Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You saw my pain, washed out in the rain
Broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins
But you saw no fault, no cracks in my heart
And you knelt beside my hope torn apart

“Tony?”

Peter opened the door to Tony’s bedroom, frowning seeing it empty. He could hear Michelle in the kitchen, Peter closing his eyes and as he tried to focus on where Tony could be.

He hears it, the steady heartbeat a few floors down - in the basement, Peter could guess.

Peter sighed, closing Tony’s door. He should’ve anticipated that’s where he would be.

Peter quietly opens the door, gingerly stepping down the stairs. Their brownstone was old, creaky and freezing in the winter - but it was home, the home he and Michelle had strived so hard to make for themselves, for Tony.

As Peter makes his way down the stairs, eyes adjusting to the darkness and dimly lit room, he thinks of how he should’ve expected that Tony would be down here - today of all days.

Peter stops, seeing Tony’s small shoulders hunched over a box - kneeling over it like Peter knew he would be.

“Hey kiddo.”

“Hi.” Tony’s voice sounds small, like Peter remembers it being when he was younger - back when all it took for Peter to make the world safer was a kiss on the cheek.

But Tony was a teenager now, officially fifteen as of this morning, and Peter should’ve expected that Tony’s mind would go straight to the one who wasn’t here.

“You mind if I sit with you?”

Tony doesn’t turn around but shakes his head, Peter coming up beside him - sitting cross-legged as he searches Tony’s face.

He can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was so firmly set as Tony faced forward, a jawline that Peter recognized from in the mirror, one that all Parker men had. 

Peter sees the way Tony’s eyebrows are furrowed, trying to keep his eyes focused on the picture in front of him instead of meeting Peter’s gaze. It isn’t until Peter brings a hand to his shoulder that Tony finally turns to look at him, seeing the tears threatening to break. 

“I’m--”

"It’s okay, kiddo.”

Tony blinks back the tears, setting the picture down as he takes a shaky breath. “Where’s mom?”

Peter pauses before understanding. “Upstairs in the kitchen.” Tony nods, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. 

“I didn’t want, I didn’t want her to see---”

“She’d understand, Tony.” 

“ No. ” Tony’s voice wavers but Peter can sense the firmness in it, saying nothing as Tony shakes his head before turning to Peter. 

“Please don’t tell her.”

Peter sighs, seeing the pleading in Tony’s eyes before slowly nodding. Tony seems to release some of the tension in his shoulders, Peter opening up his arms - beckoning him into a hug. It’s a gamble, Peter knows Tony had been trying to exert his independence lately and the easy affection that they’d always had was something Peter wondered how long they’d be able to hold on to. 

But Tony - as he always did - surprised Peter, rushing forward as Peter wrapped his arms around him, Tony burrowing his head into Peter’s chest. 

Peter held Tony as tightly as he could, knowing from the way his heartbeat was hammering against his chest that he was still just seconds away from bursting out into tears. Peter glances down to the picture Tony had held before closing his eyes.

It was a picture of Felicia, as he knew it would be - one of the only ones Peter had ever been able to find of Tony’s biological mother, cradling him just moments after he was born.

As Peter ran his fingers through his son’s hair, holding him tighter - he thanked the universe that even if he knew Tony felt a hurt so deep that he couldn’t explain it, that even if Peter had missed being there that day - that he could be there for his son now, thinking back to the day he’d found out he was a father.

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

“Mr. Parker?” 

Peter glanced up, looking at the man in a tracksuit up and down.

“Can I… help you?” The guy shrugged, handing him a large brown envelope with a clipboard on top. Peter looked down at it and frowned. 

“What’s this?”

“Beats me, here just sign so I can go. I got a lot more deliveries to get to.” Peter made a face, grabbing a pen from his desk as he scribbled his signature on the clipboard. Guy double-checked it, nodded then went to leave. 

“Hey, you didn’t say who it was from?” 

“Read the label, man. Have a good day!” 

Peter watches as the man leaves, shaking his head as his co-worker looks back to him.

“You got served or something, Parker?”

Peter shrugs, looking back down to the large envelope in his hands. 

NELSON AND MURDOCK, ATTORNEYS AT LAW 

The name doesn’t ring a bell for Peter, ripping the envelope open and letting the contents fall into his lap.

His stomach drops, eyes widening as his co-worker leans over.

“Oh shit.” 

Mark’s voice is distant, Peter staring at the papers in front of him.

COMPLAINT FOR CUSTODY 

Peter’s feels as if he can’t breathe, Mark's comment rattling around in his head. 

Complaint for custody? Custody of what? From who?  

Peter has an engineering degree from MIT, a Master’s from Columbia, and he can’t quite put two and two together at the package in front of him. 

It’s not until he brings the papers up, when a small photograph falls out from them that Peter’s mind starts snapping the pieces together, connecting the dots even as his stomach drops.

A small, dark-haired child smiles up at him, brown eyes gleaming. Peter could only guess the kid was a year old, maybe two, Peter had little experience with kids he has no idea - but it’s when he turns the photograph over that the final puzzle piece snaps into place. 

His name is Anthony, but I call him Tony.

He’s yours.

- F

“Peter, did you stop by the store?” Peter’s head snaps up, sitting at the small dinner table in the tiny apartment that he and Michelle shared. 

“Um, sorry, MJ, I didn’t, I got---” She waves her hand, kissing him on the cheek as she rushes toward the kitchen anyway, dropping her purse on the counter. 

“It’s fine, I figured as much. You want me to call Chang’s or should I?”

Peter doesn’t answer, mind still whirring as Michelle stops, turns back to him.

“Peter?”

“Hmm?” He blinks a few times, Michelle’s eyes narrowing.

“You have that same look on your face that you get when you forgot to pay rent even after I reminded you three times.” Peter bites his lip, Michelle’s look turning from one of annoyance to concern.

“Pete? What’s wrong?” She sits down in the chair across from him, reaches her hand across the table. 

Peter squeezes her hand, building the courage to tell her something that could - that would - change everything for them.

If she even wants to be a them after this.  

Peter takes the photo out of his pocket with his free hand, sliding it over to Michelle. She lets go of his hand, looking at it as she tilts her head.

“Cute kid. Whose is it?” 

Peter just stares, Michelle’s eyes widening as she turns the photograph over.

She looks back to Peter, an unreadable expression on her face. 

Peter waits, as Michelle takes a deep breath and sighs.

“Well shit.” 

She takes it a lot better than he had, all things considered.

Michelle was a problem-solver, a solution-seeker. If there was an issue with a landlord, her manager, a cashier - Michelle was the first one to step in, solve the problem before it became a huge issue. 

It’s part of the reason why she was such a damn good reporter, and one of the many reasons that Peter loved her. 

He’s still thrown by how easily she accepted this, as if this photograph and custody papers from his ex didn’t irrevocably change everything about their world - about their lives and relationship. 

It’d been a fling, a summer romance, Peter only meeting Felicia as he tried to drown his sorrows in a bar. 

Felicia was fiery and wild, passionate in a way that was similar to and yet different from Michelle. Whereas Michelle’s passion was focused, determined on her goals and ambitions - Felicia had taken life as it came, throwing herself at everyone and everything - feeling everything so vividly that it made Peter’s head spin. 

It was all passion, fire and rage in a way that Peter had never felt before - yet it was never meant to last. The heat of the summer gave way to fall, Peter’s desire for stability clashing with Felicia’s desire to keep things loose. They’d broken up a few weeks before Peter started his final year at Columbia - a month later, he’d patched things up with Michelle.

Peter had expected Michelle to be angry, to be hurt - something more than stoic acceptance. She’d double-checked the papers he’d been served, questioned aloud about a paternity test but other than that - Michelle had been nothing if not immediately supportive. 

It baffled Peter, as he pushed the shopping cart through the baby store - watching in amazement as Michelle plucked another blanket off the shelves. 

“I don’t think kids need this many blankets.”

“If he’s your son, then trust me,” Michelle locked eyes with him, setting the fourth blanket into the car, “He’ll be freezing all the time.” 

They hold each other’s gaze for a second before Michelle turns, busying herself with the list on her phone.

“MJ.”

“Come on, Pete. We should head to the toy aisle before we leave. I don’t know what babies like but I figure he’s your kid so he’ll enjoy his first LEGO set or something.”

“MJ.”

“Shit, can babies even play with LEGOs? How old is he again?”

“Michelle.”  She stops, sighing as Peter grabs her hand. 

“Are you okay?” 

“What do you think, Peter? Are you okay?”

Peter shakes his head, dumbfounded. “I, I don’t know what I am to be honest.” 

She bites her lip, looking into Peter’s eyes.

“You think he’s yours?”

“I… I don’t know, MJ. It’s… possible?” Peter shakes his head, eyes dancing around until it settles on some kind of nightlight. 

“How possible?”

“Felicia and I weren’t always careful, she was a lot more….” Peter trails off, Michelle seemingly understanding.

“Spontaneous?” Peter presses his lips together, inwardly kicking himself. He hated the idea of making Michelle feel she was second best, like she wasn’t as exciting or as passionate or as incredible as the blonde-haired bombshell that had just upended Peter’s entire world. 

He liked being with Felicia, at the time. She had been so different from Michelle, similar to her in the barest of ways - but it’d been just what he needed to forget how heartbroken he was, to throw himself into bed with someone who made him feel alive. 

And now, nearly two years after - right when he and Michelle had started to come into a good rhythm, right after Peter had already bought a ring - when his biggest concern had been how to figure out the most romantic and yet less cheesy way he could ask for her to spend the rest of her life with him - their entire world shifted once again. 

Felicia could be lying, he knew the smart thing to do would be to do a paternity test. But for all of Felicia’s coy smiles and snarky quips and sarcastic remarks - he can sense it in his gut that she wouldn’t do something like this. 

Their breakup had been amicable enough, Felicia being the one to break it off before Peter ever could. Peter hadn’t given much thought to Felicia afterwards, too blissfully grateful that he’d been able to make things work with Michelle. 

Felicia was a lot of things - she hadn’t told him about Anthony, had kept the truth hidden from for years - but this, giving him the biggest fuck you on the planet, only letting him know that he was a father after her death, seemed a bit too cruel - too out there, even for her. 

Michelle brings him out of his thoughts, gripping his hand tighter. 

“We’ll figure this out, Pete.” 

Peter searched for her eyes, looking for a hint of betrayal, or hurt, or anger - but all Peter saw mirrored back was a deep, unrelenting love - something Peter didn’t feel that he deserved. 

“Together.” 

Michelle smiled, the pressure of her hands making Peter feel grounded. 

“Together.” 

TWO YEARS LATER

“Papa!” 

“I’m coming, Tony, hold on.” Tony’s hands reach for him anyway, Michelle laughing and rolling her eyes. 

“He’s your kid, alright. Never listens to a damn thing anyone says.” Peter gives her a look, picking Tony up with ease as he wraps his tiny arms around Peter’s neck. 

“Mama said a bad word.” 

Peter opens his mouth in shock, Michelle grinning.

“Yes she did,” Peter bringing Tony around the dining room table. “What do you think we should do about that?”

Tony thinks a minute, Peter’s heart swelling at the way his little hands went to his face, a mimic of something Peter himself had done countless times before when he was young.

“Kiss attack!” Tony yells, Peter smiling as Michelle takes a step back, shaking her head.

“Oh no you don’t. Peter, Tony still has jelly over his hands.” Peter grins, taking a step forward as Tony lurches forward. 

“Mama, kiss attack!” Michelle’s face melts just a little, Peter’s heart skipping a beat at the sight as he takes another step forward. 

“Peter.” 

“MJ.”

She smiles, rolls her eyes before meeting them halfway, crashing her lips onto Peter’s, feeling the smile on her lips as Tony’s little arms wrap around them both. 

He laughs as Tony alternates between kissing Peter and Michelle’s cheek, the slobber and jelly getting over the both of them. 

As Michelle just laughs, taking Tony out of Peter’s arms, Peter just smiles. 

He hadn’t expected Michelle to take this as well as she did, hadn’t ever expected that this was how they’d have their first kid but now, Peter couldn’t imagine his life any different.

Peter had expected the questions, the weird looks in the grocery aisle and the confusion on people’s face when Tony would call Michelle his mother. 

Tony was the spitting image of Peter, his soft curls growing more wavy the older he got. Peter knew the assumptions about who she was to Tony bothered Michelle, the whispered conversations before bed about how they would approach that conversation - and what they could say.

“He’s going to want to know, Peter.” Michelle murmured, even as Peter kissed her forehead - bringing her closer to him. Michelle relented, burrowing her head in his chest as Peter wrapped his arms around her. 

“And we’ll tell him. We’ll tell him that Felicia loved him and that she gave birth to him but MJ, you are his mother.”

“Peter…”

“ You are the one who’s been there when he’s been sick. You are the one who spent hours trying to find a preschool for him that will actually challenge him. You are the one he cries for, MJ, the only person that he knows as his mom.”

“But Peter. Felicia’s…”

“Felicia’s gone , MJ.” Peter swallows down something in his throat, thankful that Tony was asleep, was still too young to overhear them, that he seemingly hadn’t inherited any of Peter’s powers.

It was a fear that Peter had had, in the beginning - piled on with all the usual terror of becoming a parent seemingly overnight. But even as Tony grew, looking more and more like Peter everyday, he could at least be thankful that Tony hadn’t inherited that. 

“We’ll tell him, whenever he asks. Whatever he wants to know. But Felicia’s gone, MJ. You are the only mother he’s ever known.” Peter holds her tighter, willing for her to understand. 

“You’re an amazing mom, MJ. Tony’s so lucky to have you.” He presses a soft kiss to her curls, closing his eyes. 

“ I’m lucky to have you.” 

Michelle says nothing, Peter wondering if she’d fallen asleep until a few moments pass - her muffled voice breaking the silence. 

“Damn straight.”

Peter laughs, adjusting to their position until he can look into her eyes - seeing the tears in them. Peter kisses her, her lips salty from the tears but Peter doesn’t care. 

He meant it, every word. He loved Michelle, loved Tony - and knew that even if Michelle hadn’t originally chosen this life, that she’d thrown herself into it headfirst - taking on motherhood like a second skin. 

As the kiss deepens, Peter moving so that he was hovering over her - he knew that even if Michelle had joked with him, that her fears wouldn’t be solved in one night or with any one word. 

But Peter, who loved her more than he could ever express, decided that he would spend a lifetime showing it to her - committing to himself as their kisses started to become more purposeful, that he would show this truth to her until his dying breath.

That Michelle wasn’t just the best mother, the best wife, the best partner - but the love of his life. 

NOW

As Peter walks with Tony back up the stairs, trailing not far behind him, he thinks of the first time they’d told Tony about Felicia and how difficult that conversation had been. 

When they’d first gotten the paternity test - an afterthought, after Peter had laid his eyes on Tony, knowing in his gut that the boy in front of him was his son - Peter had been so concerned about Tony inheriting his powers, wondered if the bite that had changed him somehow ran through his son’s veins. 

It hadn’t, as far as they could tell - Peter breathing a sigh of relief with each passing year. He never wanted Tony to feel the burden of responsibility, the need and desire to solve the world’s problems with everything he had. 

Peter should've guessed that his son - spider-powers or not - wouldn’t be able to escape that feeling. 

Tony was smart, smarter than he had any right to be according to Michelle. He’d tinker with his toys, breaking them apart and putting them back together - only better and in ways that made even Peter blink in surprise. 

It was something he’d whisper to Michelle, conversations before bed about how they could nurture Tony, encourage him as best they could with their limited salary and means. 

But that did nothing for Tony’s raving curiosity, his inner desire to push himself further and harder - in ways Peter wished he could just kiss away, tickle and joke like he did those first few years he’d come into their lives. 

When Tony had first asked about why Michelle looked different, how she could be his mom if they looked nothing alike, Peter had waited - watching as Michelle just invited him into her arms and told him, in the gentle way she always spoke to Tony, that while he hadn’t come from her belly, that he’d been born from her heart. Tony had understood, even then that Michelle was telling him something important - something that Peter knew stuck with him long after the conversation had shifted. 

There was never any grand conversation, never any moment of unloading - just gentle touches and reminders, nudges that Tony had been born to a woman named Felicia, a woman Peter had dated long ago. 

A woman who had died from a cancer that Peter still couldn’t make sense of, a nagging thought in the back of his mind that he hadn’t heard about her funeral - even if he knew that he and Felicia hadn’t been that close to begin with.

But whatever doubts Peter had, he kept to himself - solely focused on making sure that no matter what questions Tony had, what fears arose - that Tony knew the truth.

He was loved. He was safe. Michelle and Peter loved him completely. 

But as he walked up behind his son, closing the basement door behind him - Peter remembered the first time Tony had questioned not his love for them, but of the truth of what Felicia had done. 

SEVEN YEARS AGO

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” Peter looked up from his desk, shoulders tensing at the look on Tony’s face.

He could tell there was a question brewing behind those brown eyes, a serious one from the way Tony wrung his hands together. 

Tony was so much like Peter, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders when he had no business doing so. Eight years old and Peter wondered how a child so young could look so tortured. 

Peter sat back in his chair - looking over his son in concern.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?”

Tony bites his lip, wrangles his hands together before sighing, coming over to where Peter was. 

“I’m… I was just thinking….”

“Careful, kid. Thinking is what gets you grounded.” Tony laughs half-heartedly, glancing away, Peter’s eyebrows furrowing.

“Anthony.” Tony brings his head up, biting his lip again.

“I’m… I was just wondering, about my mom. Not mom mom, but you know. The other one. The one… who gave birth to me.”

Peter freezes, wishing that Michelle hadn’t stepped out to the gym. She was so much better at this than he was, a gentleness that Peter had only seen glimpses of when they were young but had only magnified as they grew older. 

But Michelle wasn’t due to come back for at least an hour, and Tony was here - brown eyes big and searching Peter’s.

Peter lets out a low exhale, motioning for Tony to come closer to him. Tony does, leaning against the desk. He was eight now, much too old for cuddling in his own words but Peter knew that this kind of conversation would need more than words to ease any wounds. 

“What’d you want to know, kid?”

Tony looks back down to his hands, Peter’s heart breaking. 

He thought he and Michelle had done all that they could to make Tony feel loved, safe and protected. To let Tony know that his mother loved him, that Michelle could never replace her - and never wanted to. 

But Peter knew as best as anyone what it was like to live in the shadow of your parents being gone, to wrestle with parental figures who you didn’t come from - yet you knew they loved you completely. 

Peter’s own parents had died when he hadn’t been much older than Tony was, vividly remembering the day he moved in with Ben and May. They could never replace them, but they didn’t have to - filling a place in Peter’s heart that no one else could. 

It was a difficult thing to try and comprehend - to love someone as a parent while still missing the ones who you had. But Peter’s heart broke at the torment Tony was clearly going through, seeing the guilt in his face of missing someone he’d never had the chance to meet - knowing how much Tony loved Michelle. 

You’re really too much like me, kid.

“I just, I mean, did she-- why didn’t she tell you about me? You know, before… ” Tony trails off, Peter’s shoulders slumping. 

“Oh kid.” He can see the tears welling up in Tony’s eyes, hands outstretched to him as Tony rushes forward, burrowing his head into Peter’s chest. 

“I don’t understand. I just don’t understand why she didn’t tell you. She died and she just, she left me.” Peter closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around his son.

How could he try and explain the unexplainable mystery that was Felicia? How could Peter try and explain that whirlwind of their romance, the foolish mistake that had led to the greatest thing in Peter’s life?

How could he try and explain to Tony that Peter still wrestled with those same questions, how years and years later he was still filled with a mix of frustrated and hurt and understanding for why Felicia had kept the biggest secret of his life from him - only telling him after she’d passed on from a quick and brutal bout of cancer - a death and a disappearance from the world that still didn’t make sense to Peter.

Sometimes Peter wondered had she hadn’t died, if Felicia would’ve ever told him the truth at all.

But Peter couldn’t share that with Tony - not now, maybe not ever.

All he really could do is be thankful - that no matter the circumstances, no matter the challenges and problems that they still faced - that he had Tony. 

“I don’t know, Tony. I don’t know.” He whispers to son, comforting him as best that he could.

Peter didn’t have all the answers, knew enough about parenting that he never would. All Peter could do - could hope, pray, believe - is that Tony knew that he was loved.

That it didn’t matter to Peter that he hadn’t been there for his birth, that he didn’t know his son had even existed until he was almost a year old.

Holding Tony tight in his arms, feeling Tony lean into the embrace, Peter thought to himself that he could only try and spend the rest of his life showing Tony how much he loved him, would protect him, would hold him for as long as he could. 

Peter hadn’t been there for the beginning.

But Peter made a promise to himself that he’d be there for Tony until the end. 

Chapter Text

 So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
'Cause oh that gave me such a fright
But I will hold as long as you like
Just promise me we'll be alright

Peter smiled, watching Michelle and Tony go back and forth. The morning light illuminated the kitchen, chasing away the shadows and darkness that had marked Tony’s features before. But now, hearing his son’s laughter fill the kitchen - Peter was thankful in more ways than one that they both had Michelle. 

“Mom, did you get the—”

“Right here.” Michelle smiles, handing him the permission slip that Tony had undoubtedly been asking for, her hand hand ruffling through his hair as Tony squawked. 

“Mom! Stop!” Peter snickered, Tony shooting him a withering look. 

“Dad, you’re supposed to be on my side.” Peter shrugs, winking as he caught Michelle’s eye. “I don’t know what to tell you, kid. You’re setting yourself up for failure if you try and argue against Michelle Jones-Parker.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, the look of it making Peter smile and Michelle laugh.

“Don’t you cut your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.” Tony said. Peter snickered, only to stop and raise his hands when Michelle looks back at him, finger raised.

“You’re a bad example, Peter Parker.” 

“Sorry, my bad.” 

It’s Tony’s turn to laugh, Michelle smiling warmly at the two of them as she poured her coffee in her to-go mug. 

“Alright, I’m off. Happy birthday, kid. Love you.” She brought a hand to Tony’s face, holding him in place while she kissed his cheek, Peter holding back another laugh as he squirmed.

“Mom!” Michelle doesn’t seem to care, squeezing his cheek once more. She walks to Peter and kisses him soundly on the lips before saying, “Bye. Love you.”

“Love you.” Peter watches after her as she walked out of the kitchen, his eyes going back to meet Tony who was looking back at him expectantly. The joy on his face was gone, Peter getting the distinct impression that now that Michelle had left - his mind had gone back to where Peter had found him.

It’s something he promised Tony he wouldn’t share with her but for as much as he loved Tony, this wasn’t something he would be able to keep a secret from Michelle for long. 

He’d find a way to talk to her about it later. Until then, Peter could hardly believe that the kid he hadn’t even realized when he was born was someone Peter couldn’t imagine his life without. 

Tony was fifteen - the same age Peter had been when he became Spider-Man. He couldn’t imagine that same burden on Tony’s shoulders and would give anything to make sure that nothing like it ever would be. 

“Fifteen. How’s it feel?”

Tony looks up at Peter, a thousand emotions running behind those brown eyes before his face turns into a grin, Peter’s heart slightly breaking that even if he didn’t inherit his spider powers, that Tony already knew how to put on a mask.

“Feels great, old man.” Tony jokes, shrugging as he grabs his backpack. “Feels like a good age to get tickets for the Osborn Expo.”

Peter sighs, going to stand as Tony puts his backpack on. “We talked about this, Tony. Maybe next year—“

“Next year, it’ll be too late to compete in his Young Scientist competition. I have to be a sophomore or younger to be eligible. Come on dad, please.”

Peter bites his lip, debating whether or not he should tell Tony the truth. He and Michelle had been saving to buy him tickets for weeks, something he knew would make things tight for them in the next few months.

But Tony was a good kid. And for as smart as he was, even in the advanced science school that he was in, Peter knew that Tony was feeling anxious to do more. 

The fiddling with his toys only magnified as he got older, messing with their electronics and creating gadgets that even surprised Peter for how advanced they were. He shouldn’t have been - Peter should’ve expected that his son would be just as intelligent as he was at that age, thinking back to the days when he would scrounge around in dumpsters for web shooter parts - creating his web fluid in chemistry class and creating his own suit out of material he found on the street. 

It was foolish and naive but Peter survived - wondering how the hell he did sometimes. Tony had the same look on his face sometimes, a desire to do something for the world - something that made Peter grateful that he was limited in being “only” human though wondering if that would really limit Tony from putting himself in danger eventually. 

Peter had his own reservations about Oscorp, remembering his ill-fated trip there that had changed him in more ways than one. But Harry seemed different than his father, just as brilliant if not more compassionate - reaching out to him on more than one occasion about joining his laboratories. 

Of all the people that Tony could admire and want to learn under, Peter figured he could’ve chosen worse. But he also knew Michelle would kill him if he spoiled the surprise without her, shrugging his shoulders as he ruffled Tony’s hair just as she had before - causing Tony to whine again.

“Dad, stop!”

“We’ll talk about it after school, kay?”

Tony’s shoulder’s slump as if Peter had told him no, almost making Peter want to give in and share the surprise. But Michelle had been insistent and Peter meant what he had said earlier - it was a lesson in futility to ever try and argue against Michelle.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” Tony grumbles, Peter bringing him into a hug anyway. Tony resists for a second before wrapping his arms around Peter. He smiled as he brought his head down to his son’s, wishing that time would slow down. 

“You’re squishing me.” 

“Sorry kid, I can’t help it.” Tony looks up, Peter smiling as he looked down on him. 

“Just wish time would slow down.” 

“It’s coming along nicely, Peter.”

Peter nods, waiting for Otto as the man carefully moved the slides he was viewing, adjusting the microscope to get a better look.

“I’m glad you think so. The proteins aren’t binding as well as they should but—“

“That’s something we can save for the patent application.” Otto smiles, looking back at Peter who smiled back. “For now, this is exactly what we need.”

“You sure you don’t to collaborate on this? I got a contact in Osborn’s lab that will--”

“No.” Otto’s shift in demeanor in sharp, enough for the hairs on the back of Peter’s hair to raise, Otto composing himself even as Peter watches him carefully. “No, it’s--we’re doing novel work here, Peter. We want to be sure we keep it contained, until it’s fully tested.”

“I understand.” Peter says, still eyeing him carefully as Otto stands - Peter moving out of the way as he continues. “I just think that it’ll be better in the long run if we bring more people into this. I mean, this could be big, Dr. Octavius. Cure cancer kind of big.” 

Otto waves him off, Peter following after him as he makes his way to his own lab bench. “I’ve always been a fan of your dramatics, Peter but--”

“I’m just saying, Dr. Octavius. If we can combine what we have with the technology and resources that Osborn has then--”

“We’re not working with Osborn!” He yells, Peter freezing - eyebrows furrowing as he studies Otto. He seems just as surprised by his outburst as Peter does, quickly composing himself. 

“Sorry, I’m--I’m sorry. I’ve… I’ve not been feeling myself lately.” 

Peter purses his lips, keeping quiet. After Tony, Peter decided to make good use of his master’s degree - quitting his job at the Bugle and working more in his field. The life of a scientist wasn’t conducive to being Spider-Man, not nearly as much as being a freelance photographer - but it was consistent, stable in a way that Peter needed it to be after he became a father seemingly overnight. 

He enjoyed the work, finally putting his degree to good use. Despite Harry’s generous offers, Peter was glad that he’d finally settled into a good groove with Otto Octavius - a brilliant, if a little eccentric man that seemed committed to solving the big issues, despite the odds. His company wasn’t nearly as big as Osborn’s - no one really could compare - but it was enough for a salary that Peter could depend on and to feel good about the impact that he was making as Peter Parker. 

But Otto’s mood and attitude had shifted a lot in the past few months, giving Peter pause - wondering what could have changed the man who used to be so quiet and soft-spoken that Peter wondered if he’d ever raised his voice. He was close to Otto, as much as anyone could be with a boss that you worked well with - but Peter had enough years of experience to know that he couldn’t approach the issue without having some idea of what was wrong to begin with. 

“It’s okay.” Peter finally says, “We all have bad days.” 

Otto looks at him, his face shifting into a softer smile - looking more like the man Peter knew. “But I gather today isn’t one of those for you. It’s your son’s birthday today, isn’t it? Fourteen?”

“Fifteen.” Peter smiles, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I, Mr. Parker. You barely look older than a teenager sometimes, much less be old enough to have one.”

Peter laughs. “Tell that to my back pain, Dr. Octavius. I look young but trust me,” Peter pantomimes cracking his back, making Otto smile. “My back tells another story.” 

“If we could all have your genetics, Parker, the world would be a much healthier place.” 

Something itches in the back of Peter’s neck, but he dismisses it, laughing as he says, “But then everyone would be just as stressed and sleep-deprived as I am and trust me,” Peter smiles, seeing the glint of something in Ottos’ eyes, “No one wants to be me.”

The rest of the work day passes by quickly for Peter, fingers tapping along his desk as he texted Michelle. He’d told her over lunch where he had found Tony this morning, knowing that with the party this afternoon that they wouldn’t get much of a chance to talk until late in the night. 

Peter hated the idea of betraying Tony’s trust but as any parent could say - there were no secrets between partners. 

And Michelle was his partner - in every single way. 

The phone buzzes, Peter glancing at it to read her message only to see that she was calling, snapping a glove off to answer it. 

“Hey.”

“Hi. I got off work early so I could get the cake from Delmar’s. That old man gets crazier by the day, you know that?”

Peter laughs, rolling his chair back. “I know, but you know how much Tony misses him. Moving was good for us but it’ll be a nice surprise, having a cake from Delmar’s waiting for him.”

“You still don’t think the party’s too cheesy? He’s fifteen, Pete, not five.” 

Peter puts the phone between his shoulder and his head, taking his other glove off before going to the handwashing station. 

He starts to rinse them, shrugging only to remember that Michelle couldn’t see it. “He could’ve told us he didn’t want it. You know as well as I do that Tony doesn’t have a problem with letting his voice be heard.”

He hears Michelle laugh through the phone, smiling at the sound as he finishes washing his hands - drying them before going to hold the phone by his ear. 

“Oh trust me, that’s not something I’ll ever forget.”

They can laugh at the memory now, Peter knowing her mind was going the same place his was - to the first time Tony had ever been seriously sick. It’d been only a month into living with the two of them, when they were still in that old and small apartment. Tony had cried for hours, to the point where Peter was panicking and Michelle was completely flustered - something Peter had never expected to ever see. 

It’d been an ear infection, something they’d only found out after a hurried trip to the emergency room - the bill something that Peter didn’t regret paying, even if it cut into their meager savings. For all the problems that he faced as Spider-Man, that night was the first time that Peter reasoned that he ever truly felt fear - wondering that if he’d found out he had a son only for him to lose him, panicking at seeing Tony’s screams turn into whimpers, involuntarily shuddering at the memory of how still and listless he’d been into the night. 

Tony had been fine, after some antibiotics and rest - but the terror that had gripped Peter even then was a feeling he was still intimately aware of, something that May had tried to tell him would never go away. 

A feeling that he would do anything to protect Tony, would have given anything to take that pain away from him. It’s something that Peter still feels, knowing that even if he was fifteen - that Peter would forever see Tony as the small, wide-eyed child he’d been the first time he’d ever laid eyes on him. 

“You still there?
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” Peter replies, glancing at the clock. “I can head out now, I’ll make up the time later. Otto doesn’t mind.”

“You have a much kinder boss than I do, Pete.” Michelle says through the phone, Peter going to grab his coat. “I’ll be home in fifteen, let me know when you leave. Don’t swing and text.”

Peter laughs, rolling his eyes even as he shrugs his coat on. “You act like we’re still teenagers, MJ. I’m always careful.”

“You’re always an idiot is what you are.” Michelle says, even if Peter can hear the smile through the phone. He loved her, had loved her since he was sixteen - would always love her, until he took his last breath. 

“Love you. See you soon.”

“Love you too.” 

The party - if it could really be called that - is a hit. Peter wondered if Michelle was right, if the idea of a birthday party at home with his parents was really too cheesy for him, knowing that Tony was far more popular than Peter had ever been when he was his age. 

It was something that baffled him and yet was grateful for - that even if Tony was like him in so many ways, that he hadn’t inherited his social awkwardness. Tony was smarter than most of the kids in his gifted school, yet seemed to make friends anywhere he went - and always had. Yet despite this, he’d insisted that the only people he wanted for his birthday party were James and Virginia. 

He could relate, he’d only hung out with Ned and Michelle when he was Tony’s age - but for as much as he loved the two of them, Peter hadn’t been nearly as well-liked as Tony was. Tony had a confidence about him, a certainty about himself and his place in the world that Peter couldn’t have dreamed of having at his age - one that Peter wondered on more than one occasion where he got it from. 

A part of him - a quiet one - wondered if this was some innate quality of Felicia’s, remembering the fire and passion of their summer fling and how unashamedly she approached life. The more rational part of him argued that even if it could be attributed to some nascent genetic component - that in reality, Tony had something that Peter never did. 

Tony had stability - had never known loss in the same way that Peter had. Peter didn’t remember much of his own parents, but vividly remembered the day both Ben and May died - Ben from his own carelessness at fifteen and May many years later, when Tony had still been in elementary school. May had given him a home filled with as much love as possible, one that he tried so hard to emulate with Michelle for Tony.

But the losses in Peter’s life was a burden that he still carried, something that still marked him in a way that had never marked Tony - something Peter hopes never would. 

He pushes those thoughts out of his head as he watches Tony, Michelle sidling up to him as they watched him talk with Virginia. 

“You think he’s going to finally ask her out?”

“My bet’s on her making the move.” Michelle nudges him with her elbow, winking. “Parker men have a habit of waiting around too long.” 

“Hey,” Peter laughs, bringing a hand around her as Michelle leans into him, “I was absolutely going to ask you out.” Peter tilts his head. “Eventually.”

She laughs, putting her head on his shoulder as he holds her closer. “You think we should tell him about the Osborn Expo now or later?”

Peter purses his lips, seeing the way his son’s eyes lit up as he talked with Virginia - trying to remember the reason why Tony called her Pepper, some inside joke that neither he nor Michelle had been privy to. It was a look that Peter recognized well, remembering what it was like to be his age, flirting with Michelle. 

As excited as Tony would be about the Expo, Peter knew it could wait.

“Nah, we’ll tell him when his friends are gone. Speaking of, where’s James?” 

“Harpy had some kind of surprise for him, James went to help bring it in.” Michelle offered.

Peter laughs. “I think he calls him Happy , not Harpy, babe.”

“Happy, Harpy, whatever, I can’t keep up with his weird nicknames.” Michelle lifts her head up, smiling at Peter. 

“He’s your kid, alright.”

Peter moves so that he’s standing behind her, nestling his chin on her shoulder - kissing her before saying, “He’s our kid.” 

Tony was predictably excited, over the moon if not a little annoyed that he and Michelle had kept the tickets a secret from him. 

“Why the hell did you keep this a secret from me?”

“Tony.” 

“Sorry, just,” Tony shakes his head excitedly, smiling at the both of them. “You’re not cool parents in the slightest but this?” He brings the tickets up, “This bumps you up to being like, twelve percent cooler.”

“You hear that babe? Twelve percent cooler.” Michelle gasps, putting a hand to her chest even as Tony groans. 

“Mom--”

“No, I’m having a moment. I am twelve percent cooler than I was before. Give me a second to bask in this new phase of life I’m in.” Peter laughs even as Tony rolls his eyes again. 

“Why are you both so weird?”

“Ask yourself, kid. If we’re your parents and you think we’re weird, what does that make you?”

Tony thinks for a moment, Peter seeing the smirk on his face. “Adopted.”

“You little shit.” 

Peter had laughed with Tony at the time, Michelle had too - but later in bed, just before Peter was drifting off to sleep, he heard Michelle’s voice ring out. 

“Do you think we made a mistake?”

“Hmm?” Peter asks, feeling his tenuous grasp on what was real and was a dream fading as he held her in his arms. 

“Not telling Tony more about Felicia. Not trying to find out more about her. Did we… did we make a mistake?”

Peter’s eyes snap open, immediately feeling awake even as he tried to school his own emotions - keeping his grip on Michelle firm even as she glanced up to him.

He can see the vulnerability in her eyes but also the question, Peter’s mind going back to Tony’s joke from before. Michelle hadn’t officially adopted him, there really hadn’t been any need to with Felicia dead and Peter marrying her. But it was something they had talked about over the years, the two of them - just as they had also talked about having more kids. 

It was something they had wanted - in another life. But the way Tony had come into their lives, the quick adjustment and complicated way that he’d arrived had made talks of having any other kids get pushed to the back burner over the years.

When Peter had pushed the question again further, Michelle had been resistant - her sole focus on Tony and how that would make him feel, remembering what her older sister had felt after Michelle had been born. Peter knew that had led to some unresolved tension - her older sister's adoption being a point of contention between them, the resentment Michelle had felt from her even if Peter knew her parents had done their best to mediate those problems.

It's something that Peter knew they could figure out too, but in the end - he trusted her.

Michelle was Tony’s mother in every way that mattered, but Michelle knew what that was like - to grow up with a sibling who didn’t share both of your birth parents, and even if Michelle and her sister had a good relationship now - it wasn’t something she wanted to risk with Tony. 

Peter hadn’t pushed it, knowing Tony was a handful enough - but it’s that reminder that caused his heart to break, wondering how Michelle could still question whether or not any choice that they had made about Tony was somehow the wrong one. 

They weren’t perfect parents - no one ever was. But Peter knew that he and Michelle had tried their hardest to create a good life for Tony, one that he refused to allow Michelle to second-guess. 

“No. I don’t.”

“That’s the third time he’s gone down to the basement this month, Pete. He’s a teenager, he’s curious. I’m honestly surprised it took him this long to want to push to know more about her.” Michelle whispers, Peter hearing the steadiness of her voice. 

Michelle was practical, she always had been - Peter thinking to himself that even if Tony wasn’t blood related to her, that he’d inherited some of her best qualities anyway. 

Tony was a fixer, a doer - seeing problems and doing his best to figure out a solution for them. If his misguided sense of responsibility to use his creations came from Peter, his desire to change things in the first place was wholly a result of Michelle. 

“We can talk to him together, if you think it’s best. But you’re his mom, MJ. You always will be.”

“I know.” She says, Peter only half-believing her even as she continued. “But he’s curious. And as much as I know he loves me, I know he wants to know more about Felicia. And I don’t think it’s something he’s going to want to talk to me about.” 

She turns to face him, Peter’s eyes adjusting in the darkness to see her looking at him. “Will you talk to him?”

Peter brings a hand to her face, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb. “‘Course, MJ.” 

Michelle searches his face for a moment before finding whatever it was she was looking for, nodding her head as she leaned forward to kiss him. Peter brings her closer to him, Michelle kissing him softly again before saying, “We raised a good kid, Pete.”

Peter smiles, holding Michelle tight.

He’ll have to figure out a way to talk to Tony, knowing that Michelle was right - even if Peter wondered how the hell he’d even begin to start that conversation. But bringing her even closer to him, Peter pushes it away for the time being - choosing to live completely in the moment, reveling in the day that his son was born and holding the love of his life in his arms. 

Peter closes his eyes, feeling Michelle’s own arms wrap around his waist. 

“Yeah, we really did.” He finally answers, pressing a kid down to her forehead before he sighs, hearing both Michelle’s and Tony’s heartbeats - the soft and steady rhythm lulling Peter off to sleep.

Chapter Text

So lead me back 

Turn south from that place

And close my eyes from my recent disgrace

'Cause you know my call

We'll share my all

Now children come and they will hear me roar

Peter means to have the conversation with Tony, about Felicia and about his life - even if he can’t quite figure out how to bring it up. But then time starts to get away from him.

And Otto starts to act… stranger. 

It had been a sneaking suspicion at first, an idea that there was something else going on. Something that Peter couldn’t quite figure out. 

The research was going well, better than either of them had expected. Otto has always been a little eccentric and hyper focused - almost manic in his attention to detail.

But now it seemed as if he had a keen interest in Peter beyond the project, asking him questions about Michelle and of Tony - questions that Peter obliges him with even if he starts to wonder what the purpose of them is.

His senses ring - growing louder and louder as the weeks pass, but Peter dismisses it. Thinking that maybe they were going haywire as he got older.

Later - in the fleeting moments before his life ended - Peter would regret that, wish that he had listened sooner. Wished that he hadn’t ignored the signs.

But he didn’t. 

“Dad. Dad. Dad.”

Peter laughed, following after Tony as he rushed forward - seeing the how wide-eyed he looked as he gaped at the exhibit. For being fifteen, the excitable way he walked, fingers tapping against his side and almost vibrating with excitement, it reminded Peter that Tony was still young - reminiscent of what Peter had been like when he was a teenager. 

“Do you see this? Telepathically linked gorillas, communicating their thoughts and actions for us to understand? I mean come on, dad. Tell me this wasn’t a good idea.”

“This wasn’t a good idea.” Peter shrugs, smirking at how visibly Tony rolls his eyes - leaning down on the balcony edge as they examined the exhibit. 

“You’re the worst.” Tony sighed, shaking his head as Peter laughed again. 

“Five minutes ago you said I was the best dad on the planet.” 

“Five minutes ago I was young and stupid. I’ve grown since then. Seen more of the world.” Tony remarked, Peter winking at him.

“Gorillas who talk about bananas are the world?”

Tony gives him a look, before deadpanning. “ Telepathically linked, gorillas .”

Peter went to ruffle Tony’s hair, Tony squawking at the gesture as he always did until he turned around, completely enraptured by some other exhibit. 

The Expo was interesting to Peter in a lot of ways - a mix of a conference and a showcase, where people funded by the Osborn grants had the chance to show off the innovations they had been working on. 

Whatever experimentation that Norman had previously done, resulting in the bite that gave Peter powers years and years ago - Harry was nothing like him, a more forward thinking man that looked to the future and saw possibilities rather than things that the world needed to fear. 

Harry had tried unsuccessfully for years to get Peter to join his company, a fact that no doubt fueled the paranoia that Octavius had about Peter visiting the Expo when he’d mentioned it. 

Peter scratched the back of his neck, even the thought of Octavius sending off a lingering warning that he just attributes to the amount of sensory overload happening around him. He had to figure out what was going on with him, the brilliant man that Peter had committed to working with years ago becoming increasingly more difficult to work with in ways that Peter hadn’t anticipated. 

Tony brings him out of his thoughts as he always does, rushing back to Peter with such exuberance that it makes him laugh. 

“Dad. Dad. Dad.”

“Tony, calm down.” Peter laughs harder, the glee on Tony’s face so overwhelming as he says, “I can’t. I can’t , dad. This is the coolest thing I’ve ever been to. Did you know that—“

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Peter turns to hear the familiar voice, the whispers around them getting louder as Peter smiles and Tony’s face breaks out somehow into an even larger grin.

“Harry. Good to see you, man.” Peter extends a hand out, Harry shaking it firmly before turning to Tony.

“This can’t be Tony? Damn, Pete we’re getting old.” 

Tony’s eyes almost bug out before reverting towards a more muted expression, the energy that Peter just saw being staved down as his son straightens his shoulders and extends his own hand out.”

“Hello Mr. Osborn, it’s nice to see you again.” 

Peter holds back a laugh as Harry flicks his eyes towards Tony before returning it, marveling at how quickly Tony could switch gears from the excited fifteen-year-old to someone completely different - as if Peter was getting glimpses of who Tony would be as an adult.

Tony had always been mature for his age, a product of his precociousness and intelligence. But it still surprised Peter to see it in action, wrestling with the idea that Tony was growing up and that, as Harry said, they were getting old.

“Nice to see you too, Mr. Parker.” Harry grins, shaking Tony’s hand swiftly before turning to Peter. “I hear your son is interested in the Young Scientist’s program.”

Before Peter can answer, Tony pushes forward - straightening his shoulders again as he said, “I am, Mr. Osborn. I think I could be an excellent addition to your company and if given the chance, would be—“

“I think Harry’s got enough on his plate, kid.” Peter interjects, catching Tony’s steely gaze as Harry laughs.

“Never enough not to hear about something brilliant. You’ll have to submit your stuff like everyone else but,” he nods towards Peter, “if your dad doesn’t mind, I’d love to hear more about what it is you’re interested in. The winner isn’t just up to me and I can’t play favorites.” 

Harry winks towards Tony like he’s in on a secret, Peter watching as he continues. “But we can always work something out. Young Scientist winner or not, I’m always looking for new talent for the intern pool.”

Tony immediately turns to Peter, a mixture of pleading and determination written all over his face. Peter sighs, glancing from him to Harry. 

Harry knew what he was doing - a not so subtle push for Peter to reconsider his offers about working more with his company, knowing him by now that he wasn’t anything like his father.

It was still a dirty move to use his son, one that Peter doesn’t appreciate in the slightest. But the look in Tony’s eyes convinced him, nodding his head slightly as Tony turns back to Harry - the excitability he had before returning in full force.

“I have so many ideas, Mr. Osborn. You’re not going to regret this.”

Harry puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, glancing behind to Peter as he smiles.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“It sounds like an excellent opportunity for him, Pete.” Michelle whispers, turning down the bed as Peter comes in from the bathroom - brushing his teeth as he leans against the doorway.

“I know.” He says, the words garbled from the toothpaste in his mouth. “It’s just gonna give Harry,” Peter leans back into the bathroom to spit in the sink before saying, “it’s gonna give him the wrong impression.”

“That you believe in your son and want the best for him?” Michelle asks, Peter snickering before rinsing his mouth out again, putting the toothbrush in and waking back into the bedroom.

“That this is somehow a concession, that I’ll consider switching to Oscorp.” He replies, going over to his side of the bed and slipping in under the covers. 

Michelle’s already underneath them, bracing her head on her hand as she looks back at him - Peter sighing as he rolls over to look at her. She studies him for a moment before saying, “You were already saying that Otto’s been… eccentric lately. More so than usual. Would a career change be such a bad idea?”

Peter puts an arm behind his head, not meeting her gaze while he thinks.

She wasn’t wrong - the two weeks that had passed since they’d gone to the Expo only increasing Otto’s paranoia - in a way that not only set of Peter’s spider-senses but his regular ones, baffled why the man was acting the way that he was.

As if Peter was going to betray him, something that he can’t make sense of. 

Harry had made good on his promise, listening to Tony at the Expo. While he’d been in second place for the Young Scientist competition, some Wakandan transfer student winning the top prize, Harry and his team had reached out to Peter personally about Tony applying for the intern program - an opportunity for him to gain the kind of lab experience he wanted and helping his future college applications in a way that neither Peter nor Michelle could really afford.

It didn’t escape Peter either, how much moving to Oscorp would help them - for Tony in the immediate future but also financially, sighing again as he thought of how he was still paying off his student loans, something he didn’t want Tony to limit himself.

He liked the work he did with Octavius, even with the man’s oddities seemingly growing as time went on. And even if Harry seemed reasonable and would likely allow Peter to work on teams that were similar, Peter wouldn’t be his own boss - not at first, subject to the whims and interests of a board of trustees.

It nagged at Peter, his pride conflicting with his desire to want to give Tony the best that he could. Peter pushes it away for now, even if he got the sense that there was a timer running out on his decision - one that would only make sense in hindsight, the kind of hindsight he wouldn’t get to have.

“We can talk about it more after your trip.” Peter finally replies, pushing a curl back as she smiles. “Why do you have to go again?”

Michelle smirks before saying, “The civil war in Sokovia is heating up. Johnson wants eyes on the ground.”

Peter leans forward, bringing a hand to her waist as she moves closer to him. “But why do they have to be your eyes?” 

Michelle rolls her eyes, inches away from his face, Peter’s hands mindlessly tracing along her back. “We talked about this, Pete. This is good, for me. For us.”

“I know.” He says, his eyes searching her face. “I’m just gonna miss you.”

“I’ll be gone a week, you won’t even notice.” 

Peter snorts, rolling his eyes as she leans in to kiss him. “I doubt that.” He says when she leans back, holding her closer as her own eyes close.

Michelle usually hated cuddling, Peter’s mutation causing his body temperature to skyrocket. But she must miss him already, anticipating what was to come even if Peter would later think she couldn’t have known, allowing him to hold her closer - Peter burying his head into her hair as she brings an arm around him, slipping a leg between is until they’re intertwined.

“I love you.” Peter murmurs into her hair, Michelle sighing as she says, “I know.”

He laughs, leaning back with a mischievous grin on his face. “What time’s your flight again?”

“Peter, you’re awful about waking up on time. Go to sleep.” She says, eyes still closed as Peter presses a kiss to her forehead.

“But I miss you already.” He whispers into her hair, kissing alongside her cheek and down to her neck. 

“Peter…”

“You can sleep on the plane.” He says, voice low his kisses become more intentional, knowing he’s won when her hand snakes along his back.

“I hate you.” He laughs into her neck, hearing her contented sigh as he continues to leave open-mouth kisses on her neck, whispering again. 

“You’re going to miss me.” 

Michelle gives something like a snort, only for it to be cut off when his hands begin to wander.

Peter didn’t think of what he was saying at the time, too focused on his wife and the idea of how long a week would feel without her by his side.

He didn’t realize at the time how true that would be.

Or how Michelle would later cherish the memory of what would end up being their last night together. 

“Tony, it’s time to go.” Peter yells, frowning down on his phone screen.

It’s a news alert, the third time this week that someone had been robbed - not being able to bring himself to regret staying home with Michelle and Tony on her last night before she left, but anticipating that the next week would give him to focus more on the problem at hand.

He’d heard whispers of something happening in the city, of a masked vigilante that was stealing artifacts from supposedly highly protected places. 

It didn’t escape Peter that all the places that this vigilante was stealing from were linked to crime families, something nagging at him in the back of his mind that there was something that he was missing. 

But he pushed it away for now, hearing Tony come down the stairs and holding back a yawn.

“Mom left?” Tony asked, Peter nodding as he pours coffee into a to-go mug. 

She’d been running late, just as she had told Peter she would but in the end, neither of them seemed to mind. 

Michelle was right, the trip would be good - for her career, for their respective incomes, the out of town reporting assignments that she was taking more of because Tony was older paying more than her regular salary.

Peter poured some creamer in his coffee, a pang shooting through him at the idea that for as much as he was being selfish about his own career that Michelle didn’t think twice about it - the prospect of advancing pushing her forward motivating her but also thinking ahead, the trips that separated them giving each other more of a financial cushion. 

It was selfish of him, to hold onto his role with Otto - even if the freedom that he had in doing his work with him also gave him flexibility with Spider-Man duties, Tony rushing past him reminding him of what he needed to check out tonight.

“Hey kiddo, I’m gonna be late tonight. You can have the lasagna for dinner or mom left some cash for pizza if you—“

“I’m not twelve, dad.” Tony said, Peter catching the annoyed roll of his eyes. “I can feed myself when I get home from school.”

Peter laughs. “I know, I just want to be sure—“

“That I’m safe. I’m fine, dad promise.” Tony grins, grabbing a protein bar out of the pantry before saying, “I was thinking of heading over to Happy’s anyway, after school.” 

There’s nothing in his tone to indicate anything abnormal and yet something twinges in Peter’s heart all the same, noting how calm Tony was trying to be - registering the stutter of his heart. 

Tony was hiding something, but what - Peter couldn’t decipher. 

He bites his lip, debating whether he should press on it only for his phone to start buzzing - a notification from Otto that he had to get to the office immediately.

“Okay well,” Peter says, glancing at the screen before putting it away, the ringing of his senses starting to flare up as he says, “Just text me and let me you’re okay alright?”

“ Yes , dad.” Tony replies again, this time walking towards the door ahead of him.

“Hey whoa, wait. You forgetting something?”

Tony looks back and raises an eyebrow, the look of it making Peter want to laugh as he asks, “What?”

“A hug for your old man?”

Tony sighs, annoyed but there’s something that pushes Peter forward - a nudging that tells him this is important, a feeling that he can’t explain though Tony starts to protest.

“Dad, come on. I’m gonna be late—“

But Peter ignores it, rushing forward and bringing Tony into a tight hug - one that he fights for a second before melting into it, bringing his arms around Peter’s waist.

“I love you, Tony. You know that right?” Peter murmurs into his hair, something constricting in his chest - contributing it to the reminder that Tony was getting older and not to the low sense of danger creeping in the back of his mind.

“Of course you do, old man.” Tony scoffs only for Peter to hold him tighter.

“Kid.” It’s said quietly, enough that Tony seems to register that this isn’t the moment for teasing - a feeling that Peter can’t explain. 

“I love you too, dad.”

Tony hugs him tighter too, feeling the moment stretch on for what feels like infinity only for him to loosen when Peter’s phone goes off again, bringing him out of the embrace and putting his hands on Tony’s shoulders.

“I’ll see you tonight alright? Don’t be out too late.”

Tony smiles, Peter somehow seeing the little face he’d first laid eyes on all those years ago and the man that Tony would eventually become as he does.

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.” Tony smirks, Peter finally letting him go as he walks to the door.

Peter needs to go to work, his phone buzzing again but he’s frozen - watching as Tony turns around and turns his head back, smiling once more.

“Love you.” Tony leaves, closing the door behind him - the brownstone feeling emptier when he does, the feeling he can’t explain churning in Peter’s gut as he does.

In his final moments, Peter would run through that morning over - wondering what he’d missed. Wishing that he could go back, to kiss Michelle longer and to hold Tony tighter.

But he didn’t know that yet - just letting the air out his lungs as he looked around their home, quiet and alone - the last time he would ever be there, though none of them had known it. 

Peter’s phone buzzes once more, going to grab his coffee and back towards the door before stopping - seeing a picture of the three of them before he leaves.

Peter smiles, tightens the grip on his coffee and his keys. 

“Love you too.”

Chapter Text

But hold me still

bury my heart on the cold.

“Come on, man.”

Rhodey just rolled his eyes, slamming his locker shut as he says, “Not everything’s a damn conspiracy, Tony.” 

Tony is quick to shake his head, hurriedly following after his best friend who was already moving down the hall towards their next class.

“This is different, Rhodey. I think she’s alive .”

“Who’s alive?” Pepper asks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere - Tony stopping in place as she smiles at the two of them, Rhodey scoffing as he says, “Nothing Pep, just another one of Tony’s crazy ideas.”

Pepper smiles at the two of them, eyes narrowing as she lands back on Tony. “The kind of crazy ideas that get the chem lab blown up?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “That was one time, Potts. Let it go.”

“Not a chance, Parker,” Pepper smiles, the fluorescent lighting still somehow making her red hair shine, “If your dad hadn’t donated that lab equipment, I think they would’ve kicked you out.”

“Says you . I was on the brink of a brilliant discovery that would’ve—“

“Can you two flirt some other time?” Rhodey says with a smirk, Pepper turning as red as her hair and Tony shooting him a death glare as Rhodey continues, “We’re gonna be late to class.”

Pepper just shoots Tony a small smile before making her way down the hallway, Tony waiting till she’s just enough out of earshot before punching Rhodey in the arm.

“What the hell man?” 

“What?” He asks, looking a mixture of annoyed and exasperated as he says, “It’s not my fault that you two have been dancing around asking each other out for months now.”

Tony glares at Rhodey, going to say something more only for Happy to walk up - nodding towards where their next class was.

“We ditching today?”

“No.”

“Yes.” 

Rhodey and Tony both answer at the same time, Tony immediately sending Rhodey a pleading look that his best friend immediately tries to shut down.

“No. No . I’m not doing this with you, Tones.”

“Did you even read --” Tony begins, only for Rhodey to put a hand up as he rolled his eyes. 

“I’m telling you, man. If you want to know anything, just ask your dad. Or hell, your mom,” Rhodey implores, Happy’s attention shifting between the two of them as Tony frowns. 

“You know I can’t do that,” Tony tries to say, only for Rhodey to start shaking his head.

“No. You think you can’t but come on, it’s not like you’d be talking to my parents. Your mom and dad are like, freakishly cool with this kind of thing.” Happy begins to nod, Tony shooting him a look at how quickly he was turning sides.

“He’s right. My mom wouldn’t even let me look at a can of beer without thinking that I’d have to go to confession,” Happy says with a laugh, Rhodey smiling as he nudges at Tony, “You really got it made.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony mutters, his shoulders sagging as guilt flows through him once again.

He knows that they’re right - that if he just asked more about his mom, that his parents would be more than willing to share, or so they’ve said.

It’s not that Tony didn’t believe them, it’s just the reality of what kind of conversation would mean for the three of them - hating the look he’d know his mom would try and hide from the visible, physical reminder that Tony wasn’t hers , something that Tony didn’t have any issues with but he hated the idea of making her feel that way. 

Tony knew the story - knew that they’d been broken up at the time, that they’d gotten together before he’d ever shown up.

They were happy - grossly so, yet there was a part of Tony that couldn’t help but wonder that if he hadn’t existed, how different their lives would be. 

He knew his mom and dad loved him, never once doubted that as fact - but the reality still remained: Tony was an accident in every sense of the word, his biological mom a glorified one night stand that in the grand scheme of things, shouldn’t matter. 

Tony was fifteen - he knew that a mom wasn’t someone who birthed you but raised you, knew that he was incredibly lucky to have had a mom at all, much less the mom that he had. He couldn’t have asked for a better one and loved her completely. 

But there were still questions there, lingering in the backgrounds - ones that he didn’t want to ask and risk upsetting the two people he loved most in the world.

Both Rhodey and Happy must catch on to his downward spiral, Rhodey resting a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder as he says, “It’s okay to want to know where you come from, Tones.”

“I know, it’s not that,” Tony says, shrugging off Rhodey’s hand before looking at the two of them - seeing the concern on their faces.

“I just-- I just want to find out the truth.”

They don’t end up ditching class, much to Tony’s dismay - his knee bobbing up and down as he glances to the clock.

“Are we bothering you, Mr. Parker?” He hears his physics teacher ask, frowning with his arms folded as Tony looks back to him.

“You’d have to matter to bother me,” Tony says back, the class letting out an exaggerated “oooh” that just makes Mr. Thompson’s frown grew bigger.

“Detention, Parker. Maybe there you’ll find some respect for your elders.”

Tony’s mouth drops open, going to say, “Are you serious—“

“Should I make it a week?” Mr. Thompson says with glee, Tony scowling before keeping his mouth shut.

He’d overheard his dad’s complaints about having one of him and his mom’s old high school buddies being his teacher - knowing he could probably blame some kind of Severus Snape-esque grudge on giving him detention, even if Mr. Thompson hadn’t ever acted that way before. 

But a week’s worth of detention would be hard to explain away, pressing his lips together as he glares at Mr. Thompson— feeling himself sink into the chair, 

“That’s what I thought, now where were we?” 

Mr. Thompson continues to drone on but Tony’s leg keeps bouncing up and down, keeping his face towards the front and ignoring the look that he knows he’s getting by both Happy and Rhodey. 

They might not want to ditch with him - for good reason maybe - but Tony wasn’t going to let anything stop him from finding out what was going on. 

He’d seen the news stories - clips and social media ramblings of some kind theft that had been happening around the city. Despite what his parents seemed to think, Tony wasn’t completely unaware of who his biological mom was. 

Or is , Tony thinks to himself as Mr. Thompson starts talking about potential and kinetic energy. 

His biological mom was still out there, Tony knew it in his gut . And even if she wasn’t interested in knowing him or being around him, Tony was going to figure out the truth.

Tony was going to find her. 

“Come on, come on, come on,” Tony mutters to himself, looking around the seedy warehouse. Every lesson his dad has ever tried to impart on him is gone now, creeping alongside the last building that he had geolocated from tweets of some recent criminal activity of the sticky finger variety. 

A benefit of being the son of Spider-Man is knowing exactly where crime is and who was usually involved - even if that was something that Spider-Man himself wasn’t so happy about his son knowing. 

“Stay out of trouble. Get down, get home ,” his dad had said on more than one occasion, despite Tony’s pleas to the contrary. He knew - logically - that his dad was just looking out for him, that despite being his son that Tony hadn’t inherited his powers. 

But that was something that Tony just thought of as a minor inconvenience, dreams and plans for the day when he’ll be able to figure out something that could help him be an equal in a fight - to help his dad however he would be able to. 

That’s not why Tony is here - now - creeping along to try and find out where the person that the dark web called ‘the Black Cat’. Tony has a creeping suspicion, maybe a gut instinct, that this person could know more of who his mom is or maybe, despite what Rhodey tried to claim, could be his mom himself. 

It seemed suspicious as hell that the Black Cat, originating in New York and active right up until the moment Tony was born, suddenly disappeared from view. 

“Get this shit out of here!” 

Tony freezes, ducking behind a crate of boxes at hearing voices. He hadn’t expected anyone to still be here, a flood of terror now at wondering what he’d stepped into.

“You think the boss cares about all of this when he got what he wanted?” Tony hears a man sniff, the other laughing as they grunt - lifting up some kind of equipment from the sound of it as he continues. 

“Think the boss is gonna be having some different priorities now.”

The two men laugh, a prickle down Tony’s spine at the sound.

“Come on. Let’s go before he comes back and makes our life hell. You know he could do it too now.”

“Yeah,” the other one sneers, Tony frowning, “Gonna be a hell of a surprise.”

What the hell are they talking about? Tony thinks to himself, thoughts of his biological mom now put on hold at the question of who these guys are and who exactly their boss is.

A voice that suspiciously sounds like his dad is telling him that he should leave - that anything that they’re doing is something that he shouldn’t concern himself with and just tell his dad for later. Though how Tony would be able to explain how he found this information remained to be seen, not when he’d have to admit that he was messing around with things and in places that he shouldn’t be.

Tony doesn’t get the chance to debate anything further when his phone starts to buzz, cursing to himself and hoping the guys don’t hear it as he scrambles for it.

His luck seems to run out - good ole Parker luck - when he hears one of the guy ask, “You hear that?” 

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Tony mutters to himself, grabbing his phone and his stomach dropping when he sees MOM flash across the scene - ending the call and feeling his heart rate a thousand miles a minute.

If there’s anything that he knows of his mom, he knows that he won’t be able to avoid her call for long - especially if he ignored it the first time. 

But he’s more concerned with the threat of these creepy guys in the warehouse and whoever their mysterious boss is rather than the wrath of his mother - for now at least - slowly slinking back the way he came in from and hoping desperately that they won’t follow after him. 

“Go check it out,” he hears one of the guys say, Tony’s heart racing as he slowly backs away. 

He can hear the lumbering footsteps from the other side, slowly creeping forward and catching a glimpse of the thing that the guys were hauling away. 

It’s a long metal tube, something that almost looks like one of those pods from Alien , an instinct that he got from his mother to want to take a picture of it and document it. It’s not what he came for, at least not anything that the Black Cat might allegedly be involved in, but it’s just as interesting - wondering if he’d accidentally stumbled across something that he could help his dad out with. 

The desire to impress his dad becomes secondary over the very real threat behind him, finding an exit out - only to hear one of the guys call out, “HEY!”

“Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit,” Tony mutters to himself as he books it, running as fast as he possibly can. The adrenaline is pumping through his system, hearing the lumbering footsteps of the guys behind him only for panic to seize him when he hears gunshots.

“GET HIM!” One of the guys yells, terror flooding through Tony as he runs through the street and cuts across a back alley way - hearing his dad’s voice in his head reprimanding him for getting into something that he shouldn’t have. 

His phone is buzzing again, Tony wanting to reach for it in his pocket but correctly guessing that if he stops even for a second that he won’t ever have a chance of answering her as he runs as fast and as far as his legs can take him - footsteps and gunshots falling away behind him. 

“Where have you been?” 

“I’m,” Tony takes a deep breath, crowded behind a tree in a busy intersection. It’s been an hour since he’d run for his life but he can still feel his heart racing - glancing over his shoulder constantly with the expectation that they’ll find him and snatch him off the street, “Sorry, I was at the library with Happy.”

“Hm,” his mom says, clearly disbelieving but not much she can do about it considering she’s already in Sokovia - calling him to see how he’s doing before she heads to bed. “What were you working on?”

“Kinetic energy assignment. It’s stupid, really,” Tony says, glancing over his shoulder once more before he crosses the intersection, “I could do it in my sleep.”

“And yet you spent an hour in the library because…?” His mom asks, Tony wincing as he makes his way across the street. 

“To help him,” he says with a confidence he doesn’t necessarily have, a lot more rattled than he’s trying to let on, “You know, being a good friend and kid and all that.”

“Are you okay?” She asks, cutting right through Tony’s bullshit in the freakish way that she always does - less anger in her voice and more concern that twists at something in Tony’s gut. He’s tempted to tell her everything - that he’d been looking for his biological mom, that he got shot at by some creepy dudes in a warehouse, that he’s convinced there’s some kind of bigger, more alien thing involved now in the city - but he doesn’t, not yet. Not when he doesn’t have enough information. 

Not when he can’t stomach the idea that he could end up hurting her over something as stupid as this. 

“I’m fine, just tired. I’m heading home now,” Tony says, forcing a smile to hope that it carries over the phone. “How was your flight?”

“It was fine. Tony, are you sure you’re okay?” His mom asks again, giving him the chance once again to tell the truth - something that he can clearly hear from knowing his mom as well as he does. 

He’s tempted to do it, knowing that any anger that she might have for putting himself in danger would be abated since she was literally thousands of miles away.

But he doesn’t, something that in hindsight he would regret, something he would torment himself over to wonder if maybe if he had, it wouldn't have been too late as he shakes his head.

“No mom,” he says as he makes his way to the other side, “I’m fine.” 

By the time Tony makes it home it’s late, much later than when he’s usually supposed to be home. His dad mentioned being home late for something but even Tony knows that this is pushing it - having been too scared to head home and risk the guys following him. It’s not that he was genuinely scared for himself, though he was, it was that these guys - whatever they were involved in - didn’t need to know where Spider-Man lived. 

If there’s anything Tony’s learned from a lifetime of being the son of Spider-Man and the famous Michelle Jones, it’s that people with bad intentions never like to leave loose ends. 

And they are always more observant than people like to give them credit for.

Which is why, when it’s past any kind of semblance of a respectable time to be home, Tony’s not surprised to find that his dad is already there - still in the Spider suit and staring off in the kitchen.

He doesn’t even flinch when Tony walks in and closes the door behind him, Tony taking a deep breath and facing this at least head on. 

“Hey dad.”

Tony waits, frowning when his dad continues to stare off into the kitchen - standing up right as if he was listening for something.

“Dad?”

Tony’s voice jarrs him out of it the second time, his dad’s whole body shaking as he seems to come back to himself and turn around.

“Hi Tony, how was school today?” His dad asks, his tone even and his eyes bright - Tony blinking a few times in surprise.

“It was… fine. You know, school,” Tony says, bracing himself for the lecture that now looking at him, he’s not sure is coming. His dad is staring at him, as if he’s a puzzle that he can’t quite fix. Tony is waiting for him to launch into some kind of anecdote or story, to joke or even to be firm but he doesn’t do any of that - staring at Tony expectantly, as if waiting for him to direct the conversation. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Tony offers, confused not just at how his dad is acting but the complete lack of response - noticing now that the Spider-Man suit is half torn to shreds and yet his dad is still staring and standing there as if he hadn’t noticed. It was something that’s grated on Tony for years, his dad’s insistence on hiding the more dangerous parts of Spider-Man to him. He knows it’s dangerous, knows that his dad risks his life every night and gets hurt sometimes in doing it.

But his dad tonight just stands there in the kitchen, not even bothering to hide or cover up the long stripes and scratches - his expression searching Tony’s in a way that unnerves him not just for how calm it is, but how calculating it is. 

“That’s fine, son,” his dad says, “have you eaten?”

“Yep,” Tony says, “Just gonna go shower now.”

His dad just stares at him, Tony feeling as if he’s waiting for some other kind of nudge or conversation. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go… do that,” Tony says, his dad nodding once.

“Alright, son,” he says, before turning away from Tony, this time going to sit down at the kitchen table.

Tony feels completely dumbfounded, not just for the complete lack of response but for how weird his dad is being.

In hindsight, looking back, Tony would wonder why he hadn’t realized right then and there that something was wrong - how he could have been so blind to the truth right in front of him.

But he doesn’t, shaking it away as projecting his own freak out from having been chased around with a gun, walking up the stairs to get ready for bed. 

Something that Tony will only live to regret. 

Chapter Text

And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view

“And everything’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony says into the phone, stuffing his books into his backpack. 

“Where’s your dad?” His mom asks on the other line, Tony frowning as he shrugs only to remember she can’t see that. 

“I don’t know, he left early this morning,” Tony says, the quiet on the other end of the line causing him to stop in place. 

“Why?” He asks, hearing her sigh.

“Nothing. It’s— just don’t stay out too late okay?” She asks, making Tony think it was not nothing as he zips up his backpack. 

“Is something—“

“Please, Tony. Just listen to me,” she replies, exasperated in a way she usually isn’t. 

It makes Tony feel uneasy. 

“Ok, I won’t,” he says, and he only half means it— the sinking feeling in his gut only growing stronger since his mom doesn’t call him out on it. 

She always saw through his little fibs over the years, even better at catching his dad sneaking in when they were both supposed to be asleep.

She has to be distracted about something big if she missed something as simple as this as she says, “I think I’m going to catch an earlier flight.”

“Are you finished already?” Tony asks as throws his backpack over his shoulder, wondering why she’s telling him this directly than to his dad. 

“I’m… I need to talk to your dad. Have him call me, okay?”

“He hasn’t talked to you?” Tony asks incredulously, the silence on the other end of the line sending warning bells.

Unlike so many of his friends, his parents were stupidly sick in love with each other still— the kind of love that even his desire to find his birth mom was more from a want to know her rather than any kind of feeling of misplacement or abandonment. 

If his dad wasn’t talking to his mom, for any reason, something had to be seriously wrong. 

“I have to go,” she says, hearing someone talking in the background. “Just be careful coming home, okay?”

“I will, love you.”

“Love you too,” she says before hanging up, Tony feeling even more uneasy as he stares around at his room.

Something was going on with her— with his dad— something that had her worried enough that she was cutting short a trip that she’d been preparing to go on for a while. 

It wasn’t like her, just like it wasn’t like his dad to disappear without saying why— any old stories he heard about him doing so from his Uncle Ned being something his dad hasn’t done in years.

He gets a text from Rhodey, asking him if they’re meeting up before school that throws him out of his thoughts— frowning as he quickly replies.

Something was wrong , but Tony didn’t know what it was. 

He would regret not figuring it out sooner. 

“How’s your dad doing?” Pepper asks as she sidles up next to him at lunch, immediately taken aback at her non-sequitur as he blinks. 

“What?”

“Otto Octavius was murdered,” she says as Happy sits down across from her, making a face as he sets his tray down.

“How do you know that?”

“It was all over the news,” Pepper says, strawberry blonde ponytail swinging over her shoulder as she looks at Happy. “Some of us like keeping up with what’s going on in the world.”

“Some of us don’t have time to keep up with the world, not if I want to pass chemistry,” Happy grumbles. “Coach says if I don’t get my grades up, that I’m off the team.”

“Tony can help you, right?” Pepper asks, looking back at him as Tony nods absentmindedly, mind still stuck on the first thing she said. 

“Wait, Doctor Octavius was murdered ?” 

Pepper nods solemnly.

“Yeah, at his lab. Your dad didn’t mention it? It was a huge story this morning.”

I didn’t see my dad this morning , Tony thinks but has the wherewithal not to say, frowning as he shoots Happy a glance from across the table. 

One that Happy completely missed but Rhodey seems to as he comes to sit next to him, eyes traveling over everyone as he asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Hap’s worried he’s gonna be kicked off the team and my dad’s boss got murdered,” Tony says nonchalantly, Pepper letting out a little huff as he continues, “And Pepper’s trying to decide if she’s gonna ask me out or not.”

“No I’m not,” she says hotly, cheeks flaming pink and confirming for him that his crush on her wasn’t unrequited. “You’re very presumptuous to think I’d want to go out with you.”

“Only someone who uses ‘presumptuous’ in conversation could ,” Tony counters, Pepper squinting at him as Rhodey extends a hand out. 

“Whoa, whoa, wait, back up. Murdered ? Is your dad okay?” 

The three of them look at him, Rhodey especially since he was the only one of his friends who knew about his dad’s real job.

“He’s fine, you know how he is. What’s the problem with Mr. Davis’ class, Hap?” Tony cooly deflects, Rhodey giving him a look that Tony ignores— only to avoid Pepper catching on to something she shouldn’t. 

He’s not able to put it off for long, barely getting through the rest of their lunch hour before Rhodey pulls him aside— the two of them watching as Happy and Pepper joke back and forth before he asks, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Tony says under his breath. 

“You don’t think—“

“No,” Tony says sharply, shaking his head as they throw away their trash and put the trays away. “She wouldn’t— I mean, she’s a thief right? She wouldn’t have any reason to do that.”

Rhodey is quiet as they walk out of the cafeteria, Tony hearing the way his mind works as he looks over to him.

“She wouldn’t do it, Rhodey.”

“I’m not saying she would but if— wasn’t there something going on with Doctor Octavius?” He asks slowly, Tony frowning as they walk down the hallway.

It was the worst kept secret of the past few months, how stressed his dad’s work had made him and the demands and long hours he’d been putting in. It was part of the reason that his mom put off her trip for so long, even if neither of them thought to tell him that was the case. 

Tony was observant, after all.

He knew the kind of work that his dad and Doctor Octavius did was special— unique enough for other companies to want to steal.

Tony might’ve had some suspicions on who his mom might be and the kind of work that she got into but murder ? That wasn’t something Tony was willing to believe. 

“What did your dad say?” Rhodey whispers as they walk down the hallway, the sinking feeling coming back full force as he shakes his head. 

“Nothing. He didn’t even mention it,” Tony says off-hand, struck now by how odd that was. His dad tried to hide Spider-Man from him and the stuff that he saw but anytime it went bad or anytime it would make the news, he did his best to make sure Tony knew the real story— or at the very least understood that he was handling it. 

It was unlike him to keep it from him, just like it was for him to be avoiding his mom— his stomach twisting into knots at the thought that maybe Rhodey was right. 

Maybe it did involve his birth mom.

Maybe his dad knew that too.

“Do you think—“

“We’ll talk later,” Tony says before tightening his grip on his backpack, rushing off to class and away not just from Rhodey’s questioning looks but the feeling that something was wrong .

By the time Tony makes it home, the apartment is quiet and empty— unusual only because he hadn’t listened to his mom and came straight home. 

He expected the lecture from his dad, was betting on it if he was honest with himself— knowing there had to be some reason that his mom was cutting her trip short and that she’d been so adamant about coming home early.

Knowing it had to be the reason why his dad hadn’t mentioned his boss being murdered and had been so weird with him the night before. 

It could only be his birth mom coming back to town, Tony wasting his time at the library and then walking around the city— passing the time until the sun went down and he’d be in more than enough trouble for being a no show.

Only for his dad to never message him at all.

It was eerie, coming back home to their brownstone and knowing before he even sets foot in the door that it was empty— confusion twisting around in his gut as he locked the door behind him and looked around. 

“Dad?” He calls out, risking getting in trouble or at the very least, catching him in something— only for his cheeks to warm and a nervousness to build up in his gut at the recognition that no one is home. 

That’s weird , he thinks to himself as he walks through the kitchen, flipping on the switch and seeing it just as it was before— shoulders sagging almost in disappointment. 

Something was going on— his mind easily tracking that maybe his dad was too preoccupied with finding, or fighting , his birth mom to check in on him even if a voice in the back of his mind whispered that this would never be the case. 

He’ll regret not listening to that voice sooner.

Tony sighs, opening up the fridge and grabbing something to drink before closing it— unsure of what to do with himself.

He’d been so sure, so certain that his dad would’ve been here at home— the app that he usually used to track his whereabouts showing that he was here at home yet clearly not being present at all. 

Tony frowns, tapping his fingers against the soda can he got out before putting it down on the counter— rushing upstairs to see why that could be the case. 

He isn’t sure if he’s surprised to see his dad’s cell phone still at the side table, battery almost dead and dozens of missed calls from his mom— texts too.

Tony hesitated for a second before he reaches for it and unlocks it, scrolling through the messages and expecting them to be about his birth mom— only to frown when he reads through them.

MJ: I got your voicemail, what’s going on? What happened with Otto?

MJ: I called. Are you okay?

MJ: i got the alert about what happened at the lab. Peter what the hell is going on?

MJ: where are you? 

Over and over and over, messages that didn’t make sense to Tony— shaking his head in disbelief.

He was certain that they’d been hiding something from him, hiding her but if all the missed calls and texts said anything to him, his mom was just as much in the dark as he was.

Tony was so preoccupied, so confused that he didn’t even notice that someone had come in when he hadn’t noticed— startling when a shadow casts over him.

“Are you supposed to be doing that?” His dad asks, an odd tone to his voice that Tony’s never heard before— his heart skipping a beat as he takes a step back.

“Sorry, I’m— you forgot your phone?” Tony asks as he looks at his father, a nervous feeling in his gut as he stares. 

There’s something… different about him in this light, cautious and tense in a way that sends off warning bells in the back of his mind— irrational and yet utterly impossible to ignore.

A feeling only magnified when his father clicks his tongue, taking a step forward that instinctively makes Peter take a step back as he says, “I didn’t forget. I left it here.”

Tony stares, something flickering behind his father’s eyes that he’s never seen before— tilting his head as he looks back at him.

“You are a very smart boy, Anthony. Smarter than I’ve given you credit for. Your father would’ve been proud.”

Tony’s stomach drops, the warning bells of a lifetime of growing up as the son of Michelle Jones and Spider-Man coming to him in full force as he takes another cautious step back.

“Dad?” He asks, the man in front of him grinning with a smile that sends a shiver down his spine. 

“Not anymore.”

Chapter Text

Tony is smart.

Too smart for his own good, as all his teachers have said for years. Tony was the troublemaker in class, solely because he breezed through any school work and homework in the same time that it took for most students to read through the first assignment. He’s clever, quick on his feet, easily able to nudge and squeeze his way out of almost anything. 

Tony is smart. 

Yet he’s wholly and completely unprepared for the sheer panic that grips him, rooting him in place as his heart skips a beat— staring into the eyes of the man in front of him.

Because it is a man, this imposter that’s in front of him, and not his dead— eyes boring into his with a look of malice that Tony’s never seen. Fear causes his throat to constrict, breath to hitch and mind to work in supreme overdrive as he thinks of what he could possibly begin to do.

It’s a half second, but it’s all he needs— lunging forward to grab at something on the side table, only for his hand to be caught before he can let it go.

“Ah, ah, ah, what do we have here?” The man says, using his dad’s voice— his dad’s face— and yet not him at all, an eerie sense of displacement in the pit of his stomach as his grip holds tight against Tony’s wrist. 

Too right, enough for Tony to cry out when he feels something crack— the man letting him go as Tony falls to the ground, grabbing at what feels like a now broken wrist as he scoots back.

“Apologies. I forget my own strength,” the man says, as if it’s just an observation on the weather— looking down at his hands and the rest of his body. “Your father was holding back.”

“Who are you?” Tony gasps out— trying and failing to put on a brave front but he’s in unimaginable pain, his wrist throbbing as fear and adrenaline flow through his system in equal measure. 

“You don’t recognize me? Truly? After all that bravado out on display, I would’ve thought you would’ve been eager to get to know me. See me , despite the face I have?”

Tony is smart and yet not able to connect the dots, pain blinding him as he scoots back further and further away from the man in front of him— encroaching out of the door as he tries to get away.

It’s a failed mission from the start, a web sent out to his leg that roots him in place on the floor— the imposter wearing his father’s face crouching down low as he squats beside him.

“And here I thought you were a smart boy, Anthony,” he says, tilting his head to the side as Tony struggles in vain against the weight of the web holding him down. “Do you really not see it?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Tony sneers, the man letting out a huff of laughter. “Where’s my dad?”

The man makes a tching noise in the back of his throat. 

“If you were my child, I’d wash your mouth out with soap,” he says, pursing his lips together as if in thought. “Though in a manner of speaking, I guess you are now. I’m still learning the process, which for me, is so very intriguing.”

Tony doesn’t answer, mind now working in hyperdrive to figure out how the fuck he can get out of here— less concerned now of figuring out who tjr person is in front of him and more wondering if he can make it out alive. 

It’s clear that this person— because it wasn’t his dad, couldn’t be his dad— had no intention of letting him leave, all the lessons that had been instilled into him from his parents over the years telling him that it was better to get out and get out alive than to try and be the hero.

He struggles against tbe webs, avoiding looking into the imposters face until it seems that they’ve caught on that that’s what Tony is doing— a hand shooting out to grab him by the chin, forcing him to look at the face that he’d grown up knowing was his father. 

Yet he can see it this person’s eyes— the same eyes despite being so completely different— Tony gritting his teeth together and fighting off tears from how painfully he’s holding him, how much his wrist is throbbing in a clear break. 

“He spoke of you, in his last moments,” the man has the audacity to say, fury filling Tony from his head down to his toes. “You and your mother. The woman who raised you, I should say. I have not her figured out the truth of your paternity.”

“Don’t talk about her,” Tony says with a scowl, a grin blossoming across the man’s face as he looks at Tony in a way that sends a shiver down his spine. 

“Oh I intend to do more than—“

He stops, straightening up and looking beyond Tony— letting him go just as Tony hears something that makes his heart skip a beat. 

The front door unlocking, keys in hand and the sound of the one voice be most desperately wants to hear and also wants to be far away.

“Peter? Tony? Where are you?” He hears his mom’s voice ringing out, Tony’s eyes widening and going to hell for her to run only for another web to be shot across his face.

Tony screams but it’s too late, struggling against the weight of the web to his leg and with the web that’s now covering him from warning her— a sinister grin on the man’s face as he brings a finger up to his mouth. 

“Coming,” he calls out as he brings his hand down, winking to Tony before stepping over him— avoiding Tony’s feeble attempts at trying to block him from doing so. 

Tony shuffles and moves, anything to try and get away from where he’s planted but it’s futile— watching in horror as the man walks past him and down the stairs to where his mom is, Tony still yelling so hard that he can hardly breathe. 

He yells and he yells and yet he knows in a way he can’t begin to explain that it’s too late— whoever this imposter is has already won, tears springing to his eyes as the reality of it comes crashing down.

His dad wasn’t his dad anymore and where he is, Tony doesn’t know. There was one that Tony can think of that his dad had fought before that could steal faces but that man was long gone— just as this was different in a way that Tony can’t explain.

It was his dad and yet it wasn’t— as if someone else had taken up residence behind his eyes, moving and speaking in a way that feels so painfully familiar despite how awfully off balance it is.

His dad is— his dad—

His mom is in trouble. 

Tony pulls hard, groaning under the weight of the web once more as he struggled in vain— moving too fast so that his broken hand moves wrong, the tears that he’s been trying to hold back letting loose as his muffled screams go unheard.

He can’t lose his mom, his mom— the woman who raised him, who loved him, who supported him— the woman that he’s been trying to find that had disappeared from his life paling in comparison to the woman who had been there all along. 

Just a few hours ago, Tony had been consumed with finding the mother who had dropped him with his dad and then supposedly died— the mystery and the missing gaps now all fading away to the reality that if he doesn’t do something, he just might lose the one woman who had been more his mom than anyone who had given birth to him could ever hold to be. 

He hits his head against the floor, muffled sobs coming from behind the webbed face as he struggles again and again in vain— how suspiciously quiet it is downstairs not quite registering except for all the ways that it meant that Tony had lost. 

He’d lost— his birth mom, his dad and now his mom too, an agony that ran deep into the middle of his chest threatening to swallow him whole when he hears someone rushing down the stairs. 

Tony glances up, bracing himself for the imposter to confirm for him that all his worst nightmares have come to life only for his heart to skip a beat when he sees who it is— his mom, eyes wide and face drawn as she rushes to him.

“Tony,” she says breathlessly as she moves forward, Tony jumping in place when another being materializes in front of him, a knife in hand. 

He jerks until he sees who it is, his mom’s soothing hands immediately reaching for him to brace him as Sue Storm cute through the webs on his legs, delicately cuts through the same one at his mouth. 

“ Mom ,” Tony cries out just as his mother envelops him in her arms, Tony ignoring the pain of his wrist and the strain he feels as she holds him tight. 

“You’re okay. You’re okay, I’m here. Are you hurt?” She asks, delicately pulling him away to study him in a move that he’s seen her do to his dad— holding back another sob as her face falls at seeing his wrist. 

“Sue—“

“We’ll get him help,” she says gently before looking over his mom’s shoulder, Tony seeing Reed Richards look solemn as he stands at the edge of the stairs. 

“We have him,” he says grimly, Tony looking bewildered as he looks between them.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Tony asks, Reed’s lips pressed together as his mom looks at him with an openly broken expression.

“Let’s get you fixed up first, okay?”

“No,” Tony says stubbornly, clutching his broken wrist tightly to his chest— as tightly as he can as he holds his ground. “What happened ?”

His mom looks over to Sue then back to Tony, a shift in her expression that causes him to soften.

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” she says, confirming something that he had already known. 

His dad was gone.

Tony sits on the edge of a bed in the Baxter Building’s medbay, eyes staring off into nothing as Johnny Storm gently wraps his arm in a cast. 

He’s not sure why Johnny was given this job but he can guess, Reed and Sue in the other room along with his mom— arguing about what to do with his father’s body. 

Because his dad is dead. 

In the hours that he hadn’t answered his mom’s calls, she was immediately suspicious— a gut feeling that she followed when she took the earlier flight she mentioned she would, contacting the Four and telling them that something wasn’t right.

She hadn’t known what she would be coming home to but she had been prepared— Sue walking in behind her with a specially curated formula of something that Reed had concocted years and years ago, back when Spider-Man was just beginning as a hero and could’ve been a threat. 

Tony’s learned now that his dad— or whoever was inhabiting him— was knocked out almost immediately, his danger sense either unable to alert against his mom as a threat or that the imposter was unable to make sense of it. The body was transported to the Baxter Building for further tests, Reed now saying something behind closed doors that Tony can only barely pick up but that he can get the gist of. 

Whoever it is, whoever is in control of his dad’s body— it isn’t him, brain wave activities that registered on the Four’s fancy tech not matching what had previously been on record for one Peter Parker. 

Tony can hear them— whispers, arguments— to try and see what they can do.

Tony is smart. 

Too smart for his own good.

His dad wasn’t here anymore. 

His dad wasn’t coming back.

“All set,” Johnny Storm whispers softly, Tony blinking then looking over to him— a wan smile on his face that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“You okay, kid?” Johnny asks, Tony just staring at him as Johnny sighs.

“Yeah, dumb question,” he says as an answer to himself when the doors swoosh open, his mom coming in and immediately rushing to him.

“Is he—“

“Clean break,” Johnny says, taking a step break. “Set it in a cast, should be good to go.” 

There’s a beat of silence as his mom studied him, coming up to him and smoothing his hair before Johnny excused himself— Tony watching as his mom seems to brace herself. 

Tony is too smart, too clever, too ashamed to let her try and stumble over this.

“I know.”

She stops, looking at him curiously.

“That dad’s dead,” Tony continues, his mom looking at him as if he’d just knocked her in the gut. 

“He’s…” she begins, Tony holding her gaze— daring her to lie to him but she’s never been that person in his life, eyes prickling with tears as she swallows something down, taking his hand.

“There's someone… else, in there. From what Reed can find,” she says, sniffing as she takes his other hand. “We can’t… we’ve tried—“

She cuts herself off, steeling herself it seems before she nods once— looking up and into Tony’s eyes.

“We’re going to keep him under.”

“What?” Tony asks incredulously, stomach turning at the possibility that the imposter would be allowed to live— in any capacity— when his dad, his dad—

“If there’s any chance, any at all that we can find a way to bring him back,” his mom says, voice breaking slightly as she continues, “we’re gonna look for it. Reed has agreed to keep watch, to look into it, maybe we can find out where the Ancient One went off to and—“

“He’s dead,” Tony interjects, the look on his mom’s face preventing him from saying more— such open brokenness written all over her expression before he watches in real time as it turns into determination.

“Maybe,” she says, holding his hand tighter. “Maybe not.” 

“Mom—“

“But we— we aren’t going to give up,” she says, forcing him to look at her. “On him. On us . We always get back up, right?”

Tony feels as if he could cry, the determination that he sees on his mom’s face one that he can’t even begin to try and feel.

“He’s—“

“ We always get back up,” she repeats, firm and yet gentle— letting go of one of his hands to bring her own up to his cheek, thumb cradling his softly as she searches his face. 

“He loved you so— so much,” she says and that’s what makes Tony break, the weight of everything that had been avoiding crashing down on him as he fights back tears.

He doesn’t fight it when she brings her hand down and pulls him into a hug, doesn’t fight the tears anymore when he borrows his head into her shoulder— the feelings that he had tried so hard to fight against all washing over him as reality starts to sink in.

His dad is dead, or close enough to it— whoever or whatever that had taken up residence in his body so far gone that wherever his dad is, there was almost no chance of bringing him back. 

But he has his mom— his mom, the woman who raised him and loved him, the woman that supports him despite how much shame he feels in this moment for chasing after a ghost that he would never know.

Tony holds his mom tight, feeling her own embrace wrap around him as they hold each other steady. 

Tony is smart. 

Too smart for his own good.

He finally accepts— at least for a moment— how little it is that he truly knows. 

THIRTY YEARS LATER

Tony blinks, taking a deep breath in and a breath out as he stares at the building in front of him— the street relatively quiet as he stands in place. 

Steve said that this had been a mistake, the chances of them finding the particles that they need in this part of town almost impossible but Tony knew that he couldn’t afford to miss this.

Tony refused to.

In a day that had been filled with revisiting the past, a day spent in a whirlwind of retreading old haunts and seeing past versions of himself— it was this that made him truly feel like a man out of time, staring at the brownstone in front of him in awe. 

It was if it was plucked straight from his memories, a near perfect recreation despite how much Tony knows that isn’t either of these things— the danger that he could present to the timeline if he were to do something far too different, step on some wrong leaf or maybe fuck it all up.

He’s not sure. He didn’t pay much attention to Strange when he discussed the plan.

Tony’s too smart for his own good.

His breath catches when he sees the door open, watched in awe as his younger self— bold, brave, brash and completely oblivious— rushes down the stairs and turns down the street, headed off to school without a second glance. 

Headed to his future without a hint or a thought of what was to come. 

There’s a part of Tony— the same part of him that resembled the boy who was rushing down the street— that wanted to call out to his younger self, tell him to come back and to fix things. Tell him to cherish the moment before it’s gone. 

Tony is far too smart and far too old now to waste his efforts in trying to convince a younger version of himself of something he knows he won’t do.

Not when the person he really wants to see is just moments from appearing, holding his breath when the door opens again.

It’s like the wind’s been knocked out of him to see his dad once again— his dad, with keys in hand and coffee carefully balanced in the way Tony had forgotten he used to do. 

Tony takes a step forward before he can convince himself that this is a bad idea, another step as his dad comes down the stairs— Tony’s mind skippibg and moving and—

“Mr. Parker?” He hears himself ask, watching as his dad looks up at him— stopping in place as he eyes him warily.

“Can I… help you?” He asks, looking at him up and down. Tony’s glad that he had ditched the suit, an easier way to blend in in finding civilian clothes and even more— giving him a few precious seconds with the one person he’s wanted to talk to in years, the one person he never thought he’d ever have the chance to do so again. 

“You can, actually, you mind telling me what kind of roast that is you got here?” Tony asks, watching as his dad’s face turns from confusion to slight amusement as he looks at the coffee.

“Um. I don’t know, my wife gets this for me.”

“Is your wife home?” Tony asks, taking another step forward— betting correctly that his dad would take an equal step back.

“She’s— I’m sorry, have we met?”

“I get that a lot, must be one of those faces, but really, you sure you don’t know what kind of coffee you got there?” He asks, taking another step forward. 

He expects it when his dad takes another step back, expects it again when he nearly trips on the crack of the sidewalk that in his memories his dad had always seemed to miss— the coffee sloshing around in the to go cup just enough so that it spills, reaching its target all over his dad’s shirt. 

“Ooh, sorry, sorry, I’ll— wow that is a mess. Well,” Tony says, taking a few steps back and putting his hands up. “Sorry, man.”

“What the— great ,” he heard his dad mutter then sigh, watching as he sees him contemplate whether or not he should go up and change or go about the rest of his day. 

Tony stares— awkwardly so— so many things he wants to say but doesn’t because he doesn’t want to mess this up, can’t mess this up as his dad sighs.

“I’ll leave you to it then. Sorry. Again,” he says as his dad just shakes his head, Tony withholding the urge to break out into a grin when his dad heads back up the stairs. 

Tony is smart, too smart for his own good.

The time heist had seemed like one of those too smart— or too stupid— ideas to get the stones before Thanos ever could, a far reaching plan that Tony wasn’t convinced they could truly make it work.

If Strange were here, he’d warn against Tony messing with the timeline— the few conversations he did listen to telling him that when you mess with time, it tends to mess back.

Tony turns, walking away from the brownstone. 

This felt like something that was worth the risk. 

Maybe it was all for nothing, maybe his dad would change into a new shirt and still make it to work on time— still live out the last day of his life before his boss Otto Octavius corners him in a warehouse across town, a trap that no one could’ve seen coming before he takes his essence and transfers it into his own dying body. 

Maybe it would still end the way it always does, the shell that was Peter Parker’s body locked up in a constant form of stasis with the Foundation— an endless search for a cure that would never come and to retrieve some semblance of his dad that had died long ago.

But maybe, just maybe, the multiverse theory held some weight— the timelines they’re in and they’re traipsing around with possibly shifting just slightly enough that this Peter Parker never makes it to work on time or to that warehouse, thinks twice or maybe just gets distracted— comes home to his son and eventually to his wife. 

It’s a life that Tony will never get to live, his own ideas of whether this journey through time and space will end well for him all but prepared for with a recorded message on a hard drive that he hopes his wife and daughter never have to see. 

But a Tony will get to live it, maybe— hopefully. 

His mom taught him to never give up, to always get back up. 

Tony walks forward to an uncertain future, committed to doing just that.