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“She’s not a dog,” Peter commented idly as they stood in the aisle at Babies ‘R’ Us. He quirked an eyebrow at Tony, who was sighing and looking at the baby harnesses, his two-year-old Morgan in the buggy next to him.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Tony replied. “Hey, Morgan? Are you a puppy?”
“Yeah!” Morgan squealed. “Bark! Woof! Moo!”
“That’s a cow, baby,” Tony said, mild, “but close enough.” He sent a pointed look over his should at Peter, who shrugged.
“I stand corrected. You should get the pink one.”
“I’m not getting the pink one.”
“Mr Stark, you should absolutely get the pink one. She’d look so cute with it.”
“But there’s a black one right here.”
Peter shrugged. “Get both. The pink one for daily walks and the black one for when she’s walking through a cemetery.”
Tony sent him another look but took both harnesses down from the shelf. Morgan had been walking for a while now, but she’d reached the point where she didn’t want to stick by her parents’ sides and instead run off on her own to explore every nook and cranny of New York. Even the rat-infested parts.
Pepper had announced enough was enough when Morgan had almost run into the road.
Tony tilted his head at the harnesses then looked over to Peter, slipping them into his hands.
“We should get one of those for you,” he said as he turned the buggy and Morgan giggled at the movement. “Keep you from running off.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Har har, Mr Stark. Very funny.”
-
Two nights later, Spiderman climbed into Stark Tower via the balcony. Peter stumbled in the door, humming a greeting to FRIDAY and heading through the penthouse until he found the closest bathroom. There, he collapsed into the tub and let out a long breath.
There was a sickening feeling in his gut, welling and pooling – trickling. He shut his eyes, yanking off the mask and throwing it on the bathroom floor. He watched as blood started to smear against the bathtub and hissed whenever the bullet wound twitched.
“Boss is on his way,” FRIDAY said from on high.
Peter didn’t reply, just tipped his head back, shut his eyes and listened to the sound of footsteps in the hallway.
-
He woke up to his room at the tower and Morgan, sitting on his chest. She poked his cheek with her finger and he frowned at her.
“Hey, sweetie, what are you doing in here?” Peter mumbled, holding her lightly as he turned on his side and deposited Morgan on the duvet.
“Daddy says you hurt,” she replied, a frown so deep it caused wrinkles between her brows. Peter gently reached out a hand to smooth it out, trying for a tired smile.
“I’m okay,” he promised. The bullet had skimmed through his side – more damage to the suit than to him – but it had hurt like all hell. “Where is your Daddy?”
She shrugged. “Big idea.”
“He had a big idea?”
Morgan nodded. “Mommy said you wouldn’t like it.”
Peter frowned. This couldn’t be good.
-
He didn’t find out about the big idea until three nights later, as he swung through Queens as Spiderman. Things were going great; his side was all healed up, he’d knocked out an asshole following a girl home and he’d returned a few stolen bikes to their owners.
Then he hesitated on a rooftop when he heard the familiar clicks of guns. Peter jumped to the next roof and peered over the ledge, finding, as expected, a group of eight or nine men armed to the teeth.
Peter was confident in his abilities, sure, but he was also aware that nine people with guns could get at least one good aim on him at some point. He did as he was incessantly reminded to do and called Tony.
“What’s up, kid?”
“Any back up available?” Peter asked, jumping to the point. “I’ve got nine guys with guns – oh, look at that, three just put on ski masks. Not obvious at all. There’s a bank like four doors down so I wouldn’t be surprised if that was their target. Or the 24-hour shops across the road. They’re still open.”
“I can be there in two minutes,” Tony said.
Peter hummed. “Not soon enough. They’re moving.”
“Peter, just wait for me, okay? Stay out of sight.”
Peter jerked back when one glanced up and moved to another spot on the roof, watching the men head out into the street. The road was mostly empty and the rest of the gunmen pulled on their ski masks and hoods as they emerged.
“It’s happening,” Peter said. “I’ve got to-”
“No. Just wait. Engage if people are in danger, but you can’t take on nine at once. You have a habit of getting shot.”
Peter sighed and waited another five seconds, until he saw where they were headed. He’d been wrong. They aimed for the closed jewellery store – Peter knew that place was one of the fancy ones. He’d been in there with Tony once to buy something for Pepper – if that didn’t show the standard, nothing did.
Peter leapt to another roof, closer.
“I’ve got to do something.”
“Peter.”
“Mr Stark-”
The first guy smashed the butt of his gun into the door and the glass shattered. The alarm blared immediately, but they didn’t seem worried. They shot off the lock to the cage and pulled it back, slipping into the flashing red of the store.
Peter hesitated but he couldn’t just watch, right?
He jumped off the roof.
Peter took out the guy at the back, first, webbing him to the ground and kicking his gun away. Then came the next guy that he threw across the road; then the next, a kick to the crotch, web to the face, gun up the street.
Peter made it to guy number five before the ones at the front noticed him – then the bullets started flying. Oh, from more than one direction, he noticed, leaping and twisting in mid-air to avoid the hits. He hadn’t disarmed the second guy, who was back up on his feet. Crap.
Peter ducked behind a car and cringed at the sound of the windows shattering.
“Peter,” Tony said, calm and slow in his ear. “What did you do?”
“I uh- I fought a few guys.”
“And what’s happening now?”
“They, um. They have me pinned behind a car. I’m gonna-”
“Nope. You’re gonna do nothing but evade until I get there. Are we clear?”
Peter huffed.
“Peter.”
“Sure, yes, fine, we’re clear.”
Luckily, the Iron Man thrusters sounded only a few seconds later; the hero himself landing heavily in the street about the same time as the police sirens started up in the distance. Peter jumped out from behind the car to disarm the closest two, but the other seven were taken down with minimal effort by Tony.
When they were down and a crowd had effectively been drawn to the ruckus, Tony turned to him. The Iron Man faceplate always looked particularly unamused, but today more than normal.
“Hey, what was that thing I told you not to do?” Tony asked.
Peter paused then stuttered out some misshapen sounds.
“Couldn’t hear you, Spiderman.”
“You told me not to attack without you.”
“Right, right. And what did you do?”
Peter coughed. “Attacked without you.”
The squad cars came to a stop nearby, the police officers climbing out of their cars and rushing to the perps on the ground. Tony didn’t watch, just stared at Peter.
“Alright,” he announced. “I think you’ve earned this.”
“Earned what?”
Tony unclipped something from his side and Peter frowned at it. It was bright red and reminded Peter of-
Oh no.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Tony took a step forward. “Oh, but I am.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Spiderman.”
“Mr Stark-”
“You’ve earned this.”
By the next day, the photo had gone viral. Iron Man holding a harness that connected to Spiderman as if he were an infant, just learning to walk. The nearby police officers were cackling away and Peter lowered his head in shame.
“You’re the worst,” Peter muttered.
“I’m okay with that,” Tony replied, tugging on the lead and pulling Peter away from the store. “Made this myself, you know. It works so well with Morgan I thought it would work great with my other baby, too.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “God, I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Tony said, cheerful.
“No, I don’t,” Peter sighed.