Chapter Text
“No.”
“But,” said Peter, dropping the tablet he’d been holding. It hit the table that sat between him and Tony, but Peter had stopped paying attention to it once it left his hands. He glared at Tony, who was glaring into his cellphone. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I do know,” he said. He didn’t bother looking at Peter, not even as he spoke to him. “You were going to ask what you’ve been asking all week and the answer is still and will always be no.”
Peter creased his face, slammed his back against the chair and dug his toes into the carpet beneath him. Having spent the past couple of years living on his own, he wasn’t familiar with hearing the word no, so he hadn’t appreciated hearing it all week long from Tony.
It was insulting. It made Peter want to hack his ears off with an axe.
Tony and his bullshit rules and schedules and fake concern for his safety made him want to leap out the window just to prove to Tony he could survive the fall.
But he hadn’t done that.
He’d done something worse than that. He’d been good.
He’d followed all of Tony’s rules.
He’d eaten dinner with him, Morgan, and Pepper every night, and went to bed at eleven, and tried not to complain during the day when Tony’s science buddy poked at him with needles, running tests on his biology. He didn’t even complain when Tony dragged him all over the tower, to receive checkup after checkup, to make sure he was healthy after being out on the streets for so long.
He’d been polite to Pepper and nice to Morgan, even though they were practically strangers and inside he’d felt like screaming. This wasn’t his family or his home, and the way Tony constantly told him no was just a reminder that, despite what Tony had told him on his first night there, he was very much a prisoner.
All his good behavior and hard work had come with no reward, or at least, none he cared about.
“This is fucking bullshit,” said Peter, finally getting Tony’s attention. He looked up from his phone, but his expression remained dull, bored, unimpressed.
“Your mouth is fucking bullshit, watch it,” he told him. His eyes moved to the tablet on the table. “Chop chop, that test isn’t gonna finish itself.”
Peter crossed his arms and deepened his glare. Tony just stared back at him, blank faced and calm, making Peter slam his toes against the carpet with more resolve.
“Why can’t I just go for a walk?” asked Peter, cringing at his own voice, at the way it had sounded like a whine.
That was part of the bullshit. That Tony Stark made him sound and feel like a child throwing a tantrum, when Peter was actually fourteen and an old fourteen at that. He’d been taking care of himself before most kids knew how to pour milk into bowls of cereal.
He didn’t need Tony looking after him, which was exactly what he claimed to be doing each time he told him the dreaded word.
“I… what if… you came with me?”
Tony stared at him. Looked at him like he was stupid, and for a brief few seconds, Peter wondered if Tony was as frustrated as he was, until he shoved the thought away. Tony was the jailer. He didn’t have a right to be frustrated.
“What if… Steve could go with me.”
Tony let out a breath, and softened his expression, or at least, tried to. Peter gave him an A for effort.
“Listen,” started Tony, his voice went softer, too. “It’s been a rough week. I get it. You’re still adjusting and you’re unhappy, but you know why you’re here and why I can’t let you go outside, so you’re gonna have to deal until I figure things out.”
Peter frowned. He recognized the tone and didn’t care for it. Not exactly soft, but it sounded the same way it did when he used it with Morgan the night before when she’d been caught sneaking cookies before dinner.
It was a dad voice, one that wouldn’t be reasoned with.
“Come on, kid, pick up that tablet and get it done,” said Tony. “We have your dentist appointment in thirty minutes.”
Tony went back to ignoring him in favor of whatever was so important on his cellphone and Peter looked out the window. Freedom was so close, just separated by a thin sheet of glass, a black tracker locked around his wrist, and Tony Stark, who he’d never be able to escape from,
Maybe it wasn’t so close, after all, just looked that way, like some sort of cruel illusion.
Peter picked up the tablet and looked back at the screen. The intelligence test Tony had loaded up on the screen was still there, taunting him. The questions weren’t hard, so it was easy for Peter to intentionally answer each one of them wrong, in the most absurd way.
*
“Well, there’s good news, and then there’s the bad news,” said Dr. Brenner, as he walked into the exam room, where Peter and Tony had been waiting. “Good news, there’s no sign of any cavities, which is actually something short of a miserable, considering your background.”
Peter shifted, and the plastic exam chair crinkled under him. He didn’t really like Dr. Brenner, but they were stuck with him. He’d signed an NDA regarding Peter and Tony trusted him. Besides that, Peter had a feeling it wasn’t just Dr. Brenner. He just really didn’t like dentists.
“Bad news, we’re going to have to take your wisdom teeth out,” he told them. He pulled out a few x-rays on a digital screen. It didn’t matter. Peter wasn’t looking at them. He was trying to get Tony’s attention, but apparently, Peter was invisible. “As you can see, they’re going to be a problem for you soon, if we don’t, so hey, it’s actually good news, too. You arrived here at the compound just in time.”
“Got kidnapped right on time, you mean,” muttered Peter, crossing his arms over his stomach, and causing the dentist to frown.
“Ignore him, he’s having a bad day,” said Tony. “How fast can we make this happen?”
Since they were ignoring him, Peter blocked them both out as they talked time and dates. Instead of listening he picked at a string on his sleeve. His sweater was brand new and comfortable and nothing at all like the clothes he wore when he was homeless. He yanked out the string and watched the ones around it unravel.
It came undone the same way, though. That was at least something.
“Great, I’ll let the surgical department know to expect you two tomorrow,” said Dr. Brenner, as Tony stood up from the chair beside where Peter sat.
“Tomorrow?” asked Peter. He stayed where he was, looking back and forth between Dr. Brenner and Tony, who were, of course, ignoring him.
“Perfect. Keep it on the down low?”
“Of course.”
“Tomorrow?” repeated Peter, louder that time, and getting both adults attention.
“Yep, we’ll see you bright and early – “
“What? No – no you won’t,” said Peter, he turned to Tony, who was giving the dentist an apologetic look. Dr. Brenner gave Tony a shaky smile back and excused himself from the room, leaving the two of them alone.
“Don’t you want to get this over with?”
“No,” said Peter, too fast. Then paused. “Maybe I don’t even need them out.”
“Do you like pain?”
“No – “
“-Then you need them out.”
Tony’s voice that a tone of finality to it, so Peter knew the discussion was over. He followed him out of the compound’s medical wing, the oral unit, and down hallway after hallway, staying quiet and sullen. He trailed him, never stepping out in front, or even coming up by his side. This was what he was reduced to. Sulking and pouting for his own way, instead of being free to make his own choices.
Neither of them spoke again until they stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut.
“I can’t believe you’re letting them take my teeth.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you, spider-kid, defender of Queens, are scared of the dentist.”
“I’m not afraid,” said Peter. “And I’m not – I wasn’t a defender. I was a thief and criminal.”
“Right, kid, a real street hard criminal. Pretend to be that all you want, but you forget, I’ve seen the all footage and I know you spent just as much time saving people as you did stealing from them.”
When the elevator doors opened, Peter bolted into the penthouse. He didn’t stop or look back until he made it to his bedroom, where he gently shut the door behind him. He stood beside it, hoping Tony wasn’t going to follow him in there and bother him some more with the truth.
After a few minutes passed, Peter sighed and went to sit on his bed and gaze out the window. Part of him was glad Tony hadn’t followed him, and part of him was still back in that dentist chair, or sitting at the dining room table, trying to get his attention.
*
Peter snapped a Lego in place, furthering his progress on his current model kit. It was some sort of classic, hot rod car. Peter didn’t know. Tony had picked it out.
He’d upgraded him from jigsaw puzzles to Lego models. Not the kind little kids did, but the kind collectors would buy and build and keep behind glass. On his second day living with the Stark’s, a giant box filled with the model kits arrived. It had Peter’s name on it. Literally, and it was the first time he’d ever received a package in the mail, or at least, the first time he’d received one that wasn’t stolen.
Peter had to at least give Tony credit for that one.
He might be his jailer, but at least he cared enough to keep him entertained while he was trapped in his room, with the door shut, in the evenings when he wasn’t being hauled around the compound for medical tests.
He snapped on another piece as his door creaked open, with a knock. He turned, and saw Morgan, who smiled at him. She marched into the room and held out a piece of paper with crayon scribbles all over it.
“I made this for you,” she told him.
Peter took it and looked at it closer. He could vaguely make out the outline of a tooth, that was smiling, and holding up a toothbrush with one of its stick arms.
“Daddy says you’re afraid of the dentist, so I drew this for you to make you feel brave,” said Morgan. “It’s not that bad, and when you’re done, you get to pick out something from the treasure chest.”
“I don’t think my dentist has a treasure chest.”
“Of course they do,” said Morgan. “What kind of dentist doesn’t give away prizes at the end?”
“The kind the wants to hack my teeth out with a butcher knife.”
Morgan’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“It’s time for dinner,” said Tony, clearing his throat in the doorway. Morgan frowned at Peter, giving him scared eyes that stabbed him with guilt, before retreating from his bedroom. Once she was gone, Tony’s attention narrowed in on Peter. “Watch it, okay? You can’t tell her shit like that, it’ll give her nightmares.”
Peter sighed and stood up from where was sat on the floor, in front of his model car. “Yeah, sorry.”
He really was sorry. It wasn’t Morgan’s fault he was frustrated.
“And they don’t use a butcher knife,” said Tony, as he clapped him on the shoulder.
Peter didn’t flinch away, like he usually did, when Tony tried touching him, and instead, let him steer him by his shoulder all the way to the dining room, where Pizza Hut boxes had been spread out all over the table.
“Thought we’d try something traditional tonight,” said Tony. “Since this will be your last meal eating solids for a while.”
Peter took his usual seat across from Morgan and tried not to worry about how he didn’t flinch, or how Pizza Hut reminded him that he had depended on Tony once before. It hadn’t turned out terrible then, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad now.
He shook the thought away. Hope was dangerous. It cost too much, and Peter couldn’t afford it. Even still, under the table where no one could see, he folded up the drawing of the tooth and slid it into his pocket, before grabbing a couple of slices of greasy pizza. At least his prison kept him well fed.
*
After Peter was so stuffed from pizza he could barely move, he, politely, declined Pepper’s offer to watch movies with the family on couch in the living room. Instead, he went back to his own room, shut the door, and worked on the Lego car.
He almost had it finished when he caught the time and decided to change into his pajamas, before Tony bust into his room and ordered him to do it. That man was serious about his
schedules, as Peter figured, most wardens were.
So he changed, and he brushed his teeth and got ready for bed, and by the time he finished and walked out from his bathroom, Tony was sitting on his bed, waiting for him. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be in his room at this time. Most nights he stopped by just to tell him goodnight and ask if he needed anything. This wasn’t most nights.
There was an annoyed look on his face and a StarkPad in his hand.
“Do you wanna explain what the hell this is?” asked Tony, holding the tablet up. Peter could see, even from where he stood across the room, it was a score sheet loaded up on the screen.
“Umm, a StarkPad?”
Tony stared at him, then said, “Come over here.”
Peter’s legs moved automatically, and he hated that. He at least liked to pretend he could be directly disobedient, but just seconds later, there he was, sitting next to Tony on his bed. He pushed the StarkPad into his hands. The test results were loaded onto the screen, showing Peter had gotten a total of zero questions correct. He couldn’t help the slight smile that appeared on his face, the rush of pride, at his own brilliance.
“Explain.”
Then just like that, the smile was gone.
He shrugged. “Guess I’m just not as smart as you think I am.”
“Cut the bullshit,” said Tony, in a snap.
They were both on edge, they were both tired and frustrated with each other, and Peter was sure he was about to see and hear what Tony really thought about him. That this was temporary. That they were just buying time, and once him and the other Avengers got what they wanted, they’d toss him to the streets or to Fury.
Peter couldn’t figure it out, though. What they wanted. Maybe they had already gotten it. Maybe that was why they were really testing his biology.
Tony took a deep breath, and rubbed his temple, then released. “Pete, why did you do this? Why are you tripping out about a harmless test?”
The answer got lost somewhere on his tongue. Rather than tell the truth, he shrugged.
“Okay, well, after you recover from your surgery, we’re gonna redo it and you’re gonna take it seriously, got it?”
Peter didn’t say anything in return. He couldn’t sit there and tell Tony he’d give him an honest test when he knew he had no intention of doing so. If Toomes had taught him anything, it was to never show his hand, to never let anyone know what he had up his sleeve.
There was another lesson, too, though, that cancelled out the first. Always see an opportunity. If he had something the enemy wanted, he might be able to make a trade.
“…if I get all the questions right, will you let me go outside?”
Tony let out another slow, frustrated breath and plucked the tablet out of Peter’s hands. “Why do you want to go outside so bad?”
“I dunno. Just wanna go for a walk.”
“A walk?” asked Tony, deadpanned, then stared at him with eyes that searched, that scanned, as if he could detect the lies just by looking at him. “Look, we keep having this same conversation over and over again, you’re starting to make me feel like a broken record, so quit asking.”
Peter sighed and nodded his head. He didn’t know why he thought he could change Tony’s answer when he’d been so adamant about keeping him locked up all week.
“Hey,” said Tony. “I’m gonna figure out how to fix this as soon as I can, you’ll be off to school with the other kids in no time.”
“School?” asked Peter, with a frown.
“Yep,” said Tony, putting a hand on Peter’s head and messing up his hair. “With the other brats.”
Maybe Peter didn’t want to be able to go outside, after all. Then again, it was sort of hard to imagine Tony getting rid of him when he was talking about school plans. He shook the thought away again. Still dangerous. It could still just be a lie. Adults were really good at that.
Tony stood from his bed and walked across the room, stopping once he got to the door. “Get some rest, we’re getting an early start tomorrow.”
Tony left him in his room at the same time his lights started to dim, the way they always did at eleven, the time Tony decided he should be in bed. He supposed he didn’t mind the bedtime, his body was adjusting to it, and by the time his head hit the pillow, his mind was already shutting down.