”

Tony casually scrawled his signature across the line she pointed to. “Would you mind getting a copy of these for me to give my lawyers?”

“Ah, yes. Of course, of course.”

As she bustled over to the copy machine, Tony finally let his legs do the thing they’d wanted to do since he picked up Peter’s call.

 Go to his kid.

“Hey, Peter.” The teenager looked up at his mentor with bloodshot eyes.

“Tony.” Peter whispered. “Tony.”

“Yeah, kid. I’m here.”

The teenager didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes trailed up to look at something hovering over Tony’s shoulder.

“Mr. Stark? Here are the copies you asked for, as well as my card. I’m assigned to Peter’s case. If you need any help or have any questions regarding your new responsibilities as his guardian, please let me know. I understand that this is going to be a difficult transition for both you and Pete-”

“Thank you.” Tony said, taking the folder she offered and cutting her off abruptly. “I’ll be sure to give my lawyers your number, in case they have any questions.”

She just pursed her lips and nodded, silently heading back to her desk.

“Okay, kiddo. We’re free. Ready to head on out?”

Peter just shrugged.

Suddenly, Tony was struck by just how out of his depth he was. He had no idea how to handle a grieving teenager. Hell, he barely knew how to handle himself.

He shook his doubts away just as quickly as they’d emerged. He didn’t have time for them. Right now, Peter needed him to have his shit together. And if that’s what Peter needed, that’s what he would do.

Tony reached out and gently gripped Peter’s forearm, guiding the monotone boy to his feet and out the office door. The kid moved like a zombie, listlessly allowing the older man to tug him along. Tony used his free hand to text Happy.

Tony Stark: you here?

Happy Hogan: Parked outside. How’s the kid’s aunt?

Tony winced before responding. He’d forgotten that he hadn’t told anyone besides Rhodey that Peter was now an official member of the orphaned kid club.

Tony Stark: Gone.

Happy Hogan: Holy shit. I’m so sorry, Tony. What’s gonna happen to Peter?

Tony Stark: He’s mine.

Tony shouldered open the exit and guided Peter through behind him, double checking that the heavy doors wouldn’t bump into the trance-like teenager as they swung shut. He spotted Happy instantly, leaning against his black Audi with a concerned expression creasing the space between his eyebrows.

The man jumped to pull open the backdoor, glancing worriedly at the vacancy on Peter’s face.

“Hey there, kid.” Happy said quietly.

“Oh.” Peter looked at Happy dazedly, as if he’d just realized the other man was there. “Hi.”

The driver shot Peter a kind smile, something that would’ve surprised the kid any other day, and then moved to open the front door for Tony.

“I’ll sit with the kid, Happy.”

Happy just nodded, moving around the hood to slide into the driver’s seat.

Tony hopped in beside Peter, pushing him gently across the bench seat and buckling him in. Peter made no indication of even noticing Tony treating him like a toddler. Instead, he just stared blankly at the back of Happy’s headrest.

As Tony tried to pull away from the kid, however, he hit resistance. A glance at his sleeve confirmed that Peter’s fingers were gripping the fabric tightly.

After a quick moment of consideration, Tony slid into the middle seat and tugged the seatbelt into place. He pretended not to notice the way Peter leaned into his side.

The drive to the Compound was spent in tense silence. Peter, who was usually vibrating with pent up energy by the time the car pulled up to the front door, barely moved at all. Tony shot off a quick text to Rhodey, letting him know when they’d arrive, but otherwise matched the kid’s motionless quiet.

Rhodey was waiting for them when they pulled up, much to Tony’s shameless relief.

“Hey, Peter.” Rhodey greeted when Tony tugged the kid out of the car. His voice was soft. “It’s good to see you.”

Tony felt something uncoil inside of his chest when Peter made eye contact with Colonel.

“Hi.”

Well, talking was good, even if Peter seemed incapable of saying anything other than “Tony” or “Hi.”

“Alright, Peter.” Tony said, trying to make his voice as comforting as possible. “Do you want to go to your room and be alone or would you like somebody to stay with you?”

“Tony.” Peter’s voice sounded frantic, his apathy suddenly melting away as his hands scrambled for the front of his mentor’s shirt. “Tony.”

“Okay, okay.” Tony said quickly, guiding the boy into the elevator and noticing Rhodey slide in behind them. “You want me to stay with you?”

Peter nodded.

“Cool. We’ll watch a movie.”

Peter said nothing, eyes quickly regaining their detached quality as the panic faded. His hands didn’t relinquish their hold on his mentor’s shirt.

The elevator delivered them to Tony’s personal quarters. He tugged Peter over to the couch, pushing him down against the plush pillows as gently as he could. The boy just folded, letting his knees drop out from underneath him without even the smallest spark of resistance. Tony knelt in front of the kid, using a finger to tilt his chin up so their eyes met.

“Hey, kiddo. Think you can let get of me for a second? I need to have a quick talk with Rhodey and then we’ll get that movie started and you can cling like a Koala all you want.”

Another nod, and Peter’s fingers reluctantly uncurled from his collar. Man, Tony was really missing the kid’s ceaseless chatter right about now.

Tony gave Rhodey a nod towards his office, which was connected to the living rooms by a short corridor. The moment the door shut behind them, Tony leaned heavily against the wall and put his head in his hands with a shaky breath.

“Tones?” Rhodey whispered.

“You don’t have to be quiet.” Tony said, the rasp in his voice grating painfully against his ears. He pulled his hands away from his face and turned to his friend. “It’s soundproof. Spider-kid can’t hear us.”

Rhodey regarded his friend intently for a moment. “You okay?”

“No. Now tell me what the lawyers said.”

For a second, it looked like the Colonel was going to protest. Thankfully, he didn’t. Tony wasn’t sure he could handle a fight right now. It seemed that Rhodey sensed that too. “They’re drawing up the paperwork now, but they wanted me to caution you about the… permanence… of adoption. And what it could mean for the company.”

“You mean that it would make him my heir? That’s sort of the point, Rhodes.”

“Unless you state otherwise in your will, he’ll get everything, Tony.”

“My statement still stands.”

His best friend just shook his head. “You’re actually serious about this.”

“Why does no one seem to believe that I want this kid?”

“Because you’ve never wanted kids, Tones.”

And it was true. Tony Stark had never wanted kids. But he did want Peter.

And Tony Stark had never been very good at not getting what he wants.

“I know, Rhodey. But he needs me.”

“You know this is going to be hard, right?”

He was right. It was going to be so hard. Harder than anything Tony had tried before, and he was currently elbows deep in trying to convince the UN to issue pardons for the rouge Avengers.

“I do.”

A sigh. “Alright, then. I guess that means I’m an uncle now, huh?”

Tony smiled.

“You’ll be a great one.”

His best friend gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Damn right I will be.”

After a few breaths of laughter, Tony steadied himself. “I need to go back to him, now.”

“Yeah, you do.” Rhodey moved to open the door, pausing briefly at the handle. “I’ll be in my room if you need me. Just have F.R.I.D.A.Y. call.”

“Will do.”

Tony was disappointed, but not surprised, to see that Peter hadn’t moved an inch while he and Rhodey were talking.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Play Star Wars: Episode V, will you?”

“Right away, Sir.”

Tony sat down next to Peter as the opening scrawl rolled across the screen. “I’m back, kid.”

“Tony?”

The kid’s gaze latched onto him at the same moment his hands did, effortlessly rediscovering their previously occupied spots on his chest.

“Yup. That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”

 Peter just blinked up at him. Eventually, with the comforting drone of Star Wars in the background, the teenager’s exhausted body melted into his mentor’s side. They watched the movie in a silence that was far easier to bear than the one they’d been burdened with on the drive to the Compound.

As the credits rolled, Peter’s soft voice drifted to Tony’s ears.

“She’s really gone, isn’t she?”

Tony felt himself inhale sharply. “Yeah, kid. She is. I’m sorry.”

A sob broke its way through Peter’s throat, accompanied by a full-bodied shiver. Tony felt the kid’s misery deep in his chest.

“What-what’s gonna happen to me now?”

Jesus Christ. The kid’s last living family member just died and he felt like he had to worry about who was going to take care of him. Fuck that. “You’ll stay with me.”

Peter’s next words felt a little ridiculous, considering that fact that the kid’s legs were splayed over Tony’s thighs and his face was pressed into his mentor’s chest. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

“No, kid, I don’t.” Tony didn’t miss the way Peter tensed at the words. “But I want to. Will you let me do that? Will you let me take care of you?”

A wobbly voice responded. “I think… I think I’d like that.”

“Good, because I’d like that, too.”

And he’d never meant anything more in his life.

Chapter Text

The first morning that Tony spends as Peter’s official guardian goes about as well as you might expect. He woke up around midday, something that was entirely uncharacteristic and entirely unhelpful, considering the fact that he had a teenage kid to take care of now. Thankfully, a quick check with F.R.I.D.A.Y. revealed that Peter was awake, but hadn’t actually gotten up yet. After some deliberation, Tony got dressed and headed towards the main living area, determined to whip up a homemade breakfast (lunch?) in the hopes of giving the kid some semblance of normalcy.

He got to the kitchen and promptly remembered that he hadn’t made a single meal outside of microwave pizza rolls since his mother had died.

A few weeks after his parents’ deaths, Tony had tried to bake his mom’s favorite pie. Some shitty grief counselor Obadiah had forced on him had tried to convince the young billionaire that it would be a ‘therapeutic’ experience. Ever since, even the thought of touching his mom’s worn recipe book had made bile rise in his throat.

Yet Tony Stark was a lot of things, but a quitter wasn’t one of them. He’d felt decidedly useless the night before, when all he could do was hold Peter as the kid sobbed himself into a restless sleep. Tony despised feeling useless. He was a man of action. When something was broken, he was always among the first who rushed to fix it.

And while he couldn’t fix Peter, he could make sure that the teenager didn’t spend his first morning under his care eating stale cereal or leftover Chinese takeout.

So, breakfast.

He briefly entertained the thought of pulling his mom’s cookbook out from its permanent spot on the kitchen’s highest shelf, but rejected the idea just as quickly. Just the simple act of cooking was going to be hard enough. He’d tackle that demon on a different day, if ever.

In the end, Tony settled on pancakes. They were relatively straightforward and, thanks to Pepper, he had all the ingredients he needed. Once he got over the initial twist in his gut and let his admittedly rusty muscle memory take over, something inside him warmed at the comforting familiarity of mixing ingredients together.

It felt like his mom was standing just a few feet away, humming an AC/DC song under her breath while tucking a delicately packaged sandwich into his Captain America lunchbox.

Except when he opened his eyes to transfer the pancakes from the skillet onto a plate, she wasn’t the person standing tentatively by the kitchen counter.

“Peter!” Tony exclaimed, jumping a little in surprise. “I, uh, didn’t hear you come in.”

The kid just shrugged. His hair was ruffled and Tony felt a strange itch to reach out and smooth it down.

Dear God. He’d been a guardian for less than 24 hours and he was already getting all weird and parental.

“Do you like pancakes?” He blurted out, trying to distract himself from both his intrusive thoughts and the way Peter was hunching defensively underneath his massive sweatshirt.

A nod. Had the kid forgotten how to talk? Shit. Was that a thing that could happen?

 “Good!” Tony slid the plate across the counter, forcing enthusiasm through the growing pit of worry gnawing at his stomach. “Eat up.”

For a second, Peter just stared at the food like it was a completely foreign concept to him.

“I, uh,” the kid’s voice cracked from disuse, “I’m sorry to ask and, uh, everything but I, um, might need a fork. And knife.”

Tony had to actively prevent himself from slamming his head into a nearby cabinet. Of course the kid needed fucking silverware. Who thought it was a good idea to entrust him with the life of a child again?

May Parker, his brain supplied gently.

And she had. She’d looked at him with desperate, pleading eyes, and begged him to agree to take care of Peter if anything happened to her. He had given her his word.

And Stark men kept their word.

“Right. Duh. Here you go, squirt.” Tony grabbed the utensils out of the drawer and plopped them down beside the kid’s plate.

Peter ate robotically, chewing eat bite as if it was made of congealed cardboard. Still, he did clear his plate, even if the process was painstakingly slow. Tony supposed that was a good thing. After all, he couldn’t remember eating anything the day after his parents’ crash. Obadiah and Rhodey force fed him at some point, he thinks, but he was pretty sure it had taken him weeks to start eating of his own accord again.

“Good job, kid.” He praised once the teenager put down his fork.

After Peter had finally passed out the night before, Tony had started researching. He’d read that positive reinforcement was vital when dealing with grieving children, and it also fit Tony’s personal criteria of being on the list of ‘Things Howard Stark Never Did.’

Peter stared at his lap for a solid minute before speaking.

“Today’s Sunday.”

Tony nodded indulgently. “Yes, Peter, it is.”

“Do I… do I have to go to school tomorrow?” Every word felt fragile, as if a stray wind might force his sentences to shatter.

The billionaire was shaking his head before Peter could even finish the sentence. “No. Not unless you want to.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Perfect. I get lonely easily, you know. It’ll be nice to have you around as some in-home entertainment.”

It was a flat out lie. Tony Stark could spend weeks in perfect solitude without batting an eye, but the kid didn’t need to know that right now.

For the first time since emerging from his room, Peter met Tony’s eyes.

“I-”

Tony’s ringtone cut him off.

“Shit, Peter. I’m sorry. I have to take this. There’s apple juice in the fridge, if you want it. I’ll be right back.”

He headed quickly to his office, answering the phone as soon as he was through the door.

“This is Stark.”

“Hello, Mr. Stark. My name is Mandy Higgins. I work in Lenox Hills Hospital’s mortuary. I understand that you’ve taken over temporary guardianship of Peter Parker. I hate to disturb you during your time of grief, but I was calling to ask if you’d made any decisions regarding May Parker’s funeral arrangements.”

Of course. Someone needed to organize May’s funeral. If he hadn’t been so absorbed in the kid, he would have seen this coming.

“Right.” He racked his brain, desperately trying to remember what the protocol had been the last time he’d done this. Had he done this? Or had Obadiah handled that, too?

Thankfully, the woman on the end of the line seemed to be used to handling people working through grief-addled senses. “The first step is finding a proper funeral home. They usually handle the rest. I can send you a list of options in the area.”

“She’s from Queens.” He doesn’t know why he said it.

“I can ensure that all the options are located there, if you’d like.”

He briefly considered accepting her offer, just to be polite. But he also knew it would be a waste of her time. F.R.I.D.A.Y. could find him the best options in just seconds.

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We haven’t settled on one yet. I’ll give you a call back once we’ve decided.”

“Absolutely. Please, take your time.” She rattled off a phone number, and Tony scrawled it across a sticky note.

“Thanks again. I’ll be in touch.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Tony winced. It wasn’t his loss.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” He called out, shoving his phone into his pocket with a great deal more force than necessary. “Find me funeral homes in Queens. Only the best, mind you. Oh, and call Rhodey. Tell him I need him.”

“Of course, Boss. Colonel Rhodes is on his way. I’ve forwarded a list of the top rated funeral homes within Queens to your phone.”

Tony shook his head. “Just… tell me about the top one.”

“It has five stars with over one thousand reviews. Many well-vetted sources cite it as a quality facility.”

“Is it expensive?”

“Very.”

“Good. Choose that one. Let the hospital know what I’ve decided.”

“Right away, Sir.”

Without sparing another second, Tony walked back out to Peter. He was pleased to see that the kid had moved. He was less pleased to see that he was washing dishes.

In the sink. By hand.

“Uh, what do you think you’re doing?”

Peter started, nearly dropping the glass he was holding in the process. “Sorry.”

Tony just raised a single eyebrow. “No, Peter. Don’t apologize. It’s just that, I have a dishwasher for a reason.”

Peter stared at him for a minute before bursting abruptly into tears. “I just… May used to make me do it.”

Tony felt a sharp pain in his heart at the way Peter’s voice quivered on the name.

“Oh.”

And just like that, a teenage kid from Queens managed to render the great Tony Stark completely speechless.

“I-I j-just,” Peter seemed to choke on every syllable, “I c-can’t believe she-she’s r-really gone. She was just here. I can s-still remember how her sh-shampoo smelled and t-the l-last thing she s-said t-to me. H-how can s-he just b-be gone, Mister Stark?”

“Tony.”

“W-what?”

I’m an idiot. Tony thought. I’m an insensitive, ridiculous idiot with no self control.

“You called me Tony last night. You should keep calling me that.”

What’s wrong with you? The kid’s crying about his dead aunt and you think to lecture him about what he should fucking call you.

“Tony’s my name, by the way. Didn’t know if you knew that. Hi.”

Yeah, Tony, good one. Keep digging your hole. It’s not deep enough yet.

To his surprise, however, Peter giggled a little, wiping hastily at his wet cheeks. “Hi, Tony. My-my name’s Peter. Not kid. I… I didn’t know if you knew that, either.”

Tony smiled, letting out a quick laugh of his own. “Nope. Pretty sure your name is legally ‘kid,’ kid.”

It seemed like Peter was going to continue the joke, but was interrupted by a hiccupping gasp as the teenager tried to swallow back another wave of tears.

“Oh, Peter.” Tony let his body act of off instinct before he could over think its movements. He closed the distance between him and Peter in just a few steps, reaching out to grip the boy’s shoulders gently. “You can cry. You know that, right? It’s okay to cry.”

The teenager just bit his lip, eyes shining.

Before he could let himself back out, he yanked the kid into a hug. For a few moments, both men stood awkwardly, bodies tensed. Peter relaxed first, fisting his hands into the back of Tony’s shirt and melting into the older man’s chest. A few breaths later, and Tony felt one of his hands move up to card through the kid’s unruly hair while the other rubbed comforting circles across his lower back.

At least, Tony hoped that they were comforting.

When they broke apart, Peter averted his eyes to the ground shyly, a flush creeping its way up his neck. Tony shifted uncomfortably.

“Tony?”

The older man smiled at the sound of the kid finally using his name. “Yes, Peter?”

“What… what’s gonna happen? To May, I mean. Do I… do I need to… do something?”

Tony took a deep breath. He should have guessed that Peter would ask something like that. Even grieving, the kid wasn’t stupid.

“You can help plan the funeral if you want to. Would you like to do that, Peter?”

Peter said nothing. Tony could practically see his internal struggle.

Finally, the teenager spoke. “I-I don’t think I want to. Is that… is that okay?”

“That’s totally okay, kid.”

In the next moment, two things happened.

Rhodey slid out of the elevator, looking around tentatively and giving Peter a friendly wave. Just as he did so, Tony’s phone rang for the second time that morning.

“Hey, Rhodey.” Tony greeted, glancing down at the caller ID. It was Peter’s social worker. “Peter, do you mind talking to Rhodey for a second? I’ll be right back.”

The kid nodded jerkily, and Tony headed back into his office with an exasperated sigh.

“This is Stark.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Stark. This is Avery Nickles. We met last night.”

“I remember. What do you want?”

Okay, so maybe Tony wasn’t feeling particularly patient today. To be fair, he’d just taken over the guardianship of a grief-torn teenage superhero. He felt as though he was entitled to being a little terse.

“We obtained a copy of Mrs. Parker’s will. She did indeed list you as her first and only choice for Peter’s permanent guardianship in the event of her untimely death. I’ve faxed a copy of the paperwork necessary to complete the transition to both you and your lawyers. Once you’ve signed those and sent them back, it’ll all be official.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry to cut this short, but unless there’s anything else, I need to get back to Peter. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure.”

When he reentered the living room, he found Peter sitting on the couch next to Rhodey, who appeared to be attempting a one-sided conversation with the kid.

In fact, Tony was pretty sure he’d never seen his best friend look so relieved to see him.

Under any other circumstances, it would have been hilarious.

As it was, it was just depressing.

“Hey, Peter. Look. Tony’s back.”

The kid’s eyes shot up to his guardian and he immediately reached out for him, looking far more like a toddler than a teenager.

Tony just wordlessly sat down next to him, letting Peter cling to him. For some reason, the physical contact seemed to ground the kid, and Tony wasn’t about to deny him anything.

He tugged out his phone with the one hand that wasn’t occupied with be a steadying presence against Peter’s back.

Tony Stark: anything from the lawyers?

Rhodes: Yeah. They’re working on the paperwork. Everything should be ready in about a week or so.

Tony Stark: that long?

Rhodes: Apparently they want to make sure it’s solid before going on with it all.

Tony Stark: that’s fair… listen, I need you to organize may parker’s funeral

Rhodes: Why can’t you do it?

Tony Stark: look at my lap, rhodes. doesn’t have to be fancy. in fact, make it super simple.

He could see his best friend gaze at Peter with a worried expression before typing back.

Rhodes: Alright. I’ll take care of it.

Tony Stark: thanks

Rhodes: Peter doesn’t seem like he’s handling it very well.

Now it was Tony’s turn to glance away from his phone and stare down at the sniffling kid who had somehow managed to wrap around his mentor like an octopus.

Tony Stark: the first stage of grief is shock and denial

Rhodes: How the hell do you know that?

Tony Stark: been doing some reading

Rhodes: Huh. What’s the second stage, then?

Tony Stark: anger, apparently

Rhodes: That’ll be fun.

Tony just rolled his eyes and pushed his phone back into his pocket, effectively ending the conversation.

Rhodey spoke quietly as he stood to leave. “Is that all you need?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Rhodes.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll see you later.”

And then Rhodey was gone, and Tony found himself alone once again with a crying teenager.

Wonderful.

He felt lost. Dealing with emotions had never been his strongest point. Usually, he just suppressed them until they came bubbling up in a panic-inducing swell.

And boy were they bubbling up now.

He knew that he hadn’t been well-prepped for fatherhood. His dad had never been terrible, really. He’d never actually beaten him. He’d known kids whose parents had. Howard Stark had just been… distant. Disapproving. Absent, even. Whatever Tony did, his father believed that he could have done something more. Something better. Something more worthy of the Stark legacy.

And because Tony had never gained his father’s praise, he’d sought it out through other means. As a young man, he’d fallen into a comfortable but downward spiraling cycle: alcoholism to numb the pain, sex to cling at human intimacy, and extravagant expos, press events, and parties to feel adored.

Underneath it all, though, there had been a single, lurking thought.

I never told my dad I loved him. I never heard him say it back.

To this day, Tony knew that he carried that insecurity, and a host of others stemming from his ‘daddy issues,’ like chinks in his battle armor. It colored everything he did, and every time he failed: his disastrous romantic relationships with Pepper, his inability to see past Obadiah’s false façade of affection, and, ultimately, the collapse of the Avengers in what the press had so indelicately dubbed the Civil War.

Tony Stark had a long list of failures. He would do everything in his power to make sure that Peter Parker would not be one of them.

When he blinked out of his reverie, he was surprised to see that dusk was settling over the Compound. A quick glance at his watch confirmed that he and Peter had sat in silence for nearly three hours. He briefly wondered if the kid was asleep, but Tony could feel his too harsh breathing pushing against his side.

He knew from personal experience that letting Peter curl up on the couch and wallow in his pain wasn’t going to help him, but what he didn’t know was what exactly he could do to distract the kid.

He looked around the room, searching desperately for something that would reveal exactly what his next move should be. His eyes landed on the TV, which was switched on but muted. It was playing some documentary about dwarf stars.

Perfect.

“C’mon, kiddo. I’ve got an idea.”

The voice that responded was weak, but didn’t waver. “What is it?”

“Maybe it’s a surprise, huh?” Tony gently untangled Peter’s limbs from his own and hauled them both to their feet, suppressing a groan when his back ached. Man, getting old sucked.

Peter just shrugged and allowed Tony to tug him along. The billionaire quickly snatched up a bundle of warm blankets on the way to the elevator.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., take us to the roof.”

The expression flashed by so quickly that Tony might have missed it, but he briefly saw Peter’s eyes light up with his trademarked curiosity. Huh. Maybe this was the right choice.

“Why are we going to the roof?”

“Do you understand what the word ‘surprise’ means, kid?”

The teenager rolled his eyes. In the span of a minute, he’d expressed more emotion than Tony had seen from him since before May died.

Something in the billionaire’s chest felt lighter at the realization.

They sat near the edge of the roof. Far enough away that Tony wasn’t afraid that Peter might fall off accidentally but close enough that they could see the Compound stretching out around them for miles.

Close enough that they could see the last remnants of the sunset arcing over the horizon.

“Have you ever been out of New York City, Peter?” Tony asked, wrapping the kid in a bundle of blankets. It was relatively mild for December in New York, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still freezing.

“I-” Peter stopped to ponder, “I’ve been here. And D.C.”

Tony nodded. He’d thought so. “Nowhere else?”

“No.”

“So you’ve never seen the stars, have you?”

The boy snapped his head around to stare at Tony so rapidly that the older man was worried he’d hurt himself. “I mean, I’ve-I’ve seen them on TV. And in books.”

“But never for real, huh?”

“No.”

“Well,” Tony smiled, putting a tentative arm over Peter’s shoulders. He felt relief flood through him when the kid leaned into the touch, “you’re about to.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” He called, giving Peter’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Turn out all the lights. Let everyone else know what’s happening, too, so they don’t panic.”

“Of course, Sir.”

The lights around the Compound winked out, and the sky came to life.

Peter gasped. “Wow. They… they’re beautiful.”

“Yeah? I certainly think so.” Tony paused for a moment, content just to watch the reflection of the moon in Peter’s wide eyes. “Wanna learn some constellations?”

“Oh my god, yes.”

“See those stars, right there?” He pointed towards a cluster just to the left of Peter’s head. “If you connect them, they make Perseus.”

“Oh! I see it! Right there, right?”

“Yeah, kid. You’ve got it.”

And for the next few hours, Tony and Peter lost their grief in the stars.

Chapter Text

May Parker’s funeral came four days after her death.

Tony woke Peter up at eight o’clock sharp. F.R.I.D.A.Y. had offered to do it for him, but something in his gut told him that the kid would appreciate an actual human presence that morning.

When he stepped into Peter’s room, however, Tony felt his resolve waver. The kid looked peaceful. He was sleeping facing the doorway and, for the first time since Tony had picked him up from the hospital, there wasn’t a single suggestion of grief on his face. The older man glanced around the room with a small smile, leaning a casual shoulder against the doorframe, and found his thoughts unconsciously drifting back to an easier time, before both his and Peter’s worlds had shattered in the screech of tires and the squeal of twisting metal.

When Tony had first decided to offer Peter a place in the Avengers, he’d be a lot more excited than he’d ever admit to anyone. Sometime during the aftermath of the Civil War, Peter had managed to fill a part of the gaping void that the loss of the Avengers had left in his life. The kid offered a distraction and an ever-present reminder that there were still flickers of good left in the world. So when it had come time to design and construct Peter’s room, Tony had, much to practically everyone’s surprise, done it all himself.

At first, he’d wanted to go all out. His original plans had included a swimming pool, a ball pit, a game room, and a personal lab. After showing these plans to Pepper, however, he had found himself rethinking them altogether.

In the end, he’d settled on turning one of the guest bedrooms in his wing of the Compound into a room for the kid. After all, Peter was used to living in a tiny apartment. Having too much space might overwhelm him. Putting him right at the epicenter of Tony’s world also meant that it would be incredibly easy for the billionaire to keep an eye on him.

The walls, floor, and ceiling were all a basic charcoal gray, but Tony had gone wild on the decorations. Star Wars posters hung on nearly every wall. A vintage Pac-Man arcade machine sat in a corner, surrounded by shelves boasting a formidable collection of unopened Lego sets and gaming cartridges for the Nintendo 64 Tony had found and personally refurbished. The dresser that sat at the foot of the bed was outfitted with a state of the art TV that would emerge at the touch of a button located on the nightstand. Tony had put together a personal library of what he imagined were Peter’s favorite movies and TV shows, although the kid would obviously have access to all of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s archives.

Except for the porn. Tony had definitely, explicitly, unwaveringly told the AI to block the porn.

In the end, however, Tony was the most proud of what he lovingly called the Nerd Cube.

About a quarter of Peter’s room was walled off. To an unknowing observer, that section seemed to have no entrance. It was just a useless piece of space.

To one side of the cube, however, there was a small, raised square that acted as a biometric entry system. All Peter had to do was touch the sensor and a hidden panel would slide away to reveal a doorway. Once he was inside, the panel would slot back into place as if it had never been opened at all. From there, the magic really started to happen.

The walls weren’t really walls at all. They were massive touch screens that flowed seamlessly around the corners and into the ceiling. In the center of the room was a large, ovular worktable. Tony had modeled it after his own, placing hologram capabilities and a host of other goodies into its surface. The entire room was wired into the Stark archives, giving Peter access to almost any blueprint or project that Tony, or his father, had ever created. He’d also programmed Karen into the cube, since Peter seemed to have grown so fond of her. She had strict instructions, of course, to prevent Peter from messing around with anything too dangerous. Under her careful guidance, however, the kid had the resources to work on any project he could possibly dream of. Two of the corners were occupied by triangular desks, one of which was outfitted for schoolwork while the other was specifically designed for upgrading and repairing the Spider-Man suit. Large storage cabinets sat in the other two corners, nearly bursting with supplies, tools, and tech for Peter to tinker with to his nerdy little heart’s content.

Hell, even Tony was a little jealous of how awesome the Nerd Cube was.

He’d briefly introduced Peter to the cube only a week before May had been killed. At the time, he thought the kid would explode from excitement at the prospect of working in it.

It was the sudden remembrance of the fact that Peter had barely even shot the cube a glance since moving into the Compound that jolted Tony back into the present.

 “Hey, Peter.” Tony sat down at the edge of the teenager’s bed, purposefully averting his eyes from the Nerd Cube and placing a gentle hand on the kid’s shoulder through the blankets. “You need to get up now, kiddo.”

The teenager shifted, forehead creasing, and Tony was greeted instantly by a sniffle.

It said a lot about the last few days that the billionaire wasn’t even surprised.

“I know, kid.” Tony whispered. “I know it sucks. And I’m sorry. But you have to do this. You have to face it.”

“I-I know.”

“Good. Then get up. I’m making French toast.”

He left with one last pat on Peter’s hip, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. to make sure the teenager actually got up as soon as he closed the bedroom’s door behind him.

Tony had just finished his first batch of French toast when Peter came wandering in, hair damp from the shower and dressed in sweats.

“Morning, kid. Take a seat. You’ve got great timing.”

“I don’t really want to eat anything.”

“Do I look like I care?”

Peter stuck his tongue out at his mentor before sobering suddenly, folding in on himself like a broken marionette.

Tony just sighed. Peter had been doing a lot of that over the past few days. He’d briefly let himself fall back into some semblance of happiness and normality and then snatch himself back as soon as he realized what he’d done. Everything Tony read indicated that the behavior was normal, but it didn’t do anything to lessen how awful it was to watch.

As soon as Peter finished his food, Tony steeled himself.

“Alright, buddy. Did you see your suit earlier? It should be hanging up in your closet, near the back.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s about time to go throw that on. We have to leave in about an hour.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No.”

Sometimes, talking to Peter felt like pulling teeth. In fact, Tony thinks he might prefer it.

“Alright. I’m gonna go change, too. But I’ll meet you out here in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay.” Peter slithered off of his stool, heading towards his room with his eyes trained doggedly onto the floor.

All Tony could do was try to ignore the way his heart contracted painfully at the sight as he headed to put his own suit on.

He wasn’t surprised that he made it out to the living room before Peter. And when the kid did wander through the entryway, Tony had to smother a grin.

His suit jacket was unbuttoned and his cuffs were undone, with the kid clutching the box holding the cufflinks against his chest. His tie was hanging loosely, completely untied, around his neck.

He looked adorably young, like a child who had played dress up in his dad’s closet. Not that Tony would ever admit to thinking that, of course.

Goddamn it. How was it that this kid made him go all soft and gooey?

“I-I don’t know how to do any of this.”

Tony let himself laugh. “Yeah, I can see that. C’mere, kiddo. It’s time for your first life lesson with Tony.”

Peter obeyed, coming to stand directly in front of his mentor. The older man tugged the cufflinks out of Peter’s hands, reaching out to grip one of his wrists gently.

“See these holes in the cuffs? You just slip these through,” Tony demonstrated, letting his fingers brush comfortingly against Peter’s pulse point as he did so, “and flip the bar. It’s pretty simple, once you know what you’re doing.”

Peter stared up at him with a look that Tony couldn’t decipher. He found himself fidgeting uncomfortably under its intensity.

“You wanna try the second one?”

It took the kid three attempts, but he eventually managed to fumble the cufflink into place.

“There you go. You’re one step closer to being a man. Do you want to learn the tie today, or should we save that for another time?”

“Later.”

Tony nodded. “Alright, that’s fine. Hold still.”

He did up Peter’s tie slowly, trying to forget the fact that he didn’t have a single memory of his dad doing the same for him.

“There ya go, kiddie.” He buttoned up Peter’s suit jacket and gave the tie one last adjustment before shifting to step away.

Before he could do so, however, he found himself holding an armful of emotional teenager.

“Thank you.” Peter whispered, burying his face into Tony’s shoulder as the billionaire’s arms unconsciously moved to return the embrace.

Over the past few days, Tony found himself growing surprisingly comfortable with Peter’s almost continuous need for physical affection. Usually, he flinched away from touch. Hell, even Rhodey, who had known him for years, knew that Tony could only handle the occasional shoulder pat. Hugs were reserved solely for life or death situations.

But Peter was different. In fact, Tony realized that he was starting to find comfort in the kid’s steady stream of hugs and brushes.

Which was… disconcerting, to say the least.

“Don’t sweat it, kid.” He murmured, turning his face into Peter’s hair. “I know you miss her.”

Suddenly, Peter ripped himself away. Tony was surprised to see anger glinting in his usually compassionate eyes.

“I hate her.”

Tony flinched back, finding himself caught completely off guard by the venom in the kid’s voice.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No. You really don’t.”

Tony watched as every ounce of anger rushed out of Peter on his next exhale. “No. I don’t.”

The billionaire just nodded, waiting patiently for the kid to continue.

“I just-” Peter took a shuddering breath, pounding his fist angrily into his thigh, “I’m so angry. At her. At me. At everyone. And I know it’s wrong. And I know it’s unfair. But I am.”

“And it makes you feel like shit. I know.” Tony paused, thinking his next words over carefully. “But it’s okay. And it’s okay to let it go, too.”

Peter nodded, blinking furiously against the wetness gathering behind his eyes. “I don’t want to bury her. I don’t want to let her go.”

“I know.”

“But I have to, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do.”

And right before his eyes, Tony watched the kid pick up every single one of his broken pieces and fashion them into armor.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

--

Peter held himself together throughout the funeral by sheer force of will.

Frankly, Tony found it pretty damn amazing.

Well-wishers smothered the kid with apologies and stories of just how wonderful May had been as if he, her nephew, didn’t know that already. If Tony had been in Peter’s position, he would have started throwing punches within the first ten minutes.

And yet the teenager handled everything with a grimly poised determination that Tony found awe-inspiring. He thanked people for their sentiments, listened patiently to their thoughts, and stiffly accepted every hug and condolence they threw his way.

By the end, however, Tony could see the kid start to crack. He didn’t cry as they lowered May’s casket into the grave, but he did shake. Tiny trembles that raced up his spine and made him grit his teeth painfully. All the billionaire could do was keep his hand anchored firmly on Peter’s elbow and hope that the kid could hold it together long enough for Tony to get them back to the car.

The second that the crowd started to disperse, Tony hauled Peter away. In hindsight, he probably should have asked the kid if he wanted to stay and do that post-funeral grieving-at-the-grave shit, but he didn’t.

Frankly, he didn’t think Peter even noticed.

Tony briefly considered heading back to the Tower rather than making the nearly three hour drive back to the Compound, but ultimately decided against it. Peter had turned their stargazing escapades into a nightly occurrence, and it was during these excursions that he really started to come out of his shell. Tony would drive twelve hours if it meant the kid wouldn’t have to lose that.

There would be the obvious issue of Peter’s school, eventually. There was no way Tony could ship the kid three hours away every single weekday so he could keep attending Midtown. Either Peter would have to be homeschooled, which was a viable option, considering the fact that Vision was a walking computer and could probably teach the kid everything he needed to know in half the time of a regular professor, or they’d have to move back to the city. Luckily, Tony had managed to bribe the kid’s school into placing Peter on homebound until after Christmas break. It gave them a little room to breathe, at least for the time being.

He let Peter sit quietly on the drive home. By the time they pulled up to the Compound’s front steps, the sun had set. In some unspoken agreement, Tony and Peter both headed straight for the roof, still dressed in their suits.

“So,” Tony started, pulling off his tie dramatically as the elevator ascended, “that’s done.”

And, yeah, maybe it wasn’t the most tactful thing to say.

Peter looked at him for a second, and let out a defeated breath. With it, Tony could see every ounce of determination that had held the kid together during the funeral evaporate. “Yeah.”

The door slid open, and the pair headed for what had become “their” spot. Over the past few nights, they’d gathered a collection of blankets and pillows and used them to create a pretty cozy stargazing setup. Tony sat down on his go-to pillow with a sigh.

“You did good, kid.” Tony praised, watching Peter curl up beside him. “I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

Peter was quiet for a moment, eyes trained upwards. “What happened with the Avengers? You never really told me.”

Tony started. Of all the things he had expected the kid to ask, it hadn’t been that.

“We… disagreed.”

“About the Accords?”

“Yeah.”

“And that disagreement required destroying an airport?”

Well, that was a little blunt. “That wasn’t particularly the plan, kid.”

Peter turned to face his mentor, and it felt like he was staring right through him. “What about Siberia?”

Tony felt blood rush to his face. Static raced through his hands and all he could hear was the steady thrumthrumthrum of his heart racing and the erratically wheezing whooshwhooshwhoosh of his lungs gasping because Steve was going to kill him and the last thing he’d ever see was-

“Tony?”

He took a shuddering breath, clawing his way back to reality. He wasn’t in Siberia. He was sitting on a roof, curled up under a ridiculous amount of blankets next to Peter.

And Steve was gone.

“It’s complicated.”

“Yeah? May used to say that when she didn’t want to tell me something, too.”

Tony smirked. “She was a smart woman.”

“Yeah, she was.”

They lapsed into silence for a few breaths, each one of them lost in their own thoughts.

“Why do you want to know?”

This time, it was Peter’s turn to jolt with surprise. “About Siberia?”

“Yeah.”

“Because…” Tony could watch the wheels grinding in Peter’s head as he cautiously selected each word. “Because when you came back, something… something was broken. Inside you, I mean. But you fixed it. And I’ve got something broken inside of me, too. If I knew how you fixed it, maybe…”

“Maybe you can fix what’s wrong with you.”

“Exactly.”

Tony looked at the kid for a second, gauging what his next move should be.

In the end, he settled on honesty.

“First of all, there isn’t anything wrong with you, Peter.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Tony tapped his fingers against the cool surface of the roof in agitation. “Do you remember the Winter Soldier?”

“The guy with the metal arm?”

“That would be the one.”

“Yeah, I remember him.”

“His name was Bucky Barnes, once.”

Peter’s eyes widened comically and his mouth dropped open. “No way.”

“Way.” Tony responded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the serious topic at the reminder of Peter’s youthful innocence. “I take it you know who that is.”

“Um, yeah!” Peter exclaimed, hands jerking up to emote in the air. “I mean, he’s a legend. They-they made comics about his and Cap’s adventures. I had all of them. They were, like, a power duo. Two best friends, taking down Nazis and stuff. But… but he died, didn’t he?”

“We thought so.” Suddenly, Tony found that his lap was terribly interesting to look at. “But he didn’t. He was captured by Hydra, and they brainwashed him. Turned him into the perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. They used him for years.”

“That’s… that’s insane. But, and no offense, Mister Stark, but what does this have to do with Siberia?”

Here we go, Tony thought.

“Do you know how my parents died?”

Peter looked completely blindsided by the sudden change of subject. “It… it was a car accident, right?”

“Sort of.” Deep breaths. Deep breaths. “The Winter Soldier killed them. He forced their car off the road, and then he killed them.”

Tony felt his hand clench into a fist.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

The kid didn’t say anything. He just stared at his mentor with horror shining in his eyes.

“And Steve,” Tony was immensely proud that he kept his voice from shaking, “Steve knew. He knew all along, and he didn’t tell me.”

“Is... is he the one who beat you up?”

Tony sighed. “I didn’t realize that you noticed that.”

A bitter laugh leapt out of Peter’s mouth, and Tony decided that he never wanted to hear such a harsh sound from that kid ever again. “You looked like shit, Mister Stark. No offense, but it wasn’t hard to spot.”

“I guess not.” Tony noticed that Peter was tugging uncomfortably at his tie. For some reason, instead of just telling the kid to just take the damn thing off, he reached forward and started to undo it himself. “But I gave as good as I got.”

Peter reached up to grip Tony’s wrists, stilling his hands. “And you’ll never make up?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I’m working on getting them all pardons as we speak, including Steve and… and his friend.”

He couldn’t make himself say the name.

“That’s not the same thing.”

Damn this kid and his emotional intelligence. “I don’t know, kid. But I’m going to try. Guess that’s the only thing any of us can do, huh?”

Peter released his hold on Tony’s cuffs, and the older man gently slid the tie over Peter’s head before unbuttoning his too-stiff collar.

“Better?” He questioned.

“Yeah.” Peter shifted nervously for a second. “So how did you do it? How’d you get better?”

Right. The kid had only asked about Siberia because he wanted Tony’s advice on how to “fix” himself.

Because Tony Stark was really known for his healthy coping mechanisms.

“That’s a good question, kiddo.” He paused, unsure of whether to say his next words or not. “You’re helping.”

“Me?”

“You.”

“Oh.”

The silence stretched on for so long that Tony assumed their conversation was over. Then, Peter’s soft voice caught his attention.

“You’re helping me too, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Maybe this is what a family looks like. Tony thought. A really fucked up family, sure, but a family all the same.

And for the first time since it happened, Siberia seemed like a distant memory.

Chapter Text

Peter couldn’t breathe.

There was dust in his lungs and dirt in his mouth and rubble on his back and he couldn’t fucking breathe.

He could feel his broken ribs grating as he moved and he could hear water dripping through the crumbled concrete and oh my god a pipe must have blown and if the water kept rising he was going to drown before someone could find him and he couldn’t breathe.

He was going to die. Peter Parker was going to die and no one was going to save him because he didn’t matter. He couldn’t save his aunt and he couldn’t save himself. He was nothing. They’d find his body and peg him as a Spider-Man wannabe and everyone would forget him because Peter Parker didn’t matter. Peter Parker was nothing.

(Please, this is all I have! I'm nothing without this suit!)

Oh my god. He couldn’t breathe.

 “Peter!”

Someone came, Peter thought, and the realization just made him sob harder, someone came.

But… but that couldn’t be right.

No one came. He knew that. He knew that because he’d lived this already. Hadn’t he lived this already? But he was living it now, too.

He couldn’t breathe.

No one came. No one came. No one came.

She was dead. She was dead. She was dead.

He failed. He failed. He failed.

He failed her.

He couldn’t breathe.

(I'm down here. I'm stuck. I'm stuck. I can't move. I can't-)

“Peter! Listen to me, kid. You’re having a nightmare.”

That was Tony. No, no, no, no, no. Tony couldn’t be here. He was going to take his suit away. Peter needed his suit. He was nothing without his suit. He was nothing without Spider-Man.

If he didn’t have his suit, he couldn’t save May.

No, that wasn’t right, either. May was dead.

May was dead because Peter Parker was nothing. May was dead because Peter Parker had failed.

 (If you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it.)

He was nothing. He was nothing. He was nothing.

He couldn’t save his aunt and he couldn’t save himself.

Peter Parker didn’t matter.

Peter Parker didn’t matter and Peter Parker couldn’t breathe. His chest was too tight because his lungs were full of dust and gravel and rubble and regret and he had felt his ribs give way with a series of haunting snicks when the building had fallen and he was dying.

Just like Aunt May had.

Dying. Dying. Dying.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Help! Please, help me!”

“I’m trying, squirt.”

That was Tony again. Where was he?  Why wasn’t he helping him?

Why didn’t he save her?

Please, he thinks, please help me Tony. Please help me. I know you’re mad about the ferry and I know I’m nothing and I know that I failed her but I can’t breathe and I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.

(And I wanted you to be better.)

“Sorry about this, kid.”

A sharp sting across his face sent his eyes snapping open.

And he wasn’t stuck under the rubble. He was in his room in the Avenger’s Compound. And he wasn’t alone. Tony was on the bed in front of him, brows furrowed with worry and hands clutching his shoulders. And his aunt wasn’t-

And his aunt was still dead.

“Tony.”

His mentor smiled, relieved to see Peter recognize his surroundings.

“Hey, kiddo. You back with me?”

“Yeah.” He gasped, realizing that he was drenched in sweat. “Yeah, I think so.”

He was back. He was never even there. It was just a memory. An echo of a nightmare escaped. He knew that now. So why was he still hyperventilating? He could feel his lungs gasping at their own rate, completely oblivious to the fact that they were safe and Tony was here and it was just a dream.

But it wasn’t just a dream, because she was still dead. He couldn’t save his aunt but he did save himself.

Somehow, that was even worse.

“I-” Peter stuttered, trying to force the words past the vice curling around his throat. “I-I can’t…”

Tony understood. Tony always understood.

“I got it, kid.” Tony reached out, pulling Peter into his arms and cradling the teenager so that his head was pressed against the older man’s chest. “Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that. Breathe with me.”

“I can’t.” Peter whined, because it was true. Logically, he knew that he could breathe. He knew that he wasn’t under the rubble anymore. He knew that he was safe. But he still couldn’t breathe because she was dead.

“Yes, you can.” Tony said gently, rocking them back and forth. “If you’re talking, you can breathe.”

“How do I-” Peter choked off, lack of oxygen making his head spin. “How do I do this?”

“By surviving.” Tony whispered. “Just focus on surviving for five seconds at a time. Then, go for five more seconds. After that, push through five more. Before you know it, you’re okay. You’re through it.”

And so Peter survived.

1
He could smell grit and ash and coppery blood. His blood. Her blood. But he could also smell motor oil and cologne and aftershave. Tony.

2
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe and she was dead.

3
It was over. He wasn’t there. The rubble and the pipes and the aching ribs were just echoes. They were echoes. They were echoes.

4
Tony was here. Aunt May wasn’t. Tony would protect him. Aunt May never would again. But Tony was here. Tony was here. Tony was here.

5
Five seconds. Survive for five seconds.

1
Then do it again.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, listening to Tony’s rhythmic breathing and pulsing heart and counting through the squeals of collapsing metal and the taste of death and ash. Eventually, however, he felt his own heart rate steady and the crushing pressure on his chest ease. The echoes faded away. His muscles relaxed, arms loosening from where they had been wrapped around Tony and head slipping foreword against his mentor’s chest.

He could breathe.

Aunt May was gone. But Tony was here.

He could breathe and he was exhausted.

“Better?” Tony asked, voice taking on that gentle tone that was reserved solely for Peter.

“Better.” Peter whispered, fatigue making the syllables soft and round on his tongue.

Tony tilted Peter away from his chest and looked down at his half-mast eyelids and tear-soaked face with a soft frown. He slid his sleeve over his hand and reached up, wiping Peter’s cheeks dry with a tenderness that made the boy’s heart swell with warmth.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He knew he should. He knew it would help. But he really didn’t want to have another panic attack tonight. His body was starting to tremble as he came down from the adrenalin and he felt like crying all over again.

Aunt May was gone. But Tony was here.

He just wanted to sleep.

“Hey,” Tony whispered, noticing Peter’s agitation, “we can do the talking in the morning. You just wanna sleep this off first?”

Peter nodded, and found himself lacking the strength to pick his head back up again. Instead, he just let his chin rest on his chest. It wasn’t comfortable, but he was far too exhausted to care.

“Whoa, there, kiddo.” Tony grabbed Peter’s chin and tilted it up, releasing the strain on the teenager’s neck. “How about we lie down before passing out, huh?”

“Hmm. M’kay.”

Peter reluctantly pulled away from Tony’s arms, slumping back against his pillows in a tangle of boneless limbs. The loss of his mentor’s warmth made a chill run through his veins. Tony reached foreword and pulled Peter’s sheets up to his chin.

“Are you tucking me in?”

“You got a problem with that, punk?”

Peter rolled his eyes, but sobered suddenly when Tony shifted his weight as if to stand.

“Stay.” His small voice squeaked across the room before he could stop himself.

Tony looked at Peter for a moment, something warm and tender passing across his features. “I’m not leaving. I’m just gonna go sit on the other side of the bed, okay?” He gestured to the unoccupied half of the sheets.

“Oh, right, yeah.”

Peter felt his cheeks flushing. Tony Stark had better things to do than sitting up with a teenage kid because he had a bad dream.

And yet Peter couldn’t bring himself to tell the man to go.

Once Tony had resettled himself, Peter sank back into his pillows. He stared at the ceiling, sleep evading him. Hadn’t he just been exhausted?

“Is sleeping with your eyes open one of your freaky spider powers? Cause if so, that’s awesome and I’m insulted you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“It’s not.”

“I thought not. Close your eyes, Peter.”

“Okay.”

He kept staring at the ceiling.

He heard Tony sigh, and then a calloused hand brushed over his forehead and down his face, forcing his eyelids shut. Then it just sat there, acting as a blindfold and casting Peter’s world into complete darkness.

Tony’s thumb started rubbing back and forth across Peter temple and the comforting rhythm, coupled with the fact that his eyes being closed seemed to bring all of his previous exhaustion rushing back, soon had Peter drifting off.

As he was teetering right on the edge of nothingness, he heard Tony whisper something. If he hadn’t had super hearing, he might have missed it.

“Merry Christmas, Peter.”

Oh right, Peter thought, it’s Christmas.

He was asleep before he could think anything else.

--

Morning came far too quickly for Peter’s liking.

He woke to sunlight steaming across his face, and pulled an arm over his eyes with a moan which quickly morphed into a yawn.

A laugh sounded beside him.

“Morning, kiddie.”

“What time is it?” Peter groaned.

“Noon. You’ve been sleeping for about eleven hours. You training for a gold medal in unconsciousness?”

He pulled his arm away from his face and blinked over at Tony in amusement and surprise.

“I didn’t wake up?”

“Not once.”

“Huh.”

“I take it sleeping through the night isn’t a part of your usual routine.”

“Not usually, no.”

“Sounds healthy. We’re gonna have to change that, you know.”

Peter cringed.

“Aren’t you, like, the god of insomnia?”

“Do as I say, not as I do, kiddo.”

Peter just snickered, and then blinked blearily around the room, struggling to shake off the last vestiges of sleep.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting Peter take his time in rejoining the land of consciousness. Finally, Tony spoke.

“It’s now or never, kid.”

Peter took a deep breath.

“Do you… do you remember my Homecoming night?”

Tony’s face darkened. “You mean when you fought a guy in a wing suit, crashed my plane, and nearly died? I think it’s pretty impossible to forget. You should believe me on that, by the way, because I’ve tried.”

“Right. Yeah. Not my best moment. Well, I, sort of, went after Toomes before the plane, too. Like, earlier in the night. He was in a, uh, a big warehouse. Ned helped me track him there. It had big supports and stuff. Like, you know those tall columns in parking garages?”

“Not sure the architecture is all that important, kiddo.”

“No, no, see, it is.” Peter said, his voice bordering on hysterical. “It is.”

“Okay,” Tony raised his hands in a placating gesture, “so the building has supports in it.”

“Had supports. It had supports.”

A look of pure horror dawned on Tony’s face.

“Peter,” he breathed, “tell me he didn’t…”

Peter plunged forward, ignoring his mentor’s alarm. He knew that if he didn’t say it now, he never would.

“He brought his, uh, wing suit, out, but, like, he wasn’t wearing it. It worked on its own, like your Iron Man suits do sometimes. And I thought it was attacking me, so I just jumped out of the way. But it was just… it was too easy, but I didn’t realize that until it was too late, you know? And it was just taking out the supports and then it… god Tony, it fell. The building fell. On top of me. And I couldn’t breathe, because there was rubble on my back and my ribs snapped when a big chunk fell and it hurt so much and there was so much dust that it was in my mouth and my eyes and my nose and oh my god.”

He didn’t even realize he was hyperventilating again until Tony’s voice cut through his panicked stuttering.

“Breathe, Peter.” Tony murmured, moving the teenager’s hand to rest against his own chest. “You know the drill. Match your breaths to mine.”

It was easier to come back to himself this time. He managed to zero in on the rise and fall of Tony’s breath under his palm and put all of his focus into breathing in sync with the older man. Eventually, the dizziness eased and he could think clearer.

When Tony could see that Peter had calmed down, he cleared his throat nervously.

“How did you get out?”

Peter looked up at him with wide, shining eyes.

“I lifted it.”

“You lifted the ruined remains of a concrete building?”

“I had to.”

Tony just stared, and then his face crumbled.

“Oh, Peter,” Tony whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Peter started. “What are you apologizing for?”

“If you’d had your suit, it would have notified me the moment you were in danger. You wouldn’t have had to do that alone. You shouldn’t have had to do that alone.”

“I don’t blame you.” Peter whispered, catching Tony’s eyes and trying to pour all his intensity into the gaze. “Toomes knocked the building on me. You didn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

Tony smiled sadly.

“You’re a good kid. You know that, right?”

Peter smiled.

“You’re a good person. You know that, right?”

There was a brief moment where the two of them just stared at each other.

“Come here, Peter.” Tony said gruffly, pulling the teenager into his arms and resting his chin against the boy’s tangle of brown hair.

“Thank you.” Peter whispered. “For everything.”

“Right back at you, kiddo.”

Aunt May was gone. But Tony was here.

Peter breathed.

--

“So,” Tony said, pulling away from the kid and giving him the most charismatic smile he could muster, “Christmas.”

Peter laughed, smoothing out his hair with an errant hand. “Yeah, Christmas.”

“Now, I’ve got something to tell you, but you’ve gotta keep it in confidence, okay?” Tony leaned in, glancing around conspiratorially before stage whispering his next words. “I think Santa might have come.”

The irritated look that Peter shot his mentor was totally worth how hard Tony was having to work to keep a straight face.

“I’m fifteen, not five, Tony.”

The billionaire feigned shock. “You don’t believe good ole’ Saint Nicholas? I’m scandalized.”

“I hate you.”

“I’d wait until after you open your Christmas presents to say that, squirt.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “You-you got me Christmas presents?”

Jesus Christ. Sometimes, this kid was just too precious for words. “Of course I did.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Mister Stark. You-you already let me live here and you feed me and you bought me new shoes, too, which was so nice of you and so you definitely didn’t have to-”

“Kid? Do yourself a favor and shut up for a second.”

Tony could hear the audible click of Peter’s teeth snapping together.

“I’m your guardian. It’s not just my job to take care of you, but it’s also something I want to do. Capisce?”

Peter blushed, and picked absently at his bed sheets. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good!” Tony clapped his hands together and leapt to his feet. “C’mon. I ordered from that little pizza place you love.”

The kid, bless him, just blinked stupidly. “It’s Christmas Day.”

“Holy shit. Good job, kid. I knew we sent you to that genius school for a reason.”

Much to Tony’s disappointment, the kid didn’t rise to the bait. “How the hell did you get a pizza place to deliver on Christmas Day?”

“I’m Tony Stark.” He said, declaring it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right. Of course.” Peter rolled his eyes dramatically as he followed the older man out of the room. “How could I forget?”

“Has your awe finally worn off?” Tony smirked as he entered the living room, practically skipping with excitement in anticipation of Peter seeing the decorations that had materialized overnight. “Should I be concerned?”

“Y’know, now that you say-”

Peter stopped dead. When Tony spun to smile widely at him, the kid’s mouth was hanging open.

Perfect.

“I told you that Santa came, and you didn’t believe me.”

“Tony-”

“Do you think that means there’s coal in your stocking?”

“Tony-”

“Do little boys who don’t believe in Santa even get presents?”

“Tony.”

“Yeah, kid?”

Peter paused, and the life shining in his eyes made the billionaire’s heart skip a beat.

“I just… Merry Christmas.”

For a second, Tony just let himself soak in the smile on the teenager’s face.

“Merry Christmas, kid.”

Chapter Text

The decorations were amazing.

When Peter imagined Christmas in a mansion, he thought of everything being traditional and conservative. Tony, however, evidently did not.

It looked like a Lowes holiday section had thrown up in the living room.

Bright, sparkly garland and multicolored lights were wrapped around almost every available surface. The garlands caught even the most meager ray of sunshine and lit up the room in shades of red, gold, and green. An array of stockings hung from the fireplace, and Peter found himself snickering at the sight of his and Tony’s stocking holders, which were Spider-Man and Iron Man themed. Everywhere he looked, Peter saw color and vibrancy. It seemed impossible to feel anything other than happiness when he was surrounded by so much exuberance.

He guessed that that was Tony’s whole point.

The tree was enormous. Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything so massive in his entire life. The ornaments were an eclectic mix of obviously expensive glass pieces, cheap spheres that Peter was pretty sure came from Wal-Mart, and an assortment of singular ornaments that were obviously family heirlooms. Peter even noticed that some of them looked handmade.

“You like the tree?” Tony asked, a grin still plastered on his face. “I had to make Vision put the star on, it was so tall.”

“Yeah! It’s awesome!”

“Hopefully the presents underneath it’ll be even more awesome.” Tony teased. “But first, breakfast. The pizza’s on the coffee table.”

Peter vaulted over one of the couches in his haste to get to the aforementioned pizza. He could practically feel Tony rolling his eyes behind him.

“Do you have any consideration for the actual purpose of this furniture? We’re not on a playground.”

“Any ground is technically a playground if you play on it.”

“I bet you think you’re really clever for that one, don’t you?”

Peter just smirked around his second piece of pizza. Man, he forgot how good this place was. “I am really clever.”

“Unfortunately.”

The pair continued their bickering as they ate, and it all felt so comfortable. Peter found himself wondering just when Tony had started feeling like family. He still hadn’t lost that little glimmer of hero worship, but it was overshadowed by a feeling of something else that Peter couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that made his emotions glow with pulses of contentment and safety.

“Alright, human garbage disposal,” Tony declared once Peter had devoured an entire large pizza by himself, “time to open your presents.”

Peter felt equal parts excitement and embarrassment rise up inside him at the comment. He briefly thought about reiterating how unnecessary the presents were, but he knew that Tony would just brush it off and scold him for being ridiculous.

He followed his mentor cautiously over to the tree, and couldn’t stop the way his mouth just naturally dropped open at the array of presents stacked underneath it.

“Mister Stark!” He exclaimed, awestruck. “This is- wow! There are so many!”

The older man stared at him for a second, amusement coloring his features. “Peter. There’s only ten presents there.”

“Which is a lot. I mean, that’s ten whole presents!”

Tony laughed. “Well, you can thank Rhodey, Vision, Pepper, Happy, and your friend Ned for about half of them. The rest are from me, of course.”

“Wow.”

The next thing Peter knew, Tony was shoving the first present into his hands. “Go on. This is Ned’s.”

Peter tore into the wrapping paper excitedly, grinning broadly when he uncovered the gift. It was a new set of D&D dice.

Tony craned his neck to take a look at the present, and started smirking when he recognized what it was. “You play Dungeons and Dragons?”

Peter felt a flush illuminate his cheeks. “Yeah, well, I mean… yeah.”

“Whoa there, buckaroo. Don’t get all hot and bothered. I’m not judging. It’d be a little hypocritical, anyway.”

Peter felt his eyes widen. “You played D&D?”

“When I was your age, sure. You’re not the only geek around here, kiddo.”

Tony Stark had played D&D. Man, that was so awesome.

A few minutes later, and Peter found himself surrounded by a growing circle of gifts. Rhodey had gotten him an insanely nice, and no doubt expensive, backpack. Inside, the Colonel had shoved a set of cufflinks that were engraved with Peter’s first initial. He felt a brief pang of sadness as he recalled his last encounter with a set of cufflinks, but quickly pushed it away. May wouldn’t have wanted him to spend Christmas wallowing in a pit of his grief. She’d want him to open his presents and smile.

So he did.

Vision had gotten him a book on computer programming. Tony had rolled his eyes and apologized for what he declared was “the lamest gift he’d ever seen,” but Peter had found himself flicking through the pages and excitedly considering all the things he could do with Karen once he learned just a little more advanced coding.

Happy’s present was a pair of noise cancelling headphones.

“He told me to remind you that you’re free to use them whenever he drives you anywhere as a replacement for talking to him.” Tony had declared, obviously amused, once Peter had unwrapped the box. “But, between you and me, I think he’d miss it.”

Pepper’s present had nearly sent him drowning under a second wave of missing May. She’d gotten him a brand new suit. Apparently, Tony had given her his measurements.

“She wanted you to have one that didn’t have such… unfortunate connotations.” His mentor had said, looking nervous.

“Oh.” For a moment, Peter was silent, struggling to wrestle his grief back under control. “Well, I’ll have to thank her.”

He’d plowed onward, then, determined to distract himself with Tony’s presents, all of which he’d saved for last.

The first gift was a stargazing guide, which had Peter beaming up at the older man. Their nightly excursions to the roof had given him a comforting routine. They were something he could cling to when his grief threatened to sweep him away. Obviously, Tony had recognized that.

He couldn’t stop himself from stuttering about how unnecessary both the laptop and the StarkPhone, complete with Karen and other customizations, were. Tony just waved him off.

“I can’t have you running around using an Android.” The billionaire cringed. “And your laptop is literally being held together by duct tape. It’s just sad. Take them, will you? For my sake, at the very least.”

The experience of unwrapping the box of condoms ranked in the top five of Peter’s most embarrassing life moments. And he’d had a lot of them.

“M-Mister Stark!” Peter couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hide the box under the mass of wrapping paper to his right or fling them at his mentor in retaliation. “W-why did you- I don’t need- I can’t- Mister Stark!”

Tony, meanwhile, was laughing so hard that tears were threatening to spill from the corners of his crinkled eyes. “Take a breath, Peter. You might thank me for those one day.”

Then he winked.

Peter wanted to die.

Thankfully, there was one more gift for the teenager to snatch up and busy himself with while his mentor’s howls of mirth died down.

It was a watch.

“Oh, thank you, Mister Stark.” Peter said politely. “But, I, uh, I have a watch already, you know.”

The older man raised his eyebrow in the way that only Tony Stark could. “It’s not just any watch. See that little button on the side? You press it once and the watch instantly starts recording all audio around you and tracks your location. If you don’t re-press it in the next fifteen minutes, F.R.I.D.A.Y. will let me know you’re in trouble. Press it twice, and it’s the same deal, except I get an alert instantly. You press it three times, and it activates a Code Red that requires all the remaining Avengers to assemble. It monitors your vitals, too. If anything goes wacky, I’ll know about it.”

“Wow.”

“Yup.” Tony said, popping the ‘p’ dramatically. “So, I expect you to wear it at all times. Even in the shower. It’s waterproof.”

“T-thank you, Mister Stark.” Peter couldn’t stop the feeling of warmth that blossomed in his stomach at the thought of his guardian putting so much thought into a gadget designed entirely to keep him safe.

“You just make sure you never have to use it for anything other than telling the time, okay?” There was a serious edge to his mentor’s voice.

“I’ll try.”

He got a decisive nod in return. “Good. Now, I looked up a list of things to do with kids on Christmas Day, and baking cookies popped up. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never baked a batch of cookies in the entire course of my life, so this is definitely going to be a disaster.”

Peter laughed, and it occurred to him that he was happy.

And for the first time in a month, the realization didn’t make him sad.

--

He had been right. Their cookie baking adventure was a disaster.

But Tony loved every second of it.

They were mixing the dry ingredients when Peter’s eyes lit up with mischief. Before Tony could react, the kid had dipped a finger into the bowl and smeared a line of flour across his mentor’s cheek.

“Peter!”

“What?” The kid asked, looking as innocent as possible while trying to smother a grin. “My hand slipped.”

“Oh, really?” Without thinking, Tony grabbed a handful of flour from the bag and tossed it into Peter’s hair, running his fingers through the curls to make sure not a single lock was spared from the powder.

Peter laughed. It was an open, honest, uncensored laugh that echoed through the kitchen. It struck Tony that it was the first time he had heard the kid laugh like that since May’s death.

And if it took a food fight to make him do it again, Tony would buy up a damn grocery store.

He grabbed another handful of flour at the same moment Peter did.

“You’re going down, old man.” The teenager joked, quickly hopping over the kitchen island to find a more defensible location.

“At least I’m not still in diapers.”

“I don’t know. They make them for people your age, too, so you’re probably not that far out from it.”

This kid was going to be the death of him. And he was going to love every single minute of it.

“When did you get an attitude?” He asked, ducking behind the island to avoid a mass of sugar aimed at his face. He slid subtly closer to the right corner of the counter. He could just see a sliver of Peter’s sweatshirt, which the teenager had tied around his waist, peeking out from where the kid was taking cover. “Is it my influence? Should I be proud or ashamed?”

Peter just snickered, and Tony took advantage of his momentary distraction to get a fistful of flour into his face.

“Rule two of combat,” the billionaire said, choking back his own laughter as the kid sputtered, “always be on your guard.”

“What’s rule number one?” Peter asked, taking a half step backwards and crouching, exposing even more of his back.

Perfect.

Tony lunged forward, grabbing Peter’s sweatshirt and tugging him backwards. The kid gave a shout of surprise as he tipped off balance. Tony wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist and dragged him to the ground, careful to protectively tuck his chin over the kid’s head, just in case.

“Mister Stark!” Peter gasped, struggling feebly as his guardian used one hand to dump a bag of flour over the kid and the other to hold him in place. Tony knew that the teenager could easily toss him off. He was Spider-Man, for Christ’s sake. But he didn’t. Instead, he let his mentor pin him against his chest and douse the both of them in flour.

“Rule number one: never let the enemy distract you.”

“That’s so unfair!” Once the bag of flour was empty, Tony put the kid in a gentle headlock and started playfully messing with his hair. “Let me go!”

“Do you yield?”

“Excuse me?”

The kid sounded so indignant that Tony had to muffle a laugh against his hair, nearly choking on the flour that had saturated the curls. “Do you yield?”

“No! Stop being stupid! Let go!”

Tony quickly moved his free hand to this kid’s stomach, tickling him mercilessly.

“Do you yield, Peter?”

“Fine!” He gasped out between giggles. “I yield! I yield!”

The billionaire released the kid who, instead of scrambling away like he expected him to, slumped back against Tony’s chest breathlessly.

And that was how Tony Stark found himself on the ground, partially propped up by a kitchen cabinet at his back, covered in flour with a kid flopped on top of him.

It was the best Christmas he could remember having in a long, long time.

“You wanna move this to the couch, or…?” Tony asked after a few minutes. Part of him was loath to break the moment, but the other half knew that his body would not appreciate spending much longer awkwardly pressed against the sharp edges of the cabinet.

“Can we watch Christmas movies?” Peter asked, flipping over so that his chin was resting on Tony’s chest.

“Sure, kid, whatever you want. Now get off.” He gave the kid a tender push, straightening up as soon as he didn’t have the teenager’s weight pinning him down.

Peter dragged his mentor into the living room by his sleeve. Tony briefly considered making the kid change. Both of them were still covered in flour and sugar, after all, but in the end he just shrugged it off. The couch could be cleaned. Besides, Peter looked kind of cute with his hair all mussed up and covered in flour.

The thought caught him off guard, as his thoughts involving Peter often did. He’d found himself feeling more and more… parental regarding the kid as the weeks went on. Alarmingly, he also found himself resisting the concept less and less as well.

Peter just fit so perfectly into his worldview now. When he felt his anxiety spiking, he found himself seeking out Peter for a movie night and popcorn rather than drinking himself into oblivion. In fact, his unhealthy coping mechanisms seemed to be losing quite a lot of their appeal. How could he justify getting blackout drunk when Peter might need him at any moment? He couldn’t do that to the kid.

And so it transpired that Tony had barely even shot the bar a second glance since Peter had moved in.

He settled down on the couch, feeling that familiar wave of parental protectiveness wash over him when Peter plopped down directly against his side rather than choosing one of the many other seats around them.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” Peter asked, oblivious to the thoughts swirling around in Tony’s head. “We can watch that one first.”

The billionaire smiled. “How about we do yours first? I don’t really have a favorite.”

“You don’t?” The kid exclaimed, looking up at Tony with those adorably wide eyes of his. “That’s just sad. We’ll have to watch all the good ones, and then you can choose.”

God, this kid is just too precious for the world.

“Sounds like a deal.” Tony said, sliding an arm over the kid’s shoulders. “So, what’s your favorite, kiddo?”

“A Year Without a Santa Claus.” Peter answered instantly. “The animation is so cool.”

Of course the kid would pick a favorite Christmas movie based off of the animation. “You heard the kid, F.R.I.D.A.Y., play A Year Without a Santa Claus, pronto.”

“On it, Boss.”

They spent the rest of the day in that exact position, with Peter progressively crowding in on Tony’s personal space. If it had been anyone else, he would have dumped them onto the floor hours ago. But because it was Peter, Tony found himself perfectly content to let his human octopus of a kid latch onto him.

“So,” Peter said after they finished their sixth movie. His eyes were drooping and his voice was laced with sleepiness, “what was your favorite?”

“Bad Santa.” Tony whispered, hoping that his quiet tone wouldn’t startle the kid out of his doze. He needed the sleep.

“We didn’ even watch tha’ one.” Peter’s eyes were shut now, but a lazy little smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“No, we didn’t. You’re too young for it, anyway.”

“‘M fifteen.”

“Exactly.”

The kid just hummed in response, tucking himself impossibly closer to his guardian.

Tony let his own head drop back against the cushions, content to fall asleep to the quiet drone of whatever movie F.R.I.D.A.Y. had put on and the sound of Peter’s steady breathing.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the kid’s sleepy voice drifted up to him again.

“I didn’ get you a Christmas present.”

If Tony hadn’t been half asleep, he wouldn’t have said his next words. As it was, though, his filter seemed to have evaporated.

“Watching you have a good day was my present, kid.”

He could feel Peter’s smile since the teenager had, at some point, pressed his face against the older man’s neck.

“Sorry for getting flour all over you.”

Damn it. Tony was so in love with this kid.

“Don’t sweat it, kiddo.”

Chapter Text

In the end, Tony adopting Peter turned out to be the most anti-climactic thing in the world.

He’d thought about making a big deal out of it. Sitting the kid down, giving an emotional speech, and then presenting the papers to him with a dramatic flair.

But somehow, it just didn’t feel right.

Instead, Tony asked the kid on a lazy morning. The sun was sporadically peeking though some lingering storm clouds and the TV was playing Family Feud at such a low volume that it was almost white noise. Tony was buttering the bread for Peter’s grilled cheese and the kid was sitting on a barstool, one leg tucked underneath him, half watching his mentor cook and half watching the sluggish sunlight drift in and out of the windows.

Tony said it before he’d really thought it through.

“Hey, kid, how would you feel about me adopting you?”

There hadn’t been any shocked silence. Peter’s eyes didn’t widen or fill up with tears. Instead, he just glanced at his guardian with a tilted head before his expression quickly morphed into an easy smile.

“Sure.”

And that had been that. Tony had picked up the paperwork from his lawyers the next day and brought it all back to the Compound. He’d gotten Rhodey and Happy be their witnesses but otherwise went to great lengths to keep the whole thing quiet.

Tony wrote his final signature with a flourish. He leaned back onto the couch’s cushions with an air of finality as the four of them just stared at the completed documents that were now resting on the coffee table.

They look so simple, and yet they had just given Tony everything he had ever wanted.

They had given him a family.

“So…” Peter said, voice tentative, “is that it? Am I… yours, now?”

“Yup. You’re all mine. God help me.”

Peter laughed, curling his knees up onto the couch and tucking himself underneath Tony’s outstretched arm. “Cool.”

“Welcome to the family, kid.” Happy said, giving the pair one of his rare smiles.

“Tony’s your responsibility now. I’m tapping out. Good luck.” Rhodey added, reaching forward to ruffle the teenager’s hair.

Peter laughed, leaning his head against his mentor’s (his father’s?) shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him in line.”

“Really?” Happy asked airily. “No one else ever has.”

“Very funny, Happy.” Tony quipped back, briefly giving the arm that was wrapped around Peter a reassuring squeeze. “Can you maybe not spend the first few minutes I’m a dad telling my kid about how irresponsible I am? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry, Mister Stark.” Peter smiled around the words. “I already know how irresponsible you are.”

“Thanks for defending my pride, kiddo. And stop with the ‘Mister Stark’ thing, okay? Call me Tony, like, all the time now. I’m literally your parent.”

“Sure, Mister Stark.”

“You’re obnoxious.”

Happy and Rhodey were both grinning at the new family, and Tony couldn’t remember ever feeling quite as content as he did in that moment, with his best friends right in front of him and the reassuring weight of his kid’s head resting on his shoulder.

And just like that, Tony Stark thinks he finally understood what it meant to be loved.

--

Five days before Peter’s Christmas break ended, Tony brought up the distance issue.

“The Compound is almost three and a half hours away from Midtown, Peter.” The billionaire said. They were back on the roof, pointing out constellations with the help of one of Peter’s Christmas presents: a stargazing guide.

“Do I… do I have to change schools?”

“Not unless you want to.” Tony reassured, noticing the way Peter’s voice had wavered on the question. “You can be homeschooled, if you want. I’m sure that between Vision, Rhodey, and I, we could give you at least a passable education.”

Peter just shrugged. “I guess.”

“Or,” Peter looked surprised that Tony was offering a third option, “we move into the Tower and you keep going to your fancy geek school. It’s your call, kiddie.”

“I- really? I can keep going to Midtown?”

Why the hell was the kid acting like Tony had just given him a puppy, or something? “Of course, Peter. Why the hell would I stop you?”

“I dunno.” The kid shrugged and, for a second, he looked terrifyingly young. Then, his face lit up and the weakness vanished like smoke. “If we live in the Tower, can I keep being Spider-Man?”

It was the first mention Peter had made of his vigilante alter ego since May’s death.

“Do you still want to be Spider-Man?”

“I mean, duh. I just… I needed a little time, y’know? But I’m ready. I miss it.”

“It’s only been a month.” Tony cautioned.

“I know. And I mean, I’m not back to normal. I don’t really think there’s a normal for me to shoot for, anymore. But I’m better. And Spider-Man is… I need him, I guess.”

“You talk about him like he’s a different person.”

“He kind of is, in a way. But he’s a part of me, and I can’t just switch it off because I’m sad. Don’t you feel that way about Iron Man, too?”

And Tony did. Even when Tony Stark was an over-worked, exhausted, anxious wreck, Iron Man was a solid, unshakeable, infallible hero. Where Tony Stark was weak, Iron Man was strong.

At least, he liked to think so.

“I just want you to know that you don’t have to hide behind Spider-Man.”

“I won’t. It’s just that… helping people is kind of what makes me who I am. And I can do that as Peter Parker, sure, but as Spider-Man, I can do so much more. Do you know what I mean?”

For a moment, Tony just marveled at how amazing this kid was.

“Yeah, I do.”

Peter smiled, and then glanced down at the stargazing book that Tony had completely forgotten about. “Hey, can you find Taurus? I know he’s there somewhere, but I can’t seem to spot him…”

There was no more talk of heroes or sadness for that night.

--

They made the move back to the Tower three days before school started back again. Tony wanted to give Peter some time to adjust to his new surroundings before thrusting him into the thick of a new semester. The Tower was mostly empty, although Tony had hired of a team of professionals to have the penthouse completely renovated and refurbished.

The night before school started, Tony decided to take Peter out for some ice cream. There was a little parlor about a five minute walk from the Tower. In all honesty, Tony only noticed its existence because they’d driven past it at some point during the move. It was supposed to mimic 1950’s décor, which had made Peter, for reasons Tony couldn’t really explain or understand, bounce excitedly in the passenger’s seat of the Audi and point it out in a landslide of jumbled speech. He’d made a mental note at the time to take the kid there soon. So, when Peter had seemed to start getting nervous for his first day back, Tony had dramatically declared that he hadn’t had any ice cream in far too long and dragged the kid onto the streets.

In retrospect, it was a terrible idea, but, in his defense, Tony was just trying to cheer Peter up.

They’d finished their ice cream, and Tony was letting the kid ramble on and on about the newest Star Wars movie that had come out in December, when he noticed the paparazzi gathered outside the parlor’s entrance.

He grabbed Peter and hauled him into the single bathroom immediately, clicking the lock shut behind them.

“Tony, what-”

“Just shush for a second, kid.” Tony yanked out his phone and checked the news. He winced when he saw the very first headline.

Tony Stark Adopts Queens Orphan

Shit.

One look at Peter’s anxious eyes nearly broke Tony in two.

“Okay, kiddo, listen up.” You can do this. You don’t have time to panic right now. Peter needs you to handle this. “There are photographers and reporters outside. I’m texting Happy to come pick us up, but we’re gonna have to walk past them. And they’re gonna ask questions and probably take a lot of photos of us. Your job is to ignore them. Keep your head down and let me handle it, okay?”

“Why are they here?” Peter asked, eyes darting nervously around the bathroom. “Are they here for you? It hasn’t happened before.”

He winced, and then flipped the phone so that Peter could see the headline. “They’re here for us.”

The teenager’s eyes widened to saucers. “No, they-I-they’re… they’re here because of me? But-but I… I didn’t even think- Tony, what do I do? I-I don’t know how to do this. How do I-”

Tony cut Peter’s anxious rambling off. “Listen. I know this sucks, okay? And I should have thought about this, but I didn’t. And I’m sorry for that. But right now, all we can do is deal with the shit show. So, you wanna know what you’re supposed to do?”

Peter nodded.

“You’re going to take some deep breaths, calm down, and let me handle it, okay?”

He got another shaky nod in return. “O-okay.”

Tony pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slid them onto Peter’s face. “Good. Just follow my lead.”

The moment they stepped through the parlor’s front doors, the crowd swooped in like a flock of vultures.

“Mister Stark! Is this Peter Parker?”

“Tony! When will you introduce him to the world?”

“Why did you adopt a kid?”

He ignored every single one of the chiming voices. Instead, he shoved Peter behind him and focused on keeping a firm hand on the collar of the kid’s thin t-shirt. He shouldered a path through the throng of clicking lenses and fumbling hands.

“No comment.” He snapped, feeling relief flood through him at the sight of Happy’s Audi sitting on the curb. “Now get the hell out of my way.”

He was mere footsteps away from the safety of the car when Peter gave a yelp and he felt the kid’s collar jerk back out of his grip.

The sight that greeted him when he swung around made rage boil in his stomach.

Some grubby reporter had her fingers clutched around Peter’s wrist tight enough to leave marks, and was tugging him towards the crowd and away from Tony. “Peter! Can you just answer a couple of questions for us?”

Peter’s frightened eyes locked onto Tony’s, and the tears pooling within them jolted the billionaire into action.

He lunged forward and tore the kid back against his chest. He could feel the way Peter’s breathing was verging on out of control. It took every bit of self control he had not to start throwing punches. “Get the fuck away from him, you understand? Don’t you fucking touch him.”

He blocked out the sounds of the reporters’ shouted questions and indignation and hauled the kid to the car, shoving open the door and practically tossing Peter across the bench seat before lunging in behind him.

The door slammed shut behind them, muffling the chaos outside.

“Drive, Happy.”

“On it, Boss.”

He diverted his attention back to the shell-shocked kid sitting next to him. His eyes were squeezed shut, fingers pressed firmly against his temples. The sunglasses Tony had given him lay forgotten in his lap.

“You with me, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I-I’m good.” He shook his head, and then winced. “Just… lots of… stuff.”

It struck Tony suddenly.

“Your Spidey senses.” All those flashing lights and noises must have sent the poor kid into a full on sensory overload. If Tony didn’t already feel like an asshole, he definitely did now.

“Yeah.”

“You got it under control?”

Peter nodded, prying his eyelids open. Almost immediately, he flinched back at the flash of headlights through the windshield. Tony quickly rolled up the privacy screen and pulled down the window shades.

“Better?”

“Y-Yeah. Thanks.”

“No biggie, kiddo. Sorry for… for all that.”

“How…” Peter trailed off for a moment, face still creased in pain, “how did they even figure it out?”

It was a good question. Tony had taken every precaution necessary to keep the whole thing under wraps. Everyone who knew about the adoption, with the exception of their closest friends, had been forced to sign some pretty strict confidentiality agreements.

“I’m not sure. I’ll figure it out, though. Don’t worry.” And when he did, whoever leaked it was going to regret the day they were born.

“I’m… I’m not really worried about that. I just… what do we do now?”

Man, when did this kid get so good at hitting the nail right on the head?

“We can deny it, but if you’re asking me, that would be counterproductive. We could give a press conference. That’d be my choice. That way, we swing the control back to our side. Or, we can just ignore it. It’s up to you.”

“Can I… can I think about it?”

“Of course you can.”

In all honesty, Tony knew from past experience that the press conference was the only real way to go. He hated the thought of subjecting Peter to one, but the quicker they addressed the rumors, the quicker Peter could begin adjusting to his new brand of normal.

The Stark brand of normal. The one Tony had lived with, and silently despised, for his entire life.

That normal.

 “They… they won’t ever leave me alone again, will they?”

There was a pitiful quality to the kid’s voice that made Tony want to cry and rage all at once. For a minute, he considered lying to him. To let the kid live in ignorance and innocence for just a few heartbeats longer.

But that would be unfair. He deserved to know.

“No, kiddo. They won’t.”

When Peter nodded, a tear slid down his cheek.

Tony found himself wondering if it was illegal to buy every newspaper, magazine, and radio station in the entire damn world just to shut them all down.

And with his kid silently crying in the seat next to him, no plan had ever sounded more appealing.

Chapter Text

The start of school sucked.

As a general rule, Peter actually enjoyed school. There was something really thrilling about having so much knowledge just laid out at his fingertips. Grades had never really been an issue for him, either, and it helped that his teachers all adored him. Plus, he got to see Ned and MJ.

So, yeah, school usually wasn’t so bad.

His first day back after his aunt died, however, definitely sucked.

Tony and Happy planned to drop him off early, in hopes of avoiding any unwanted attention. As they neared the school’s street, however, Happy pulled over.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, glancing around nervously. “Are there reporters?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted to talk to you for a second.” Tony leaned forward and rolled up the privacy screen, shutting the pair off from Happy.

“Oh, okay. Uh, what’s up?”

His mentor looked at him for a second before responding. Peter could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Things are gonna be… different. You know that, right?”

Peter shrugged. “I mean, I guess.”

Tony placed a strong hand on his shoulder. Peter could tell by the way he worked his jaw back and forth that the billionaire felt way out of his depth. “Your classmates will all know about the adoption. Some of them are going to give you shit for it. Others are going to try to be your friend when they wouldn’t have before. They’ll treat you differently. I want you to remember something, okay?” Peter thought it was a rhetorical question, but Tony seemed distressed when he didn’t answer “Tell me that you’ll remember what I’m about to say to you.”

“I’ll remember.” Peter said instantly. “I promise.”

Tony swallowed. “You’re still you , no matter how they act. No matter how hard it gets. You’re still Peter . And on top of that, you’re a Stark now. That means something.”

There was a spark of something genuine and solemn in Tony’s eyes. It made Peter’s stomach flip. “I know that.”

“Say it.”

He blinked. “I’m Peter. No matter what, I’m still Peter.”

Tony held his gaze for a breath longer before breaking the contact. For some reason, Peter felt like he’d just broken some kind of spell. The world slid back into focus, but Peter hadn’t even noticed that he’d zoned out in the first place.

The billionaire slid the privacy screen back down. “Onward, Happy.”

“Right away, Boss.”

Even though Happy pulled up to the school over an hour before class began, there were still half a dozen reporters and photographers prowling around on the lawn. Peter instantly felt his adrenalin spike. Static raced through his hands and he felt lightheaded.

“Easy, Peter.” It didn’t help that while Tony’s voice was steady, Peter could see the panic crawling behind his eyes. “It’s okay. Happy is going to walk you right up to the front doors and pick you up at the same place this afternoon. I’d do it, but I think that may prove to be a little counterproductive.”

He gave a jerky nod, feeling ice run through his veins. He felt strangely detached, as if he was watching the scene from deep within himself.

Tony’s hand brushed some of Peter’s unruly curls from his forehead. “You call me if it gets too much, okay? We’ll come get you.”

Another nod and Peter, to his horror, felt tears well behind his eyes and a hiccup work its way up his throat.

“Oh, Peter.” There was something deeply sad lingering in Tony’s eyes. Suddenly, it morphed into resolve. “Fuck it, Happy. Go back to the Tower. We can deal with this shit another day.”

“No!” The word came out a lot stronger than Peter felt. He wiped his eyes viciously enough that he briefly wondered if he’d leave bruises. “No. I can do this. I need to do this.”

“Peter,” Tony’s face was lined with worry, “are you sure?”

“I-I’m… I’m a Stark. I’m Spider-Man. I can do this.”

For a moment, it looked as though Tony was going to stop him. Peter could tell that every fiber of the man was screaming for him to bundle his kid back to the safety of the Tower and keep him there forever. Then, the billionaire shook his head and sighed.

“Alright. But I’m not joking, Peter. You fucking call me if you need to come home. Don’t hesitate.”

“Yeah. I-I’ll call. But don’t worry. I’ll-I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will be.”

He flashed Tony one last tremulous smile before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and leaping out of the car before he could change his mind.

Really, he wanted nothing less than to crawl back into the Audi and let Tony hide him from the world. He didn’t want to face his classmates’ stares and whispers. He didn’t want to hear the gaggle of reporters’ shouted questions. Hell, he didn’t even want to deal with Ned’s quiet sympathy. He just wanted to go home.

But he couldn’t do that. He was Peter Parker-Stark. He was Spider-Man. He could do this.

May would want him to do this.

So he ignored the shouts from the reporters and let Happy shield him as they speed walked to Midtown’s front doors. The driver gave him a gentle shove into the hall before turning back to the car.

“Good luck, kid.”

And then he was alone.

Peter ended up sitting on the ground outside his locker once he checked in at the office. Almost as soon as other kids started arriving, he got a text from Ned.

Guy-In-The-Chair: you’re gonna be at school today, right?

Peter Parker: yeah. I’m here already. Outside my locker.

Guy-In-The-Chair: Yes! I’ll be there in five. I missed you, man.

Peter Parker: I missed you, too.

As more and more people filed into the halls, he started to notice the whispers. Thanks to his advanced senses, he could even hear some of them.

“Look, Kelly, Parker’s back.”

“He’s not Parker anymore. Tony Stark adopted him.”

“Not gonna lie, I didn’t even think that bullshit internship was real .”

He knew that he should be mad. But for some reason, all he wanted to do was sink into himself and never emerge.

“Peter!”

He looked up from his knees to see Ned hovering excitedly above him.

“Dude!” His hand was outstretched, an expectant look on his face. “Come on. Handshake.”

Right. Their handshake.

It was difficult to start, but there was something comforting about the familiarity of the movements. Peter felt something uncoil in his chest.

When they finished, Ned pulled him to his feet.

“So, what’s it like living with Tony Stark?” His best friend rambled, completely oblivious to the hundreds of eyes trained directly on them. “Like, I know you’ve told me a little , but not nearly enough. I mean, you barely texted me all break! I thought you were dead, or something.”

“I wasn’t dead, Ned.” Peter hissed, grabbing his friend’s elbow. “And keep your voice down, okay?”

Realization dawned on Ned’s face. “Oh, man. I didn’t even… sorry, Peter.”

Peter felt a stab of remorse when he saw the guilt splashed across his best friend’s face. “No, dude. Don’t apologize. I’m sorry. It’s just… you know.”

“No, man, I totally get it.” His voice softened. “Listen. I-I haven’t had a chance to really talk to you since… since it happened, and I just… I’m really sorry, Peter.”

He felt like he had a cotton ball lodged in his throat when he answered. “Thanks man. We, uh, we should get to class.”

Peter made it through the first half of the day without any major incidents.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

Ned had just plopped down beside him at their usual lunch table when a girl from his English class, Kayla, slid into the seat at his left.

“Hey, Peter.” She blinked her long eyelashes at him shyly. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“Uh,” Peter glanced at Ned for help, but his best friend was too busy gaping at the girl like a fish out of water to offer any guidance, “uh, sure?”

“Awesome!” Her voice squeaked on the word. “So, how’s your day been?”

“Oh, uh, fine?” Thankfully, his manners cut in where his charisma cut out. “How was yours?”

Kayla grinned at him with a shiny row of perfect white teeth. “Good!” She leaned closer. “So, Petey, I was thinking of going out for the Decathlon team, and you’re, like, super smart. Think you could help me? Pretty please?”

Tony’s words from that morning hit him like a mace to the chest.

“They’ll treat you differently.”

He cleared his throat and mustered every ounce of courage he had. “Actually, you should talk to MJ about it. She would probably know more than me, since she’s the team captain.”

Kayla may be forward, but she isn’t stupid. She heard the rejection hidden behind Peter’s suggestion. “Oh. Fine, then. I, uh, have somewhere to be. I’ll see you around, Parker.”

She left without a second glance at him, swinging her hips suggestively as she went.

And before he could recover, the very last voice he wanted to hear echoed around the room and silenced the cafeteria.

“Well if it isn’t Penis Parker. Or do I have to call you Stark, now?” Flash smirked as he sauntered over. “How’s it feel, Penis?”

“Just leave me alone, Flash.” Peter muttered, absently poking at his mashed potatoes with his plastic fork.

“Sorry, Peter, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of how pathetic you are.” A couple weak laughs sounded from an assortment of tables at the jab.

Peter took a deep breath.

“You’re a Stark now. That means something.”

What would Tony do?

Peter stood abruptly and whipped around to look Flash straight in the eye. “Leave me alone.”

“Answer the question, Penis. How’s it feel?”

“How does what feel, Flash?” Peter didn’t even bother masking the irritation from his voice. “Spit it out.”

The bully stared at him for a moment, and then let a sick smile snarl across his face. “Being Tony Stark’s latest pity project. You must be pretty glad your aunt kicked it, huh? Now you’re rich. If you weren’t such a pussy, I’d say you planned it yourself.”

Flash  didn’t even see the first fist coming.

--

Flash’s parents were already sitting in Principal Morita’s office when Tony arrived.

“I apologize for the delay,” the billionaire said smoothly, shaking Morita’s hand first before politely greeting both of Flash’s parents, “I was in a meeting with the President.”

All three adults balked, and Tony had to smother a smile at Peter’s muffled giggle.

Speaking of which…

He leaned casually against the chair his kid was curled in. Peter didn’t look up. He just kept his eyes trained firmly on his lap. “Hey there, kiddo.”

“Hey.” The teenager’s voice cracked on the single syllable.

Without another word, Tony reached down and tilted Peter’s chin up with his pointer finger. The kid didn’t resist.

His face was a mess. His nose was broken and his lip was split. It looked like the nurse had hastily cleaned up the majority of the blood, but flecks of it were still drying all over his lips and chin. A quick glance at Peter’s hands showed that both knuckles were busted and the palms were smeared with a mix of both dried and fresh blood, assumedly from stemming the bleeding from his nose. Tony had no doubt that the kid would have at least one black eye in a couple of hours, not to mention the fact that both were red-rimmed from crying.

Tony’s hand balled into a fist.

It is morally wrong, and illegal, to kill a child, he thought, but damn, it would really hit the spot right about now.

“Mister Stark.” Tony glanced over to Peter’s principal, who was looking shockingly composed for someone who had Tony Stark in their office. “I trust that Mrs. Brant made you aware of the situation?”

Before Tony could respond, Flash’s mother spoke up with a wail.

“I want that boy expelled, Morita!” She clung to her son while the teenager cringed. “He punched my baby, and I want him expelled!”

“In the name of transparency, Mrs. Thompson,” Tony smiled amiably at the woman, moving a hand to rest on the top of Peter’s head, “if you insist on Peter’s expulsion, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to insist on your son’s as well.”

For a moment, all the woman seemed capable of was sputtering. “But, why, I- your son threw the first punch.”

Tony had to admit, that did surprise him. All he heard from the lady who had called him (Mrs. Brant, apparently) was that Peter had gotten into a fight with another boy named Flash Thompson and that Tony needed to come in immediately.

He moved to kneel in front of his kid. “Is that true, Peter?”

He got a sniffle and a nod in response.

“May I have a moment to speak with Peter, please?” He directed the question to Principal Morita.

“Of course.” There was kindness in the man’s eyes as he answered. If Tony remembered correctly, he had a soft spot for Peter. “You can take him into the waiting room. No one should be there at the moment.”

“Thank you.” He took Peter’s wrist and gave it a quick tug. “C’mon, buddy.”

The teenager followed him dutifully, eyes low and step shuffling. As soon as they were alone, Tony pushed him into a nearby chair and dropped to his knees so his and the kid’s eyes were level.

“Tell me what happened.”

It was an order, but not an unkind one.

“I punched him.”

“Yeah, I got that part. Why’d you do it?”

“Who says I had a reason?”

“Because you’re you, Peter. Violence without provocation isn’t really your style.”

The kid’s tear-filled eyes finally drifted up to meet his. “He said… he said that I was your pity project. And… and that I must be glad that May was dead.”

Tony was going to kill that kid. “That little shit. I swear to God, Peter, I’m going to tear him a new fucking-”

“No!” Peter exclaimed. He shook his head rapidly, jostling previously unshed tears down his cheeks. “Please, just… just, don’t, okay? I just… I just wanna go home.”

The words deflated his anger like only Peter could. “Okay, kid. Okay. C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

Tony followed Peter back into the office with a protective hand braced against his back. He triple checked that the kid had tucked himself back into his seat before speaking.

“So, Principal Morita, what’s the protocol for something like this?”

The man sighed. “This is Peter’s first offense, so a three day suspension is the most common punishment.” Morita spoke his next words to Flash’s parents. “Unfortunately, this is Flash’s fifth altercation since he first joined our student body. I’ll have to insist on a two week suspension and a disciplinary hearing.”

Tony toned out the protests from the parents sitting to his right. He had his own family to worry about right now.

As soon as there was a lull in the arguments, the billionaire quickly asked if he and Peter were free to go.

“Ah, yes. Of course, Mister Stark. Thank you so much for coming. Peter is free to return to school on Friday. I’ll have his teachers email him the assignments so he doesn’t fall behind.”

“Thank you.”

He dragged Peter out of the office, sending off a quick text to Happy to pull the car around and come to escort them through the throng of reporters waiting outside.

Tony stopped in a blind spot by the front doors and slid an extra pair of sunglasses onto the kid’s face. He doubted that Peter wanted the whole world to see that he’d been crying.

Happy slid through the front doors and silently handed Tony a bag. Inside was a pair of noise cancelling headphones that had been Peter’s Christmas present from the ex-bodyguard. Tony hoped that they, coupled with the sunglasses, would help Peter avoid another sensory overload.

“Here you go, kiddie.” He tucked the headphones over Peter’s errant curls and lifted an earpad so the kid could still hear him. Happy was holding open the door and shielding the pair from the camera flashes outside. “Ready?”

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

Tony placed the cushioned earpad back into place and kept a strong arm clenched around Peter’s shoulders as they pushed their way through the crowd. When they were encased in the safety of the car, he pulled the headphones and sunglasses off of his kid and was relieved to see that Peter seemed to have made it through the walk no worse for wear.

“Better?”

“Better.”

“Good.” Tony leaned back in his seat. He squinted at Peter’s nose for a second. “Well, it looks like that’s already healed wrong. You having trouble breathing?”

“No. Just feels weird.”

Tony nodded decisively. “Well, it’s not gonna hurt to wait a little longer before setting it, then. Let’s get donuts, Happy.”

“What?”

This kid was just so cute. “Donuts. For you.”

“I-I just got suspended, Tony.”

He didn’t miss the fact that Peter had called him Tony. It just made his smile crawl wider across his face. “Exactly. You got suspended for punching an asshole. Your reward is donuts.”

It took the entire drive to the pastry place for Peter to compute that. He still looked a little dazed as Happy handed the box of a dozen donuts back to them.

“You’re not mad at me?”

Tony laughed. “Mad at you? Kid, I’m so damn proud that I could burst.”

“But I… but I punched him.”

“Yeah, and he punched you back.” Tony ran a gentle finger over Peter’s split lip. “Why’d you let him hit you?”

They both knew Peter could have dropped Flash without taking a single blow.

“I let him have his own hit for every one I gave.” The kid shrugged. “It seemed fair.”

“Because fair is definitely what you should think about in a fight, huh?” Tony sighed, briefly considering scolding the kid. But it wouldn’t change anything, so what was the point? “You did good, kid.”

The image of Peter’s eyes sparkling at the praise would stay with Tony for a long, long time.

--

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Tony pointed to a bed in the MedBay where Peter could sit. “Can you call Rhodey? He should be able to set his nose.”

“Right away, Boss.”

Happy had driven them back to the Compound. Peter needed that nose set sooner rather than later and Tony wasn’t about to do it himself, especially without pain meds that could tackle the kid’s super metabolism. Thankfully, Rhodey had first aid training from his time in the army and the Compound was stocked to the brim with drugs for super soldiers.

He wished that Banner was here.

But Bruce, along with the rest of the team, was MIA. So, he and Rhodey would handle it. Just like old times.

“Tony? Aren’t you supposed to be in New York with Pe-” Rhodey strolled in, took one looked at the mess that was Peter’s face, and cut himself off. “What the hell happened to him?”

“He punched a bully. It was brilliant, Rhodes. I’m so proud.”

“You would be.” The Colonel muttered, taking Peter’s chin in his hand and examining his crooked nose clinically. “Did you let this kid hit you?”

“He did.” Tony rolled his eyes. “How many times did you let him hit you, anyway?”

“Uh, ten.” The kid blushed. “I hit him nine.”

“Why the extra punch?”

“Cause I’m, you know, I’m Spider-Man.” He shrugged. “He didn’t hit too hard.”

“He broke your fucking nose, Peter. I think he hit hard enough.”

“Alright, kids,” Rhodey gave Tony’s shoulder a friendly shove as he set up an IV line, “can we save it for later, please?”

Peter looked nervously at the needle in Rhodey’s hand. “Uh, is that, you know, necessary?”

“If you want pain meds, it is.” Tony piped up. “Your metabolism will burn through even Bruce’s super drugs unless you’re getting a steady stream. Sorry, kiddo.”

Then, to Tony’s surprise, Peter scooted away from Rhodey when the Colonel reached for his arm. “You know what? Just set it. I’ll be fine.”

Tony nearly toppled over with indignation. “I am not letting Rhodey re-break your nose without pain meds. Not happening. Nope. No way. Now give him your arm, Peter.”

“No, I’m good. I’m good. I mean, I’m pretty good with pain.”

“Peter, do not think that I won’t get the suit and hold you down while Rhodey drugs the shit out of you . ”

The teenager whined, still looking at the needle like it might come to life and bite him.

Tony felt himself soften. “C’mon, Peter. You’ve got super strength. We can’t risk you lashing out and hurting Rhodey. It’ll be over before you know it, and I’ll stay right here the whole time. Nothing is going to happen to you, I swear.”

“O-okay.” Peter relented, albeit very reluctantly.

Tony didn’t miss the fact that the kid was shaking a bit. He sighed, and hopped up onto the hospital bed and tucked the kid’s back against his chest. “We’re ready, Rhodey.”

The Colonel just smirked a little as Tony gently turned the kid’s head away from his outstretched arm and whispered soothingly into his ear.

“You’re good, Peter. Rhodey’s the best. Did I tell you about the time he had to relocate my shoulder? It was for a dumb reason, too. I was drunk and I fell over.” The needle went in, and the kid didn’t even flinch. He was too busy listening to his mentor ramble. “It was before Iron Man, back when I was an asshole. Man, kid, I was a massive asshole. I’m glad you didn’t meet me then.”

Tony noticed Rhodey discreetly open the line on the bag of meds and give a small nod to the door, mouthing “I’ll be back” before slipping out to give the pair a moment and to let the drugs start to work.

In all honesty, Tony assumed that it was the needle that Peter hated, but soon as the kid’s eyes started to droop and he jerked, shaking his head as if to clear it and breathing erratically, he realized it was something else, too.

“Easy, Peter.” He tightened his grip around the kid’s chest. “You’re fine, kiddo. Just relax.”

“Don’ like it.”

“What don’t you like, Peter?”

“‘S fuzzy. Don’ like it.”

The realization hit Tony suddenly, and he felt like an idiot.

“Drugs dull your senses.”

“Mmm. Don’ like it. Too quiet.”

“Fuck, Peter. Why didn’t you tell me?”

All he got was a pitiful whimper in response.

“You’re good, Peter. Just focus on me, okay?” In a snap decision, he reached out an arm and opened the IV line even further. He knew that Rhodey only gave him the minimum dose. The kid can’t panic if Tony drugs him into apathy. “Don’t think about it. I’m right here. Rhodey’ll be back in a minute and then we’ll get this shit over with and you can sleep it off and then you’ll be back to normal, alright?”

Rhodey chose that moment to lean into the room. “We ready?”

“In a minute.” Tony gestured for him to come in. “Peter’s not having the most fun with the pain meds.”

His best friend quirked an eyebrow and moved to the bedside so he could whisper in Tony’s ear. “What’s wrong?”

“The drugs mess with his super senses, and it’s scaring him. I may or may not have upped the dose.”

Rhodey checked the IV and nodded. “You know, pushing your substance abuse onto your son probably qualifies as a bad idea.”

Tony rolled his eyes before returning his attention to the teenager at his chest. “You ever heard the story of my first party at MIT?”

“No.”

“It’s a good story. I was trying to impress this girl. Laney, was it? No, Barbra. Take my advice, kid, and never go for a Barbra. They’re bad news. Anyway, I was only fifteen and this girl was a sophomore studying Pre-Med.” He could feel Peter’s grip on his arms loosen and his tense muscles start to uncoil. Thank god . “Did you know I went to college at your age? It was my Dad’s idea. Mom was against it. He really should have listened to her. Howard Stark had a lot of shit ideas, but that might have been one of his shittiest. May was smart to keep you on the normal person track. You’ll be a little bored, but it’ll do you good in the long run. Don’t you think?”

The kid just rolled his head back to gaze up at Tony and with half-lidded eyes. To Tony’s immense relief, there wasn’t even the tiniest spark of fear there.

“Okay, Rhodes. Go for it.”

Rhodey quickly moved into position at Peter’s face. “Okay, Peter. Keep your eyes shut and tell me if you feel any pain, okay?”

Peter hummed, relaxing completely against Tony’s chest.

The actual setting of the nose went easily. As much as Peter hated them, the pain meds did their job. The kid didn’t even notice what was happening until it was all over.

As soon as Rhodey finished, he disconnected the IV line and slid the needle from Peter’s elbow.

“You know the drill,” Rhodey said quietly, “call me if you need anything. I’ll be here.”

Tony nodded, letting his friend leave without another word.

Pete dozed while his metabolism burned off the drugs. It wouldn’t take long. Tony just leaned back and focused on the comforting noise of his kid breathing.

It hit him rather suddenly that it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

--

“I want to do the press conference.”

Tony started, looking up from his StarkPad suddenly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re right. If we keep saying nothing, they’ll never leave us alone.”

It was Wednesday. Peter had just one more day left before his suspension was over. His enhanced healing meant that his face was mostly healed. There was only a shadow of a bruise on one of his cheekbones. Otherwise, there was no indication of Monday’s fight on his youthful features.

“How about tomorrow?”

Peter stiffened. “So soon?”

“Don’t you want to get it over with?”

He leaned back, texting Pepper as he let Peter mull his words over.

Tony Stark: I need you to organize a press conference for tomorrow.

Pepper Potts: Peter agreed?

Tony Stark: Yep. Make it small, and choose only reputable sources.

Pepper Potts: Of course, Tony. Who do you think I am?

Peter spoke suddenly. “Yeah. You’re right. The sooner the better.”

Tony gave him a comforting smile. “You’re gonna do great. They’ll love you.”

--

The next morning, Tony found himself hovering outside the door of Stark Industries’ press room with a jittery Peter bouncing on the balls of his feet beside him.

“Breathe, Peter.” He could hear Pepper introducing them through the thin wood. “Remember what we talked about? Just be yourself. If you aren’t comfortable with a question, just tap my wrist and I’ll blow it off, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ve got this.”

“You do.” Tony ruffled his hair fondly, smirking as the kid rushed to pat it back into place. Happy gave him the signal that it was their time to head in. “C’mon, kiddo. Time to make the whole damn world fall in love with you.”

There were only twenty reporters in the room. Pepper had handpicked every single one of them. They’d been through extensive background checks to ensure that they were a good fit for Tony’s needs. On top of that, they’d been subjected to briefings by Pepper, Happy, and an assortment of security guards on what was expected of them.

Tony pulled Peter’s chair out for him, making sure the kid was seated comfortably before sliding into his own chair with a flourish.

“My name is Tony Stark,” he began, smirking when he saw one of the journalists roll their eyes at the unnecessary introduction, “and this is Peter. He’s my kid. No, not biologically. I adopted him, as you all seem to conveniently know already. Now, let’s get to questions.”

Every hand in the room shot in the air.

“You. In the front row, with the white blouse.”

The reporter looked fresh out of undergrad. Her auburn hair was bundled in tight bun on the top of her head. Frankly, it looked immensely uncomfortable. “What made you want to adopt a child?”

“I get bored easily. Next.”

“Are the Rogue Avengers aware of Peter?”

Tony ignored the stab of pain through his chest at the reminder of his team, fragmented and scattered across the globe. “I’m not in touch with them. If they read the news, though, I’m sure they know.” He picked another hand.

“What was it about Peter that made you want to adopt him?”

“It helps that you can’t meet him without loving him.” He said flippantly, feeling a deep satisfaction at the surprise on the reporters’ faces. Tony Stark wasn’t known for love. “Seriously, he’s the smartest, kindest, dorkiest kid you’ll ever meet. Next.”

“What is it you want to be when you grow up, Peter?”

This was the first question actually aimed at the teenager, who was minutely shaking beside him. Tony turned in his seat expectantly, gesturing for the kid to answer.

“Oh, I, uh,” for a second, the billionaire briefly wondered if the kid would just stutter until Tony came to his rescue. Then, he took a shaky breath and the words flowed like honey, “I really like biochemistry and engineering. I think I’d like to do what Tony does. Invent stuff to help people, you know?”

Pride swelled in Tony’s chest at both his kid’s confidence and the adorably selfless answer. “There you have it. I told you, he really is an angel.” A chuckle washed over the room as Peter blushed. “Alright. You, sir. In the fourth row.”

“Will Peter inherit Stark Industries?”

Tony had to forcibly remind himself not to roll his eyes. “Of course he will. He’s my son.” Peter turned and openly stared at his mentor’s declaration. Tony had forgotten that he hadn’t made that explicitly clear to him. Oh well. “You. Yes, you. The one with the red recorder.”

“It is a well known fact that you spearhead the majority of the engineering and design components of Stark Industries. Your genius had been the driving force behind the majority of the company’s successes. Do you believe that Peter is capable of following in your footsteps?”

“He’ll do more than follow in my footsteps. He’ll forge a new damn path. Believe me, he’s far smarter than I am. There is no one else I could dream of leaving Stark Industries to.”

--

After the press conference was over, and the little family was eating a much deserved dinner of Chinese takeout, Peter set his container down and wiggled on the couch until he was facing Tony with solemn eyes. “Did you mean it? What you said, about Stark Industries?”

“Of course, kid.” Tony put his own container on the coffee table and poked the kid in the stomach. The assault won him a giggle. “I’m going to give you the world, Peter. All you need to do is worry about how you’re going to change it.”

Chapter Text

Things had gotten a little better since the press conference. Paparazzi still flocked around Tony and Peter whenever they went out, but their numbers were rapidly decreasing. And on an even better note, the media’s reception of Peter had gone just as well as Tony had anticipated.

They loved him.

The news was teeming with articles like Meet Peter Stark: Tony Stark’s Adorable Son and 10 Reasons Why Peter Stark is the Future We Want .

So, overall, things were going well.

Peter went back to school on Friday, and, as far as Tony could tell, it was a pretty typical day. He dropped the kid off to an empty yard. There wasn’t a single reporter in sight. Tony and Happy retrieved him at the end of the day, and the kid seemed to be in good spirits.

“School go well?”

“Yeah!” The kid kicked off his shoes and tucked his legs up underneath him.

“Nobody gave you any shit, did they?”

Peter shrugged. “A couple people, but it wasn’t a big deal. Ned was with me, and MJ was back from her Harvard journalism camp so I had her, too.”

“Harvard, huh?” Happy pulled out onto the freeway that would take them to the Compound. Tony had promised Peter that he could train with Rhodey over the weekend. “She must be pretty smart.”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter grinned goofily, “she’s brilliant.”

A knowing smile spread across Tony’s face. “I bet she is, to make you smile like that.”

The kid turned as red as his Spider-Man suit. “Tony! I-I don’t like like MJ.”

“I’m sorry, did you just use the phrase ‘like like’ in a sentence? What are you, five?” The billionaire couldn't stop himself from snickering at the kid’s expense. Hell, even Happy was chuckling a little.

“Shut up!” Peter looked like he’d rather be anywhere other than buckled in next to his laughing mentor. “It’s-I don’t-”

“Now, Peter,” Tony said, forcing his face into a serious expression. His eyes still glinted with humor, “I supposed we need to have The Talk.”

Peter’s face went from bright red to pure white in mere seconds. “Please, don’t.”

Happy coughed in order to cover his bark of laughter. Tony rolled his eyes and quickly hit the button to bring up the privacy screen. “You see, when little boys and little girls get together, they start to feel a lot of things. It’s all hormones, of course, but that’s not the point.”

“I will literally do anything to make you shut up right now.” Peter whined, burying his face in his hands.

Tony bowled right over him. “I’m not saying you’re too young to have sex. Okay, actually, I am saying that, but I also know that I can’t stop you. Believe me, I’ve been there. So remember: if you do the deed, you better pack what you need. You feel me?”

“Can you spontaneously combust from embarrassment?”

“I’m being serious, Peter.” He sort of was, too, in Tony’s own special way. “And the condom rule applies to both guys and girls. I don’t care who you’re screwing, STDs are not fun. So if you bottom for a guy, you’d better make sure he suits up. Don’t expect your partner to come prepared, either. Always come packing yourself.  And the first time around, you’re bound to hit that gas pedal a little too hard and burn out. It’s fine. You’ll get better with practice. Not that you should be practicing, alright? Oh, and never use oil-based lube. It’ll degrade the latex in the condom. I’m sure you can understand the chemistry of that, little genius.”

“I do!” Peter squeaked. “Listen, good talk! Now, let’s never bring it up again, okay?”

Tony laughed, ruffling the kid’s hair. “I’m always here if you have questions.”

“I can promise you that I will never have questions about that .”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Sure you won’t, kid.”

--

Rhodey, Peter, and Tony all ate dinner together. Pepper and Vision were both busy. Tony glanced around the large table with a pit in his stomach. He’d specifically designed it to fit the entire team, so the huge surface dwarfed the three of them.

Peter, however, was oblivious to Tony’s discomfort. He was rambling away at the two men sitting on either side of him. Rhodey was doing a fantastic job of looking interested.

“Oh! Ned got this new Lego set. It’s a Star Destroyer from The Last Jedi. It’s got 1416 pieces. It’ll take a while, but I think it’ll look so cool sitting next to the Millennium Falcon and Death Star.”

“You should build the Enterprise.” Rhodey offered, eating a spoonful of his fried rice. He was staring at the kid with fondness glowing in his eyes.

“That would be so awesome! Ned has a shuttle from ages ago, but the Enterprise is really expensive and they’re never on sale so we’ve never built one.”

“I’ll buy you one, kid.” Tony stole some of Peter’s Lo Mein as he spoke. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

Peter blushed. “I-I just… I mean, I don’t need one, do I?”

“No,” Tony said slowly. His face ached where he was holding back a smile, “but remember what we talked about? I like getting you stuff. Besides, I’d rather that you be obsessed with Legos than, I don’t know, heroin.”

Peter blinked, and then giggled. “Well that escalated quickly. Don’t worry about the heroin, Mister Stark, could you imagine how much I’d need with my metabolism?” Curiosity slid across the kid’s face like a stage curtain. “Huh. How much would I need?”

“Nope.” Tony barked, ignoring the way Rhodey was muffling his laughter behind his elbow. “We are not testing that. Not ever. If you do, I’ll kick your ass so hard you’ll forget your own damn name, you hear me? Don’t do drugs. Jesus, we’ve already had the sex talk today, and now we have to have the drug one, too? I don’t think I can take any more parenting for at least a solid 24 hours.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Rhodey cut in, “you had the sex talk with him today? You ? Tony Stark gave the sex talk to a teenager? My Tony Stark? Have I entered the Twilight Zone?”

Peter rolled his eyes and ignored the Colonel. “I’ve already had the drug talk from Captain America, Mister Stark. I think we can skip it.”

Tony did a quick round of math in his head before responding. There was no way in hell Steve managed to give the kid any kind of talk before going into exile. “What the hell, Peter? When the fuck did you talk to Steve ?”

“I didn’t talk to him, Mister Stark,” Peter looked confused, as if he was surprised Tony didn’t know what he was talking about, “I mean the PSAs.”

“PSAs? What do you mean by PSAs?”

“Public Service Announcements?”

“I know what PSA stands for, Peter. When the hell did Steve do PSAs ? And for what ?”

“I mean, they’re on Youtube.”

Suddenly, Tony realized exactly how they were going to spend their evening.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Find every single one of these PSAs. We’re having a Youtube night.”

“Right away, Sir.”

--

After they’d exhausted every single Captain America PSA in existence, Rhodey had thrown on Galaxy Quest, much to a certain teenager’s unrestrained glee.

Peter was an animated movie watcher. In fact, he was brilliant to watch TV with. He laughed at all the funny moments, gasped along with the plot, and not only tolerated, but joined in with, Tony’s snarky commentary.

That’s why, when the billionaire made a quip and was greeted by nothing but silence to his left, he turned to check on the kid.

Peter was fast asleep.

Tony glanced at his watch. It was only midnight , for god’s sake. The kid must really be beat.

Rhodey was the one who voiced the thought. “Being a super teen looks like hard work, huh?”

The billionaire chuckled a little, but was effectively silenced by a little whimper that slid through Peter’s sleep-parted lips.

His best friend was straightening suddenly, careful to avoid jostling the napping teenager. “He okay?”

“It’s just a nightmare. He gets them a lot.” Tony slid his fingers through Peter’s mess of curls, smiling as the kid shifted unconsciously into the touch. “Shh, Peter. It’s alright. I’m right here.”

The tension leaked out of Peter gradually as his breathing settled into a more comfortable rhythm. When Tony looked up, Rhodey was looking at the pair with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What?” He kept his voice low, but let his vague annoyance show in his inflection.

His best friend stared for a breath longer. “I just never thought I’d see the day you became a father. I always knew it would suit you.”

If it was anyone else, Tony might have deflected. But this was Rhodey.

“He’s… he’s a good kid.” Why was his voice cracking? “The best.”

Rhodey smiled. “He’s good for you. You need someone to remind you how to be human.”

And he was right. Sometimes, in the midst of Iron Man and politics and running a multi-million dollar company, Tony Stark forgot that he wasn’t a battle-hardened soldier. Not really.

He was just a man.

That thought used to terrify him, because men were breakable, and Tony Stark was far too broken already. Howard Stark had broken the child inside him decades ago. The poor kid had never even stood a chance. The Ten Rings had broken him again in Afghanistan. Tony had left a piece of himself in those hopeless, blistering sands. Some nights, he could still feel the hole where it should be. The Civil War had struck the final, shattering blow to his already fragile framework. He could still remember the sound of the arc reactor splintering, of Steve’s ragged breathing, of his entire worldview shattering.

Rhodey and Pepper had held him together, after it happened, but he’d accepted the fact that he would never be whole again.

But, somehow, Peter was knitting every one of Tony’s broken pieces right back into place and, where the fragments were missing or too defiled to repair, he was building new ones.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, brushing his knuckles down the sleeping boy’s cheek, “yeah, I do.”

They sat in silence for a while. Rhodey must have turned off the TV.

“I should take him to bed.” He whispered, eventually. “His neck won’t thank him for sleeping in that position for much longer.”

Rhodey nodded. “Need any help?”

“No. I’ve got him.”

I’ve got him. I’ve always got him.

“Alright. I’ll see you in the morning, Tones.” The Colonel engaged his leg braces and rose carefully. He paused by the sleeping teenager and set a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Sleep well, Peter.”

And then he was gone.

Tony stood and stretched, wincing as his back popped. “Alright, kiddo.” He slid his arms underneath the teenager’s back and knees and lifted him gently. Peter’s hair ticked his nose as he headed towards the kid’s room.

He was nearly certain that the kid was asleep as he nestled him into his bed. But, as he moved to go, a sleepy voice tugged him back.

“Don’ go.”

When he turned around, the kid’s soft brown eyes were blinking up at him. He’d wrestled one of his arms out from where Tony had tucked it underneath the covers, and was reaching for the billionaire blearily. Tony touched his wrist lightly. “Easy, kiddo. I’ll just be one door down, okay?”

This seemed to mollify the teenager, since he let his eyes slip shut again. Tony moved forward to rearrange the blankets, since the kid had managed to twist them around in his haste to grab hold of his mentor..

He ran a parting hand through the kid’s curls. “Goodnight, Peter.”

The mumbled response made his heart stutter. “Mmm. G’night, Dad.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

Peter just called him Dad.

He retreated on stumbling feet, slamming into his bedroom door with so much force that he was surprised it didn’t bust off the hinges and tripping over the threshold as he went.

Peter just called him Dad.

Sure, the kid was half asleep, but he still said it which meant he thought it.

And… and the kid wasn’t wrong. Tony was, by law, his father. Hell, Tony had been thinking of the kid as his kid for a while now. Peter had been his son for a very, very long time.

But hearing the kid acknowledge it was… something else entirely.

All of a sudden, he felt a stab of guilt. Who was he, to replace Peter’s biological father? To replace his mother? To replace Uncle Ben?

To replace May ?

But then he remembered what she had said to him, the night she’d begging him to be Peter’s guardian in her will.

“He already thinks of you as a father, Tony, and the two of us… we’re all he has left. If it can’t be me, it needs to be you.”

Tony Stark was not a religious man. He hadn’t believed in a heaven or a hell in a long, long time. But as he sat in bed, he glanced up at the ceiling and whispered what some might call a prayer.

“You raised a good kid. A great one. I-I promise I won’t fuck him up, okay? I promise I’ll protect him. I… I guess I’ll be a dad, whatever that means.”

Somewhere, he thought, May must be smiling.

--

He woke up to the sound of his phone ringing.

“This is Stark.”

“Stark,” Ross barked, all business and stiff propriety, “I need you to come in.”

“Great. I’ll let you know my answer in approximately four to seven business days…”

“ Now , Stark. I don’t have time for your games.”

“Listen, I appreciate the offer but I’ve got a lot on my plate right about now.” Tony snapped, moving to hang up.

“Yeah. I suppose having a teenager would do that for you.”

Tony froze. Something cold rushed through his veins. Why would Ross give a shit about Peter? “What the hell are you on about?”

“You think we wouldn’t find out, Stark? The media’s been on it for days. Peter, isn’t it? He seems like a sweet kid. Smart, too. Did you know that he took the SAT last year? He made a 1540, and it was his first try. He’s… special, I guess you could say. It’s not easy, I presume, swinging around from buildings. I would truly hate for something to happen to him.”

Tony’s fingers curled so tightly around his phone that he fleetingly wondered if it would crack. Ross knew. “Don’t you touch him. Do you fucking hear me, Ross? He’s off limits.”

“Nothing’s off limits, Stark. Now get your ass to D.C., and leave your snot-nosed kid at home.”

He grit his teeth painfully, and swallowed his pride because all he could see was Peter in chains, Peter bloodied, Peter dying, Peter dead. “Fine.”

“Good. I’ll expect you in two hours.”

“I need three.”

“You have two. Unless, of course, you’d like to involve Peter. I wonder, Stark, how long do you think it would take for him to start screaming?”

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. “I’ll be there.”

“I expect you will.”

The call clicked off.

Tony felt his Iron Man wrist gauntlet fold over his fist and promptly drove it into the wall, feeling a grim satisfaction at the way the plaster splintered and cracked with the blow.

“Boss?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. questioned, her voice cautious.

“Order the jet.”

The AI paused. “Of course, Boss.”

The billionaire took a trembling breath. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Where’s Peter? Is he alright?”

“Peter is located in his room. His vitals are all normal and he appears to be in no distress. My cameras indicate that he is currently writing an essay for his AP English Language and Composition course. Would you like me to send for him?”

“No, no.” Tony said, feeling relief flood through him at hearing that his kid was okay. “I’ll go talk to him myself.”

Tony rushed down the hallway and stopped in front of Peter’s room. He took a couple of deep breaths before knocking gently against the kid’s door, and a second later he was greeted with his favorite sight in the world: two bright eyes and a mop of brown hair.

“D- Tony!” The kid exclaimed, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “How are y-” Peter cut himself off suddenly, his brow furrowing in worry as he looked Tony up and down. “What’s wrong?”

Shit . He’d thought he was doing a good job of hiding his panic. Apparently, it wasn’t good enough.

“I have to go to D.C., Peter.”

“Why?”

“It’s… complicated. But you need to stay here. You cannot leave this Compound, do you understand? Don’t even go outside.”

“Why?”

“Is that the only word you know now?” Tony snapped, wincing inwardly at the way the kid flinched back. “I’m sorry, Peter. It’s just… you need to trust me on this, okay?”

“Okay.” There was such an innate look of faith in Peter’s eyes that it made Tony dizzy. “I trust you.”

“Good. I’m leaving Rhodey with you. Be safe, kiddo.”

“You too.”

Walking away from Peter’s nervous gaze was one of the hardest things Tony ever had to do, and he’d flown a nuke into a wormhole.

As soon as he entered the elevator, he ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to have Rhodey meet him in the garage. Minutes later, he found himself leaning heavily against one of his Audis while his best friend came jogging towards him as fast as his leg braces would allow.

“Tony? What’s wrong? F.R.I.D.A.Y. said it was an emergency?”

“Listen, I need you to stay here, okay? You can’t leave, not even for a second.”

“Of course, Tones, but why?”

The billionaire turned around to brace his palms against the car’s hood. “Secretary Ross called. He ordered me to go meet him in Washington.”

“Okay…” Rhodey hesitated, obviously confused, “and you didn’t just tell him to fuck off like usual because…?”

“He threatened Peter.”

“He… he what ?”

“He threatened Peter, Rhodey. And he knows . He knows who, and what , Peter is. I don’t know how, and I don’t know what he wants, but it can’t be good if he’s willing to play that card. Ross is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.”

“You can’t go, Tones.”

“I have to go!” He snapped, spinning to face his friend and letting his panic flash across his face. “He knew Peter’s name. He knew he was Spider-Man. He knew his damn SAT score, for fuck’s sake. I can’t risk it. I can’t risk him .”

“This is obviously a setup, Tony.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll have backup.”

“Who?”

Tony just looked at his friend in silence for a second until realization dawned on Rhodey’s face.

“ No , Tony.”

“They’re all we’ve got.” The billionaire pulled open the driver’s door and slid in.

Rhodey shook his head, grabbing the handle before Tony could slam it closed. “Let me come.”

“No. You’re the only one I trust with Peter. Please , Rhodey. Keep him safe.”

His best friend grit his teeth, staring at the ground for a few seconds before responding. “Alright. I hope you know what you’re doing, Tony.”

“Me too.”

The engine roared to life.

--

Tony had kept the burner phone in his pocket for months, but he’d never done more than just look at it.

Until today.

He flipped the top open, took a deep breath, and selected the only number in the phone’s contacts.

It rung twice before he picked up.

“Tony?”

“Steve. I need you."

Chapter Text

“Steve. I need you.” Breathe. “I need all of you.”

Breathe.

“Everyone?” Cap’s voice was quiet. Serious. In charge. Everything Tony couldn’t be right now.

“Everyone.” Peter needed everyone.

PeterPeterPeterPeterPeter.

Breathe.

“Where are you?”

“On my way to the jet. I’m going to Washington.”

“What’s in Washington?”

“Ross. A trap.” My kid, bloody and broken and alone, if I’m not careful.

“Then why are you going?”

“You heard about Peter Parker?” Peter Parker-Stark. My kid. Peter Parker-Stark.

Breathe.

“Peter who?”

Breathe.

“You’ve not been reading the news, then.”

“I’ve been… out of reach. Who’s Peter Parker?”

“My son.”

This time, it was Steve’s turn to breathe.

Breathe.

“Your… your son? Tony, I-I didn’t know you-”

“Not biologically. I adopted him.”

“You adopted a child, Tony? With our lifestyle? You can’t put a child in our-”

“He’s Spider-Man, and I don’t want to argue with you. Not now, Steve. Please.”

“Alright, Tony. Not now. What do you need us to do?”

“I need you to be ready to fight. Are you?”

“We are.”

“Good. Something tells me you’ll need to be.”

--

Ross was waiting for him.

“Stark.” There wasn’t even a flicker of a smile on the man’s face. “Glad you could make it.”

They were standing in a conference room. Besides a pair of guards standing by the door, the same two men who had escorted Tony there just minutes earlier, they were completely alone.

Tony may not have Peter’s spider senses, but he could still taste the danger in the air.

And he had no way out of it.

Steve had been incredulous when he’d told him the plan.

“You can’t just let him take you, Tony.”

“Calm down, Steve. We don’t even know that’s what he wants to do yet.”

“But that’s what you think he wants, isn’t it?”

“...Yes.”

“Tony-”

“He’ll take Peter, Steve. He’ll take him and he’ll torture him and then he’ll kill him. I can’t let that happen.”

A pause.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Protect Peter, and then get me out. In that order. Protecting him comes first, you understand me?”

Rogers didn’t like it, but Rogers didn’t need to. “I understand.”

“Good. Now, here’s what we’re going to do…”

“Ross.” Tony greeted, leaning casually against the conference table to his right. To an outsider, the billionaire looked as if he was in complete control. Every facet of his exterior was carefully groomed to exude confidence.

“I’m assuming you know why you’re here?”

“You assume wrong. Tell me, Secretary, why am I here?”

The guards both drew their guns in synchronized precision. They aimed them at Tony’s head.

“Tell me, Stark,” Ross began to walk casually around the billionaire. If Tony wanted to keep him in his line of sight, he would have to rotate almost continuously. It was a power move, plain and simple, “do you remember what I told you, the day I introduced the Avengers to the Accords?”

“You told us a lot of things.”

“That I did.” Ross stopped about a foot away from Tony, looking at him with eyes devoid of everything but a cold glint that made a shiver race up the billionaire’s spine. “I told you that if you came to a decision I didn’t like, you would retire.”

(“And if we come to a decision you don’t like?”

“Then you retire.”

Natasha had smiled. She’d known what he’d meant. It wasn’t good.)

“I signed the Accords.”

“You did, but your son hasn’t.”

“He’s a minor.”

Ross laughed, hard and cool and sharp enough to cut. “The Accords don’t give a shit if he’s a minor, Stark. I don’t give a shit if he’s a minor. He signs.”

“No.”

“That’s not up to you anymore.” Ross stepped away from him smoothly, pulling out a plush leather conference chair and sinking into it with an air of finality. “Please, Mister Stark, take a seat.”

A gun poking him in the back let Tony know that it wasn’t a suggestion.

“I’m his parent.” Tony sat on the edge of the chair, putting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward to fix Ross with a gaze that most would tremble in front of. Ross didn’t even flinch. “Everything to do with Peter is up to me.”

Ross raised a mocking eyebrow. “We’ll see.”

Something snapped inside Tony at Ross’ continued arrogance. “What the fuck do you want, Ross? There’s no way in hell this is just about my kid.”

Another laugh. Tony didn't think it was possible, but this one was even colder than the last. “Of course it isn’t. He’s just a piece in the game. A game that you put him in, Stark.”

Rage boiled in Tony’s stomach. “Then what the fuck is this about?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Ross shifted forward to match Tony’s rigid position. His voice turned more deadly with every word. “I know you’ve been harboring the Rogue Avengers. I know you’re the one who disabled the security systems on the Raft to get them out. I know you’ve been plotting with them. I know you know about the Infinity Stones.”

The Infinity Stones.

Tony did know about them. They all did. Thor and Banner had sent a scrambled interstellar communication about a month ago, warning about someone called Thanos and an Infinity Gauntlet.

But he didn’t know anything else. He didn’t know what Thanos wanted. He didn’t know where the stones were. He didn’t know anything.

He didn’t even know where Banner or Thor were.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Ross leaned back, smiling. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to jog your memory, won’t I?”

--

Something was wrong.

Peter wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was practically a genius. He saw it in the glimmer of terror in Tony’s eyes right before he turned away. He heard it in clipped responses he’d received from F.R.I.D.A.Y. when he asked why Mister Stark had left. He felt it in the way his spider senses had been screaming ever since Tony had showed up outside his door.

Currently, he could see it in the way Rhodey was making slow, tense circles around Peter as the teenager sat on the couch.

He could see it in the way the Colonel’s hand was glued to the gun sitting in his usually hidden holster.

Something was wrong, and Peter wasn’t stupid.

“Rhodey? What’s going on?”

The man looked at Peter steadily for a moment. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it, Peter.”

“That’s not fair!” Peter snapped, jumping to his feet and raising his hands in frustration. Rhodey quickly moved to cover him from the window. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything? I’m not a baby! If I’m in danger, I need to know.”

“We’re just trying to protect you, kid. Trust me, some things you’re better off not knowing.”

The teenager sank back into the couch with a sigh, noticing the way Rhodey’s shoulders lost some of their tension when he did so. “Whatever. Don’t tell me.”

“Sirs,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted, “there appears to be a security breach in the West Wing of the Compound.”

“I’m coming.” Rhodey pressed the button on his wristlet that deployed the Iron Patriot suit. “Stay here, Peter.”

Once he was gone, Peter sighed dramatically. The Compound had security breaches more often than you might think. Hell, even a squirrel could set off some of the more delicate systems if it was determined. Rhodey was just being paranoid.

And then the lights cut off, and Peter felt his first flash of fear.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” He whispered, sliding over the couch for cover and crouching nervously. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer.

Shit. Maybe Rhodey’s paranoia had a point to it, after all.

His advanced hearing picked up the sound of boots thudding against the stairs. Peter glanced around desperately. He had his web shooters, but no suit. Rhodey had moved him to an empty set of apartments in the Compound as well, so it was too far away to grab. On top of that, F.R.I.D.A.Y. being disabled meant that the elevators and windows were all on lockdown, and the only staircase was filled with intruders, apparently.

He was stuck.

What do I do?

The soldiers started pouring into the room. None of them had spotted him yet, since he was concealed behind the couch, but he knew it wouldn’t be long.

What do I do?

As the first man spotted the teenager and shouted, Peter hit the button on his watch three times.

--

Tony’s wrist blared an alarm, and he knew instantly what it was.

Peter hit his panic button.

His head snapped up to the slimy smirk crawling across Ross’ face.

No.

It’s too soon. This wasn’t part of the plan. Steve’s too far. He’s too far.

“You bastard,” he snarled, lunging to his feet and flinging himself towards the man. Fuck the guns, this bastard touched his fucking kid. Tony was going to tear his throat out with his bare hands, “you fucking bastard! I came! I fucking came, Ross.”

The guards caught him before he could reach the man, and shoved him back into the chair. Metal cuffs slid out of the arms and legs and secured Tony in place. Ross stayed seated, looking completely unruffled, as the billionaire fought violently against his restraints.

“You did, and you played right into my hand. You left him protected by a cripple, Stark. It was piteously easy to get my men into your Compound to take him.”

A second later, a technician poked his head into the conference room.

“Uh, Sir? They’ve secured the target. They’ll be at the facility in an hour.”

“Was the asset damaged?”

The asset. They were talking about Peter like he wasn’t a person. Like he wasn’t a kid. Tony’s kid.

“Not badly, Sir. I believe all the injuries are superficial.”

Peter was hurt. Peter was hurt. Peter was hurt.

“Good. Rax and Stat will escort our guest there now.” The guards, Rax and Stat, apparently, moved forward instantly. Ross fixed his attention back on Tony. “I apologize for the unpleasantries, Mister Stark. I would have preferred for this to have been a more civilized exchange, but it seems as though you’ve forced my hand. Don’t worry, though, you’ll see your precious Peter soon enough.”

The last thing he saw before the bag was fastened over his head was Ross’ smirk.

--

Peter was terrified.

He’d tried to fight his way out. It was fruitless, he knew, but it didn’t stop him from trying. In the end, they’d brought him down with a taser powerful enough to knock Captain America himself on his ass. Then, they’d cuffed his wrists and ankles in restraints that must have been vibranium because, no matter how hard Peter squirmed and strained, he couldn’t get them to budge.

Which meant that whoever had kidnapped him knew he was Spider-Man and had access to all the fun toys.

Which was so not cool, by the way.

They hauled him, kicking and screaming, into a jet waiting outside. Once they were inside, they fastened his restraints to a vibranium bar in a corner of the cargo hold. Six soldiers situated themselves around him.

If Peter wasn’t so scared, he might have been flattered at how dangerous they thought he was.

“Hey!” He yelled, fighting uselessly against the metal cuffs around his wrists. “Hey! What do you want? Hello?! Anybody listening to me?”

Nothing. The men around him didn’t even flinch.

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure kidnapping a minor is a felony. It’s also just an asshole move, so there’s that, too.”

The guards continued to ignore him, so Peter continued to talk.

“Does anyone have flashcards for AP Chemistry? I’m kinda bored and I don’t think you guys were nice enough to grab my backpack on the way out. I’ve got a test to study for on Monday, but I’m probably gonna fail it now. Thanks for that.”

Man, these guys looked like they were made of stone.

“You know, my dad is going to come for me and it’s not going to be fun for you guys when he does.” Peter was briefly surprised by how easily the phrase “my dad” rolled off his tongue before the fear swallowed it up. “Have you ever been hit by Iron Man’s repulser gun thingy? Cause, to be honest, I haven’t either but it really doesn’t look like it’s something I’d want to put on my bucket list.”

The guard closest to him swung around suddenly and slammed the butt of his gun across Peter’s face. It hurt. A lot. “Shut up.”

“I’m not very good at that.” Peter said, probing a cut on the inside of his mouth with a wince. “Tony’ll tell you that. In fact, shutting up is probably, like, the last thing I’m likely to do in this situation.”

“Shut up, or I’ll make you shut up.” The butt of the gun slammed down on the back of Peter’s head. The world spun. “Do you understand, you little shit?”

A voice come somewhere from Peter’s left. “Just give him the shit Ross gave us. We’ll be there soon, anyway.”

Peter nearly lost himself in fear when the soldier disappeared and returned with a vial of purple liquid in his hands. The teenager jerked away as best he could, but his bonds were unforgiving and two men rushed forward to hold him in place.

“Told you I’d make you shut up, little brat.” The soldier said, prepping a syringe with the purple stuff and smiling in a way that definitely wasn’t friendly.

“What is that?” The needle slid into his arm. Peter steeled himself. “I’m not afraid of you.”

There might have been an answer, but the world and his thoughts swirled away from him like water down a drain.

--

When they pulled off the bag, Tony found himself in a cell he recognized.

The Raft.

Peter.

His head swivelled around, and he nearly sobbed with relief when he saw the kid stretched out on a cot opposite him. The relief, however, quickly turned to rage.

Peter was unconscious, his face tilted towards Tony. His cheekbone was bruised and cut and there was blood matted in his hair. Where Tony was unrestrained, Peter’s arms are shackled with thick cuffs.

He lunged forward, stumbling slightly as dizziness threatened to land him on his ass. Readjusting to the light after spending so long in darkness was a lot harder in practice than in seemed in theory, apparently. Tony dropped onto the edge of Peter’s bed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“Peter?” No response. The kid’s face was pale and unmoving. “C’mon, buddy. You gotta wake up.”

Tony could feel a pretty sizable bump on the back of Peter’s head, but there wasn’t another reason why the kid was unresponsive. Then, he saw the pinprick of speared blood on the crook of his elbow.

Drugged, then. How the hell did Ross get a hold of drugs that could drop Spider-Man?

“Okay, kid. You get your beauty sleep and I’ll be right here.” He slid onto the cot, pulling the teenager’s head into his lap and brushing an errant curl out of his face.

It took another hour for the kid to stir. As soon as his glazed pupils peeked out from underneath his eyelids, Tony was shushing him.

“Hey there, buddy. Just hush now, alright? You’re okay. I’m right here.”

Peter blinked slowly before opening his mouth to speak. It took him playing with his jaw and tongue for a minute before he could find his words. “Wha’ happ’ned? Where ‘re we?”

Tony briefly toyed with the idea of shushing him again and telling him to go back to sleep, just to spare the kid a few more moments of simplicity. Instead, he opted for telling Peter a clipped version of the truth in the most comforting tone he could muster. “Ross took us, but everything is going to be okay.”

It took a few moments for Tony’s explanation to register with Peter through the haze of sedatives. “Ross? Secretary Ross?” The kid’s drunk pronunciation of “secretary” sounded more like gibberish than an actual word, but Tony got the message.

“Yes. He… he wants something from me.”

“What?”

Tony sighed. There was a reason Peter didn’t know about Thanos or the Infinity Stones, and Tony intended to keep him the in dark for as long as possible. Of course, with Ross, it may not be long. “He thinks I’ve been protecting the Rogue Avengers.”

“Haven’t though, have you?”

“No.” Tony dragged his knuckles down the kid’s cheek. Peter’s eyes fluttered at the comforting gesture. “How’re you feeling?”

“Head hurts. ‘M fine.”

Tony sighed. “Those are two contradicting statements, you know.”

Ignoring him, Peter pushed himself upright on the cot. He would've toppled right back into Tony’s lap if his mentor hadn’t rushed to steady him.

“Maybe sitting up isn’t the bed idea right now, huh?”

The kid shook his head stubbornly. The movement must have made his vision spin, because Tony had to tighten his grip on his shoulders as he tipped forward. “No. ‘M good.”

Yep. Peter may not have been born a Stark, but he was definitely one now. Lack of self preservation and perpetual stubbornness were family traits, it would seem. Hell, they even transcended genetics.

“Alright, kiddo, just… just stay off your feet for a bit, okay? I don’t think my poor old man heart can take it, and you need to give your metabolism time to burn through whatever it is they gave you.”

Peter murmured what Tony assumed was an affirmative, considering the fact that the kid tucked himself against the billionaire’s side with a contented hum. From the way the kid’s eyelids were drooping lower and lower with each blink, Tony assumed that he wouldn’t be awake for much longer.

Tony didn’t know what they’d given him, but he didn’t like it at all.

The billionaire dropped his head back against the cell’s wall with a sigh. He didn’t know what Ross was planning. Obviously, he wanted information from Tony, but it was information that Tony didn’t even have. He hadn’t been harboring the Rogue Avengers. Hell, even after talking to Steve, he didn’t have a clue where the group was hiding. And Tony seemed to know as much about the Infinity Stones as Ross did, which was basically only that they existed and that somebody named Thanos wanted to use them to destroy the universe.

You know, pretty light stuff.

The only thing that Ross actually had right was that Tony had knocked out the security systems at the Raft when Steve had come to break out his teammates. Tony’s fight had never been with them. He’d had F.R.I.D.A.Y. track Steve and used her to put their systems down for maintenance when he arrived.

He would never forget the sight of Wanda, collared like a dog, wrapped up in a straightjacket. He couldn’t let that slide.

But if Ross already knew that, then there wasn’t much else for Tony to tell.

If Tony actually knew something that Ross wanted, he would have leverage. Leverage that he could use to buy time. Leverage that he could use to flip the odds. Leverage that he could use to protect Peter.

As it was, he didn’t have anything.

And that terrified him.

--

Peter was out like a light by the time Ross strolled up to the glass viewing wall of the cell. The man was alone, and he looked so unassuming that, for the briefest moment, Tony could almost pretend that he wasn’t the person who had drugged and kidnapped his kid.

Almost.

“Stark.”

Tony adjusted his hold on Peter, tensing his arm just slightly against the kid’s back. “Ross.”

Peter didn’t even stir. Tony glanced down at him worriedly. What the hell had Ross given him?

Somehow, the question must have shown on his face. Ross laughed. “We synthesized the drug just for him. It’s a mix of long-acting sedatives and muscle relaxants. I’m glad it appears to be effective. We had to make do with unenhanced individuals and lesser mutants as test subjects. After all, there’s only one Spider-Man.”

If he wasn’t so desperate to keep Peter out of this, Tony might have tried to break through the reinforced glass with his bare hands. But he would have to let go of his kid to do it, and that was so not happening. Instead, he just stilled the hand that was carding through Peter’s hair to clench it into a fist. “What do you want, Ross?”

“Straight to the point, I see. I respect that in a man.” Ross clasped his hands behind his back, fixing Tony with a cool stare. “If you must know, I have a two-pronged plan.”

“And that is?”

“You see, I need information from you. Information that I know you’ll be,” Ross paused, smirking a little, “unwilling to give. It also happens that the United States government and I are very interested in what makes Spider-Man tick. Can you see where these two needs of mine may overlap?”

Tony could, and he hated it. “You sick bastard. He’s a child.”

“He’s an enhanced vigilante that has been evading the law for months. Frankly, Stark, I don’t care how old he is.”

“Is this how our government handles the treatment of minors, now? By locking them in a maximum security prison for illegal experimentation?”

“I have jurisdiction over the regulation and treatment of enhanced individuals. What the rest of the government doesn’t know can’t hurt them.”

Hope kindled in Tony’s chest. Ross was acting without the permission of the President or Congress. He’d gone rogue. “Listen, Ross, do whatever you want with me, but leave Peter out of this.”

Tony knew it was a useless plea. Ross had his eyes set on the kid, and he wasn’t about to let his prize go.

“Very sweet.” The man drawled. “In fact, I’m touched. You do still have a chance to protect him, you know. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. If you give me some satisfactory answers, I’ll sedate the boy when we cut into his chest to take a sample of his lungs.”

Tony tensed so suddenly that it jostled Peter. The kid shifted weakly against him and murmured blearily.

“T’ny?”

“Shush, kiddo. You’re alright. Go back to sleep, okay?”

The kid nestled his face more firmly into Tony’s stomach and settled.

When Tony looked back up, Ross was turning to leave with a hard glint in his eyes. “You know, Stark,” he said, strolled towards the exit, “you should’ve stayed heartless.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Tony with nothing but a silent cell and a kid he couldn’t protect.

Chapter Text

Steve had never actually thought that Tony would use the phone.

Why would he? Tony had grown so used to betrayal that he’d made an art of shutting people out. It had taken Steve years to find his way onto the man’s concise list of people he trusted.

They had become teammates, and then friends, and then, tentatively, family.

And Steve had shattered it.

In a way, the soldier couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision. The Accords were wrong, and he had never been the type of person to stand idly by when his beliefs were threatened. He never had been. And Bucky… Bucky was important to him. In the end, Steve would always choose him over everything else.

He knew how dangerous that was.

But he’d meant every word of that letter. He had been trying to protect Tony when he’d decided to conceal the circumstances of his parents deaths from him, but in his rawest moments, Steve knew that he had also been trying to protect himself.

The family he’d made with Tony, with the team, gave him stability for the first time since he’d lost Bucky. And, when it came down to it, he didn’t want to lose that feeling of home.

And so he’d hidden the truth, partly out of misplaced compassion and partly out of selfishness.

The image of Tony’s eyes, betrayed and broken, in Siberia was burned into his soul. When he died, Steve was sure that they’d cut him open and find that particular sin etched into his lungs, because he could feel it every time he breathed.

Captain America was meant to be the symbol of righteousness. But Steve Rogers? Steve Rogers wasn’t. Steve Rogers was just a frightened kid from Brooklyn who’s home had aged and crumbled down without him.

So, no, Steve had never actually thought that Tony would call. But he had kept the phone on him at all times, just in case.

And then it rang.

“Steve.” Tony sounded wrecked. In the background, Steve could hear the growl of an engine. “I need you.” The billionaire paused for a moment, and all the soldier could do was listened to his ragged breathing. “I need all of you.”

Steve’s response was instantaneous. Even as he asked the question, the Captain was sending out the signal for the Rogues to assemble at their base. “Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

This was serious. Tony wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t. Steve slipped straight into command mode. Gather data, create a plan, and execute. “Where are you?”

“On my way to the jet. I’m going to Washington.”

“What’s in Washington?”

“Ross. A trap.”

Secretary Ross? Why would Tony have a problem with Secretary Ross? Tony had signed the Accords. Tony was supposed to be safe. “Then why are you going?”

“You heard about Peter Parker?”

Peter Parker? “Peter who?”

“You’ve not been reading the news, then.”

Steve winced. He’d made an effort to stay relatively updated on Tony’s movements during his exile, but he’d had to go underground a month ago when a team of Special Ops forces got a little too close for comfort. What had he missed? “I’ve been… out of reach. Who’s Peter Parker?”

“My son.”

For a moment, Steve could feel the entire world screech to a halt. “Your… your son? Tony, I-I didn’t know you-”

The billionaire cut him off. “Not biologically. I adopted him.”

“You adopted a child, Tony?” How could he be so careless? Tony was supposed to be safe. He wasn’t supposed to be giving his enemies a new weakness to exploit, and certainly not one that involved a child. “With our lifestyle? You can’t put a child in our-”

“He’s Spider-Man,” Tony’s son was Spider-Man? The little punk from Queens that had been at the airport? Jesus, Steve had punched Tony’s kid, “and I don’t want to argue with you. Not now, Steve. Please.”

Steve didn’t miss the way Tony’s voice cracked. The billionaire was right. Now wasn’t the time for that conversation. “Alright, Tony. Not now. What do you need us to do?”

“I need you to be ready to fight. Are you?”

I’m a soldier, Steve thought, a familiar bitterness rising in his throat, in the end, that’s all we’re good for. To fight, to die, and to be replaced. “We are.”

“Good. Something tells me you’ll need to be.” Tony took a ragged breath. “I think Ross is going to try to take me in.”

“You think he wants to arrest you? Why?”

“I’ve been pissing him off for months. Shit, I should have been thinking about it. It didn’t matter in the beginning, the only person I was risking was myself, but I should’ve played along the moment I ended up with Peter.”

“He can’t just arrest you for pissing him off, Tony.”

“He can arrest me for assisting in the escape of about four prisoners from a maximum security prison.”

Somewhere, deep down, Steve had always known it was Tony. He’d just been too afraid to believe it.

“So it was you.”

“Who else could have hacked into their systems? Of course it was me, Steve.” The billionaire’s voice dropped so low that Steve almost missed his next words. “The fight was never with them. It was never with you.”

No. It was just with Bucky. And I’m sorry, Tony, but he’s the last piece of home that I have.

“He’s back in cryo.” Steve doesn’t know why he says it.

He hears Tony take a sharp breath. “I see.” He swallows. “Is he… is he safe?”

Steve can’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

“I…” For a breath, Steve doesn’t think Tony will finish the thought. “I know what it’s like to have someone mess with your head. That doesn’t mean I can forget what he did. Hell, it doesn’t even mean that I can forgive what he did. But… there are more important things for me to worry about.” A shaky inhale crackled through the receiver. “And, Steve? I know what it’s like, now, to have someone you’d throw everything away for. To have someone that’s more important than anything else. I… I understand.”

I understand why you did it. I understand.

Steve was speechless. In the end, he all he could stutter out was a shaky, “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Peter?” For a moment, the panic in Tony’s voice faded and was replaced by fondness. It made a lump form in Steve’s throat. “You’ll… you’ll love him. He’s a lot like you, actually. Sometimes he’ll say something, and all I can think of is-” The billionaire cut himself of suddenly. Steve could practically see him shake his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have much time. As much as I’d love to finish up this ridiculously sappy chat, we need to go over the plan.”

“Do you have one?”

“Of course I do. I’m a genius, remember?”

Tony’s cockiness made Steve smile. Just like old times. “And what is it?”

“You’re going to let Ross arrest me.”

Why did Stark always come up with the worst plans? “You can’t just let him take you, Tony.”

“Calm down, Steve. We don’t even know that’s what he wants to do yet.”

“But that’s what you think he wants, isn’t it?”

“...Yes.” The admission was reluctant.

“Tony-”

“He’ll take Peter, Steve. He’ll take him and he’ll torture him and then he’ll kill him. I can’t let that happen.”

Tony wasn’t going to back down. For a moment, Steve’s mind flashed back to Bucky.

(“I know what it’s like, now, to have someone you’d throw everything away for.”)

No. Steve couldn’t stop him, but he could help him.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Protect Peter, and then get me out. In that order. Protecting him comes first, you understand me?”

Every single fiber of Steve’s being was reeling against the plan. Following a course of action that involved Tony placing himself purposefully in danger was something he never would have allowed before. But things had changed, and it wasn’t just the team anymore.

(“But… there are more important things for me to worry about.”)

 “I understand.”

“Good. Now, here’s what we’re going to do. Peter’s at the Compound with Rhodey. I need the team to gather there. I’ll let Rhodes know what’s going on before you get there so he doesn’t, you know, try to kill you.”

“Doesn’t it seem a little dangerous for the Avengers to gather at the Avengers Compound?”

“You’re right. It’s obvious, and that’s going to be our shield. No one would expect us to be so bold.”

Steve had to admit, Tony had thought this through. “Alright. And what do we do then?”

“Protect Peter. And believe me, it’ll be harder than you think. Once he knows Ross has me, he’s going to lose it. Honestly, protecting him might mean drugging the kid and locking him in a closet.” At Steve’s chuckle, Tony sighed. “I’m only half joking.”

“Sounds like he has all the Stark charisma, then.”

“Believe me, he’s got all my brains and all your righteousness. If you weren’t a Capsicle back when he was conceived, I’d say we had an accidental kid when neither of us was looking.”

The banter felt so easy, so simple. “You might want to look into a DNA test, Stark. Weren’t you a playboy, back then?”

“I already had one done, as it happens. It was negative.”

Steve laughed. “Well, good to know you covered all your bases.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve made sure to cover every base.”

A familiar exasperation crept up at Tony’s childishness. “Tony.”

The engine cut off, and every hint of humor evaporated from his old friend’s voice. “I have to go, Steve, but I need you to promise me something first.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that you’ll die for him.”

It was direct. It was unwavering. It was so Tony. “I promise.”

And he would. Steve Rogers would die, without question, for that kid, because he’d never heard Tony talk about anyone that way before.

Peter, Steve thinks, that’s a good name.

--

When Tony calculated that Ross had been gone for about two hours, he shook Peter awake. He needed to evaluate just how lucid the kid was going to be before making a plan.

“Morning, kiddo.” Peter blinked, and some of the haziness seemed to evaporate from his gaze. Relief flooded through the billionaire. “How’re you feeling? And I need an honest answer, Peter. No messing around, okay?”

The kid seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. “I think ‘m okay? Still feel a little… fuzzy.”

Tony studied Peter’s pupils for a minute. They were definitely still blown, but the kid was decidedly more coherent than he was just hours before. Little victories, he supposed. “Alright. That’s okay. We’ll deal with it.”

“C’n I sit up?” Tony rushed to oblige him, propping the teenager against the wall that stood flush with the cot. Thankfully, Peter seemed to have regained at least most of his balance and managed to stay upright without his parent’s help. “What’s the plan?”

Tony smiled at the kid’s eagerness. “We wait.”

“We what?”

“Look around you, Peter.” The kid did, too, much to Tony’s amusement. “What do you see?”

“A prison cell?”

“A prison cell in a containment facility designed specifically to hold enhanced individuals. If you’ve got any fancy tricks up your sleeve on how to escape somewhere like that, please let me know. Otherwise, we do the only thing we can do. We wait.”

Peter glared at him. Tony tried not to take it too personally. He knew the kid was pissed at the situation, not him. “Wait for what?”

“For nothing, Peter.” Slowly, Tony slid his hand over Peter’s wrist, tapping the pulse point gently. The kid cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise stayed still. “You feeling tired again, buddy?”

For a moment, the kid looked like he was going to protest. Then, realization dawned on his face. “Y-yeah.” Tony nearly snickered at his over exaggerated blinking. “‘M not feelin’ too good, actually.”

The billionaire brought his hand to the kid’s forehead, brushing hair from his face and only partially faking his concern. “C’mere, kiddie. Looks like it’s your naptime.”

Peter did a brilliant job of murmuring a series of slurred protests as Tony tucked him against his chest. He pressed his face against the kid’s hair, right above his ear, and breathed the words as quietly as he possibly could, trusting the kid’s enhanced hearing to pick up the whisper. “Anything we say, they can hear. Cap’s coming. He’ll figure it out. We just have to hang on for a little while, okay?”

“Captain America?” Peter’s voice was muffled against Tony’s collarbone. The billionaire could feel each one of the teenager’s warm breaths. It was surprisingly comforting. “I thought you guys weren’t talking.”

Trust the kid to make their catastrophic fallout sound like high school drama. “Yeah, well, that changed, okay? Now pretend to sleep, will you? Or actually sleep. Don’t think I didn’t notice that your pupils are still blown to all hell.”

“I’ve been sleeping.”

“Shut up, kid.”

He pulled away, then, but kept the kid’s forehead pressed against him. He could tell Peter was still awake just by his breathing, but the security cameras couldn’t.

It only took Ross a few minutes to arrive.

Tony had been expecting him. The billionaire had, after all, just offered him the perfect opportunity. The man needed to catch them off kilter. Tony’s open display of affection and Peter’s faked drowsiness gave him an ideal moment. When the kid was vulnerable, Tony was weak.

The door to the cell slid open, and Tony pushed Peter up and behind him in an instant. The kid stumbled slightly, surprised by the sudden jostling, but Tony kept his hand fisted around the collar of his sweatshirt and steadied him. He pinned them against a wall, shoving his back against Peter’s chest. He could feel the kid’s ribcage push rapidly against his spine as the teenager’s breathing spiked in fear.

Ross smiled wryly as he entered the cell, flanked by four large soldiers. “You think that’s gonna stop me from taking him, Stark?”

“I can hope, can’t I?”

Ross wasn’t amused. “Where is Doctor Banner?”

Tony flinched. “I don’t know.”

“Where is Thor?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know about the being known as Thanos?”

“Besides the fact that he wants to destroy the universe? Nothing.”

“You see, Stark, those are the wrong answers.” Ross gestured for his men to move forward. “I warned you about the repercussions if you didn’t cooperate. I suppose you need a little reminder.”

“Ross, this isn’t about him.” Tony was ripped away from Peter roughly. When he tried to fight back, one of the guards slammed a fist across his face. He tasted blood. “Leave him alone! He’s just a kid.” Another punch. Shit, these guys hit hard.

“Stop! Don’t hurt him! Mister Stark!” The kid was fighting back too, although it was proving a lot more difficult since his hands were shackled in front of him. One of the soldiers pressed a taser to his neck, and Peter would have nosedived if another guard hadn’t caught his arm.

“Peter!” The current stopped, and the kid gasped for breath, blinking rapidly as he fought to stay conscious.

“Well,” Ross clapped his hands, smiling at Peter in a way that made Tony’s blood boil, “what a sweet display. Now, however, we have a lesson to teach to a certain billionaire. Bring it in, please.”

Two men, dressed in lab coats rather than body armor, pushed a large container through the cell door. For a second, Tony thought it must contain some kind of toxic chemical.

When he realized what it actually was, his heart dropped through his shoes.

It was just water. But Tony knew firsthand what you could do with water, if you had enough sadistic imagination. And Ross had plenty of that.

The scientists locked the wheels on the container in place, and quickly retreated to a safe distance, clutching tablets in their hands and looking at Peter curiously. Clinically.

Like he was a fucking science experiment.

The guards holding Peter dragged the kid over to the tub and shoved him to his knees in front of it. Ross knelt beside him.

“Tell me, Peter. How long can you hold your breath?”

The kid stared at the water without a flicker of fear on his face. Tony felt pride glow in his stomach right alongside his dread. “I don’t know.”

“Well, it seems as though your father would like us to find out.” Ross nodded at the guards. One of them held Peter still while the other took a fistful of his curls and shoved his head under the surface.

The kid started jerking almost instantly. Within a minute, Peter was all-out thrashing. Three more men had to lunge in to hold him under. Hell, even Tony started struggling so earnestly that a third man had to come just to restrain him.

They were nearing on two minutes when the billionaire broke.

“Let him up, Ross!” Tony yelled. Peter’s movements were weakening rapidly. Terror swept through him. “Stop it! Can’t you see he’s done?”

“This is more than just torture, Stark. It’s an experiment. It appears that our subject is still conscious.” Ross turned to the two scientists behind him. “Call time when he stops struggling.”

It took another thirty slow, agonizing seconds for Peter’s jerking to still.

“Pull him out.” The guard yanked the kid’s head up. Water dripped down his nose and upper lip, but his face stayed slack. “Wake him up, would you?”

Tony let out a yell of dissent when one of the soldier’s shoved a cattle prod into the kid’s side. It worked, though. Peter woke up with a yelp, and then proceeded to cough and vomit up a bucket’s worth of water.

As soon as he finished, and slumped against his guards in exhaustion, Ross met Tony’s eyes with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Again.”

--

The Compound was in disarray when Steve and the rest of the Rogues arrived.

Rhodey, outfitted in the full Iron Patriot armor, landed heavily in front of them before they could even reach the front door.

“Colonel Rhodes.”

“Captain.” The faceplate retracted to reveal Rhodey’s distressed eyes. “Tony told me you were coming.”

For a breath, both of them just stared at each other.

“Where’s Stark’s kid?”

The guilt in Rhodey’s eyes told Steve the answer before the Colonel even opened his mouth. “He’s gone. They took him. I was supposed to protect him, damn it, and they took him.”

This wasn’t part of the plan.

“We’ll get them back.”

Rhodey’s eyes widened. “Them? He has Tony, too?”

Ah. So Tony didn’t fill Rhodey in on the plan, then. “Yes.”

“Shit.” If there had been anything solid to kick nearby, Steve had a feeling Rhodey wouldn’t be holding back. “Shit. That idiot. I told him not to go. And what does he do? Something stupid, just like he always does, because he’s Tony fucking Stark and he thinks he’s fucking invincible. I’m going to kick his brilliant ass when I-”

“As much as I adore the idea of giving Stark hell, I have a feeling we might have better things to be doing.” Natasha had slid forward silently. Sometimes, Steve forgot just how deadly she was.

He could see it, then. All slyness and coiled tension. Natasha was not a force anyone could withstand.

Rhodey jumped into action, running a trembling hand down his face and composing himself in the way only a soldier can. Steve felt respect for the man flare in his gut. “She’s right. C’mon, Happy and I have set up camp in one of the conference rooms.”

The team slotted back into their past roles seamlessly. Rhodey seemed a little twitchy, and Vision was disappointed at the absence of Wanda, but there were no other blips in the programming as everyone got to work trying to track down any signs of Ross, Tony, or Peter.

As soon as Steve had everyone organized and working on their respective tasks, he gestured for Rhodey to follow him out of the room. He found himself watching the man’s leg braces with a strong pang of guilt as the Colonel obliged.

“How are you holding up?” Steve asked, pointing to the couch. “I know you and Tony are close.”

Rhodey dropped down beside the Captain with a heavy sigh. “It’s not just him I’m worried about.”

Steve hesitated on his next words. “What can you tell me about them?”

“About Tony and Peter?” When Steve nodded an affirmative, Rhodey’s expression turned soft. “Peter’s fifteen. The kid looks at Tony like he hung all of the damn stars in the sky just for him,” he paused, shaking his head a little, “but Tony looks at Peter like he’s the reason that he did it.” And then, as quickly as Rhodey’s gaze had gentled, it turned pensive and tense. “I can also tell you that as long as they have Peter, they’ve got Tony, too. He’ll do anything to keep that kid safe.”

“Anything?”

Rhodey met his gaze head on. There was certainty in his eyes when he spoke. “Anything.”

That threw Steve off balance, but only briefly. “Tony said Peter is Spider-Man.”

“He is.”

“What are his abilities? His heightened strength I saw firsthand. Anything else?”

“Super strength, like you said. Enhanced senses. Accelerated metabolism and a healing factor. Oh, and he, uh, sticks to things.”

After everything Steve had seen, that admission barely made him blink. “His webs aren’t part of his physical abilities, then?”

“Nah. The kid designed them himself. Uses these little webshooters on his wrists.”

“So he’s smart.”

Rhodey laughed. “He’s a genius. For perspective, he can keep up with Tony in the lab.”

No wonder Stark likes him. “If he’s that brilliant, he and Tony might just break themselves out on their own. Ross won’t even know what hit him.”

There was a spark of something in Rhodey's eyes. It looked a little like gratitude. A little like forgiveness. “Damn straight.”

--

They didn’t stop until even the cattle prod wouldn’t rouse the kid.

“Is it breathing?” Ross’ voice was flippant, as if he was talking about the weather rather than the limp kid on the ground at his feet. Hell, the man even called Peter “it,” as if Tony’s child wasn’t even a person.

One of the scientists rushed forward to check. “Yes, Sir.”

Tony felt a modicum of his panic release at that. Peter was breathing, which meant that he was alive. And Tony could work with alive.

“See, Stark?” Ross gestured for the guards to deposit the kid on his cot. “I didn’t break your pet just yet. Now, what do you say?”

The billionaire spat on the ground, and one of the soldiers tossed Peter onto the cot and jabbed the cattle prod into the the teenager’s stomach. Even while unconscious, the kid’s face scrunched up in pan as his muscle seized.

Tony ground his teeth together, feeling every one of the kid’s jerks deep in his chest. “Thank you.” He snarled. The words tasted like ash.

Peter went still. Tony strained against his guard’s iron grip. Ross just snickered.

“I’ll be back in exactly four hours.” There was a small screen just above the cell’s door. A countdown popped up, and Tony watched as the seconds started ticking away. “We’ll see if our little exercise did anything to loosen your tongue.”

Then the soldiers restraining him let go, and one gave him a hard shove towards Peter as they retreated. By the time Tony looked up again, the cell was empty.

He didn’t waste any time in lunging for his kid. His hand went straight to his forehead, and he winced when he realized that Peter was freezing. Tony brushed wet curls from his face before slapping the kid’s cheek gently.

“C’mon, kiddie. Rise and shine.”

Peter came to fighting.

His shackled hands rushed up in a blur of motion. Tony just barely managed to block the clumsy blow as the kid’s eyes darted wildly around him.

“Whoa there, Peter. Easy, buddy. Focus up, now. It’s just me.”

The kid calmed instantly at the sound of Tony’s voice, relaxing back against the cot and looking more than a little disoriented. “Dad?”

Tony’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. “Yeah, buddy. I’m right here.”

He pushed the kid onto his side as soon as the coughing started. Memories of his time with the Ten Rings threatened to overcome him as he listened to his kid hack and wretch up water over the side of the cot. He had no doubt that Ross was aware of his history, and had chosen this particular torture method just to mess with the billionaire’s head.

He wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of watching him break.

After a while, the coughing eased and Peter groaned. “That sucked. Like, worse than that one Spanish quiz I made a 70 on.”

Despite himself, Tony laughed. He really loved this kid. “That bad, huh? Sure you’re not being just a teensie bit overdramatic?”

Peter chuckled, pushing himself up as best he could with shackled wrists and resting with his shoulder pressed against his parent. Tony slid an arm around his back, and the kid looked over at him with a watery stare. “We-we’re gonna get out of this, right? Everything’s gonna be okay?”

Peter wanted Tony to promise. He wanted to hear his hero, his dad, tell him that the world wasn’t actually as fucked up as Tony knew it was.

Peter wanted him to lie.

He couldn’t do it.

“I hope so, buddy. I hope so.”

Chapter Text

After Ross’ four hours drained into nothingness, they came for Peter.

They came for him and they took him.

That was 72 hours ago.

And Tony knew that number exactly, because the screen over the door had been counting up every single second since they’d ripped the kid out of his arms. He couldn’t decide which was worse: watching Peter suffer firsthand or sitting in an empty cell, wondering if he would ever see the teenager again.

It was the worst form of torture that Tony could think of.

When the clock showed that it had been 79 hours and 34 minutes since they’d taken him, Ross arrived.

He didn’t enter the cell. He stood just outside the window, smiling viciously as Tony stalked over and clenched his fists.

“Where the hell is he?”

Ross laughed. It sounded like shattering glass. “Do you have a guess, Stark?”

Tony’s mouth snapped shut. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the man. “What?”

“A few days ago, I asked you how long it would take for your child to start screaming. After some extensive experimentation, I’ve figured it out. Would you like to guess?”

The breath that rushed through Tony’s chest was entirely involuntary and did nothing to ease his sudden lightheadedness. “Fuck you, Ross.”

“It took him a little over seven hours. It was the spinal tap that did him in. Frankly, I was a little disappointed. I was betting on at least a day.”

Tony slammed a fist into the glass. “Give him back.”

Ross smiled, and then tapped a button on his watch. Two guards came around the corner almost instantly. “Mister Stark is rather eager to see his child. Would you mind collecting the subject from the experimentation unit?”

The subject. He said it as if Peter is nothing but an interesting anomaly or a piece of leverage to him. It made Tony feel sick. Ross doesn’t care that Peter is just a child. He doesn’t care that he likes his sandwiches squished down flat. He doesn’t care that his favorite Star Wars movie is A New Hope, even though he agrees that Empire Strikes Back is aesthetically the better film. He doesn’t care that the kid decided to be a superhero not for the glory, but because he’s so good and so pure that he just couldn’t stand the concept of doing nothing in a world so full of evil.

He doesn’t care that he’s Peter.

Peter Parker-Stark. My kid. Peter Parker-Stark.

When they drag him around the corner, Tony nearly pukes.

As far as the billionaire can tell, Peter isn’t conscious. As frightening as that is, Tony can’t help feeling a little relieved. If the kid was out, he wasn’t in pain. And from the looks of him, being awake meant being in a lot of pain.

There’s so much blood, and it’s everywhere. Some of it is old, dried and congealed and almost black like tar, and some of it is new, turning the kid’s pale skin into glistening rivers of bright red. His torso is a mess of bruises and clinical incisions. Tony feels a surge of revulsion. They didn’t just torture the kid, they opened him up. Pulled him apart so they could see how he ticked. The kid’s head is hanging low, chin tucked against his bare chest, and his feet are dragging uselessly on the ground. His two guards appear to be holding all of his weight.

They throw Peter into the cell, and Tony catches him before the can hit the ground. A small metal box gets tossed in too before the door clicks shut.

Ross’ voice grates on Tony’s nerves as he hauls the kid’s deadweight over to the cot. The man is staring at the teenager with a look of morbid fascination. “We’ve conducted all the experiments we needed. Do you know what that means, Stark?”

I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about it.

Instead of looking at Ross, Tony busies himself with situating Peter’s floppy limbs more comfortably on the stiff mattress.

“It means that if you keep being uncooperative, he’s outlived his usefulness.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“I’ll be back. We’ve given you a basic medical kit. Keep him alive in the meantime, will you? I want him to die screaming.”

Ross and the soldiers exit without another word.

Tony stares at the kid and feels momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer number of injuries he sees. This is the kid that he took to be his own. The kid who laughed in his lab and loved to look at the stars. The kid that he swore he would protect, no matter the cost.

He’d failed him. Just like he’d failed everyone else who had ever mattered to him.

I should let him die.

The thought takes Tony so off guard that he physically sways. To his shame, he actually toys with the prospect. If the billionaire did nothing, there was a decent chance that Peter would never wake up. A few of the newer incisions were still bleeding pretty heavily, and the kid had already lost a lot of blood. Judging from his weak and erratic pulse point, Peter would already be a goner without his enhanced healing. Tony knew that dying from blood loss wasn’t so bad, especially considering that Peter was already out. It would be quick. Tony would hold him. Peter would never even know.

(“I want him to die screaming.”)

But even as he ran the scenario through his head, the billionaire was snatching the med kit from the ground and pulling an antiseptic wipe out of a packet. He couldn’t do it. Maybe it was selfish, but Tony found himself incapable of facing a world without Peter.

Steve will come. Hang in there, kid. Steve will come, and I’ll take you home.

Tony wanted to clean up the teenager’s face first, but he knew that the wounds that needed the most immediate attention were on his chest and back. The billionaire wiped away as much of the blood as he could before carefully cleaning and bandaging the cuts. Ross didn’t give him any needle and thread, probably because the needle could have been used as a lockpick or a weapon, so his options for the deeper wounds were limited. He put pressure on the worst of the incisions until the bleeding slowed and then sealed them as best he could with butterfly bandages. Tony would just have to hope that Peter’s super healing would kick in soon and do the rest.

Tony propped Peter up against the wall when he noticed the kid’s breath wheezing, shoving one of their rock hard pillows behind his head. He let his hands linger more than was strictly when he moved on to clean up the kid’s face, carefully wiping away the crusty blood, snot, and vomit smeared across Peter’s mouth and chin. Tony couldn’t stop his fingers from trembling when he got to the tear tracks running down the teenager’s cheeks. He did his best to clean some of the dirt and sweat from Peter’s curls, too.

Once he’d finished, Tony collapsed beside the kid and stared blankly at his bloodstained hands. He felt lost without Peter’s perpetual optimism and constant chatter to ground him. Part of him was tempted to try to rouse the teenager, but the other half of him knew that the kid was probably better off unconscious until his healing factor had a little more time to work. Still, the billionaire felt an unrelenting urge to see his kid’s open eyes, awake and lucid and alive, sooner rather than later.

He tried to ignore the way his hands trembled as he ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. He ruminated on whether or not to rouse the teenager as his fingernails brushed against the kid’s scalp.

It only took about an hour for the kid to make the decision for him.

Peter’s forehead creased in discomfort before his eyelids even flickered. A little whine tore out of his scratchy throat, and Tony scrambled to position himself right in front of Peter as his eyes finally slid open.

“Hey, Peter.” The kid stared straight through him, blinking lethargically. “You know where you are, kiddo?”

Another blink. His overblown pupils flexed slowly as the kid struggled to focus.

“C’mon, Peter. You can do it.”

“D-d-don’,” Tony caught Peter’s head as it lolled sideways, “w-wan’... T’ny.”

“You’ve got him, buddy. I’m right here.”

The kid kept rambling like Tony hadn’t said a thing. “‘S no’ good. Wan’ T’ny. Wan’ dad.”

Dad. That damn moniker never failed to suckerpunch the billionaire straight in the gut.  “Like I said, kid. Right in front of you.”

Peter mumbled something unintelligible before his eyes rolled back. The billionaire pinched him, hard, and the teenager blinked awake sluggishly.

“Yeah, no. We aren’t doing the passing out thing until you say something that is at least a quarter of the way to coherent. You got that? We can start with, you know, recognizing who I am. That’d be brilliant.”

Tony stared into the kid’s eyes, searching desperately for some flicker of Peter. His Peter. The Peter that was going to dwarf even Tony’s formidable genius someday. But all he saw was a haze of fogginess. No matter how hard hard the looked, the teenager’s gaze was barren.

But there must be something of Peter breaking through, because he felt a tug as he moved to settle back beside the kid.

Peter’s fingers were curled around his sleeve.

Tony whipped his head back up to stare at the teenager’s face. “Kid?”

A spark. For the first time since opening his eyes, the kid seemed to focus. “T’ny?”

He hoped his grin looked like a smile and not a grimace. “Thank god, Peter. That you?”

“Where ‘m I?”

It’s just blood loss. Or the drugs. Or shock. Everything is fine. He’s fine. “The Raft. Don’t you remember?”

“Hurts.”

“I know, buddy.” Before Tony could stop him, the kid clutched the front of the billionaire’s shirt and used the grip to tug himself into his father’s chest. Peter’s burning forehead dropped against his neck. “Whoa there, kiddo.”

“Wanted you.”

Tony decided that there was nothing like having a kid to turn you into a wreck of sappy emotions. He cupped the nape of Peter’s neck soothingly even as he felt the beginnings of a panic attack claw at his lungs. “I know, kiddo. But I’m here now. I’m here.”

“‘M safe?”

No. You’re the farthest from safe that you can get, and it’s all because of me. “Yeah, Peter. You’re safe.”

Tony didn't move. Not even after he felt Peter’s muscles soften in sleep. Not even after his back started cramping from being twisted in a stooped position for so long. Not even after his own body threatened to give into the exhaustion tugging at eyelids.

Once, Peter’s gentle breaths might have soothed the panic in his veins. Now, however, each puff against his throat felt like a countdown.

And they were running out of time.

--

“Mister President, with all due respect, I have reason to believe that one of the most financially influential men in the world and his son have been taken hostage by a man operating directly under your supervision. This isn’t just something I can ignore.”

“And I understand that, Colonel. I assure you that the disappearance of Tony Stark and his adopted child are being taken very seriously here on Capitol Hill. I’ve put resources aside to search for them both and have men working on contacting Ross. Unfortunately, this is an election year. Many of us here in Washington are having to divert quite a lot of our time and funding into running our re-election campaigns. Until we can verify beyond a reasonable doubt that Secretary Ross was indeed behind their disappearance, there is a limit on what can be done.”

“Sir, I’ve provided you with the audio from Tony’s call with Secretary Ross where he openly and unapologetically threatens physical and emotional harm to a minor. Surely that’s enough to detain him.”

“Voicemails can be altered, Colonel. I have a team of experts working on verifying the recording as we speak. However, these things can take him.”

The only sign Steve could see of Rhodey’s displeasure was a slight twitch of his jaw. “Tony and Peter have been missing for almost a week, Sir. Time is something we’re running dangerously short on.”

“As you seem to remind me everyday, Colonel.” The President glanced briefly at someone offscreen before turning back to face Rhodey. “I have to go, Rhodes. I’ll continue to divert resources towards your request. I’ll let you know as soon as I have any substantial information. Until then, do not engage. Are we understood, Colonel?”

Rhodey’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

The livestream ended, and Rhodey slammed his fist into the conference table with a snarl. For a minute, the only sound in the room was the Colonel’s harsh breathing.

“They’ve been gone for too long, Steve. Who knows what Ross could have done to them by now?”
“I know.”

“And I can’t do anything until the government gets off its ass and gives me the goddamn clearance.”

“I know.”

“How are you being so fucking calm about this, Steve?!” Rhodey swung to face the super soldier with fire in his eyes. “Do you even give a shit?”

“Of course I do.” Steve forced himself to stay calm. “But we aren’t going to help Tony and Peter by losing our cool. We have to wait, so we wait.”

The Colonel sank into an open chair with a sigh of defeat. “I know. Damn it, I know.”

Steve leaned against the doorframe and watched Rhodey collapse in on himself. The Colonel cradled his head in his hands as if holding it up had become an impossible task. Not for the first time since Steve had returned, he was hit with the realization of how close Rhodey had grown not just to Tony, but to Peter as well.

“We’re going to get them out, James. I swear that to you.”

The man gave a bitter laugh. “Peter’s just a little kid. He’s fifteen, Steve. He still plays with Legos, for god’s sake. And he’s a good kid. Better than any of us ever were, for sure. Doesn’t have a cruel bone in his body. He isn’t meant for this kind of shit. And Tony… Tony’s already been through this. I still remember him after Afghanistan. Did you know that I was the one that found him? He was nearly out of his mind delirious, stumbling through the sand with his coat draped over his head. Every time he’d fall asleep on the plane flight back, he’d wake up screaming.”

“Rhodey-”

“He doesn’t like being touched. Never has, but it got worse after the Ten Rings. I’ve been his best friend for over half our lives and I can count the number of times I’ve hugged him on one hand. One of those times was then. After Afghanistan, I mean, when I found him in the desert. I hugged him. Tried to hug him later, too. Once we got back home. He nearly toppled over trying to get away. Peter’s always touching him, though. And Tony doesn’t mind. Just lets it happen. At first I thought he was humoring the kid, and then… he likes it, Steve. The kid reminds him that he’s human. Sometimes, I can’t tell who’s comforting who. Is Tony taking care of Peter, or is Peter taking care of Tony, y’know?”

“Rhodey-”

“Tony and I used to talk about having kids, sometimes. He’d always say he’d make a shit dad because of Howard, but I knew he was wrong. Even back in his playboy days, he’d always change when a kid asked for a picture. He’d... soften. Had a way of making them laugh, too. I always hoped he and Pepper might work it out and have a litter or two, but I’d given up on that by the time Peter stumbled in. He loves that kid, Steve. Loves him in a way I’ve never seen him love anything else before. If they kill Peter… Tony isn’t going to come back from that.”

“Rhodey.”

The Colonel glanced up suddenly, as if he’d just noticed Steve’s presence. “I’m sorry, Steve. I just-” Rhodey caught the soldier’s eye and Steve was caught off guard but the raw emotion in his gaze. “He’s my best friend.”

Steve just stared at him.

He was mine once, too.

--

In between the pain, Peter dreams.

May is still alive. They’re dancing in the kitchen. Footloose is playing on the TV, and she’s trying to teach him how to dip her. He stumbles awkwardly into the counter and she laughs before brushing her hand across his cheek.

They’re eating pasta at their favorite Italian restaurant. May is telling him about a couple who came into the hospital during her shift the day before. Her makeup is messy but she’s smiling at him like he’s her whole world and everything is insignificant compared to that.

They’re sitting on their old, beat up couch. Peter is crying because Ben is never coming home and there’s a shirt in the trashcan that’s drenched in blood. May doesn’t let him see her breaking. She just rubs his back and tells him that everything is going to be okay.

And then the dream fades, and the hands brushing the curls out of his face aren’t soft and fragile. They’re calloused and tough. Engineer’s hands.

Tony’s hands.

Peter opens his eyes, and the man’s face swims above him. He groans.

“Easy, Peter.” The teenager didn’t even realize he was trying to sit up until Tony braced a hand against his chest. “You’re alright. Stay down for a sec.”

“T’ny?”

“Yep. That’s me. You actually with me, this time?”

“I think so?”

His father looked relieved. “That’s nice. I’ve been bored. It’s too damn quiet in here without your babbling.”

Peter shifted, and gasped as pain speared through his entire body. “Oh, fuck.”

“You know what? I’ll let that one go.” Tony’s fingers brush over his face. “How bad?”

“‘S fine.” Peter squeezes his eyes shut, as if blocking out the glaring fluorescent lights might help him block out the pain. “Y’know, I wish they’d drug me now.”

Tony gave a pained laugh. “You are drugged, kid. You ought to see your pupils. I could probably fit most of the developed world in there.”

“Better drugs, then.”

His dad’s hand stalls over his cheekbone, fingertips resting lightly on his face. “When I get you home, you can have all the drugs you want. How’s that sound?”

Peter squinted open a single eye. Despite the pain, a small smirk tugged at his mouth. “All the drugs?”

“I take it back. You can have all the drugs you want that I, Rhodey, or a certified physician have authorized.”

The teenager smiled as his eyes slid shut again. “I’ll take it.” Peter sat quietly for a moment, content to bask in the gentle comfort Tony provided, before sleepily murmuring his next words. “I miss May.”

He heard his mentor’s breath catch.

“Dreamed of her. And you. Both of you.” For a moment, Peter’s mind is so full of needles and scalpels and the echoes of his own screams that he loses himself. “Wished it was real.”

“I know, kid.”

“I-I don-”

“Shh.” Peter’s eyes snapped open as Tony’s hand slid over his mouth. “They’re coming.”

No. No. No. No. No.

Peter’s hands clenched desperately around Tony’s wrist and he tears the man’s hand away from his lips. “D-dad… I-I can’t-I don’t-please d-don’t let them-”

The teenager only gets a brief glimpse of his father’s anguished eyes before hands are tearing them apart.

He wonders if you can dream when you’re dead.

--

The moment Tony and Peter were both restrained, Ross met Tony’s eyes.

“Where is Doctor Banner?”

“I don’t fucking know-”

“Where is Thor?”

“I already told you, I don’t have any fucking-”

“What do you know about the being known as Thanos?”

“I’ve given you everything I have on him, you piece of shi-”

“Interesting. I thought our conversation earlier might have been enough incentive.” Ross strolled over to Peter with his arms crossed primly behind his back. “Well done, Stark.” The man said, raking his gaze over the teenager curiously. “His injuries are already improving. Your healing factor is quite impressive, Peter.”

Without warning, Peter spat in his face.

Time stopped. Ross slowly, ever so slowly, reached up and wiped the saliva from his cheek with a frighteningly steady hand. Then, he calmly extended his hand to one of the guards, palm up. The moment the soldier placed the cattle prod against his waiting fingers, his pressed the prongs into the kid’s bare stomach but didn’t activate it.

“You know, Peter,” the man traced a finger down the bare skin of the teenager’s side, “that wasn’t very nice. Why don’t you say you’re sorry?”

“Fuck off.”

Ross pressed his thumb on the trigger, and Peter seized in his guards’ grips. By the time he pulled the cattle prod away, the kid’s lips had turned blue from lack of oxygen. Ross finished by driving a fist into the side of the teenager’s jaw, sending him staggering into a corner of the cell.

Peter slumped weakly against the wall, reaching out to Tony and curling his fingers in what all parents would recognize as the universal “hold me” gesture. On anyone else, the billionaire would have found the move ridiculous. Seeing Peter do it, however, triggered something visceral inside him.

My kid. I have to get to my kid.

A well-placed kick managed to dislocate one of his guard’s kneecaps. He basked in the satisfying crunch and choked off scream for just a moment before he was being thrown to the ground and the soldier’s howls were joined by a second cry of pain.

Peter.

Tony propped himself up on his hands and knees and spat blood. The scene in front of his was so bizarre that it took him a few breaths to process it.

Ross had one hand fisted in Peter’s hair. The other was clenched around the hilt of a knife, the blade of which…

The blade of which was lodged in his kid’s shoulder.

Peter looked even more shocked than Tony. He was staring down at the knife with a look a intrigued detachment on his face.

Suddenly, Tony was being hauled forcefully to his feet while Ross jerked Peter’s head to the side. The billionaire’s guards were gripping his biceps tight enough to cut off the blood supply, but all Tony could focus on were the jagged lines of red beginning to trickle down Peter’s arm.

“Stand down, Stark.” Ross twisted the knife, and Peter’s knees buckled as his eyes fluttered. Tony could just barely hear a whimper catch breathlessly in the kid’s throat. “I’d hate to hurt your child. Even more than you already have, of course.”

Even more than you already have. Your fault, Stark. Your fault. “Alright. I’m done. I’m done.”

Ross tore the knife from Peter’s shoulder with a sick pop before pinning the teenager against the wall. “Hello, Peter.” Ross ran his thumb along the kid’s upper lip. The gesture was so tender and so intimate that it made red hot fury burn in Tony’s stomach. How fucking dare he? “I thought you and I could have a little chat.”

Tears welled up in the kid’s eyes. Tony wanted to scream. If it wouldn’t have scared the shit out of Peter, he probably would have.

“Tell me, Peter,” Ross’ voice dripped with exaggerated kindness, “how does it feel to know that your father could have stopped all of this?” He dug a finger into the stab wound in Peter’s shoulder and the kid threw his head back in agony, biting off a scream. “He’s letting you suffer. What do you think, Peter? You think he gets off on it?”

Peter’s lip quivered, but his voice was surprisingly steady. “Tony Stark ‘s a hero. My hero.”

“How sweet.” Ross caught Tony’s eye. “You’re his hero, Stark. You’re his hero, and you failed him.”

Tony felt strangely cowed by the words, because he knew that they were true. “I know.”

“N-no.” Every head in the room swivelled back to the semi-conscious teen. “Didn’ fail me. ‘S my dad.”

Like that was it. Like the fact that Tony was Peter’s dad meant that he was incapable of failure.

But Tony knew better. Tony had had a father once, too, and Howard had failed him in every way imaginable. Just like he was failing Peter.

Stark men were not meant to have children. He could see that, now.

“He’s a cute kid, Stark.” Ross grabbed Peter’s elbow and shoved him into Tony’s chest. The guards didn’t release his arms, however, so the billionaire could only watch as his kid crumpled to the ground at his feet. “You don’t deserve him.”

“No.” Peter’s loving, pain-filled gaze rested heavy in his heart. “No, I don’t.”

Chapter Text

“No. No, I don’t.”

Tony felt a brief moment of satisfaction as Ross visibly flailed for his next words. The billionaire's blatant admission obviously caught the man off guard. When he recentered himself, his words were laced with their usual chilled venom. “You have single handedly signed your child’s death warrant, Mister Stark.”

Peter tangled his fingers into the fabric of Tony’s pant leg. Within seconds, he could feel the warm stickiness of the kid’s blood soaking through the thin wool. “If Thanos comes, you’re going to need every enhanced you can get, Ross. Killing him would be counterproductive.”

“I would take obedient, human soldiers over his kind any day.”

“T’ny.”

The billionaire’s gaze dropped briefly to the shaking kid at his feet. “Hush now, Peter. You’re alright.” He met Ross’ eyes again. “Peter is human.”

“Is he?” Ross gestured for a guard to open the door. “Then let’s see if he dies like one.”

Tony’s arms were released suddenly as the soldiers confining him moved to tail Ross out of the cell. The billionaire dropped straight to his knees and pushed Peter onto his back, placing a steadying hand against his sternum as the kid tried to shift away with a groan.

“You have twelve hours to say your goodbyes, Stark.” Ross let his eyes linger on Peter’s shaking form. He looked animalistic. Hungry. “If you answer one of my questions, I’ll make it quick.”

--

“Guess what I just found.”

Steve and Rhodey glanced up at Natasha in tandem, but it was Steve who spoke first. “What?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. and I were going through every attempt to access Stark’s personal database since he adopted Peter. When that turned up nothing, we started going through any attempts to breach SI’s employee servers in the same timeframe. Most of it is just noise, but something very interesting popped up.” Natasha pulled out a conference chair and straddled it with a coy smirk. “Two days after Tony adopted Peter, someone hacked into the SI server that houses all of the company’s lawyers’ accounts. Because F.R.I.D.A.Y. doesn’t monitor that system, it’s impossible to know exactly what they accessed. However, files pertaining to Peter’s adoption were among those that could have been compromised.”

Steve shook his head. “Why does this matter?”

“Shut up and I’ll tell you.” She shot him a wink that bled the bite out of her words. “I traced it through about a million different fake IP addresses. Whoever was behind the breach wasn’t very keen for their involvement to be discovered. Unluckily for them, I’m persistent. Anybody have a guess as to where the hack originated from?”

Realization dawned on Rhodey’s face. “Holy shit.”

“Drop the ‘holy’ and you’re close.” Nat grinned. “It loops right back to a private server belonging to Secretary Thaddeus Ross.”

“Is was Ross who leaked Peter’s identity?” If Steve looked closely, he could practically see the strategic wheels whirring in Rhodey’s head. “Why? What did that-” The Colonel stopped suddenly. “Of course.”

Sometimes, Steve really hated being the old man in the room. “Anybody wanna fill me in?”

“The press did most of the intel work for him. It only took them about a day to dig up all the public information about Peter. And as long as the press was keeping tabs on them, Ross knew where both Tony and Peter were located at all times. Hell, I saw a Tumblr page dedicated to tracking their location based on sightings, and it was scarily accurate. He could watch them from afar without bringing any attention to himself.”

“It gets better.” Natasha held out her StarkPad with an air of satisfaction. “It took a lot of work, and I nearly lost the trail a dozen times, but I managed to identify the specific device that was used to retrieve the information. As far as I can tell, it’s Ross’ personal phone. I accessed the GPS chip. Assuming that he has his phone with him, I know where he’s keeping Tony and Peter.”

Steve was out of his seat instantly while Rhodey snatched the StarkPad from her hands. “Where are they?”

It was Rhodey who answered, his voice grim. “The Raft.”

--

Ross was gone, the screen was counting down the last twelve hours of his kid’s life, and Peter was still bleeding out all over the cell’s floor.

Breathe.

“Hey, buddy.” The kid looked terrified. No. That wouldn’t do. Peter’s hours were numbered, and Tony didn’t want him to spend any of them afraid. He slid a hand under the back of the kid’s neck and ran a comforting thumb along the nape. “Take some nice, deep breaths for me. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

Once the kid’s eyes lost the edge of fear, the billionaire slipped into assessment mode.

“Listen. This might hurt, but I need you to wiggle your fingers on your right hand for me, okay?”

Even as he checked to see if the knife had done permanent damage to the kid’s nerves, a traitorous voice reminded him that it didn’t matter. What was the worth of a working arm if the kid attached to it didn’t live to make use of the damn thing?

The fingers moved, and Tony tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped in response.

“Good. That’s really good, kid.” Every time Peter choked on a breath of air, Tony felt his own lungs clench in sympathy. “Alright. I’m gonna grab the medkit, fix up your shoulder, and then we’ll move to the cot. Just hang in there.”

The wound was gruesome, but non-life-threatening. Tony disinfected it as quickly as he could, forcing his hands to be steady despite his kid’s grunts of agony, and bound it tightly.

“There you go. All done.”

Peter blinked up at him slowly. His hair was soaked with sweat and his face looked ashen. For a moment, Tony flailed. Shit. Had he really lost that much blood?

“Peter?”

“Wh-where ‘m I?”

The world tilted briefly. Tony hauled himself out of a panic attack through sheer force of will. “The Raft. What’s wrong with you, kiddo? They drug you again?”

“Dru’s?”

“Peter? Look at me.” The teenager’s eyes just rolled lifelessly in his head. “Buddy?” Tony ran a desperate hand over the kid’s forehead. His skin felt like ice. Tony ran the hand down his cheek until he found the pulse point on the kid’s neck and felt a weak, thready beat gallop against his fingertips.

Shock.

Right. Shit. What do you do about shock, again?

Thankfully, his first aid training broke through the panic. When the words filtered through, they sounded like Rhodey.

Keep them still. Elevate their legs. Don’t let them choke. Keep them warm. Stay calm.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

Breathe.

“Okay, buddy. C’mon. We’re going on a little trip.”

The kid whimpered a little as Tony carried him to the cot, but the billionaire barely had enough time to even process the sound before he was rushing to raise the kid’s legs on hasty pile of pillows. He grabbed their two scratchy blankets and wrapped the teenager up tightly before lunging away from the cot and pacing tensely around the tiny cell.

Now that Peter was settled, Tony had nothing to distract him from the whirlwind of panic and dread tearing through his chest. Through the maelstrom, however, emerged a single, coherent thought.

I can’t let him die.

In a flurry of action, Tony checked every inch of the room for something, anything, that could aid an escape. Neither of cots could be broken down and modeled into weapons, and the contents of the medkit had been chosen carefully to be as harmless as possible. The only piece of technology in the entire cell was the countdown display above the door. He bloodied his hands working to pry the screen away from the casing but no matter how many angles he tried, he couldn’t dislodge it.

He realized on hour five, with a strange rush of cold apathy, that Peter was going to die in less than seven hours and there was nothing Tony could do to stop it.

Ross would kill him. Tony could scream and rage and fight but, at the end of it all, Ross was going to snuff out Peter’s life as if he didn’t matter at all.

It baffled Tony that someone could just... extinguish the kid. In fact, the longer the grappled with the concept, the harder it was to comprehend. Peter was a focal point for chaotic energy. There never seemed to be a moment where he wasn’t in motion. It was as if his body was constantly scrambling to keep up with his rapid intellect, racing at a million miles a minute and yet always a few steps behind.

For a morbid moment, Tony wondered what the kid’s corpse would look like. Cold, quiet, and still.

Empty in a way Peter was never meant to be.

This was it. These were the last hours Tony would ever spend with the kid. With his kid.

What the hell was he supposed to do with them?

As soon as the question crossed his mind, Tony felt a deep, visceral need to touch the teenager. To feel his warm skin and gentle heartbeat and to engrave the memory of him, alive and peaceful and wrapped in his arms, so that the image could haunt the billionaire for the rest of his life. He crawled into the cot beside Peter and tucked his body around the boy. He listened to every breath swooshing in and out of his lungs.

His last handful of breaths.

“I’m so sorry, Peter.” He whispered, running his fingers through the kid’s sweat-soaked hair. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He spent the next few hours checking Peter’s pulse, trying to memorize every inch of the the kid, and murmuring what he hoped were comforting words into the cell’s stale air.

He hadn’t meant to doze off. But Peter’s pulse had finally stabilized into something vaguely in the realm of normal and the sudden drop in adrenaline, combined with pre-existing sleep deprivation, meant that Tony didn’t even notice he’d fallen asleep until he woke up to the sound of his name.

“T’ny?”

The kid’s voice rasped, weak and wrecked from screaming. Tony blinked sleepily and curled his hand, which was still buried in the teenager’s hair, until his fingertips brushed against his scalp.

“Yes, Peter?”

“Do y’ think… do you think we still dream, wh’n we die?”

The breath halted in the billionaire’s lungs. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough. “I don’t know, buddy. Maybe.”

Peter shifted until his cheek was pressed against his father’s chest and he could gaze up at the man blearily. “Wha’ would you dream of?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mmm. Dream of home. Of May. You.”

Tony swallowed tightly, dropping his face into Peter’s hair. “Oh, Peter.”

“Dream of th’ stars, too.” The kid nuzzled his face closer into Tony’s shirt. “Which ones do you think are out t’night?”

“Probably Orion.”

“‘S a good one.”

“Yeah, buddy. It is.”

Tony watched as the kid’s blinks slowed and his breathing settled. Tony murmured Peter’s name once he was almost certain the kid was asleep, feeling a strange swell of guilty relief when the teenager stayed motionless. The coward inside him wanted Peter to stay out until the end. He didn’t know if he could handle looking into those youthful eyes again.

So young. So full of time. Except, he hasn’t got any.

He took a shuddering breath, steeling himself, before turning his face away from the kid’s mop of curls and staring at the ceiling.

Please, he thought, if you’re there, Mom, if there’s some light at the end of this shitty tunnel... look after him for me. Keep him safe. He deserves you more than I ever did.

Tony Stark didn’t believe in heaven or hell or God, but if there was anyone who deserved a gentle epilogue, it was Peter.

Please.

--

“The Raft.”

Of course, Steve thought, cursing under his breath, how could I be so stupid?

Natasha smiled. There was murder in her eyes. “Anybody up for a little ocean vacation?”

Rhodey pushed himself out of his seat, steadying himself on the conference table as he readjusted to the leg braces taking on his weight. “Hell yeah.”

“Rhodey,” Steve put a tentative hand on the Colonel’s shoulder, “it looks like we’re gonna be out of the law on this one. It doesn’t change much for the rest of us, but it could get you and Vision into a lot of trouble. You might want to sit this one out.”

“No. I’m coming.” Rhodey turned to Natasha. “Can you give me all the data you collected linking Ross to to the leak of Peter’s identity? If I send it over to Washington, it might save our asses when we get back.”

“How long will it take for Congress to review the evidence?”

“Who gives a shit?” The Colonel strolled towards the door. “Assemble everyone who’s coming. I’ll get the Quinjet prepped.”

“You don’t want to wait for clearance?”

Steve was stoic. As a soldier, he’d learned that having complete control of your expressions and body language was a necessity to survival. Every movement was a careful, precise calculation.

But one look at the hardened steel in Rhodey’s eyes had the man involuntarily flinching back.

“Fuck the clearance, Steve. Let’s go get my family.”

--

The countdown had reached 53 minutes when the lights cut out.

Peter whimpered, and Tony shushed him with a gentle hand as he quickly untangled himself from the kid. The billionaire moved quietly around the room, glancing nervously into the dark abyss behind the glass viewing window before padding silently to the door.

“Tony? Can you hear me?”

The genius could have toppled over with relief as the voice crackled over the PA system. “Rhodey?!”

“Tony! Thank god! Man, it’s good to hear your voice. Listen, we’re on our way. F.R.I.D.A.Y. hacked into the Raft’s operating system and shut down the security in your wing, but there’s no telling how long it’ll take for one of the techs to get everything running again. We need you and Peter to get to the roof, and quickly.”

He’s going to live. I can save him. Tony glanced back at the delirious kid behind him and felt his flame of hope flicker. “Peter can’t fight, Rhodey.”

The Colonel’s next words were tense. “Then you’ll have to.”

The billionaire took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll try to steal a phone off of a guard. When I get one, I’ll call you on the encrypted channel.”

“Good luck, Tony.”

The system cut off with a thrum, and Tony tested the door. Sure enough, it swung right open.

He jogged over to Peter and shook his good shoulder. The teenager blinked up at him owlishly. “Wha’?”

“How do you feel about getting out of here?”

“‘S a good idea.”

Tony laughed. It sounded hysterical and disturbingly loud in the impersonal cell. He’s going to live. He’s going to live. He’s going to live. “Glad we’re on the same page. Think you can walk?”

Peter managed pretty well on his feet, all things considered, although he did need Tony’s help for balance. The genius hauled the kid into the corridor Ross always come from and smiled when he saw a touchscreen laid into the wall.

“Bingo.” He whispered, glancing around for a safe place to hide Peter. The moment he accessed the panel, it was possible that Ross and his guards would track the access point and converge on their location. He couldn’t risk the kid getting caught in the crossfire. He ended up settling Peter in the shadowy threshold of an unoccupied cell, feeling his heart constrict at the concept of letting go of his kid and walking away.

A rapid assessment of their block showed that, in fact, every cell was empty. He and Peter were the only prisoners in the entire wing. It was a little disconcerting. Then again, Tony couldn’t imagine that there many enhanced individuals who found their way into the Raft lasted long with Ross in charge.

“Peter? Focus up, buddy.” The kid met his gaze instantly, much to Tony’s relief. “Alright. I’m going to try to access their systems, okay? If I can place a bug from the inside, it’ll buy us more time to escape. You just stay here and stay very quiet, alright? I need you to let me know that you understand what I’m saying.”

“Stay here. Stay quiet.”

Tony gave him a fond smile as he tapped his fingers against the kid’s cheek. “I’m going to get you home.”

“Know you will.”

Accessing the system’s mainframe was ridiculously easy. Apparently, no one had thought that a prisoner would try to sabotage the security from the inside.

They didn’t plan for Tony Stark. Then again, no one ever did.

He’d just placed a glitch in the prison’s maintenance software when he heard the scuffle of a shoe on the floor.

Tony Stark may be known for his Iron Man suit, but he was lethal with and without the armor. Hell, he’d trained with professional assassins and super soldiers for years. Taking down the four guards that had come to check on the cells was only slightly more taxing than breaking through the Raft’s firewall.

And, as a bonus, now he had a phone. And a gun.

He grabbed the only conscious soldier and slammed him into the wall, jabbing the muzzle of the handgun into his neck brutally enough to make him gag. “Where’s Ross?”

“I-I can’t-”

Tony pressed his face directly next to the guard’s ear and hissed his next words between clenched teeth. “Ross took my kid. He took him and he hurt him. I’ll do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen again. If I have to kill you to do that? Call it collateral.” He could hear the man swallow in fear. Good. “Now… where is Ross?”

“H-his s-safe room. Main terminal, b-by the h-helicopter pad and es-escape hatch.”

Hiding, like the coward he is. “Thank you.”

Tony drove the butt of the gun into the soldier’s head. He went down without a sound.

Peter’s eyes were closed when Tony rushed back to his side.

“Hey, kiddo. Wakey wakey.”

The teenager’s eyes rolled for a second before landing on the billionaire. “Dad?”

“Yep. Time to go.” The kid’s knees buckled when Tony hauled him upright, and the older man stumbled under the sudden dead weight. “Come on, Peter. Work with me here. Use your legs.”

He half carried Peter through the corridors, ducking into alcoves and empty cells whenever a pack of soldiers would rush past. Every time the kid’s head lolled against his chest, Tony would jolt him awake.

He used the stolen smartphone to pull up a map of the prison and override the locking mechanisms securing Ross’ saferoom. The moment they were inside, he hit the switch to relock the door and, with a pang of regret, shoved Peter against the cool metal so he could draw the gun on the figure inside.

Ross smiled, sitting calmly on a metal desk. “Stark.” He greeted. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Tony just tightened his jaw and clicked off the pistol’s safety.

The General smirked, glancing behind Tony at the Peter, who was slumped dazedly against the wall. “He doesn’t look so good, does he?”

The billionaire didn’t need to glance back at the teenager to see his clammy skin and heaving chest. “Peter?” Tony could barely see the kid on the outskirts of his vision. “Close your eyes. Cover your ears.”

“Why?”

Because there are images from this prison you’ll never forget. I don’t want the memory of your dad killing a man in cold blood to be one of them.

“Just do it, buddy.”

The moment he saw the kid do as he asked, Tony grabbed Ross by the front of his shirt and threw him to the ground, training the gun right between his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You’re not going to kill me.”

“I think you’re highly overestimating my morality.”

“You need me, Stark. I know things about Thanos. About what’s coming. If you kill me, thousands will die.”

Tony’s laugh was acidic. It seemed to bubble in the air. “Nice try.” He slammed his foot into Ross’ face and whispered to him quietly enough that he hoped Peter’s enhanced senses wouldn’t pick it up through the hands clutched over his ears. “Look at that kid. Look at him.” Tony pressed down until Ross had no choice but to stare at Peter. “Even after everything you’ve done, he would let you live. He’s special like that. But, thanks to you, he’s too out of it to argue with me.”

Tony tried to capture the exact moment Ross realized Tony was actually going to kill him in his mind forever. The flash of unadulterated, pure terror that sparked in his cold eyes.

(“I want him to die screaming.”)

It was the most satisfying bullet Tony had ever fired.

--

Tony hauled Peter onto the roof and activated the bug he’d planted in the maintenance protocols as soon as they were clear. It would force the systems into an emergency reboot. Every exit and entrance would be on lockdown until the system finished a series of routine diagnostics. It would only buy them about five minutes, but those five minutes might be the difference between life or death.

He fumbled with the stolen phone, tapping into the secure line as quickly as he could. “Rhodey? Steve?”

There was muffled movement on the other end of the receiver, and then the super soldier’s voice rushed in with a wave of static. “I’m here.”

“How close are you?”

“We’re still over ten minutes out, Tony. You have to hide.”

“No can do. We’re on the roof and there are a shit ton of soldiers on our tails. I’ve rebooted the system to buy us some time, but everything’ll be back online by the time you get here. We’re stuck between a rock and, well, an ocean.”

“Shit-”

“Language.”

“Now’s not the time, Tony.”

“Steve,” Tony glanced into Peter’s eyes, alight with fear but so very blessedly alive, “you know what I have to do.”

“Tony, no.”

“Infrared in the jet should tell you where we are. Rhodey can grab us.”

“Tony-”

“See ya in a bit, Capsicle. Don’t be late, will you?”

Tony clicked off the cell phone and threw it to the side, sliding out from under Peter’s arm and steadying the kid with one hand on his good shoulder and the other on his waist. The billionaire took a deep breath as he met his kid’s gaze, trying to pour as much comfort and security into the stare as possible.

He tore off his tie and started binding his right hand to Peter’s left. The kid swayed slightly without Tony’s support but managed, thankfully, to stay on his feet.

As soon as he finished the knot, he brought his free hand up to Peter’s cheek. “I love you, buddy.”

Peter blinked, feverish mind working through the sudden declaration far too slowly. “Love you, too.”

“Can you swim, Peter?”

“Huh? Y-yeah.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

He grabbed a fistful of Peter’s shirt, tugging the kid closer to the ledge. “Yeah? Who taught you?”

“Uncle Ben.”

Distract him. Distract him. Distract him.

“Tell me about him.”

“H-he u-used to take me out f-for ice cr-cream on the week’nds.”

They were almost close enough. He was running out of time, be he didn’t dare move faster. The last thing he needed was Peter realizing what was about to happen and panicking. “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“C-chocolate.”

His foot was only inches from the edge.

Now or never, Stark.

“Look up, buddy.” The kid’s glassy eyes followed Tony’s upward. “You see the stars?”

“Y-yeah.” The kid let out a breath, and Tony could see his body relax as a dopey smile curled around his lips.

He moved his gaze from the tangle of little lights above them and drank in the kid’s soft face.

My kid.

“Take a deep breath in and hold it, Peter.”

The fact that the kid obeyed unquestioningly made a small part of the billionaire shatter.

Tony dropped a rushed kiss to the crown of Peter’s head, and then dragged him over the edge.

Chapter Text

The moment they hit the water, Tony found himself immensely grateful he’d thought to physically bind himself to Peter. The impact was so forceful that he wouldn’t have been able to keep the kid from getting torn away. As it was, Peter’s weight jerked painfully against his shoulder as the world around him went dark and silent and cold. The force of the fall had plunged them so far below the surface that the billionaire was struggling to identify which way he had to swim in order to find the oxygen both he and Peter were suddenly so desperately short of.

For a brief moment, he flailed in panic. Then, he saw a handful of stray air bubbles floating towards what had to be the surface.

Tony lunged for Peter, wrapping a firm arm around his chest, and kicked. By the time his head broke over the waves, his lungs were screaming. He gasped in a series of painful breaths, so focused on the sweet taste of sea-salted air in his mouth that he momentarily forgot about the teenager pressed against his chest.

“P-Peter?” Tony shifted in the water so that the kid’s head was propped back against his shoulder.

“H-hey.”

Relief hit the billionaire so suddenly that he forgot to swim, and a harsh tide drove the pair back underneath the churning water. He clawed back to the surface desperately, wincing as Peter coughed and sputtered when their heads breached the tearing waves.

“Li-listen, Peter,” he couldn’t keep his lungs from hauling in involuntary gasps of air, “we g-gotta keep sw-swimming, okay?”

“D-distract’d me.”

Tony would have laughed if he wasn’t so busy panting. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout th-that.”

“U-unfair.”

Another wave crashed over their heads. Saltwater stings his eyes. Peter chokes.

The water is so cold that Tony wonders if it can crawl inside him. It feels like it has. His blood is freezing in his veins.

He’s also pretty sure that he’s the only thing holding Peter above the frothing sea. The kid was already fading before their unexpected plunge. Now, his free hand was fisted weakly around the front of his father’s shirt and Tony could tell he wasn’t even trying to swim. The only movement that Peter seemed capable of was his persistent shivering.

Shivering is good, he told himself, shivering means hypothermia hasn’t gotten him yet.

It would, though. It would get to both of them, and soon. You could survive, what, fifteen minutes max in frigid water before hypothermia made it impossible to swim?

Hopefully, Tony could hang on just long enough for Rhodey to find them.

He had to. Peter wouldn’t last without him. He had to keep swimming because if he didn’t, Peter died.

Peter couldn’t die. Not now. Not when they were so close.

It was getting easier to breathe. Tony didn’t know why, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it was because his body had finally adjusted to the temperature. Either way, he used the extra breaths to babble at Peter.

“Rhodey’s coming, buddy. We’ll have you warm and dry and stitched up before you know it. We can order pizza from that place you love and watch Star Wars. I’ll even let you choose which one.”

“Sh-should almos’ d-die m’re of’en.”

“Yeah. No. This is th-the last time we’re doing this ever.” Tony tightened his grip around the kid’s chest. Please keep shivering, buddy. “Ou-our lives are g-gonna be s-so b-boring after this.”

“S-sounds good.”

For the next few minutes, Tony’s life converged on a single mantra.

Don’t stop swimming, keep Peter’s head above the water, don’t stop swimming, keep Peter’s head above the water, don’t stop swimming, keeping Peter’s-

A wave took them under again. When Tony dragged them back up, Peter didn’t cough. In fact, the only movement from the kid was his hand slipping from Tony’s shirt and into the frothing waves as his grip went limp.

“Pe-Peter?!” He treaded water and shook Peter roughly. His fingers felt clumsy as he scrambled to grab the teenager’s shirt. “C’mon, b-buddy. D-don’t die. Not now.”

The kid came to with a bubbly groan, blurry eyes fixing on Tony’s face. “H-hi.”

The relief almost made him feel warm. “Hi t-to y-you too, kid.”

He was too tired to swim. It was all he could do hold both his and Peter’s weight above the surface. He pulled Peter’s chest against his, making sure that the kid’s chin was resting on his shoulder and that his nose was well above the salty waves.

You can do this. Peter needs you to handle this.

It was just so cold. Peter wasn’t shivering anymore. When he really thought about it, Tony wasn’t, either.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

The churning of the waves sent sprays of saltwater up his nose on nearly every breath. His throat ached and burned. Every once in a while, Peter would gag.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

Peter was going to die out here. Tony thought he was saving him but in the end he was just delaying the inevitable. The curtains were always going to close like this.

I’ve got him. I’ve always got him.

Was it better to drown than to be executed? Tony doesn’t know. It’s freezing and dark out here but at least Peter can go in his arms. Cold and sick but not alone and not screaming.

I never told my dad I loved him. I never heard him say it back.

He’d told Peter. He was not his father. He’d told Peter that he loved him. He’d heard him say it back.

Please.

He was so tired. Peter wasn’t responding anymore. For some reason, Tony couldn’t bring himself to care.

PeterPeterPeterPeterPeter.

Tony heard the whine of repulsors as a wave drove them under.

He didn’t have the strength to chase the surface. He just clutched Peter tightly and thought of home.

I’m sorry.

--

Tony woke up to the feeling of metal arms around his ribs and the whine of the Quinjet’s engines.

For a moment, he couldn’t believe it was true.

“Tony?!” Rhodey’s voice was frantic. “Are you with me, man?”

He opened his mouth to respond, and hacked up a lungful of water instead.

“Alright. Get it out, Tones.” There was a clatter as Rhodey’s metal boots landed on the Quinjet’s ramp. “Steve! Help me with Peter.”

Peter.

“P-Pe-” Another rush of water sloshed up his throat. “Pet’r.”

Rhodey sat Tony on a mattress. He must be in the jet’s MedBay. “He’s here, Tones. He’s safe. Open your eyes and you can see him.”

Safe.

Tony focused on peeling his eyelids apart and felt the tension rush out of his body as his gaze settled on Peter. Steve was cutting the kid’s soaked clothes off. Despite the super soldier’s rushed movements and manhandling, the teenager didn’t even twitch.

“Wha’s wrong wi’ him?”

“He’s just really cold. And so are you, for that matter, so quit squirming and let me warm you up.”

He hadn’t even realized Rhodey had removed his own soaked clothes until the Colonel was wrapping a heated blanket around his bare shoulders and easing him onto his side, careful to ensure that the billionaire could still see Peter from the position. An oxygen mask was shoved over his face, and Tony couldn’t stop the groan of pleasure as blessedly warm air started to flow through it. He let his eyelids droop, relaxing, until he noticed Rhodey putting an IV in his arm and attaching a bag of fluids to it.

“Wha’ is that?” Tony tried to lurch upright, but nearly slid off the cot. His best friend shoved him back down unceremoniously. “What’re you givin’ me?”

“Calm down, Tones. It’s just warm saline. Peter’s about to get some too. It’ll help warm you both up.”

“Pet’r... hates needles.”

Rhodey gave the billionaire’s shoulder a pat. “I know, Tony. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him. Why don’t you get some rest?”

“Pet’r.”

“Is also getting some rest.”

“Need him.”

“You have him. He’s right there, man.”

If it had been up to Tony, he would have kept watching Peter until the end of time. As it was, his body had very different ideas. His eyelids closed of their own accord, and he was swallowed by darkness before he could even process what was happening.

Even then, he never stopped thinking about Peter.

--

The next thing Tony knew, he was opening his eyes to the glare of fluorescent lights and four white walls.

The Raft.

Shit. No. They’d gotten out, hadn’t they?

Rhodey appeared. Why was Rhodey on the Raft? “Tony, I need you to calm down. If you don’t, we’ll have to sedate you, and you won’t be able to see Peter.”

Peter. He had to see Peter.

“Peter?” Tony clutched desperately at Rhodey’s forearms. “Not the Raft?”

“No, Tony. You’re not on the Raft. You escaped. You’re in the MedBay at the Compound.”

You escaped. You escaped. You escaped.

“Alive?”

Rhodey’s brow furrowed in confusion and concern. “Yeah, Tony. You’re alive. You feeling okay?”

“No. Not me. Peter.”

He has to be okay. He has to be okay. Hehastobeokay.

Understanding softened the Colonel’s face. “He’s alive. He’s safe. You both are. The hypothermia was a bitch for a second, but your temperature’s stabilized. You need a good meal, fluids, and some sleep, but otherwise you’re still in one piece. Remarkably.”

Tony tried to prop himself up, wincing when he bent his arm and felt the needle of the IV dig into his elbow. Rhodey hit a button and the hospital bed slid into an upright position. Tony glanced around, and locked his gaze onto the kid laid out on the bed few feet to his right.

The Colonel spoke quietly. “The doctors did surgery on his shoulder. They’re confident he’ll retain the entirety of his mobility. His fever spiked once we got the hypothermia under control, probably from infection, but the antibiotics seem to be working and it’s settling. He’s got pleuritis, so they had to remove some fluid from the lining of his lungs. I… I hate to ask this, Tones, but was he… did Peter inhale water at some point?”

Tony choked. “Yes.”

A deep sadness settled in Rhodey’s eyes, but Tony was too busy staring at Peter to notice. “That’s actually really good. The pleurisy should resolve on its own, then.” The Colonel leaned heavily against the bed’s railing. “There’s… a lot of small wounds. A good few of them should heal pretty quickly once we give his body some materials to work with. He’s malnourished, dehydrated, and there’s an insane amount of narcotics running through his system. All of those things are affecting his healing factor. It took four doctors nearly an hour to identify an anesthetic they could use when they stitched up his shoulder that wouldn’t interact with whatever it is Ross dosed him with.”

“How-” Tony coughed, and took a few grateful gulps from the water bottle Rhodey handed him. “How long was I out?”

“We’re going on about 24 hours.”

24 hours? “Has he woken up?”

“No. The drugs Ross gave him mixed with the pain meds have kept him out. Cho thinks he should start to wake up soon, though.”

Tony was moving to stand as soon as the words left Rhodey’s mouth. The Colonel groaned, grabbing the IV pole with one hand and his best friend’s elbow with the other. “I’m not even going to try to convince you to stay in bed.”

“Smart move.”

“But,” Rhodey said, settling Tony into a chair by Peter’s bedside, “you can stay here until he wakes up. Once he’s out again, your ass is back on that mattress if I have to drag you there in the suit. You hear me?”

For a moment, the billionaire held Rhodey’s eye contact. “I want our beds closer.”

“If I push them together, will you stay put?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take it.” The Colonel pulled up another chair and sat down heavily. “I’m glad you’re alright, Tony.”

The billionaire floundered for a moment. Even after everything, the concept of having an emotional moment with Rhodey made his skin itch. “Thanks.”

Thankfully, the Colonel understood. He just gave Tony a knowing smile and settled back to tap away at his phone. “Steve is here.”

“So I gathered.”

“He’s… cleaning up some loose ends with Nat, but he should be back soon. Do you want me to get rid of him?”

It was a good question. What did Tony want?

Before he’d adopted Peter, he would have run from the issue. He’d let Rhodey send Steve as far away as possible and he’d try to forget about the whole thing. But now…

He hadn’t forgiven Steve. Tony didn’t know if he could ever forgive him for some of what he did. But Tony had meant what he’d said on the phone: he understood what it was like to have someone you would protect to the exclusion of everything else now.

If Steve tried to hurt Peter, Tony would kill him.

I understand.

“No. No. He… he helped us. He didn’t have to, but he did.” Tony reached to brush his hand through Peter’s hair, reveling in the fact that the teenager’s face didn’t reveal even the tiniest hint of discomfort. For the first time in far too long, his kid looked peaceful. “He said he wanted to meet Peter, anyway.”

“And you’d let him?”

“He helped save his life.”

“That didn’t answer my question, Tony. Do you trust him?”

“No.” The billionaire looked over at his best friend. “Do you?”

Rhodey paused. “I trust that he has good intentions.”

“Now you’re the one evading questions.”

“I know.”

They sat quietly for a few moments.

“You killed him.”

Rhodey didn’t need to specify who “him” was. “I did.”

“Must have felt good.”

“Oh,” Tony smiled, and for a split second, the expression felt so reminiscent of Ross that he almost faltered, “it did.” It dawned on Tony rather suddenly then that he’d killed the Secretary of State in cold blood. The smile slid from his face. “That’s going to be messy.”

“Not if they can’t pin it on you.”

The billionaire dragged his gaze away from Peter and met Rhodey’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

The Colonel smiled. There was something devious in the expression. “It’s rather unfortunate, but the security footage from Ross’ saferoom was destroyed in an awful electrical fire. From what I’ve heard from Nat, Ross must have been killed in the flames. I’m afraid the integrity of his body is… questionable.”

“You sly son of a bitch.”

Rhodey was about to answer when a small whimper had Tony lunging forward in a flurry of parental panic.

“Peter?”

Brown eyes opened to slits. “Dad?”

Tony ignored the way his best friend startled at the title. “Right here, kiddie. You’re in the Compound.”

“Compound?”

“Yeah, buddy. We got you home.”

“No Raft?”

“No Raft.”

The look of pure bliss on the kid’s face made Tony’s heart melt. “Yay me.”

He’s so good. So, so good. You couldn’t take that from him, Ross. No one can. “Yeah, kid. Yay you.”

“Do y’ think we can order that pizza?”

He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. “Sure thing, kid. I promised, didn’t I?”

--

After a solid nap and a hefty meal, Helen Cho finally freed Tony from her care.

It wasn’t like he was going far. The only real difference that it made was that Tony’s hospital bed was replaced with a cot and he got to ditch the blasted IV. The billionaire got up from his mattress and crawled right up beside Peter. The kid had proceeded to snuggle into his chest, still fast asleep, and that had been that.

Steve found them in that exact position, almost twelve hours later.

“Hey.”

Tony looked the soldier up and down. “You grew a beard.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth turned up. “Do you not like it?”

“Not sure yet.” Tony readjusted his grip on Peter as Steve approached. “If you wake him up, I’ll kill you.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

The silence stretched out, taught and wavering. Neither man seemed eager to break it. Tony occupied himself with Peter’s hair, while Steve kneaded the upholstery on the recliner Rhodey had been occupying until just half an hour earlier.

“So this is Peter.”

The billionaire glanced up to see Steve contemplating his kid’s face with an unreadable expression on his own. “You saw him before, didn’t you?” He still had the hazy memories of Steve manhandling the teenager out of his sodden clothes.

“I didn’t have much time to really look at him. Had to fly the jet.”

“Oh.”

“He’s a handsome young man.”

The comment was so ridiculous that it took everything in Tony not to bark out an indignant laugh. “Thanks.”

Steve seemed oblivious to the engineer’s amusement. He didn’t move his gaze from Peter’s sleeping face. “He looks young.”

“He is young.”

So young. So, so young.

“Too young to have seen the things he has, I suppose.”

Tony swallowed. He didn’t need the reminder. “I know.”

Steve fidgeted nervously for a moment before sighing. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

“About what, exactly?”

“Everything. I should have told you the moment I found out how your parents died. I should have worked harder to compromise on the Accords. And even if we couldn’t agree, I shouldn’t have handled it the way I did. And I’m so, so sorry about Siberia.”

Tony choked on a breath of air. When he answered, his voice was rough. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only fuck up in the room, Rogers.”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“It’s true.”

“No, it really isn’t.” Steve gestured to Peter. “Look at him, Tony.”

“Exactly.” Tony hissed. “Look at him, Steve. He’s got a hole in his shoulder. It’s a goddamn miracle he’s not a cripple. It’s a goddamn miracle he’s even alive. And you know what? That’s all on me.”

“Tony, no. That isn’t on you. That’s on Ross. You kept him alive. He’s not sleeping soundly in this bed because of a miracle. He’s here because of you.”

The anger drained out of Tony as quickly as it had come. Instead, he felt a deep terror settle in his gut. “I can’t fail him, Steve. I just can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know you.”

He met the super soldier’s eyes. They shone with conviction.

A sleepy voice make Tony break the gaze. “So ‘s the divorce over now, or…?”

He startled, glancing down to see Peter giving him a lazy smile. “Didn’t your father ever teach you not to eavesdrop?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll have to get on that ASAP.” He set his palm on the kid’s forehead, feeling for fever in spite of the fact that the monitor directly to his left was doing the exact same thing. “How you feeling, buddy? You in any pain?”

“Not really.” Peter shifted, then winced. “Okay. Maybe a little. But I’m fine.”

The protest fell on deaf ears. Tony had already hit the call button. “Yep. Nope. I’ve had enough of you in pain for a lifetime. We aren't doing any more of that.”

Peter’s eyes drifted to Steve, who was standing awkwardly by his bedside. “Holy shit. Captain America is actually in my hospital room. I wasn’t dreaming that.”

Tony laughed. “Steve, meet Peter. Peter, meet Steve.”

“H-hi.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, son.” Steve moved to place a hand on the kid’s good shoulder, but paused before addressing Tony seriously. “Permission to touch?”

“Permission granted. Keep it PG, Cap.”

The joke made the soldier chuckle. His grip on Peter was light but firm. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better, kid.”

“Oh. Th-thank you, Sir. I, um, I’m sorry about-about stealing your shield that one time. And, uh, punching you. That wasn’t cool.”

A huge smile overcame Cap’s face. Tony suppressed a smirk of his own. Yep. No one can resist his kid.

“Don’t sweat it, Pete. I gave as good as a got, if I remember correctly.” His tone turned playful. “Let’s hold off on anything too dangerous for a while, okay? I think your dad has enough heart problems. We don’t want to tempt fate.”

Tony heard the teasing in Steve’s tone, but Peter obviously didn’t. His eyes blew wide and he looked up at his father with a trace of panic. “You have heart problems? A-are you-is there-”

The billionaire set a hand on the top of the teenager’s head, shushing him quietly. “No, buddy. Cap’s just messing around. I’m fine.”

Helen Cho took that moment to enter, rolling her eyes at Tony’s position. “Hello, Peter. I’m your doctor, Helen Cho. It’s nice to see you awake. Do you need anything?”

Tony spoke before Peter could. “He’s in pain.”

The doctor pursed her lips. “The narcotics must be working out of your system. We’ll up your analgesics to compensate. How bad is the pain?”

“Oh, uh, like a four.”

“That’s at least a six. Probably a seven.”

Helen shot Tony a glare. “I believe my patient is capable of speaking for himself, Mister Stark.”

“Well, your patient is also a dirty liar, so…”

Steve piped up from where he’d stepped out of Helen’s way. “I can’t imagine where he got that from.”

“Shut it, Rogers.”

Helen suppressed a smile at the banter as she tapped away at one of the monitors at Peter’s bedside. “I’ll increase your pain meds. Your healing factor has already taken care of your minor injuries, so I anticipate that you’ll be back on your feet in a day or two. The analgesics will help you sleep as well, which will accelerate the process.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Tony cut him off. “Helen’s right, Peter. The more rest you get, the quicker you’ll heal. I’ll stay right here. Happy’s organized an entire security detail, and you have the Avengers looking out for you. Your last line of defense is Iron Man. You’ll be just fine during your nap, kiddo.”

The kid reluctantly agreed, burrowing his face into his dad’s chest with a muffled, “Okay.”

Helen adjusted the dosages and left with a maternal smile. Tony massaged one hand through Peter’s curls and rubbed the teenager’s back with the other. A nurse must have washed his hair at some point, because the greasiness was gone and the strands were soft under his fingertips. Peter hummed in contentment as he drifted off, nestling his face more securely against Tony’s shirt.

The billionaire noticed Steve observing the scene with a small smile. Once he was certain his kid was comfortably asleep, he raised a judgmental eyebrow in the super soldier’s direction.

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re good with him.”

And, damn, all this emotional bullshit was throwing the billionaire for a serious loop. “What?”

“With Peter. It’s just nice to see you happy, Tony. You deserve it. You deserve him.”

Tony Stark was rarely speechless. But at that moment, all he could do was stare at his old friend.

“I’ll see you later, Tony.” Steve moved quietly to the door. “Tell Peter that it was nice to meet him.”

And then he was gone.

Chapter Text

Rhodey ended up pulling Tony out of Peter’s bed and practically forced him onto the cot the nurses had put against the wall. The billionaire had only agreed, and even then very reluctantly, to his demands after Rhodey had threatened to let Pepper haul him to sleep in his actual bed.

He couldn’t have that. He needed to stay with Peter. His room was on a different floor. It was too far. Too far.

Tony couldn’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours when a gentle shuffling roused him. He sat up in a panic, fingers fumbling to call the suit and a desperate call of Peter on his lips, when he recognized the figure standing at the edge of his cot.

“Peter?”

The kid was stretching out the hem of his oversized t-shirt with shaky hands. He looked tiny. Tony was overwhelmed rather suddenly by the realization of just how fragile Peter was. He wondered if this is how he would have felt if he and the kid had crossed paths about a decade and a half earlier. What would it have been like, to have had the chance to raise this kid? To see his first smile, his first steps, his first report card?

So many firsts that he didn’t get to see.

But then again, there were a million more that he would get to witness. His first kiss, his first heartbreak, his first day of college. If Tony was lucky, he’d see this kid fall in love and get married and make his very own gaggle of tiny geniuses.

Right now, however, that future seemed very far away. It was difficult to imagine Peter having children of his own when he looked so much like a child himself.

“Want to tell me why you’re not passed out in your bed right now?”

“Dad.”

“That’s me.” Tony raised his arms invitingly. “You gonna come here, or keep standing at the foot of my bed like a shadow?”

Peter crawled onto the billionaire’s mattress with a wince that Tony definitely didn’t miss. The kid shamelessly tucked himself into his dad’s chest as the older man wrapped his arms around him. As much as Tony was worried about Peter’s sudden decision to go for a little midnight wander, he couldn’t deny the way every inch of his body reveled in being back in physical contact with his child. He used one of his hands to gently turn the teenager’s arm over and inspect the spot where the kid had ripped his IV out. There was a bright fan of blood smeared across his elbow. Tony winced in sympathy.

“You’re gonna be a lot of pain pretty soon, buddy.” He sighed, brushing a hand over Peter’s hair. “There’s a reason we gave you drugs.”

“Wanted you.”

“Could’ve had me. I left that button for you to hit. Don’t you remember that conversation?”

“Wanted you now.”

“Well aren’t you impatient.”

Tony reached over and pressed the portable call button that Helen had given him.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

The kid nodded against Tony’s chest.

“Oh, Peter.”

As painful as the admission was, he’d been expecting this. It was fanciful to believe that Peter would talk away from the Raft without lasting repercussions. All Tony could really hope for was that the PTSD was mild and, at the very least, easily treatable.

Helen Cho bustled in and did a double take when she saw Peter’s empty hospital bed.

“Peter decided to take a late night walk.” Tony explained. “He also decided that the IV was an unnecessary hindrance.”

Helen sighed as she waved a nurse into the room. “Alright. First things first, let’s get him back into his bed.”

As soon as the nurse tried to tug Peter out of Tony’s arms, however, the kid whined.

“No!” He whimpered, tightening his hold. “Please, Dad.”

And, yeah, Tony was pretty helpless in the face of Peter calling him Dad.

“Yeah, no.” He pushed the nurse’s hands away and fixed Helen with a pleading look. “Can’t you just drag his pain meds over here? F.R.I.D.A.Y. can monitor his vitals.”

There was a soft look on the woman’s face as she watched the way Peter tucked himself back against Tony with a contented hum. Somehow, Peter managed to make everyone around him go gushy and maternal. If he kept up with it, Tony would have to give it a name. The Peter Effect had a nice ring to it, after all. “Alright. Chapel? Can you grab some supplies for a new IV line?”

They cleaned up the blood and inserted a new catheter into the back of Peter’s hand to give his inner elbows a much-needed break. Tony could tell that the kid wasn’t overly happy about the process, but he didn’t do anything to disrupt the nurse’s work as long as Tony didn’t let his attention wander.

Was he spoiling the kid? Probably. Did he care? Not really.

“Alright. He’s good to go.” Cho checked his vitals on her StarkPad before she left, just to ensure all of the tech was in working order. “He seems fine, considering the circumstances. Honestly, I think it should be safe to release him in a day or two. The pleuritis and hypothermia have already resolved. His shoulder appears to be the only injury that’s going to persist.”

“How long until it’s healed?”

“My estimate is a week. It’ll ache a bit, but he should be off of the major pain meds by the time we release him. I’ll give you some pain pills for that first week. They should help take the edge off.”

“Thank you, Helen.”

Cho seemed surprised by the use of her first name and the honest gratitude in Tony’s voice. Her eyes flickered to Peter before re-centering on the billionaire. They glimmered with understanding. “You’re welcome, Stark.”

--

Not long after Cho and the nurse departed, the person Tony had been silently longing for came rushing into the room.

“Hey, Pep.”

Her eyes darted between Tony’s banged up face and Peter’s still form. The moment she realized Peter was asleep, she instantly quieted her movements. “Oh, Tony.”

He didn’t know how to react to the tears forming in her eyes, so he rambled. “I wish Peter was awake. He’d love to see you. I mean, I could wake him, but they’ve dosed him up on the good stuff so he’s pretty sleepy and Cho says resting will help him heal quicker so I feel like that would be sort of-”

He was cut off by Pepper’s lips colliding with his. He didn’t mind the interruption one bit.

In fact, he’d never been more grateful to have been rendered speechless in his entire life.

Pepper. Peter. P must be Tony’s lucky letter.

They kissed only briefly. Both of them were very aware of the delicate kid sleeping in between them, but their lips were together long enough to make Tony’s stomach hum with delight.

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” Pepper ran her fingers over his face and Tony felt tension he didn't even realize he was holding leak out of him. “I came while you were unconscious, but then I got so wrapped up in the legalities of everything that I was too busy to visit once F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me you were awake. I wanted to push it off on someone else, I really did, but I just couldn’t trust anyone other than me to get it done right. As it is, I have to run in a minute if I want to make it to my meeting with the Vice President on the Accords in half an hour and-”

This time, Tony was the one to silence her with his lips.

When he pulled away, he pressed their foreheads together and ran his thumb over her cheek. Tony could feel foundation and blush stick to the pad, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care about the state of her makeup. Pepper was here. Peter was safe. Everything was right with the world. “It’s alright, Pep. I understand.”

Peter shifted, and Pepper ran a hand through his hair while cooing to him gently. The kid was back out in mere seconds.

I am so in love with this woman.

“So,” Tony said, smiling as Pepper settled on the edge of the bed and curled around Peter, cocooning the kid between them, “how are the legalities going?”

“Do we have to talk about that right now?”

He winced, but nodded. “Sorry, Pep, but I think I need to know.”

She sighed. “I’m sure you can imagine, but it’s chaos. The President is scrambling to select someone to take Ross’ place. As far as you’re concerned, no one has even suggested pressing charges of any sort. The tapes and surveillance footage from the Raft took care of that.”

Tony’s heart rate spiked. “Ross knew Peter was Spider-Man.”

“That’s been taken care of.” Pepper gave him a smug grin. “Natasha and F.R.I.D.A.Y. ensured it. They edited to footage and all of Ross’ files. The government only saw what we wanted them to.”

“Remind me to thank Natasha when I finally get out of here.”

His fiancé paused. “About that… I’ve also been working on the Accords. I think this final meeting should resolve most of it. Ross was one of the driving forces behind them. Now that his true intentions and nature have come to light, people are far less enthusiastic about adhering to any documents that are associated with his name. The prevailing suggestion as of right now is to scrap the Accords all together and start anew.”

“What about Rogers?”

Pepper regarded him carefully for a moment. “If the Accords are annulled, then he and the others will be absolved of all charges.”

“That’s… good.”

She watched him carefully. Tony didn’t even try to hide his emotions. She’d always been able to see right through him, anyway. “Rhodey tells me you let Steve meet Peter.”

“I did.”

“Which means you talked to him.”

It wasn’t a question, but Tony answered it anyway. “A little.”

There was another stretch of silence where Pepper seemed to search for the right words.

“Are you okay?”

Tony laughed softly. It was a sad sound, but not a broken one. “No.” He looked down at Peter, sleeping peacefully in his arms. “But we’ll get there.”

--

Cho released Peter with strict instructions to rest.

She gave the teenager an extensive speech on taking responsibility for his own health before shoving a list of instructions against Tony’s chest with a quiet warning to keep his “stupid kid” out of trouble. The billionaire gave her a tight salute before herding Peter into the elevator. He clutched the instructions and Peter’s bottle of pain meds tightly in his fist. “Bed or couch?”

“Roof. Please?”

Tony briefly resisted the idea. What Peter really needed to sleep. What Peter definitely did not need was to go sitting out in the cold, night air. But then, Peter’s words from the Raft came flooding back all at once. Which ones do you think are out t’night?

He caved. “Alright. But after that, you’re taking your pills without complaint and getting a good night’s sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Take us up.”

They sat near the edge, just inches apart, and the billionaire was reminded all at once why he loved these excursions so damn much.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon. Tongues of orange and red licked at fading blue, swallowing the pastel hue with fire. It was beautiful, but Tony realized that it couldn’t hold a candle to the way Peter’s eyes lit up brighter than the entire universe as he watched the colors unfold.

The kid spent a few minutes just basking in the sky aflame with scattered light. When he finally spoke, he sounded breathless. “Thank you.”

Tony stared at the kid, frozen by his disbelief. “What are you thanking me for?”

“For the Raft.” Peter traced the curve of the sunset absentmindedly as he spoke. “For what you did. I-I don’t remember much from the end of it, but I know you took care of me. I know you saved my life.”

“I almost ended your life, kiddo, or did you forget that part?”

Peter tore his eyes away from the dying embers on the horizon to give his father a smile dripping with dopey adoration. “Nah. I knew you’d save me.”

Stark men were never meant to have children. “Ross took you because of me, Peter. They tortured you because of me. I-I’ll never forgive myself for that.” He shrunk away from Peter on instinct. “You should never forgive me for that.”

“Don’t do that.” Tony felt alarm flare through him, hot and vivid, when Peter’s voice came out thick with tears. “Please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Cut yourself off. Pull away because you’re scared of messing me up. I need you, Tony. I-I don’t have anyone else. And I’m-I need-I just…” Peter’s hest was heaving by the time he trailed off. “I need you to stick around. Please, Tony. For me.”

The billionaire scooted over until his hip was pressed against Peter’s. He rubbed grounding circles on the teenager’s inner wrist. “I’m not going anywhere, kid. I’m right here.”

“I don’t mean physically.”

And that was just it. Tony had spent an entire lifetime running. Running from his insecurities, his fears, his flaws. As a child, he’d never really learned how to cope with his emotions. So as an adult, when he felt anything, from hate to fear to joy to love, and he flinched away. He ran.

And now, those deeply rooted instincts were screaming for him to do just that with Peter. To shove his love for the kid in a box and run and run and run until he could barely remember what these intimate moments felt like. Until stargazing and movie nights and anchovies on pizza faded into oblivion. Until he could look into the kid’s soft brown eyes and not feel so terrifyingly vulnerable.

But there was a new instinct there, too. The instinct to protect. It had been growing steadily ever since he had seen Peter get knocked out of the sky in that airport in Germany. By now, the feeling had morphed from a gentle buzz into an ever-present surge of isPeterokayhaveIcheckedonPetertodayPeterPeterPeter that seemed to eclipse and erase all other thoughts.

So for the first time in Tony’s life, the urge to run was smothered by the urge to stay.

“I won’t, Peter. I swear. And I swear I’ll do better, too.”

“You don’t need to do better.” Peter didn’t look at Tony, but he did push ever so slightly into his side as he spoke. “You’re already doing great.”

Warmth swelled through the billionaire’s entire body. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Peter watched the stars silently for a while and, in turn, Tony watched him. After a few minutes, a tear slipped down his face. The kid jerked in surprise as it reached his mouth. It seemed like the teenager hadn’t even realized he was crying until he tasted the salt on his lips. Peter swiped at the sudden wetness with a congested sniffle.

Tony caught the kid’s wrist as he moved to brush away the second tear. The genius used a gentle finger to complete the action for him, letting his fingertips linger along his cheekbone. “Talk to me, buddy.”

“I just…” Peter’s voice broke. “I miss May. I miss her so, so much.”

“I know.”

“I barely even thought about her on the Raft. And now… I forgot how much missing her hurt.”

Tony understood the suspension of grief. The moments where you push aside your own pain and inner turmoil to address something larger. Something more important. He also understood just how suffocating it could feel when the peace finally came. That first, crushing moment when the grief came tumbling back in and you finally had to confront just how much you’d lost.

And Peter’s just a kid. A kid who's lost everything and still gotten back up.

The bravest kid, the bravest person, Tony had ever met.

“That doesn’t make you weak.”

“I know it doesn’t.” Peter rubbed his knuckles against the roof with a sigh. “It just sucks. I wish she was here.” The teenager seemed to realize that his words could be taken the wrong way and hastily added to them. “It’s not that I don’t want you, obviously, it’s just that…”

Peter didn’t finish the statement, so Tony did. “You want us both.”

“Yeah.”

It dawned on Tony that it had only been about five months since May died. In many ways, it seemed like a lifetime. But at the end of the day, Peter had only had a finite amount of time to process his grief. And he hadn’t even reached the stage of acceptance before Ross tore into their lives and disrupted the entire process.

Now the kid would have to grapple with grief and PTSD.

“I guess I’m not over it yet, huh?”

Peter’s voice was so apologetic and miserable that Tony’s heart constricted. “Oh, buddy. You’re not supposed to be over it. My mom’s been dead for almost thirty years and there are still days when I’m not over it.”

A lot more days than I’d like to admit.

“What about your dad?”

“My dad…” Tony grabbed his wrist, twisting the skin in his grip with a shaky breath. “My dad is everything I don’t want to be.” He tugs at his sleeve. “But, yeah, I miss him too.”

The last rays of daylight gave into darkness, and the stars hovered peacefully above them.

“Hey, look,” Peter pointed upwards, completely glossing over the vulnerability of Tony’s last admission, “I think that’s Canis Minor. Do you see it?”

It didn’t take a genius to understand what Peter was doing. If Tony didn’t watch out, the kid’s deflection skills might end up surpassing his own. Still, the billionaire indulged the change of topic with a flash of gratitude. “Yeah.”

“And I think that one might be Cancer, but I’m not sure. Do you know?”

If you told the old Tony Stark that, in ten years’ time, he’d be sitting on a rooftop next to a kid, his son, pointing out constellations, he would have laughed in your face.

That Tony Stark had no idea what he was missing.

--

“Alright, buddy.” Tony stopped outside of Peter’s bedroom and set a hand on his good shoulder. “You need help with anything before we both hit the hay?”

Peter looked up at him with wide, nervous eyes. “Can I-uh-can I maybe... sleep with you? You can say no. I-I don’t know if Pepper wants to, uh, join you or if you just wanna be alone for a bit because if-”

It took Tony less than a second to consider the request. He set a gentle palm over Peter’s lips to end his anxious rambles. “Absolutely, kiddo. You wanna go throw on some PJs and meet me in my room?”

There was so much pure gratitude on the kid’s face that it made Tony’s head spin. “Yeah.”

“Leave the shirt on. Just change your pants. We don’t wanna jostle that shoulder just yet.”

“Yes, Dad.”

Tony ignored the snark in the kid’s voice and gave him a gentle push into his room. “I’ll see you in a sec, Spider-baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sure thing, Spider-baby.”

He left before the kid could formulate another sarcastic response.

Tony was settled comfortably under the covers by the time Peter tiptoed into the bedroom. The teenager hovered uncertainty in the doorway for a moment, silhouette shifting back and forth, before the billionaire finally had enough.

“Come here, Peter.”

The kid didn’t have to be told twice. He shot across the room and crawled under the duvet, injured shoulder only barely hindering the movements. The teenager buried himself into Tony’s side with a quiet sigh.

It occurred to the billionaire that the motions were effortless. In the beginning, Peter’s constant need for physical contact had collided violently with Tony’s far more reserved nature. Their initial embraces had been stunted and tense. The first few times Peter had tried to curl into Tony’s chest like this had resulted in bumped heads and elbows to ribs and a great deal of awkward shuffling.

Now, though, Peter slotted right into place. The teenager tucked his face into his father’s neck and curled his good arm around the older man’s chest. One of Tony’s arms snaked around Peter’s waist, pulling to kid even closer, while his other hand took up its customary position in the teenager’s curls. And as the kid’s weight settled against Tony’s side, the billionaire could feel something deep in his being hum with contentment. Peter was right where he belonged, and Tony’s purpose was fulfilled.

He was always meant to hold this kid.

“How did I last so long without you, buddy?”

“Dunno. Pepper, probably.”

“Probably.”

Peter’s breath came in soft puffs against Tony’s throat. He absently traced his fingers across the teenager’s ribs as he watched the Compound’s lights filter through the curtains and paint patterns on his ceiling.

“Hey, Tony?”

The kid was busting out Tony’s first name. Whatever he wanted to say, it must be important. “Yeah, Pete?”

“I love you.”

Tony was, quite suddenly, immeasurably grateful for the protective darkness of the room. It meant that he would never have to admit to anyone that his eyes burned hot with tears at Peter’s gentle declaration.

Because he’d heard Peter say those words before, but this time it was different. The last time he’d said them, the teenager had been dangling on the precipice of death. It was gasped out in a haze of adrenaline and fever. And, either way, Tony had initiated it.

There was something sacred about hearing those words from the kid’s lips when his voice wasn’t laced with pain and fear. Because the kid didn’t have to say it. There were no stakes here, when the pair was tucked away in the sanctity of their quarters.

It struck Tony that those words were true. Peter loved him. Peter Parker, the purest human being Tony has ever laid his eyes on, loved Tony Stark, despite everything he had done.

I love you.

The words felt fragile. They felt peaceful. But more than anything else, they felt right.

Tony had spent so much of his life feeling wrong. Like he was an imposter in his own skin. Like he was a puzzle piece jammed into the wrong slot. But everything about Peter made him feel secure. It was as if he’d been waiting his whole life for a purpose. And now, he had found it.

All he had needed was Peter. All he ever needed was Peter.

“I love you too, Spider-baby.”

The kid didn’t even protest the nickname.

Maybe Stark men were never meant to have children, but there are outliers in almost any dataset.

And I’ve been an outlier my whole damn life.

Chapter Text

“Dad?”

Tony jerked around the cell, eyes searching desperately for the kid who belonged to that voice. But all he could see was the impersonal white of the walls. Empty. Devoid. The same sameness that had driven him mad.

The same sameness that had nearly swallowed Peter up. The same sameness that only highlighted the bloodstains.

“Peter?”

“Dad!”

“Peter!”

He wasn’t there. God, he wasn’t there. Where was he?

Had they taken him again? God, they must have. They’d taken him.

They’dtakenhimthey’dtakenPetertheywerehurtingPeter.

PeterPeterPeterPeterPeter.

The kid’s next shout was accentuated by a scream of pain. “DAD!”

No. NoNoNoNoNo.

“PETER!”

“Help me! Dad, please! Help!”

He tried to lunge towards the cell’s door, but as soon as his fingertips seemed close enough to brush the lock, he got tugged back. The walls were fighting back. The Raft knew what he wanted, and it did not agree.

It had swallowed Peter up, and it didn’t want to spit him back.

Another yell tore through the room. Every fiber of his being reeled against the sound of his child’s screams. Peter should never make those sounds. He wasn’t built for suffering. He was built for laughter and Legos and light.

“Peter!” Tony’s entire body shook. His child was in pain and he couldn’t make it stop. He needed to make it stop. “Peter!”

“Tony?” Peter’s voice was softer now, and closer. “Tony? Wake up.” The kid let out a little sob, and Tony’s heartrate spiked in response. “Please, Dad. You’re kinda scaring me here.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah. Just… just open your eyes. I’m right here. You just gotta look at me, okay?”

Peter was crying. Peter was afraid. Peter needed him to open his eyes.

PeterPeterPeterPete-

The world jerked into focus.

Peter.

The kid was hovering just above him, brow furrowed with worry.

“Tony?”

“Peter!”

Tony didn’t give the kid a chance to respond before he yanked him against his chest and gasped through the lingering panic. The desperation to protect thrummed through him with every heartbeat. He curled around the teenager, trying desperately to position himself in a way that covered every inch of him.

ProtectProtectProtect.

Peter seemed to catch on to his parent’s desire quickly. He shifted so that Tony could thread an arm between his ribcage and the mattress and voluntarily tucked his head underneath his father’s chin.

“I’m okay. It’s all okay. We’re both okay.” The teenager’s murmurs cut through his haze of panic. White walls were replaced by gentle cream and florescent lights mellowed into darkness. “See? I’m alive. I’m fine. You saved me. You protected me. You got us out.”

Alive. Peter’s alive. AliveAliveAlive.

One of Tony’s hands fumbled against the kid’s neck until he found his pulse. It was a little rapid, probably a lingering effect of being jolted awake by his parent having a nightmare, but it was strong and steady and right there.

A promise of life. A promise of time.

For each one of these heartbeats, Peter would have a thousand more.

He’d heard of parents resenting their children for their youth, but Tony couldn’t really imagine it. If he could give every single on of his remaining years to Peter, he would.

There was no one else in the world who deserved it more.

He turned his face into his kid’s hair, lips brushing against his temple. “Peter.” He murmured. “You’re safe.”

“Yeah.” There was a breathlessness to Peter’s voice, as if the words were sucking the oxygen straight out of his lungs. “I’m right here. I’m all good.”

“Peter.”

My kid.

--

When Tony woke again, it was to the shrill ringing of his cellphone.

He roused himself a lot quicker than Peter, which was pretty typical.

Teenagers, he thought fondly, they’re crankier than babies.

Sure enough, Peter burrowed his face into his father’s armpit with a high-pitched whine while Tony flailed a groggy hand at his nightstand until his fingertips bumped his StarkPhone. He’d planned on rejecting the call and going back to sleep until a glance at the caller ID changed his mind.

He hit accept and shoved the device against his ear.

He smothered a yawn. “Hey, Pep.”

“Oh, Tony. I’m so sorry. Were you asleep?”

“It’s fine.” He pinched the phone between his cheek and shoulder so he could tuck the comforter more firmly around Peter, who seemed intent on burrowing into a combination of Tony’s side and a collection of pillows. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Her voice dropped to a slightly raised whisper. “Is Peter with you?”

A small smile tugged at Tony’s mouth. “I don’t know. Hey, Peter, Pepper wants to know if you’re with me.”

“Mmm. Barely.”

“He says barely.” Pepper laughed, and Tony scratched distractedly at the point where the kid’s shoulder blades met, directing his next words at Peter. “You wanna nap while Pepper and I talk, bud?”

“Stay.”

“Your wish is my command.” The teenager giggled a little. Tony could feel the vibrations ripple through his ribcage. AliveAliveAlive. “Alright, Pep. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing, actually. I just wanted to give you a heads up that the Accords have been nullified. The UN is working on a new agreement, but it won’t be necessary for you to get involved for a few weeks yet.”

Tony heard what she didn’t say. “The Rogues?”

“They received their official pardons this morning.”

“Ah.”

Pepper’s voice was full of gentleness. “Are you okay?”

He stole a glance at Peter. “‘Course.”

“Are you just saying that because Peter is right there?”

“Peter’s not even conscious right now.”

“Am too.”

The kid’s muffled, grumpy voice made affection crash into his rising anxiety. The two grappled with each other. His hand slipped from Peter’s back to his neck, re-finding the pulse point with an almost instinctual ease.

“Oh, sorry. Turns out Peter is awake. He’s very upset that I thought he wasn’t. You know how babies get.”

“Not a baby.”

“Awe. Spider-baby says he isn’t a baby. It’s cute, Pep. He’s cute.”

Pepper’s laugh, soft and musical, echoed through the receiver. “Spider-baby?”

“Yeah. You like it? I think it’s gonna stick.”

“I love it.”

“Perfect.” He glanced at the clock and sighed. “Is that all? It’s nothing personal, but I’ve got a kid with a super metabolism who’s due for both a meal and some painkillers.”

“I understand. That’s all. Get Peter sorted.”

“I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Tell Peter I said hi.”

“Will do.”

“Bye, Tony.” She raised her voice a little. “Bye, Peter.”

The kid hummed in response, and Tony rolled his eyes. “He’s giving you a non-verbal, sleepy teenager farewell.”

“I’ll take it. I’ll talk to you later, Tony.”

“Until then, Pep.” He set the phone on his nightstand and gave the back of Peter’s neck a quick squeeze. “Ready for some breakfast, kiddo?”

Peter yawned, pulling his face away from his father’s armpit so he could rub at his eyes with a balled-up fist. Tony tugged his hand away with a gentle, “nuh-uh, kiddo. That’s bad for your vision.”

“Sure thing, mom.”

Tony laughed. “Am I mom now, too? When do I get upgraded to grandma?”

Peter reached up to tug at the billionaire’s hair. “I’d say pretty soon, considering the gray in here.”

I love you so fucking much, kid.

“Hey. Be nice to your old man.”

“’Old’ is definitely the right word.”

“Alright. That’s enough.” Peter let out a snicker that ended with a hiss of pain. “Yep. Breakfast, then painkillers. C’mon, kiddo. Time to get up.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Well boohoo for you.” He pulled the comforter away from the kid and gave his good arm a gentle tug. “C’mon, Pete.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t even think about their guests.

--

Steve hadn’t expected Tony to walk into the kitchen while the team had breakfast.

From the look on the billionaire’s face, the super soldier wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

His suspicion was only confirmed when Peter entered half a step behind his father, hair disheveled and obviously still half-asleep. Steve knew that Tony would’ve planned to keep him as far away from the team as possible.

And yet, here they were.

This should be fun.

Tony processed the situation and stopped abruptly a few steps ahead of the entryway. Peter nearly slammed into his face, blinking blearily and peering up at the back of the billionaire’s head, still oblivious of what his parent had just realized.

The open floor plan of the Compound meant that the kitchen and the lounge area were all one massive seamless space. Which meant that the entire team was in view. Which meant that every single one of them had been privy to Tony and Peter’s abrupt entrance. Which meant that the entire room paused to stare at the pair.

Peter’s entire demeanor changed the moment he sensed the room’s focus shift to him. His eyes, which had been droopy with sleep just seconds earlier, widened with panic and he skittered so violently into Tony’s side that the billionaire actually staggered before readjusting his balance.

The impact seemed to shake Tony from whatever trance he’d been in. He jumped into action, placing himself between Peter and the others before turning to murmur quietly into the terrified teenager’s ear.

Steve hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. It was obvious that the words were meant for Peter, and Peter alone, but the soldier's advanced hearing picked them up all the same.

“Take a breath, buddy. You’re good. We’ll just go back to the room and make Happy bring us something. No biggie. C’mon, let’s just-”

“N-no.” Even the single word wavered as the kid’s entire body shook. “No. I-It’s okay. We should, uh, we should stay.”

Tony pulled away from Peter to search his eyes intensely. He brought a hand to rest on the crown of the kid’s head. “You sure?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Tony sounded almost… disappointed at the kid’s choice. Still, he masked it well. He always did. “Say the word and we bounce, okay? Just stick tight to me.”

The billionaire turned around the address the room and every ounce of tenderness seemed to evaporate from his voice. Instead, it was replaced with his usual brand of dry, cutting snark. “What? You guys never seen a kid before? C’mon, Clint, don’t you have a small hoard of your own at home?”

Nobody responded, and not a single gaze shifted away from the pair. In fact, Steve could see Sam straining to get a glimpse at Peter as the teenager cowered behind Tony’s back.

To be fair, the scrutiny wasn’t unwarranted. This was the first time most of the team got to actually lay eyes on the famous teenager that had turned Tony Stark soft.

Steve could practically feel the waves of protectiveness rolling off of Tony. The billionaire moved back to Peter’s side and whispered gently in his ear. This time, the words were spoken so softly that even Steve couldn’t really pick them up.

The kid gave a jerky nod, gasping in a steadying breath before winding his fingers on his injured arm into the fabric of Tony’s sleeve.

Alright, Captain. Take control. Lead. Diffuse the situation.

“Good morning, Peter.” Steve shot the teenager a warm smile, which Peter returned gratefully. “We’ve already got breakfast going. Would you like pancakes or waffles?”

“Oh, uh, p-pancakes, please.”

“Sounds good. You’ve got an enhanced metabolism, right? We’ll load you up.”

“You better eat it all, too.” Tony’s gaze stayed zeroed in on Peter. He seemed intent on ignoring the rest of the room’s occupants. Steve knew exactly what he was doing. He was sinking into his role as a parent in order to ignore his role as an Avenger. He was trying to bury his anxiety under a suffocating layer of concern. “You need to eat more.”

Peter barely seemed to even notice the words. It took him a solid ten seconds to recognize that the plate Steve was holding out was meant for him. He grabbed for it with his good arm, and would have dropped it if Tony hadn’t steadied his hand

The billionaire’s brow pinched as he slipped back into Peter’s personal space to help him support the plate. It occurred to Steve that neither Tony nor Peter seemed to actually have a personal space when it came to each other.

From the looks on the rest of the team’s face, he wasn’t the only one who noticed it.

“Your shoulder hurt too much to use both hands, bud?”

The kid’s voice was small. His eyes darted to where his fingers were still tangled in the fabric of Tony’s sleeve. “Didn’t, uh,” a small blush rushed through his cheeks, “didn’t wanna let go.”

It was rare that Steve described something as cute, but that scene was the closest he was probably ever going to get. He even caught a glimpse of Natasha’s mouth quirking up at the corner.

The billionaire tugged Peter’s hand away from his shirt and placed it on the plate instead. “I’m not gonna leave your side, okay?”

Reluctantly, the teenager gripped his breakfast with both hands. Steve set Tony’s plate on the counter, aware of the man’s phobia of being handed things, and the billionaire scooped it up without a second glance. Steve thought it was a little hypocritical that the genius held the dish in one hand so that he could keep a steadying contact on Peter’s back to guide him into the living room, but the soldier didn’t say anything.

The rest of the team was spread out across the couches, watching the pair shuffle in with no small amount of curiosity. Tony pushed Peter to an empty loveseat right by Rhodey, and they settled into the cushions side by side.

Tony tapped a pointer finger against Peter’s wrist. “Eat.” He popped a piece of waffle into his mouth in demonstration. “See? All the cool kids are doing it.”

A demure smile pulled at the corner of the kid’s mouth. For the first time, a sliver of his personality shone through his shyness. “Who? Captain America?”

Clint and Sam both snickered shamelessly. Tony rolled his eyes and tore a piece of pancake off of the kid’s stack and shoved it into Peter’s mouth, smothering the teenager’s indignant protests.

“That’s what you get for being a brat, brat.”

Peter swallowed his mouthful and pouted. “You’re the worst dad in the entire world.”

Steve could feel the aftershocks of the statement rush through the room. Everyone, excluding Tony, Peter, and Rhodey, froze in shock. The Colonel just smiled at the pair and shook his head.

“And you’re the worst kid. How’s it feel?”

“Quit tormenting my nephew, Tones.” Rhodey tossed a piece of bacon at his best friend. “It probably qualifies as child abuse.”

“Yeah, quite tormenting me.” Peter leaned against the arm of the couch and winced as the movement jostled his shoulder. Rhodey narrowed his eyes at the kid just as Tony spun to do the same.

“He taken his pain meds today?”

“Not yet.” Tony shoved the back of his hand against Peter’s forehead, like the gesture would tell him everything he needed to know about the kid’s pain levels. “We slept late and then I needed to get some food into him first.”

Rhodey nodded. “He can take them now, as long as he eats after.”

The kid was quick to object, even as Tony pulled the pill bottle out of his pocket. “I’m fine. I don’t need them.”

“Peter.” Rhodey shook his head at the teenager. “Don’t be stubborn.”

“Why is everyone ganging up on me this morning?” Peter shied into Tony’s side, and the billionaire slipped an arm over his shoulders like clockwork. “It’s not nice.”

Rhodey ignored Peter’s comment. He just strolled back into the kitchen and returned with a glass of orange juice, which he shoved unceremoniously into Peter’s free hand. “Take your meds, Peter.” He softened his gaze. “You don’t have anything to prove.” He finished the encouragement with an obvious glance at Tony.

Whatever it was that Rhodey conveyed with that look must have worked, because Peter let Tony shake two pills into his palm and knocked them back without another ounce of resistance.

Steve didn’t miss the way the billionaire’s shoulders lost some of their tension at the concession.

The room slipped into a slightly uncomfortable silence after that. Everyone was nearly finished with their meals when Clint spoke up.

“So,” the archer said, eyes settling on the teenager, “how bad is it, kid?”

Tony tensed, his hold on the Peter tightening possessively. The kid just looked confused. His voice was soft and shy when he answered. “What do you mean?”

“Having to live with Stark 24/7. I mean, I’d make it two days max. But from what I hear, you’ve been doing it for months.”

Tony’s voice was low. Somehow, it managed to convey both a reassurance for the kid and a warning for Clint in a single tone. “You don’t have to talk to him, Peter.”

But the teenager pushed away from his father with a glare. For the first time, Steve saw a spark on Tony’s influence in his eyes. Fire and passion and violent extremes. “Mister Stark is great. I love living with him.”

The archer studied the teenager closely before raising his hands in surrender. “It was a joke, short-stack. Calm down.”

Tony brushed a hand down Peter’s side. The kid melted back instantly, as if the gesture somehow flicked a hidden off switch. “Relax, Peter.”

The room fell quiet, and Steve could tell that the subsequent tension made Tony twitch. The billionaire clenched and unclenched his fists before tightening his posture with decision and addressing the room. His words dripped with practiced nonchalance. “Well, this has been lovely. Team bonding, rainbows and lollipops, the whole nine yards. But, if you don’t mind, Pete and I are gonna bounce.” He tugged Peter to his feet and herded him towards the door. He paused just before, hand braced against the wall. There was sincerity in his next words. “Thanks for feeding my kid, Cap.”

The room was swathed in perplexed silence for a few minutes after they disappeared. Finally, Clint put voice to his thoughts.

“Does anyone else feel really, really lost?”

--

Tony clicked the lock on the bedroom door and slumped back against the frame with a shaky exhale.

“Mister Stark?”

Tony groaned, stress making his voice come out a lot snappier than he intended. “Listen, kid. Going from Mister Stark to Tony to Dad and back to Mister Stark again is giving me whiplash. Can we please decide on one and run with it?”

The violent stab of regret came instantly when he saw Peter fidget at his words. “Oh. I-I’m sorry Mist-oh, um, T-Tony.”

He buried his face into his hands and clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. The twisted position made his back whine in protest. “No. No. Don’t apologize. I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t… you can call me whatever you want, kiddo.”

Peter wrapped his fingers around his wrist, giving a little tug that Tony resisted. “I-I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me.”

“Did the other Avengers upset you?”

“I’m not upset, Peter.”

“You seem upset.”

Shame filled his chest. Peter’s voice wobbled like he was wavering on the edge of tears. He had seen how overwhelmed the poor kid had been during breakfast, and yet it was Tony, the adult, who was having a breakdown. After everything that had happened, he couldn’t even hold it together for his kid.

What kind of parent am I?

“You always help me, you know.” Peter pried Tony’s fingers off his face and set them against his wrist, positioning them so that his father could feel the teenager’s pulse drumming against the skin. Shit. So Peter had noticed his newest nervous habit, then. He didn’t know why he was even surprised. The kid seemed to notice everything about him. “When I’m upset, I mean. You help me calm down. Why won’t you let me help you?”

“It’s not your job.”

“Why can’t it be?”

Tony stared at his feet, pausing to consider the question. “Because you’re my kid. I’m supposed to take care of you. That’s… that’s my job. That’s what I signed up for. You didn’t sign up to take care of me.”

“No. But I want to.”

Tony finally looked up at his kid. His eyes were full sincerity. Usually, such an emotionally intense gaze would repel him. For some reason, however, he couldn’t seem to glance away. Peter’s pulse sped up a little under his touch as he stuttered out his next words.

“We’ve got each other, right?” A smile unfolded across Peter’s face. Every ounce of stress slipped through Tony’s fingers until he couldn’t even remember the echo of it. “When May died, I had you. On the Raft, I had you. And I still have you now, too. You’re my constant.” Tony squeezed the kid’s wrist in response. You’ve always got me, kiddo. “And that means that I get to be your constant, too.”

Tony sighed, and nodded towards the bed. As soon as they had settled down side by side, he set a balled-up fist in front of his mouth and sat quietly for a breath.

“I’ve told you about Siberia.”

“Yeah.”

“You know what PTSD is, right?”

Peter nodded. “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“You can say what it stands for, but do you know what it means?”

“It’s what you get after traumatic stuff happens to you.“ The kid pressed at his knuckles, refusing to meet Tony’s eyes. “It’s what I have, right? It’s-It’s why I can’t be alone.”

That was new information. “You can’t be alone?”

Peter shrugged. “Not really.”

“Okay. We’ll… we’ll talk about that, alright? We’ll work on that.”

“You have PTSD because of Siberia.”

It wasn’t a question, but he nodded in affirmation anyway. “Being around the team is just…”

“A lot?”

He laughed at the gross simplification. “Yeah. A lot.”

Peter sighed and curled his knees up to his chin. Tony wished he could bundle him up and protect him from all the bullshit in the world.

But he couldn’t. If the past few weeks had taught him anything, it was that.

“I’m sorry I freaked out at breakfast.”

The billionaire jerked his head to look at Peter so quickly that something in his neck popped. “We’re gonna have to start a rule about apologizing for things that aren’t your fault.” He paused to brush a lock of hair away from his child’s temple. “And you didn’t freak out.”

“I shut down.”

“You did.” He conceded, studying the anguish on Peter’s face. “You wanna talk about why that happened?”

The kid slammed his fist against the side of the mattress in frustration. “I don’t know! I saw them and I just… stopped.” He dug his chin more firmly into his knees. “I couldn’t really process it all.”

Tony nodded. “I did some research on PTSD in adolescents while you were recovering. That’s not abnormal.”

A smile brushed against the worn fabric of Peter’s sweatpants. “I’m surprised you didn’t buy a psychiatrist.”

“That’s human trafficking. Which is illegal, by the way.” He ruffled the kid’s hair. “But I could buy their services. And we will be doing that, as soon as you’re ready.”

“Can you go with me?”

“Until you’re ready to do it alone, of course.”

Peter twisted so that he was facing Tony, sheets bunching up underneath him. His knees dropped forward and bumped against the older man’s thighs.

“We’re gonna get through this, right? Everything’s gonna be okay?”

Tony’s mind flashed back to four white walls and the deafening echo of certain defeat.

(“We-we’re gonna get out of this, right? Everything’s gonna be okay?”)

This time, he didn’t have to think about his answer. This time, there was comfort in the truth.

“Of course we are, buddy. How could I let us be anything else?”

Chapter Text

The team moved back into the Compound, and Tony and Peter went back to the Tower.

Steve had tried to convince them to stay at first, but Tony brushed off every argument. Despite everything, he still knew his team. He knew that they meant no harm, but he also knew that Peter was an anomaly for them. Something to be analyzed and understood.

And once they sunk their teeth into a mystery, they didn’t let go.

He didn’t want that for the kid. He wanted Peter to be cocooned away from the chaos that was the Avengers. He needed space to process. Space to grieve. Space to rediscover what safety felt like.

And Tony? Tony just wanted peace and quiet. He wanted time to heal, for both him and Peter. He wanted to curl up in the penthouse with his kid and never let him go.

So that’s exactly what they did.

--

“Hey, Peter.” The kid glanced up from his book. “Apparently, I get a $4,050 tax deduction for keeping you around.”

Peter smiled. They were sitting in their penthouse suite, spending a much needed day to themselves. Peter was reading The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe, which was a gift from Rhodey, while Tony worked on his taxes. They were both sprawled out on the couch, with Tony leaning forward to work from the coffee table and Peter nearly horizontal, the top of his head resting against his parent’s hipbone. The teenager set the book against his chest and wound his fingers through one of Tony’s belt loops before speaking.

“I’m sure that $4,000 is really gonna take the edge off. I mean, you’re barely scraping by.”

“It’s because you eat me out of house and home.”

“No. It’s because you build multi-million-dollar suits in your spare time.”

“Touché.”

Peter grinned, turning his face until Tony could feel his nose digging into his thigh. “Why do you even do your taxes? Can’t you pay someone else to handle them?”

“I could. After all, Legal handles all of the SI paperwork. God, could you imagine? That would be a nightmare.” Peter giggled as Tony poked a finger into his stomach. “But I like doing my own. It’s monotonous.”

Soft understanding dawned on Peter’s face. “Boring.”

(“Ou-our lives are g-gonna be s-so b-boring after this.”)

“Exactly.”

The kid watched him silently for a moment, and Tony held his gaze.

“I like boring, I think.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

“This is pretty boring.”

Tony tangled his fingers in Peter’s hair and leaned back against the cushions with a relaxed sigh. Peter gave his belt loop a light tug and Tony slid a thumb across his temple in response. A conversation without words. The were getting good at those. “It is.”

“We should be boring more often.”

“Sounds like a plan, kiddo.”

If that’s what it takes, buddy, I’ll make “boring” my middle name.

--

Peter wanted boring, so that’s exactly what Peter got.

In fact, Tony and Peter had spent all their time since moving back into the Tower doing… nothing. They made breakfast (“We need to pick up some milk. Can you run to the fridge and write it on the list, Pete?”), they watched animal documentaries (“Don’t ‘Tony’ me. You are not watching graphic lion sex. I don’t care how educational you think this show is.”), they took Buzzfeed quizzes just to compare their results (“Apparently, I should go to Tokyo for my next vacation. You interested in trip to Japan, kid?”), they worked towards trying every pizza parlor in the city (“Stop laughing, Peter. This is awful. I could use this pizza to change the oil in my car, it’s that greasy.”), and they solved puzzles.

“I think this is a part one of the nebula’s arms. Maybe the right one?”

Tony checked the piece Peter was pointing at. “Probably. Add it to the right arm’s pile.”

The kid sorted it. “Hey, did you see that video of a Panda playing with a dog that’s been going viral?”

He shifted positions, elbow bumping against Peter’s thigh. “Nope. You’ll have to show it to me later.”

“Hmm. Yeah. You’ll love it.”

Tony couldn’t help the way his eyes strayed away from the puzzle and settled onto Peter’s face as they worked.

He liked watching the kid when he was distracted. He found comfort in the familiarity of the way Peter’s fingers twitched erratically in deep thought, the way his left eye scrunched up when he was toying with a new concept. He liked to watch him uncover his own creativity, digging into the soil of his genius and bringing up the harvest of ideas.

There was something about watching Peter’s mind play with a problem that was enrapturing, even if the inspiration was something as simple as a jigsaw puzzle.

There was a complexity to Peter’s thoughts that functioned without turbulence. It was something that Tony had not known at the kid’s age. It was something that Tony had not known for a long time after that, either. His mind had never been quiet. His thoughts had never been straightforward. His whole life, he’d grown used that special brand of chaos that he carried within himself. He didn’t think he wanted anything other than that ever-present cacophony until, well, until Peter.

But now? His life had never been so simple. It had never been so domestic. It had never been boring.

And his thoughts had never been so easy to pacify.

He realized all of a sudden that it was everything he’d ever wanted.

Peter shifted, eyes finding Tony’s with instinctual ease, and the spell was broken.

“What’s up?”

Tony wondered how long he’d been staring at the kid. Probably a while.

“I was just watching you concentrate.”

A grin lit up Peter’s face, and Tony’s soul settled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

--

It was Sunday evening. They were channel surfing and trying to toss popcorn into their mouths.

Excitement sparked through Peter’s eyes as a documentary on the Weather Channel popped onto the screen. “Whoa! Look at that! That tornado tore the roof off that school like it was nothing.”

Tony wordlessly unmuted TV at the kid’s interest. The narrator’s voice rolled over the room.

“About 30 students are still stuck inside the school when the second tornado hits. At home, their parents wait for news with baited breath, unsure if their children survived the disaster.”

The scene cut to an interview with a news anchor who covered the tornado’s destruction.

“I couldn’t imagine being a parent, waiting helplessly while your child faces what, at the time, seemed like almost certain death. It must have been truly one of the worst moments of their lives.”

Tony’s world whited out.

He desperately wanted to reach for Peter, to reassure himself that he was safe, but the adrenaline seemed to harden in his veins, freezing him in place. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t protect.

A prison cell. A countdown. A heartbeat just waiting for an end.

(“I want him to die screaming.”)

Small hands gripped his wrist and put his calloused finger on something soft and smooth. A beat pounded through the surface.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

A heartbeat. A heartbeat that had nothing but time. A heartbeat that was so familiar that he could almost taste the routine.

His own pulse fell into the rhythm, and he could feel the adrenaline fade. He tugged his eyelids open and glanced around the room. At some point, the kid must have reached over for the remote and flicked the screen to a different channel. The tornado’s destruction had been replaced by an episode of Cash Cab.

His gaze slid away from the TV and found its favorite view.

Peter.

“You okay?”

Tony smiled, subconscious still absorbed in the thudding of the kid’s heart, and ruffled his curls in an unspoken response.

Thank you.

Peter leaned into the touch.

You’re welcome.

--

You see, Tony and Peter chased boring, but chaos did not forget their names.

There were moments where that became abundantly clear. Painfully clear. Moments where they were reminded that trauma was not erasable. Moments where what has been and what is began to merge.

Tony hated those moments, but that did not stop them from coming.

--

One of these reminders came every night, because Tony’s bed had quickly become Tony and Peter’s bed.

For reasons that weren’t overly difficult to deduce, the kid couldn’t sleep alone.

In fact, Peter had barely even spared his room a second glance since the Raft. He only left Tony’s side to shower and change clothes. Otherwise, he stuck to the genius like glue.

Tony knew that he shouldn’t indulge the codependency, but he couldn’t really help it. On the few nights when he and Peter did try to sleep apart, the kid wasn’t the only one who didn’t get a wink of rest. He could barely stand to have Peter out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time before his heart started racing with barely contained panic.

So, as it was, the clinginess suited him just fine.

(And, okay, maybe Peter wasn’t the only one who was becoming dangerously codependent. Oh well. He’d deal with that some other time.)

The door to his bedroom bumped open and Peter hopped onto the bed with a grin that morphed into a grimace his shoulder bumped the headboard.

Tony waited for the kid to settle and then tugged the collar of his t-shirt askew to get a good look at the skin underneath. Thanks to Peter’s super healing, the only remnant of the gruesome wound was a thin, silvery line, and Helen Cho said that even that scar may fade with time. But despite the cosmetic perfection of the wound, Peter’s shoulder ached. Cho said that it was normal, that there had been a lot of internal damage that his body was still repairing, but that didn’t mean that the lingering pain wasn’t exhausting some days.

Yet another reminder of Ross and the Raft, as if they needed any more.

“Does your shoulder hurt, buddy?”

“A little, yeah.”

“C’mere.”

Tony guided Peter onto his chest. The kid smushed his cheek against the spot where the arc reactor used to be, letting out a relieved breath as the billionaire gripped his shoulder and massaged the abused muscles gently.

“Better?”

“Mmm. Much better.”

“You need me to grab you something for the pain?”

“Nah.” Peter groaned happily as Tony’s fingers hit a particularly hard knot. “’S not that bad. Just needed you.”

Ah, there it was. The coil of fierce love and protectiveness lit up in his stomach, hot and violent as any sun. He thought back to a time when the sensation would have frightened him, and nearly laughed.

“I love you so much, Peter.”

Peter grinned up at him, eyes half-lidded and syllables rounded with sleepiness. “I know.”

“Are you quoting Star Wars on me now?”

The kid hummed contentedly and dropped his chin onto Tony’s chest with a gentle thump. The billionaire smiled down at him, kneading his palm into Peter’s lower back. The teenager melted into the touch.

It took Peter long enough to answer that by the time he did, Tony’s mind had nearly wandered. “Always quoting Star Wars.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re a massive nerd.”

“Are too.”

“I am too?” Peter made a lazy noise of affirmation as his eyes slipped shut, and Tony moved his massage back to the kid’s abused shoulder. “Well, maybe.”

“Good match.”

“Yeah, Spider-baby. We are.”

--

An AC/DC song faded into oblivion. Tony’s voice floated in after it. “Alright, Peter. Your turn.”

“Oh! F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you play Atlas Hands by Benjamin Francis Leftwich?”

A gentle guitar flooded through the room. Tony scoffs, but the sound held no weight. There was too much fondness in the edges. “I thought we were playing fun music.”

“This is fun music!”

“It’s sad! Listen to it. It sounds like something playing at a funeral.”

“You sound like something playing at a funeral.”

“Impressive comeback, kiddo. You must have spent, what, a whole three seconds on that?”

Pepper and Rhodey rounded to corner to a sight that made both of them freeze midstep.

Two large baskets of laundry were sitting in the junction between the kitchen and the living room. Peter was lounging on the counter, legs kicking absently into the empty air. He was folding a pair of jeans, which he set on the growing pile of folded clothes beside him. Like clockwork, Tony, who was sitting on the floor right beside one of the baskets, tossed him a pair of sweatpants while simultaneously tugging out one of Peter’s nerdy science tees and carefully folding it before placing it on his own pile.

The two continued their conversation, oblivious of the two gaping figures watching them.

“Can we have Thai for dinner?”

“We had Thai last night, kid.”

“But I like Thai.”

“Yeah, I know. Why can’t we do shawarma?”

“Because we always do shawarma. I’m sick of shawarma.”

“Well, I’m sick of Thai.”

“I’m sick of you.”

“You’re on fire today, aren’t you? How about this: you let me have shawarma, and you can pick what movie we watch.”

Peter considered the concession briefly before nodding, quick and concise. “Fine. We’re watching Kim Possible: The Movie.”

Tony snorted, eyes glowing with fondness and posture loose with contentment. “Why?”

“It’s got an evil robot in it! You’re gonna love it!” Peter tossed a pair of socks at Tony’s face. The billionaire caught them and set them on his pile. “Can we watch it in the lab? We can make a pillow fort and Dum-E and U and Butterfingers can watch it with us! They’ll love it!”

“Your attachment to my bots is concerning. You do know they don’t actually have emotions, right?”

“Don’t be such a downer.” Peter looked around and finally noticed Pepper and Rhodey in the doorway. “Oh! Hi! Tony, look! It’s Miss Potts and Rhodey!”

“I have eyes too, kiddie.” He chucked Peter a hoodie to fold and gestured for his fiancé and best friend to join them. “Hey there. F.R.I.D.A.Y., why didn’t you tell me Rhodes and Pep were here?”

“You did not wish to be disturbed during, and I quote, your ‘Spider-baby time.’ Did I misinterpret your meaning, Sir?”

Tony’s response was hasty. “No, no. That’s fine, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” He turned his attention back to the pair lurking in the doorway. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

Pepper shook herself out of her surprise with more grace than Rhodey, who was darting his eyes between Tony and the pile of laundry in the same manner one might regard a unicorn.

She completely ignored Tony in favor of addressing Peter. The billionaire didn’t seem to mind. In fact, a soft smile curled across his face at the sight. “Hello, Peter. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Pepper?” She moved into the room and dropped a soft kiss to the teenager’s temple. “We just came to talk to your dad about some legal stuff. Do you mind if we steal him for a minute?”

Peter’s entire demeanor changed all at once. The carefree smile on his face dropped and tension flared through his entire body. One of his hands jerked out in Tony’s direction. Pepper doubted he even knew he was doing it.

Tony leapt to his feet so quickly that Pepper could only assume he’d expected the reaction. He caught Peter’s flailing hand and gave his fingers a little squeeze, voice low and soothing.

“Hey, it’s good. I’m not leaving.” Tony smoothed a finger underneath the cuff of the kid’s sweatshirt. “See? Right here, Spider-baby. Take a breath.” He shot his fiancé and best friend one of his signature everything-is-fine-but-it’s-really-not smiles. “I’m sure Pepper and Rhodey would love for you to keep us company while we chat. Right, guys?”

The Colonel’s voice was hesitant. He knew he was missing something, but he didn’t know what. “It’s not classified, Peter. You can stay. We just didn’t want to bore you.”

“I like boring.” Peter blurted, and then blushed. “I mean… I don’t mind. I just, uh,” he unconsciously tugged Tony closer, voice softening to the point where everyone had to strain to hear him, “please don’t take him away.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’ve got nowhere to be.” Tony hopped onto the counter beside the teenager and gently transferred Peter’s fingers from his hand to his beltloop. Pepper didn’t miss the way the kid latched on like Tony was the only thing tethering him to Earth. “So, boring business. Please elaborate. We can barely contain our excitement.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes, pulling out a StarkPad. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Peter, do you think he’s being sarcastic? He sounds sarcastic. That’s a little rude.” He leaned over to stage whisper in the kid’s ear. “If you conk out during this, I won’t blame you.”

A breath rushed through the teenager’s lungs as his position relaxed. It was as if Tony was tugging Peter’s anxiety from his mind like scarves from a magician’s sleeve. He knew exactly which words to say, which strings to pull.

The kid smiled, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. “I’ll only nap when you’re talking.”

“Mutiny, from my own son?” Tony looked to Rhodey and Pepper for support, only to find both of them smothering laughter. “Look at this! I get no respect.”

Pepper couldn’t help but notice that even as Tony and Peter joked their way through the meeting and the teenager’s body relaxed at the familiar banter, his grip on his father’s beltloop never once loosened.

--

“Do you have the four of diamonds?”

“Go fish.”

“Damn it.” Tony grabbed a card from the stack. “How are you so good at this game?”

Peter shrugged. “Do you have the three of hearts?”

Tony handed the card over. “Uh, you got a jack of spades?”

The kid gave him a card and studied his own intently. “Do you have the eight of hearts?”

“Go fish.”

Peter’s fingers brushed the stack. “I want to go to May’s grave tomorrow.”

And… wow. Talk about a conversation change. Tony lowered his cards to the floo when he saw Peter do the same.

“We can do that.”

“It’s her birthday.”

“Really?”

The kid regarded him quizzically. “You definitely knew that.”

To be fair, the kid wasn’t wrong. “Maybe.”

“Were you going to let me ignore it?”

“If that’s what you wanted, then yeah.”

There was emotion that Tony did not understand in Peter’s voice. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.”

“Can I bring her flowers?”

“Of course. We’ll get her some really nice ones. Does she have a favorite?”

“Purple pansies.”

“Purple pansies it is, then.”

Peter nodded, and then picked up his cards. “It’s your turn.”

“Do you have the four of clubs?”

--

Morning brought light and loss.

Peter wavered at the entrance of the cemetery, his shadow disrupted by the spikey fence.

Tony watched his kid waver, thoughts tumbling over each other like rapids in a river.

Disrupted. Isn’t that the perfect word for our lives? Disrupted. Disordered. Disturbed

“Do you want to do this alone, buddy?”

A head shake. “No. I-I want you to come.”

“Then I’m right behind you.”

Neither of them had been here since the day they buried May. The solemnness of the occasion still hung over their heads, muting colors and dulling sounds. Grief lived in between these headstones. It was his kingdom, his playground.

Tony tried to forget just how close Peter had come to being buried deep in one of these graves.

“You remember where to go?”

Peter nodded, jerky and uncertain. “Y-yeah. She’s right by Uncle Ben. I used to visit him a lot.”

“You need me to go first?”

The kid snapped his chin up so quickly that Tony’s own neck ached in sympathy. “No. No. I’m good. I need to… I need to go first.”

Peter’s next breath seemed to rattle through his whole body. Then, he took his first step into the graveyard.

And another. And another.

Tony followed silently. He matched whatever pace the kid decided on. If Peter wanted to sprint, he would sprint. If he wanted to stumble along at a snail’s pace, he would watch the sunsets pass without a single complaint.

It’s strange, Tony thought, to love a person this much.

Peter stopped in front of May’s plot. Tony positioned himself a few feet away, hands clasped behind his back in a show of respect.

It also hid how much they were shaking.

For a moment, Peter did not shift. He did not breathe. Then, he swayed. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. A small whine tore its way up his throat. Finally, after working his jaw back and forth few a few breaths, the teenager hiccupped and spoke.

“Hey, May.” Peter set a trembling hand against the headstone. “I… I don’t really know what to say. I didn’t really prepare anything. I just… wanted to say hi, I guess. I miss you, but I know that you know that already. You… you were always really good at knowing what I was feeling. Sometimes I think you figured it out before I did.” The kid sank to the ground, kneeling with his eyes trained on the name etched in the granite in front of him. “I’m not alone, by the way. I know you’d be worried about that. I’ve… I’ve got people in my corner. Mister Stark is kinda my, uh, my person now. He’s not replacing you, or anything, but he’s… he’s good. I’m good. He makes sure I’m good. I-I really love him a lot, Aunt May.” The kid gave a wet laugh that finished in a sob. “I wish you could come back. I wish I could have you both.”

It took every ounce of his willpower, but Tony stayed back and let Peter cry. He hated it. God, he hated it. It felt like his very DNA was coded in a way that made it impossible to stand idly by and do nothing while that kid, his kid, hurt, but he also knew that Peter needed this. He needed to feel the pain, the loss, and crippling emptiness. He needed to let himself grieve.

He needed to say goodbye.

So, at least for that moment, Tony did absolutely nothing.

He’d be there in the aftermath. He’d let him fall apart, and then he’d help piece him back together.

Peter sniffled, hand hastily wiping at his eyes, his cheeks, his nose. “But I know you can’t come back. I know I can’t have you both. And… and I think I’m starting to be okay with that.” Peter pressed his forehead against the cool stone. “It’s not that… it’s not that I wouldn’t make you come back if I could, y’know? But… but Uncle Ben always said that you’ve gotta accept the things you can’t change so you can focus on the things you can, so that’s what I’m trying to do. Cause there’s a lot of things I can change. A lot of good stuff I can do. Good stuff I can do because of all the good stuff you taught me. And that’s... that’s how I’ve decided to live. I’m not gonna live in spite of my grief, I’m gonna live because of it. I’m gonna live because of you.”

The world does not deserve you, Peter. It never has, and it never will.

Peter stayed frozen for a long time after that. Finally, he hauled himself into shaky feet and shuffled into Tony’s side. The billionaire gave his shoulders a quick squeeze. “You done?”

“Yeah.”

Tony gestured to the grave. “You mind if I have a quick chat?”

There was so much emotion on Peter’s face that Tony could barely process it all. In the end, the kid just bit his lip and gave a teary nod. “She’d like that, I think.”

“Then I have to, don’t I?” He rubbed the pad of his thumb against Peter’s cheekbone. “Keeping May happy happens to be one of my main priorities.”

Peter let out a rainy laugh as Tony pulled away from him. The billionaire stepped forward and stared down at the dirt, gathering his thoughts.

“I’m not the best at this kind of shit, so I’ll make it quick. You have better things to do than listen to me ramble, anyway.” He wasn’t sure if he was humoring Peter, himself, or if he truly believed that May could hear him. Either way, he didn’t stop. “I just wanted to thank you, I suppose.” He could practically hear Peter shaking behind him. “You chose me for him. At first, I didn’t understand why. But I think I do, now.” His gaze shifted to the headstone. “I needed him. I need him. I think you saw that, somehow, even when I didn’t. So, thank you.”

He felt a tug as Peter latched onto the back of his jacket. He went to turn away from the plot, then paused.

“Oh, and May?” Tony tapped the top of the headstone once, in parting. “We really did score the greatest kid, huh?”