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Tony looked at the clock the microwave was displaying.
10:56 PM
He huffed an exasperated breath before slamming a mug into the coffee maker and pressing the button. The coffee maker started to grind beans, the sound grating in the silence of the penthouse.
He glanced at the clock again.
10:57 PM
Tony turned his attention towards the mug pointedly, watching the coffee filling it up. His fingers drummed against the marble countertops of the kitchen counter. He shouldn’t be checking the clock so much, he told himself. He should have some trust, not expect the worst-case scenario,
like flames on a beach, a downed airplane shattered upon impact, a criminal webbed up and a note with a shakily scrawled message,
he should go to bed, actually. Maybe coffee was a bad idea. He took a sip, positioning himself in front of the fridge, re-reading a school flyer about an upcoming bake sale. He made a mental note to place an order for some muffins at the family-owned bakery Pepper loved. Then he wondered whether it was allowed to bring something that he hadn’t baked himself. Did schools have rules about this kind of thing?
10:58 PM
Not too long ago, Tony hadn’t had to worry about that kind of thing. Not too long ago, he hadn’t had a teenager living with him. Not too long ago, Peter’s mother Mary and her husband Richard had been dealing with stuff like this while Tony had dropped by once or twice a month for coffee and maybe dinner.
Originally, after Peter had been born, Tony hadn’t even visited. He hadn’t wanted a kid to weigh him down and Mary hadn’t wanted an alcoholic playboy to be around her little son. Tony had sent money on a regular basis and received pictures every now and then. Vague plans about telling Peter had been made when the kid had turned three and had learned that Richard wasn’t his biological dad. He’d started to ask questions.
There had always been a handy excuse to delay a meeting.
And then, Afghanistan had happened. And suddenly, getting to know Peter had been one of the most important things on Tony’s list of priorities, so he’d started to visit. Agreeing that growing up in the spotlight as a Stark heir wasn’t the kind of life they wanted for Peter, Tony had never officially announced that he had a child. There had been a plan to introduce Peter as a Stark once he graduated from high school.
It had been a good plan, one they had all been able to live with.
10:59 PM
The plan that had died along with Mary and Richard when they were killed during a mugging gone wrong on their way home from visiting Richard’s brother. Peter hadn’t been with them. As far as the police knew, he had been at home, studying. In fact, he had been roaming the rooftops of Astoria in a red-and-blue suit, webbing up criminals as Spider-Man.
Like he was probably doing right now, while his curfew drew closer.
Tony had known about Peter’s superhuman abilities from the start. The moment Peter had started to develop enhanced strength, agility and senses after being bitten by a radioactive spider during a school trip to Oscorp, he had called Tony, the only superhero he knew personally. Mary and Richard hadn’t known, but Peter had planned to tell them.
Yet another plan that had been derailed by their sudden deaths.
11:00 PM
Tony whipped out his phone and dialed Peter’s number. There was no answer and a ball of dread formed in his stomach.
Part of him told him that he was overreacting, that he’d equipped Peter with a high-tech suit that would alert Tony the very second something was wrong. A suit that he had built once he’d found out, just a few days after taking Peter in, that Peter used his powers to sneak out at night and stop petty criminals. Tony knew he wouldn’t be able to stop him, knew that Peter felt guilty for not being with Mary and Richard the night of the mugging, knew that he needed to be able to do something to make up for that. So Tony had given in, had created the suit and, together with Peter, the wristbands he used to shoot the webs he’d created as both transport and to restrain his opponents in a fight. Tony was well-aware that he would probably not be voted Parent Of The Year for allowing his 16-year-old to live a secret double-life as a vigilante, but he understood Peter’s need to use his powers for good.
It wasn’t much different for Tony and his Iron Man persona.
That didn’t mean he didn’t worry. Especially after what had happened half a year ago with Toomes,
when Peter had gone after someone he had almost not been able to handle himself, when he’d almost died because Tony had taken his suit away in an attempt to get him to stop going after a man much more dangerous than a mugger or a car thief,
when Tony had realized that Peter’s drive to do good far outweighed his common sense.
He was his father’s son, after all.
Tony put his phone down and turned to his trusty AI. “FRIDAY, connect me with Peter’s suit, please. Force the call through if necessary.”
“Right away, boss,” she answered dutifully.
The first thing he heard was Peter muttering, “… don’t pick up,” quickly followed by a defeated, “Hi, dad.”
The relief made Tony’s shoulders sag before turning into annoyance. “’Hi, dad’?” he echoed. “’Hi, dad’?”
“I know I’m past curfew. I know I’m, like, so super-late, I …” He paused, as if he’d just checked the time himself and said, “I am two minutes late.”
Tony raised his eyebrows. “The deal was 11. You should be home.”
“I’m almost home,” Peter said and Tony could feel him roll his eyes. “Come on, I’m only two minutes late.”
“Three,” Tony said, watching the clock jump to display 11:03 PM.
Peter grunted, probably taking a sharp corner. “Three,” he conceded. “But that’s almost nothing.”
Tony set his mug down. “We made a deal when this whole thing started, Peter. I would let you go out, do your vigilante business, under five conditions.”
“Don’t make me say them.”
“Say them.”
Peter sighed deeply and dutifully recited, “Don’t do anything I would do, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, don’t hide injuries, don’t neglect school, don’t be late.”
“Don’t be late,” Tony stressed and looked at the clock. “11:04.”
“Come on, dad, is the countdown necessary?”
“It’s more of a count-up and yes.”
He heard the door to the penthouse’s balcony slide open and turned to look through the brightly lit open-plan living space to where Peter stepped inside. Tony made his way over while Peter took the mask off and brushed a hand through his sweaty hair. The closer Tony got, the more difficult it was to hang onto his annoyance. Peter’s dark eyes were alight with joy and adrenaline, even though he tried very hard to show a chagrined, apologetic expression. Rhodey had once said that Peter was the spitting image of Tony back when they’d been at MIT. Tony had been so young, only fifteen. He definitely got where Rhodey was coming from. Peter was very much a Stark with his strong jawline, dark eyes and hair. He was stubborn and smart and reckless. He got his best qualities from his late mother, though; an infectious smile, a kind heart and a friendly nature that put people immediately at ease around him.
He met Tony’s eyes and gave a smile. “Hi, dad.”
Tony threw a pointed look at his watch. “It’s 11:05.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter said. “I … got stuck in traffic.”
Tony raised an eyebrow.
“Subway was late?” Peter tried.
Tony’s other eyebrow raised.
Peter released a sigh and walked past him, dropping the mask on the couch as he passed.
Tony picked it up as he followed him.
Peter opened the fridge. “Come on, dad, it’s just five minutes.”
“We had a deal,” Tony persisted.
Peter got a left-over pizza out and peeled a slice out of the carton, eating it cold like the heathen he was. “I was busy,” he said around the mouthful.
“Doing what?”
Peter swallowed and gave Tony a “d’uh” look. “Hero-ing.”
He tried to sound casual, but Tony caught just an edge of nervousness in his voice and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Care to be more specific?”
Peter frowned. “No, because we did have a deal. And yes, that deal was for me to get home on time but it also was that I do not have to tell you every little thing I do.” He took another bite of pizza. “Because you always freak out and think that I’m doing stuff I shouldn’t be doing.”
“I wouldn’t freak out,” Tony answered.
“You would.”
“Name one time I freaked out.”
“When I crashed a plane on Coney Island.”
Tony stared at him in disbelief. “Because you crashed a plane on Coney Island!”
Peter rolled his eyes.
“You could have died!”
“I didn’t, though, and I saved the tech,” Peter answered.
Tony scoffed and shook his head. Peter paused, something like pain or disappointment flickering over his expression before he hid it by taking another bite of pizza.
Tony sighed deeply and picked up his coffee mug, sipping the tepid coffee. He would never forget finding Peter collapsed in the kitchen that night, clutching broken ribs and a stab wound in his shoulder, soot and blood staining the old suit he’d worn as a replacement for the one Tony had taken away. Even with Peter’s healing factor, it had taken a few days until all of his wounds had been healed. Every flinch, every grimace had served to remind Tony that he’d failed Peter, that he shouldn’t have taken the suit, shouldn’t have expected him to let things be.
“But I didn’t get hurt today,” Peter said, pulling Tony out of his thoughts. “And the deal says that I don’t have to tell you if I don’t get hurt.”
Tony chose not to mention that that was a new development, that Peter had in fact always told him about patrol before. He’d stopped a few days ago, citing their agreement from back when he’d started to go out on patrol. Tony wasn’t sure whether he should be worried or whether Peter was simply going through a teenager thing. He decided not to prod too much. “You’re a menace.”
Peter smiled at him. “Love you, too.”
Tony huffed a laugh and stepped closer to press a kiss against Peter’s hair. “I still feel like you deserve punishment.”
Sighing deeply, Peter asked, “Why?”
“They might revoke my dad license if I don’t,” Tony answered. “And I worked hard for that one.”
Peter shrugged. “Dishwasher duty,” he offered. “Since it was just five minutes.”
“Dishwasher duty and workshop clean-up duty.”
Peter groaned.
“Alternatively, I could also ground you for a couple of days, if-”
“Dishwasher and workshop sound great,” Peter interrupted him, grinning widely.
Tony brushed his sweaty hair out of his forehead and sobered a little. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Peter answered, picking up on the earnest mood. He picked up the pizza box. “I’m gonna finish this in my room and head for bed.”
“Okay,” Tony answered. “Sleep well, underoos.”
“Dad,” Peter groaned, but he smiled at him as he left.
***
Mornings were different since Peter lived with him. Where before, Tony would just drink a mug of coffee and watch the news, he now cooked breakfast. An because he knew that Peter never got up on time during the weekend and was always at the brink of being late, he put the freshly-made scrambled eggs, bacon and toast into a Tupperware box for Peter to eat in the car. Happy regularly complained about the smell the food left behind once he’d dropped Peter off at school, but Tony knew he didn’t actually mind. He was head of security. He was overseeing the drivers. If he actually would have a problem driving Peter around and subjecting himself to the smell of cold bacon and toast, he wouldn’t do it.
“Hey, dad,” Peter greeted, rushing into the kitchen and grabbing the Tupperware box and a fork from the cutlery drawer before he got a bottle of juice from the fridge for later. He glanced at the microwave clock and set his backpack down, probably figuring that he had a minute to make sure he had all the books he needed. “I’ll be on patrol after school, okay?”
Tony froze, his mug half-way to his mouth. “I don’t think so.”
Peter’s jaw clenched stubbornly. “Dad-”
“No,” Tony said. “We agreed. Patrol will not be two nights in a row because …”
He waited for Peter to finish the sentence, who rolled his eyes. “Because I have to study, yes, I know. But I studied. And there are no tests coming up in the next two weeks and I’m almost done with the presentation for American History.”
“Great,” Tony answered with a big smile. “This means you can spend some time with your friends. Go out. Be a teenager. Go to the mall or something.”
“Who goes to the mall for fun?” Peter asked with a frown.
“Teenagers,” Tony answered, pointing his mug at him. “Which you would know if you’d act like one.”
Peter stared at him pleadingly. “Spider-Man’s got interesting stuff going on.”
Tony raised his eyebrows. “Interesting stuff, huh?”
Peter zipped his backpack closed. “Yeah.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Peter shrugged. “You know.”
Tony pressed his lips together, the feeling that Peter was hiding something from him intensifying. “If I did, I wouldn’t ask.”
Peter slung his backpack over one shoulder and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, bopping on the balls of his feet while he avoided Tony’s eyes while trying to look as if he wasn’t. “An investigation.”
Tony hummed thoughtfully. “Are we talking a Vulture kind of investigation or a sensible kind of investigation here?”
Peter’s dark eyes narrowed, his lips pursing into a pout. “You always bring up Toomes.”
“Because you crashed a plane,” Tony answered.
“You have to stop using that as an argument. It’s becoming kind of boring,” Peter answered. He stared at Tony, his eyes wide and unassuming, pleading. “I will be back before my curfew, promise.”
Tony looked at him for a long moment, trying to figure out whether he was a bad parent if he allowed this. He felt like he was winging this whole parent thing since Peter came to live with him about a year ago. At least, with normal, every-day problems, he was able to back his decisions up with literature.
There wasn’t any literature on how to raise a teenage vigilante, though.
He’d checked.
He was considering writing it for other desperate parents who didn’t know whether vigilantism was more important than getting your kid to socialize. “Fine.”
Peter grinned. “You’re the best.” He gave Tony a hug that was so quick they basically just bumped chests and ran out the door.
Tony looked after him and took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I’m gonna regret this,” he murmured.
***
It wasn’t that Tony wanted to spy on Peter. Peter’s suit just had an AI installed that was very similar to Tony’s own. Karen was there to keep Peter company and make reasonable decisions when Peter couldn’t. She was also able to tape Peter’s patrols and Tony had access to watch in real-time anytime he wanted.
It was a safety precaution. Nothing more.
All he had to do was open the corresponding app on his phone and he would be able to be right there on patrol with Spider-Man, without Peter even knowing.
Maybe that way, he could find out what he was hiding. If he was hiding something.
The more rational part of his brain told him that this was a huge breach of privacy and Peter would loathe him if he ever found out. But wasn’t that what responsible parenting was about?
To breach privacy and be loathed?
The movies made that out to be a huge part of it.
“Tony?”
He startled out of his thoughts and turned his attention to Pepper, who was sitting opposite him at the table. The quiet murmur of the expensive restaurant around them reminded Tony that they were on a lunch date, that Peter would still be in school for at least another three hours and that he was meant to pay attention. “Sorry,” he said. “You were saying?”
Pepper let out an exasperated sigh. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” he answered quickly, going back to studying his menu for a possible dessert.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Peter,” he admitted.
“School trouble? Bully trouble?” She bit her lip, a smirk forming. “Girl trouble?” Pepper knew about Spider-Man, but she wouldn’t mention him in a public place like this. Tony appreciated that.
He shrugged. “None of those, just …” He shook his head. “I feel like he’s not telling me something.”
“Ah,” Pepper said, realization dawning on her pretty face, and she cleared her throat. “Tony, Peter is a teenager now. He’s bound to grow apart from you.” She sounded like she had practiced that speech. Maybe she had been expecting this moment to come. Pepper had the uncanny ability to predict stuff. Or maybe, she just knew him very well.
“I’m afraid he’ll get into trouble. I just … feel like I should be more involved.”
Pepper brushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear and took a sip of wine. “Tony, what’s happening right now is healthy, okay? He is finding his own identity. It’s important for kids his age to do that. Don’t smother him, he will only clam up more.”
“I don’t smother,” Tony answered.
Pepper raised an eyebrow.
“I smother a healthy amount,” Tony amended.
“You’re a mother hen.” She reached out to take his hand. “And that’s okay. But Peter is a responsible young man. What’s the worst that could happen?”
***
“You were stabbed?” Ned whisper-shouted and Peter shushed him quickly, looking around to see whether anyone had heard them, but nobody showed any interest in them. The school canteen was loud and chaotic, as usual, and nobody paid him and Ned, seated at their usual table in the corner, any mind.
“I was almost stabbed,” he corrected, taking a bite of pizza. It was lukewarm and the crust was hard as a rock but the tomato sauce was the best he’d ever tasted. “Anyway, I was home a little too late yesterday because of that and my dad almost freaked out, so … we need to make sure that doesn’t happen tonight or I’ll get grounded for sure.”
“Totally,” Ned answered, chewing thoughtfully. “Or maybe you should tell your dad what we’ve been up to and have him help us?”
“Yeah, right,” Peter scoffed. “He would kill me. I’m not supposed to do big stuff. He was very specific about that after Coney Island.”
“Maybe because you crashed a plane,” Ned replied with a shrug.
Peter sighed.
“You almost died.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Peter replied. “I’m alive. And you’d think he would have started to see me as … I don’t know, an equal? But he still thinks I’m just a kid and it’s so annoying.”
“Well, technically-”
“Don’t say it,” Peter interrupted him. The fact that his dad was apparently unable to see him as a worthy hero was a sore topic for him. Everything had been fine before Coney Island, when all he’d done was go after petty thieves and help get cats out of trees, but his dad’s attitude had changed once Peter had tangled with the Vulture. He wasn’t supposed to take on anything bigger than a car chase and even that was iffy. It hurt that his dad didn’t trust him, that he apparently thought Peter had failed him when fighting Vulture. He would never be able to forget the look on his dad’s face when he’d found him in the kitchen afterwards, hurt and bleeding. He hadn’t seen the accomplishment; the saved tech and the fact that Peter had stopped the plane from crashing into the crowded amusement park right next to the beach or that he’d basically arrested a big name illegal arms dealer.
All he’d seen was Peter getting hurt. Peter needing protection. Peter unable to do the big stuff.
Ned nodded reluctantly. “Fine, no telling your dad. So, you’re all set for tonight?”
“I think so,” Peter answered. “Shouldn’t be too tough.”
“Yeah, right,” Ned said. “You’re just sneaking into a secret evil laboratory, it’s not like you’re stealing the declaration of independence.”
“It’s not an evil laboratory,” Peter answered and shrugged. “It’s just Oscorp. All we need are some pictures and maybe videos of what’s going on there.”
“Are you going to tell Harry?”
Peter’s eyes widened. “That I am Spider-Man and trying to prove his dad is conducting illegal experiments? No way.”
Though he did feel bad for going behind Harry’s back like this. They had been friends from a young age, having met in kindergarten, and were now separated only by the fact that Harry’s dad Norman Osborn had enrolled him into a fancy private school while Peter still went to the same STEM school in Midtown his mom and Richard had picked for him.
The fact that him and Harry had become friends in the first place had almost been ironic, considering that their dads were bitter business rivals. But their friendship was strong enough that neither Normans nor Peter’s dad tried to disrupt it, so they spent every other Saturday together at either Harry’s or Peter’s place.
During one of those visits, Peter, thanks to his enhanced hearing, had overheard Norman Osborn on the phone, talking about mutant experiments in the basement and dire consequences if anyone ever found out. It had piqued his interest, of course, especially since it had been one of Oscorp’s spiders who had given him his powers.
Experimentation on mutations was very limited and mostly illegal, so Norman’s concerns made sense. If something illegal was going on in Oscorp’s headquarters, Spider-Man needed to know and stop it.
Ned’s face had taken on a slightly worried look. “What if his dad could go into prison over this?”
Peter sighed. He’d thought about that himself, but in the end, there was no way around it. “Ned, what they are doing down there is illegal. I have to check it out, gather evidence, no matter if it means he could go into prison.”
“Well, you can count on me to be there,” Ned said. “Well, sort of.” They had agreed that Ned would hack into the suit and follow Peter this way, making sure that he didn’t miss anything of interest.
Peter smiled. “Cool.”
***
The air this high up was cold and Peter was really glad that his suit had a heater or he would have probably frozen solid and dropped like a stone by now.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ned asked yet again, the concern in his voice coming out loud and clear.
Peter huffed a breath and looked at the corner of his HUD where Karen was keeping count of the amount of floors he’d climbed up. He was now on floor 67 of Oscorp Tower in the heart of Manhattan and through the window, he could see a fancy-looking meeting room illuminated by the light of the hallway behind. He quickly climbed on when a security guard strolled past. “It is a good idea,” he insisted. “The more proof the better.” He paused again, clinging to the outside of the building and chanced a look downwards.
New York was spread out around him, a sea of buildings, cars and people, bathed into the soft orange glow of the setting spring sun. He smiled at the view and then reminded himself of the task at hand and climbed on to reach Norman’s office on the 73rd floor.
“But we’ll already get pictures and videos from whatever is down in the basement.”
“I just want to see whether Norman has any papers in his office,” Peter replied, breathing a sigh of relief when he reached the small balcony outside Norman’s office. He looked through the window carefully, barely able to make out the dark room beyond the glass. He knew that Ned could see the same he did, as they had connected Ned’s laptop to the suit’s audio and video system.
“Looks iffy,” Ned said.
Peter rolled his eyes. “It looks fine. He’s gone.”
“So how are you gonna get in there?”
“Karen said there’s a maintenance hatch on the roof, only three floors up. I can probably get in there.”
“Probably?” Ned asked.
Peter stepped back to look up at the roof. “Pretty sure,” he answered.
“Just be careful. You never know …”
Ned’s voice faded into the background when Peter felt a shiver go down his spine, his muscles tensing and his breath stuttering. His spidey sense rang out a clear warning: Something was coming for him.
“… the legal consequences of-”
“Ned, shut up.”
“What?”
“Shut up,” Peter repeated. He turned in a circle, feeling his hands starting to sweat, his body falling into a fighting stance automatically as it readied for an attack, but he couldn’t see anything. “Something’s wrong,” he said, just before his spidey sense screamed at him to get out of the way. He listened, jumping to the side with a flip and coming to stand on his feet again, just as something hard and heavy slammed into him with a mechanical wine and he was pushed over the balcony’s edge.
He screamed, Ned’s frantic voice in his ear until it was cut off suddenly and the ‘Lost call’ signal flashed in front of his eyes as Karen took over and the parachute opened. Peter was ripped to a halt but he knew that he couldn’t stay like this. He shot two webs and pulled himself to the side of Oscorp Tower, detaching the parachute while he looked around … just in time to see green metal shine in the light of the setting sun, heading directly for him. He used his feet to adhere to the wall let the rest of his body fall backwards, ducking out of harm’s way just in time.
As he came up again, he saw the thing come back for him and now saw that it was a man in a green metal suit riding what looked like a green hoverboard. He shot several webs at the hoverboard and heard a curse while he waited for the webs to pull taught before letting go of the wall entirely. He swung underneath the hoverboard and used his momentum to come up on the other side and slam his feet into the man’s chest. He let go of his webs then and let himself fall for a few floors before using a nearby crane to swing himself up again at the figure that was heading for him determinedly.
Peter met him head-on in the air, kicking him in the chest again to hopefully sever his connection to the hoverboard. But the man moved just as Peter’s feet connected, grabbing his wrist, and a moment later, Peter screamed out when electricity hit him, his HUD flickering for a moment and then going dark.
Peter fell, frantically trying to get his limbs to obey him and shoot a web to catch himself before he hit the street.
What got him caught eventually was his attacker snatching him out of the air with a cackling laugh. Peter didn’t hesitate to react, using the man’s chest to push away with his feet and shooting a web at the hoverboard while he did, ripping it clean out from underneath the attacker’s feet and throwing it into the far distance.
The man yelped and fell, landing on the busy street just a couple of floors below them.
People screamed and cars honked as Peter landed on his feet, looking at the guy. He tried to get his breathing back under control, saying, “I don’t think we have met properly.”
The guy reacted by throwing something at him and Peter’s spidey sense reacted, guiding him through evading several little knives that had detached from the man’s glove.
Peter made sure the knives clattered to the street and didn’t hit any of the people around them before he turned back to his attacker. “Come on, man. Be civil.”
Another volley of knives followed and while Peter was able to dodge them without a problem, his evasion brought him straight into the path of another danger approaching him from behind, a danger that his spidey sense recognized too late. He turned just in time to see the hoverboard zoom towards him, one of the sharpened, pointy edges heading directly for his stomach and stepped out of the way. The hoverboard turned and its other end sliced into Peter’s flank as it passed, leaving a deep cut.
He gasped, his hand cradling his side as blood started to drip through his fingers. “Rude,” he panted.
The man got to his feet and stepped onto the hoverboard, approaching slowly. “I would call breaking and entering rude.”
“Depends on the circumstances,” Peter answered. He grimaced as he realized that he was losing quite a lot of blood.
The man approached further, the mean grin stenciled into his mask eerily foreboding, when he suddenly stopped, his head raising and focusing on something in the distance. Then he cursed and before Peter could react, he was heading out, steering his hoverboard upwards and away. Peter cursed and raised his hands to shoot webs but they didn’t reach the man.
A loud metal clunk from behind him and the gasps of the people around him gave away who had just arrived. Peter turned around slowly.
His father was standing there, in his most recent Iron Man suit, the neutral expression carved into his mask focused on Peter. “Spider-Man,” he said, his voice low.
For the onlookers, it probably sounded like a slightly disapproving greeting. To Peter, it sounded like he would be grounded for a month. There was an edge of worry to it that people who didn’t know his dad would probably miss easily. Peter clenched his jaw and, defiantly, webbed the cut in his side shut. He knew how much his father hated him using webs as band-aids. It wasn’t their primary function and it always burned a bit when he did it, the chemicals not mixing well with injuries, but it wasn’t dangerous per se. “Iron Man,” he answered, trying to sound collected and cool through the pain. “No need to stop by.”
“Looked like you could use the assist.”
“Yeah, you were very helpful in letting him get away.”
A group of teenagers laughed at that, one of them calling out, “And mic drop.” They quieted when Iron Man shot them a look.
Peter couldn’t help but smile. He was glad his mask hid the expression, though. The connection between Iron Man and Spider-Man was well-known to the public. It was no big secret that Spider-Man wore a suit created by Tony Stark, but people were divided about what kind of relationship the two heroes actually had. Some thought that Iron Man was Spider-Man’s mentor, others thought they were friends. Thinking that Spider-Man was actually Tony Stark’s son was apparently something nobody thought was likely, though many thought that Spider-Man was younger than Iron Man.
Peter straightened a little further, trying to signal to his dad that he was fine to swing home on his own. “Well,” he said, “thanks for the assist.” With that he shot two webs and swung away.
He knew that his dad wouldn’t follow him. It wasn’t necessary.
He would wait for Peter at home.
***
“Take off the suit,” his dad said as soon as Peter entered the penthouse through the balcony door, tossing Peter’s pajama bottoms his way. Their first-aid kit was open on the kitchen island, which was the only spot of light in the dim living space. The sun had almost set and only a few rays still managed to reach the penthouse. Peter’s dad was dressed in old jeans and a band t-shirt. He looked casual and relaxed at first glance but Peter knew him better and he could see the tightness around his eyes and mouth. He turned away to make himself a coffee while Peter cracked open a vial of dissolvent to make the webs melt off. He shrugged out of the suit and put on the pajama pants before he settled on one of the stools at the island, turning his injured side towards the light to give his dad a good view of the cut. He grabbed a wad of gauze from the first aid kit to press it against the injury when it started to well with fresh blood.
They remained silent while his dad tended to the wound, disinfecting it and then putting in a few stitches to help it heal faster before he covered it carefully.
“That all?” he asked.
Peter nodded.
His dad nodded as well and snapped the lid of the first aid kit shut. For a moment, it was quiet.
Then Peter started the conversation they would have to have. “Dad, I had it handled, there was no-”
“You had it handled?” his dad asked, huffing a disbelieving laugh. He motioned at the bloody gauze on the island. “Really?”
“You can’t blame me for what happened,” Peter said heatedly. “He attacked me.”
“And you didn’t call for assistance!” his dad answered.
“I didn’t need it!” Peter slid off the stool and grabbed a hoodie jacket he’d left draped over the back a couple of nights ago to shrug into. He zipped it closed angrily. “I’m not a baby! I can do this, why are you always on me?”
His dad’s mug hit the island hard enough that it chipped, but he didn’t pay that any mind, his dark eyes glaring at Peter in angry exasperation. “Because you’re just a kid! When will you learn that you cannot handle this kind of stuff?”
The words hurt, confirming once again that his dad didn’t trust in Peter’s abilities. He swallowed and crossed his arms, answering, “I handled the Vulture.”
“God damnit, Peter, stop pretending as if that means anything! You were lucky! Extremely lucky. You could have died!”
“Stop telling me that,” Peter answered. “I can’t listen to this anymore. You tell me that I should be dead five times a week, dad. Just stop! I’m not! I took him down, I saved your tech! Me, on my own! Because you didn’t listen to me when I told you that he was dangerous.” His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Why can’t you trust me?”
His dad stared at him, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth to answer, but then shook his head and turned away.
Peter felt rejection dig into his chest, clawing at his throat. Tears welled in his eyes. He turned and went to this room, ignoring his dad when he softly said, “Pete.”
He wanted to be alone.
***
The knock on Peter’s door came about two hours after he’d gone to his room and while he was trying to focus on his AP Bio paper. It wasn’t due for another month, but he was unable to sleep and it was a little early for that anyway.
Besides, the argument with his dad replaying over and over in his head.
The door cracked open and Pepper asked, “Can I come in, honey?”
“Yeah,” Peter answered, turning around in his chair to look at her.
Pepper had apparently already come home a while ago since she was changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants, her hair tied back casually. She was holding a pizza box in her hands. The smell of cheese, tomato sauce and salami wafted through the room and Peter’s stomach growled in response. Pepper laughed at the reaction and handed the pizza over. She settled onto the edge of the bed while Peter devoured the first slice, waiting for him to take the edge of his hunger off before she slowly said, “Tony told me you guys had a fight.”
Peter paused for a moment and then he shrugged.
“He also told me about what happened tonight with that guy on the hoverboard,” Pepper continued, tilting her head. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” Peter answered, wincing.
Pepper nodded in understanding, but she said, “You know he’s just trying to look out for you.”
“He treats me like a baby.”
“Because he loves you-”
“It’s got nothing to do with that, Pepper. I know he does. But he’s … smothering me. It was a bit like that from the start, but since Toomes, it’s even worse. He acts like I messed that up and now I need constant surveillance.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t mess up. No matter what he thinks. And I don’t need a babysitter.”
Pepper seemed to think about his words for a moment, her expression set into a frown. “It’s not about whether you messed up or not, Peter. It’s about the fact that you got hurt. He feels responsible for you. That doesn’t go away whenever you put on the suit. He’s still your parent.”
Peter shook his head. “He doesn’t trust me. I …” He swallowed. “I’m trying so hard, Pepper, but it’s like no matter what I do, it’s not good enough for him. He’s got all these protocols and safety measures and today, he turned up in the middle of a fight like …” He shook his head. “It’s embarrassing.”
“From what he told me and from what I saw on tv, that guy seems to be quite dangerous. He tried to kill you.”
“So did Toomes,” Peter answered, rolling his eyes. “And I handled it. I took care of it after he didn’t believe me that Toomes was a threat and I saved a bunch of Avengers tech and managed to avoid the plane crashing in the park, not that he’s interested.” He looked at Pepper miserably. “I just want to be like him, you know? To make him proud.” He shook his head. “But it’s like he doesn’t even see it.”
***
Long after Pepper had left and the pizza was gone, Peter still couldn’t sleep.
He was sitting at his window, staring out over the blinking lights of the city. Oscorp Tower wasn’t that far away and most windows were dark at this time of night, the neon-purple Oscorp logo easily visible in all its glory now that the sun had set.
Peter stared at the top floors thoughtfully, replaying the events from a few hours ago. The guy who had attacked Peter must have been connected to Oscorp somehow, he mused. Maybe he was even a result of their illegal trials with mutations.
Which would mean that he was proof for Oscorp’s wrongdoing.
The media had been loud about the encounter, wondering who the man was that they had dubbed the Green Goblin. Peter thought about telling his dad everything he knew, but he wasn’t sure whether he would even believe him.
He was pretty sure that he would be grounded tomorrow in any case.
Peter clenched his fists, staring at Oscorp Tower, a thought forming. He wasn’t grounded yet. And maybe, if he showed his dad proof … he looked at his suit and the rip in the side where the hoverboard had cut him and then remembered the spare suit Tony had made for him in case he ever needed it.
It wasn’t even in the workshop, but folded neatly in a suitcase in Peter’s closet.
He smiled.
***
Pepper entered the bedroom, switching off the bathroom light before she joined Tony in bed, settling in comfortably to read for a bit.
Tony was already in bed, staring at his phone moodily. He hadn’t asked what Pepper and Peter had talked about and also hadn’t brought up the incident with the Green Goblin at all after he’d told her that Peter had got hurt. She knew him well enough to know that he was probably trying to work through what had happened and the implications himself. She also thought that it couldn’t hurt to give him a nudge in the right direction. “Do me a favor,” she said, “and try to talk to him tomorrow instead of just grounding the suit. Really talk to him.”
“What did he say to you?” Tony asked, turning his head to look at her.
“I think he feels that you don’t trust him when he’s out in the suit.”
Tony sighed deeply and set his phone aside. “I can’t, can I? He’s out there, taking stupid risks and getting himself hurt and I’m supposed to just trust that it’ll work out somehow?”
“Look who’s talking,” Pepper said.
“And that’s why I know best.”
She sighed, shaking her head.
“He’s really trying to prove himself to you, Tony, and I think you of all people know how hard it can be when your efforts are rejected by your father.”
Tony scoffed. “I’m not rejecting his efforts.”
“Really? Have you ever told him that you’re proud of him for taking Toomes down?”
“No,” Tony answered. “Because he shouldn’t have done that.”
“But he did and he managed.” She frowned at him. “You never told him that you’re proud of that?”
Tony bit his lip, averting his eyes.
Pepper shook her head. “I can’t believe you right now.”
“I didn’t want to encourage him,” Tony said.
“Yeah, well”, Pepper said, “not telling him might just have given him more motivation to get in over his head than acknowledging it would have, because that kid is trying to get you to see him as an equal and he’s not going to stop until you do.”
“You think so?” Tony asked.
“He’s your son,” Pepper answered. “I know so.”
***
Getting into Oscorp’s ventilation shafts was surprisingly easy.
Then again, Peter thought, they probably didn’t expect anyone to enter through there.
He quickly found a way down into the basement and, when he didn’t see anything of interest, further down still to the second subfloor. There he paused, looking through the slits of a maintenance hatch to find a small hallway, just large enough to hold the entrance to an elevator and an opaque door with a hand and eye scanner opposite it. The elevator was secured with a hand scanner and a card reader.
“That’s a lot of security,” Peter whispered.
“It’s suspicious,” his AI Karen agreed.
Peter crawled further through the shaft, passing into the restricted area. “It’s too easy,” he whispered. He saw a corridor underneath, some doors branching off. He ignored those in favor of the door at the end which again was secured with a hand and eye scanner. The air shaft made a sharp turn upwards and narrowed considerably. “I shouldn’t have had that pizza,” Peter muttered, looking at it dubiously.
“According to my calculations,” Karen said, “you should fit. It’s not going to be comfortable, though.”
“Well,” Peter answered, using his hands to pull himself upward. “This whole mission hasn’t been comfortable.” The shaft evened out after a short while, but stayed just as narrow. Peter pulled himself along until he saw a brightly lit room through a hatch. He listened for any sounds but aside from mechanical whirring and hissing, he couldn’t hear anything. He thought it couldn’t hurt to double-check, though. “Karen, are we alone?”
“Confirmed,” she answered. “No life signs detected.”
“Any surveillance?”
“Not in this room, just the corridor outside.”
“Probably doesn’t want to make any video footage that could be used against him,” Peter muttered and gave the hatch a push to open it. It moved downward, swinging on its hinges, and Peter moved out of the shaft to drop to the tiled floor. He breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the tight air vent and looked around. “Karen, start recording.”
The room was big and equipped with several workbenches, all of them decked out with computers. The computers were all locked with passwords, so Peter let them be for the moment and instead focused on two glass doors in one corner of the room. Beyond one, he could see what looked like a state-of-the-art lab and he made a mental note to look at that shortly. The other door led into a small chamber, just big enough for one person to comfortably stretch in. A control panel was located by the door and this one wasn’t password protected. Peter navigated to the main menu and then the audit, reading through the lines carefully. His heart started to beat faster when he realized that he was looking at proof for what he’d heard Osborn talk about.
The chamber had been opened a few days ago and one person had entered who was then subjected to a gas they called AR-38. The experiment had been a success.
“What’s AR-38?” Peter asked. “Karen, can we hack into one of these computers?”
“I think that is going to be very difficult and time-consuming, Peter.”
He noticed a little hatch in the door and clicked it open, revealing an empty glass container that had AR-38 stenciled into its side. Peter removed it from its holder and looked inside, noticing a small amount of green liquid pooled at the bottom. “We’re taking that,” he said and tucked it into a small pouch by his hip. Then he turned to enter the lab, but Karen’s voice made him freeze.
“Peter, somebody’s coming.”
His heart skipped a beat. “What?”
“The elevator just started to move.”
“Crap.” He quickly moved back to the opening in the air vent and pulled himself inside. It was difficult due to the space being so small, but he managed and pulled the hatch closed just as his danger sense started to buzz. “Crap, crap, crap,” he muttered. If it were just a security guard or even an employee coming down here to check on things, his danger sense surely wouldn’t react. The reaction meant that whoever was coming, they were a danger to him specifically. He wondered whether he should move and leave, but that was when the door opened.
Peter held his breath.
Heavy footsteps entered the room. Peter saw a glint of green metal.
Green Goblin.
So he was connected to Oscorp.
His danger sense shrieked and he pulled himself forward just in time. At the place where his legs had been just before, the air vent dented with a hit. The next hit came in front of Peter, far enough away not to be a danger to him, but … he had no way out now. The impacts had flattened the shaft so much that it would be impossible for him to fit through. He moved out of the way when another hit pierced the vent close to his face, a metal hand grabbing the jagged edges of the hole that had been created and pulling down. The shaft was ripped from its suspenders and crashed to the lab floor.
Peter was quick to react when the top of the vent was ripped open savagely and kicked the Green Goblin backwards, using the momentum to jump out of his reach and cling to the ceiling.
Green Goblin was looking up at him, the metal face twisted into a steady, manic grin. The only part of his actual face Peter could see were his eyes, which were dark and narrowed in hatred. “You think you can just waltz in here?” he asked. “Without me noticing?”
“I thought I’d try,” Peter answered. He clenched his jaw and swung off the ceiling, catching Green Goblin in the face with his foot, causing him to crash back into the wall. Shooting webs, Peter tried to pin him there, but the man moved out of the way too fast and picked up the air vent to haul it at Peter. He ducked out of the way and shot a web at Goblin’s face, right where his eyes were.
Goblin raised a hand protectively and the webs caught his fingers instead. Peter launched forward to punch him in the face, feeling the metal of the mask dent under his fest and hearing Goblin scream out in pain as he stumbled backwards.
Peter followed up with another punch and then another and shot webs at Goblin’s eyes again, this time not missing. Goblin stumbled back even further. Peter shot another web, this one clinging to Goblin’s helmet and gave a sharp yank to rip it off his head.
The helmet clattered to the floor and Peter stared at Goblin’s exposed face in shock. Norman Osborn himself looked back at him, his face pulled into an expression of revulsion.
“What?” Peter asked.
Osborn moved, his hand shooting forward and throwing a ball that exploded as soon as it was near Peter, enveloping him in a cloud of smoke. He was disoriented for a moment, reacting purely out of instinct when his danger sense told him to jump out of the way. He jumped up, clinging to the ceiling but a hand wrapped around his ankle and pain raced up his leg, electricity shooting through him. His HUD short-circuited and went out, his hands losing their grip on the ceiling.
He fell to the floor, still in a tight grip, still feeling electricity go through him.
And then it stopped.
Peter laid on the floor, panting for breath, his muscles unable to listen to him, still reeling from the attack. The smoke cleared and Osborn leaned over him. A piercing pain brought his attention to a hypodermic needle being pushed into his thigh.
Peter tried to move away but his body wouldn’t listen to him. A numb feeling started to spread from his thigh up his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Osborn leaned over him and reached out a hand, tugging Peter’s mask off and throwing it to the side. He paused in shock. “Stark?” he asked.
Peter grit his teeth, his eyes focusing on a piece of air vent that hung from the ceiling precariously.
“Did you seriously think,” Osborn asked, his hand grabbing Peter’s throat and squeezing, “that you could just waltz in here and destroy everything I worked for?”
Peter gasped for air, the numb feeling in his body intensifying. Whatever Osborn had given him, it was starting to paralyze him. Knowing that he didn’t have much time, Peter moved his hand slightly, aiming his web-shooter at the piece of air vent.
Osborn’s grip around his throat tightened. “Your daddy will never even know what happened to you,” he growled.
Dark spots started to dance in front of Peter’s eyes. He shot the web and pulled the shaft the rest of the way down to land on Osborn’s head. He fell to the side, momentarily stunned and Peter rolled away, coming to his knees while Osborn was starting to come around again and knocking him out with one well-placed punch.
He made sure to web the man’s hands and feet to the floor before he collapsed, the injection taking full hold over his body. His HUD flickered to life again and Karen’s voice returned, still slightly garbled, “… ‘mergency, Peter.”
“Call my dad,” he whispered. “Please.”
Everything went dark after.
***
Peter woke to the smell of disinfectant and a low beeping.
He breathed in, trying to orient himself and a hand came to rest on his wrist, squeezing gently. “Pete?”
He turned his head, blinking his eyes open. His dad looked at him in concern, but masked the worry with a smile when Peter met his eyes. “Hey, buddy.”
Peter swallowed. “Hey,” he whispered. He now recognized one of the rooms of the small infirmary located in Avengers Tower. He knew then that he couldn’t be hurt too badly. The infirmary hadn’t been staffed since the fall-out between the Avengers. His dad probably only had brought him here to be able to monitor his vitals easier.
“How are you feeling?”
Peter thought about that for a moment, then he answered, “Okay.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
His dad looked relieved. “That’s good. Do you remember what happened?”
Peter frowned, his memories returning slowly and reluctantly. He nodded, giving his dad a careful look.
His dad nodded as well and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t seem sure what to say or how to say it. The silence stretched, becoming uncomfortable.
In the end, Peter couldn’t bear it anymore. “I’m really sorry, dad.”
“Are you?”
Peter bit his lip. “No. Not entirely. I’m not sorry I went after him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“And you should be,” his dad answered. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when I found you in that lab?”
Peter averted his eyes. “Sorry.”
“I told you,” his dad continued, “that you aren’t ready to take on the kind of opponent that is the Vulture or the Goblin.”
Peter bit his lip, fighting against an onslaught of tears.
His dad reached and took his chin in a gentle hold, tiling Peter’s head to look at him, and very gently said, “I was wrong.”
Peter’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
“I’m not saying,” his dad quickly added, “that it was right of you to leave the Tower – injured – and sneak into Oscorp Tower to fight the Goblin-”
“To be fair,” Peter interrupted him, “I didn’t really expect to be fighting the Goblin.”
His dad huffed a breath. “My point still stands. You shouldn’t have left without telling me.” He leaned back in his chair. “But I see that I didn’t give you much of a choice, probably.” He pressed his lips together. “So we’ll need to work on that.”
“Okay,” Peter said. “Okay, yeah, we can do that.”
“Find ground rules.”
Peter nodded.
“Get you some proper training.”
“Oh, can Rhodey train me?” Peter asked immediately.
His dad raised his eyebrows. “What, am I not good enough?”
“You’re …” Peter paused.
“I’d be very careful about what you say next,” his dad said.
Peter grimaced. “Your expertise is not really hand-to-hand combat? And Rhodey has done quite a bit of it. And I know he did train you, so …”
His dad hummed thoughtfully and finally nodded. “I can accept that.”
“What about Osborn?” Peter asked. “He saw my face.”
His dad shrugged. “Nobody will believe him if he tells anyone. The serum that turned him into the Goblin screwed with his mind, apparently. Who in their right mind would become a super-villain the second they receive powers? And who would believe that Tony Stark’s son is Spider-Man anyway? No parent would let their kid chase criminals at night.”
He winked at Peter who gave him a smile in return.
His dad heaved a sigh then and got up from his chair. “I should probably let you get some more sleep. I’ll go grab a coffee.”
“Okay.”
His dad leaned in and pressed a kiss against his forehead, his thumb brushing Peter’s cheek. “I love you, kiddo,” he said softly.
Peter smiled at him. “Love you too, dad.” He fiddled with the blanket while his dad headed for the door, snuggling back into the pillow and closing his eyes to try and take a nap when he heard his dad say, “Hey, Spidey?” He looked at him curiously.
His dad was smiling. “I’m proud of you.”
Peter smiled back at him, a warm feeling swelling in his chest. “Thanks, dad.”
“You’re also grounded for two weeks.”
Peter groaned. “Dad!”
But he was already gone.
END
12/2020