Archive of Our Own

The world was shaking. An earthquake. It had to be an earthquake. In New York? It didn’t make sense, but that didn’t matter. The pole he was standing on was swaying from the tremors in the ground and he felt like he was going to fall.

Spider-Man looked around. The other New Yorkers below him seemed unfazed by this natural phenomenon. No one was screaming, running, or looking for shelter. As matter of fact, they were all just standing there. Staring at him.

Was he the one shaking?

“MURDERER!” someone shouted, bringing him back to reality.

The video. The video on The Daily Bugle. The one that Beck had planted to make Peter look like the one behind the attack in London. The one that exposed his identity.

The world was spinning again.

“Get out of here Spider-Man!” another voice cried. It sounded an awful lot like MJ, but he didn’t have time to think about it before things started to be hurled at him. Shoes, newspapers, drinks, it didn’t matter. The New Yorkers were pissed.

Peter used his web-shooters to get him a couple blocks away to the top of a lofty building, which didn’t help his light-headiness, but at least he wasn’t being attacked. As he started to process what happened, his heart rate skyrocketed, his breathing following in suit.

“Peter, it appears you are having a panic attack. You would like me to call Mr. Stark?” his A.I. spoke suddenly.

The reminder of Tony’s dire state pushed Peter over the edge. He immediately collapsed in on himself, ripping off his mask and allowing tears to pour from his eyes until he could hardly see.

God, it seemed like the only thing he’d done since Tony stopped Thanos was mess up; was prove that he was nothing more than a child. An Iron Man wannabe. Maybe Beck was right…maybe…

“Cause I’m happyyyyyy. Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof. Because I’m Happppyyyyy. Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth.”

Pharrell Williams suddenly blaring from his phone interrupted his dire thoughts. Peter fumbled for the device, which was tucked in some secret compartment his suit had for emergencies.

“Happy?” Peter answered the call, trying, and failing, to get himself together.

“Kid, where are you? If you haven’t yet, go check the news. Quintin, the bastard, he exposed you. We need to get you somewhere safe. Come to the Tower. Or, actually, the Compound. I have people going to pick up May already.” Happy rambled. Although he seemed calm, Peter knew he was worried, maybe even more than during the whole Europe trip. Realizing that did not help Peter’s own fear from swallowing him whole.

“Happy? H-Hap-py,” Peter sputtered, choking on a sob stuck halfway in his throat. He tried to take a deep breath and calm down, but his lungs felt paralyzed. They were heavy rocks in his chest; unable to completely expand and contract enough for him to get a decent amount of oxygen.

“I, I can’t- I can’t breathe,” he managed to spit into the phone, pressing it flush against his face to keep it from slipping out the grip of his sweaty palms.

“Kid? Kid? Peter, just…just stay there, I’ll find you. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will track your phone. I’m coming to get you.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a second Peter thought Happy had hung up. A storm of uncertainty and fear began to swirl around in Peter’s head, battering his mind. He couldn’t be alone right now. He couldn’t –

“Do you remember the breathing exercises Tony taught you?” A voice interrupted, anchoring him down in the fog of panic.

Peter nodded, even though the older man couldn’t see him. He tried to inhale slowly, but only managed to produce a fit of coughs.

“I- I can’t,” he wheezed.

“Focus on me. I’m going to breathe with you, okay?” Happy then proceeded to inhale slowly, making sure it was dramatic enough for the kid to hear over his mess of thoughts.

Peter copied him; breaths still ragged.

“Now exhale.”

Again, Peter copied.

“Good. Let’s do that a couple more times, alright?”

The pair did 7 or 8 sets of breathing before Happy felt confident enough that the kid could talk again. “Now, tell me four things you can see.”

“Uhh, the blue sky, my red suit, the silver skyscrapers, and uh, these gray pigeons next to me.”

“Three things you can hear?”

“The cars below, your voice, and an A/C unit on a nearby building.”

“Two things you can touch?”

“The rough concrete of this roof and my sleek Stark Phone.”

Happy smiled on the other end, noticing Peter beginning to calm down. “There. Do you feel any better?”

“A little. How long until you get here?” Peter answered, the ability to think clearly finally returning.

“ETA five minutes. Do you think you can come off that roof for me? Maybe into an adjoining alley? It’ll make things easier,” Happy asked.

Peter took in a shaky breath of air, worried about what leaving this roof would mean. Scared to face reality.

“I think so. But can you…can you stay on the line?” He asked nervously.

“Of course. How about I tell you about the first time I tried to talk Tony out of a panic attack while you come down? It’s kind of a funny story,” Happy replied gently.

“Okay.” Peter said, hands trembling as he started to crawl down the building.

Peter woke up from this memory with his hands still trembling. His identity reveal had been over a month ago and he still would rise most mornings panicked over dreams he had about that fateful day.

He took a moment to practice taking deep breaths, something that had become a much-needed skill in the last month and a half, before finally sitting up and brushing the sweat out of his hair.

For a moment, Peter allowed himself to watch the shadows in the room flicker against the light of his arc-reactor night light. Technically, he didn’t need a night light with his enhanced sense of sight the way it was, but it brought him comfort anyway. Morgan had given it to him as a gift when he first moved into the lake house and kept waking himself up screaming from nightmares.

Peter’s eyes drifted from the nightlight to the window, where sunlight was beginning to stream through the cracks between the blinds. Although it was a fitful night’s sleep, at least he had slept. It just so happened that the bed Tony had put in for him at the lake house was incredibly soft and comfortable, especially to someone who stretched their muscles swinging as much as he does…or did.

Peter hadn’t been out as Spider-Man since the reveal. Instead of taking the Spiderling to the newly rebought Stark Tower, or to the newly rebuilt Avengers Compound, Happy had taken Peter into the middle of nowhere and directly to the only person in the universe who could possibly fix the mess that they were in: the incredible Tony Stark.

Peter had arrived at the lake house only days after Tony had been allowed to start walking around by his live-in Wakandan doctors. King T'Challa assigned them to him during his recovery from the Snap. Although the two geniuses had only seen each other a handful of times since the final battle with Thanos, with Tony being incapacitated in the hospital and all, there was no awkwardness at all whatsoever. They were immediately inseparable. Tony was physically frail and Peter mentally just as much, so they leaned on each other.

“Shhhh, Underoos. It’s going to be alright. We can fix this. I’m here, and I’ll always be here for you. This will be a walk in the park compared to saving you from Thanos. You’ll see,” Tony had whispered in the Spider-Boy’s ear when Peter had practically fallen apart in his arms.

And true to his word, Tony had been there every step of the way. The Star Wars themed room that Peter sat in now reminded him of that. Peter had been so apologetic to Tony for needing a safe place for he and May to stay that he nearly balked when Tony had told him he already had a room created and designed just for him a long time ago. He, the nerdy Peter Parker, had his own place in the Stark lake house!

“I needed space to keep all your stuff when you and May disappeared,” Tony had remarked casually, trying to downplay how deep his hurt had actually been during the five years that Peter was gone. “So, it only made sense to just give you your own room rather than store your stuff away. And having your memory around gave Morgan someone to look up to, you could say. Someone way better a role model than me…but only when you’re not trying to get yourself killed or anything like that. Which, by the way, is more frequently than I would like.”

Peter smiled, remembering his mentor’s words. Tony had become so much more open since having a child of his own to raise, but sometimes he still shied away from expressing how much he cared for Peter, which was an enigma to the high schooler, but Peter tried to be respectful of that.

Finally awake enough to start the day, Peter jumped out of bed, cringing as the chill of the hardwood cabin floors seeped into the soles of his feet and up his legs. He often forgot how cold mornings in New York could be, even in the summer. Cold to him, at least. His thermoregulation had not been the best since the spider bite. He was usually beneath so many layers of blankets or snuggled in one of Tony’s warmest MIT hoodies that he hardly took notice.

Regardless of the chill, Peter still pushed through getting ready for the day, simultaneously also trying to smoother the night’s anxiety and keep it from clawing at his gut.

I bet I’m just hungry, he thought to himself, padding out of room and to the kitchen.

Peter walked in on what would have been a strange sight to anyone else, but was typical in this Stark household, tucked away and hidden from the media’s prying eyes

Tony was wearing a “Kiss The Chef” apron and was flipping chocolate chip pancakes, singing loudly to try and capture his wife and daughter’s attention.

“Volare oh, oh. Cantare oh, oh,” the older man belted out. Lyrics to one of his favorite Italian songs, Peter recognized. Nel blu di pinto di blu (Volare) by Domenico Modugno.

Pepper, who was reading something on a Stark Pad, hardly looked up at his antics, only offering a sliver of a smile. Morgan rewarded him with giggle but didn’t stop what she furiously was coloring at the table.

It was so weird to see the eccentric billionaire be so domestic, sometimes even for Peter, and the two of them had spent countless nights eating pizza and watching movies on demand until they both fell asleep on the couch, which was as domestic as it used to get for Tony.

The uneasy feeling growled in Peter’s stomach once again.

Peter wasn’t sure what was causing his anxiety. His Spidey Sense wasn’t going off, yet he couldn’t escape the feeling that he wasn’t safe. That this wasn’t real.

He hesitated in the doorway, thinking about going back to his room and taking another shower, a cold shower, when Tony noticed him.

“Hey, kiddo! I hope your bottomless pit of a stomach is ready to eat breakfast, because I’m making your favorite chocolate chip pancakes,” Tony said.

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

No, not now, he thought, heart beginning to race.

The teen decided to try again, but same as before, his body just left him gaping in the doorway, no sound allowed to leave his voice box.

The two geniuses stood there a minute, just staring at each other. When Peter was finally able to clamp his jaw closed, he pursed his lips and swallowed thickly; tongue a heavy, dry weight in his mouth. A light sheen of nervous sweat appeared at his hairline, and he had to resist the urge to wipe it away.

Tony watched how the kid eyed him cautiously, his parental alarm bells going off.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, are you ignoring me? Come on, you hungry or what?” He asked in a teasing manner, taking a step towards his kid.

Peter just flinched in response, looking like he wanted to run but was glued to the ground.

This wasn’t the first time Peter seemed, well, stuck. As a matter of fact, it was a fairly common occurrence since he moved in with them. It didn’t take the billionaire long to figure out it had something to do with Quintin Beck and his malicious use of E.D.I.T.H.’s hologram projection abilities.

Tony bit the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing Beck’s name. He could feel his arrhythmic heart rate increase at the image of Quentin, blood bubbling to a hot boil, his breath a little heavy. The whole situation just wasn’t fair.

Screw that man! He hissed inside his own mind.

Peter didn’t often want to talk about what had happened in Europe, but Tony knew the illusions his enemy had used against him had not been pretty. Peter was still reeling over what was truly reality and what was not. It was as if he was sometimes in a different dimension formed just for him by the reality stone. Although, part of that was brought on by his fear and anxiety of the still recent identity reveal.

“Hey, you know what I just thought of?” Tony started, redirecting the conversation. “I don’t often say your full name, but it reminded me of your parents. Get this: what if your mother hadn’t married your father? No, I know it sounds weird, but hear me out. Then instead of Peter Benjamin Parker, you’d be Peter Benjamin Fitzpatrick! And I just don’t know how to feel about that.”

His words were absolutely silly and ridiculous, but the older man immediately saw the super-kid relax just a little in his shoulders, the color in his knuckles rushing back as he loosened his grip on the doorframe.

It took him a moment, but Peter eventually started to creep into the kitchen a tiny smile forming on his face.

Thanks, Tony, Peter thought.

May and the Starks were getting really good at working little things into their sentences that would remind Peter that they were real. Things that only they would know, or more importantly, things that Beck wouldn’t know. Things that proved that this was reality and not another illusion. Like his mother’s maiden name.

“I don’t know, I don’t think Peter Fitzpatrick sounds that bad,” the kid finally replied, only just a little delayed.

Morgan wrinkled her nose from her spot at the table, looking up from her work for the first time that morning.

“It sounds silly,” she said.

Peter feigned offence, scoffing at the little girl, “Oh yeah? And what would you rather my last name be other than Parker?”

“Stark,” she said simply.

Everyone else in the room froze. No one dared reply to that. It was such a dramatic change in atmosphere that even Morgan was aware enough to squirm under the uncomfortable pressure of it all.

“What?” She asked, as if her simple statement didn’t hold so much emotion behind it. “If you were a Stark, then you’d get to be my real brother.”

Peter smiled at that; of the lack of understanding of biology that stems from early childhood innocence. He strolled over to Morgan and before she had time to react, plucked her out of the chair and spun her in the air, reducing her to nothing but a fit of giggles.

“Morgs, I don’t have to be a Stark to be your brother. I will always be your big brother, okay? Don’t you forget it,” he said with a wink.

Tony was moved by the scene, little pin pricks of tears forming at the crow-footed edges of his eyes as his daughter reached up and gave Peter a sisterly kiss on the cheek.

“Okay Petey,” she said.

The retired hero had to interrupt before he cried, doing so with a soft clearing of the throat.

“Alright, Alright, enough of the mushy stuff. Food’s ready,” he said.

The two “siblings” bolted into the kitchen. Peter was careful not to knock anything while Morgan seemed to careen around corners like she was driving a race car on two wheels instead of four.

“Mr. Stark, you really shouldn’t have done this,” Peter said, a pang of guilt coursing through him as he admired the delicious smelling pancakes.

“And why not?” Tony asked.

Peter looked down nervously, not wanting to answer.

Tony scoffed.

“Pete, just because I’m missing an arm doesn’t mean I’m incompetent. Besides, I have this awesome Iron Arm that you designed yourself. You can’t be all that worried about me,” he said, gesturing to his newly fitted red and gold prosthetic.

Peter huffed. “But Mr. Stark. Even with the arm, you shouldn’t be walking around so much yet,” he argued, seemingly getting courage from the pancakes he piled onto his plate.

Tony opened his mouth to retort when Pepper stepped in.

“Actually, the doctors said that it’s good for Tony to push his limits. You don’t think I would’ve let him fix breakfast for us if it was going to be bad for him, do you?” Pepper asked.

Peter looked wide-eyed at the powerful woman before him. “Of course not, Mrs. Stark! I guess I’m just worried, that’s all.”

Pepper smiled, “I understand, Peter, but are you sure it isn’t us who should be worried about you?”

The teen looked away in defeat, because wasn’t that the truth? He couldn’t even hide it after the mild freak out he had only minutes prior.

Tony couldn’t stand the hurt puppy look that the young superhero pulled off so well.

“It’s okay, Peter. We’ll get through this together,” he reassured the teen.

Peter put his plate down and allowed the two grown-ups to hug him on either side. Even Morgan jumped in, not wanting to be left out from a group cuddle.

“Hey, Pete?”

“Yeah?” Peter answered, craning his neck as best he could to face his mentor. It was hard, given a certain 5 ½ year old was perched on his lap. She had resumed coloring once they had finished eating but wanted to be close to Peter so she could ask him for color suggestions.

“Do you mind watching the gremlin today? Pepper and I need to do some S.I. work. The collateral from Bruce’s snap seems to be never ending. I mean, most people are happy with the return of their loved ones, but damn is it messy,” Tony said, waving his hands in the air dramatically for emphasis.

“Sure!” Peter replied, turning to the child in his lap. “Hear that, Morgs? We get to spend the whole day together!”

“Huzzah!” Morgan exclaimed, throwing her crayons into the air.

Tony chuckled, “May should be back this afternoon to help out. She went into town with Happy.”

“That’s fine. I don’t think she’ll be much of an issue anyway. Right, M?” Peter stroked some of the little girl’s hair, admiring how soft it was.

Morgan looked up with a smirk she should’ve been too young to pull off. “Right. But only if you play superheroes with me.”

Peter looked away.

“I don’t know, Morgan. I just don’t feel comfortable yet, y’know, being Spider-Man again,” he admitted. His guilt over everything that happened resurfaced, gnawing at his insides like a parasite that he couldn’t purge from his body.

Peter knew Morgan didn’t completely understand the weight of everything that had transpired, but what she did know was that talking about his superhero alter-ego was usually off limits.

Morgan huffed. “Then I can be Spider-Man and you can be Daddy,” she suggested.

When Peter answered with a hesitant look, she stooped to begging, “Come on, Petey, please! It’s been so long since we played Supers. I miss it.”

Then Morgan did the one thing that always got him. She used her big, brown puppy dog eyes. Peter was done for.

“Alright, alright, fine. But I think I’d make a better Hulk than Iron Man,” he acquiesced.

Tony shot Peter a worried look. “Kid, you really don’t have to do this,” he said.

Peter smiled, ruffling Morgan’s hair, “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. We’ll look out for each other.”

The girl nodded, smiling back at her surrogate brother. “Now come on, let’s go,” she whined, suddenly jumping up and pulling at the hem of Peter’s shirt.

Peter laughed. The kind of laugh that was happy and pure, something he didn’t often get to experience anymore, Tony noted. “Okay, okay, I’m coming, munchkin.”

He then got up and followed her out the door.

Ever since Peter and May had moved into the Lake house, the two kids had become inseparable. Not only inseparable, but furiously protective of each other.

Elements of how their relationship would blossom started to show themselves during the times Pepper asked Peter to babysit Morgan when Tony was still in the hospital. She would say it was Happy’s day off, and while the man did need a break, Pepper just really trusted Peter. Besides, having a superhero protect your child could put ease to anyone’s mind.

Morgan had immediately fallen in love with Peter. And who can blame her? Tony had all but made every single one of her bedtime stories about The Adventures of Spider-Man, or The Shenanigans of His Favorite Intern: Peter Parker. He had been the big brother she never got to meet, well not until Bruce’s snap.

She didn’t know what was happening when Tony was in the hospital. Why was he hurt? Was he going to be okay? Was he going to leave like she was told half the population did before? All anyone would tell her was “your father is the bravest man, a true hero,” which, duh. She already knew that.

Peter was the first to really try and explain what was going on and he was there to comfort her whether she completely understood what he told her about surgery and amputation or not. They would play Superheroes and color together and in the end she, too, felt safe with Peter. As far as Morgan was concerned, Peter was basically her big brother now.

“UUUHHHH! HULK SMASH!” Peter yelled, tearing a log in half with his super strength as the two ran around outside together.

Morgan frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s not how Uncle Bruce sounds,” she proclaimed with a huff.

Peter blinked at her. Sometimes his brain slipped back into its mindset from before Thanos’ first snap. As if the five years he was gone never happened. Although for him they didn’t, not really.

“That’s how he used to sound. When he was cool, anyway,” Peter stated, poking the much smaller child.

Morgan shook her head, “You still think he’s cool.”

“Oh yeah?” Peter asked. “What makes you say that.”v

“You said so last time he came to visit,” Morgan said simply.

Peter blinked again before bursting into laughter. “Ha! Yeah, Morgs, I guess I did. Doesn’t change how I’m going to play Hulk though. Now, give me your best Spider-Man impression.”

The little Stark smiled. In a quick burst of energy, she ran up to a tree and pushed off it into a little jump, landing in a crouch and shooting her arms out, hands in the same position Peter’s would be in if he was using his web-shooters.

Now it was Peter’s turn to smile. “Pretty good. Almost better than me. But can you do this?”

Peter then climbed up the tree with ease, using his sticking abilities. He walked onto a thick, low hanging branch and hung upside down, legs hooked to the tree, smirking at the younger girl.

Morgan stomped her foot. “Not fair! You’re supposed to be Hulk!” She pouted.

Peter laughed again. “My apologies, madam. I just thought you might want to swing.” He then held his arms out for her to grab onto, quirking an eyebrow up just a little while still upside down.

Morgan’s tantrum quickly died down as she ran up to her surrogate brother and wrapped her little hands around his wrists, bouncing on her tippy toes to do so.

Once they were interlocked with each other, Peter pulled up ever so slightly, so Morgan was hanging off the ground, and then started to move his body back and forth such that she was swinging with him.

“Faster, Petey!” Morgan cried, giggles peppering her voice.

Peter smiled, glad to oblige. But, just as he was about to take his swinging game up a notch, his Spidey Sense began to thrum at the back of his head, sending a shiver down his spine.

Immediately Peter released Morgan, setting her down as gently as his panicked body would let him, leading to her stumbling on her child legs and falling backwards onto her bottom.

“Ow! Petey! That hurt! Why did you do that?” Morgan demanded from the ground, her face red.

Peter couldn’t tell if she was angry or about to cry, but he didn’t really have time to try and find out. Just as soon as he swung to the ground, a poison dart went whizzing by his head and firmly implanted itself in the bark of the branch he was just on.

Peter made a move toward the dart, face contorted into a frown. He recognized the tech. It belonged to a dangerous group of criminals that used poisons on their victims. They had been on his radar for quite some time. Before the Europe trip, he was finally able to track their moves and stop a dangerous plot to rob and kidnap an important corporate leader. That’s what they seemed to like to do: kidnap, rob and ransack, then kill. The process was meant to “make a statement.” Something about liberating the oppressed. But which group of oppressed peoples they wanted to liberate and how killing others would accomplish that, Peter was never quite able to figure out. All he knew is that they were armed, dangerous, and willing to kill, making their current situation quite dire.

Morgan noticed the dart too. Her former angst dissipated in favor of something else he couldn’t quite place.

“Peter, what- what’s that?” she asked. The child that usually had no fear now allowing her voice to waver ever so slightly.

That’s when the men appeared.

From out of the bushes came four of them, all wearing black with ski masks. Each held a weapon akin to a tranquilizer gun too. Two rounds, Peter noted. That’s how many each one of the guns had.

This time when his Spidey Sense went off, Peter took no time to run to Morgan and shield her, allowing a dart to pierce his arm.

“Petey, what’s going on?” Morgan asked as the men drew closer.

Peter knew he could probably fight them off, even with one dose of, well, whatever was in those darts. But, doing that would place Morgan at risk of harm, or even capture if he were to fail. So, Peter did the one thing he swore he would never do: he ran away.

Peter scooped his surrogate sister into his arms, such that his whole body was wrapped around hers, and took off in the direction of the cabin.

Darts when flying into his body, tearing his clothes as they viciously penetrated his skin, but Peter kept running, trying to put as much distance between him and the gang as he could.

He ran and ran and ran for what seemed like forever but must have only been less than a minute. He ran until he counted all eight darts had been shot and used: five of them making it into his body. And by that point, the poison coursing through his system had begun to take effect. He could feel the corners of his vision blurring together, not unlike one of Beck’s illusions.

Hallucinogens. Great. Peter thought as his legs locked from the toxins and he finally went tumbling to the ground.

Morgan took no time at all to get back up, but Peter found he could no longer feel his legs.

“Peter! Peter, get up! I’m scared!” Morgan yelled as she tried to pull the older boy upright.

Peter glanced between her and where the men came from. He knew it would only be a matter of time before they caught up. Quickly, he slipped off his Stark watch, pressing the S.O.S. button on the back of it, and handed it to Morgan.

“Take this. Your dad will be able to find you so long as you have it,” he said.

Then Peter did the unthinkable: he transferred his web-shooters to Morgan as well, giving her a weak smile as he did so.

“You remember when I showed you how to use these?” he asked.

Morgan nodded.

“Good. If anyone tries to touch you, you shoot a web at them.”

“But-” Morgan tried to argue, hot tears running fresh down her face.

Peter pushed the web-shooters further into her hands and curled her fingers around them. “I can’t go any further. But you need to run, and don’t stop until you see someone you trust, okay?”

By now, Peter’s vision was absolutely swimming. He could swear the ground was breathing and the sun was whispering things to him as well. Telling him to let go. But he wouldn’t give in until she was safe.

Who was she, again? Oh, right, Morgan.

“Morgan, go.” He finally demanded, pushing her a little before falling comatose, empty eyes staring at the swirling clouds above.

So, although her heart hurt, Morgan ran. As fast as her legs would carry her.

She ran and ran until, just like he promised her, a set of black and silver armor landed before her and she was safe.

“Rhodey, what’s your status?”

Tony Stark paced nervously around his kitchen waiting for a response from his best friend. With Tony being officially retired, Peter’s S.O.S. watch sent a notice to Rhodey. He, of course, got the notification as well, but was practically held down by Pepper, Happy, and May to let Rhodey go instead and stay behind in case they made it home.

Static buzzed in his earpiece before, finally, Rhodey’s voice came through. “I have Morgan. Although she is very distressed. Coming back now. ETA thirty seconds,” he said, stating the facts militarily, something that years in service had him doing naturally even in stressful situations.

Before Tony could form a coherent reply, the sound of War Machine landing in his front yard had him losing his headset and running. May, Pepper, and Happy were hot on his tail.

First thing the genius billionaire noticed was his daughter clinging to his best friend for dear life while all out sobbing. She looked hesitant to leave the safety the armor brought even when she saw Tony and Pepper, too set on adamantly pulling at Rhodey’s arms to leave him. She was clearly trying to tell him something but was unable to form functional words between her pitiful cries.

Tony ran to her. It hurt to run, he wasn’t supposed to, but this was his child. So, he ran to her and wrapped her in a strong embrace, Pepper joining in suit.

“Morgan, thank God,” the two parents said in unison.

Their daughter took a moment to snuggle into the comfort of her parents’ arms, even if one of the said arms was metal. But the reunion was brief. As soon as she knew she was safe, Morgan was all business, wiggling away from them, a look of determination forming behind watery eyes.

“Dad, tell Uncle Rhodey he has to go back!” She demanded, pointing at a now face plate-less War Machine.

Tony looked up at his best friend and then back at his daughter, a realization settling in his gut. It was the kind of feeling that makes your stomach flop up into your throat and then drop back into your abdomen so quickly it gives you whiplash.

“Where’s Peter?”

He looked between Rhodey and his daughter, who had sprung fresh tears from her eyes.

“Where is Peter?” he asked again.

May took a step forward from where she was standing behind Tony. She shook her head, hands threading nervously through her hair. “Tony…what is happening? Where is my boy?”

“I tried to tell him, Daddy!” Morgan shouted, unable to contain herself. “Peter he- he saved me from the bad guys. They had these guns that shot darts! But we ran and ran and I thought we were O.K., but then he fell and – Daddy, I tried to get him up – but he pushed me away and gave me these,” She said shoving her web-shooter adorned wrists in his face.

May gasped, covering her mouth with her hands as tears began to steam down her face. Happy was the first to notice how her knees shook and she swayed a little, and offered a comforting hand, which was all the invitation May needed. She immediately collapsed into the ex-boxer, sobs suddenly wracking her body so hard she couldn’t stand.

Tony was in a similar shock. He made brief eye contact with Rhodey, but his best friend quickly looked away, obviously struck with guilt. Unable to think enough to try and calm his child further, he passed Morgan over to his wife and took a moment to just stare into space.

Then, like a jolt electricity passed through him, Tony jumped into action.

First, his weak legs took him directly over to his best friend, anger burning in his blood. Even though he wore no protection, he still wasn’t afraid of the armor his friend bore and was 100% willing to get up in Rhodey’s face.

“You just left him there!” Tony exclaimed, baring his teeth.

“I had to get Morgan out of there first!” Rhondey explained, squaring up as if they were about to fight. “Peter was nowhere in sight, but even if he was, he can hold his own, whereas she can’t!”

“Did you even go looking for him?” The billionaire demanded, throwing his arms up into the air.

“Not yet. I just got back. But Tony, we really should know what we are up against before diving headfirst into this.”

Tony growled. He hated how logical Rhodey could be. “I don’t care! Peter is out there right now, probably scared and alone with those creeps, because you thought he could hold his own. Is that right? You just left a kid out there to fight a bunch of men with guns. And not just any kid. My kid.”

“And what? You wanted me to leave your actual child in a dangerous situation to go find him? She’s not even six!”

Tony opened his mouth to yell another retort when Pepper placed a hand on his shoulder. He was so upset he hadn’t noticed his muscles spasming. He watched as they twitched around under the skin his wife’s hand rested on. Then he looked down and saw Morgan tucked into Pepper’s side, hiding her face. He hadn’t realized how badly his biting anger was scaring the girl too.

Tony took a breath and counted back from five, just as he would tell Peter to do when he was getting anxious. Then he kneeled next to his daughter, demeanor softening. “Hey, hey, you did good munchkin. I’m going to find him, okay? Peter won’t be gone long.”

Morgan looked up at him with big brown eyes. The pain and fear in them reflecting his own. “Promise?” she whispered.

“I promise,” he whispered back, stroking her hair.

Rhodey approached the scene carefully. “Tony, I’m sorry. I’m worried about him too,” he said, sighing. “Look, I’ll go do a fly over and see if I notice anything. I’ll be back to regroup in a minute. We can talk about where to go from here then, okay?”

Tony nodded. He just wanted his family safe. His whole family. And he knew everyone else did too, which made things even harder in a way. But they would get through this. They had to.

When Peter regained consciousness, he was screaming. He couldn’t remember why he was screaming though, not really. He could only recall bits and pieces of what felt like a dramatic nightmare. People whose faces looked like Picasso pictures, jostling around in the mouth of a metal monster, whispers from the walls, the carpet crawling on his skin like one massive, hairy roach...He figured some of it was at least based on reality, but that most of it was part of some giant, horrifying hallucination caused by the poison in the darts. Even now, his vision was still blurred by streaks of colors he didn’t know even existed. He would have almost preferred one of Beck’s illusions…almost.

“Ugh,” he managed to moan. His tongue flopped around uselessly, occasionally rubbing against sandpaper that was the roof of his mouth. He didn’t realize that a mouth could be this dry. He wondered if this is how Tony felt when he was stranded in the desert after escaping his captors in Afghanistan. Probably so, but without being so high.

“Water,” he croaked. Peter wasn’t sure if there was anyone around to hear him, with his senses still being all out of whack, but it was worth a shot.

“Aww the Spider-Boy wants water, eh?” Someone said, mockingly.

Before Peter could reply with a typical Spider-Man retort, a cloth was thrown over his face and his head was forcibly tipped back as water was poured over his mouth mercilessly.

Don’t panic, you’re just being waterboarded. They’ll stop eventually. They want you alive, he thought as he tried to fight off the drowning sensation.

But as the time passed ever so slowly, he began to question the truth of his thoughts, and eventually his anxiety got the better of him. What if they didn’t stop? He’d die here, high and weak and alone. And these thoughts rousted the fight in him previously lying dormant under a fog of drugs.

With a rush of adrenaline, Peter tried to push his captors off him, but found his arms to still be heavy and almost non-responsive. Unfortunately, the movement was enough to raise awareness of his semi-lucid state to the baddies, who quickly went to work decorating his arms and legs with unbreakable restraints that Peter figured must be made of vibranium.

And just as Peter’s flailing limbs began to go limp once again, consciousness fading to black, the water stopped coming and the cloth was removed, allowing his airways sweet relief.

Peter gasped for as much air as he could intake at once, but it didn’t feel like enough. His hands buckled against their cuffs, wanting so badly to grasp this throat and assure himself that his head was still firmly attached to his body, airways still able to fill his lungs to capacity. But they couldn’t so he just had to figure everything was still attached as oxygen began to flow back to his brain once again.

One man laughed. “Welcome, Spider-Man. Or should I say, Peter Parker.” The sneer in his voice was unmistakable. Peter had heard this kind of thing in his enemies a thousand times.

“What do you want from me?” Peter managed to ask between huffs, blinking water out of his eyes to get a better look at this villain.

The man gave him a twisted sort of smile under the ski mask he still wore. He reached up to pet Peter’s hair, but the teen kept swiveling his head away, disgusted.

The man sighed.

“Well, nothing, really. You can’t give us anything. Usually we would just kill you and be done with it. You’ve caused us enough trouble as it is, trying to ruin our business derivatives as Spider-Man. Which, I got to say, I would’ve never guessed was you. Some secret identity you had. Who would’ve thought that the Spider-menace was just a kid?”

Peter glared, making the man sigh again.

“Come on. Nothing? You’re no fun. Anyway, The Boss had your termination delayed because of your relation to Tony Stark.”

That caught Peter’s attention and the man noticed. Immediately Peter braced against vibranium chains holding him into his chair.

“Don’t you dare do anything to Mr. Stark,” he growled.

The man chuckled, circling Peter as his buddies came out of the shadows to watch, like a pack of hyenas.

“So, you do have a close attachment with that man? I can’t believe it. I told my boss this was a pointless mission. I thought you couldn’t be anything more than some hero for Stark to mentor and stroke his ego with. After all, Stark can’t care for anyone but himself.”

Peter stared, giving no reaction.

“Oh, come one, really? Still nothing? Ugh.”

“What do you want with Mr. Stark?”

The man looked to his buddies. “You think I should tell him?” he asked, as if this was some sort of game they were playing.

“I don’t know Jim, what if this goes South? Do you really want him to know our motives?” One of the more sensible villains replied with another lacky nodding in agreement.

“I think we should humor him,” A different baddie chimed in. “No way can he escape from vibranium. Besides, if he’s about to die at least he should know why.”

His opinion was rewarded by murmurs of agreement.

The leader, now known as Jim, smiled. He was seemingly amused by the conflict between his fellow gang members.

“Well, Alfred outranks you, Chase, so I think I’ll go with his idea and just tell him,” he said.

Jim turned to Peter. “Tony has always been a target on our radar, with the way he has stepped on the people blow him to get where he is now, both as a weapons dealer and as Iron Man. His social status and hero alter-ego, however, have kept him unattainable to us in a practical sense. Now that we have you though, we can use that to our advantage. We still can’t kill him, but we can break him down emotionally; put him in so much turmoil that it renders him utterly useless and no longer a threat to our goals. Every three hours for the next 36 hours, he will receive a five-minute video of you being tortured in various ways, each worse than the last. And, at the end of that time, when we kill you, that will be broadcasted as well, and sent to The Daily Bugle for extra measure. The Boss wants the whole world to know how he failed.”

Peter was speechless, although the way his hands shook beneath the restraints spoke enough. He wasn’t scared by the thought of facing his own demise though. It was more the thought of a broken Tony that tore Peter apart. The world needed Tony. But more importantly, Rhodey needed his best friend. And Pepper needed her husband. And Morgan needed her dad. They all needed him at his best and not rotting away with grief. The thought of everyone losing that, and that he could be the reason for it, that’s what scared Peter more than anything.

“You won’t win,” Peter whispered, barely audible over the sounds of his shaking chains.

“Maybe so, but so long as he loses, I’ll be okay with the result.” Jim looked down at his watch. “Speaking of results, it looks like it’s time for our first session to begin.”

With that he pulled out a large knife.

Peter had been missing for three hours already when F.R.I.D.A.Y. received a transmission from an unknown source.

“Do you think it could be them?” Happy asked, looking around the room at Pepper, Rhodey, and Tony. May had taken to babysitting Morgan as a way to distract herself from the pain of losing her nephew.

Rhodey nodded.

“Probably,” he said, “but F.R.I.D.A.Y. will need time to debug it before we open the message.”

At that, Tony’s eyes instantly flew to the ceiling. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., skip the debugging protocol and open the communication channel ASAP,” Tony said, turning to make direct eye contact with his friends.

Rhodey was flabbergasted, walking up to the billionaire and shaking him by the shoulders. “Tones! Did you even hear what I just said? The debugging is a basic safety feature you installed; in case you don’t remember.”

Tony pushed the man off him, looking more determined than ever. “I know, but we can’t waste any time with that when Peter is in danger. What if he-”

“Live Stream Video: Playing,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted, projecting a video message onto a holographic screen Tony had up in his living room. The lot had almost immediately converted the space into a working detective’s office following Peter’s kidnapping, since Tony’s garage lab was too small for all of them to work on simultaneously.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stark.”

Jim was standing directly in front of the camera, waving like one would to old friends.

Tony sneered.

“Oh, and I see you have your wife and friends here too,” Jim continued. “No other Avengers though? I guess poor Mr. Parker is just not important enough to call in the legion.”

Now this wasn’t true. The other Avengers had been made aware of the situation and were working remotely. But with all that had been happening, they weren’t quite a well-oiled machine again and Tony didn’t want to invite anyone else to his lake house with the perimeter having been compromised as it was. Still, the comment got under Tony’s skin.

“Where’s Peter?” Tony said, voice dangerously even and smooth.

Jim smiled, “Oh, you mean Spider-Man? He’s right here.”

The villain stepped aside to reveal to Tony his surrogate son bound and gagged, eyes wide like a spooked horse.

“Peter!” Tony called out, instinctually.

“He’s so lucky our honored guest for today’s show,” Jim said, slithering towards the kid like a snake. He grabbed Peter’s hair harshly and angled Peter’s face to get a better look at his cheek and jaw line.

“He’s such a pretty thing. I’m sure he just can’t wait to get started,” Jim said, making Tony’s blood boil.

Not being able to stand Peter’s captors talk about him like that any longer, Tony went to start trying to make demands, but Jim beat him to it.

“Let’s not make him wait any longer, hm? You guys just sit back and enjoy.” Jim then turned to someone off camera, “Chase, sound off.”

“Wait! No!” Tony called out, but the gang members could no longer hear him.

“Oh God, what’s he going to do?” Happy asked no one in particular as Jim pulled out a large knife in front of Peter, waving it around at the camera to make his intentions clear.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. track their location,” the genius demanded of his A.I.

“Already on it, Boss,” she replied.

Then it began. Jim slid the serrated metal across Peter’s chest.

Blood leaked from Peter’s mouth as he tried to bite his tongue to keep from screaming. As the object was pushed deeper into him, however, the pressure is his lungs became too much. A blood curdling cry suddenly came bursting out of his chest. It was jarring and grating on the ears of those who cared about him, tearing at the muscles of their own hearts.

Crimson liquid began to pool at Peter’s feet, but Jim would not stop sliding the knife through Peter’s skin. It was like the weapon had a mind of its own. And with each cut he made, more whimpers and screams were drawn out of the suffering superhero.

None of the incisions were deep enough to leave permanent damage to the kid with super-healing, but they were all done in places Tony knew where weak spots on the human body. Sensitive areas that have the ability to be excruciating under the right kind of pressure, just as Jim was applying to Peter now.

“Tony, turn it off,” Pepper cried, but Tony couldn’t pry his eyes off the screen long enough to carry out her request. He had to know what Peter was going though. He had to be there with him to feel his pain. He couldn’t let him suffer alone. He would agonize for as long as this would go on if needed. Afterall, this was his fault, wasn’t it?

“Tony please. We don’t need to watch this. Just let F.R.I.D.A.Y. run her diagnostics on it somewhere else,” Rhodey tried to reason, although it came out more like a beg.

Tony didn’t respond, eyes glued to the screen. He only became responsive when Peter’s bruised and bloodied form disappeared, and the feed went dark. His breathing was heavy and ragged, so jostled from watching his kid be tortured. But the worst part was, when he looked around, he was alone. The others couldn’t bear to watch, and apparently had left him there. By himself.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Results of scan?” he asked in a breathy tone, still trying to get his heart rate back to normal.

“Diagnostics successful. No location found, but my voice recognition software found a match to one of Peter’s captors. His name is James Ryan Scott. The others are already doing research on him now,” She answered dutifully.

“Good.”

As it turns out, James “Jim” Scott, actually worked for Oscorp’s Poison and Venom Department after getting fired by Stark Industries for being sloppy. How ironic.

After a long twelve hours, and three more videos later, the team was able to track the location of him and the other baddies thanks to E.D.I.T.H.’s access to nation-wide surveillance cameras. Now they were just gearing up to make a stand.

“Tony you need to stay here. It’s too early yet to get back into the suit. You could really do some damage to yourself,” Rhodey pleaded with his best friend, who didn’t look ready to give in at all.

Tony was in the midst of tinkering with his nano-suit, making sure it would still function properly after all the damage it received via Thanos.

“No can do, honey bear. I need to be there. Peter needs to see me,” he replied to Rhodey, barely looking up from his screwdriver. That’s when Rhodey put his foot down.

The militant slammed his armor-covered hands down on the table Tony was working at, causing it to snap in two and Tony’s reactor to clash to the floor.

“Rhodey, what the fuck?”

“You’re staying here!” Rhodey yelled. “You almost died once; I won’t let it happen again. Especially not over something as stupid as pushing yourself too hard. I can handle this on my own.”

Tony stood to his full height. Although he was on the short side for an American man, when he straightened his shoulders out and got in your face, Tony seemed ten feet tall.

“I lost that kid for five years. Five whole years! During that time, I never once stopped grieving for him. Even when Morgan was born, all I could think about was how Peter would have wanted to be there,” Tony started, voice booming. “And when I fought Thanos, that wasn’t for you or me or the good of the universe. That was all for Peter. I almost died to bring him back. I did it once and I’m certainly willing to do it again. I will not have a world without Peter Parker! I will not have my world without Peter Parker! Not again. Don’t you understand! I need to be there! I need to see to it that he’s okay…”

Tony wasn’t one to cry, so as he could feel the hot lacrimal fluids fill up his tear ducts, he quickly sniffed and looked away.

“Tones…I-” Rhodey was cut off by the sound of the heavy, metal footsteps behind the door, only for it to reveal Pepper when it opened, in her full suit of armor.

“Pep, what are you doing?” Tony began to ask, always awestruck when his wife wore the armor.

“We are all going to go save Peter,” she said matter-of-factly.

“But-” Rhodey started, only to be interrupted by her, again.

“I will be there to watch out for Tony and have medical equipment in my suit if it is required. But Tony’s right, Peter needs to see us, and we need to see Peter. So, stop arguing and let’s get going.”

It was then that Tony took the arc reactor off the floor and attached it to his chest, allowing the nanites to spread across his body until he was fully suited up in his traditional red and gold.

“You heard the lady. Time for takeoff,” he said.

And with that the two Starks went outside and blasted into the night sky, War Machine following shortly after, but not before taking a minute to shake his head. What a stubborn couple his friends were.

Taking down the bad guys turned out to be relatively easy. Retrieving Peter was a different story. As it turns out, between torture sessions, Jim had Peter not only bound and gagged, but he was also blindfolded and had special ear plugs in so that he couldn’t hear anything.

Sensory deprivation. One of the worst forms of long-term torture. Especially for someone who relied on the senses as much as Peter.

When Tony touched Peter, he instantly flinched, trying to contort his body away from the feeling as though he had been slapped.

With the bad guys all tied up and on their way to prison, thanks to Rhodey and Pepper, Tony had his nanites retract back into their housing unit and carefully began to undo what had been done to his boy.

First, he pulled out the earplugs.

“Hey Pete, it’s just me, Mr. Stark. I’m here now. You’re safe. I’m going to get you home, okay? Just give me a minute.”

Peter turned his head towards Tony’s voice, eyebrows still furrowed.

Next, Tony undid his blindfold.

Once Peter could see, he seemed to relax a little more. After taking the gag out too, Tony let a hand linger on Peter’s cheek, which the kid immediately leaned into.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” He whispered, tears starting to roll slowly down his face.

Tony felt his old heart stop for a second with the pang of guilt that coursed through him.

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” He said, bending down to be eye level with Peter and firmly holding the kid’s head between his calloused hands. “Morgan told us what happened. You saved her. For that I’m forever grateful. And I’m the one who should be sorry. This should never have happen on my watch,” he continued, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of the boy’s head. “Now let me undo those vibranium cuffs. One of those bozos nicely handed the keys right over after a repulser blast to the gut.”

When he was free, the first thing Peter did was dive into Tony’s arms, his former tears turning into full out sobs.

“I was so scared, Mr. Stark. I was worried they were going to hurt you,” Peter choked out.

Tony gaped.

“Hurt me?” he said. “Peter, they almost killed you and you’re worried about me?”

Peter nodded into his chest, bundling the older man’s shirt in his hands.

“They said they wanted to break you,” he murmured, muffled by the cotton of Tony's favorite Spider-Man t-shirt.

Tony just rubbed Peter’s hair, trying to avoid the spots of crusted blood that were stuck in his locks.

“Hey, but they didn’t. I got you. I’m safe, and more importantly, you’re safe now too.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two before Peter spoke again.

“I love you, Mr. Stark. Thank you for coming for me.”

At that, Tony’s heart just melted into a puddle of hot wax in his stomach, the warmth of it spreading through his whole vascular system. Usually he was more for showing how he felt rather than saying it, but in the moment, Tony couldn’t stop himself.

“I love you too, kiddo,” he replied, kissing the boy’s temple. “Now let’s go home.”

Several weeks had passed since Peter was kidnapped and the Spider-kid was working really hard at trying to progress his recovery as fast as possible. Peter made sure to attend therapy twice a week and practiced his coping skills from a workbook Sam had given him almost daily. He even had Tony bring in a Helen Cho vetted sleep specialist to address his nightmares. Peter also made sure to keep himself busy with positive activities too, such as playing with Morgan and working in the lab with Tony. But today, he was acting differently.

Peter had been avoiding Tony almost all day. It wasn’t until long after lunch that Peter made his way into the main room, ready to talk.

“Mr. Stark?” he asked, twilling his thumbs.

“Yeah, Pete?” Tony replied, looking up from a Stark Pad.

“Can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Tony shifted from his spot at the table and moved to the couch. He left room for Peter to join him, but the kid opted to stand and pace around the room instead. It was beginning to give even Iron Man some anxiety.

“Peter, just tell me what’s wrong. Your nervous energy is going to drive me up the wall” Tony said, impatiently.

Finally, Peter stopped and sat down next to him, still seeming to vibrate.

“IWantToMoveBackToQueens,” he blurted out so fast it made Tony dizzy.

“You what now?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter took a breath.

“I want to move back to Queens,” he repeated, this time slower.

Tony just kind of stared at him. He didn’t know how to feel and before he could make up his mind what to say, Peter jumped into backtracking mode.

“It’s not that I don’t love it here. Mr. Stark, your home is beautiful, and you and Mrs. Stark have been such amazing hosts, really, I just…I want, no, I need to go back home. I guess…I guess I’m trying to say I’m ready to be Spider-Man again. It’s time for me to face what happened with Beck.”

Ahhh, so that’s what this is about, Tony thought with a small smile escaping from his mind and onto his lips. This was bound to happen eventually.

“Pete, are you sure? You can stay here for as long as you want, you know. Hell, you can live here for the rest of your life if you need to. I know Morgan would love that,” Tony replied.

Peter just nodded. “I don’t want Beck to control me forever. And after all that’s happened…I know New York needs me. I can’t let guys like that hurt anyone else.”

Tony’s smile grew. “Well, Pepper has been throwing some P.R. ideas past me on how to get the world over what happened with Beck. To right his wrongs and air the truth. You think you’d be up for hearing them tonight when she gets home from work?” he asked.

Peter gave him a goofy grin. “Really? That would be awesome. Thank you, Mr. Stark.” Then the kid launched himself into a hug with the retired hero, something they had both come to do more frequently since the kidnapping.

Suddenly their peace was ruined by a loud screech from across the house.

“PETER! WHERE ARE YOU?!” Morgan squealed, ready to play.

Peter just giggled, separating himself from Tony’s arms.

"Coming, Morgan!” He shouted back.

Peter got up to find his surrogate sister, but just before he was about to leave the room, he turned back to face his mentor one last time.

“I love you, Tony. Thank you,” he said, trotting off before Tony could reply.

The genius smiled, contentment settling in his soul. “Anything for you, kid. Anything for you.”