Archive of Our Own

Peter jiggled his leg all throughout the last period of the day, glancing up at the clock every few moments as it inched towards three-thirty. He shot out of the seat when the bell rang, knocking over his pencil case in the process.

He groaned when a handful of pens and pencils fell out of it and rolled across the floor every which way. He crouched down to pick them up, jerking back when he heard MJ’s voice.

“What’s up with you?” She knelt down and grabbed a couple of pens that had rolled under the adjacent desk.

Peter froze in his motion. “Nothing. Who says anything is up? Nothing’s up. Why would you think-”

MJ turned on the balls of her feet to face him, still crouched on the floor. “You’ve been acting weird.”

God, no. She can’t know. There’s no way…

Peter cleared his throat. “Maybe I’m just a weird person. Ever think of that?”

“So, so many times,” MJ deadpanned.

Peter scowled at her. “So now that we’ve established that I’m weird, you can be safely assured that nothing is up.”

MJ raised a skeptical eyebrow as she handed him the last of the pens. Peter took them with a tense, but appreciative smile and scrambled to his feet, shoving the pencil case into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Thanks, MJ, gotta run. I’ll leave you to your pondering.” He walked quickly towards the door.

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

“Robotics club,” he said over his shoulder, and he hurried out of the room before she could call him out on his lie. He ran down the hallway, artfully skirting around a corner to avoid running into Flash. Once out of the building, he picked up speed, dashing along several side streets until he reached the familiar alleyway, and he fumbled through his backpack to yank on his suit.

Once his webshooters were in place, Peter shot a web at the nearest building and swung into the air, unable to suppress a whoop of exhilaration as he raced off towards Queens. Towards home.

Just another day in the life of Spider-Man.

Peter staggered into the same alleyway where he’d left his backpack, which, thankfully, hadn’t been stolen this time. He pulled off his mask and was about to step out of his makeshift suit, when-

“Peter?”

Peter swung around, panicked, mask in hand, to find MJ standing several feet away, slightly out of breath. She stared at him, irritatingly composed, as though she hadn’t just literally caught him with his pants down.

“This isn’t what it looks like!” Peter said desperately, shoving his mask behind his back.

MJ raised an eyebrow. “So you aren’t the guy who runs around in a suit that looks exactly like that and swings on webs?”

“Uh...no?”

MJ huffed. “So what do you call this, then?” She gestured towards his torso.

“Cosplay?” Peter said in a small voice.

MJ rolled her eyes. “Pull the other one, it’s got bells on.”

Peter squinted at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a bad liar, so stop trying.”

Peter slumped his shoulders with a groan. “All right, fine, you got me, I’m Spider-Man.”

MJ finally dropped her composure. “What the actual hell, Peter? How did- what the- you’d better tell me every detail, or I’ll-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll tell you, just keep your voice down.” Peter grabbed MJ’s arm and pulled her deeper into the alleyway, where they were less likely to be spotted. He took a long breath.

“So, you remember that trip to OsCorp, about a month ago?”

MJ nodded.

“Well, long story short, I got bit by a spider than turned out to be radioactive, and I ended up with these weird spider powers-”

“Like shooting webs out of your wrists?” MJ interrupted, glancing down at his gloved hands.

“No, no, I made the webs, they don’t come out of me, that would be insane!”

MJ gave him a look. “Yeah, of all the insane things I’m hearing right now, that would be the craziest.”

Peter huffed. “Will you just let me finish?” MJ closed her mouth, looking vaguely apologetic, and he went on.

“Anyway, I have all these powers, so I have to use them for good, right? To help people. Stopping muggings, car accidents, stuff like that....” Peter trailed off, watching MJ carefully.

“Does Tony know about this?” she asked after a pause. “Or Ned?”

Peter tensed. “No. God, no. Nobody knows. You can’t tell anyone, especially Tony! Please-”

MJ held up her hands. “Chill, I won’t say anything. You know I can keep my mouth shut.”

Peter let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank you, MJ.”

“You are safe, though, right?” MJ asked, narrowing her eyes.

Peter grinned. “Of course I am, I’m Spider-Man.”

“Very reassuring,” MJ said dryly.

“What is it now, Hill?” Tony asked with an exaggerated sigh.

“Good to hear your voice, too, Stark,” said Maria Hill. He could almost hear her eyes rolling on the other end of the line. Oh, the dance they did.

“I’m a delight, I know,” said Tony, leaning back in his chair. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m calling about the Spider-Man.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “You mean that pajama-clad, web-slinging do-gooder who saves cats from trees?”

“That’s the one.” Hill paused. “He’s not only saving cats from trees, though. The guy can catch buses in his bare hands. Or webs.”

“Oh, yeah, I think I saw that video on YouTube,” said Tony, sipping from his fifth cup of coffee. “Are you getting to a point, or-”

“Stop playing dumb, Stark. It’s getting old,” Hill said irritably.

“Not for me, it’s not,” said Tony, swallowing. “But I concede. You want him brought to heel before he goes rogue. That it?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“Why is this my problem?” asked Tony, already knowing the answer. From Hill’s huff of breath, she knew he knew the answer.

“Rhodes is unavailable, as is Romanoff, and even if she were, she has no flying capacity, so she’s not the best candidate for a mid-air chase through Queens.”

“Bet she could shoot him down real easily, though.” Tony took another sip of coffee.

“I don’t want him shot,” said Hill tensely. “Like you said, he’s a do-gooder, for now. I just want him made aware that we’re watching him, so he’d best stay on the straight and narrow.”

Tony yawned, his jaw cracking. “Haven’t you been recruiting? Couldn’t one of the newbies take care of it?”

“We have been,” Hill said in a stiff tone. “But some of our best candidates have been...resistant to our overtures.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“Grow up, Stark,” Hill said tiredly.

Tony chuckled. “All right, all right, I’ll get it done.”

“Preferably within the next twelve hours.”

Tony inhaled through his nose. “No can do. My kids are getting home in-” he glanced at his watch, “a half-hour. It’s gonna have to wait ‘til at least tomorrow afternoon.”

“Fine, fine,” Hill conceded. “Just take care of it.” She hung up before Tony could respond.

“Rude,” he muttered, pulling himself to his feet with a groan. He downed the last of his coffee and headed upstairs to scroll through his StarkPad and pretend he wasn’t waiting for his kids to come home. MJ walked through the door shortly after, hair tousled and paint staining the cuffs of her sleeve.

“Hey, pal,” said Tony, glancing up.

“Hey.” She dropped her backpack on the floor and kicked off her shoes.

“Good day at school?”

“Okay.”

“Just okay?”

MJ shot Tony an amused look. “That’s probably the most dad thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Tony grinned. “Guess I gotta step up my game, then. Knock knock?”

MJ dropped onto the couch, leaning her head back with a groan. “We are not doing knock knock jokes.”

“I’ll have you know that my knock knock jokes are top-notch. Don’t knock ‘em ‘til you’ve tried ‘em.”

Tony smirked triumphantly, deftly catching the pillow MJ threw at his face. He ran his palm across the velvety pillow case absentmindedly, frowning when he saw the time on his watch. “Where’s Peter?”

MJ eyed him carefully for a moment. “Robotics club.”

“Isn’t that on Thursdays?”

“It got rescheduled.”

“Right,” said Tony, shrugging. “Happy brought back about two-dozen donuts this morning, by the way, so if you’re hungry-”

He chuckled when MJ dashed into the kitchen, startling when she came back several moments later, mouth full and clutching a second donut in her fist. She shoved it in his face, swallowing a mouthful.

“Take it,” MJ said flatly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You haven’t eaten in...” she did a quick calculation in her head, “...eight hours.”

“Whoa there, Betty Crocker,” Tony protested, taking the donut from her proffered hand reflexively. “I had one earlier.”

“Yeah, eight hours ago.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but took a bite, ignoring the steadily growing warmth in his chest, because he was not a sap.

The next day found Tony neck deep in upgrades for Rhodey's prosthetics, and he jumped wildly when FRIDAY’s voice rang out. “You have instructed me to remind you that operation ‘Catch the Spider’ is set to begin in approximately ten minutes.”

“Is it that time already?” Tony checked the clock on the holographic screen.

“It is, boss.”

Tony stood up with a faint groan, wiping his hands on his pants, and he summoned the latest version of his suit, figuring it was as good a chance as any to test out its enhanced flying capabilities. Kill two birds with one stone, and all that.

The flight to Queens was noticeably smoother, and it made for a softer landing on the top of a building when he spotted the web-slinger swinging through the air not far away. After studying the guy’s flying pattern for a moment, Tony took off again and managed to land on the same building-top as the spider-guy.

“Hey, Spider-Man,” Tony called out. The spider-guy, who was much smaller in person, spun around, body language screaming shock. He stumbled backwards, actually toppling over the side of the building and shooting a web to catch himself on the next one. Tony rolled his eyes.

Is he really going to make this difficult?

“I just wanna talk,” Tony called out as he flew after the guy. “Man to man. Assuming you’re a man, I mean.”

“I’m good, thanks,” the spider-person finally responded as he swung further away, his voice echoing loudly and sounding strangely...young.

“Don’t make me do this the hard way,” Tony yelled after him.

The guy kept swinging further. He was fast, admittedly, but Tony was faster, and he managed to yank the guy out of mid-air and fly him over to another rooftop. He landed hard, his arm wrapped tightly around the guy’s chest, and he held his repulsor in front of the guy’s face threateningly.

“Tony, no!

Tony let go so fast that the kid stumbled forward and nearly fell.

“Peter!”

Peter pulled off his makeshift mask and turned around to stare up at Tony, his face a combination of frightened and sheepish.

“What the actual hell, Peter?”

Peter looked at his feet. Tony took several slow breaths.

“All right, kid, you’re coming with me.” Tony grabbed Peter’s upper arm. “No arguments.”

To his credit, Peter didn’t argue. He didn’t say much at all, really; he allowed Tony pull him along and grip him under the arms to fly back to the tower without a word.

Tony deposited him on a chair in the living room, where MJ was casually reclining in the armchair. She didn’t look at all surprised to see Peter in his...getup, and Tony felt his anger rise. He rounded on her.

“You knew about this?” he asked angrily, one hand gripping Peter’s shoulder tightly. She nodded once, her face carefully blank.

“Hey, don’t bring her into this,” said Peter, shrugging off Tony’s hand. “It’s not her fault!”

Tony turned back to Peter, moving close enough that the kid had to crane his neck to meet his eyes.

“You wanna explain this, then? Wanna explain what possessed you to run around in a glorified onesie, waxing vigilante?”

“It’s not a onesie.”

“That’s the response you’re going with?” Tony snapped, his voice growing louder. He leaned down closer, his nose inches from Peter’s, grabbing the armrests on either side of the chair. “Because I cannot think of a single-”

Tony’s tirade was cut off when MJ jumped out of her seat and shoved him to the side, hard. He stumbled, his hand catching the wall, and he straightened up, staring at MJ in shock. She was standing in front of Peter, breathing hard, her face white and furious.

“Don’t touch him,” she said, her voice cold. Peter was still sitting on the chair, his shoulders hunched and his arms wrapped around his chest. Tony closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. I think we all need to cool down, here. Peter, go take a shower and change out of that thing. Not in that order.”

Peter jumped up and scrambled out of the room as fast as he could. Tony dropped into the chair the kid had vacated, his heart thumping in his ears.

“Sit down, MJ.”

MJ sat on the adjacent couch, her eyes never leaving him.

Tony sighed. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

MJ’s jaw tightened. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to.”

“Oh, I’ll talk to Peter soon, but I’m talking to you right now.”

MJ pressed her lips together, her eyes hard.

Tony took a long breath. “Listen, I get it. It get that after what you two have been through, you’re gonna be a little gun-shy. I wasn’t thinking.”

MJ broke eye contact and clenched her fists on her lap.

“But I hope you know that I’d never lay a hand on either of you.”

MJ glanced up. “I- I guess I do know that. I just...reacted.”

“Like I said, I get it.” He blew out another breath and rubbed his temples.

MJ took a sharp breath, shame replacing the stony expression on her face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s fine, MJ.”

She met his eyes, her eyes wide and somehow more earnest than Tony had seen before. “I’m really sorry, Tony. I- I should have realized you wouldn’t hurt him. I-.”

“Hey,” Tony said, leaning over to touch her shoulder. “Don’t sweat it. You really think your scrawny butt could put a dent in me?”

MJ snorted, her posture loosening. “I’m almost as tall as you.”

Tony squeezed her shoulder. “Still scrawny.”

MJ scowled at him, and Tony let out a showy sigh of relief. “Phew. The lack of a scowl on your face was starting to freak me out.”

MJ scowled harder, and Tony couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

“All right, so when did Peter tell you?” Tony asked, watching her carefully.

“He didn’t tell me, I caught him in the act.”

“Of course you did,” Tony said with a sigh. “I suppose he asked you not to tell anyone?”

MJ nodded, her jaw tightening.

“I guess I can’t fault you for that.” She relaxed minutely. “But I hope I can trust you to tell me if you think he’s in danger.”

MJ nodded quickly. “Of course.”

“All right.” Tony clapped her on the shoulder. “That’s all. Run along, demon-child. Go wreak havoc behind my back.”

MJ rolled her eyes, but she grabbed her backpack from the floor and left the room.

Tony remained where he was for several long moments, thinking furiously, before heading to Peter’s room. He knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open to find the kid sitting on his bed, now dressed in sweats, wet hair dripping onto his collar.

“Hey, Pete.”

Peter looked up briefly before glancing at the floor again. “Hey.”

“Can I sit?”

Peter shrugged, and Tony took it as permission to sit beside him on the bed. He tried to lay a hand on Peter’s shoulder, but the kid pulled away, sliding over a few inches.

Tony sighed. “I’m sorry, kid. I lost my temper, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Peter shrugged again, edging further away.

Damn it.

“Really, Pete, you’re gonna stay mad at me for this?”

Peter straightened up and met Tony’s eyes with a fierce glare. “You’re not gonna listen to me no matter what I say, so why should I even talk to you?”

“What makes you think I won’t listen?”

“Maybe everything you’ve said until now?”

“I’m just worried about you, kid.”

“You’re such a hypocrite,” Peter snapped. “You’re freaking Iron Man, you spent years running around in a suit saving the world, and when I try to do the same thing, you blow up at me!”

Tony deflated. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Peter.”

Peter glowered at him. “You didn’t. And that’s not even the point!”

“I promise I’ll let you talk, okay? No more blowing up.”

Peter’s angry expression faded to one of uncertainty, and Tony couldn’t help but reach out again to wrap an arm around the kid’s shoulders. Tony breathed a sigh of relief when Peter didn’t pull back, and he held the kid there for a few moments, rubbing his shoulder with his thumb.

“I hate it when you yell,” Peter mumbled, staring at his lap. Tony’s heart constricted, and he felt like the worst person on the planet.

“I know, buddy. I’m sorry.” He stroked the kid’s wet hair away from his forehead. Peter shivered slightly in his grip, and Tony squeezed tighter. If only he could hold his kid like this forever, and wrap him in cotton wool while he was at it. But he couldn’t, because the kid pulled away a few moments later, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

“Would you really have shot your repulsor at me?” Peter asked, not quite meeting Tony’s eyes.

Tony sighed, regret pooling in his stomach. “No, kiddo, I was- it was just a scare tactic. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known it was you.”

“Oh,” Peter said quietly, his shoulders loosening minutely.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Peter nodded, and he took several breaths before speaking. Tony felt his eyebrows raise steadily throughout the kid’s monologue, and he nearly jumped out of his seat when Peter demonstrated his ability to stick to things by scrambling up the wall and crawling across the ceiling.

“Holy shit! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Peter dropped from the ceiling to land lightly in a crouch. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“What else can you do?” asked Tony trepidatiously, his heart still thudding.

“Uh, well, I can do this.” And Peter once again nearly sent Tony to an early grave by lifting the bed over his head with Tony still on it, and Tony decidedly did not let out an embarrassingly high-pitched yell as he clung to the bedding in shock.

Peter carefully set the bed back down with another sheepish smile. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Tony breathlessly. “Considering you’ve caught buses in your bare hands.”

“You saw the video?” Peter asked, surprised.

“It went viral. Obviously I did.”

“But you’re, like, old.”

Tony glared at him. “Now is not the time for jokes, kid.”

“Sorry,” Peter said, chastened.

“And the webs?” Tony gestured towards Peter’s wrists. Peter fumbled through the drawer of his night table and pulled out a pair of rectangular metal containers.

“Webshooters,” Peter said, sitting back down and handing them to Tony. “I made them.”

Tony turned them in his hands, impressed. He could hear liquid sloshing around inside when he shook them.

“This is really something, kid. Really impressive.” Tony held the webshooter closer to his ear, shaking it again. “You’ll have to show me the formula for this stuff. Tensile strength is off the charts, from what I’ve seen.

Peter shot him a pleased, if shy grin, and Tony handed them back, fascination retreating in the face of his anxiety returning in full force.

He rolled back his shoulders, trying to ease the tension. “Why are you doing this, Peter?”

Peter tilted his head confusedly. “Same reason as you.”

Tony shook his head. “I do what I do to make up for years of war-mongering. At least I did in the beginning. What reason do you have to-”

“I’m not making up for anything,” said Peter, furrowing his brow. “It’s just- I was helpless for so long, you know?” He looked at his lap. “I saw so many people in pain, and I couldn’t do anything for them. I couldn’t even help MJ.” His voice cracked, his jaw working for a moment before he forcibly straightened his back.

“But now that I have these powers, how can I not use them to help people?” He looked at Tony imploringly, as though begging him to understand.

“Look, buddy, I get it, I really do.” He wished he didn’t. “But you have to understand why I’m worried, here. You do, don’t you?” He tried to draw Peter back into his gaze, but the kid’s eyes had dropped again.

“I guess…”

“If something happens to you, Peter, that’s on me.”

Peter’s eyes shot up. “It’s not your probl-”

“The hell it’s not!”

“Why does it matter so much?” asked Peter, clenching his fists around the bed sheet.

“Because you’re my kid!”

Peter’s mouth contorted. “Not really, though. You never asked for this.”

Tony’s chest tightened, and he grabbed Peter’s shoulders, perhaps harder than he meant to, and turned the kid to look him in the eye. Peter stared back, wide-eyed, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re right,” Tony started. “I didn’t ask for this. But I got it, and now I have you, and I really, really need you not to die on me.”

I love you, Peter, goddammit.

He couldn’t say it. The words were stuck in his throat, choking him, and it made his eyes water and his nose sting.

Peter stared at him unblinkingly for a long moment, while Tony breathed deeply, trying to regain control of himself. The kid then wrapped his hands around Tony’s wrists, which were still pressed against his shoulders, and squeezed gently before pulling them down. Ignoring the painful jolt in his chest, Tony drew back, but Peter lurched forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Tony’s chest.

Tony gasped for a moment before relaxing, and he reached over to hug Peter back, squeezing even more tightly.

“I won’t die if you won’t,” Peter said against his neck.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, cupping a hand on the nape of Peter’s neck.

“It’s a deal,” he said thickly.

Peter pulled away after a few moments, watching Tony carefully.

“We’re still not finished here, Pete,” Tony said tiredly.

“I know,” Peter said to his lap. Tony lifted his chin to catch his eye, then pulled his hand back to rest it on his lap.

“I get it,” said Tony heavily. “And I’m not gonna stop you. Doubt I could if I tried.”

“Thank you, Tony! I-” Peter stopped mid sentence when Tony lifted his hand.

“That doesn’t mean there won’t be ground rules,” Tony said sternly. The kid deflated slightly, but he didn’t look away. “And if you ever hide something like this from me again, you’ll be grounded forever, you hear me? Literally forever.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter said softly.

“Hey, none of that,” Tony chided. “It’s still Tony, even when I’m pissed at you.”

Peter bit his lip. “You’re still mad?”

Tony let out a shallow breath. “I’m not happy about you keeping this from me. I’m not gonna pretend you sneaking around to jump in front of buses and lying about it doesn’t piss me the hell off.”

Peter hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to piss you off. That’s not what- I wasn’t trying to- I just thought you wouldn’t let me do it.” He stared at the floor, his hands twisting on his lap.

“I hear you,” said Tony gently, resting his palm on Peter’s hands. “But you need to trust me, okay? I can’t take care of you if I don’t know what the hell is actually going on.”

“I’m sorry, Tony,” said Peter, meeting his eyes. “I’ll- I’ll be better-”

“You’re already good enough, Peter, you don’t need to be better. You just need to be honest with me. Capisce?”

Peter smiled. “Capisce.”

“All righty.” Tony gave him a pat on the shoulder before standing up. “C’mon, bud, we got work to do.”

Peter tilted his head confusedly. “What work?”

“You think I’m gonna let you save cats from trees in your PJs? Nuh uh. We’re making a new suit for you. Only the best for my kids.”

The excitement on Peter’s face made Tony’s imminent future of sleepless nights worth it.