Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hmmm... the sizing might be... a tad off."

Peter straightened up and pulled his shoulders back, trying to look as tall and professional as possible in the fresh white lab coat that Tony Stark (yes, the Tony Stark) had just given him. The problem was that it was about three sizes too big.

"Yeah, I'm... usually a ss... er, medium," Peter said sheepishly.

Tony nodded, raising an eyebrow. "Medium," he said dryly. "Right. With a size fifteen shoe, I take it."

Peter looked at his reflection in the shiny metal door. His small frame did look rather ridiculous in a coat that fit him about as well as a dollar store rain poncho (especially standing next to Stark, who was dressed resplendently in a gray tailored suit).

"Take that off," Tony said. "You won't be able to handle anything safely with mile-long sleeves. I'll get you a proper one tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that, Mr. Stark," Peter said shyly, shrugging off the gargantuan jacket and hanging it back up on the rack.

"I do, actually," Tony replied, pressing a button to open the laboratory doors. "You'll need to be properly dressed, but we'll let it slide for now. Forgive me for being underprepared. I don't have much experience with fourteen-year-olds in the lab."

"Sixteen, sir," Peter said defensively, tilting his chin upward.

"Close enough," Tony shrugged. "Follow me."

Peter could hardly contain his excitement. When he had contacted Tony Stark about the possibility of volunteering for Stark Industries, he didn't expect to get a reply, let alone an offer for an apprenticeship.

Tony could hardly contain his apprehension. When he had gone searching for some fresh faces to round out his team, he hadn't expected to welcome a high school sophomore into his lab.

He'd scouted the local universities and contacted their alumni, but despite their qualifications, none of the candidates had seemed quite right for the job. Yet... this kid - this literal child who hadn't even seen the job posting - sent him a video essay outlining the reasons why he wanted to be involved with Stark Industries and would be an outstanding addition to the team. He didn't even want to be paid; the kid just wanted to be there on his own time. It was some of the most desperate Gen-Z shit that Tony had ever heard of.

There was just something about the sheer audacity of Peter Parker that made Tony want to meet him, so he did. He met him at a local café and had a candid conversation with him over coffee (or, in Peter's case, a steaming mug of hot chocolate that he had been too anxious to drink). The kid was smart as hell and about as enthusiastic as could be, which was rather refreshing in contrast to the self-important scientists and engineers with whom he was accustomed to working. The boy's eyes nearly bugged out of his head when Tony offered to pay him for his time.

"Y-you..." Peter had stammered. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Everybody needs money, kid. You will be fairly compensated. Can you start Monday?"

And that was that. Happy picked Peter up immediately after school, stopping at the drive thru of his choice (Wendy's), and dropped him off in front of Stark's Manhattan mansion.

Today's goal was just to give Peter a tour of the facilities and get him used to some of the equipment that he would have access to. As they strode into the lab, it became apparent that he would need to do very little to pique the kid's interest. He was positively agape with wonder.

"Wow," Peter murmured. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Not exactly your high school's science lab, is it?" Tony smirked, gesturing around at the sparkly array of machines.

"Will I... get to use any of this?" Peter asked anxiously.

"That's kind of the idea," Tony quipped. "One thing at a time, though. There's a bit of a learning curve; some of these machines are rather advanced, while the others are working prototypes. We can start with a tour of sorts."

"What is this for?" Peter asked, pointing to what looked like a large glass display case standing atop a metal post. There was a small clear tray suspended in the centre, held up by four prongs extending to the case's four corners.

“This?” Tony said casually, gesturing toward the two-foot-wide cube. “It’s nothing, really. It’s only the single most powerful microscope you’ve ever seen in your life. Let me give you a demonstration.” He reached over and carefully plucked a single hair from the side of Peter’s head.

“Ow!” Peter exclaimed, clapping his hand over his temple and rubbing gently. “What was that for?”

“Science,” Tony responded simply. He reached for what appeared to be an ordinary (yet unusually large) microscope slide on a nearby table and carefully placed the hair on top. He slid open the front panel of the cube and positioned the slide on the inner tray. Once it was properly situated, Tony closed the door and stepped over face the machine on the right. It was an odd-looking device with a flat top that that resembled a black washing machine.

Tony pressed a button. Immediately, the walls of the cube appeared to darken, and a holographic image appeared above the machine.

"What the heck?" Peter exclaimed, his eyes widening. "That looks like... a giant worm?"

"That is a 3-D rendering of the hair inside the microscope," Tony said. Peter's view of the inside of the cube was now completely obscured by the dark, mirrored walls.

"You can't see it," Tony explained, "but there are dozens of tiny drones inside that are scanning the sample on the tray. The walls of the enclosure are actually specialized screens that work to polarize light in the optimal way, allowing the drones to compose an image, which is then projected by this little guy." Tony affectionately patted the top of the washing machine... projector thing.

"That is so cool," Peter said, positively beaming. "How much does something like this cost?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Tony said. "You haven't even seen the best part!" He reached up toward the hologram and swiped gently to the side, rotating the projected image. Peter gasped.

"This is no ordinary projector," Tony went on. "The sensors inside allow you to manipulate the image at will. You can rotate it in any direction, zoom in and out, and save still images and video to the drive. Try it out. Pretend it's your phone screen."

Peter cautiously stepped forward and reached up into the hologram, slowly spreading apart his finger and thumb. Sure enough, it zoomed in closely on the holographic hair.

"Unbelievable," Peter breathed.

"That's some healthy hair you've got, Fabio," Tony said, nodding in approval as he inspected the image. "Nice, smooth cuticle."

"Thanks!" Peter said brightly. "The secret is conditioner."

"The scientific method at work," Tony muttered. "Anyway, feel free to try it out."

Peter's face shone with excitement. "I can use it?"

"If you're going to work in the lab, you're going to have to get used to the equipment, and this is a good place to start. Fresh slides are stored there," Tony said, pointing to what looked like a small safe on a shelf below, "and dirty ones go in there for automatic cleaning." He opened up the cube, removed the slide, and deposited it into a small slot on the top of the cleaning machine.

"That's amazing," Peter said. "What should I analyze?"

"Anything you want," Tony said. "Something from your bag, drop of spit, scraping from the bottom of your shoe, who cares? Just play around with it and see what you can do."

The deep rumbling of distant thunder resonated through the lab.

"Shit," Tony said. "The storm is getting closer. I need to go check on some things. I'll be back." He turned on his heel to leave before Peter could object. "Be good, Parker. You break anything, and I'll break your legs!"

Peter's jaw clenched at that. He looked around him at all the incredible, top-of-the-line equipment that surrounded him. How could Mr. Stark trust him to use it alone?

His face quickly melted into a smile. What did it matter? Mr. Stark trusted him! TONY Stark!

He eagerly rummaged through his bag for something that he could examine. His fingers brushed against something small and rubbery at the bottom of his bag... an eraser! He quickly fished it out.

Bingo! The once bright-pink eraser was now worn, dirty, and pockmarked, making it the perfect specimen to explore with the coolest microscope he had ever seen. He fetched a clean microscope slide and placed the eraser on top of it, then slid open the sliding door of the glass cube just enough to place the slide on top of the suspended platform.

BANG!

ZzzZzzzt.

CRASH.

...

The lab was suddenly pitch black, and Peter was on the ground propped up onto his forearms with his heart pounding in his ears.

What the hell just happened?

He placed his hands on the ground to push himself back up and was immediately startled by the crunch of broken glass beneath his palms.

NO...

The cube... he had shattered the door. He must have.

Frantically, he groped around for his backpack and plunged his hand inside, fumbling for his phone. He yanked it out of the bag and turned on the flashlight with trembling hands.

Fuck.

It was even worse than he thought. The entire cube had been torn from its perch and reduced to a heap of broken glass. Several of the mini drones had been crushed.

Peter immediately broke into a cold sweat. "Oh God," he whimpered. "No... this can't be happening..."

Trembling, he reached toward the pile of destruction with his free hand while pointing the light with the other, but stopped short when he saw a fat drop of liquid fall from the end of his finger and splash into the pile below, painting the shrapnel a brilliant shade of red. He looked down in horror at his arm, which was predictably sliced up from his fall.

He dropped his phone and whipped around, his head clouded in panic. Tony Stark was going to murder him. He didn't know where to go, but he knew he needed to get the hell out of there. He stumbled in the direction of the lab door, which had mercifully been left open, allowing the tiniest bit of ambient light from the hallway to spill into the dark, cavernous room.

The power was out in the entire building, but despite the angry black storm clouds filling the afternoon sky, there was just enough light coming in through the windows to illuminate the Peter's path to the nearest exit. He shoved open the first door that he came across and kicked it shut behind him. For a moment, he stood under the overhang to shield himself from the torrential rain and stared out across the open yard. Where was he supposed to go? He sure as hell couldn't get home on his own in this storm. He kicked himself for not bringing his suit or web-slingers with him, but he had been afraid that Tony would search his bag, and he had no intention of discussing his extracurricular adventures with his new boss.

His eyes fell upon a small gardening shed on the other side of the yard. It would have to do. He could hide there until the storm passed and then slip away unnoticed. He sprinted toward the shed, blinking the rain out his eyes and struggling to keep his balance on the slippery ground. He skidded to a halt in front of the door, beyond grateful to find that it was unlocked. He hurried inside, yanked the door closed behind him, and scrambled to find a hiding spot in the back. Finding surprisingly little to shield himself with, he dove into the back corner, slipping behind a small wheelbarrow. He leaned against a large bag of topsoil, tilting his head back and fighting to catch his breath. He could feel the warm blood slipping down his arms, so he pulled them in close to his chest.

Now, he thought, We wait. It will all be over soon.

***************************

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Tony called into the darkness. "Are the backup generators down?"

"The backup generators are currently on standby," F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded. "Would you like to turn them on?"

"Yes," Tony said exasperatedly. "The power is out in the entire building. The generators should be coming on automatically."

"They have not been programmed to turn on automatically in the event of a power outage, but I will initiate them now."

Tony sighed. With all of the time and money that he had invested into disaster prevention for the mansion, he had apparently neglected to implement protocols for a blackout.

"Where shall I direct the electricity from the generators?"

"You mean you..." Tony inhaled sharply. "Christ. Okay. For now, direct it into lighting, climate control, and powering major appliances."

The lights immediately came on in the kitchen, and the refrigerator began to whirr.

"At least it works," Tony muttered.

"Ms. Potts has asked me to inform you that she instructed me to power the automatic door-locking system as well."

"There you go, then," Tony said. "Pepper is in charge of the generators, now. She knows what she's doing."

"Very well, Mr. Stark."

Tony hoped that the kid wasn't startled too badly by the thunder. "Are the lights on in the lab?"

"The ceiling lights in the laboratory are currently on."

"Can you show me security feed from there?"

"The security system is currently disabled."

Tony blinked. "Why exactly is it currently disabled?"

"I have not been instructed to power it back on."

"Oh for the love of..." Tony tossed his glasses on the counter and scrubbed a hand across his face. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.," he said with mock sweetness. "Would you be ever so kind as to power on the security system and show me the live footage from the lab?"

"As you wish, Mr. Stark. The system will now recalibrate. Estimated time remaining: approximately ten minutes."

"Good lord," Tony grumbled, snatching his glasses off the counter. "I will just go down there myself."

As he plodded down the hallway, he couldn't help but be transfixed by the rain pounding against the windows.

"Hell of a storm," he murmured. "Bound to be a lot of damage."

When he got inside the lab, he was expecting to find a frazzled teenager fumbling his way through a story of how dark it had gotten in the lab and how he had been scared that it was his fault and was so relieved when the power came back on...

What he found instead was an empty room with a fresh pile of broken glass and an even more fresh trail of blood leading away from it.

"What in the name of..." Tony stood there, aghast, his eyes following the trail back from the shattered microscope to where he stood. "Shit," he muttered. "Fuck." He whipped around and hustled back down the hallway, following the red splatters that he hadn't even noticed on his way to the lab. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.," he called out urgently, "where did Peter Parker go?"

"Peter Parker is no longer in the building," F.R.I.D.A.Y responded. "His exact location is unknown."

"How the hell can that be?" Tony growled.

"The security system is back online," F.R.I.D.A.Y responded. "Mr. Parker is not detected in any of the live feeds."

"Well, keep looking!" Tony exclaimed, picking up the pace. "Alert Pepper, Happy, and all available personnel. Tell them to keep a lookout for the kid. Let them know that he is hurt and probably scared, and tell them to contact me immediately wh..."

The blood trail ended at the door.

"Son of a bitch," Tony said. Had the kid actually left? He couldn't possibly have gotten that far, not in a storm like this.

He threw open the door and looked frantically around the yard, his eyes landing upon the shed. Could it be?

There was only one way to find out. Within seconds, he had summoned his armour, suited up, and launched himself across the yard, landing smoothly in front of the shed. He nearly tore the door off his hinges. The ever-so-helpful and grotesquely vibrant red trail picked up where it left off, leading to the very back of the shed. That stupid kid. What would have possessed him to run off like that?

"Parker?" Tony called, quickly stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. He reached for the light switch, but flipping it into the "on" position yielded no result.

Of course, he thought. The generators only powered the main building.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he said, “give me some light.”

The armour began to glow, casting just enough light to illuminate Peter’s soaking wet form huddling behind the wheelbarrow.

"I can see you, kid. Hide-and-seek is over. You can just... oh..."

The look of sheer terror on the youngster's face gave him pause. He was used to others being intimidated by him, but people didn't typically cower in his presence.

Realizing that the full Iron Man armour wasn't likely to help the situation, he hastily stepped out of the suit.

"Hey,” he said softly, lowering himself to one knee. Peter stared back at him, immobile, eyes wide and swimming with tears.

“You’re okay,” he said gently. “It’s okay.” The boy was white as a ghost and shaking so violently that Tony feared he would pass out.

“What is it?" Tony asked. “Kid, talk to me.”

Peter gulped. He tried to mouth “I’m sorry,” but couldn’t muster more than “s...ss...i...” in between gasps.

“All right, you’re hyperventilating," Tony said grimly. He knew that he desperately needed to assess the boy’s injuries, but he had to calm him down before he could help him with anything else. He hurried to Peter’s side and crouched down next to him.

“Relax,” he said calmly. “Deep breath, okay?”

Peter didn’t seem to hear him. In fact, he seemed scarcely present.

Tony, feeling wildly out of his element, weighed his options for grounding the kid without startling him. Tentatively, he reached out and placed a hand at the bottom of Peter’s ribcage.

“Breathe down into here,” he said. “Deep inhale… let it out slowly… slowly... that’s it. Again. Breathe in... good, breathe out...” His hand rose and fell with each of Peter’s shaky breaths. Peter’s head slowly fell back slowly against the bag of soil behind him as his breathing began to regulate.

“Welcome back,” Tony said with an air of relief, patting Peter’s chest. “You’re okay, kid.”

Tears began to slip down Peter’s cheeks as his laboured breaths dissolved into quiet sobs. Tony, in a state of utter bewilderment, opted to rest his hand on the boy’s shoulder and let him ride it out.

“Take it easy,” he murmured. “No reason to cry. Everything is okay.”

“I broke it,” Peter whispered.

“I know,” Tony said. “Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"It... I don't know, i-it was so fast," Peter stammered. "I was loading something in, and th-there was this... explosion or something in the corner of the lab, and then it was... I was... it..."

"It’s okay," Tony murmured. "No big deal.”

“H-how is not a big d-deal?” Peter hiccuped.

“It’s replaceable,” Tony said simply. “I’ll get a new one.”

“Y-you said that...” Peter gulped, “i-if I broke it, you’d...”

“That was a joke, kid,” Tony replied. “Obviously, I wanted you to be careful in the lab and take this position seriously, but accidents happen.” The wheels were now turning in Tony’s head. “Did you really think that I would hurt you?”

Peter said nothing. Settling into the awareness that he was openly sobbing in front of Tony Stark, he was suddenly overwhelmed with shame. He hastily straightened and tried to stand.

“Now, hang on,” Tony said, keeping his hand firm on Peter’s shoulder. “I need you to show me where you’re bleeding.”

“I’m not,” Peter said, scrambling to his feet and pulling his arms in tightly.

“Oh, you don’t say?” Tony replied, gesturing toward the scarlet trail extending from Peter to the door. “Then do you mind telling me where all that came from?”

Peter’s mouth tightened. He averted his gaze.

“Come here,” Tony said, rising to his feet. “Let me take a look at you.”

“I’m fine, sir. I promise,” Peter insisted, angling his body away from Tony.

“Listen, kid,” Tony said, taking a step toward Peter. “You’re not in any trouble. I don’t care about the machine, or the – frankly – obscenely large amount of blood on my floors. You were injured on my property. I am responsible for you. You will let me look you over if you have any interest in keeping your position here. Show me your arms.”

“I...” Peter’s eyes darted back and forth. “I’m not lying to you sir, I...”

“Enough,” Tony said tersely, raising his arm. “Just...” He stopped short when he noticed that Peter had ducked in response to the accompanying gesture.

“What… did you think I was going to hit you?” Tony asked quietly.

Peter bit his lip. “No.”

Tony studied the boy’s face carefully. “I’m going to need you to sit down before you pass out. Come here.” He took hold of Peter’s shoulders and eased him back down onto the ground. “Let’s see your arms.”

Peter tensed up immediately but allowed Tony to gently pry his right arm away from his body. “Jesus, kid,” he breathed. “You’re going to need some stitches.”

“They’ll heal fine on their own,” Peter said, trying to pull his arm away.

“Like hell they will,” Tony said, angling Peter’s arm toward the light. “They’re still bleeding. We need to close the skin properly... I’m sorry to say that you’ll have some scarring, but we can prevent some of it if we take care of this the right way. F.R.I.D.A.Y., I need more light,” he said. The suit moved closer with its hand extended. Tony examined Peter’s arm under the light shining from the mechanical palm.

“My body is different, sir,” Peter said quietly. “It heals abnormally fast."

“Whatever you say, Hercules,” Tony said airily, inspecting the arm closely.

“Hercules didn’t have healing powers,” Peter muttered. “Only super strength.

Tony looked up, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Is that what you have?” he smirked. “Healing powers?”

Peter clammed up immediately, averting his eyes.

Tony turned his attention back to the arm. “Well,” he said, “healing powers or not, you’re lucky you don’t have any glass shards embedded in this arm. Let’s see the other one.”

Peter reluctantly turned over his right arm, revealing a deep gash in the middle of his forearm.

“Shit,” Tony said, hastily tugging at his necktie. “That one’s bad.” Blood was still spilling from the wound. He tugged off his tie and began wrapping it around Peter’s arm.

“You’ll ruin your tie, sir,” Peter protested, starting to pull away.

“Kid, I swear to Hercules, if you want to keep your arm and your job, you will hold still.”

Peter shut his mouth and hung his head in silence.

Moving with surprising swiftness, Tony secured the tie tightly around Peter’s arm, then pressed his hand against the makeshift bandage. “I’m hoping that will be enough to stop the bleeding.”

He pulled back for a moment to look Peter up and down. The boy looked alarmingly pale. Keeping one hand pressed against the bandaged wound, Tony took Peter’s other hand in his own. His skin felt cold and clammy.

“Do you feel lightheaded at all, kid?” Tony asked. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Peter shrugged halfheartedly. “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “I just... need a minute.”

Tony peered through the small window. The rain looked like it had calmed down significantly. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he asked. “Is the storm almost over?”

“According to local forecasts, the precipitation should be ending within the next ten minutes,” the AI responded.

Tony turned back to Peter. “Do you want to rest here for just a few minutes until the rain stops?”

Peter nodded gratefully.

Tony noticed that Peter was beginning to shiver in his wet clothing. He shrugged off his coat jacket and slipped it over Peter’s shoulders. “Pardon the stains,” he said, alluding to the fresh red splotches on the sleeves. “Haven’t had it dry-cleaned in a while.”

“Does it look better or worse than the lab coat?” Peter mumbled.

Did the boy just crack a smile?

Tony snorted. “It’s more high-fashion, that’s for sure. Just keep this arm out,” he said, sitting down on Peter’s right side and taking a hold of his bandaged arm. “I need to keep pressure on it.” He wrapped his other arm around Peter and, with minimal hesitation, pulled the trembling boy in closer.

“Sir, you don’t need to...”

“Nope, no arguments,” Tony said. “I'm not letting you get hypothermic on my watch. However, I do need you to stay awake, so keep talking.”

“About what?” Peter murmured, leaning back drowsily in spite of himself.

“Anything,” Tony said. “Tell me about your family.”

“My family...” Peter mulled it over. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m trying to make this easy on you, Parker,” he said. “Tell me anything. What’s your dad’s name? What’s your mom’s favourite snack? Any siblings? Any inappropriate uncles that you only see on holidays? Tell me literally anything.”

Tony could feel the boy tensing up in his grasp. “It’s complicated.”

Genuine curiosity was beginning to take over, but he wasn’t trying to stress Peter out, and he did legitimately need to get him talking. “Okay,” he said. “Save that for another day, then. Tell me every element from the periodic table that you can remember.”

Peter visibly relaxed, closing his eyes and letting his body slacken. “Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium...”

Tony's mind began to wander as Peter made his way through the entire list. It occurred to him that he hadn't made any contact with Peter's family, and he wondered if they would be even be okay with him working at Stark Industries. Maybe he was supposed to contact them and get a signature or something. Was that how it worked? He had no idea; he had never hired a minor before. What if he had made a mistake taking him on?

"Did I get them all, Mister Stark?" Peter asked quietly.

Tony looked down into Peter's innocent, imploring eyes. He hadn't even noticed that he had stopped talking.

“You forgot vibranium,” he guessed.

“No, I didn’t,” Peter said.

“Whatever. I wasn’t paying attention.” Tony said dismissively. “But the rain stopped. Ready to get out of here?"

Peter nodded drowsily and slowly pulled himself to his feet with just a bit of help from Tony.

Staring at the weary sixteen-year-old draped in the oversized, blood-stained suit jacket, rainwater still dripping from his curly hair, Tony wondered exactly what he'd gotten himself into. From the day that he met Peter, he knew immediately just how bright, vibrant, and full of potential he was. It was occurring to him now that there was perhaps a great deal more that he would need to learn about the boy in the days ahead if they were to continue working together.

He had no idea whether or not it was worth the risk, but he supposed that he was going to find out sooner or later.

"All right, Peter Parker," he said. "Let's get you inside."

Chapter Text

Tony flew Peter across the yard and into the mansion, despite Peter’s insistence that he could walk. (Tony pointed out – correctly – that no sane person would turn down an opportunity to ride the Iron Man Express).

Once inside, Tony led Peter down to the medical facility in the basement. Peter was thoroughly impressed; it looked like a miniature hospital, except that the equipment inside looked far more advanced than anything he had ever seen before.

Tony instructed Peter to sit down on one of the examination tables and wheeled over an instrument tray.

“Wait,” Peter asked. “You’re doing the stitching?”

“Yes, if you are okay with that,” Tony said, taking a seat on a rolling chair. “I can assure you that I know what I’m doing. I’ve sutured my own leg before.”

Peter winced at the thought but allowed him to proceed.

Tony gave Peter an injection, then prodded gently around the wound to verify that his arm was thoroughly numbed. When he was satisfied, he cleaned the area quickly and made sure that there was no glass remaining before he began stitching.

After pulling the first stitch through, he glanced up at Peter. “You good?”

Peter nodded. “I’m fine,” though Tony noticed that the boy's other hand was clenched tightly in his lap.

He turned his attention back to his work. “Have you had stitches before?”

“When I was younger, I think,” Peter said. “I split my forehead open on the playground, but I don’t really remember it.”

“You’re tough,” Tony remarked, nodding toward the sizeable gash. “You don’t seem fazed at all.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s just a cut.”

“It’s a cut that’s going to need at least eight stitches,” Tony said, tying off the first thread.

“That’s okay,” Peter replied. “I’m just sorry to waste your time.”

“Well, let’s make good use of this time,” Tony said. He looked up again at Peter. “We need to talk about what happened.”

Peter swallowed, nodding solemnly. “It won’t happen again.”

“Now, what exactly are you referring to?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter tilted his head. “I won’t break anything again. I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

“You didn’t shatter the microscope on purpose,” Tony said. “Accidents happen. I can handle shit breaking. Obviously, I would like to avoid collateral damage as much as possible, but I’m a billionaire. I’m not worried about repairs and replacements. It was your reaction that I take issue with.”

Peter began to visibly shrink in his spot.

“When shit happens – and shit will happen – you need to come to me and tell me, not run away.”

Peter nodded. “I’m sorry, sir. It was really immature.”

“I mean,” Tony said, pausing before adding another suture, “I’m not sure if that’s the word that I would use, but would you at least concede that it was not a normal – or at least, healthy – response?”

Peter nodded again.

“Can you tell me what was going through your head at that moment?”

Peter shrugged. “I was confused, and I guess just... really scared.”

“I got that impression,” Tony said, carefully going back in for the next stitch. “Is that something that happens to you a lot? That kind of panic response?”

Peter shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think so?”

“Think harder,” Tony said. “At home, at school... do you often find yourself in fight-or-flight mode?"

“I...” Peter paused. “I guess I’ve never thought about it.”

Tony carefully tied the last of the stitches. “Something to think about, then.”

Peter looked up at Tony hesitantly. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

Tony unwrapped an alcohol pad and carefully swabbed the area around the freshly stitched wound. “I didn’t say that. I’m just a big fan of self-reflection.”

“I’m... reflective,” Peter mumbled.

“Mmmhmm,” Tony hummed. “Like a disco ball.” He wheeled his chair back to get a good look at Peter. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked.

“Nope,” Peter said quickly, flashing a thumbs up with his good hand.

“Lose the shirt,” Tony said. “I know the blood is probably from your arms, but I just want to make sure.”

“No cuts anywhere else,” Peter insisted. “I checked.”

“Nice try,” Tony said. “Remember what I said before? I am responsible for you. I can’t let you go anywhere until you let me give you the once-over. Take off your shirt, please.”

Peter fiddled with the hem of his blood-soaked T-shirt. “I’d rather not.”

Tony sighed. “Would you be more comfortable with somebody else examining you? I could get my wife or my assistant to take a look. Otherwise, the last option is to bring you to a doctor.”

Peter froze. The last thing that he wanted was to be brought to a hospital. He whipped off his shirt. “See?” he said. “No cuts.”

Tony’s mouth formed a tight line when he caught sight of Peter’s torso. Though his skin was mottled with dried blood, he was correct that there were no new injuries. However, his chest and collarbone were peppered with bruises.

Tony walked around to the other side of the examination table. Peter’s back was a similarly vibrant canvas of black, blue, and green.

“Kid,” Tony breathed, reaching forward and letting his fingers brush against Peter’s painted skin. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Dodgeball,” Peter said, wrestling to get the shirt back on. “Took some hits the other day. I get really into it.”

“That’s... don’t put that thing back on,” Tony said, snatching the shirt away from Peter as the wheels turned in his head. “I’ll get you some fresh clothes, and I’ll wrap that arm up properly so that you can take a shower.”

“No, you don’t have to...”

“Kid,” Tony said sharply, “if you could just listen for a minute...”

“I’m sorry!” Peter blurted desperately. “I wasn't trying to be...”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony said quickly, mentally kicking him for sounding far more frustrated than he intended to. “Listen: you’ve had a bit of a day. Right now, you’re soaking wet, tired, and covered in blood. We’re going to get you showered and in some fresh clothes. You'll feel better. Let me just finish this up first.”

Peter sat in silence while Tony covered the lesion with gauze, then wrapped the entire arm in a waterproof bandage. He slipped his hand under Peter’s upper arm and helped him hop off of the table.

“There’s a shower in that bathroom,” Tony said, pointing to the door to the ensuite. “Everything you need is inside. Hop in and get warmed up. By the time you come out, there will be some fresh clothes here for you. Once you’re dressed, let F.R.I.D.A.Y. know that you’re ready, and I’ll come get you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, casting his eyes downward as he plodded off to the bathroom.

Tony sighed. There was something going on with this kid, but he had no idea what to do about it. One thing at a time, he supposed.

He went back upstairs and found Peter a brand new T-shirt and some pyjama pants that wouldn’t fit him too poorly. He brought them back to the medical suite, folded them up, and left them sitting on the chair before leaving the area to give Peter some privacy.

"Mr. Stark," F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced some time later. "Mr. Parker is ready for you now."

Tony returned to find Peter clean, dry (save for his curls), and looking significantly more relaxed than he did before.

"I suppose we're not going back to the lab?" Peter asked.

"No, not today," Tony said. "I'll have to get everything cleaned up in there and put in a call for some inspections to see if the outage caused any electrical damage. Besides that, you'll need to..."

An audible growl cut him off.

Peter wrapped his arms around his midsection. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“That was your stomach?” Tony asked incredulously. “Happy was supposed to take you to get something to eat before you got there.”

“He did,” Peter said hurriedly. “I ate. It’s just...”

“Now you’re hungry again,” Tony muttered. “Teenagers. We’ll stop by the kitchen on the way out. Dinner should be ready soon."

Peter didn’t argue, but he kept his gaze averted as they headed down the hall.

The kitchen staff had prepared pasta and salad. Tony sat across from Peter and watched in mild amusement as Peter mowed down on his food. To have the metabolism of a sixteen-year-old again...

“Glad you’re feeling better, sport,” Tony said, swirling his spaghetti with his fork. “If you’re up to it, we can pick up where we left off in the lab as soon as your arm heals.”

“I can come back tomorrow!” Peter blurted (a bit too quickly). “I’ll be ready.”

“I said when your arm heals. It won’t be healed in a day.”

“How about Wednesday?” Peter asked, not missing a beat.

“Wednesday...” Tony repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. “All right, fine. Come on Wednesday. We’ll assess the situation then.”

Peter visibly relaxed. This job clearly meant a lot to him.

“Now, in the meantime,” Tony said, “can you tell me the best way to contact your parents?”

Peter stiffened. “Why?”

“Well, for one thing, they’re going to want to know why their son is coming home with stitches and a new outfit,” Tony said.

“I’ll explain everything,” Peter said reassuringly. “They’ll believe it. I’m accident-prone.” He looked up suddenly. “But... I mean... I’m not THAT clumsy. Like... it’s not that I’m breaking stuff all the time, just that... they’re used to it... I’m not gonna...”

“I get it,” Tony said, waving his hand. “You’re one of those klutzy genius types. I’ve collected enough evidence. We’ll make it work.” He put his fork down. “But while I’m sure I can trust you to tell the whole story,” he said sarcastically, “I still need to contact your parents. It occurred to me, perhaps far too late, that I should have asked for their consent before adding you to the roster at Stark Industries. They should know the nature of the work that you’ll be doing.”

“I told them all about it,” Peter said, “and they’re fine with it. They’re excited for me. They think it will help me a lot with my college applications.”

“And it will,” Tony said, “but if I don’t get expressed written consent from them, I could be facing a huge problem with liability.”

Peter mulled it over. “Okay,” he said. “I can ask my dad to e-mail you tonight, then you can send him whatever waiver you want him to sign.”

Tony nodded slowly. “That will work.”

Peter instinctively reached for his phone, then realized that he had no pockets and was missing all of his belongings. “Crap...” he said. “I left all of my stuff in the lab.”

Tony stood up. “You finish eating. I’ll go grab it.”

He had been itching to get back to the lab all afternoon: he hadn’t had a chance to fully assess the damage. Pepper joined him in the hallway as he headed back down to the scene of the crime.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

"He's fine," Tony said. "He needed some stitches, but he'll be okay."

"We should contact his parents right away," Pepper said, walking alongside Tony, "so that they're not thrown for a loop when he gets home."

"That was the plan," Tony said, "but he won't tell me how to contact them."

"Wait," Pepper said, blinking, "you didn't get their contact information when you signed him on?"

Tony's mouth tightened. "I wasn't thinking about it."

"Do you know his address?" Pepper said.

"I know what city he lives in."

She rubbed her eyes in agitation. "Tony..."

"I know, I know. This is why you're the one who handles the business side of things."

"You can't just... oh my god," Pepper stopped short upon seeing the blood trail leading up to the lab doors.

"That's just the beginning," Tony said. "Come look inside. Watch your step."

Carefully sidestepping the crimson splatter on the floor, they strode over to the remains of the microscope.

“Holy,” breathed Pepper. “How the hell does that happen?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Tony said. “Those screens were made from specialized tempered glass, and the whole structure was reinforced by a vibranium alloy. It shouldn't have just shattered from an accidental tug.”

“Is this kid made of muscle?” Pepper asked, “or did he destroy it on purpose?”

The latter possibility hadn’t even occurred to Tony. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony asked. “Can you show me the footage that you have leading up to the power outage?”

A screen appeared before the two of them, showing Peter rummaging through his bag and triumphantly pulling out an eraser, his specimen of choice.

Tony and Pepper leaned forward in anticipation as they watched Peter carefully placing the microscope slide in the cube, with one hand on the sliding door. There was deafening explosion and flash of light emanating from the corner of the lab.

In shock, Peter dove toward the ground, and the cube came tumbling down with him.

The footage ended just before the two of them hit the floor.

“My God,” Pepper said. “How did he just... tear that down? He can’t be that strong.”

Tony shook his head in amazement. “He’s athletic, but he’s built like a baby stickbug.” He looked back down at the bloodied pile of glass. “I guess I underestimated him.”

“That’s not normal,” Pepper insisted. “Something is up with this kid.”

Tony reached down and gingerly plucked Peter’s bloodied smartphone out from the pile.

“Give me that,” Pepper said, grabbing a shallow bin off of a nearby table and holding it out. “I’ll have it sanitized.”

Tony placed the phone inside. “I’ll grab his stuff and meet you back in the kitchen.”

As Pepper headed down the hall, Tony picked up Peter’s backpack. Unable to resist, he peered inside. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to see, but it looked like the inside of any average high-schooler’s bag: a red binder, a slightly tattered spiral notebook, and an assortment of forgotten school supplies collected at the bottom. He zipped it back up, shot another glance at the pile of destruction, and walked out of the lab shaking his head.

Minutes later, he rejoined Peter in the kitchen and handed him his backpack.

“Thank you,” Peter said gratefully.

“My wife has your phone,” Tony explained. “She’s cleaning it off for you and bringing it back here.”

Peter thought for a minute. “While we wait for her, I should go clean up the mess in the lab,” he said.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Tony said, raising his hands in protest. “I’ll get it taken care of. I need to sift through the rubble to see if any of the drones are salvageable.”

Peter's face dropped. “I’m so sorry that you have to do that,” he said brokenly.

“Don’t give it another thought,” he said. “Now, Happy’s going to bring the car around in a minute to bring you home. As soon as you get home, though, please have your father contact me.”

“I will,” Peter said with a polite little bow. “You have my word.”

*****************

Wednesday came around a bit too quickly. Most of Tuesday had been spent readying the lab and monitoring the electrical system. Tony wished that he would have given himself a bit more time to research the kid's situation before bringing him back into the lab, but he stayed true to his word. Peter also kept his promise: the e-mail in question had come in at 10:33 PM on Monday night.

Tony had no intention of bringing Peter back into the lab before his injury had healed, but he figured that it would be worth spending a bit more time getting to know him (and perhaps establishing a few new safety protocols). He was waiting by the door when Happy rolled into the driveway, barely having enough time to put the car in park before Peter came leaping out of the backseat.

“Welcome back, Parker,” Tony said. “Ready to try this again?”

“So ready,” Peter said with a grin. “Did you get my dad’s e-mail?”

Tony looked at Peter carefully. “I did, in fact, receive an e-mail from [email protected].”

“Yup, that’s him!” Peter said. “Did he say that everything was fine?"

Tony nodded slowly. “Brian-dot-Parker Seventy-Nine said that your apprenticeship at Stark Industries is very enthusiastically supported.”

“Uh huh!” Peter said, nodding perhaps a bit too emphatically. “He was pretty excited. I mean, he didn’t show me the e-mail...”

“I’m looking forward to future communication with Brian Parker Seventy-Nine,” Tony said, shifting his jaw slightly.

“Haha... yeah... you can e-mail him there... he doesn’t check it very often, but sometimes. He logs on to pay the bills and whatever... but if you need to tell him anything, you can just tell me, and...”

Tony leaned back and folded his arms, opting to let the kid ramble for a while. He was certain that Peter had made a fake e-mail account just to send the confirmation. Clearly, there was something that he didn’t want Tony to know. Maybe he was embarrassed about something that one of his parents did and didn’t want Tony to make the connection for fear of judgement. Maybe he was keeping his apprenticeship a secret because there was no chance that his parents would allow it. The worst case scenario was…

Well, Tony didn’t want to think about the worst case scenario.

Whatever it was, Peter wasn’t likely to confess at this point. Tony would just have to investigate on his own later.

Tony held up the white coat that he had been holding. “Are you going to keep talking, or are you going to put this on?”

Peter smiled, visibly relieved, and reached for the coat.

“First thing’s first, though,” Tony said, pulling it back before Peter could grab it. “Let’s see those arms.”

Peter threw his bag on the ground, shrugged off his jacket, and thrust out his arms.

Tony’s lips parted in surprise.

“I’ll be damned,” he murmured, running his fingers along Peter’s left arm. “The wounds have nearly healed... you can hardly see them.” There were still some visible scratches on Peter’s skin, but one would assume that he had gotten in a fight with a kitten, not a pile of glass shards.

He turned his attention to the opposite arm. “I just don’t believe this,” he said. “Something like that should have taken at least ten days to heal. I’m going to have to take the stitches out today before it heals over completely. Hold still.”

He pulled a small utility knife out of his pocket, flipped it over to the scissor attachment, and snipped each of Peter’s stitches one by one.

“Iron Man carries a pocketknife?” Peter asked with a grin.

“Why not?” Tony said. “Sometimes, the basics are all you need.” He carefully extracted each of the sutures. “Good to go, kid,” he said, “against all odds. I thought you were exaggerating when you said that your body healed abnormally fast.”

“Yeah,” Peter said with a shrug. “I don’t know why. Probably all of the vitamins.”

“The vitamins,” Tony scoffed. “Right. Fresh from the Wendy’s drive-thru.”

“Can we go to the lab now?” Peter asked eagerly, stuffing his windbreaker into his backpack.

“I suppose a deal is a deal,” Tony said, handing Peter the lab coat. “Suit up.”

Peter tossed on the new lab coat and puffed out his chest with pride. It fit perfectly.

“Maybe that was the problem the first time,” Tony mused. “You were just underdressed.”

“I’m ready now,” Peter grinned.

With that, they headed back to the lab. This time, Tony stuck by Peter’s side as they navigated their way through the delightful collection of machines. When Peter wasn’t completely mesmerized by a demonstration, he was talking a mile a minute about the experiments he wanted to try.

Tony found himself consistently surprised by the level of insight that Peter was able to bring to the conversation. He may have had all of the charisma of a bumbling Scout leader, but he also had an incredible scientific mind and had clearly done his research. Though his interests seemed to be pretty well-rounded (he loved math, physics, biology, computer programming... basically anything that he could get his hands on), he seemed particularly invested in medical applications of robotics and nanotechnology. Tony looked forward to the day when he could introduce him to some of the tech that was reserved for the Avengers and their exploits, but that would all have to wait for now. He still needed to make sure that the kid was ready for the challenge and could be fully trusted.

All was going swimmingly until Tony accidentally nudged an empty beaker off of the table during a fluid demonstration, but before he could open his mouth to curse about it, Peter had lunged forward and snatched it out of the air.

Tony’s brow furrowed. “Where the hell were those reflexes two days ago?”

“They were working,” Peter said, placing the beaker back on the table. “They just worked in the wrong direction.”

That just didn’t seem reasonable. Thinking quickly, Tony started to walk away, reaching inside his coat pocket and finding a forgotten ballpoint pen. He whipped around and chucked it toward Peter.

Peter, who wasn’t even looking in Tony’s direction, calmly lifted his arm and closed his fist around the pen as if he had been programmed to do so. “No disrespect, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, turning and walking over to Tony with the pen in his outstretched hand, “but it’s not really safe to throw things in the lab.”

Tony’s jaw slackened as he retrieved the pen from Peter. “That’s some incredible hand-eye coordination you’ve got there, Peter.”

Peter smiled shyly. “Thanks, sir.”

“What, do you do martial arts in your spare time or something?”

Peter visibly tensed up. “What? No, no, nothing like that,” he laughed nervously. “I... I am pretty athletic, though. I did gymnastics when I was younger. That’s probably why.”

“Gymnastics?” Tony repeated. “Like flips and stuff?"

Peter shrugged.

"Prove it.”

Peter stepped back from the table to give himself ample space, then did a seemingly effortless backflip, landing squarely on his feet.

Good lord, Tony thought. This kid, a self-described klutz, could do a standing backflip for fun?

“Very impressive,” Tony said stoically, “but it is not safe to do gymnastics in the lab.”

Peter’s cheeks pinkened. “You said to prove it...”

“I know,” Tony said matter-of-factly. “You should have been more creative.”

Peter’s mouth twitched. He seemed to be far more at ease than he was two days prior, which pleased his new boss. With any luck, the kid would be willing to open up a little more sooner rather than later.

He turned back toward the nearly forgotten demonstration. “Your parents must be awfully proud of you, Parker,” he said.

Peter’s smile tightened. “Yeah,” he said. “They really are.”

“If all goes well here, I’d like to meet them,” Tony went on. “I need to know how a kid like you came to be.”

Peter chewed his tongue. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Maybe one day. They’re really busy with work and everything, and they kind of get nervous around strangers. But... yeah, maybe one day.”

“One day,” Tony repeated quietly.

**********************

Seeing as it was getting close to dinnertime, they decided to call it a day and meet one more time the following afternoon to complete Peter’s orientation.

“You can keep the coat,” Tony said, “just don’t forget to bring it with you.”

“I won’t!” Peter said. “In fact, I’ll wear it home to show my parents. Thank you SO much, Mister Stark. Thank you so much for everything.” He shook Tony’s hand with a level of vigour that Tony really should have been used to by now but could not comprehend.

“You are most welcome,” he said. “Now, get in the car before Happy gets back, or you’re walking home.”

Peter ran down the steps and hopped into the backseat of car. Tony turned and stepped back inside the house just in time to intercept his assistant.

“Happy,” he said in a low voice, “you’ve obviously seen where the boy lives. What’s his home life like?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Happy said. “I watched him go into the apartment building, but that’s about it. Seems pretty ordinary, though not the prettiest building I’ve ever seen...”

“Do you know the address?” Tony asked.

“I know the street address, but not the floor or unit or anything like that.”

“Don’t leave yet,” Tony said. “Wait here for a minute.”

He hustled down the hallway into a nearby room, returning momentarily with a small black box no bigger than an eyeglass case.

“What’s this?” Happy asked.

“Drones,” Tony said. “Four little guys. Do me a favour: wait out front for him to go inside. As soon as he is out of sight, roll down your window and open up the case to release them. I’ll control them remotely.”

“What for?” Happy asked, bewildered. “You want to spy on the kid?”

“No, not exactly,” Tony said, handing over the case. “Just enough to figure out were he lives. Any idea what time he usually leaves for school in the morning?”

Happy blinked. “I think it starts at eight-thirty? Why?”

“Say nothing to the kid,” he said, “but tomorrow, you and I will be paying a visit to Mister Brian Parker Seventy-Nine.”

Chapter Text

Google Search:

...

peter parker

...

Too simple... there's no way that name is unique...

peter parker new york

...

No, Tony thought, frantically jabbing at the backspace key. No. He wasn’t going to go that route yet.

Normally, he had no qualms about mining for information on anyone that he interacted with. This time, though...

He already felt uneasy about having Happy help him with his espionage. It had gone precisely as planned: as soon as Happy dropped Peter off and watched him enter the building, he released the drones. They zipped up and down the sides of the building, with Tony monitoring their activity from the mansion, until one of them spotted Peter on the eleventh floor with the help of facial recognition software. The apartment was at the end of the hallway on the North side, which would make it very easy to find when Tony made his visit.

Happy returned to the mansion shortly after with Chinese food in tow.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” he asked Tony over dinner.

“The kid’s being abused,” Tony said. “I’m sure of it. He’s covered in bruises that are easy to hide, he had a panic attack when he thought he was going to be in trouble, he’s always on edge and way too eager to please... something’s not right.”

“That’s a hefty accusation, Tony,” Happy replied. “Even if it's true, what are you expecting to find?”

“No idea,” Tony said airily. “But I’ll know it when I see it.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Pepper chimed in. “What will happen then?”

“Then I’ll have a nice visit with the Parkers,” Tony said. “Sing the kid’s praises, maybe get some free lukewarm coffee out of it.”

"Tony," she said firmly. "This is serious."

"Damn right it is," he muttered, fumbling with his chopsticks.

"I'm just saying," she said, "if you're jumping the gun on this, there could be major consequences."

Tony knew that she wasn't wrong about that. Part of him wanted to just let this go and devote his time to anything else, but he knew that he couldn't.

Thus, his post-dinner activities consisted largely of him desperately fighting the urge to find out anything that he could before taking the plunge. He was itching to know more about Peter but just couldn't bring himself to hit the "search" button. Why was this so hard?

He tossed his phone on the sofa beside him and buried his face in his hands. "Happy?"

No response.

His right-hand man had settled into a nearby recliner and was thoroughly engrossed in whatever he was watching on his phone.

"Hey, Garfield!" he pressed.

"Hmm?" Happy hummed, his gaze not wavering from the screen.

Tony rubbed his eyes. "No judgements here, Hogan, but I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't watch that kind of stuff with me in the room."

"Wh..." Happy blinked, finally looking up. "No! It's not... Jesus, Tony. Give me a break. Did you see this?" He angled his phone toward Tony.

Tony leaned forward and squinted at the tiny screen. It was some fan-made montage of a man in a strikingly well-tailored red and blue Spandex suit performing some - admittedly - remarkable displays of athleticism.

"The spider guy?" Tony asked incredulously. "That's what's got you so enthralled?"

"He's amazing!" Happy beamed, turning the screen back toward himself. "Look at this... he just lands this somersault like it's nothing."

"Yeah, he seems pretty spry," Tony said. "What's the big deal?"

"You should get his contact information," Happy replied. "Maybe he could be an asset to the Avengers."

Tony barked out a laugh. "The Avengers. Seriously? Some dude in a leotard doing parkour in his spare time?"

"You're thinking of a unitard," Happy mumbled. "Outfit aside... laugh all you want, but this guy's helped a lot of people."

"Then let him keep doing what he's doing," Tony said dismissively, straightening up and grabbing his phone from the sofa cushion.

Happy looked up from his phone. "Sorry, Tony," he said. "You wanted something before?"

"Never mind," Tony said. "I'm going to bed. Be ready to go by 7:30 tomorrow."

Happy nodded, turning his attention back to his phone and cueing up the next recommended clip.

After mechanically navigating through his evening routine, Tony settled into bed next to Pepper.

"You okay?" she asked, glancing up from her book.

"Stellar," he replied, removing his glasses and placing them on the nightstand.

She turned the page and leaned back against the headboard. "For what it's worth, I still think you should hold off," she said.

"It's just a visit," Tony said, rolling onto his side away from her. "Stop overthinking it."

"Oh, I'm the overthinker?" she scoffed, tossing her book to the side. "That's rich. Lights out, F.R.I.D.A.Y!" She leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek before nestling under the covers. "Just be careful, Tony. That's all I ask."

Tony stared out the window across the twinkling cityscape. He desperately hoped that he was overthinking. For perhaps the first time in his life, he prayed that his instincts were completely and utterly wrong.

***********************

Sitting on the rooftop of his apartment building, Peter watched the sun peek out over the horizon, relishing the gentle breeze in his hair. He had really grown to love greeting the dawn this way, even in the colder months. It started out of necessity; leaving his apartment as Spider-Man in broad daylight was unwise, so he would slip out of his window under the cloak of early morning darkness, suit up, climb to the roof, then wait for the sun to rise. It soon became his most treasured time of day, perhaps because the sun's arrival remained his only true source of certainty and stability.

On this particular morning, he sat with his legs outstretched, his left ankle propped by his backpack. He tried flexing his foot and winced. As usual, he had made his neighbourhood rounds before heading home to bed the night before, and in doing so, he managed to save multiple pedestrians from a drunk driver careening out of control down an otherwise calm side street. Though his efforts had been successful, he did not walk away unscathed. For this reason, swinging to school seemed like a far more viable option than walking with Ned.

Fortunately, the broken bones seemed to have healed surprisingly well during the night. Unfortunately, it still hurt like a mothe...

...

Something was wrong.

Peter's eyes narrowed as the hair on the back of his neck began to prickle. He sprang up - careful to land with his weight on his right foot only - and looked around wildly. He saw no obvious signs of danger, and yet...

Full of foreboding, he peered down over the edge of the apartment building. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except...

...was that Happy's car?

The passenger-side door of the Audi opened up...

No.

NO.

What the FUCK was Tony doing there?

Peter's mind - and heart - began to race. He couldn't possibly know which apartment to look for, could he? Even if he knew, how was he supposed to get into the lobby with no key or code? Screw that... he was Tony Stark. Nobody would deny him access to a building if he strode in with enough confidence.

Peter had to move fast. In a frenzy, he tore off his spider suit, stuffed it into his backpack, and slung the bag over his shoulder. He leaped over to the edge of the roof and dropped down to all fours, quickly lowering himself over the edge and scurrying down the brick wall until he reached the ninth floor. (That floor had been evacuated two weeks ago due to a fire, and it remained vacant because of the lingering smoke damage.) He hopped down onto the fire escape, tore open the window, and slipped inside, frantically slamming the window shut behind him. Fighting to ignore the searing pain in his ankle, he sprinted toward the stairwell and climbed up the metal railings until he reached the landing on the eleventh floor.

He burst through the doorway and into the hall just in time to see Tony stepping off of the elevator.

"Mr. Stark!" he gasped, bending at the waist and fighting to catch his breath.

Tony's jaw slackened, but he fought to keep his composure. "Mr. Parker," he said, nodding courteously.

"What are you doing here?" Peter wheezed, clutching at the stitch in his side.

"I was in the neighbourhood with Happy and thought I would pop in to introduce myself," Tony said casually.

"They're sleeping," Peter said desperately. "They won't like being woken up."

"Okay. What time do they normally wake up?"

"I..." Peter faltered. "I don't know, but they won't have much time before they have to get to work, so... it... it won't work."

"No problem," Tony said coolly. "Why don't you tell me when it might be a good time to drop by?"

Peter stared up at Tony, eyes dancing wildly, scouring his mind for something - anything - to say.

"You know what?" Tony said, reaching into his pocket. "I'll just slip a business card under the door, and they can contact me." He pulled out a pen and a card and started writing something on the back as he headed down the hallway.

"No, NO!" Peter exclaimed, hobbling after Tony. "Don't bother, I'll just tell them that you came by, and then my dad can e-mail you..."

"From his very real gmail address?" Tony retorted, avoiding eye contact with Peter. "I'll leave the card. You know, just in case something gets lost in translation."

Peter skittered ahead of Tony, blocking his path.

"Step aside, kid," Tony said calmly.

"Mr. Stark," Peter begged, his eyes bright. "Please... just go... I can explain la...."

Tony angled his body and turned his gaze downward, aiming to step around Peter but instead finding himself swept off his feet and slammed against the wall.

"What the HELL..." he sputtered, staring down at his freakishly strong teenage assailant.

Peter kept Tony pinned to the wall by the forearms, his eyes now ablaze with anger.

"Mr. Stark," he hissed through gritted teeth. "If you have ever, at any moment, held one shred of respect for me, you will NOT go near that apartment. Do... you... understand?"

Tony stared back at Peter in absolute awe, feeling the boy's pulse racing in time with his own. He didn't miss the quiver in Peter's lip as the fury in his eyes began to dissolve in a pool of tears.

For once in his life, Tony was speechless. Despite all of his planning, this was a not scenario that he had prepared for. He knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Peter was not safe in that apartment. He wanted nothing more than to bust down that door and beat the ever-loving shit out of the people who were hurting this kid. He also knew in his heart that Pepper was right: making the wrong move could prove catastrophic.

What was the right move?

At this point, Peter's shoulders were beginning to sag as the adrenaline wore off, allowing the idea that he had technically just attacked his boss to sink in. Nonetheless, he stood his ground.

Eyeing him carefully, Tony cleared his throat.

"Peter," he said quietly, "would you like a ride to school?"

Peter's breath hitched. He nodded fervently, then hastily turned loose of his mentor, swiping the tears from his eyes.

Tony straightened up and adjusted his suit jacket. "Well, then," he said, "lead the way."

Peter hung his head as he retrieved his backpack from the floor and slumped off toward the elevator.

"Are you limping?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter shrugged. "Twisted my ankle coming up the stairs."

"You ran back up the stairs because you saw me?"

Peter nodded. "Through the window."

They rode down the elevator in silence, with Peter fidgeting incessantly with the straps of his backpack and Tony leaning against the elevator wall, hands in pockets.

They both straightened up when they finally reached the ground floor.

"Need a hand?" Tony asked, offering his arm to Peter.

Peter shook his head, stubbornly limping his way out of the elevator and into the lobby. Tony watched him closely as he followed.

Happy was still parked in front of the hotel, once again immersed in his phone. He glanced up at the door, instantly cocking his head in confusion at the sight of Peter.

Tony slipped Peter's backpack off of his shoulders and opened the door for him. "Ran into a familiar face," Tony called out across the seats. "We're giving him a lift."

Happy blinked. "Okay," he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket and turning the key in the ignition. Peter slumped back in his seat, letting his forehead rest against the window.

Tony closed the door behind him and leaned forward. "Happy, if you don't mind, I'm just gonna..." He slid the privacy window shut before settling back in his seat opposite Peter.

Happy nodded in understanding, then directed his attention to the morning traffic.

Tony let Peter sit silently for a few minutes to gather his thoughts, but he didn't want to send him off to school burdened by unnecessary tension.

"Peter," he said finally, "I'm sorry to have caused you any stress. You don't need to say anything right now. All I'm going to say to you is that you have my number. If you ever feel unsafe for any reason, all you have to do is send me a message. We can come up with a code word if you want to make it easy. If you need us to come get you, just text something like... I don't know... 'helicopter,' or 'kumquat.' Wait, no... it can't be too conspicuous. Maybe something related to the lab, like 'beaker,' or 'white coat,' or..."

"Stop, please," Peter said, waving his hand. "It's not like that."

Tony sat back and studied Peter's face. He looked absolutely spent.

"I'm just saying..."

"I know what you're saying," Peter said, letting his head fall back and his eyes close. "You've just got it all wrong. It's a long story. My... okay, look, my relationship with my parents has been a bit rocky over the past few years. They've never hurt me or anything like that. They're just... paranoid. They're worried about everything. So there are trust issues because... you know, dumb stuff I did when I was younger. I've... it's nothing I want to talk about. But I lied to you before. That e-mail address was fake."

Slightly taken aback, Tony opted to refrain from asking any follow-up questions.

"I didn't tell them about the job because... well, they know all about you and what you do, and there's no way that they would let me. I've brought it up before, and they said that it's not safe. They wouldn't even entertain the idea, but I just couldn't turn down the opportunity. I was going to break it to them eventually, but... if Tony Stark showed up at the door to introduce himself, and then dad found out I lied about the job AND forged his signature, it would be over. They'd never trust me again."

Tony eyed Peter for a moment, then turned to look out his own window. The kid was getting better and better at lying.

"I shouldn't have lied to you." Peter bit his lip. "I understand if you want to fire me."

Tony said nothing for a full minute, staring straight ahead as he selected his words carefully.

"Listen," he began. "I knew that that e-mail was the biggest pile of bullshit that ever landed in my inbox, which is saying something considering some of the things that break through my spam filters. You should recognize that, given my status, I have access to a lot of information. I could have gone sniffing around. I could have investigated you. I could have easily tracked down your parents' contact information and dug up half of your family tree while I was at it. I chose not to."

Peter stared out the window in silence, brow furrowed, clenching and unclenching his fists in agitation.

"I chose not to," Tony went on, "because I wanted the truth to come from you. If we're going to cultivate an effective working relationship, I need to know that I can trust you. I'm not sure that I can, but you coming forward with this brings you at least a step closer to earning back my confidence."

Peter's jaw slackened, his hands coming to rest at his sides.

"In other words," Tony said. "I thank you for telling me."

Peter swallowed thickly. "Does this mean," he asked hesitantly, "that I can keep my job?"

"Not so fast," Tony said, cleaning his lenses with the hem of his jacket. "You need to understand the position that I'm in here because of my alignment with the Avengers. The technology that we'll be working with will eventually, with any luck, be used for our missions. While I have no intention of putting you in any kind of danger, taking on a minor without informed consent from his guardians could land me in major legal trouble."

"My parents wouldn't sue you," Peter said, beginning to lift his head. "They're not that kind of people. They..."

"Even if I could be sure of that," Tony said, "if I were ever audited or investigated by the local authorities, I could be arrested for endangering you, especially if they are presented with a fraudulent document."

Peter mulled it over. "So that's all you need from me?" he asked. "A signature from my legal guardian?"

"Yes," Tony said. "A real one."

Tony reached inside his jacket and pulled out an envelope. "The waiver that I need is in there," he said. "My wife is handy with a keyboard. The language in there is airtight. There's nothing in there that should terrify your parents. It's just a mechanism we need to put in place to make sure that your affiliation with Stark Industries will not cause any issues for either of us."

Peter thought about it long and hard, then took the envelope and slipped it into his backpack. "Okay," he said finally. "I can try talking to them this week."

"Until then," Tony said, "I cannot welcome you back to the mansion." He felt an immediate sinking sensation as the words left his mouth.

Peter turned his head away, blinking back tears. "I understand."

"As soon as it's signed," Tony said reassuringly. "we'll be happy to have you back."

Peter exhaled shakily, letting his heavy eyes close. "Thank you for the second chance. Or... whatever number we're on now."

"Don't take it for granted," Tony said. "I will continue to respect your boundaries as long as you continue to respect my rules. Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Peter said, barely audible.

Noticing that the car was slowing down, Tony looked out the window. "Is this your school?"

Peter nodded, straightening up and grabbing his backpack.

"Be good," Tony said. "No dodgeball for you today. Ice that ankle if you can."

"Will do, Mr. Stark," Peter said, unlatching his seatbelt and opening the door. "I'll let you know about... the thing."

"I'll look forward to it," he said with a nod. "Have a good day."

"You too," Peter replied, stepping out into the parking lot. "Thanks for the ride, Happy." He tossed his backpack over his shoulder and headed toward the entrance, not bothering to look back or wave.

Tony watched him walk away, bothered by how obviously Peter was favouring his left foot.

As soon as Peter was out of sight, Tony leaned back in his seat, covering his face with his hands. "Happy," he groaned, "what the fuck did I just do?"

"With all due respect, Tony," Happy said, "are you really sure that you want to be involved with this kid?"

Tony let his hands drop. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't say that."

"I'm just saying," Happy said. "Maybe he's bad news. This is stressing you out. Maybe it's not our place to..."

"Enough, Happy," Tony snapped. "Just... shut up and let me think for a moment."

They drove back to the mansion in uncomfortable silence.

Upon arrival, Tony took a deep breath.

"I don't think he's safe," he said finally. "I can't ignore the feeling, but I also can't do anything more about it right now. The ball is in his court. All I can do is let him come to me."

Happy pulled up to the front door and put the car in park. "I respect your decision," he said, "and you know that I'll be here for you if I can help in any way, but Tony... unless he tells you something of significance, you have to let it go."

Tony sighed. "I know."

Happy flashed Tony a sympathetic smile in the rearview mirror. "In the meantime," he said grimly, "all you can do is wait."

**********************

Tony waited. In fact, he kept his distance for nearly a week before succumbing to the urge to reach out, and he was very pleasantly surprised when Peter responded.

Of course, Tony made it a point not to ask about anything personal. It began with a casual text: just a request for input on the experiment that he was working on. Regardless of whether or not Peter had been deliberately avoiding Tony, the shop talk proved to be too tempting for him to resist. Before long, they were pinging each other nonstop. Tony hinted that the next big project would have them delving into the world of nanotech, which had Peter all but frothing at the mouth.

After several solid days of healthy dialogue, Tony sent Peter the following: I'm afraid we will need to pause this conversation here and resume in the lab at your convenience. The information is too sensitive to communicate via text. (This was technically true, though Tony had more than enough confidence in the security of his electronic communication systems.)

Several hours went by before Peter sent his reply: okay, will try to get my parents to sign ASAP

Tony felt immediately unsettled.

He spent the remainder of the evening pacing, trying to look busy to anyone who crossed his path. He turned down dinner and steered clear of Pepper and Happy until it was finally time to retire for the night. Just as he was settling down into bed, his phone chimed on his nightstand. He dove for it immediately.

Mr. Stark, the message read, I finally built up the courage to ask my parents, but it didn't go well. At this time, I will need to respectfully request to terminate my apprenticeship and withdraw from any affiliation with Stark Industries. I will remain forever grateful for the opportunity you have given me. I apologize profusely for wasting your time, and I wish you nothing but the best in all of your future endeavours.

Best regards,

Peter Parker

Tony's mouth ran dry. Peter, he texted back, fumbling with both his words and his phone, we cn figure this out. lets takl tomorroww

Send.

...

We're sorry: this number is no longer in service.

...

Blocked?

Feeling instantly sick to his stomach, Tony threw off the comforter and tumbled out of bed, snatching his glasses off of the nightstand just as Pepper entered the room in her bathrobe.

"Tony!" she exclaimed. "What is it?"

But Tony was already brushing past her and tearing off down the hallway, summoning his armour with a flourish.

"Where the hell are you going?" she cried, hurrying after him. "It's the middle of the night!"

By the time he reached the nearest exit, he was fully geared up. He threw open the doors.

"I am going," he declared, "to find Peter Parker!"

With a leap and a bound, he launched himself off of the porch and into the night sky.

Chapter Text

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony called out as he propelled himself across the city, "what information can you find about Peter Parker's family?"

"No internet connection is available," F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded. "Search will resume when the signal quality improves."

"Fine," Tony sighed. Though he had told Peter that he would refrain from prying into his personal life, all bets were off. Something was wrong, and Tony simply had to know what they were dealing with.

He peered out over the sea of rooftops before him, half-hoping to see Happy's prized little insect man frolicking amongst them. Even though the guy was highly overrated in Tony's opinion, it couldn't hurt for the two of them to become acquainted. Hell, maybe Spider-Man would be willing to take on a little side job and keep an eye on whatever the hell was going on in the Parkers' apartment. It was highly unlikely that he took requests (or bribes), but it couldn't hurt to ask.

"Connected," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said finally. "I found eight-hundred and seventy-three thousand results for 'peter parker family.'"

"I could have just Googled that myself," Tony said irritably. "Can you narrow them down to people from New York?"

"Refining search... fifty-one thousand results."

"Christ," Tony muttered. "Help me out, F.R.I.D.A.Y. Can you parse the results and find any that may be connected to sixteen-year-old Peter Parker from Queens?"

"I found four results within those parameters."

"That's more like it," Tony said, opting to land on the nearest rooftop to examine the AI's findings.

The first result that F.R.I.D.A.Y. displayed on the helmet's screen was a Facebook profile of a woman named Elise Parker with "Peter" listed as her son, but none of the children in her public photos bore any resemblance to his Peter.

"Strike one."

Next up was a website for a small business owned by the Parker family (with children Samuel, Peter, and Grace), which had its humble beginnings in New York before the family uprooted to bring the franchise to Los Angeles.

"Nope, next."

Tony started to get hopeful when F.R.I.D.A.Y. showed him a recent article from a secondary school's website that listed Louise Parker as a member of the PTA. However, that school was on the opposite end of the city.

"Strike three, F.R.I.D.A.Y. By process of elimination..."

The fourth result was an obituary.

Tony's breath hitched in his throat when he saw the year.

"No..."

It is with shock and sadness that we announce the sudden passing of Richard Laurence Parker and Mary Teresa Parker (née Fitzpatrick). Loving parents of Peter. Dear brother and sister-in-law of Ben Parker...

"No, no, no. SHIT. It can't... F.R.I.D.A.Y., what information is out there about Richard and Mary Parker? Any news articles or anything from 2010?"

"Six results found," F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied, displaying the first article from the Twelfth Street Examiner.

There it was... the story of a young couple involved in a devastating collision with a drunk driver on a Friday night. The person responsible for the accident was transported to the hospital with non-life-threatening injuries, while 34-year-old Richard and 29-year-old Mary were pronounced dead at the scene. Their son, Peter, was just six years old.

Tony broke out into a cold sweat. He took off again immediately in the direction of Peter's apartment. If this was the same Peter... whom was he living with in that apartment? Who was looking out for him? What if he was all alone, and that was why he didn't want Tony there?

When he spotted the rusty brick building, he flew around to the North side and was taken aback to see someone sitting on the railing of the fire escape on one of the upper floors. He quickly counted the number of windows down from the roof and concluded that it was, in fact, the eleventh floor, which meant that the solitary figure was almost certainly Peter.

He approached cautiously so as to avoid startling the boy, whose legs dangled precariously over the sidewalk below, but his chosen mode of transportation provided him with limited stealth.

Peter’s head tilted upward, his eyes flickering with recognition, but his expression immediately darkened. He swung his legs back over the railing and hopped onto the platform. By the time Tony was close enough to get a good look, Peter had his back pressed against the wall, his eyes wide but bright with defiance.

"Not the safest place to hang out," Tony said casually, hovering on the other side of the railing at Peter's eye level.

"What are you doing here?" Peter snapped, his tone catching Tony off-guard. He wore a tattered blue sweater and grey beanie that was pulled low, casting a shadow over his eyes.

"Relax, Peter. I just want to talk," Tony said calmly.

"You can't be here, he'll..." Peter looked nervously over his shoulder into the window of the apartment. On an impulse, he hopped down onto the landing below, then the next, continuing until he had descended to his favourite (vacant) floor.

Tony followed him downward. "Slow down!" he called out. "This is a high-rise, not a jungle gym."

"Stay away from me," Peter hissed, backing up into the corner of the landing as Tony's feet hit the platform.

"Calm down," Tony said, stepping out of the suit. "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"What do you want from me?" Peter asked desperately, gripping the railings on either side of him. "I can't work for you anymore. I have nothing to say to you."

"I was afraid that something had happened to you," Tony said. "Your resignation today came out of nowhere. Was I supposed to just take it at face value?"

"Yes," Peter said irritably, "but I guess you ignored it, just like everything else I've ever in asked of you."

Tony bristled. "That's not fair.”

"I've done everything you asked," Peter said, his eyes locked on Tony’s. "You said you would stay out of my business."

"I know," Tony replied, "and I want to be sorry about that, but all of those boundaries went out the window as soon as I realized that you were in danger."

"I am not in danger,” Peter shot back. “I know you think that my parents are abusive or something, but they're not. I know you don't believe me, but..."

"I believe you," Tony said.

Peter stopped short, his shoulders dropping as his eyes locked onto Tony's worried gaze. "Then why are you here?"

Tony's eyes flickered across Peter's face. "I know about your parents, Peter."

Peter remained silent, his glare slowly hardening.

Tony took a step forward. "Richard and Mary Parker?" he said quietly. "From Queens?"

Peter visibly stiffened. He stared Tony down for the better part of a minute until his legs buckled beneath him. He sank slowly to the floor, his arms going limp at his sides.

Tony lowered himself to one knee. "Am I close?" he asked.

Peter's chin dropped down to his chest. "They're dead," he said in a hollow voice, "but you knew that already."

"I'm sorry, Peter," Tony said, his eyes bright with anguish. "You were so young..."

"Exactly," Peter said bitterly, pulling his knees up to his chest. "It was a long time ago. I don't think about it anymore."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Tony asked. "Why did you make up all of these stories about them? You could have just been honest. Who lives in that apartment with you?"

"You got the confirmation you came for," Peter mumbled, his eyes stinging. "You can go."

"Do you live there alone?" Tony pressed. "Is that why you wouldn't tell me?"

"No," Peter said hurriedly. "I have a guardian. I've never lived alone."

"Who did you grow up with? Who raised you?" Tony asked, looking at Peter searchingly.

Peter shook his head. "It's a long story."

Tony took a seat beside him. "I have time."

Peter angled his body away. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" he groaned.

"Why can't you let me help you?" Tony asked.

"I don't NEED YOU!" Peter shot back, smashing his fist against the metal railing beside him.

Tony winced. He could have sworn that he heard the bone crack.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching for Peter's arm. "Take it easy..."

"I've taken care of myself for as long as I can remember!" Peter cried, pulling his arms in and folding them across his chest. "I don't need anybody else!"

They sat there for what felt like an eternity, with only the sound of Peter's laboured breathing penetrating the heavy silence.

"You're right," Tony said finally, looking out at the dimly lit horizon. "You don't need me. You also don't work for me anymore, so you don't owe me any kind of explanation." He turned back toward Peter. "Can you talk to me anyway? Man to man?"

Peter said nothing, keeping his gaze averted. Nonetheless, Tony could make out the deep redness in his eyes and the overwhelming exhaustion eclipsing his face.

"What do you already know?" he asked finally.

"All I know is that your parents were killed in a car accident ten years ago." Tony studied Peter carefully. "Who took care of you after that?"

Peter let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. "My dad's brother, Uncle Ben... he was my godfather. I went to live with him right after their death. He didn't have any kids, and he had never planned on it, but..." Peter shrugged. "He did his best. His girlfriend, May, moved in with us, too. They got engaged about a year later. I remember the night he proposed to her in the middle of the living room. Everyone was crying... they were so happy." Peter smiled fondly at the memory. "I loved living with them. They were so good to me, but then..." He swallowed.

"What happened?" Tony asked.

"Ben just... died," Peter said, his eyes glistening. "Out of nowhere. He was up on a ladder putting up shelves in my bedroom, and then he collapsed. They ruled it a heart attack, but..." Peter wiped his eyes. "I don't know. He just fell right in front of me... I ran over to him, he wasn't breathing..."

"Jesus, kid," Tony breathed. "I'm sorry..."

"May was a wreck," Peter went on. "We both were. But we had each other. May wanted to adopt me, but she didn't have any legal custody rights. She wasn't even a citizen: she was Canadian. They were going to take care of all of that paperwork and stuff after they got married, but..." Peter sniffed. "They never got the chance."

Tony reached out to put a hand on Peter's shoulder, but Peter visibly tensed up and jerked away. Tony withdrew respectfully. It was just then that he noticed a dark spot peeking out from beneath the hem of the beanie, just above Peter's eyebrow. Was he bleeding?

"So," Peter continued, "because I had nowhere else to go, they let me stay with her while she got Uncle Ben's affairs in order, but then they sent her back to Canada, and I became a ward of the state. She still wrote to me. Her plan was to save enough money to move back to the U.S. on her own and then petition the courts to get me back, but..." he shrugged. "Then her mom got cancer, and things got complicated. She had to stay."

"So... where did you go?" Tony asked.

Peter inhaled. "I got bounced around group homes for a while until I finally landed with a foster family. I was nine."

"Is that the same family you're with now?"

Peter paused, then continued as if he hadn't heard the question. "The mom was so excited..." he said. "She couldn't have children of her own, so fostering was her dream. I even had foster siblings, Theo and Sophie. They were a lot younger than me. The lady's husband was a decent guy. He was pretty hands-off with us... he was a bit of a workaholic, but that's how he supported us. He also had a son from a previous marriage, but his ex-wife had custody and moved out of state. The kid visited us once or twice."

"You're speaking in past tense," Tony remarked. "I take it you don't live with them anymore?"

Peter hesitated. "Just the dad," he said. "He's my legal guardian."

Tony stiffened. "What happened to everyone else?"

Peter fell silent for a long time. Tony tried his best to avoid letting his mind run wild as he patiently waited for Peter to speak.

"One day," Peter began, keeping his voice low, "around three years ago, Theo got sick. He had a fever and couldn't stop crying. The dad wasn't back from work yet, so I offered to go get some Tylenol for him. But... the mom didn't want me walking around on my own after dark, so she told me to stay home and watch them. She said she'd be back in half an hour. She..." His breath caught in his throat.

Tony's blood ran cold.

"She never came back," Peter choked. "She... she got shot. In the middle of the sidewalk."

Tony was frozen in utter disbelief. How had Peter already been through so much in his sixteen years?"

"It was just some random mugging. She got caught up in it, and..." Peter's eyes welled with fresh tears. "That was it. She was gone. The police came to the door before her husband got home. It was just me and the kids, and..." He wiped his eyes. "He came home... he saw the cops and thought we had gotten into trouble, but then they told him what happened, and..."

Peter shook his head, frantically wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater.

"He was never the same after that... she was his whole world. She would still be alive if she would have just waited for him to get home, or if she would have just asked me to go instead of staying home with the kids, or if she would have just never taken in any kids in the first place..."

"...so he blames you." Tony said quietly.

Peter stared down at his shoes. "Yeah," he said. "He blames all of us."

"It's not your fault, Peter," Tony insisted. "There's no way you could have..."

"Stop," Peter whispered, biting his lip. "I know what happened. I don't want to talk about it."

Tony's pulse was racing at this point. Peter's history ran so much deeper than he had anticipated. "Do the kids still live with you?" he asked.

Peter shook his head. "They went to go live with their biological grandparents. The adoption had already been in the works. Me, though... I didn't have any other family, and there was a giant waiting list for a new home, so... they just left me there."

"Does he hurt you?" Tony asked.

"No," Peter said, emphatically, shaking his head. "No. He just doesn't want anything to do with me, so I just stay away from him. It's fine."

"If it's fine," Tony asked, "then why were you afraid to let me meet him?"

"I didn't tell him about the apprenticeship," Peter said. "I don't tell him anything. We just coexist. He drinks a lot, I do a lot of homework. We stay out of each other's way."

"That's not normal, kid," Tony said, shaking his head. "You're too afraid to even talk to him."

"Because I killed his wife," Peter snapped, "and he still gives me a place to live. I don't have the right to ask him for anything."

"You didn't kill anyone," Tony said firmly. "You cannot allow yourself to believe that."

"If I would have just gone to get the medicine myself," Peter insisted, "she would have been safe at home with the kids. None of this would be happening. Theo was just clinging to me and sobbing... then I started crying. I kept saying saying, 'he's burning up... he needs medicine... please, he won't stop...' Why didn't I just go?" He buried his face in his hands.

"Kid," Tony said, "you have to..."

"STOP CALLING ME 'KID!'" Peter bellowed, the tears now spilling uncontrollably.

Tony's jaw snapped shut. He fell silent once again, waiting for Peter's breathing to even out.

Peter's lip began to tremble. "It doesn't matter," he whispered. "It's done, and now I have to live with it."

"What happened today?" Tony asked. "What happened that made you resign and block my number?"

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. "This," he said through gritted teeth, "is where I respectfully ask you to mind your own business."

Tony reached toward Peter's face to lift up the edge of the hat, but Peter slapped his hand away and sprang up from the ground. "Do not touch me," he hissed.

"I see blood," Tony said. "If you want to convince me that you are safe in that apartment, you're going to have to tell me what happened."

"You want to know what happened?" Peter said quietly, glowering back at Tony. "YOU happened. You just wouldn't drop, it would you? You threatened to take my job away from me if I didn't get the stupid signature, which we both know you never actually cared about."

"What did he do, Peter?" Tony persisted. "Please... just tell me what happened."

"What happened is that I asked him. I've avoided talking to him for... God, I don't even know how long... but I tried. I waited until he had polished off his glass of scotch and then went up to him with the form... I said that I just needed a signature for a school field trip." Peter turned away from Tony and gripped the railing, leaning over the side as if he were going to be sick. "He just lost it. He whipped his empty glass..." Peter's voice shook. "Said I had a lot of nerve... how nice for me that I could just get away for a field trip to a stupid art museum..."

"That's it," Tony said, straightening up. "You can't stay in that place. We need to get you out of there. Tonight."

"I don't HAVE anywhere else to go!" Peter cried. "Don't you get it? Do you have any idea how many foster kids there are in this city? Even if I get placed with a family... that's one less home available for a kid who really needs it. I can take care of myself, but kids like Theo and Sophie? They need family. I can't take that away from them. That's what would happen if anyone found out, which is EXACTLY what almost happened today because of you."

Tony blinked. "I'm... I'm sorry, I don't follow..."

"Someone called the police," Peter said icily. "The neighbours probably heard the shouting and the glass breaking. I heard the knock at the door and panicked. I couldn't let them think that he was drunk or dangerous, so..." Peter took a deep breath. "By then, he was already passed out on the couch, so I met the officers at the door. I told him that my dad had been sleepwalking and getting a glass of water from the kitchen when I startled him awake. I said that it wasn't the first time I'd found him sleepwalking, so I was able to calm him down and get him back to sleep, no problem. They seemed satisfied with that and agreed not to come in and wake him up."

"The fucking cops in this city," Tony hissed. "I swear to God..."

"The cops never would have been here if you would have just listened to me," Peter snapped, glaring over his shoulder. "For three years, I've been laying low. I wouldn't have had to talk to him if you hadn't have guilt-tripped me with the waiver story. I could have just kept working, kept my distance from him... everything would have been fine. I could have saved up to support myself, and then in two years... I could have moved away for school and put it all behind me."

"You're only sixteen, Peter," Tony said wistfully. "You shouldn't have to take care of yourself. You don't deserve any of this."

Peter turned back around to face Tony. "You've only known me for a few weeks," he seethed. "You have no reason to give a damn about me, and I don't expect you to. I just need you to care enough about my future to stay out of this." He took a deep breath. "I can find another job. I can apply for scholarships. I can make it work until I graduate. But if they take me away... I'll get thrown in some group home, probably in another district... I'll have nothing and nobody. Right now, I like my school. I love my friends. I'm getting straight As. I don't want to start over."

"Come work for me again," Tony said encouragingly. "Signature or no signature... Pepper's a logistical genius. We can make it work."

Peter's eyes flashed. "So you DID lie to me," he said. "It had nothing to do with liability... you just didn't trust me, so you needed to sniff around."

"It's not that I didn't trust you," Tony said. "You are right about one thing: I didn't care nearly as much about the legal shit as I cared about making sure that you were okay. My gut was telling me that something wasn't right, and I'm glad I listened to it. I know you've somehow convinced yourself that you deserve all of this this, but you don't. This... this man who was entrusted with your wellbeing is hurting and neglecting you. He needs to go to jail, and you need to move somewhere safe." He took a step forward. "I know you're scared, but I promise you that..."

"You can't promise me anything," Peter cut in. "You have no control over what the police or the courts will do to me or to him."

"I won't let anything bad happen to you," Tony insisted. "And why do you care about what happens to him? He's..."

"He's a dad," Peter said urgently, his voice cracking. "He's not my father, but he's somebody's father. He didn't ask for any of this, either. He wasn't alway a drinker, and he never hurt anyone before his wife died. If he gets arrested, then that's it. That kid will grow up without a dad." He jammed his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "I've already done enough damage... I can't let that happen."

"Peter," Tony asked incredulously, "what makes you think that this lowlife should even have access to his biological son? If he..."

"He would never hurt his own kid," Peter said sullenly. "The only time that I've seen him smile since his wife died was when his ex dropped off his son for a visit. He lit right up... I went to my room and stayed there the whole time, but I was listening... you know, just in case. Nothing bad happened. There was just... joy. Real happiness. Me? I'm a reminder of the worst thing that has ever happened to him, but not his kid." He got a faraway look in his eyes. "Maybe he'll get better one day. Then he can have another chance, and his son won't have to suffer because of me."

He looked back up at Tony. "I know you think that you're helping," he said, "but all I need is for you to leave me alone. Once and for all."

Tony stared back at Peter in terrified wonder. He wanted nothing more than to scoop him up and take him as far away from that wretched apartment as possible, but he had already done enough damage by acting on impulse and had completely eroded Peter's trust in the process. If he was going to have any chance of getting Peter out of this hell, he would have to come up with a real plan.

He lowered his head, walked back toward his suit, then turned back around to face Peter.

"Okay," he said finally. "I will leave you alone, but Peter... I need you to believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry that I put you in this situation, and I want to make it up to you if you'll let me. My home is still open to you and always will be. If you feel unsafe for any reason, all you have to do is..."

"I know, I know," Peter said, waving his hand dismissively. "I remember the speech. Text you, pretend I'm telling you something about the lab, but it's a code or whatever. I'm going back inside before someone sees us. You won't be hearing from me. Goodbye, Mr. Stark."

Peter ran back up the steps to his floor, leaping over multiple stairs at a time, and climbed back inside the apartment.

Once Tony heard the window slam shut, he let go of a breath that didn't realize he had been holding. Never before had he felt so powerless. He had to do something (and soon), but if he didn't plan his next move very carefully, he could make things infinitely worse.

With that thought heavy on his mind and conscience, he suited up, launched himself off the the fire escape, and set a course for home.

Chapter Text

“Do we really need to do this?” Tony sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face.

Steve smiled. “It’s just one press conference. You normally love public appearances!”

“Yeah, but that’s only when I have something of value to say,” he said.

“The public hasn’t heard anything from Stark Industries in a while,” Steve replied. “You know what happens if you wait too long: the rumour mill starts going wild. They’ll think you’re working on weapons of mass destruction.”

“That would be a fine waste of time and resources,” Tony muttered.

“What’s the big deal?” Steve asked. “We just demo some of the stuff you’ve made for me, the people will clap, you’ll take a few questions… it’ll be fun.”

Tony reached for his coffee. “I’m just not in the mood.”

Steve cocked his head. “Something on your mind?”

“Usually,” Tony said airily.

“Want to talk about it?” Steve leaned back in his chair.

Tony shook his head.

“Is it about your little intern?” Steve asked. “Pepper said that there was something complicated going on there.”

“Apprentice,” Tony said. He was a bit miffed that Pepper had said something to Steve.

He had deliberately avoided engaging with her about it ever since the night that he visited Peter at home. She was still awake by the time he returned and slumped back into the bedroom.

“Well?” she’d asked. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

He undressed and climbed into bed. “The kid’s alive,” he said.

“Is he okay?” she asked.

“About as okay as he can be.”

“What exactly were you planning on doing when you got there?” she asked.

“Look,” Tony said. “I just had a feeling, and… he blocked me from texting him, and…”

“Whoa, hang on,” she cut him off. “He blocked you, and you went looking for him? Are you trying to get a restraining order filed against you?”

“Oh, give me a break,” Tony groaned, leaning back against the headboard.”

“No, Tony, I’m serious,” she said. “If you go looking for him after he’s blocked you, that could be seen as harassment. What if his parents took action? You wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. You’d be barred from having any contact with Peter again. You would have no ability to help him, and you would carry that on your record.”

Tony mulled it over. She had a point. Knowing what he knew, he was going to have to keep his nose clean if he wanted any chance of being able to help Peter.

“You’re right,” he said finally.

She nodded. “The bottom line is that you don’t know nearly enough about Peter to help him, and you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. He knows how to reach you if he needs to. For now, you need to just leave it at that and go about your day. Deal?”

He knew a fair bit about Peter at this point - more than he had ever intended to learn - but he wasn’t about to let Pepper know that.

“Pepper knows best,” he said, rolling over onto his side. “Good night.”

Tony could only wonder what she had divulged to Steve.

“He’s a teenager,” Tony said simply. “Things are always unreasonably complicated with them.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “That’s a useless statement. What’s going on with him?”

“Nothing I’m at liberty to say,” Tony said. “Let’s get our shit together and get this thing out of the way as fast as possible.”

To his credit, Steve readily dropped the subject despite the fact that he clearly wanted to know more. The two of them diverted their attention back to their work and managed to iron out the details of Tony’s speech and Cap’s demonstration rather quickly.

“Done and done,“ Tony said triumphantly, powering down all of the screens. “You staying the night?”

“If that’s okay,” Cap responded. “Just makes things easier.”

“All right,” Tony said. “I’m going to bed. Sleep in if you want, but be ready to leave by one o’clock.”

“The conference is at two, isn’t it?” Cap asked. “Shouldn’t we leave earlier?”

“I don’t want to spend more time there than I have to,” Tony said wearily.

Cap shrugged. “As you wish,” he said. “Sweet dreams, Tony.”

On his way to the bedroom, he passed by the living room and found Happy watching the evening news.

"Oh hey," Happy said, looking up from his exceedingly relaxed position in his recliner. "They just hyped up the press conference on the news."

"Great," Tony sighed. "They'll have to learn to handle the disappointment."

Happy chuckled. "Come on," he said with a smirk. "The people love hearing about what Stark is up to. They'll just be happy to see you."

"The people," Tony muttered. "Who are the people exactly?" His attention had drifted toward the T.V., which was airing footage of Spider-Man ensnaring a carjacker with his webbing and pinning him to the ground.

"Spider-Man strikes again," Happy said gleefully. "That guy's not afraid of anything."

Tony's eyes were fixed on the screen.

"Hey, Tony?" Happy called.

"Hmmm? Yeah," Tony said absentmindedly, watching the mysterious crusader tie the culprit to the nearest lamppost and scurry up the side of the bodega. "Got a lot of nerve."

"I wonder where he lives," Happy mused. "Do you think he built himself a giant web somewhere? Or maybe he dug a hole like a tarantula!"

Tony didn't seem to hear the question. "He's so small..." he said in wonder. Until that point, he had only seen footage of Spider-Man in the air. He had never seen him standing next to another person. The carjacker that he apprehended had absolutely towered over him.

"Well, he's probably young," Happy said. "Not a child, but like... I don't know. Maybe he evolved to have a frame like that so that he could move more easily. He wouldn't be able to swing around on those things if he were built like a bodybuilder."

"I know, but..." Tony paused, then shook his head. "Never mind. I'm going to bed."

"See you tomorrow," Happy said, settling back into the chair. "We'll be ready."

As Tony retreated to his sleeping quarters, he wondered what Peter was up to that night. He hadn't heard anything from him in almost a week, which was sending his mind to dark places. Pepper had repeatedly assured him that Peter was a smart kid and would reach out if he needed to. Happy reminded him that speculating was not in any way helpful and that he wasn't doing himself any favours by fixating on something over which he had no control. Still, Tony couldn't quell the unsettling thoughts, nor could he stop asking himself what he could be doing differently. His interference had already been detrimental to the cause, but prolonged inaction could prove to be infinitely more harmful. It was hard to choose between the two fires when he couldn't come up with a reasonable plan.

With that - and very little else - on his mind, he headed off to bed.

************************

As promised, Cap was ready to leave by one o'clock. When Happy and Tony stepped outside to head to the car, they found Steve waiting for them in uniform, leaning against the trunk.

"Don't scuff up the paint," Happy said worriedly, hurrying down the cement stairs.

"I just want to put the shield in the trunk," he said innocently. He looked up at Tony, who was adjusting the knot on his tie. "Where's your armour?"

Tony nodded toward the briefcase at his side. "The nanotech suit is in there," he said. "I figure I can throw on the vest toward the end of the speech and do the big reveal. Couple of 'oohs' and 'ahhs,' then break it down before they can get too many pictures."

"My God, Stark," Steve said, watching Tony descend the stairs. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

Tony hastily pulled his glasses from his pocket and put them on to conceal the dark circles under his eyes. "Let's get this over with."

Once he and Steve were situated in the backseat, they set course for the event hall. As they ventured into the heart of the city, they were relieved to see that they midday traffic was relatively calm.

"Oh wow, look!" Happy exclaimed, pointing ahead toward an upcoming traffic light.

Tony and Steve peered between the front seats and through the windshield. One of the lights was dangling precariously above the street, having become partially detached from the metal arm to which it was fastened. A familiar figure clad in red and blue was crawling along said arm.

"How does that happen?" Steven said. "Did they forget to tighten a bolt or something?"

Spider-Man got to work, firing a web at the fallen light and tugging it back into place, then using more webbing to secure it safely.

“So, what… does he work for the city now?” Tony asked. “Contracted maintenance?”

“Nah, he doesn’t work for anybody,” Happy said jauntily. “He just roams around helping people who need it.”

Despite himself, Tony found himself watching the masked Samaritan with fascination. “No, really,” Tony asked, “what’s his motive?”

“Does he need one?” Steve asked. “This city is full of terrible people. Can’t we be grateful for the good ones?”

Spider-Man took one last look at his handiwork, nodded in satisfaction, then leapt off of the light post and onto the nearest roof.

“That’s quite a stride he has,” Tony remarked "for such a wiry fella."

Cap was smiling. “Maybe he’d be open to a job interview.”

“What do you… oh,” Tony rolled his eyes. “One insect Avenger is enough. Shut up, I know spiders aren’t insects,” he added hastily.

“See?” Happy said. “I’m not the only one who thinks that…”

“Save it, Hogan,” Tony said, leaning back in his seat.

“Why are you so tense?” Cap asked.

Tony shrugged. “Like I said, I’m just not in the mood for this.”

“We’re almost there,” Happy said. “Just get up to the podium and do your thing. If you're good, we'll get you some ice cream after.”

"If you're craving ice cream, just say so!" Steve chuckled.

The traffic started to pick up as they got closer to the hall. When they rounded the corner, they marvelled at the size of the crowd waiting in front of the venue.

"Is this a press conference or a Taylor Swift concert?" Happy frowned.

"Who's Taylor Swift?" Steve asked.

"White House press secretary," Tony said without missing a beat. He craned his neck to look at the crowd. "Do we have security for this thing?"

Happy shot Tony a look in the rearview mirror. "What do you think?" he retorted. "Look."

Sure enough, there were several guards directing the crowd and four police officers waiting at the edge of the street for the men of the hour to arrive.

Happy pulled up in front of the police officers, who were motioning for him to park there. "Stay there, guys," he to his passengers, putting the car into park. "I'll come around." He stepped out of the car, popped the trunk for Cap, then walked around to meet them at the sidewalk.

Steve stepped out of the car first to retrieve his shield with Tony following suit. "I'm feeling a bit overdressed," Steve said with a smirk, nodding toward Tony's charcoal-coloured suit.

"You look lost, as usual," Tony said dimly, handing Happy his briefcase so that he could adjust his suit jacket. He tuned out the sound of the cheering crowd as he peered ahead. The stage and seating had been arranged on the lawn, with the seats already filled by anxious reporters. Some metal gates had been put up to clear the path from the street to the yard, and an overwhelming number of fans and fanatics had gathered behind them.

"Captain!" a little boy called out from behind the fence, holding up a paper plate that had been scribbled on with red and blue crayon. "Will you sign my shield?"

The Captain was beaming. "We have time, right?" he asked.

"Go," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "I'll follow in a second."

He turned back to Happy as Cap went off to greet his adoring fans.

"I should put the vest on," he said.

Happy patted the side of the briefcase. "I've got it," Happy said. "You can put it on before you get on the stage."

"Fine," Tony said. As he headed toward the press area with Happy at his side, he kept his head low, not feeling particularly interested in addressing the cheers and jeers from the extraneous crowd:

"Iron Man, where's your armour?"

"Oh my god, that's the bodyguard from the picture!"

"WHERE IS CAPTAIN AMER... oh, there he is... OVER HERE! CAPTAIN, PLEASE!"

"Mr. Stark, are you hiring??"

"Where's the Hulk? We want the HULK!"

"Hey, Einstein, get a real job!"

"Be a man and tell us what you're hiding in that lab!"

"Hello, Iron Man."

The hairs on the back of Tony's neck prickled. He slowly turned to look over his shoulder.

"Oh my God, he's got a gun!"

"TONY, GET DOW-"

Bang.

-----------

The ambient noise dissolved into a distant murmur as Tony turned to face his uninvited guest. He watched the scene unfold as if in slow motion:

a tall man, appearing no older than thirty, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt

the pistol poised in his hand at chest level

the slight recoil as he fired

a flash of blue and red

the gun clattering against the sidewalk

the scarlet splatter across the pavement

Tony stared, slack-jawed and unblinking, at the now disarmed assailant pinned to the ground by the Spandex-sporting hero. Spider-Man swiftly adhered the gunman's wrists and ankles, along with the pistol, to the cement with webbing. He shot one glance in Tony's direction, then made a hasty exit, firing a web at the high-rise across the street and swinging out of sight.

The piercing screams were translated into a dull ringing in Tony's ears.

"Mr. Stark, this way... now... Mr. Hogan..."

Tony ignored the officer slipping an arm around him and attempting to steer him toward the building. The remaining three officers were descending upon his would-be assassin as the security guards attempted to redirect the panicking crowd.

"He's been shot," Tony said, his voice barely audible.

"Tony, come on," Happy urged, tugging on Tony's arm. "We need to get inside."

He numbly allowed himself to be led toward the hall, staring over his shoulder at the bloody canvas of a sidewalk.

Once inside, the officer led Happy and Tony down a hall away from the front entrance. Tony finally turned to face forward and saw a different officer ushering Steve into a room up ahead. He, Happy, and their escort followed them inside.

Cap looked up anxiously as the three of them entered. "Is everyone okay?"

"As far as we can tell, no one in the crowd was hurt," the first officer said. "We're going to figure out who the attacker was and figure out if he has any accomplices in the area. He's being taken care of. For now, we need to focus on keeping you three safe." He motioned for Cap to take a seat on the couch.

"We've called in reinforcements to secure the area," Tony's officer said. She turned to face him. "Mr. Stark, are you hurt?"

"Spider-Man is hurt," Tony said, staring vacantly over her shoulder and out the window behind her.

"Sir," she repeated, scanning his face, "are you injured?"

"No," Tony said. "But... you've gotta go find him... that guy shot him..."

"We'll be looking into this thoroughly," she said with an unmerited level of reassurance. "My partner and I need to guard the entrance. Mr. Stark, Mr. Hogan, please wait here with Mr. Rogers. Do not leave this room. You'll be safest here, and we'll need to get statements from all three of you before you leave today."

"We'll be right here, ma'am," Happy said straightening up and nodding curtly.

With their hands on their holsters, the officers ducked out of the room. Happy stumbled over to a nearby coral armchair and sank down into it, letting the briefcase drop at its side. Beads of sweat were pouring down his face.

"Tony," he said wearily. "What the hell just happened?"

Tony gestured catatonically in the direction of the door. "Did she... did she even hear me?" Tony said. "That spider guy got shot. Why aren't they doing anything?"

"He'll be okay," Cap said. "Tony... you're white as a sheet. Sit down before you pass out."

"Happy," Tony said urgently. "We have to do something!"

"Steve's right," Happy panted, feeling for his own pulse at the side of his neck. "Don't worry about him. He's got super powers."

"He was shot," Tony said, raising his voice in bewildered frustration. "There was blood everywhere! Are you listening to me? He was shot, with a bullet that was apparently aiming for me. We have to do something!"

"Tony," Steve said, standing up and hurrying to Tony's side. "You've just had a near-death experience. You're in shock. Sit down and take a breath before you give Happy a heart attack."

Happy tilted his head back wearily, letting his eyes close. "I want a suit of armour for my birthday," he murmured.

"Happy," Tony said urgently, hurrying to his side and kneeling beside the chair. "We need to go look for him. He could be bleeding out somewhere."

"No, no, he's fine," Happy insisted. "I'm telling you, he's got super strength, and he can heal himself! Look, I'll show you..." he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "This video is pretty recent..."

Redirecting Happy's attention seemed to have had an immediate calming effect, so Tony willingly allowed him to queue up the video in question. It featured a car driving erratically down a dimly lit street and was apparently being recorded by someone standing on a balcony.

"This dude is trashed," the cameraman muttered. "Bro, can you call 911? There's some drunk-ass motherfucker driving toward the... what the fuck? Oh God, GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

The driver showed no signs of stopping at the red light; picking up speed, the car swerved violently to the left in the direction of a young woman crossing at the intersection.

"Watch this," Happy said, pointing to the side of the screen. "Just like Tarzan..."

Sure enough, Spider-Man swooped in from the right, sweeping the woman off of her feet and depositing her safely on the sidewalk. The car barrelled through the intersection and out of sight.

"Hang on..." Happy muttered, scrolling through the related videos. "There was one from a lower angle... oh, there it is."

The video that Happy selected appeared to pick up where the other left off. Someone on the street was filming the car coming directly toward them.

"Oh my god," a woman's voice said. "Spider-Man is trying to stop that car... oh my god... get inside!"

Though the lighting was poor, Spider-Man could be easily spotted in the background, advancing with one swing at a time in an attempt to get ahead of the car.

Tony watched intently as Happy's words rang in his head. Super strength... healing powers...

"Now, this part is just crazy," Happy said, tilting the screen toward Tony. "Watch how he stops the car before it hits the wall!"

By this point, the car was careening down the wrong lane in the direction of an oncoming van. The driver jerked the wheel violently to the right, sending the vehicle on an entirely different collision course. Seeing the car headed for the building to his right, Spider-Man swung himself over to the opposite side of the street, pushed off of the building to propel himself into an astonishing backflip, then hurtled down toward the sidewalk. He came preposterously close to landing on the pavement before his foot became lodged between the car bumper and the brick wall. He threw his hands on the hood to cushion the impact as the onlookers gasped in response to the sickening crunch.

"See that?" Happy said. "Foot's obviously broken, right? But then he pushes the car back, drags the driver out, and disappears. Two days later, he was back out again, no sign of injury. The dude's amazing."

"Go back," Tony said quietly.

Happy looked back at Tony, perplexed, then grinned. "Gotta see that save again?" He pulled back the slider, rewinding to the moment just before the impact. Tony's eyes narrowed as he once again watched the car slam into the wall, crushing Spider-Man's leg at the ankle.

His left ankle.

"Wait..." Tony said, his eyes flashing. "Wait a goddamned minute... Happy, what's the date on that video?"

Happy tapped the screen. "It was uploaded Wednesday of last week," he said. "Why?"

"FUCK," Tony cried. "DAMMIT. Happy... FUCK!"

"What the hell, Tony?" Happy exclaimed. "What is it?"

"Happy," Tony said frantically, snatching the briefcase from beside the chair and tearing it open. "Send for Bruce Banner. Have F.R.I.D.A.Y. call him... wherever he is, go get him and have him meet us in the medical wing."

"Tony, what are you talking about?" Cap asked anxiously, rushing to his side. "We're supposed to wait for the police to..."

"Screw the police," Tony huffed, shrugging on the vest and tapping the front to activate the armour. "I'm going to find Spider-Man."

"Tony, what..." Happy began, but Tony was already dashing out of the room, now fully suited, in search of the nearest exit.

Knowing better than to blow past the cops, he headed toward the back of the building and managed to stumble upon a small courtyard. He burst through the door and immediately blasted off, soaring toward the sky until he reached a sufficiently high vantage point. Trying not to panic, he scanned the rooftops before him. It didn't take long for him to spot a solitary red and blue figure crouched down on the flat roof of an apartment building about two hundred yards away.

He propelled himself over as quickly as the suit would allow and landed opposite his spidery saviour, who was kneeling in a pool of blood with a hand clasped over his upper arm, his shoulders heaving with every laboured breath. His head lifted slightly when Tony landed. Though the mask concealed his face, he was obviously alarmed. He raised the hand of his wounded arm in protest.

"It's okay," Tony said, approaching tentatively. "I'm here to help."

The man - or rather, boy - was visibly shaking. Keeping his body low and fixing his gaze on Tony, he began inching closer to the edge of the building, still gasping for breath.

"If you come with me, I can get you a doctor," Tony said, fighting to keep his voice calm.

Spider-Man shook his head vigorously, dropping his hands to the ground and crawling toward the roof's edge.

"No, don't jump off," Tony urged, taking a step closer. "You're losing too much blood. I can take you somewhere safe. You won't even have to take off your mask. I swear it."

Trembling on three out of four limbs, Spider-Man shakily extended his good arm, poised to fire a web to the adjacent building.

"Peter," Tony blurted, his voice breaking.

The boy froze. After a few shaky breaths, he turned around slowly to face Tony

"Let me help you," Tony said desperately. "Please..."

Spider-Man and Iron Man locked gazes beneath their masks, neither remembering to breathe or blink, until Spider-Man feebly lowered himself to the ground. He cradled his head in his hands.

Tony thought he heard a whisper behind the mask. He took a step forward. "What did you say?"

The boy in the suit gulped. "I... I-I need..." he whimpered, "a white coat."

In an instant, Tony was collapsing the armour, tossing the vest to the side as he tumbled to his knees beside the boy. He grabbed his shoulder with one hand and tore his mask off with the other, revealing a mop of fair hair, a black eye, and bloodied lip.

...all, of course, belonging to Peter Parker.

"Mr. Stark," he whispered, his eyes brimming.

"Peter," Tony cried, wrapping the broken boy up in his arms. "Oh my God, Peter... you saved my life. You... oh god, I'm so sorry... he shot you! Peter..."

Peter grabbed fistfuls of Tony's jacket and sobbed against his shoulder.

"I've got you," Tony murmured. "I've got you, son. You're safe now. I promise you." He tried to pull back to assess Peter's injuries, but the poor boy would not let go.

"I know, I know," Tony said, rubbing Peter's back as he began to cry harder. "You're okay... we're going to get you out of here, okay? I just need you to let me take a look."

Peter pulled back, wiping his eyes.

"H-how did you kn-n..."

"Oh my God," Tony groaned, cutting Peter off when he saw the amount of blood gushing from the wound. He fumbled frantically for his necktie.

"I-it's not as bad as it looks," Peter sniffed. "I can heal, but the bullet is... is still there." His already pale face dropped.

"Okay, okay," Tony said, nodding anxiously as he slipped the tie around Peter's arm.

"W-what are you..."

"I have to put pressure on it, son... I'm so sorry," Tony said through gritted teeth, carefully tying a knot and pulling the silk tight.

"Gaaaahhh," Peter gasped in pain, shielding his face behind his good arm.

"I know, I know..." Tony whispered, tears stinging the corners of his eyes as fought to staunch the flow of blood. "I'm so sorry..."

Peter bit down on his arm as Tony tightened the makeshift bandage and secured it in place.

"There we go," Tony soothed, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over Peter's shoulders. He wrapped his arms around the shaking spiderling.

"We're gonna get you home now," Tony muttered softly. "We'll get you taken care of. I just need you to hold on, okay?"

Peter nodded, closing his eyes in sheer exhaustion and taking a shuddering breath.

Tony pulled back, cupping Peter's face in his hands. "You stay with me, okay?" he said firmly. "I need you to stay awake." Quickly leaping up to his feet, he snatched the vest off of the ground and slipped it on, tapped his chest to re-engage his armour, then carefully scooped Peter up in his arms. Peter instinctively latched on, curling up against Tony's chest.

"Home, F.R.I.D.A.Y... now..." Tony said firmly. Dropping his voice as he tightened his arms around Peter, he whispered, "we're going home, Peter. Stay with me. We're going home."

Chapter Text

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.," Tony called out, holding Peter close to his armoured chest as they flew over the city, "can I get a read on Peter's vitals?"

He was becoming incredibly apprehensive. Peter had insisted on slipping his mask back on after they took off for fear that they would be spotted in the air, and not being able to see his face was making Tony worry.

"Pulse is holding steady at 80 bpm," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said. "Blood pressure: 100/70."

"That's good," Tony said. "Very good. Peter, you okay?"

Peter held tightly to Tony, shielding his face with his forearm. "M'okay, M-Mr. Stark."

"I need you alert," Tony said, trying his best to sound firm without letting the anxiety surface. "Don't go to sleep, okay? Look at the beautiful scenery!"

"...d'rather not look..." Peter mumbled into his arm.

Tony looked down, a bit surprised. "Don't tell me that you're afraid of heights," he exclaimed. "I've seen footage of you jumping off of skyscrapers!"

"Yeah," Peter said, swallowing thickly. "When I do that, I'M in control."

Ah.

"Okay, just hang tight," he said. "I've got you. We're almost home."

Before long, Tony was crossing the threshold of the property and beginning his swift descent.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., open the front doors," he said firmly as he approached the ground.

The entrance to the mansion opened up, and Tony flew inside, blasting down the stairs and weaving through the corridors until they reached the medical area. He landed next to one of the beds and gently laid Peter down on it before pulling off the mask. Peter's eyes were closed, his limp body still wrapped in the now blood-soaked suit jacket.

Tony disengaged his armour. "Peter?" he said anxiously, shaking Peter's shoulder.

"Hmm?" Peter hummed, his lids fluttering.

"Talk to me, buddy," he said. "I need you to stay awake until the doctor gets here."

Peter blinked slowly. "No..." he moaned softly. "No hospital... they'll know who I am... please..."

"No, Pete," Tony said, alarmed by Peter's sudden shift in demeanour. "We're not at a hospital: we're at my house. And the doctor is one of us."

Peter's brow furrowed. "Us?"

"An Avenger," Tony said. "No ordinary doctor."

Peter looked even more befuddled. "I'm an Avenger?"

"No, I mean that the doctor has powers, and he's my friend, and..." Tony looked around. "And he should be here by now. F.R.I.D.A.Y., call Pepper."

Moments later, Pepper's voice rang out through the speaker, cutting through the thick fog of background noise: "Tony, what's going on?"

"Is Bruce here?" Tony asked, looking Peter up and down in concern.

"I've got Bruce," Pepper replied. "Happy called me and said that he couldn't leave but that it was an emergency, so I sent a chopper. We're landing in a moment. Can I tell him what we brought him here for?"

"Peter's been shot."

There was a lengthy pause.

"shot?" she asked, completely aghast. "As in..."

"Just get him down here as soon as possible. Thank you. Hang up, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

Tony pulled up a chair and sat down at Peter's bedside. "Talk to me," he said, brushing the sweaty hair off of Peter's forehead. "I need you to stay awake."

"M'not dying, Mr. Stark," Peter mumbled drowsily. "I promise. I heal fast. I proved it to you."

"Have you ever had to recover from a gunshot wound before?" Tony asked.

Peter hesitated. "No..."

"That's what I thought," Tony said. "Keep talking. Tell me the elements again if you want. Or..."

"How'd you know I was Spider-Man?" Peter asked.

Tony shook his head. "It's you who needs to keep talking. Not me."

"Still want to know," Peter said dimly.

"We'll talk later," Tony replied. "For now... how many digits of pi do you know?"

Peter's head lolled to the side. "Three point one four one five nine two six five."

"That's it?" Tony asked incredulously. "Are you serious?"

Peter smiled wearily. "S'not that useful. I can recite the Fibonacci sequence if you want."

"Oh, because that's SO much more useful?" Tony quipped.

"Therezooo many applications!" Peter said, "N' patterns errywhere in nature..."

"Okay, fine," Tony said with a smirk. "Let's hear the Mariachi sequence."

"Fibonacci," Peter said insistently. He closed his eyes. "One, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four..."

Tony smiled, blinking back tears as he watched Peter count. Despite everything that he was going through, the boy seemed remarkably relaxed. He wasn't showing any signs of pain on his face, and...

...wait. That's not a good sign.

Peter had trailed off somewhere between 233 and 377. He looked dazed.

Tony's face paled. "Peter?" Tony said hurried, quickly scrambling to his feet. "What's next? Two thirty-three plus three seventy-seven. Come on, I know you know it..."

"It..." Peter swallowed thickly. "Six something..."

"Okay, buddy," Tony said, fumbling for the oxygen tank stored under the bed. "Stay with me, okay?" He turned on the machine and placed the mask over Peter's mouth and nose. "Take a deeeeep breath for me, the deepest breath you've taken all day."

Peter did as he was told.

"Good, good..." Tony said, resting his hand on Peter's forehead. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., give me a vitals report on Peter."

"Blood pressure: 90/60. Pulse: 140 bpm."

"Shit..." Tony muttered. "Peter? Focus on your breathing, okay? Deep breaths. Deeper. Count to four when you breathe in, then exhale."

Peter's heavy lids were clearly fighting him, but he kept his gaze fixed on Tony.

"That's it," Tony said softly, stroking Peter's hair. "You're doing great, bud. Keep going. Stay with me."

The sound of approaching footsteps made Tony straighten up anxiously, just in time to see Pepper and Bruce rushing in.

"Oh my God," Pepper gasped, skidding to a halt at the sight of their newest patient.

"I think he's going into shock," Tony blurted as Bruce hurried to Peter's bedside.

Bruce felt for Peter's pulse at the side of his neck, then pressed the back of his hand against his cheek. "You may be right," he said grimly, "but we got him. Good call on the oxygen. We'll need to get I.V. fluids ASAP." He peeled back the sides of the jacket. "We'll need to get the suit off."

Pepper's eyes bugged at the sight of Peter's telltale attire. "You mean... he's..."

"Yes," Tony said firmly, tugging at the suit on Peter's uninjured side while Bruce carefully unwrapped the silk tie bandage.

"Nice dressing," Bruce said with a shaky smile, slowly unveiling the wound.

"Bruce, watch it," Tony said, his eyes dancing. "It was bleeding like crazy in the field."

Bruce peeked at the bullet hole. "It looks like it's stopped. That... wow, that seems..."

Peter pushed off the oxygen mask. "I..." *cough*"...I heal fast," he said. "Just need..."

"Keep that mask on," Tony said firmly, situating it back on Peter's face. "He appears to have above average healing capabilities, but the bullet is still lodged in his arm."

"Jus'nee help getting it out," Peter mumbled into the mask. "Then'll be fine."

"We'll get out for you... Peter, was it?" Bruce asked. "We just need to get you stabilized first."

"Screw this," Tony muttered, tired of trying to tug down the taut fabric of Peter's suit. He reached for the instrument tray on the beside table, snatched up a pair of scissors, then began slicing down the arm of the garment. "Sorry, pal," he said. "We'll make you a nice new one."

"Here, switch me," Bruce said, rushing to the other side of the bed. "Cut the other arm while I'm getting the I.V. in." He freed Peter's right arm from the fabric and began cleaning the skin with an alcohol swab.

Tony took Bruce's place on Peter's injured side.

Pepper hesitantly approached the bed. "Can I help?"

"Here," Tony said, snipping the fabric at the wrist and cutting upward. "Help move the cloth out of the way as I go. Peter, tell me if I'm hurting you, buddy," he added, clenching his jaw.

"Slight pinch here, Peter," Bruce said, swiftly inserting the needle into his other arm.

Peter didn't flinch. In fact, he seemed alarmingly unresponsive to everything that was going on.

"Peter?" Tony called, struggling to hide the nerves.

"Mmmhmm," Peter hummed.

Bruce pulled a pen light out of his pocket and shined it in Peter's eyes, moving it back and forth to check the pupillary response.

"You're doing great, kid," Bruce said, pulling back and looking Peter up and down. "Can we pull this back?" he asked, pointing to the suit. "See if he has any other injuries."

Pepper and Tony carefully cut and peeled away the suit, baring Peter's chest. To their horror, there was an almost comically large bruise blossoming on the right side of Peter's ribcage.

"What happened there, Peter?" Bruce said, trailing his fingers carefully along the bruise. "That doesn't look like it's from today."

Tony's jaw slackened.

Pepper looked up. "Tony?" she said. "Let's step out for a second."

"No," Tony said robotically. "Not going anywhere."

Bruce looked up. "I need to give him a quick exam," he said. "Might be best to give him some privacy."

"Come on," Pepper said, reaching for Tony's arm. "Just for a minute."

She led Tony into the hall, dragging a small plastic chair behind her. "Take a moment," she said, setting the chair down and motioning for Tony to sit. "Process."

Tony sank down into the chair and buried his face in his hands. "How the fuck is this happening..."

Pepper knelt next to him, tracing small circles against his back with her fingers. "What did happen?" she asked. "How did..."

"He took a bullet for me," Tony said blankly. "Someone tried to shoot me, and he just took him down."

"He what?" Pepper's arm dropped to her side.

"I don't even... I saw Spider-Man earlier, but I never made the connection... Peter was supposed to be at school. I don't know why he was even there. Some idiot brought a gun to the conference, then this Spider-Man swung in out of nowhere, and..."

He cut himself off at the side of Pepper's frightfully wide eyes and trembling hands.

"Pep, I'm okay," he said softly, reaching up to rest his hand against her cheek. "No one else was hurt."

She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his. "You were almost killed."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he said feebly, "but it's okay. They have the guy... it's okay."

She sniffed. "Peter really saved you?"

Tony slipped his hand into hers. "He did," he whispered. "And now, he's..." A lump formed in his throat immediately.

Pepper pressed a kiss against Tony's cheek. "Bruce will take good care of him. He's in good hands."

They both jumped at the sound of Tony's phone going off in his pocket. He fumbled for it, his heart sinking when he saw that it was Happy calling. In all of the excitement, he had somehow forgotten that he had abandoned Happy and Steve at the scene of the crime.

He swiped to answer. "Yes?" he said quietly.

"Tony," Happy said, sounding more than a little on edge, "I'm having a hard time explaining to the police why you left against their instructions."

"Well, you can tell them that if they can't comprehend why someone might flee the scene of their attempted murder, they should consider turning in their badges," Tony said simply.

"They'll take your statement over the phone," Happy urged. "Can you please just talk to them now and get it over with?"

"Fine," Tony grumbled.

Pepper stepped back into the room to see if Bruce needed any help. Tony stood up and paced up and down the hallway while the officer on the line dragged him through the mud of asinine questioning. "Yes, I got a decent look at the guy... I could probably pick him out in a lineup, yeah. No, I didn't recognize him. What? Sure, lots of people probably want me dead, but I haven't gotten any threats if that's what you mean... Christ, yes, I can check my spam folder to make sure..."

"Last question," the officer said finally. "What is your connection to Spider-Man, and do you know where he is?"

Tony hesitated. "That's two questions," he said. "I have no connection to Spider-Man. I don't know anything about him other than what we've all seen on the news."

"We would love to get a statement from him," the officer said. "If you receive any intel about his identity or his whereabouts..."

"You'll be the first to know," Tony said irritably.

When at long last, the officer had collected enough information, Tony was ready to chuck his phone at the wall, but Happy came back on the line.

"We're on our way back," he said. "Is everything okay?"

"When you and Cap get back," Tony said, "proceed to the medical wing immediately."

"What the hell, Tony? What did..."

But Tony dropped the call as soon as he heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He turned around to see Bruce looking a bit frazzled but... optimistic?

"He's stabilizing," Bruce said. "The bleeding stopped - miraculously - and I don't see any other signs of traumatic injury. Pretty tired but responsive. He might start to feel more pain as the adrenaline wears off, but we'll continue to monitor closely and administer medication as needed."

"He's lost a lot of blood," Tony said. "Shouldn't we give him a transfusion?"

Bruce looked uncomfortable. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" Tony said. "Find out his blood type. I could get it here in no time. We just..."

"Tony," Bruce said cautiously, "I don't think it's safe. You said he has powers?"

Tony looked at Bruce carefully. "As far as I know... superhuman strength and enhanced healing capabilities. Impressive reflexes..."

"And the ability to climb walls," Bruce added. "Clearly, his DNA has been altered. Without knowing enough about the mutation, it would not be wise to introduce any foreign blood to his system. There's no way of telling how his body might react."

Fuck. Bruce had a point.

Tony peered over Bruce's shoulder at Peter's ashen cheeks. Pepper was draping a white blanket over him and adjusting his pillows for comfort.

"He has no colour," Tony said desperately. "How can that be okay?"

"The oxygen is doing its job," Bruce said reassuringly, "and as the fluids in his body replenish, his blood pressure will continue to rise. We should be seeing steady improvement, even over the course of the next hour."

"Um... pardon me, doctor..." Peter said quietly, his voice slightly muffled by the oxygen mask. "Doctor... umm...?"

Surprised to hear him speaking, Bruce and Tony shuffled over to Peter's bedside. "Dr. Banner," Bruce said, "but call me Bruce."

"What is it, Pete?" Tony asked.

"Can... can you help me get the bullet out?" he asked, sliding the mask off of his face. "I'm afraid that the muscle will heal over it."

"Is... would your body really heal that fast?" Bruce asked.

Tony nodded. "He had a broken ankle heal within three days."

Bruce blinked. "Okay..." he said slowly. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., full vitals report, please." Bruce carefully examined the holographic screen that appeared above Peter's headboard. "It would be best to wait at least another two hours to make sure that you have enough oxygen circulating through your body. Otherwise, you may have a hard time handling the anesthesia."

"No," Peter said weakly. "No anaesthesia..."

"Peter," Bruce said, looking taken aback, "it's going to hurt a lot. You're not going to want to be awake for this."

"Please," Peter begged. "I don't need it. I'll be fine."

"Have you had problems with anesthesia before?" Pepper asked, confused.

"Don't put me out," Peter said. "I don't consent."

Tony eyed Peter carefully, thinking about what he had said on the way over about preferring to be in control.

"Banner," Tony said quietly, "do something else."

Bruce blinked up at Tony. "I..." he faltered. "I can sedate him and use a local anaesthetic, but it's not going to numb the entire arm."

"S'okay," Peter breathed. "Please..."

"Do it, Bruce," Tony said.

Bruce studied Peter's face. "You understand," he said, "that this will hurt, but you will have to lie very still?"

Peter nodded. "I can do it."

Bruce looked incredibly disquieted, as did Pepper. "Okay," he said uncomfortably. "Let's see what we can do here. Pepper, can you come with me?"

The two of them stepped out of the room to fetch the necessary supplies.

Tony rested his hand on Peter's head. "Is that another one of your powers?" he asked. "Super pain tolerance?"

Peter's face twitched. "No. Er...kind of?" he said. "I'm stronger than before, so I can... handle more, but my pain threshold... I don't know."

"Stronger..." Tony said thoughtfully. "Your strength lets you handle more stress on the body, but you feel pain about as much as you remember?"

Peter shrugged, wincing as he did so. "Something like that."

Tony felt a terrible sensation of foreboding. "Let's keep this on," he said, returning the oxygen mask to Peter's face. Peter accepted the gift, taking a deep breath and letting his eyes close.

It occurred to Tony that despite the fact that he had undoubtedly done the right thing by bringing Peter back to the mansion, people were likely looking for him. He should have been in school when the conference was taking place. What if the secretary had called home? If they did, what would Peter's guardian do about it?

He hesitated before speaking. "Pete, I think I know what the answer will be, and I will respect it, but I have to ask... should we be calling your foster father?"

Peter's eyes widened. He shook his head vigorously, trying to sit up.

"Easy," Tony said, pressing his hand against Peter's shoulder and coaxing him back down toward the bed. "That's all I wanted to know. Relax."

Peter's breathing slowly began to regulate as Bruce returned with a bin full of supplies. "Okay, Peter," he said. "I'm going to administer an intravenous sedative. You will become very relaxed but still alert. You'll be able to to respond to us; it just might take you some time. I will then inject a local anesthetic into your arm and numb as much of the area as I can, but it won't penetrate deep into the muscle. It will help a lot with the suturing, but you will feel me taking the bullet out, and it will not be pleasant. Are you okay with this?"

Peter nodded. "Yes," he said, fogging up the mask.

"Okay," Bruce said. "Let's get started, then."

Tony stepped out of the way to let Bruce hang the I.V. bag on the pole and insert the needle into his arm. He reclaimed his spot next to Peter and Bruce settled in on the other side of the bed and began numbing and prepping the area.

"Tony," Bruce said quietly, "if he starts to move, I'll need you to hold him down."

Tony tensed up. "Okay..." he said uneasily.

"I don't recommend watching what I'm doing," Bruce added as he selected his instruments.

That seemed like sound advice, so Tony took Peter's hand and busied himself with the task of monitoring his vitals on the screen. It appeared as though the sedatives were doing their job.

"Feeling pretty good there, sport?" he asked.

He was visibly relieved to see Peter smiling behind the mask. "Mmmhmmmmm!"

"Can you feel that, Peter?" Bruce asked, prodding his arm gently with the forceps.

"N..no," Peter replied drowsily.

"Very good," Bruce said. "I want you tell me if you can feel anything at any point."

Tony's eyes flickered across the screen. He was pleased to see that Bruce had been right and that their intervention seemed to be helping with Peter's condition significantly. His blood pressure was rising slowly but surely, his oxygen saturation was improving, his body temperature was holding steady, and his heart rate was elevated but not frighteningly so.

He turned back to look at Peter, who still appeared to be enjoying the full effects of the sedation. His eyes lingered on the greying bruise surrounding Peter's left eye. That wasn't likely an injury from his immaculately timed stunt today. Though it was possible that it had happened during one of Peter's missions as Spider-Man, it was far more likely that it had happened at home. That was something that Tony really didn't want to think about right now.

He noticed that Peter was starting to squirm.

"Do you feel that, Peter?" Bruce asked, looking up.

Peter nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and tightening his grip on Tony's hand.

"Don't move, buddy," Tony said softly, resting his free hand on Peter's forehead. "Lie still..."

"I'm going to work very carefully here, Pete, but it's very important that you don't jerk this arm," Bruce said. "It could result in lasting nerve damage."

"Squeeze my hand as tight as you want," Tony said, stroking Peter's hair. He turned back to watch the screen. Peter's heart rate was climbing.

"It's okay," Tony soothed. "You can do this."

Peter whimpered, squeezing Tony's hand even tighter.

"Almost got it..." Bruce muttered, angling the forceps. "It's right... there!" he said triumphantly, holding up his extracted prize.

"Oh God," Tony said involuntarily, gaping at the size of the bullet.

"I'm just amazed," Bruce said with a shake of his head, looking back down at the wound. "It looks like it severed part of the brachial artery, but it started to heal... It's a wonder that he didn't bleed out.

Bruce didn't miss the colour draining from Tony's face.

"Tony," Bruce said hurriedly, dropping the bullet into the collection tray on the bedside table and standing up, "sit down."

Tony obediently lowered himself into the chair behind him.

"Do you need to step out?" Bruce asked.

"No, no," Tony said, giving his head a shake. "I'm good right here."

He looked back up at Peter's face and saw the boy's eyes beginning to water.

"You're okay," Tony said, rubbing the back of Peter's hand with his thumb. "Sorry, buddy. Just got a little woozy."

Bruce sat back down and continued to inspect and clean the wound. "This looks pretty promising," he said. "Just need to give it some guidance to help the tissue heal properly."

Just then, Pepper appeared in the doorway. "Happy and Steve are here," she said breathlessly. "I told them what I know. They wanted to check on him, but we'll stay out of your way if..."

Happy peered around her into the room. "Oh my god," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I-it... it's really..."

"Spider-Man," Tony said with a weak smile, patting Peter's head. "Peter, your biggest fan is here."

"Peter is... he's really..." Happy's legs began to weaken at the sight of the bloodied sheets.

"Maaaaybe we should step outside," Pepper said, guiding Happy back into the hall.

"That sounds wise," Bruce said, "but Steve, I could actually use a hand if you're willing."

Steve strode in calmly as Pepper led Happy out of sight. "What do you need?"

"I have to start stitching," Bruce explained. "The internal stitches are not going to be fun for Peter. We may need some help keeping him calm and still."

"No problem," Steve replied, approaching the bed.

Tony's stomach was in a knot, but he did not leave Peter's side. Steve took his position next to Bruce, poised to jump in upon request.

"Okay, Peter," Bruce said apologetically. "Going to get started on the suturing now. Focus on your breathing for me."

Tony kept one hand on Peter's forehead and continued to hold his hand with the other.

Bruce went in for the first stitch, and Peter immediately started to writhe.

"Easy," Steve said, pressing down on Peter's wrist in an effort to keep his arm steady.

"You got this, Peter," Tony said. "It will be over soon."

Peter gasped in pain, scrunching up his face and fighting to keep still.

"That's it," Bruce said calmly, finishing off the first stitch. "You're doing great, Peter."

Tony's heart wrenched at the sight of a tear slipping down Peter's cheek.

"Going back in," Bruce said, moving onto the next suture.

Peter cried out in pain, involuntarily arching his back. Tony and Steve moved in quickly, pinning him down by the shoulders.

"I know, Peter, I'm sorry," Bruce said sympathetically, "but I need you to be still."

Tony looked back at the screen. Peter's heart rate was skyrocketing, and his breathing was becoming alarmingly shallow. This was not good.

He leaned in closer. "Look at me," he said. "Forget everything else, okay?" He turned loose of Peter's hand and pressed his own against Peter's diaphragm. "Deep, deep breath, okay? You remember... all the way in... very good... let it all out... good job. Do it again."

Tears streamed down Peter's face as he gasped through the pain and tried his best to follow Tony's direction.

"There you go..." Tony whispered. "Just you and me. You've got this. Toughest kid I know. That's it..."

Tony cupped Peter's cheek with one hand and guided his breathing with the other, the room dissolving around them as their breaths gradually synchronized. He heard nothing, saw nothing but Peter, whose limited reserve of energy was being channelled into pushing through the pain with all his might.

"Okay," Bruce said finally. "The worst is over. Take a minute, Peter. You've earned it."

Peter's entire body slackened, his head falling back against the pillow. Tony exhaled loudly, then finally lifted his head to look around the room, momentarily forgetting where he was. Nothing seemed familiar except for Steve's face, which appeared briefly before immediately beginning to blur.

"Hey, Tony..." Cap said worriedly, hurrying to his side.

"Steve, take him into the hall," Bruce said. "I can take it from here. I just have to finish the external sutures."

"But... he..." Tony stammered, his arms trembling.

"It's okay, Tony. He won't feel a thing," Bruce said. "I promise."

Steve guided Tony into the hall.

"Stark," he said, putting his hands on Tony's shoulders. "Everything's fine. Peter's going to be okay. You understand that, right?"

"He's..." Tony hiccuped, his gaze drifting helplessly over to Peter's pale, motionless form in the bed, then back to Steve.

"What is it?" Steve asked, his eyes dancing with worry.

"...he's just a kid," he choked.

Steve's shoulders sagged. "I know," he said quietly, wrapping Tony up in his arms. "I know."

Tony buried his face into Steve's shoulder, his body shaking with quiet sobs.

Steve patted Tony's back, blinking in disbelief over the fact that he was comforting the most stoic person he'd ever met. "It's okay," he whispered. "He's safe. You saved his life."

"He saved mine," Tony wept. "He took a bullet for me. He's sixteen... "

Pepper and Happy appeared momentarily, with Happy attempting to handle four mugs between his two hands. "Coffee, anyone?" he asked, his face dropping when he saw Tony turn away, frantically swiping at his eyes. "Tony... what happened?"

Pepper was at his side in an instant, enveloping him in her arms.

Happy peered nervously through the door. "Is he..."

"He's fine," Steve said assuredly. "All good. The bullet is out. Bruce is just finishing up."

"Okay... that's good... okay," Happy said distantly, giving his head a shake and heading off in search of a place to put the coffees.

"Tony," Bruce called from the room. "We're all set here. You can come and see him if you like."

Tony straightened up, hastily wiping his face and fidgeting with his shirt. He strode back into the room, attempting to look composed.

"All stitched up and bandaged," Bruce said. "I'm going to keep him on the sedative for just a little while longer, just to give him some time to relax."

Tony looked down at Peter, who looked as though he had either fallen asleep or was about to. "Can we... is there anything we can give him for pain?" he asked.

Bruce nodded, then began to pack up his materials. "Yes. Once the sedative wears off, I'll reassess his vitals and make a decision about pain medication." He picked up the bin of used instruments. "Do you need anything from me right now?"

"No," Tony said, scrubbing a hand across his face. "Just... Bruce, thank you. Really just... thank you." He reached for the chair and pulled it up to the side of the bed."

"I'll be back in a bit," Bruce said as he headed out the door. "Breathe easy, Tony. He's gonna be okay."

Tony took Peter's hand. "You hear that, Peter?" he said, reaching up and rubbing his shoulder with other hand. "You did a great job. You are something else, you know that?"

From the doorway, Steve watched in bewilderment as Tony smiled fondly at Peter through his tears.

"What is it?" Pepper asked, taking a step forward.

"I just..." Steve paused. "I've never seen him like this."

Pepper's gaze drifted over to Tony's. "I know what you mean," she said. "It's a completely different side of him."

"You know," Steve said, turning his back to the room and leaning against the wall, looking at Pepper knowingly. "He would be an amazing father."

Pepper smirked, watching Tony lean over and rest his head on his arm, his eyes never leaving Peter's face. "I think about that all the time."

Chapter Text

"Stark, why don't you go take a walk?"

Tony shifted slightly in his seat, but his hand did not leave Peter's arm. "No thanks."

"Tony," Bruce said, "he's stable and comfortably sedated. He'll be fine."

"I'm good here," Tony insisted.

Bruce sighed. "You were almost murdered today. Take a walk. Clear your head. Eat something. Take care of yourself."

Tony eyed Peter carefully. He seemed to have dozed off. This would be as good a time as any to step out for a few minutes.

"Fine," Tony said, straightening up, "but I won't be long. Don't take him off of sedation or start him on any meds until I get back."

"I won't," Bruce said, "but I really thought you trusted me more than that."

Tony looked at him. "It's not that I... it's just..." he trailed off. "He doesn't have anyone looking out for him. That's all."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "What about his family?"

Tony remained silent, his gaze fixated on the dusky halo surrounding Peter's eye.

"Wait," Bruce said, realization dawning on him. "Does he... where is his family? Do they even know what happened to him?"

"That's..." Tony shook his head. "I'll explain it all later. Right now, we just need to focus on his health."

"Hold on," the bewildered doctor pressed. "You can't just..."

...but Tony was already strolling out of the room, desperately in need of some air. Clearing his head was not a reasonably attainable wish, but he took some time to use the restroom, step outside, and ponder what the hell he was going to do next.

The fact that Peter was safe and receiving the appropriate medical care was by far the most important thing, but he was now forced to start thinking in the long term. For all he knew, Peter's foster father was looking for him right now. If he filed a missing persons report, Tony could be liable for...

...wait, did Tony technically kidnap a teenager?

Sure, he had only taken him to give him necessary medical attention, but if the authorities got involved, how could he explain what happened without revealing that Peter Parker was Spider-Man?

Hell, he still had yet to process the fact that Peter Parker, his bright-eyed, brilliant apprentice, was the crime-fighting web slinger from the news.

One thing at a time.

First things first: he had to make sure that Peter was mentally and physically stable. Then, as soon as possible, he would have to sit down with him and have a candid conversation about their next steps. If there was anything that he had learned over the past few weeks, it was that Peter would have to be involved in any decision-making if Tony truly wanted to do what was best for him.

With that in mind, he returned to the medical wing, pleased to find that Peter was still asleep and that Bruce was still in the room.

"Looking good," Bruce said with a nod. "His oxygen levels are already coming up quite a bit."

"Thankfully," Tony said, eyeing the stats on the screen. "And BP is still rising."

Bruce strode over to Peter's right side and carefully removed the I.V. that had been administering the sedative, though he left the fluid drip in place.

"Are you going to give him pain meds now?" Tony asked.

"I'd like to wait until the sedation wears off," Bruce replied. "Find out exactly how much Peter is feeling in order to give him what he needs and nothing more."

This made Tony nervous, considering that Peter had said that his pain threshold had not been affected by... well, whatever it was that happened to him.

"How long will it take for the sedation to wear off?"

"It's usually pretty quick," Bruce said. "He may still feel lingering effects for several hours, but he'll be alert within minutes." He lifted the blanket, chuckling to see that Peter was still dressed from the waist down in his shredded spider suit. "When he's a little more awake, we'll get him properly dressed."

"Does he still need the oxygen?" Tony asked.

"I'll leave it on for now, but he can take it off if he's uncomfortable," Bruce said. He looked down at Peter. "This poor kid," he said. "He's been through a lot."

"You have no idea," Tony muttered.

Bruce's gaze drifted back up to Tony. "So..." he said hesitantly, "am I to assume that his familial situation is..."

"Less than ideal," Tony said, "but he's taken care of."

Bruce mulled that over. "Do we need to make some phone calls?"

"Not at the moment," Tony said, resuming his post at Peter's bedside.

Bruce looked unsettled, but he seemed to accept Tony's answer. Gathering himself, he said, "Peter will probably be more comfortable waking up without strangers in the room, so I'll give you some time as long as you're okay."

"All good, Bruce," Tony said. "Thank you."

No sooner had the doctor stepped out than the patient began to stir. Tony waited with bated breath for him to awaken.

"Hey," he said softly, when Peter's eyes opened at long last. "Welcome back."

Peter blinked back slowly at Tony.

"You're just coming out of sedation," Tony said. "You're going to feel a little strange, but that's okay."

Peter pawed at the oxygen mask, so Tony carefully slipped it off and reached under the bed to switch off the machine.

"Better?" he asked.

Peter nodded.

Tony set the mask down and sat back in his chair. "You saved my life, Parker."

Peter's cheeks pinkened, offering delightful contrast to the pallid complexion that had dominated in previous hours.

"I can't believe you did that," Tony said. "You had a bullet removed from your arm while you were still awake. How are you feeling now? How is the pain?"

Peter shifted slightly in bed. "Fine," he said groggily.

"You have a tendency to downplay your injuries," Tony said. "I haven't forgotten."

Peter shook his head but appeared too weary to argue.

Tony reached forward, then traced his thumb lightly along the perimeter of the slowly fading black circle around Peter’s eye. “What’s the story here?” he asked quietly.

Peter visibly stiffened.

“It’s okay,” Tony said hurriedly, moving his hand down to Peter’s arm. “You don’t have to talk about it right now. You don’t have to talk at all.”

Peter stared at the opposite wall silently for the better part of the minute, then suddenly lifted his head. "Are we in a hospital?"

"No," Tony replied. "We're at my house, remember? This is the same place where I stitched up your arm on your first day of work.”

Peter blinked, then lowered himself back down onto the pillow. "When can I leave?"

"You want to leave already? But you just got here!" he joked.

His smile faded as he watched the confusion in Peter's expression melt into concern. "Bruce will want to keep you for observation for maybe a few days, but you can stay as long as you need to, Peter."

"I have to go home," Peter said, starting to sit up in bed.

Tony felt a bit taken aback, but he chalked it up to Peter still being disoriented. "Relax," he said. "We just need to..."

"I need to go," Peter insisted, pushing down the blanket and trying to kick his legs free.

"Hey, buddy," Tony said gently, trying to tug the blanket back up. "The sedative is just beginning to wear off, so you're probably feeling a bit confused right now. You're okay."

"I just... I can't be here..." Peter whined, shrinking away from Tony.

Tony had no intention of bringing Peter back to the dreaded apartment, but he had to calm the boy down. "You can go soon, Peter," he lied, now fighting to keep Peter from tearing out his own I.V., "but we need to monitor you. You started going into shock after losing all of that blood. We'll get you out of here as soon as you are stable."

"School," Peter said breathlessly, trying to wrestle his good arm away from Tony. "Have to go to school..."

"You can go to school once your arm heals," Tony said, trying to push Peter back down toward the bed.

Peter sat straight back up. "I'll get in trouble," he whimpered. "I don't have anything here. I have to go now..."

"You won't be in any trouble," Tony insisted, struggling to get Peter to look him in the eye. "I've got your back, okay? You just need to calm down so that we can help you."

"Please," Peter begged, "I can't..." He clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes darting around in panic.

"What is it?" Tony asked. "Oh... you're going to be sick... okay, here, hang on..." He dove under the bed for a plastic pan and managed to thrust it under Peter's face just in time.

"BANNER!" he shouted.

Bruce was already hustling in, having been alerted by F.R.I.D.A.Y. moments earlier.

"Why is he throwing up?" Tony demanded, rubbing the exhausted boy's back.

"It's okay," Bruce said, hastily preparing a syringe. "I'll administer an anti-nauseant."

"Why is it happening?" Tony repeated, cringing as Peter heaved once more. "What did you do?"

"This is a common reaction to the sedative," Bruce said calmly. "Okay, Peter, let me see your arm, buddy." He swiftly injected the medication and applied pressure to the injection site with a gauze pad.

"The hell it is," Tony said, irritably. "You never said anything about this before!"

Bruce discarded the syringe and fetched a cloth with which to wipe Peter's mouth. "I've been monitoring him carefully, and F.R.I.D.A.Y. was asked to alert me if there were any changes in his condition so that I can treat him accordingly. As you can see, this plan is working well."

Tony stepped around to look at Peter. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes dancing with worry. "Do you feel like you're going to throw up again?"

Peter shook his head, looking utterly defeated.

"The medicine should work very quickly," Bruce said. He took the receptacle out of the way and set it to the side, then turned back to Peter. "Okay," he said, "let's get you comfortable here."

Peter's eyes were still flickering anxiously while the vitals screen appeared to report a rather aggressive heart rate.

"What's wrong, Peter?" Tony asked.

"I..." Peter squirmed. "I... I need..."

"Bathroom?" Bruce asked with a knowing smile.

Peter ducked his head, failing to conceal the obvious blush.

"Oh," Tony said sheepishly. "Makes sense."

He strongly suspected that there was far more on Peter's mind than his bladder.

"We can fix that," Bruce said. "We'll get you cleaned up and changed while we're at it."

Peter lifted up the blanket in confusion, just now noticing the tattered remains of his suit. "M-my..."

"I'm sorry, Peter," Tony said, "we had to cut it to get it out of the way, but we'll make you a new one. You can work on it with me in the lab. We can customize it however you want."

Tony couldn't figure out if Peter looked more bewildered or dejected, but his breathing was continuing to intensify.

"He's right, you know," Bruce said, carefully helping Peter to his feet. "He could make you a full set of armour if you wanted."

Peter allowed Bruce to help him stand up, but his legs - and lip - were quivering violently.

"Doc..." Tony began.

"One thing at a time," Bruce said, leading Peter over to the bathroom. "Pete, there's a cabinet with some fresh gowns in it. You can change into one of those whenever you're ready."

Peter nodded silently, his jaw slack, then slipped into the bathroom and pushed the door shut behind him before anyone could ask if he needed any help.

"What is happening to him?" Tony hissed.

"He's just confused," Bruce said, "and probably just beginning to feel the pain resurfacing. When he's done in the bathroom, I'll talk to him about pain medication and see what he's comfortable with."

Though it was possible that Peter's anxiety was merely a side effect of the sedative wearing off, this was certainly not the first time that Tony had seen Peter in such a state. It was clearly something that he struggled with on a regular basis, which was not at all surprising given the lack of stability in his home life. Once this particular ordeal was behind them, Tony could look into getting Peter the help that he so desperately needed and deserved.

"I hope he'll listen to reason," Tony said. "If he could just..."

The middle of his sentence was punctuated by a metallic clattering sound. Both Tony's and Bruce's heads snapped in the direction of the bathroom.

"Peter?" Bruce called out, approaching the door and knocking hesitantly. "You okay?"

No answer.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., unlock the door," Tony said brusquely.

As soon as the lock clicked, Tony threw the door open. His gaze, along with Bruce's, drifted up toward Peter, who was pressed against the ceiling and evidently poised to slip into the freshly opened air vent. Despite having had a clear mission, he remained frozen in place, staring back at Tony with fearful eyes.

He was trying to… escape?

Tony wanted to yell. Where the hell are you going? Why in God’s name don’t you feel safe here? Why won’t you allow yourself to trust the people who have only ever done their best to look out for you?

Instead, he took a breath.

"Peter," he said, his voice almost eerily quiet. "I can see that you are scared. I can only imagine what must be going through your mind right now after what you've been through today, and the disorientation that you are that you are experiencing as the sedative wears off probably isn't helping the anxiety. However, I need you to know that you do not need to escape. You are not trapped here: you can leave at any time."

Peter's body visibly relaxed, though his wide eyes remained fixed on Tony as his chest continued to rise and fall.

"I would just ask," Tony went on, "that you stay long enough to let us make sure that you are recovering well. If you're willing, I'd also love to get you fitted for a new spider suit."

Peter eyes flickered toward the tattered strips of fabric dangling from his torso.

"In any case, you are welcome and safe here. You can stay as long as you want and leave whenever you feel you need to."

Peter remained glued to his spot, staring fixedly at Tony as his eyes began to glisten. Ultimately, he appeared to agree to Tony's terms, gently releasing his feet from the ceiling and allow himself to drop down onto the floor.

"Thank you," Tony said quietly. "Thank you for trusting us."

Peter said nothing, keeping his head down.

"Let's get you dressed," Bruce said, opening up the aforementioned cabinet in search of a gown.

"Mr. Stark," Peter said in a barely audible voice, "can you go?"

"Of course," Tony replied. "I'll give you some privacy." He calmly stepped out of the bathroom and strode out into the hallway.

After allowing himself a minute or two to gather his thoughts, he began working with F.R.I.D.A.Y. on a few new protocols that would apparently be needed to ensure Peter's safety during his time in the medical wing: in addition to receiving regular updates about Peter's vitals, Tony insisted on being notified if there was any indication that Peter was in distress or attempting to escape. He sincerely hoped that the latter would never have to be activated.

A few minutes later, Bruce appeared in the doorway. Tony peered around him and noticed Peter lying in a freshly-laundered bed with a blue hospital gown, looking saddened but significantly calmer than before.

Before Tony could step inside, Bruce closed the door behind him.

"He's asked if he can be alone for a while," Bruce said.

Tony peered through the window. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Bruce said. "The medication is doing its job, and his condition is improving remarkably fast, but it's a lot for him to process right now. I think he just needs a little bit of time to himself."

Tony's jaw clenched. Sometimes, he hated when Bruce was right.

"I'll give him some time and then approach him about pain medication," Bruce went on. "It will help with the anxiety as well. If his body heals as well as you are saying, he probably won't need it for long."

"Let's hope so," Tony said.

"In the meantime," Bruce said, "I think it's time that you got some rest yourself."

"Don't worry about me," Tony said dismissively.

"You're not going to be of any use to anybody if you don't look after yourself," Bruce insisted.

"I'm not your patient," Tony said bitterly. "I don't take orders from you."

"I'm not giving orders," Bruce sighed, "just friendly advice."

"Who said you were my friend?"

"Tony, don't be a dick."

Startled by Pepper's voice, Tony whipped around. "Where did you come from?"

Bruce smirked, then turned on his heel, figuring that this was as good a time as any to step away. He was fairly confident that he could predict the conversation that would follow.

Pepper began by urging Tony to go upstairs and get something to eat. He assured her that he was not a child and could take care of himself, which prompted her to remind him that though she had no interest in being his mother, she was legally obligated to care about him as his wife. It didn't take more than a minute or two of bickering for Tony to concede that a meal was probably in his best interest.

After sitting down for a quick bite with Pepper, Tony headed back down to the medical wing to check on Peter once again. He peered through the window and saw Bruce talking to Peter. He quickly ducked out of the way before Peter could spot him, but Bruce must have caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye. Within minutes, Bruce joined Tony in the hallway.

"Did you give him meds yet?" Tony asked.

Bruce shook his head. "He's refusing."

Tony blinked. "Why?"

"He just doesn't want them," he said. "We talked about the different options, but he said he would rather just stick it out."

"He has a bullet wound in his arm," Tony said. "I don't care what kind of healing abilities he supposedly has. He needs something for pain."

"He doesn't want it," Bruce repeated. "That's his choice. If he changes his mind, we give him the meds. That's how this goes."

"I know it's his choice, but..." Tony gazed at Peter through the window. "Wouldn't it be his parents' call if he had... if they were here?"

"He would still have autonomy," Bruce said. "Let him be. He wants to sleep it off. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will continue to monitor him. If he needs something, he knows to ask for it."

But he won't, Tony thought.

"Tony," Bruce said, maintaining a level of patience that Tony could not muster, "We've got him. He's going to be fine."

Tony's jaw clenched. "He'd better be."

"Go to bed," Bruce said, stifling a yawn. "I'm about to do the same."

Knowing that arguing further was not likely to be productive, Tony retreated to the adjacent room, which would serve as his sleeping quarters for the night. The fact that Bruce had volunteered to stay at the mansion for the night was comforting, but not enough to completely settle Tony's nerves. For the time being, there was nothing more that either of them could do to help Peter, so the best that he could do was pray that Peter would sleep well and wake up feeling as close to normal as possible.

He undressed and settled into bed, waiting anxiously for sleep to envelop him.

-----

"Mr. Stark," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice rang out.

Tony's eyes snapped open. "What is it?"

"Mr. Parker's heart rate is elevated, and his breathing is erratic."

Tony stumbled to his feet, rubbing his eyes as he attempted to blink away the head rush. "Is he awake?"

"Yes," F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded. "He has not yet fallen asleep."

"What..." Tony's brow furrowed. "What time is it?"

"Two thirty-six A.M."

"He hasn't slept at all," Tony muttered. "What the hell?"

He hustled into Peter's room and found him sitting upright in bed with his face buried in his hands, chest heaving.

"Hey," Tony said, hurrying to Peter's side. "What hurts?"

Startled, Peter snapped up. "W-what do you want?" he stammered. "I said go away!" His face was ashen.

"You didn't specify the length of time," Tony said, gently lifting Peter's wrist and feeling for the racing pulse.

"Forever," Peter spat.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "See, he's my problem, Peter," he said. "There's a pattern emerging. You always tell me to go away whenever there's something wrong, so forgive my hesitation here."

"I don't need you," Peter said through gritted teeth. "I need to go home."

Tony's patience was wearing thin. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that Peter was by no means thinking or acting rationally, as he counted backwards from five. "Getting you out of here is the goal," he said calmly. "The more help you accept from us, the sooner we can discharge you."

Peter's laboured breathing was only continuing to accelerate. He was either in severe pain or experiencing a panic attack.

"Come on, Peter," Tony said. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"I c-can't stay," Peter whispered, hot tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "Too safe... I can't... it... it's..."

Panic, it is.

"Stay with me, buddy," Tony said, hurrying over to the cabinet and rummaging through its drawers until he found a white paper bag. "We've been through this before. You're okay." He opened up the bag as he returned to Peter's side, then held the open end up to Peter's mouth. "Deep breaths in here."

Peter obediently grabbed the bag with both hands breathed into it.

"That's it," Tony said, rubbing Peter's back. "You're okay."

Bruce walked in moments later, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning, Peter," he said with a yawn. "We need to get that heart rate under control."

"He was hyperventilating," Tony said. "He's had panic attacks like this before, but there could be more going on."

"Duly noted," Bruce said, approaching Peter's bedside and inserting the earpieces of his stethoscope.

Peter's breathing had once again evened out. He lowered the paper bag, failing to conceal the sheer exhaustion in his expression. "There's nothing going on," he said, though his shoulders were beginning to tremble. "I'm fine."

Bruce pressed the bell of the stethoscope against Peter's chest. "You may be right," Bruce said, "but the change in your vitals is significant enough to warrant an exam."

Taking the hint, Tony patted Peter on the shoulder. "I'll step out," he said. "You know where to find me."

"Deep breath in," Bruce said (to both Peter and Tony, perhaps), as Tony retreated to the hallway.

He took a seat next to the door and tilted his head against the wall, allowing his eyes to close. Though it wasn't his intention to fall asleep, he was just beginning to doze off when Bruce startled him by opening the door.

"Your wish has been granted," Bruce said. "He's finally agreed to the medication."

Tony blinked. “Why now?”

“I just explained to him that his body will have a much harder time healing if he doesn’t sleep well and that the calming effect of the medication could be incredibly beneficial in that sense.”

"What are you giving him?" Tony asked.

"Morphine," Bruce said, "but I'm going to monitor him carefully for the next two hours just to make sure that the dose is okay and that he's responding properly."

"I'll stay, then," Tony said, straightening up.

Bruce shook his head. "Go back to bed."

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but he quickly stopped himself when he realized what Bruce wasn't saying: Peter didn't want him there. It would only make him more anxious.

"Fine," he said, "but you come get me if..."

"I will," Bruce said. "Sweet dreams."

Tony kept his distance for the next several hours, but he gave up on trying to sleep. Reclining in his bed, he pulled out his phone to research the possible side effects of the medications that Bruce had chosen to administer. Knowing now that Peter's body was far from ordinary, to say the least, he feared that it might react unfavourably to their intervention, but he had no choice but to leave that with Bruce.

As he continued to search for answers to the many questions that swirled around his head, it wasn't long before he fell into a YouTube rabbit hole of Spider-Man's most impressive exploits. He had never taken much of an interest in the web-slinging vigilante, despite Happy's apparent arachnophilia. However, now that he knew who was behind the mask... he watched video after video, awestruck by Peter's abilities and mildly sickened by his sheer audacity.

"Mr. Parker is awakening," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said suddenly.

Tony blinked, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the video player long enough to glance at the time on his phone. He was surprised to see that it was after 6 AM.

"Is he okay?" he asked anxiously, hastily sliding out of the bed.

"All vitals are stable. No noticeable signs of distress." 

"Thank God," Tony muttered, hurrying down the hall toward Peter's room. Cautiously, he opened the door and peered around it.

Though Peter's eyes were open, he was visibly relaxed. It was as though his body had begun to melt into the mattress, and there wasn't a sliver of tension on his face. He had appeared to be staring at the wall before Tony arrived, but his head slowly turned in the direction of the door.

"Mzter Stark," he slurred.

"Hey, Spider-Man," Tony said, approaching the bed calmly and standing next to Peter on his uninjured side. "How are you feeling?"

"Pree good," Peter said, his mouth curling upward.

Tony couldn't help but sigh in relief, his face breaking into a weary - but grateful - smile. "I'm glad to see that the drugs are working nicely for you."

Peter's brow suddenly furrowed. "How did you figure it out?"

“What, that you're on drugs?" Tony asked.

"No," Peter interrupted, "that I'm Spider-Man."

"Oh," Tony chuckled. "To be honest, I was incredibly oblivious given all of the evidence. Your strength, your reflexes, your healing speed... those should have been dead giveaways, but I don't think I wanted to believe that my apprentice had a side job."

Peter smiled sleepily.

Tony went on, "but it was when Happy showed me the footage of you getting your foot crushed by that drunk driver that I made the connection. That was maybe five minute before I found you."

Peter squinted. "Why would that... oh..."

"Yes," Tony said, "because I remembered the limp. The dates lined up, and... in that moment, I knew, and I knew I had to find you."

Peter swallowed. "Thank you," he said, "for looking for me."

Tony instinctively slipped his hand into Peter's. "Peter, I'll be forever in your debt," he said. "I'm still trying to work out how you stopped that shooter or why you were even there."

"I didn't go to school," Peter said. "I was just out, then I saw somethin' on the news about the conference, and I wanted to see."

"You were really just going to show up in uniform?" Tony grinned.

"Nah, just watch from a distance," Peter said. "Was curious."

"Why didn't you go to school that day?" Tony asked.

Peter ignored the question. "I was up on the roof of that building, and... something wasn't right. I could feel it. Started looking everywhere, scanning the crowd... I just knew something was going to happen. I saw the guy behind you, and... I didn't even think. Just barrelled into him. I looked around, and it didn't look like anyone was hurt, so I tied him down and got out of there... didn't even notice that I was bleeding until I got back up to the rooftops."

"You were up there alone for a while," Tony said quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

"It was okay," Peter said. "A little scary because I started to feel really cold and I couldn't get the bleeding to stop. But then you were there, and..." Peter swallowed. "I was so afraid that you'd take my mask off and then you'd... I don't know. I don't know what I thought. But you weren't mad... you just wanted to help."

"Why would I be mad?" Tony asked.

"Because I didn't tell you," Peter said. "I guess... I never said I wasn't, but..."

Eyeing the bruise on Peter's face, Tony said, "That's not the only thing you've been hiding."

Peter's mouth twitched.

"You've bragged about your perfect attendance many times, Peter," he said quietly. "Why weren't you at school yesterday?"

"Because," he said simply, "I didn't know how to hide this." He pointed to his black eye.

"What happened?" Tony asked, silently hoping that Peter would be more willing to volunteer information in his current relaxed state.

Peter shrugged. "Don' really wanna talk about it."

Tony leaned forward. "Peter," he said. "I think you need to be done keeping secrets."

"It doesn't matter," Peter said, shaking his head. "I don't need you to worry about me."

"Listen," Tony said. "I'm going to worry about you no matter what, and it's only going to be worse if you don't tell me because my imagination will write the story for me, so... please, Peter, just talk to me. That's all I've ever asked of you."

Peter was silent for a long time. He tilted his head upward to stare at the ceiling.

"The night before,” he said finally, “I was asleep on my mattress on the floor. I remember waking up suddenly because it felt like... like I got hit by a truck." He swallowed. "I thought I was dreaming, but... he was kicking me in the side."

Tony's blood ran cold.

"I guess... I think he heard sirens and thought that they were for him... that the police were coming for him… he just kept kicking me and yelling that I needed to pay for what I did. I managed to get to my feet and tried to tell him that I didn't call the police and that everything was fine. He punched me in the face..." Peter gritted his teeth. "When I was younger, I couldn't stand up to him. Now... I could have taken him down with one blow. I could have killed him. But then the police would come... they'd figure out who I was... I just had to sit there and take it."

Every muscle in Tony's body went rigid. "You said he never hit you before."

"I lied," Peter said limply. "After his wife died... it wasn't all the time, but it was enough. He never hit me in the face or anywhere easily visible... mostly, he'd just push me around or yell at me and try to scare me, especially when he was drunk. I learned to stay out of his way. It worked well enough as long as..." he swallowed. "As long as I didn't do anything wrong... but there was one time when I broke a plate while I was trying to do the dishes, and... it doesn't matter. I started staying at my friend Ned's house whenever I could. I got a job cleaning at a bodega around the corner, and I started buying my own food so that I could stay out as long as possible. Once I got bitten by that spider and everything changed, that whole part of my life became a lot easier to deal with. I could sneak in and out through the window whenever I wanted without him noticing. I just avoided him. It was fine."

"How long ago was that?" Tony asked. "The spider bite?"

"I don't know... around eight months ago," Peter replied.

"So you've been... for all that time, you were..." Tony buried his face in his hands. "Peter, you cannot go back to that place."

Peter's eyes welled up. "Where else am I supposed to go?"

"You're staying here."

Peter looked back at Tony. “How?”

Tony blinked incredulously. “What... do you think I don’t have the space?”

Peter shook his head, the tears now spilling. "I can't."

"Why not?" Tony asked. "Do you not feel safe here?"

"It..." Peter hiccuped. "It's too safe."

"You're going to have to help me understand that one, Pete," he said.

"I can't," Peter repeated helplessly.

"You can," Tony said. "But I can't tell you what to do. All I can do is remind you that you are welcome and protected here. I just... "

"Something bad will happen," Peter blurted.

Tony's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? What do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know," Peter said, "but something will happen to you. That's what always happens. I'm cursed."

"You're cursed?" Tony asked. "What's that supposed to me..."

The last syllable remained caught in Tony's throat as the realization seized a hold of him. He sat back in his chair, his jaw slackening. "You're talking about..."

"My parents died because of me," Peter cut in. "They wouldn't have been on the road when they were if they didn't have a kid to get home to. Uncle Ben was only on that ladder because he was doing work in my room. And then my foster mom..." Peter's eyes swam.

"Peter," Tony said, his chest tightening along with his grip on Peter's hand. "You cannot take responsibility for what happened to them. None of this was your fault. It..."

"And then I start working for you," Peter sniffed, "and within a few weeks, you almost get shot. It never ends. People around me just..." Peter turned his head away.

“I get it," Tony said quietly. “Every time you wind up with a family and some sense of stability, something shifts. Someone leaves. Someone dies. Someone hurts you.”

"I can't get close to people," Peter said swiping at his eyes. "I'm not going to let it happen again."

"No, Peter," Tony insisted, squeezing Peter's hand. "You cannot let yourself think like that. What happened to you, it's... it's awful. It's unthinkable. I'm not going to pretend to know what you're going through, but you have to know that what happened to your loved ones is not your fault. None of this is your fault. You are not cursed. You do not have to keep punishing yourself. Please, do not go back to that apartment."

"You have no reason to care," Peter said. "Just let me go."

"No, Peter," Tony said urgently. "For God's sake, just... allow yourself to feel safe. Open yourself up to the possibility that there are people in this world who care about you. Give yourself permission to accept their help."

"Shut up," Peter whispered.

"You think you're cursed," Tony pressed, undaunted. "Fuck. If you wouldn't have been at that conference yesterday, I would be dead by now. You saved me. Do you understand that? You saved me. You save lives every day. The only curse you carry is the one that tells you that you deserve any of the bullshit that people have put you through."

By this point, Peter had all but dissolved into a flood of tears, shielding his face with his hands.

Without giving it a second thought, Tony slid into the bed next to Peter and carefully slipped his arms around him. "You're okay, buddy," he said softly, holding Peter tightly as his battered body shook with silent sobs.

He allowed his own eyes to close. "You can let it out. You're safe here," he said, willing himself to believe it.

Peter continued to weep but gradually succumbed to the comfort of Tony’s embrace. By the time his breathing finally began to regulate, his body had gone heavy and limp. "I'm so tired," he whimpered.

"Just rest, Peter," Tony said, giving him another reassuring squeeze. "That's your only job right now."

Peter allowed his head to fall to Tony's chest. "Are you going to make me stay here?"

"I'm not going to make you do anything," Tony murmured. "Go to sleep. When you wake up, we'll see how well you're recovering, and then we can just... we'll take it one day at a time, okay?"

Peter inhaled deeply, then exhaled, sinking even more heavily into the mattress. "Okay," he murmured. "One day at a time. One day…”

Both of them were asleep before the end of Peter’s next breath.

Chapter Text

When Tony awoke several hours later, he was mildly disoriented but extremely relieved to see that Peter was still sound asleep and that the dark halo around his eye had faded to a pale turquoise. He slowly released his hold on Peter and gingerly slipped out of bed to avoid waking the sleeping patient. He quietly made his way back to his room to get properly dressed and have F.R.I.D.A.Y. bring him up to speed.

The vitals report turned out to be rather promising: Peter's blood pressure seemed stable, and his white cell count was normal. No sign of infection or any obvious distress. Very good.

Tony asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to let him know when Peter awakened, then headed off to find some coffee and some free advice. He found both in Pepper, who was rounding the corner of the hallway with a mug in each hand the moment that Tony stepped out of the room.

"Oh thank God," Tony breathed, reaching out toward her.

"For me or the coffee?" Pepper asked, raising an eyebrow as he handed one of the steaming mugs to Tony.

"Both," he replied, gratefully accepting the mug with one hand while slipping the other behind the small of her back. "I want to talk to you."

The walked down the hall to a nearby lounge and sat down at a small table. Tony told her everything that Peter had told him the night before about the previously unexplained bruises on his face and torso. Pepper listened with gritted teeth, trying not to cry as she envisioned the abuse that Peter had endured.

"So," she said, clearing her throat, "your suspicions were dead on."

"Regrettably," Tony said grimly, "but I'm trying not to react emotionally or make any rash decisions that are just going to hurt Peter in the long run."

"Well," Pepper said, "first of all, we cannot let him go back to that place."

"Exactly," Tony said, "but he wants to. I think he's afraid of what will happen if he doesn't go back. Or maybe there's something else I'm missing... I don't know. But I keep telling him that he should stay here, and he keeps insisting that he can't."

"Why do you think that is?" Pepper asks.

"He just..." Tony frowned. "He thinks he's cursed or something. He's internalized the idea that he is somehow responsible for the deaths of his parents, his uncle, and his foster mother. He said it feels 'too safe' here and that something bad will happen if he stays."

Pepper buried her face in her hands. "So he's got major attachment issues," she muttered. "He's not going to allow himself to get close to anybody because somebody always gets hurt."

"Yes," Tony sighed. "But maybe he'll feel differently today. He was all drugged-up and emotional, not to mention recovering from a gunshot wound. He may be more receptive to it if he feels better."

"It's definitely worth talking to him again," Pepper said, "but in the meantime, we should be calling CYPA."

"The... oh, the Child and Youth Protection Agency," Tony quietly. "But..."

"But what?" Pepper said. "If he's being abused, there's no question. We have to report it."

"Yes, but..." Tony thought for a moment. "We just... we have to do it right. Peter said that there's another child in the picture. This guy has a child from a previous marriage who lives out of state.

"Okay," Pepper said, her brow furrowing. "That is all the more reason to call right now. If he is, in fact, abusive, he should not have any unsupervised contact with Peter or his biological child."

"I know, and I agree," Tony said. "I don't care what happens to this scumbag. He can rot in prison for the rest of his life for all I care. But if this turns into a legal situation, Peter is going to know that it was us who made the report, and by extension, he will feel responsible for tearing apart the father and son. We may know that it's a necessary evil, but I don't think Peter will see it that way. It's going to send him down another spiral."

Pepper nodded slowly. "I see what you mean," she said. "In his mind, it will be just another bit of evidence that everything he touches turns to ash. But there's no reason for him to think that CYPA was called because of him. They should be doing regular check-ins on foster children. What if they just happen to be doing a wellness check, and they determine in the process that the home is not suitable for Peter?"

Tony squinted. "So are you suggesting that we encourage them to do a 'random' wellness check?"

"Essentially," Pepper said. "Reports can be placed anonymously. We can simply make a call to a caseworker saying that we are concerned citizens who happen to know Peter Parker and want to ensure that he is safe in his home. When they show up... best case scenario, it will be pretty obvious that the home is unsuitable, and they will simply remove Peter and place him with a new foster family. Worst case scenario, they won't find anything wrong, but they'll at least have the phoned-in tip on file. We can continue to work with Peter and determine the next steps from there."

Tony stared at her in awe. "You are the smartest person I know."

Pepper smiled back. "And you are the smartest person I've ever married."

Tony polished off the rest of his coffee. "Is there any chance that you can make that phone call?" he asked. "You're less likely to screw it up."

"Of course," she said. "I will go do that right now, and I will make sure that the number is not traceable."

"Love you for that," Tony said, pushing his chair back. "In the meantime, I'm going to go talk to Banner."

"You do that," she said. "I'll come find you right after."

The two of them headed down the hall in opposite directions. Moments later, F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted Tony that Peter was awake.

He picked up the pace as he headed back to Peter's room, only to find Bruce standing outside of the door.

"He just woke up," Tony said.

"I see that," Bruce said, peering through the window. "I was just looking at the vitals report. Everything looks promising."

"I know," Tony said. "I was surprised."

"I'm just going to pop in and give him a quick exam," Bruce said. "I want to check his arm, draw some blood, and chat with him about his pain levels."

"I'll wait out here," Tony said.

Tony waited patiently until Bruce reappeared ten minutes later.

"The wound looks excellent," Bruce said. "Truly astounding. If you can get him to consent, we should get him in the lab at some point to figure out what is going on with his biology. His healing capabilities are remarkable. He also says that he is virtually pain-free. Imagine that!"

Tony shook his head in disbelief. "This kid..."

"I'm just going to go run this sample," Bruce said, holding up a small vial of blood. "But he seems to be in high spirits if you want to go in and see him."

"Thanks, Banner," Tony said, nodding curtly as he stepped around him and opened the door.

Peter was sitting up in bed. He smiled shyly as Tony entered. "Hey, Mr. Stark." The boy was sickeningly pale but otherwise appeared to be in good shape.

"Good morning, Spider-God," Tony said with a smirk. "Rumour has it you heal like a mutant."

Peter ducked his head. "Something like that."

"You're looking good, kiddo," Tony said, stepping around to the side of the bed to look at Peter's arm. "You make it look like it's easy to get shot."

"I'm flattered," Peter said, reclining back down onto the pile of pillows, "but I really wouldn't recommend it."

Tony smiled sadly. "I figured as much," he said, "but it's all over now."

Peter tilted his head. "Does this mean that I can go home now?"

Tony bristled at that, but he chose his words very carefully. "Well," he said, "I did want to talk to you about that. See, I kind of destroyed your spidey suit."

Peter's eyes flickered. "Oh yeah," he said softly.

"So," Tony went on, "to make it up to you, I was of course going to make you a new one.

Peter perked back up again.

"As you may know, tactical gear design happens to be one of my specialties," Tony said. "I have access to top-of-the line materials, and we could outfit the suit with any features you'd like."

"Features?" Peter asked, "like what?"

"Well, in addition to the basics like web slingers, we could install a heater, communication system, mask defogger, GPS tracking, foot massager, soda fountain... honestly, the sky is the limit, Peter."

Peter's jaw slackened. "That sounds..." he hesitated. "Expensive."

Tony waved his hand. "That's not a concern," he said simply.

"It is to me," Peter said. "I can't accept that."

"We've already established that I owe you a new suit because I slashed up your old one when we were trying to fix you up," Tony said. "It's not your fault that I don't do simple. I'm Iron Man. If we're going to do this, we're going to get it right."

"I can pay you in installments," Peter said. "Or you can take it out of my paycheques. Or..."

"Stop worrying about the cost," Tony said dismissively. "You saved my life, remember? It's the least I could do. Pay it forward by continuing the good work that you do for this city."

"I will," Peter said, nodding emphatically. "You have my word. When can we get started on it?"

"Today, if you feel up to it!" Tony said, "But it will take some time to develop. We'll be going in in stages, starting with the general fit and then working piece by piece on the internal structures."

Peter nodded again. "Okay... that sounds good."

"Now," Tony proceeded with caution, "in order to do this as efficiently as possible, I'm going to invite you to stay here for the next week or so."

Peter's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Well, for one thing, Dr. Banner still wants to give you quick daily checkups," he said, "just to make sure that you are still recovering well from the gunshot. In terms of the suit design, I want to involve you in every stage of the process. It will be a lot easier if you are on site so that we can just pop in and out of the lab when it is convenient."

"I..." Peter seemed to be at a bit of a loss. "I feel like that would be weird."

"What's weird about it?" Tony asked.

"It's just... you're my boss. Or... you were my boss..."

"I am your boss," Tony corrected. “Your job didn’t go anywhere.”

“You still want me to work for you?” Peter said, brightening.

“Of course,” Tony replied, “if you still want the position.”

“I mean…” Peter said. “I love the lab.”

“Swell!" Tony said. "Then keep working in it! We can come up with a schedule that works for you when we get back to our regular work, but for right now, the focus will be on the development of the suit.”

“But then,” Peter said, “that’s weird… to be living at my boss’ house.”

"Then don't think of it that way," Tony. "There are plenty of companies that put their employees up in hotels when they require them to travel for work. I'm just putting you in a hotel that I happen to own. It will genuinely make everything a lot easier. We can pop in and out of the lab to work on the suit; Happy can drive you to and from school; and you can just study, relax, or do whatever you want to do on your free time."

"That sounds..." Peter mulled it over. "I guess that sounds okay. When am I allowed to leave?"

"You are allowed to leave whenever you want," Tony stressed, "but you are welcome to stay as long as you like. Deal?"

Peter nodded, extending his hand. "Deal."

Tony shook Peter's hand with a grin. "Excellent," he said. "Now, the first order of business is getting you some breakfast. You can't be a superhero with low blood sugar."

"Mr. Stark," F.R.I.D.A.Y. paged. Ms. Potts is requesting to speak to you about a company issue."

"I wonder what that's about," Tony said distantly, knowing full well that Pepper must have made the phone call to CYPA. "I'd better go find her. I'll have a staff member bring you some breakfast and some normal clothes to change into, and then we can set up your hotel room. Sound good?"

Peter nodded once more. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled. "Looking forward to it," he said, patting Peter on the shoulder before turning on his heel and heading upstairs to find Pepper.

********************************

Tony joined Pepper in her office, his heart sinking when he saw her mouth set in a firm line. "Oh God, what are they going to do?"

"Nothing," Pepper said darkly, "at least, not anytime soon."

"What are you talking about?" Tony said. "What did you tell them?"

Pepper folded her hands on the desk in front of her. "I told them that I was calling with an anonymous tip about a child in their care. They thanked me for my time and asked me what details I could provide. I claimed to be an acquaintance of Peter's who noticed some unexplained bruises and changes in behaviour and said that I highly recommended that they do a wellness check."

Tony twirled his hand impatiently. "And?"

"The receptionist said that she would forward my concern to his caseworker and that they would look into it, but it may be anywhere from three to six weeks before they can get out there."

Tony looked back at Pepper, bewildered. "Three to six weeks?" Tony exclaimed. "In what world is that acceptable? That's how they respond when one of their wards might be in danger?"

Pepper sighed, leaning back in her chair. "She explained that they are painfully understaffed and that have new intakes every day," she said. "They have to prioritize getting newly orphaned children into homes before they can process other requests, like wellness checks, which are then triaged based on level of urgency. And the waiting list is devastatingly long."

Tony gritted his teeth. "So the most vulnerable kids just have to wait it out unless someone can prove that their situation is more dire than someone else's?"

Pepper nodded solemnly. "It seems that way," she said. "The receptionist told me to call the police if I suspect that Peter is in imminent danger. I think that's what we're going to have to do today if we want this dealt with properly."

Tony was about to nod his head in agreement, but his eyes narrowed. "Hang on..." he said. "That... might not be such a great idea."

Pepper glanced up at Tony. "Why not?"

Tony chewed his lower lip. "Well, first of all, Peter will probably lose all trust in us. Having the police immediately involved may only traumatize him further. But also... they will most likely want to examine him if there are reports of physical abuse. If they do..."

Pepper inhaled sharply. "...they'll figure out that he's Spider-Man."

Tony nodded. "Precisely. Peter needs his anonymity to stay safe. If they figure out his identity..." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "No. We can't let that happen."

"You're right," Pepper said dimly. "We shouldn't involve the police unless we absolutely have to."

Tony fell silent for a minute, then straightened up. "The good news is that Peter has agreed to stay here for the time being."

Pepper brightened. "That's great news!" she said. "At the very least, we know that Peter will be safe. That's the most important thing right now. With any luck, we can work with him to determine the next steps."

"Hopefully," Tony said, "but we should look into bringing in a therapist for Peter before we begin pushing him with that stuff. All in good time, though. He has to be open to the idea."

"Agreed," Pepper said. "For right now, let's focus on making him feel as welcome as possible."

"I'm on it!" Tony declared.

**********************

By the end of the afternoon, Tony and Pepper had gotten Peter all set up in one of the spare bedrooms in the heart of the mansion. Tony informed Peter that he was welcome to use the library, the study, and the recreational facilities any time he felt like it without having to ask, and Pepper reminded him that he could eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted: all he had to do was ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. to place an order to the kitchen staff.

Peter thanked them profusely, but it was pretty clear that he was not going to feel right at home any time soon. He stayed in his room for the rest of the day, using the laptop that Tony lent him to contact Ned to help him get caught up on his schoolwork. The following day, he stayed in his room until Tony invited him to the lab so that they could get started on the preliminary stages of the suit design.

It didn't take long for Tony to notice one incredibly frustrating thing about Peter: he never asks for what he needs.

The first sign of this came when they began taking Peter's measurements for the suit. After a solid hour and a half of discussion in the lab, Tony had asked Peter to step into the scanner so that he could use a 3D computer model of Peter's body to help him with the design process. He asked Peter to hold a few different poses so that the scanner could get accurate measurements, but Peter could not seem to stand still. Tony assumed by the way that Peter kept squirming and shifting his weight from foot to foot that he needed to use the restroom.

"You know what, Pete, I think I need to recalibrate the scanner. Take five okay?"

Peter nodded gratefully, then quickly ducked out of the lab.

When he returned, Tony maintained absolute professionalism while gently reminding Peter that bathroom breaks were allowed at any time upon request. Peter kept his eyes averted, saying nothing as he returned to the scanner.

The second bit of evidence came the next day, which was when Peter returned to school. Tony had opted to wait for Peter in the driveway when Happy pulled up. Peter stepped out of the car with his ratty grey backpack, the same one that he had brought with him on his first day on the job. He definitely did not have that with him when Tony rescued him from the rooftop, but Tony didn't think much of it until he saw Peter stepping out of the bathroom later - post-shower - wearing a pair of plaid pyjama pants and a worn-out Star Wars t-shirt.

"Where did you get those clothes?" Tony asked casually.

"I... they were in my locker at school," Peter said, running his fingers through his damp hair. "Figured I'd bring them in to sleep in."

"You had pyjamas in your locker?" Tony said.

"Well... yeah," Peter said uncomfortably. "Just like... spare gym clothes, you know?"

"Peter," Tony said carefully, "did you go back to your apartment to get your backpack and clothes? You're not in trouble," he added quickly, "but did you?"

Peter hesitated, then nodded slowly. "On my lunch break," he said. "I just needed my backpack because it had my textbooks and my phone in it, and then I also grabbed some clothes while I was there."

"I ordered you clothes," Tony said, working harder than ever not to raise his voice. "And all of that other stuff was replaceable. You didn't have to go back there. Or, if you insisted upon it, Happy and I could have gone with you to make sure that you got everything safely. Why didn't you just ask?"

"My clothes, my stuff... none of that is your responsibility," Peter said simply.

"But I've offered," Tony said. "You can ask. You can ask for anything you need."

"I don't need anything," Peter said, tightening up his posture and tilting his chin upward. "I appreciate everything that you've done and continue to do, but I don't need anything from you."

"Just..." Tony's hands tightened into fists. "Just please don't go back there in secret, okay? No more secrets. We need safety and trust, and if you..."

"I get it," Peter said, averting his gaze again. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

Tony had plenty to say but knew that knew that further discussion would not yield anything positive, so he turned on his heel and walked away, allowing Peter to return to his room in peace.

The third example presented itself on Tuesday. Tony had arranged for Bruce to bring Peter down to the medical wing after school to perform a follow-up exam.

"He seems awfully tired and pale," Tony had said. "His arm looks healed, and he keeps saying that he feels fine, but... I don't know, something doesn't seem right. He looks sick."

After conducting the exam and running some quick bloodwork, Bruce reported back to Tony. "There's no sign of infection or any complications from the gunshot wound," he said, "but he's hypoglycemic. We have to get his blood sugar back up."

"His blood sugar?" Tony echoed in bewilderment. "Does Peter have diabetes?"

"No," Bruce said. "There are no issues with insulin production. I think he just needs to eat, honestly."

"No," Tony said, shaking his head. "He's been eating consistently. He's had breakfast and dinner with me and Pepper every day."

"I believe you," Bruce said, "but my suspicion is that this has something to do with his exceptionality."

"Meaning... his powers?" Tony asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yes," Bruce said. "I'm going to have to do some further testing to confirm it, but Peter's healing abilities would likely be correlated with high metabolism. His body seems to process nutrients at much higher rates than the average person."

"Then..." Tony mulled it over. "Wouldn't he be hungry all the time?"

Bruce returned to the exam room to speak to Peter in private, then reported the results back to Tony. Yes, Peter did notice a major increase in his appetite after the spider bite. Yes, he does need to eat more than twice as much as he used to in order to feel normal. Yes, he was presently quite hungry.

Tony immediately paged his kitchen staff to have them put together a meal for Peter and bring it to him in the examination room.

After giving him some time to eat, he went down to check in on him. Peter already seemed less lethargic than he had an hour previous, and the colour was already returning to his cheeks.

"You've been starving yourself for the past three days?" Tony blurted.

Peter looked up, startled. "I wasn't starving," Peter said. "I was fine."

"Your blood sugar dipped significantly," Tony said. "At that rate, you would have ended up dangerously hypoglycemic within a few days. Peter, I already told you that you can eat whatever you want whenever you want. You don't need to ask me."

"I know, I know," Peter said, "but... it's not your fault I eat a lot. Take it out of my paycheque."

"Stop," Tony said. "Don't even go there. I'm not taking anything out of your paycheque. We are happy to feed you no matter how much you need."

Peter turned his attention back to the plate of pasta in front of him, signalling that he was finished with this conversation.

Tony already knew that Peter was painfully stubborn and fiercely independent, but he couldn't understand why the kid had so much trouble accepting help. Hadn't they had a breakthrough when Peter allowed Tony to transport his wounded body back to the mansion? What on earth was his problem?

The final straw came when Peter and Tony returned to the lab to continue working on the suit design. Together, they had developed a new fleet of prototypical web-slinger formulas, and it was time to test them out.

In one corner of the facility, Tony was measuring the tensile strength of the webs using various weights, while Peter was testing their heat capacity. (They reasoned that having webs that could adhere to extremely hot surfaces would be tremendously advantageous if Peter were ever to rescue someone from a burning car or building.) Peter was firing the webs at a metal heating element suspended from a furnace.

"Anything promising so far?" Tony had called out.

"No," Peter lamented, firing another web at the tube and watching it dissolve. "They're all melting as soon as they hit the metal."

"Try a lower temperature to start," Tony called out. "Gradually increase it to see which ones..."

"Wait!" Peter suddenly exclaimed. "This one is sticking!"

Tony turned around. There was a thin, translucent strand of web extending from Peter wrist to the metal tube.

"That's great!" Tony said. "Now, you'll want to..."

Peter yanked back on the web, intending to pull it off of the element. However, it adhered so well that the force of the pull yanked the tube off of the furnace and sent it careening toward Peter. Instinctively, Peter raised his other arm to block the projectile, crying out in pain as the searing hot metal made contact with his skin, then clattered to the floor.

"Peter!" Tony shouted, rushing to his apprentice's side.

Peter pulled his arm in close to his chest. "I'm fine," he said hurriedly. "I'm sorry I broke the furnace. I'm so sorry..."

"Burn protocols," Tony said brusquely. "We need to run your arm under cool water."

Peter shook his head, shielding his injured arm from sight. "It doesn't hurt," he said, though his face was already flushed and tense with obvious pain. "It barely touched me."

"Not this again, Peter," Tony said firmly, but gently. "Let me see."

"I don't need any treatment," Peter choked, pulling away from Tony.

"I'll be the judge of that," Tony said. "Show me your arm, please."

"Mr. Stark, I promise you, it's fine," Peter said, his voice rising in pitch as he backed away.

"Stop walking backwards before you hurt yourself again," Tony sighed, steadily losing patience. "Come here."

"Just let me keep working," Peter pleaded. "I'll be fine."

"Kid," Tony said warningly, "I don't want to pull rank on you, but this is my lab, and as I have stressed many times, I am responsible for your safety while you are in it. If you get a burn, no matter how minor, you need to run it under cool water for at least two minutes, then see your supervisor (aka me) to determine whether or not treatment is needed. If you are not willing to cooperate, then you will not be allowed back in the lab. Make your choice now."

Peter's nostrils were flared, and his eyes were bright, but he finally obliged and allowed Tony to lead him over to a nearby sink. Tony carefully examined Peter's forearm as the cool water ran down, soothing the angry red skin.

"That's a second-degree burn, Peter," Tony said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"It will heal in no time," Peter insisted. "You know about my powers."

"I don't care about your powers," Tony said. "You..."

"I know you don't," Peter said bitterly.

"Let me finish," Tony said quietly. "I don't care what kind of powers you have: burns like this are painful and need to be treated, whether they will heal in a day or a month. You can't just ignore protocol."

"I didn't want to waste your time," Peter said desperately.

"Arguing wastes my time," Tony muttered.

"We wouldn't have to argue if you just listened to me," Peter hissed.

Tony gritted his teeth. "No disrespect to you," he said, still carefully gripping Peter's arm under the running water, "but it's you who needs to do the listening when you're in the lab."

"I don't need you looking after me," Peter spat. "You just keep treating me like a child."

"Dammit kid!" Tony cried. "Can you just accept some help for once in your goddamned life?"

Fuelled by a sudden burst of anger, Peter tore his arm away from Tony.

"Oh, no you don't," Tony said firmly, instinctively lunging forward and tightening his grip, involuntarily latching onto Peter's burn skin. Peter cried out in pain and swung his arm outward, throwing Tony against the ground. Hard.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to ignore the pain shooting up and down his left side. "Shit, Peter," he muttered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Peter whimpered.

Tony opened his eyes. Peter was rooted to his spot, shoulders heaving, staring down at Tony with wide, glistening eyes.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.," he repeated, his voice shaking. "Tell Dr. Banner to come to the lab. Mr. Stark is hurt."

"I'm not hurt, Peter," Tony said. "You need to..."

But Peter had already taken off running.

"Paging Doctor Banner now," F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied. "Forwarding vitals report for Tony Stark."

"I'm fine, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," Tony insisted, gritting his teeth as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. "Please track Peter's location and let me know if he attempts to leave. Tell him that I'm going to send Banner to examine his arm once he's finished this consult."

"I will forward this message," F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.

Tony pushed himself up off of the floor and was just dusting himself off when Bruce came running in.

"What happened?" the doctor panted, rushing to Tony's side. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. said you were hurt?"

"Peter is hurt," Tony said, wincing. "I'm fine. I just had a little fall."

"I'll examine you both," Bruce said. "Where is Peter?"

"Mr. Parker is in his bedroom," F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.

"Good," Tony said. "That's good. He's still in the building."

"What the hell did I miss?" Bruce asked incredulously, looking Tony up and down.

Knowing that Peter hadn't run away, he allowed Bruce to escort him to the medical wing and examine him.

"Nothing is broken," Bruce said, gently palpating Tony's ribcage. "And your vitals are normal. You'll have some pretty bruises for the next little while, but you're fine."

"Could have told you that," Tony sighed, tugging his shirt back down and sitting up on the examination table. "Please go take a look at Peter, would you? He's got some deep burns on his forearm, but he wouldn't let me treat them."

"I'm on it," Bruce said. He grabbed some dressings from the cabinets and headed upstairs to find Peter. Moments later, Pepper took his place in the examination room.

"What happened?" she asked, eyeing Tony with concern.

"I fucked up is what happened," Tony muttered. "I'm fine, Pep," he added, seeing the look on Pepper's face, "but Peter may never speak to me again. I hurt him, I scared him, he pushed me... my fault, not his... but he's going to think it's his fault. He's going to continue to believe that he's responsible for everything bad that happens to the people he cares about."

"You're speculating," Pepper said. "Spiralling, actually. But nonetheless... it probably is about time that we looked into getting Peter a therapist."

"He'd have to consent to it," Tony said. "He has a hard enough time accepting help as it is. The odds that he'll be willing to talk to a stranger... especially if he's trying to keep his identity a secret..."

"That's the least of our concerns," Pepper said, taking a seat next to Tony on the table. "I can draft up an airtight non-disclosure agreement. The focus needs to be on his mental wellness."

"I agree," Tony said. "I'll talk to him. I don't know if he'll listen, but... I'll try."

After taking a moment to collect himself, Tony headed upstairs with Pepper. He was approaching Peter's room just as Bruce was stepping out.

"How is it?" Tony asked expectantly.

Bruce closed the door behind him. "It looks painful," Bruce said, "but it is already starting to heal. I've dressed it lightly, just for protection, and given Peter some pain relievers. I told him I'd like to check it once a day, just to make sure that that it doesn't develop an infection. He agreed to this."

Tony nodded. "Okay," he said slowly. "This is good."

"He's pretty shaken right now," Bruce said. "I won't lie to you. But he's physically fine. Let me know if you need anything, as always."

Tony nodded again, then waited until Bruce disappeared around the corner before knocking gently on Peter's door.

"Peter?" he called out.

There was a heavy pause. "Come in," Peter said faintly.

Tony cautiously opened the door. Peter was sitting cross-legged on the bed. His arm was loosely wrapped in gauze.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," Peter said dimly.

"I'm the one who's sorry, Peter," Tony responded. "I didn't mean to grab your arm like that. It was an impulse. I'm so sorry I hurt you."

"I hurt you right back," Peter whispered.

"It was a reflex, Pete," Tony said. "It was to be expected."

"If we would have just..." Peter trailed off. Tony could almost hear the lump forming in his throat.

"You know what, Peter, I don't think that we'll do this conversation any justice if we have it tonight," Tony said. "Shall I give you your space?"

Peter nodded gratefully. "Y-yeah."

"I'll talk to you after school tomorrow, then?" Tony asked.

"After school," Peter affirmed.

"Okay," Tony said. "Please... let F.R.I.D.A.Y. know if you need anything. Good night, Peter."

********************

Tony spent most of the following day planning his next conversation with Peter. He had Pepper do some research on therapists and narrow the search down to those with outstanding reputations, then conduct some interviews over the phone. Knowing how data-oriented and analytical Peter was, Tony figured that having the information ready to present would make him far more receptive to the idea of therapy. By the time Happy left to pick up Peter from school, Tony had written an entire script in his head. He had to do this right.

He was just about to contact the kitchen to ask them to prepare Peter's after school snack when a phone call came in from the chauffeur.

"What's up, Happy?" Tony asked, putting his phone on speaker.

"Peter's not here," Happy said. "He always meets me in the same spot. I've been waiting for twenty minutes, and he's not answering his phone."

The blood drained from Tony's face.

"Stay there, Happy. I'm going to call the school. Maybe he's talking to one of his teachers or something."

"Okay, Boss," Happy said. "I hope he's all right!"

Tony didn't bother to respond to that. He swiftly ended the call with Happy and dialled the school's attendance office.

"Hello," he breathed when an enthusiastic-sounding secretary picked up. "This is Peter Parker's guardian. Could you please tell me if Peter Parker was in school today?"

"One moment, please!" she responded in a singsong voice. "Let me check."

After a few seconds, she said, "Parker, Peter... yes, he was present today!"

Tony relaxed. "Okay," he said. "Could you please..."

"Actually... hold on one second..." she said. "He was present for the first half of the day but has been marked 'absent' in his afternoon classes. Sorry for the confusion!"

"Absent..." Tony murmured. "Why would he have missed his afternoon classes?"

"I'm afraid I don't have the answer to that, sir!" she said cheerfully. "Is there anything else that I can help you with?"

Tony hung up abruptly, his heart racing. He frantically tried calling Peter, but the call went straight to voicemail.

If Peter had skipped out of his afternoon classes, he could be anywhere by now. And if his phone was off...

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.!" Tony shouted, "Peter has run away. Alert Pepper and the staff, then initiate search and rescue protocols. NOW."

Chapter Text

Torn between seething rage and frantic concern, Tony stormed off to fetch his nanotech armour. He attempted to call Peter along the way, but the call went straight to voicemail.

"Dammit!" he shouted.

He could not understand why Peter would do this. He had informed Peter multiple times that he could leave out of his own volition. He didn't have to run away, taking off without telling anybody and shutting off his phone. What the hell was wrong with him?

There was a chance that he had just gone back to the apartment, but then again... why would he leave in the middle of the school day if not to give himself a head start? He could be anywhere by now.

"Mr. Stark," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said suddenly, "Ms. Potts is forwarding a phone call for you. She says that it is urgent."

"Put it through," Tony said firmly, waiting with bated breath.

"Hello, Mr. Stark?" said a female voice. "This is Maxine Glass calling from the Child and Youth Protection Agency. How are you today?"

The Child and Youth Protection Agency?

...Fuck.

"Fine, thank you," Tony croaked. "How may I help you?"

"Sir, are you acquainted with a young man named Peter Parker?"

Tony felt as though his throat were on the verge of swelling shut. He swallowed thickly. "I am," he said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," the woman (Maxime was it?) responded. "I have him with me right now. We had to retrieve him from school today because of some complications within his household."

Tony leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. "Peter is with you," he repeated, steadying his voice as much as he could. "He's okay?"

"He is physically fine," she said reassuringly, "but he is a bit unsettled at the moment. He asked if we could call you on his behalf because his phone is dead."

"He asked for me?" Tony echoed, the colour slowly returning to his cheeks.

"Yes," she said. "Now, I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of this case over the phone, but if you'd like to come..."

"Yes, I'll be there, I'm on my way," Tony cut her off. "What is the address?"

After taking the information from the agent, Tony reiterated that he was on his way. "Tell Peter that I will be there as soon as possible, okay?" he said. "Do you have any snacks that you can give him?"

"Certainly," she responded. "We will look after him. Safe travels, Mr. Stark!"

Tony quickly disconnected the call. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.," he called. "Cancel search and rescue protocols. Tell Pepper that Peter is safe. Tell Happy to drive to the C.Y.P.A. building and that I will meet him there."

After retrieving the nanotech suit's carrying case from the safe in his bedroom, Tony suited up and took off from the adjacent balcony.

The GPS allowed Tony to take the quickest route to the C.Y.P.A. building. There was no way for him to land nearby without being seen, but he was past the point of caring. After his feet touched down in an adjacent parking lot, he collapsed the armour and returned it to its case, nodding matter-of-factly at a confused passerby who was on the way to her car. "Good afternoon," he said nonchalantly, gathering the briefcase and heading for the building's entrance.

He strode purposefully through the automatic doors. The lobby was uncomfortably cold in every sense of the word; the walls and floor were only slightly different shades of grey, and the air conditioning was rather excessive.

Shaking off the unease, Tony walked directly to the reception desk.

"Hello," he said breathily. "I'm looking for... someone... shit, what was her name... she was... I talked to her on the phone?"

A warm female voice floated through the frigid air: "You're looking for me, Mr. Stark." A tall, dark-skinned woman in a jade-coloured skirt suit who had just stepped off of the elevator was approaching the reception desk with a smile.

"I'm Maxine," she said, extending her hand.

"That was it," Tony said, smiling weakly. "I'm Tony Stark."

"Yes, I am aware," she said, her smile widening.

"Right... yeah, I guess," Tony said, tugging at his jacket and straightening up. "So... Peter Parker is here?"

"Yes, he is. Right this way, Mr. Stark." She gestured for Tony to follow her toward the elevator. "He's on the third floor."

Tony followed her into the elevator and watched as she pressed the "3" button.

"He's okay, right?" Tony asked anxiously. "You said he's okay?"

"He is okay, Mr. Stark, but he is visibly frightened. He will probably be comforted upon seeing a familiar face. I understand that you are Peter’s employer?”

“Yes,” Tony said, steadying himself as the elevator began to rise. “He is a student apprentice in my laboratory.”

She nodded. “Very good."

“Why is he scared?” Tony asked urgently. “What happened?”

“I don’t know how much you know about Peter’s family or personal life...” she began.

“I know that he is in foster care,” Tony said, “and that there has been tragedy in the family.”

“Right,” she said. “Well, he was living with a singular foster parent, and that parent was arrested today.”

Tony froze. “Arrested,” he repeated. “Did he hurt Peter?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “as far as we know. The arrest was not connected to child abuse. As I understand it, it was for an aggravated assault in public.”

“Oh...” Tony said dumbly. “So... not at home.”

“No,” she said. “I shouldn’t discuss the details of the allegations, but I can tell you that the arrest occurred while Peter was in school today. He was unaware of the incident. When we received the alert from the police that the gentleman in question had been detained, we sent a social worker to retrieve Peter from school.”

Gentleman.

“When was that?” Tony asked.

“At around 12:10 PM,” she said. “At that time, we let Peter know that his guardian had been taken into custody and that he would need to come back to the building with us.”

“What happens now?” Tony blurted. “Where will he go?”

The elevator doors opened, and Tony followed Maxine onto the third floor.

“We are looking into an alternate placement for him as we speak,” she said, leading Tony down a long hallway lined with silvery blue tiles. Tony picked up his pace, attempting keep up with Maxine's long strides.

“This will be a challenge," she went on, "as he does not have any family in the area. There is a long waiting list of children and youth waiting for foster homes. He may need to go into a group home or orphanage while we wait for a more stable placement to become available for him.”

“He can stay with me,” Tony said.

Maxine stopped short, apparently caught off-guard. “Well... that is a very generous offering Mr. Stark, but..."

"Please," Tony said, "It's no trouble at all. I have plenty of space for him."

She smiled. "I would imagine so, Mr. Stark," she said. "I'm well aware of your work and status. Given the circumstances, we may be able to arrange a temporary placement with you, but because he is a ward of the state and you are not a certified foster parent, there will be quite a bit of paperwork to fill out."

"I'll read and sign it all," Tony insisted. "Bring it to me."

She studied Tony's expression carefully, then nodded slowly. "Okay," she said. "For how long are you able to commit to housing him?"

"For as long as he needs," Tony said.

Maxine's mouth appeared to tighten as though she were concealing her skepticism, but she remained professional. "I will get the paperwork ready for you. Are you content to wait with Peter in the meantime?"

"Yes," Tony said, nodding emphatically.

"All right, then," she said, pointing in the direction that they had been heading. "He's just waiting down this way."

She lead him down the corridor past a row of offices until they came across one with a large window facing the hallway. Tony spotted Peter inside, sitting on a green plastic chair and staring ahead catatonically.

"He looks pale," Tony blurted. "Did he eat anything?"

Maxine shook her head. "We offered him a granola bar and a juice box, but he showed no interest. They are still in there for him."

She gently turned the knob and opened the door very slowly, as though she were trying to avoid startling the room's solitary occupant. "Peter?" she said brightly. "There is someone here to see you!"

She nodded at Tony, gesturing for him to go in. "I will be back as soon as possible," she said, turning on her heel and heading down the hall, her cream-coloured pumps clicking pleasantly with every step.

Tony peered through the doorway, feeling his heart sink immediately as Peter's eyes lifted to meet his. There wasn’t an ounce of colour in the boy's face. His eyes were wide and watery, his jaw slack.

“Peter,” Tony breathed, crossing the room in two strides and wrapping his arms around the terrified teenager.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered. “I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have had them call you... but, my phone was dead, and...”

“No, Peter,” Tony said firmly, rubbing Peter’s back. “You did the right thing. You did exactly what I’ve been begging you to do since the day I met you: you asked for what you needed, and I am immensely proud of you for that.”

He pulled back and looked Peter up and down. “Talk to me.”

“They arrested him,” Peter said numbly, his voice sounding as though it were from far away.

“I know, kiddo,” he said. “The nice social worker told me.”

“He’s in jail,” Peter said. “I don’t... I don’t know what happens now.”

“To him or to you?” Tony asked.

“Both,” said Peter, now beginning to tremble.

“You’re the priority right now,” Tony said, resting his hand on Peter's shoulder. “We’re going to get you taken care of, okay? One thing at a time, just like always.”

Peter visibly shrank in his spot.

"It will be okay, Peter," Tony said reassuringly, lowering his head to look Peter in the eye. "I promise you that."

"You don't know that," Peter whispered, turning his head away. "Don't promise anything."

At that moment, Maxine was returning to the room with a file folder in hand. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Stark,” she said, gesturing toward the chair beside Peter.

Tony obliged, subtly edging the chair closer to Peter as he sat down.

“We greatly appreciate you being here," Maxine said. "As I'm sure you can imagine, this is a challenging situation for everyone involved." She nodded in Peter's direction. "Peter," she said, "as we discussed earlier, we will not be bringing you back to live with Mr. Levinson. We do not know at this time how long he will remain in police custody, but even if he is released, we have deemed it unsafe for you to remain in his care."

Peter nodded solemnly.

"We are in the process of finding a new foster placement for you," she said, "but the waiting list is long. It is difficult to say how long it will take for a spot to become available."

Peter nodded again. "I know," he said quietly.

"Now," she said, "Mr. Stark has offered to take you in until we are able to secure a new placement for you. Would you be okay with staying with him?"

Peter looked up. "That's allowed?"

"Temporarily," she said. "It wouldn't be your new foster home, but we do have the ability to sign off on a temporary stay with a friend or family member. I know that Mr. Stark is your employer, but if you feel comfortable staying with him, this is something that can be arranged."

"Yeah," Peter breathed. "That... that's fine."

Tony could have cried.

"Wonderful," Maxine says. "The paperwork is all here for you, Mr. Stark. You'll want to read it carefully. There's the acknowledgement of responsibility, the code of conduct, the liability waiver, the..."

"I've got it," Tony said hastily, pulling his chair forward and accepting then pen and clipboard that Maxine handed him. "I'm a fast reader."

He skimmed through the seemingly endless sea of legalese upon each of the forms, silently wishing that he had Pepper with him while hastily scrawling his signature at the bottom of each page. As he waded through the word salad, a question nagged at him relentlessly. He knew that he had to ask, but he also knew that he didn't want to ask it in front of Peter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Peter shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes flickering around the room.

Suddenly inspired, Tony cleared his throat. "Just a heads up, Peter," he said casually, "the traffic is heavy at this hour. It might take us a while to get home, so it's probably a good idea to use the bathroom before we leave."

Maxine smiled and pointed in the direction of the doorway. "The restroom is right across the hall if you need it."

Peter nodded curtly and left the room.

"So," Tony said once Peter was out of earshot, "I understand that this is a temporary placement, but... is there a way for it to become... official? Could I be his foster parent?"

Maxine once again looked somewhat taken aback, but she regained composure in the blink of an eye. "At present, you are not a certified foster parent in the state of New York."

"I know, but... could I become one?" he asked earnestly.

"It's quite a process," she said. "You would need to fill out an application, and if it is accepted, you would need to attend an information session, complete pre-service training, undergo an assessment and background check, consent to a home inspection..."

"I understand," he said quickly. "I assume that there's a process involved, but... I would be allowed? There wouldn't be anything preventing me from doing so, provided that I do all of the training and meet all of the requirements?"

"I don't see why there would be anything directly preventing you from qualifying," she said, "unless there are any specific conflicts of interest that you can think of, but I must stress that this process is rigorous."

"I can handle it," Tony said firmly, signing the last of the papers and turning the clipboard over to Maxine.

"Your dedication is admirable, sir," she replied, accepting the clipboard from Tony. "But..."

"Respectfully," Tony said, "I'm not seeking praise for good intentions. I'm seeking to act. I care about this kid, and I have the resources to help him, so please let me."

"I apologize," Maxine said hurriedly. "I did not mean to be condescending in any way. I hope you can understand that it is my job to protect the children in my care, and a big part of that job is ensuring that all parties involved in the fostering process are fully informed."

"Yes," Tony said. "You're right... obviously... yes. I'm sorry."

Maxine leafed through the stack of papers ensuring that they had all been signed, then removed them all from the clipboard. She then clipped a different page into place and handed the board back to Tony. "Last form," she said, "the contact information form. If you put down a valid e-mail address, I will send you all of the information that you'll need if you'd like to proceed with the foster application."

Tony accepted the form with gratitude. "Thank you," he said, calming down considerably. "I appreciate your time and efforts."

"Likewise," she said. "Peter has not had an easy go of things. It is wonderful to see that he has a caring adult in his corner."

It's about damned time, Tony wanted to say. He wanted to say a lot of things. He wanted to demand to know how Peter had remained in that home for so long and how nobody was aware of the abuse and neglect taking place. He wanted to know how it was in any way acceptable for them to conduct a wellness check several weeks after receiving a tip about suspected danger. He wanted to question how their organization could continue to run like this.

Alas, he was well aware that berating this woman - who was evidently doing everything in her power to support Peter - was not going to help anyone, so he kept his mouth shut as he filled in the rest of his contact information. Peter was just returning to the room as Tony handed the form over to Maxine.

"Everything appears to be in order," she said, briefly skimming through the page. "Mr. Stark, do you have any questions for us at this time?"

"I don't believe so," Tony replied.

"What about you, Peter?" she asked, looking up at the exhausted teenager (who had opted to hover in the doorway rather than sitting back down). "Any questions or concerns?"

"How long will I stay at Mr. Stark's house?" he asked.

"That is hard to predict right now," she replied. "It could take anywhere from a few weeks to a few months for a new space to become available. However, if you are no longer comfortable there, or if Mr. Stark is unable to continue to house you, either of you can contact me directly to request that alternative arrangements be made."

"He can stay with me for a long as he needs," Tony said. "That will not change."

"Nonetheless," she said, "you both have my contact information. Please do not hesitate to reach out to me if there is anything that you need."

"Thank you, Ms. Glass," Peter said softly, retrieving his backpack from the table near the door and putting it on.

"Yes, thank you for your time," Tony said, extending his hand.

Maxine shook his hand firmly, flashing her million-dollar smile once more. "You are more than welcome, and you are free to take Peter home," she said. "Do you need us to arrange any transportation for you?"

"No thank you," Tony said, straightening up and collecting his briefcase before joining Peter in the doorway. "Our chauffeur should be waiting in the lot."

"Okay, then," she replied. "Take care, and we'll be in touch! Please, take some snacks for the road."

Tony grabbed a juice box, granola bar, and package of cookies from a basket near the door and handed them to Peter. "Let's go, Pete," Tony said, resting his hand on Peter's shoulder and leading him out of the room.

As they headed toward the elevator, Tony felt the tension in his body slowly beginning to melt away. Peter was coming home with him. For the time being, he was Peter's legal guardian. The thought should have terrified him, yet he felt nothing but relief. There was no option for Peter to go back to that godforsaken apartment with the foster parent from hell: that bastard was in police custody. There would be no secrets, no pretense... Peter would be safe in his care.

When they reached the elevator, Tony glanced over at Peter as he pressed the button. Peter didn't seem the least bit relieved. His eyes were still wide but vacant. His arms hung limply at his sides.

"You should eat the snacks, Peter," Tony said. "Put the color back in your cheeks."

Peter clasped the juice box in his left hand and the packaged snacks in his right, but he shook his head, saying nothing.

They entered the elevator and rode it silently to the ground floor.

Once the doors opened, Tony peered across the lobby and spotted a familiar car waiting outside with an even more familiar driver leaning against it.

"Look," he said, pointing. "Happy's waiting for us. We'll get you straight home okay?"

Peter stared blankly ahead.

Once outside, Happy perked up, opening the back door for Peter. "Good to see you there, sport!" he said cheerily. "I'm not going to lie... when you didn't show up after school, I was a little nervous. Well... a lot nervous. My head was spinning with all kinds of scenarios of..."

"Happy," Tony cautioned, lifting his hand in protest.

Happy clammed up. "Right," he said, bowing his head as Peter clambered into the car. "Front or back?" he asked Tony.

"Back," Tony said, sliding in next to Peter.

Happy closed the passenger door and headed around to the front of the car.

Tony looked at Peter sideways as Happy climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key.

"Peter," Tony said gently, "can you tell me what's going through your head right now?"

Peter shook his head, firmly avoiding Tony's gaze. He leaned back against his seat and stared out the window.

Tony followed suit, allowing himself a moment of quiet reflection.

He's just processing, Tony thought. He needs time. Give him time.

The remainder of their commute passed by in painful silence. Tony attempted to make good use of this time by formulating his next steps. They would still need to broach the subject of therapy with Peter, but maybe it would be a good idea to wait. Let Peter get settled, give him time to sort through his own emotions...

It was more than a little baffling to Tony that after all this time, Peter was still worried about his former foster father. Despite all that that terrible man had done, Peter didn't want anything bad happening to him.

It was just then that Tony remembered what Peter had said on the night that they talked on the balcony: "If he gets arrested, then that's it. That kid will grow up without a dad. I've already done enough damage... I can't let that happen."

Oh.

"Peter," Tony said suddenly, turning his gaze toward his fellow passenger. "I don't know what you're thinking about right now, but I just want to remind you that... that absolutely none of this is your fault."

"Shut up," Peter said quietly.

"No, Peter," Tony said. "I really, really need you to know that. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this."

"Not true," Peter said. "He rarely ever left the apartment. He probably left this morning to get food or something, but he was drunk, so he ended up picking a fight with somebody on the street. I could have gone out and gotten it for him so that he didn't need to go anywhere."

"If I had to hazard a guess," Tony said, "I would say it's more likely that he left to get booze. You wouldn't have been able to help him with that one."

"I could have stopped him," Peter repeated. "If I would have been home, I could have stopped him."

"It's not your responsibility, Peter," Tony said. "It has never been your job to parent him. Also, you need to stop calling that place 'home.'"

"Don't tell me what to do," Peter muttered.

"I'm not..." Tony balked. "I'm sorry... I'm not trying to tell you what to feel, I just... I don't want you to perseverate on this. You tend to torture yourself with things that are beyond your control."

"I don't want to talk about this right now," Peter asserted.

"That's fine," Tony said. "Just... please, Peter. Forgive yourself for leaving. Give yourself permission to take care of you."

Peter offered no response, staring intently out the window as they pulled into the mansion's lengthy driveway.

Once Happy parked, Tony heaved a sigh. They were home. Whether or not Peter would recognize it as home was another question...

He climbed out of the car first and waited patiently for Peter to follow.

"Come on, kiddo. Let's get you inside."

Peter slowly slid out of the car and rose to his feet, then plodded forward listlessly alongside Tony. He lifted his head, gazing across the expanse of the mansion, then halted abruptly in the middle of the lawn.

"Pete?" Tony asked.

Peter swayed slightly on the spot.

"I... think I'm gonna be sick..." he said feebly. He leaned forward, steadying himself with his hands pressed against his knees.

"Okay," Tony said, suddenly feeling rather unsteady on his own feet. "It's okay, buddy..."

"No," Peter protested, raising a hand in Tony's direction as he fought back an obvious wave of nausea. "Stay away."

"Dr. Banner is still on site," Tony said reassuringly. "I can call him."

"No," Peter groaned. "I don't need the doctor."

"Fine," Tony said, opening his briefcase and quickly donning the suit. He placed his armoured hand on Peter's shoulder. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., vitals report on Peter, please."

"Pulse: 150 bpm. Blood pressure: 130/75. Body temperature: 99.2 degrees Fahrenheit."

"No fever," Tony said, collapsing the suit, "but your pulse is absolutely racing. What's wrong, Peter?"

Peter said nothing, opting to keep his eyes closed and focus on his deep, laboured breathing. Once he was - presumably - confident that he would not be throwing up on the lawn, he straightened up, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Can I just be left alone, please?" he asked.

Tony inhaled slowly, dropping his hand from Peter's shoulder. "Yes," he said calmly, "you can be left alone." He turned toward Happy, who was peering cautiously over the roof of the car.

"Happy," he said, "would you please walk Peter inside?"

Happy nodded. "For sure, boss." He grabbed Peter's things from the backseat, locked the car, then walked around. "Come on, Spider-Man," he said. "You've had a long day." Patting Peter on the shoulder, he lead him into the house.

"Get him some water, would you?" Tony called out after him.

He watched dismally as Happy and Peter disappeared behind the front door. It was not at all surprising that Peter was stressed, given everything that had been thrown at him in one day, but there was something more... Tony couldn't put his finger on it, but there was evidently more on Peter's mind than the plight of his dirtbag former guardian.

Suddenly remembering his conversation with Maxine, he pulled out his phone and checked his e-mail inbox (which he had neglected for most of the day).

There it was...

From: Maxine Glass
Subject: Foster Application

Tony's pulse quickened. He could do this. He would have to talk to Pepper first, but... he could do this. He could go through the motions and potentially become Peter's official foster father.

...father.

He silently mouthed the word.

It felt...

...

It didn't matter.

He needed to talk to Pepper. And Peter. Mostly Pepper. Or mostly Peter? It wasn't worth broaching the conversation with Pepper if Peter wouldn't consent to it, but he certainly couldn't talk to Peter about this without Pepper confirming that it was even a possibility, and...

"Tony?"

His head snapped up. A rather comforting presence had appeared in the doorway.

"Pep," he said gratefully. "Can we talk?"

***************************

Tony stared across the table at Pepper, gobsmacked. He wasn't sure exactly what he had been expecting her to say, but he had certainly prepared himself for a far more challenging response than the one he got:

"Let's do it."

He sat motionless, inadvertently letting his spoon slip under the surface of the soup that had gone cold long ago. "That's it?" he asked incredulously.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?" Pepper asked, her mouth curling in amusement.

"No, I just..." Tony swallowed. "I had a whole speech prepared."

Pepper laughed. "You're welcome to tell me tonight. I could use a bedtime story," she said. "In the meantime, can you forward me the e-mail from the social worker? I can get started on the application. I'm assuming that we should fill out a joint one?"

"I... I guess? I don't know how that part works. I guess I should have read through everything first," he said. "But... before we do anything..." He hesitated.

Pepper tilted her head slightly. "What is it?"

Tony swallowed. "We... I should talk to Peter first. See if... if this is even something that he would want."

Pepper eyed Tony carefully. "You really think he would choose getting thrown back into the system over staying here?" she asked before taking a sip of water from her glass.

"I don't know," Tony said, burying his face in his hands. "I would think not, but... I don't know. Something doesn't seem right. And every time I think I know what's going on in his head, I'm wrong."

Pepper lowered her glass, then placed her hand over Tony's. "Talk to him, then," she said. "He's had some time to calm down."

"Okay," Tony said, nodding slowly. "Okay. Yeah, I should check on him anyway... he wasn't feeling well. Okay. I'll do that."

Riddled with anxiety, he made his way down the corridor to Peter's room. He paused in front of the door long enough to take a deep breath, then knocked gently.

"Peter?"

...

"...what?" Peter responded.

Tony swallowed. "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Come in," Peter replied dimly.

Tony opened the door slowly and peeked inside. Peter was lying on the bed on top of the covers, scrolling through his phone. He looked calm enough, but his face was sunken and pale.

"Did you eat anything?" Tony asked instinctively.

Peter shook his head.

"You have to eat something, buddy," Tony said.

"I'm not hungry."

"I know, but..." Tony sat down on the bed. "You know how it is. Your blood sugar is going to dip."

"Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?" Peter's eyes did not leave his phone screen.

"Not quite," Tony said. "I would appreciate it if you would look at me for the next part, though."

"I'd rather not," Peter mumbled.

"Can you at least put the phone down?"

"My ears still work."

Tony inhaled sharply. "Forgive my ignorance, Peter, but have I done something to offend you?"

Peter stiffened. He inhaled deeply, then placed his phone on his chest and folded his arms behind his head. "That was rude, the way I said it," he said. "I didn't mean it like that. I would just rather not make eye contact if that is okay."

Tony nodded slowly. "That's fine," he said, "but do you respect me enough to be honest about what's going through your head right now?"

Peter stared at the ceiling. "I shouldn't have called you."

Tony shook his head. "False," he said. "You did the right thing. We've been through this."

"It wasn't the right thing," Peter said. "I shouldn't have come back here."

"Peter, I really can't express how grateful I am that you had them call me," he said. "When Happy told me that you didn't show up after school, I was immediately thinking the worst, especially when my call to you went straight to voicemail. I thought you had run away. I was ready to send..."

"I thought about it," Peter said quietly.

Tony faltered. "You... what?"

"That was the plan," Peter said in a low voice. "Go back to the apartment after school to get my stuff, find a place for the night, then... I don't know. It wasn't the most well-thought-out plan in the world, but..."

"Why, Peter?" Tony asked, fighting to keep his volume low. "Why would you run away? Because of what happened yesterday? Can we just..."

"No," Peter, shook his head. "Not the lab thing, the burn... not that."

"Then what is it?" Tony asked defeatedly. "What is it Peter? I have been racking my brain trying to figure out why are you so resistant to staying here, but there's clearly something that I'm just not understanding. I know that you and I don't always see eye to eye, but we have been nothing but welcoming to you, and..."

"That's the point," Peter said softly.

Tony blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Peter draped an arm across his forehead. "You really don't get it, do you?"

Tony stared at Peter, shaking his head slowly. "Evidently, I really don't."

Peter remained silent for far longer than Tony could stand. When he was finally ready to speak, he slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position and dropped his head, speaking down into his lap.

"On my first day of work," Peter said, "when you found me in the shed and fixed my arm... in the storm, when you were..."

Tony could almost hear the lump forming in Peter's throat.

Peter gulped. "The way that you.." he continued. "You... I'd... I can't even remember the last time someone looked after me like that. You didn't know me, you didn't have any reason to care for me, but you were... you held me like a child. And I should have been embarrassed... I was embarrassed, but also terrified, and..." He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. "For those few minutes, I remembered what it was like to have a father."

Tony remained motionless, his eyes never drifting from Peter's face.

Peter went on. "But you didn't stop there. Time and time again, you were there... checking up on me, asking about my bruises, investigating my family, pushing me to tell my story... I told you to stay away from me, and you didn't."

"No, I didn't," Tony said under his breath.

"I thought I was officially done with you," Peter said, startling Tony by finally meeting his gaze. "I thought it was finally over. I would just go back to the way things were and take care of myself like I always did. Then, the next thing I know, you're picking me up off of a rooftop and carrying me across the city..." Peter bit his lip.

"Peter..." Tony said helplessly, his eyes bright.

"It wasn't your fault," Peter said, his eyes wide and glimmering. "Once again, I allowed myself to feel... for the first time since I lived with Uncle Ben and Aunt May... you were..." Peter tore his eyes away from Tony. "You were the closest thing I'd had to a parent. But you're not my father. You're my boss."

Tony's eyes were threatening to spill.

"I can't..." Peter shook his head. "It's stupid. It's so... fucking... stupid. Saying it out loud is just... I can't. I can't do it. You're my boss. I can't see you that way. It's not your fault. You were nothing but accommodating, and kind, and... I'm grateful for everything that you and Ms. Potts and Happy and everyone did for me. I'll be forever in your debt. I'm sorry for being so immature and impulsive and... so naïve."

Tony's head was spinning. "Wait... Peter, just..."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," Peter choked. "I'm sorry. For everything. For taking up so much of your time and energy. I don't want to do it anymore. I can't do it. I can't be here. I can't look at you and feel like you're... that I..."

"Peter..." Tony croaked.

Peter sniffed. Reluctantly, he looked up at Tony.

"I..." Tony clenched his hands into fists in an effort to keep them from shaking. "Stay, Peter. Please."

Peter shook his head firmly. "You're not hearing me."

"I am," Tony said firmly. "I am. I hear you, Peter. I do. I get it. But... just stay."

"I can't do it," Peter repeated through gritted teeth. "Every time you check on me, bandage my wounds, make sure I'm eating and drinking enough, buy me clothes, comfort me during a panic attack..." He shook his head, blinking back tears. "This is beyond humiliating. I can't keep seeing you as a parent. This isn't my home. You are not my father."

It can be, Peter, Tony thought. I can be.

Tony ached to tell him what he had learned today, that he could - in fact - become Peter's legal guardian in just seven steps. He yearned to tell Peter that he would never have to visit the frigid offices of the C.Y.P.A. again or face the turmoil of an abusive, neglectful guardian. He would no longer have to be a victim of a massively overwhelmed and underfunded system. The cycle could break today if he wanted it to.

And yet...

Tony knew that he couldn't yet promise anything. Their foster application wasn't even submitted, let alone approved. Even if the C.Y.P.A. accepted it, he would have to meet all of the requirements that Maxine had outlined, and even if he did, there was no guarantee that they would award him guardianship. There was so little that he had control over, and by God, he was not about to make a promise that he couldn't keep. Watching Peter's heart break before his own eyes, he made a promise to himself that he would not re-traumatise this boy by welcoming him home until he could be beyond certain that nobody could take it away from him.

"Peter," Tony began, clearing his throat. "I understand. More than you know. I know you don't believe me, but... I do." He took a deep breath. "That doesn't mean you have to leave. You're the..." He fought to steady his voice. "You're the best... employee... that I've ever had. I genuinely care about you, and... I don't want to lose you as an apprentice. If we continue to house you... we could set boundaries. If you want, we don't have to interact outside of the lab. I can keep my distance from you. Happy can keep bringing you to and from school, the kitchen staff can keep preparing your meals, but I can just... stay away. Would that make a difference?"

Peter stared at the mattress. "I... I don't know..."

Tony's eyes danced. "Would you be willing to try?"

Peter mulled it over, then shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

Tony nodded. “Okay then,” he said. “If that’s the case, i guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow in the lab. Unless you want the afternoon off?”

Peter shook his head. “No. I miss it.”

Tony smirked. “I figured as much.” He stood up to leave. “I’ll get out of your hair, Peter, but I just want to say… I know hard all of this is on you, but for what it’s worth, I’m really glad that you are here. Your wellbeing is the number one priority. Remember that.”

Peter nodded mechanically, then turned his head away.

Tony headed over to the door, pausing with his hand upon the doorknob. “I’m going to have someone from the kitchen bring you your dinner,” he said. “Please eat something.”

Peter flopped back down onto the bed. “No parenting, remember?” he said. “Boundaries.”

Tony turned the knob. “Right,” he murmured. “Boundaries. Good night, Peter.”

He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him, then immediately pulled his phone from his pocket.

Pep, he typed. How soon can we submit that application?