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“Are you even aiming for her mouth?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow at Peter across the table, who was making airplane noises as he tried to feed baby Morgan, giggling in her high seat.
“Yeah,” Peter muttered, despite the mess that was the apple-flavoured baby food across the tray and table. “She’s just not great at holding still – come on, Morgan, there you go!”
Tony smiled at the scene before turning back to his own dinner. Pepper sat next to him, her fingers curled around her wine glass, her bare feet tapping a rhythm out on the floor.
“He’s doing great,” Pepper said, as Morgan wasn’t trying to stick her fist in the bowl. “Yesterday, I was trying to get her to eat breakfast and she picked up the bowl and threw it across the room.” Peter and Tony laughed as she smiled, tipping her head to the side. “She’s got a good arm – almost cleared the couch.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Is that what caused the suspicious stain down the back of it?”
Pepper hummed. “The maid’s visiting on Friday, I’m going to see if she can fix it because I sure as hell couldn’t.”
Tony opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by FRIDAY speaking overhead.
“There are incoming reports of an attack on the Met. Men armed with guns have attacked civilians and taken hostages.”
The three superheroes at the table looked at one another for a moment before Tony stood. He sent a glance at the other two and then his daughter, giggling and oblivious to the mood shift.
“You two go,” Pepper said. “I’ll take Morgan to Julie in PR and catch up.”
Tony and Peter nodded in tandem, then the three of them were on their feet; Tony rushing out to the balcony, calling the armour to attach around his body and Peter to the couch where he’d dumped his backpack, pulling out the Spiderman suit and jumping into it. Pepper swung Morgan up into her arms and disappeared into the depths of the penthouse, towards the elevator, where she’d search for one of her friends, who worked for SI in the building, to babysit, before calling the Rescue armour.
Tony looked out across the city, sky slowly growing dark, and let his fingers twitch until Peter ran out, swinging onto Tony’s back. The two of them lifted off, FRIDAY plotting the course to the Met and linking the comms together at once.
“The attack has been claimed by the Watch Dogs,” FRIDAY announced.
“The who now?” Tony replied.
“The Watch Dogs,” Peter said. “They’re an anti-inhuman terrorist group. How don’t you know that?”
If Tony could’ve shrugged while flying with a spider-child on his back, he would’ve. “Been busy raising an infant or something like that. Why would the German Shepherds attack the Met?”
FRIDAY responded instantly. “The newest exhibition is a celebration of inhuman powers and culture. Tonight is the opening, in which many inhuman artists and prominent members of their community were invited. According to reports from police frequencies, it is believed that at least half of the people at the event are dead.”
“Shit,” Peter muttered.
“Yeah, kid,” Tony breathed. “Shit.”
-
The Met didn’t look like a bloodbath from the outside. It was lit up with spotlights shooting beams out into the sky; neon lights along the edges of the building, large signs and banners announcing the exhibition: Inhuman. The initial panic with inhumans was over long ago; many had gone through Terrigenisis, discovered incredible powers – given to them by the Cree, or something, Tony had only skimmed the report – and been immediately added to a watchlist.
When the Accords were put into place, inhumans were called in to sign right after the Avengers. After that, it was mutants and then it was just the vigilantes on the streets who hadn’t come in to sign because they’d found the loophole that they weren’t any of the above. Peter was like them – luckily still a minor and so didn’t have to sign yet – but people like Jessica Jones and Luke Cage (illegal experiments) and Daredevil (bad luck and God turning his back on him) were then searched for in the streets until they signed the papers they’d been avoiding.
There were still people out there avoiding the Accords, and Tony assumed there always would be – but he hadn’t heard of the Watch Dogs; hadn’t heard of their anti-inhuman code and the attacks they’d pulled off before. FRIDAY listed them in one ear during the trip and fell silent upon arrival.
It didn’t look like a bloodbath at all. Not from outside.
Police were lined up in squad cars; snipers on nearby roofs and a strike team clambering out of a van. Peter dropped off Tony’s back as an officer approached, supposedly the one in charge.
“Stark,” she said with a nod. “I hope you’re here to make yourself useful.”
“Be a bit of a dick move if I was just here to watch,” Tony replied, looking to the building.
“They entered through the front,” the officer said. “Took down security and went into the main event where they opened fire. There’s been zero contact with them so far, but they are live streaming.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She nodded him to the nearest squad car, where a few officers were crowded around a phone. Tony and Peter followed and looked as she angled the phone towards them.
“FRI,” he said, “get the feed for Spidey and my monitors.”
He looked away as it appeared in front of him; a poor angle of an exhibition hall, blood splattered across the walls and art work, sculptures rising out from piles of dead bodies.
“Christ.”
“You can say that again,” Peter muttered.
“They’ve been spending most of the feed just talking out their asses – anti-inhuman sentiment and all that. We’re gonna have strike teams head in across the different entrances, shoot to kill.”
“And the hostages?”
She sighed. “They started killing one hostage every five minutes about ten minutes ago. Just for kicks. They know what’s going to happen. The longer we wait, the more likely they’re all going to die anyway.”
“Right,” Tony said, blowing out a breath. “Get your teams in position. I’ll head through the front-”
“Karen says there’s a good entrance high up into the room they’re keeping the hostages in,” Peter announced. “I’ll head in through the windows.”
Tony nodded. “Stay out of sight, alright? Don’t jump in until everyone’s in position – I’ll link us to the police comms.”
Peter saluted. “Got it. Oh – Karen says Pepper’s on her way over.”
“Great. FRIDAY can relay the plan to her. Kid, you and Rescue try and save as many hostages as possible.”
Peter scoffed. “Like I was going to do anything else.”
-
The assault happened in the time it took for Tony’s heart to beat once, twice, three times-
It was gunfire and blood splattering; cops falling from their vantage points in stairwells when they were hit and bullets bouncing off Tony’s suit. He fought them with his repulsors and with the strength the suit allowed him; throwing them across the room to be taken out by someone else.
There were less hostages than Tony had hoped. It was more than half the party dead on the ground; their blood painting the art work hanging on the walls and the sculptures of rebirth and Terregensis – moments of new life and broken faces of either heartbreak or absolute delight now painted in a deep, dripping crimson.
The Watch Dogs had bombs, because of course they did, and they went off around the room; small blasts that took down a wall or a group of people. They weren’t the big kind of bombs, but they were still doing damage.
Everywhere Tony turned there was a familiar blur of red. Spiderman leaping across the room, weaving in and out of trouble as he picked up civilians and deposited them at doorways, behind officers, in good hiding places. Peter didn’t focus on the Rabid Dogs much – he took down one, from what Tony saw, and immediately leapt off to help a woman stumbling through the fray.
Then Peter was out of Tony’s sight, and Tony was blasting off the bad guys, left right and centre.
Then, there was silence.
Across the room, whatever laptop they’d been streaming on was a steaming pile of charred plastic, the connection broken, and then two things happened at once:
First, a hand landed on his back. Second, a bomb detonated across the room.
It was a small explosion; localised and did little damage to anything but the floor – but it made everyone jump. It made Tony jump more so, as the hand landed on his back, and he spun suddenly, shooting before thinking; a repulsor beam hitting Peter square in the chest and throwing him across the room.
Peter hit the wall with a force that broke the painting he landed against, before falling to the floor. There was a second of shocked silence, then: “Fuck. Oh shit. Pe- Spidey. Spidey. Fuck, come on.”
Tony shot across the room, his faceplate retracting as he landed by Peter’s side. The front of his suit was smouldering with the blast and his head was drooped forward. Tony shuffled Peter’s body, trying to hear his breathing, trying to feel a pulse.
“FRI-FRIDAY?”
“Mr Parker is still breathing. He may have been knocked unconscious when he hit the wall, however.”
Tony blew out a relieved breath before the nerves set in again. He knocked his kid unconscious. Jesus Christ.
“Tony? Tony! Is he alright?” Pepper’s voice flooded in and Tony turned, only for a second, to find Pepper running across the room, donned in her suit. She’d entered the comms half way through the assault and confirmed that she’d helped hostages cleared the building – but that was before… this.
“Fuck,” Tony said. “FRIDAY thinks he’s unconscious.” Tony was moving Peter’s body until he was leaned up against his chest; his small body feeling so fragile in Tony’s grip. “I thought- I thought he was a bad guy. I – Pep.”
“It’s alright,” Pepper said as her faceplate retracted. “FRIDAY, set up the medbay at the Tower. See who’s on standby and bring them in. Come on, sweetie, let’s get you some help.” As she spoke, Pepper gently took Peter from Tony’s arms until she was carrying him, bridal style, in her own.
“Pep-”
“I’ll get him back to the tower,” she said, then her eyes flickered to the wall for a second, where the broken painting was swinging. “Yes,” she said, to the thin air. “I’ll send him. Tony, the officer in charge wants to speak with you. It’s fine, I’ll look after him.”
Pepper stood, a thousand times less jittery than Tony was feeling. He scrambled up after her. “Pepper-”
“This isn’t your fault,” she said, knowing already what he was going to say. “It was an accident. Spidey’s a tough kid, he’ll make it through. Go talk to the officer and catch up. I’ll make sure he’s okay.”
Pepper started off towards the windows, mostly shattered from the battle, and Tony looked after her, watching Peter’s body shift in her arms.
“Thank you,” he called.
Pepper didn’t reply to him, just smiled over her shoulder. She then turned to Peter. “Yeah, that’s right,” she murmured, soft. “Welcome back to the world of the living. We’re going to take a ride. Hold on.”
Tony watched as Pepper shot off into the night sky, carrying his son – their son? – in her arms.
-
Tony arrived about two and a half minutes after Pepper did, but it was enough time for Peter to be situated on a bed and for him to start rambling as if nothing had happened.
Tony disassembled the suit before entering, find Pepper in full armour leaning against a wall, her arms crossed and an amused smile playing across her lips. Peter, on the bed, was telling the doctor about the new Lego Death Star he and Ned were building – it was twice the size of their last one and they’d saved up for it for three months.
He looked up when Tony entered. “Hey, Tony!” Peter greeted.
“Hey, Pete,” Tony replied, stepping close. God, there was a dark stain on Peter’s suit where the repulsor had burnt it. There’d be no doubt bruises across his back from where he hit the wall. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m alright,” Peter said. “Though doc’s worried about me going unconscious for a bit there.”
Tony blew out a breath through his nose. “Look, Pete, I’m really sorry-”
“It’s okay,” Peter interrupted. “Really. I made you jump. There was that loud noise. It’s chill-”
“It’s not chill.”
“Okay, but it’s still fine. Seriously. I’m okay, I feel fine, and I know not to get on your bad side because those repulsor blasts are crazy strong.”
Tony winced, so Peter winced, and Tony had the strong feeling that Pepper was laughing at them. “Peter. Really, I’m sorry.”
Peter smiled and Tony could hear him pouring every ounce of sincerity he had into his response. “I forgive you, Tony. Really. But if you feel like you need to make it up to me, I never got to have desert before we rushed off to fight crime-” Peter broke off into laughter as Tony ruffled his hair, his eyes rolling.
“Oh, yeah, you’re fine.”
“See? Told you so!”
Pepper hummed as she stepped to Tony’s side. “Let’s let the doctor be the judge of that. But I agree: desert is needed. I’ll go fetch Morgan and some ice cream. You two be good.” She bumped her knuckles against Peter’s – something they’d been doing recently probably to make Tony feel left out – and pressed a kiss against Tony’s cheek – something she’d been doing for years, that always made Tony feel particularly not left out – before heading for the door.
“Ice cream,” Peter whispered with a smile. “Totally worth you attempting to kill me.”
“I didn’t-”
Peter cackled at Tony’s incredulous expression.
“You’re a terror child. You know that? I’m really glad we had Morgan so she can replace you. I only need one child and I’m picking her.”
Peter laughed still and shifted to the side to let Tony sit on the bed as the doctor moved to the monitor by the wall. “You would never,” Peter said. “Pepper likes me too much for that.”
“Yeah, kid,” Tony smiled. “Pepper would never let me get rid of you.”
As if Tony would ever dream of it, anyway.