Chapter Text
The New Stark
Stark Industries’ Stock On A Rollercoaster
Iron Man Or Iron DAD?
Stark’s Reckless Party Life Caught Up To Him
Getting A Kid As A Publicity Stunt?
Is Your Kid A Stark? Find Out Now!
There Is a New Stark In Town – For Real
Iron Man Told Us Not To Talk About His Son, So Here’s A Post About Puppies!
Peter clicks on the last article, hoping that the puppies Buzzfeed chose will at least distract him enough from Tony’s passive-aggressive phone call he can hear through the thin walls of the Parker apartment (Not that he really needs his super-hearing for that because a) the walls are thin and b) Tony gets loud when he gets passive-aggressive and Pepper isn’t there to reign him in).
“I would say I have been very clear on that matter on Friday. Oh, great, you got that video. Then why do I need to tell you this again? No! No interview with my son! No stalking my son’s school! No hiring a private investigator to find out more about him!”
May sighs deeply and makes a move to grab the newspaper, only to stop and realize that Tony had already thrown it away. She sighs again and takes a long sip of her coffee, probably wondering if she can just kick Iron Man out of their apartment. Considering he has a key and had installed their entire security system, it’s probably a no. Peter scrolls down on the page, mindlessly reading the definitely not-article about the press conference.
Iron Man himself, Tony Stark, forbad everyone from talking about the shocking press conference last Friday where he announced that the kidnapped boy from the video of a criminal blackmailing Stark is his son. So, we are definitely not talking about it! How about some puppies instead?
There is a picture of two golden retriever puppies rolling in fresh, green grass.
“Oh, do you really want to know what I’ll do if I find out you’re creeping around my kid?”
If we were talking about that press conference – which we aren’t, this is solely about puppies – we would tell you that Stark basically threatened everyone in the room and watching if they decided to hassle his son.
“What are you looking at?” May asks, ignoring Tony’s colorful description of what exactly he would do to the poor man or woman on the other line of the phone.
“Puppies,” Peter answers, scrolling past a chihuahua puppy sleeping on his back.
“We’re not getting a puppy.”
“That’s why I need to give all my love to pictures of puppies.” A border collie puppy with his head tilted to the right side.
“No, you better think about this. Do you want to land on Iron Man’s bad side? And War Machines by default? Not to mention the bad side of Pepper Potts – oh, she totally would. She’s basically just waiting for any of you idiots to make the tiniest of mistakes.”
We’re also not telling you that Stark explained he was forced to talk about his son and expose him to the publicity because of the afore mentioned video and all of the media coverage, especially the reporters who hinted at their relationship to be the opposite of father and son.
A labradoodle puppy photographed midair, trying to catch a ball that was hitting him in the face.
The press conference we’re not talking about was very short, no questions allowed. Stark gave no details about his kid and made very real promises that nobody would want to find out anything about him or else. He also declared the first interview with his son will be with a news company that decided not to cover this.
In front of the backdrop of the setting sun, a colorful crossbreed puppy yawned.
Good thing we’re not reporting on it, right?
The last picture is a dark grey pit bull puppy cuddling with an Iron Man plushie.
Suddenly, the phone is snatched out of his hands. “What did I tell you about reading any news articles?” Tony asks, still sounding pretty irked, though Peter knows it isn’t because of him.
“I wasn’t reading news articles, I was looking at puppies.”
Tony raises one eyebrow and looks at the screen, quickly scanning it. “Do I have to ban looking at puppies, too?”
“Well, if you get me a real puppy, I’ll stop looking at their pictures.”
“No puppy,” May only comments, ending the discussion successfully. Tony huffs out a breath, giving Peter his phone back before turning to the coffee machine. “And no tinkering with any of my stuff unless it’s broken.”
“May, dear, just because something isn’t broken doesn’t mean it can’t be improved.”
May shakes her head, not buying anything Tony says. “This isn’t you improving things, it’s you being nervous and needing an outlet. My coffee machine will not suffer because of it. Find something else to do.”
Peter snorts at Tony’s pout, and is rewarded with a half-serious glare. “Hush, Underoos, and eat your breakfast. Appreciate the bagels I bought.”
It’s Monday morning, and Tony let himself into their apartment at five of six in the morning with a bag full of fresh bagels in his hand, hellbent on driving Peter to school today. Because today is his first day back at school after being kidnapped – and after Tony had revealed that Peter is his son.
The press conference was a disaster – at least according to the PR department and Pepper Potts. Tony ignored close to every sentence of the already written and approved statement they had prepared beforehand. Instead, he cut right to the chase, telling everyone that the boy in the video was his son, and that he only had said that because the media hadn’t respected his or Peter’s privacy – only with a lot less child-friendly words. Then, the threats had started.
By the time Tony left the stage, Pepper looked like she was about to rip his head off. Tony had to sweet-talk and apologize to her for over an hour for her to calm some of her fiery anger. In the meantime, everyone else had already started on damage control. Peter’s private phone number had been changed, all his social media accounts had been switched to private, and literally ten lawyers had started looking through comments, searching for anyone who claimed to have more information about Peter and pouncing on them.
Through it all, Peter has been relatively calm, rather focusing on his father who had tried surviving his fiancée’s anger (who wanted to literally rip his head off and seemed angry enough to actually do it) instead of thinking about how his life had once again turned upside down in a matter of minutes.
But with every hour that brought him closer to this morning, Peter’s anxiety grew. Last night, he hadn’t slept at all, his heart beating in his throat and making him nauseous, a thousand thoughts a second had running through his mind. Over the weekend, he had been pretty shielded from the world around him, not dealing with the consequences of the press conference at all. But now? Now there is no way to escape.
Unless, of course, he could just stop going to school. Which is something Tony suggested on multiple occasions. Not that anyone really listened to that suggestion in the past, but now… Now it doesn’t sound as crazy to him as before.
The adults around him all know how nervous Peter really is, despite him trying to hide it. He waits for the very obvious I told you so about him not thinking this through or making a rash decision, but they all keep quiet. It’s just as unnerving as the entire situation itself.
Peter bites off a piece of his bagel, not really tasting it and not really hungry, forcing himself to swallow it down. The anxiety inside his chest is building up again, choking him and nearly causing him to spit out the piece of bread in his mouth.
Oh God, why did he agree to this?
Suddenly, someone is squeezing his hand, and when Peter looks up, Tony gives him a small smile. “Breathe, Peter. That’s all you need to do.”
This. This is why he agreed to it. Because he wants Tony in his life, because after already losing two father-figures in his life, he is going to hold on to this one as tight as he can. Because he doesn’t want some nasty rumors to be the reason he has to keep his distance from Tony.
Peter exhales. “Yeah, right.”
“You need to go if you want to avoid the rush hour,” May points out, her eyes straying over to the clock on the wall – the one that covers up the hole Tony shot into the wall when Clint had paid them a visit.
“Alright,” Tony announces, clapping in his hands twice and ushering Peter to his feet. “Up and at ‘em, right?”
Peter just hopes his breakfast will stay down. “Y-Yeah.”
Tony is already typing away something on his phone and walking towards the door, giving May and Peter some privacy. As soon as Peter stands up, May engulfs him in a hug. “Hey, you’re going to be fine.”
“Totally.”
“Now, it will probably be weird-“ which is the understatement of the century, “- but just know that you’re not alone in this. We all have your back, okay?”
“Then why do I have to go to school alone?”
“Don’t say that too loud or Tony will literally follow you inside and stay for the rest of the day.”
“Oh, please dare me to do it!” Tony yells from across the apartment. “I can’t wait to talk to your Physics teacher about those ridiculous assignments you got!”
It coaxes a laugh out of Peter and May, and she presses a kiss against his forehead. “I larb you.”
“Larb you, too. And you’ll be okay at work, right?” When Peter made his decision, he’d been selfishly thinking about himself, about what he wanted. He hadn’t thought about May, who had been spammed with messages from her friends and co-workers all weekend long, all of them recognizing Peter from the pictures May showed them all the time.
“Of course, I will be. Besides, I’ve sure as heck covered enough of their shifts for them to owe me some ‘not-asking-questions’ favors.” Peter snorts, thinking back to all the times May had complained about covering another shift. And she had covered a lot of shifts. However, before Peter gets the chance to make a comment, May squeezes his shoulders a little bit, demanding his attention. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine. And if push really comes to shove, you have all the back-up you need. Jim reached out to me. The entire precinct saw the interview, and they’re all ready to jump into action if you need them to. They remember the times you convinced Ben to buy donuts for everyone and not eat them himself.”
Despite all his anxiety, Peter actually laughs. “That’s good to know. An entire precinct might be less attention-grabbing than Iron Man.”
“Well, unless you want Iron Man dropping you off in front of your school with a lot of attention, we need to leave now,” Tony yells, mock-offended.
Both Parkers laugh again and May presses another kiss to his forehead before she hands him his (new) backpack. With his heart still beating in his throat, Peter steps into the small hallway, moving over to his father who is waiting by the front door. “Got everything?” Peter nods.
Tony made him a new watch after Barrett had pretty much destroyed the first one, and this one is a lot more resistant, with an automatic alarm implanted the second anyone without Peter’s fingerprints tries to take it off. Helen also gave him some medicine that will hopefully counteract the two different alien energies in his body. Nobody has really any idea what’s going to happen with them or what they may do to his body, and it had made everyone nervous. However, Peter feels pretty normal. Expect, of course, for the unnormal amount of nervousness and anxiety inside his chest.
His Spider-Man suit isn’t in his backpack, which is new. Normally, Peter always winds down by going on patrol after school, getting rid of all the energy that built up during the first half of the day before returning home to do his homework. But with so much attention on his face, they decided it’s better to not take the risk of someone following Peter after school into an alley and seeing him change into his iconic suit.
A small part of Peter can’t help but feel a bit vulnerable because of it, even though he knows it’s nonsense. The suit is just a piece of very expensive fabric, and if he really needs to defend himself, he always has his powers. Plus, Tony can (and will) be by his side in a couple of minutes if he needs him.
They climb down the seven flights of stairs in silence before taking the side entrance and walking over to the car. Peter can feel Tony’s mood darken quite a lot, and he has to bite his lip to keep the smile from spreading across his face. “I know I already told you,” Tony murmurs, not low enough that Peter wouldn’t catch it, as he manually unlocks the car, “but I really hate you. Just want to put it out there, so we both know where we stand.”
This time, Peter can’t suppress the snort as he waits while Tony unlocks and opens the passenger door from the inside of the car, leaning over from the driver’s seat. It’s not new that the billionaire talks to literally any kind of machine in his reach, no matter if there’s an AI in them or not. Peter got used to it a long time ago, and more often than not he notices that he’s started to copy that particular habit, sweet-talking the toaster into not burning the bread.
Tony got a new car. Well, not a new car. This is the first thing Tony had ever bought that already had a former owner – or, in this car’s case, five owners. Three of those had sworn the car is haunted. The car itself is a couple of years older than Peter, a Ford, the dark green paint flaking off to reveal spots of rust underneath it, with too many dents in the car to count them all.
The inside of it isn’t any better. The radio is broken, probably beyond repair. The ventilation starts to rattle really annoyingly whenever you turn it up above the lowest setting. Peter’s sensitive nose picks up several smells at once – old cigarette smoke, different types of greasy food, some sweet soft drink that had probably been spilled, a hint of vomit, and a lot of magic tree air fresheners in various smells to drown out the other smells. Tony hasn’t looked under the hood yet, but judging by the noises the car makes, Peter can’t imagine it’ll be a pretty sight.
This car is the complete opposite of what Tony usually chooses in a car, and that’s the point. No paparazzi would ever see this car and think of the billionaire, who is very much known for his love of the newest, most expensive models by Audi. They hope that it’ll throw everyone off their trail for at least a little while.
“I hate you so much,” Tony keeps whispering as the engine stubbornly refuses to turn on, and instead fills the small space with a gargling sound. “So. Much.”
“C’mon, the car isn’t that bad,” Peter says, but even he can’t keep a straight face while claiming it.
“I hope you appreciate this,” Tony comments, as the car finally jumps to life, and he pulls out into traffic. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.”
“I know. This,” Peter gently pats the glove box, not wanting the car to go crazy because he’s using too much strength, “is a true testament that you love me. I love you, too.”
“Well, you better!” Despite the somewhat harsh tone, Tony can’t hide the little smile on his face. However, it quickly disappears when the car makes yet another sound. “I’m telling you, the second I drop you off at school, I’ll take this piece of crap into the workshop and fix it. It only has to look like a piece of crap, but that doesn’t mean that it actually has to be one. And you sure as hell won’t get any driving lessons in this until I made some improvements.” Peter will also get driving lessons in this car, seeing that its condition can’t actually get any worse, and he already feels so much more relaxed about driving knowing he isn’t going to trash one of Tony’s expensive cars.
For a while, they drive in silence – except, of course, for the noises the car makes and Tony’s constant swearing about said car or about people who apparently don’t know how to drive properly – and slowly, Peter’s anxiety creeps back into his head. Is all of this really a good idea? Should he have thought about it more? He may have a spidey sense, but doesn’t mean he has common sense. Maybe he should’ve let Pepper make this decision. She’s so good at making decisions. What bad decisions has she ever made? Peter’s made a ton of bad decisions and-
“Hey, stop that.”
Peter whips his head around to Tony, who gives him a quick glance. “What?”
“I can basically feel you worrying.”
“Can you blame me?”
For a second, it looks like Tony wants to say something, probably some snarky comment, but he stops and gives him a longer look, taking advantage of the red light they’re currently waiting at. Peter grows squirm-ish under that look. He may had gained more confidence in their relationship, believing that Tony won’t drop him the second he sees a flaw in the boy or if Peter gets too annoying or inconvenient or is simply not cool enough, but that doesn’t mean he’s not afraid of disappointing Tony. And him being Iron Man and Peter’s hero for most of his life doesn’t make things any easier. Besides, Tony asked him a few times if he’s sure about his decision. What if he’s secretly disappointed in him and hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt his feelings?
Man, Peter really needs to get a grip on all of this over-thinking.
“If you want to bail, we can totally do that,” Tony answers as the traffic light jumps from red to green. “I won’t tell May or Pepper. We just tell them I dropped you off and that some very urgent meeting came up or something, and then we drive to… well, I would say Disney Land, but I’m not sure if this piece of shit will actually make it that far. But, don’t worry, we’ll find another fun place.”
Peter wants to laugh at the joke, but he can’t. The anxiety inside him is just too much. “Did I make a mistake?” Peter asks. “And I want your honest opinion. Not one that just spares my feelings or something like that. Just-“ He takes another deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves down. It doesn’t help. Instead, he turns his head back to Tony, his eyes pleading. “Did I make a mistake?”
Tony doesn’t answer immediately, which feels like a very loud Yes, you made a very big mistake, who told you you’re smart, because that was downright stupid. Peter tries to reason that it’s just a stupid voice in his head, making groundless accusations, but the longer his father is silent, the more nervous he gets.
Oh God, is he going to throw up? It’s not like the car can smell any worse, so will it make that much of a difference?
Luckily before Peter can throw up the sorry excuse of a breakfast he had this morning, Tony starts talking. “If I’m being selfish, then I don’t think you made a mistake,” he says, voice low and steady, a lifeline Peter can hold onto. “We had two realistic options: keep quiet and meet in secret, or go public and live on like we did before – with a few changes, of course. But, Peter, I really don’t want to keep this quiet.” Tony gives him a quick smile. “I mean, I’ve been dying to tell everyone about my brilliant son who will definitely give me a run for my money one day. Before now, I’ve been holding back because it would be weird for me to brag about my intern that much, so don’t even think for a nanosecond that I regret letting the world know you’re my kid, okay?”
“Okay,” Peter echoes in a hoarse voice, the warmth that’s slowly spreading from his chest through his entire body banishing the loud, anxious voice in his head.
“What I do regret is that we couldn’t do it on our terms. But that’s absolutely not your fault, kiddo. If anything, it’s Barrett’s fault. Or the media’s, with their insatiable need to find a new story.” Tony gives him a short but meaningful look. “This entire mess is not your fault. Even if we hadn’t told them the truth, but some half-lie about you being my personal intern or whatever, they wouldn’t have stopped. Reporters – not all of them, but some – can be like animals, pouncing at the slightest hint of something that sounds like an exciting headline, something that will get them a lot of attention, and ripping everyone involved to pieces, not caring if those people deserve it or not.”
In that moment, they make a left turn and see the school – the school that is absolutely swamped. Security has been doubled (paid for by Tony, as well as the still ongoing repairs to the cafeteria, the catering service, and a very hefty donation). Half of them are busy keeping the sea of reports away, the other half is shielding the students from their cameras and escorting them inside. A few of Peter’s school mates look at the cameras and screaming reporters with big eyes, but most of them try to keep their head low and hide behind the broad frames of the security personal, ignoring the attention-seeking adult around them.
Immediately, Peter starts to feel absolutely awful. It’s his fault everyone has to go through this.
“It’s not your fault,” Tony says as they drive past the front entrance and towards the back entrance.
“Did I say that out loud?” Despite him trying his best, Peter can’t tear his eyes away from the commotion, only able to look away when they’re out of sight.
“No, but you’re an open book when you start to worry.” Tony pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns the engine off.
That’s it. The moment Peter has been dreading for the last few days.
The moment Peter has to face the consequences of his actions.
His father turns towards him, sniffing soundlessly once. “Hey, you got this.”
“Sure,” he answers, his voice not one but two octaves higher. “…maybe?”
“I liked that confidence from a second ago better.” The laugh gets stuck in Peter’s throat, but the anxiety inside him spreads like wildfire, spinning one catastrophic scenario after the other.
“Is it too late to drive to Disney Land?”
Tony cocks his head to the side. “This is a trick question, right? I’m supposed to say it’s too late, so you don’t run away from this.”
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Peter says, bending forward to bury his face into his hands.
“Think of it this way, the car can’t smell any worse.”
“Oh God.”
“Hey, kid.” Tony’s hand lands on Peter’s exposed neck, this palm and fingers calloused and roughened from decades of working with his hands and oh so comforting. The simple touch slows Peter’s anxious thoughts down, and when he begins to rub his thumb over his nape, he brushes away one bad thought after the other. “You can do this. Compared to all the other stuff you did, this is nothing.”
“Spider-Man did those things, not Peter Parker.”
“I thought we already had the conversation about Peter Parker being the real superhero.” Peter takes another deep breath, doing every technique he knows to keep himself as calm as possible. “Look at me, Peter.” He does look up, right into Tony’s face, which is sporting a small but sincere smile. “I know this is scary. People will talk. They will point at you. They will suddenly start talking to you and act like you’re their best friend. People will change how they behave around you, for the better and the worst. But nothing of what they say matters, because you know what’s true, okay?” Somehow, Peter manages to nod. “Do you know what’s true?”
Peter shakes his head.
“You’re my son. I love you, and I’m so proud of you. Nothing that anyone says will change that. That is the truth, and that’s the only thing you need to remember.” Tony looks at him, eyes deadly serious like he’s trying to burn the meaning of the words into Peter’s head until he finally accepts them.
Slowly, the anxiety inside him stops spreading. Breathing gets easier again.
“Okay,” Peter finally croaks out. “I love you, too, Dad.”
The teen isn’t quite sure if Tony is aware of the grin that appears before he leans over and presses a quick kiss against his forehead. “You got this.”
“Yeah. Totally.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Peter doubts he has the spirit, but he grabs his backpack and climbs out of the car. For a second, he just stands there, staring at the building he spent already so many days in, knowing it will never be the same again once he steps inside.
But it’s a good change, a voice at the back of his head says. Yes, this is good change. However, that doesn’t mean it isn’t scary. Channeling his inner Spider-Man, Peter takes a deep breath. He got this. He can do this. Piece of cake. As long as his breakfast stays down and he doesn’t throw up in the middle of the class.
Looking back, he gives Tony a shaky smile. “Talk to you later?”
Tony’s smile is beaming. “Of course.”
Then, Peter steps towards the school, heart beating in his throat.