Chapter Text
Standing to the side of the shopping mall entrance, Peter bounced on his heels, craning his neck every other minute as he looked out into the parking lot, waiting to spot a familiar car.
During a lull in traffic he checked his phone, but the last texts were still from Ned that morning, informing him he had a fever and his mom refused to let him go to school—which meant he wouldn’t be joining him in the afternoon either.
Peter’s stomach had dropped as fast as his confidence at the news. When he had volunteered to chaperone Morgan and a friend at the mall he had been riding a high after an evening of babysitting her—all on his own, without incident. But after he had committed to the outing all his usual insecurities had returned in force, and been eating at him the entire week.
Though Ned had no more experience than he did handling children, it had been comforting to know they could figure it out together. But a virus had laid waste to their plans, and now Peter was on his own.
When he had tried to convince MJ to come she had said nothing, but given him A Look that Peter had become familiar enough with by now to know meant no way in hell.
He scraped his thumbnail down the ribbed backpack strap in a repetitive motion, mentally planning his route for patrol that night—he had his suit and web shooters tucked in his backpack alongside his school notebooks, and two packs of gummy bears for a snack, with the orange ones already picked out.
Despite being on the lookout, Peter startled when he finally recognised the next car turning into the parking lot. His right hand shot up on reflex to give a small wave, while he clutched at the strap of his backpack with the other, his grip going sticky from nerves.
“Come on, Spider-man. You can do this, Peter,” he muttered to himself, squaring his shoulders as he stepped out to meet the car.
Unfortunately he knew all too well that his superpowers did not translate to any greater ease navigating the world—and certainly not places like shopping malls, which had always been… tricky for him. Peter had burst into tears going shopping more times than May could remember, until she had learned to streamline the process.
Pulling up in front of him but keeping the engine idling, Happy lowered the window while the girls scrambled out amid excitable chatter. Elena was wearing a shirt with a reversible sequinned design, and it made Peter’s teeth itch to see it stuck in between a color change.
“Got everything?” he called to them. “You leave it, you lose it.”
“Aren’t you picking them up later?” Peter asked over Morgan’s head as she inspected his tee shirt, which sported a math joke involving a Velociraptor. Over the summer Morgan had started taking offense whenever she couldn’t understand the puns on his T-shirts, and would have no one but Tony explain after Peter had tried a few times—and failed spectacularly; he had a hard time simplifying the science or math into something she could understand.
Twisting in his seat to check the back of the car, Happy ignored him. He pointed out a hair clip that had fallen on the floor to Morgan’s friend, Elena. “That was this close to ending up in the trash.” Once satisfied there was nothing out of place, he turned back to Peter. “You sure you can handle this?” he asked, looking him straight in the eye.
Peter snapped to attention, eyes going round. “I—”
Happy cut him off. “It’s too late to back down now, so, you better.”
His stomach roiling with nerves, Peter nodded dumbly.
“If anything happens—”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” he argued feebly.
“Ha! Do you know how often I’ve heard that from Tony?” Shaking his head, he flicked the car air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror, making Peter wrinkle his nose at the waft of too strong scent of Tropical Cocktail. “When something happens, and this is the important part: don’t call me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Peter repeated, stepping backwards onto the sidewalk when Happy shooed him away from the car with a wag of his fingers.
“Morgan. Morgan’s friend,” Happy barked, and the girls stopped talking just long enough to receive his instructions: “Be good.”
“Yes, Happy!” Morgan and Elena chorused.
Then, baring his teeth in what could have been a grin at Peter, Happy slipped on his sunglasses and positioned himself at the wheel. “Have fun!”
“Bye—” Peter stretched the word out as Happy drove off abruptly.
Swallowing the sudden nervous lump in his throat, he turned around to face the girls, who were arm in arm, giggling.
For a moment it reminded him a bit too much of being laughed at in school when he was little, and Peter had to force a grin, his face hot.
“We are going to have fun, right?”
“Yeah!” Morgan answered obligingly, though what was meant to be a rallying cry had kind of turned into a question toward the end.
Peter’s grin widened into something genuine, and he pulled himself together—Morgan and Elena were both good girls, and he was practically an adult—as he kept reminding everyone—he could do this.
“Did you have a good day at school?” he asked them, directing them toward the mall entrance.
“Mhm. We made sound with rubber bands,” Morgan informed him—she had several different colored ones on her wrists still, and a bit of fruit roll-up between two teeth, Peter noticed. “And stuff. Beans!”
“Plastic bottles and sticks,” Elena supplied, miming playing the drums.
“Sounds like fun,” Peter said honestly. He had always enjoyed rhythm activities in school, and though Spider-man was a better use of his time, without question, he rather missed band sometimes. “Hey. You haven’t played me anything on the violin in a while, Lady Morgana.”
Morgan puffed out her cheeks. “Violin is boring. I want to play the drums like Elena.”
Peter grimaced. “Uh… you’ll have to talk to your mom and dad about that.” Eager to change the subject, he hurried toward the nearest sample stand. “Want some cheese?”
The girls both wrinkled their noses almost identically, which made him smile.
“Cheese stinks!” Elena declared then, however, sending them both into hysterics while Peter stared, uncomprehending. It was inoffensive cheese cubes that were on offer—they barely even smelled of cheese and tasted bland.
“It’s good,” he said, popping a cheese cube into his mouth as an apology to the salesperson at the stand, who assured him it was fine with a thin smile.
Unconvinced, the girls raced on ahead to the fountain in the middle of the floor, babbling about turtles. Peter followed, checking the time on his watch.
“The exhibition opens in twenty minutes.” He watched with a wary eye as Morgan and Elena both leaned over the railing, pretending to be explorers. “What do you want to do?”
“Get milkshakes!” Elena answered at once.
“Yes!” Morgan agreed, twisting around on the railing. Peter tensed when her sneakers slipped on the metal, but she regained her footing easily.
“I’m not sure we have time,” he said. The milkshake shack was on the other side of the mall, and bound to be busy.
“What’d you ask for then?” Morgan clucked her tongue at him, before breaking into an impish grin, which both Pepper and Tony had remarked on with a mixture of fondness and exasperation on more than one occasion.
“Why don’t we do that later?” he offered. “After the exhibition you can have anything you want.”
“OK. Can we go there now?” she asked, pointing at a small store across from them, full of colorful accessories.
“Yeah, sure.”
Peter hung back while the girls looked at all the earrings and hair ties, excitedly pointing out their favorites to each other; and cooed over plush pens and sequinned bags.
Though he restrained himself from fingering the tassel drop earrings, he couldn’t resist petting a furry lock diary and feeling out its pointy felt eyelashes.
His head whipped around in alarm at sudden loud, twin gasps.
“Look, Peter!” Morgan ran over to him. “It’s perfect for me and Elena! Isn’t it?” He dutifully inspected the set of pendant necklaces, with two puzzle pieces that fit into each other, meant for best friends to wear. “I want it. Can we get it, please? Please?”
A necklace was outside the expenses Pepper had accounted for and insisted on covering: the exhibition tickets and something to eat. He looked at the price on the back, then at Morgan, gazing up at him hopefully, on her tiptoes in anticipation.
“Can we? Please, Pete?” she asked.
“Sure, Maguna.”
Their ecstatic squealing made him smile, and he felt like he was doing something right when they both asked him help them put the necklaces on as soon as the cashier rang them up.
Morgan giving him a tight hug after embracing Elena confirmed it had been the right decision.
Morgan’s gratitude did not stop her from turning a deaf ear to Peter telling her not to race Elena up the escalators to the third floor, where the exhibit was located. Nonetheless, they both apologized afterwards and waited in line without complaining, so Peter thought it was OK.
The dinosaur exhibition had been Peter’s idea. Morgan had wanted to go to the shopping mall—not all that surprising since so many of her dolls seemed to spend most of their time shopping. All the same, he had imagined it might get boring, not just for him but for them too… which was where the exhibit came in: animatronic replicas of dinosaurs to scale. The mall hosting it was a little farther out, but Tony and Pepper had agreed at once.
Peter’s dinosaur phase had been short, before his parents died—his fifth birthday party had been dinosaur themed—but he thought he could still entertain Morgan and her friend with some facts to complement the information panels in the exhibit.
Once inside, he gravitated immediately to the Brontosaurus—always his favorite—and dragged the girls with him, stumbling over his words in his rush to tell them about it. When he drifted into a tangent about metabolism and mechanics, explaining theories about its locomotion and physiology, Elena made a loud, irritated noise. “I don’t understand what you’re saying!” she burst out in close to a shout.
Peter faltered, glancing at Morgan who he noticed had been folding a brochure into a fortune teller.
“Morgan, tell him,” Elena whined.
Morgan grimaced. “Daddy said I had to wait until Pete's finished talking…” she answered in a mumble.
“But he goes on forever and ever!” Elena moaned, which made Morgan laugh.
She bent toward her friend to whisper in her ear, “Sometimes I just ignore him.” Even without his enhanced hearing, there was no mistaking her miming falling asleep, to Elena’s evident amusement.
Peter flushed with embarrassment, his throat tightening in spite of himself. Morgan and her friend were seven, and he knew they were just being children, but it still hurt. He watched them skip over to an interactive section of the exhibit where some other children were playing, though Morgan seemed more preoccupied with her fortune teller than anything else.
“I’m afraid dinosaur energetics might be a little above their pay grade.”
Eyes burning, Peter turned to the source of the voice: a kind looking middle aged man pushing an empty stroller. “Sorry?”
“The theories you were explaining are advanced even for many of your age mates,” he clarified pleasantly, flashing a grin as he made out the pun on Peter’s shirt. “But I quite enjoyed the lecture. You know your stuff, young man.”
Peter shook his head with a weak smile. “I haven’t read anything in years. I just really liked Brontosaurus.”
The man chuckled. “One of my favorites as well. I get the same response from some of my college students sometimes,” he added, following Peter’s gaze. “So don’t take it too personally.”
“Thanks.” Peter feared it was at least a little personal, but he appreciated the man’s kindness.
They were joined by another man, with a toddler on his hip and a baby changing bag slung over his shoulder. “We’re ready for more dinosaurs, Papa.”
Smiling at his companion, the man bopped the toddler on the nose before taking him in his arms to continue the walk round.
While Peter had no real memories of his father, he remembered touring the Smithsonian perched on Uncle Ben’s shoulders, feeling safe and grounded. Alongside that memory, however, came unbidden one of Skip, giving him a piggyback ride around the apartment.
“No. Stop it,” he whispered to himself, looking up at the Stegosaurus, hands curled into fists. “Herbivorous. From the Late Jurassic. So many theories about the plates…”
To the stubborn knot in his stomach was soon added the headache caused by the continuous electronic roaring, as well as the noise and smell of the crowd. Peter wished he could step outside for a moment, maybe do a few laps around the building as fast as he could go and then crawl up to the roof where there was only the sound of the wind and the drone of the ventilation system, the distant traffic almost soothing.
He thought it best to keep his distance from Morgan and her friend as they explored the exhibition—whenever he caught her eye she would pretend not to see him. But he didn’t let them out of his line of sight.
Filing into the makeshift auditorium for the interactive documentary film, he signalled Morgan for them to take a seat up toward the front where he could see them, while he sat to a side.
As people quieted down and the lights went down, some of the tension eased from Peter’s shoulders. Focusing on the screen he managed to tune out the man with the summer cold clearing his throat, the strong perfume of a woman in the row behind him. Sitting with his legs crossed, he tugged at his shoe laces in a repetitive motion, and even allowed himself to rock a little since the room was in gloom and everyone’s attention on the film.
He was reading the rolling credits, making note of the strangest sounding names as usual, when someone shook his shoulder, making him jump.
“Peter!”
Morgan was standing next to him, and they were the only ones left in the room aside from one older couple and an exhibit employee keeping watch—he had totally zoned out.
Peter pushed himself to his feet, reaching out automatically to fix Morgan’s headband. “Where’s Elena?”
“Outside.” Morgan batted his hand away and readjusted the headband impatiently. “Let’s go.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer?” he asked, squinting as they stepped out. “I don’t think we saw—”
“No. I’m bored.” Morgan tugged at his hand hard. “And I’m hungry. Peter. Let’s go. Please.”
“Elena, did you want to see anything else?”
She gave an emphatic shake of her head that sent her braid swinging, without looking at him—too busy glaring at the same group of children she and Morgan had been playing with earlier, who were huddled around the Velociraptors, making faces at them and laughing.
“Did something happen?” Peter asked with a worried frown.
“No!” Morgan stomped her foot. “Let’s go!”
“OK. OK, we’re going.”
She didn’t stop pouting even as they went down to the second level on the escalator, and looked closer to tears than laughter when Peter tripped on his untied shoelaces.
“You want to get something to eat then?” he asked them as he tied his shoelaces, wondering what the hell he had missed with those kids.
He didn’t get more than shrugs in response, and ‘I guess so’s so he took them to the milkshake shack, where they perked up again, to his immense relief.
They agreed on milkshakes and fries, and Peter conceded to one waffle to share when Elena started complaining about how he had lied when he’d promised they could have anything they wanted.
Elena was nicer once she had some food in her, and Peter wondered if maybe she really hadn’t just been hungry—he felt better after eating too. And Morgan was back to normal as well, requesting impressions which made her burst into laughter as usual.
He folded up a napkin as small as he could make it while the girls finished their milkshakes and discussed what to do next, finally settling on the toy store.
The three of them looked at the puzzles and LEGOs together, but when Morgan and Elena pressed on ahead to the next aisle, eager to explore on their own, he let them. There was no way they could leave the store without him seeing.
What Peter hadn’t thought of was them coming back with their arms laden with toys: a set of sparkling, light up tiaras studded with fake gems, enough animal figurines for a zoo, and a brand new set of the laser guns from Morgan’s favorite TV show. “Look, Pete. Can we get these, please?”
Peter hated saying no to Morgan, but this was definitely a no. “Sorry, Morgan, but we would need to ask your mom and dad.”
“Won’t you buy it for me, please? For my birthday.”
“Your birthday was five months ago,” he countered with a laugh.
“For Christmas?”
“It’s a bit early for that, isn't it?”
“Peter.” Her chin wobbled, and in spite of himself, Peter had a look at the prices—just in case. “Sorry, Maguna, I really can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Why not? Don’t you love me?”
“Morgan…” He tapped at the new necklace around her neck. “That was all the money I had, Lady Morgana. This is too much.”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is.”
“Says who?
“I’m sorry. But no,” he said finally, firmly—like May and Tony had coached him.
“It’s OK, Mo. We’ll put it back,” Elena piped up, taking the box of laser guns from Peter.
“Thank you,” he said, heartfelt. He had no idea how to handle Morgan in a fit of temper—and it turned out a couple hours at the mall was far more tiring than taking down criminals all night.
A sound of relief escaped him when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, certain it was Ned.
How’s it going, dude?
I’m not sure, he answered truthfully. Not great, I think. But could be worse, maybe?
That means OK! Relax. You can do this.
Thanks, man.
After getting an update on Ned’s health—he was feeling much better—Peter went in search of Morgan and her friend. He found them with their heads together in intense, whispered conversation.
“Don't worry—” Elena fell silent when Morgan, catching sight of Peter, elbowed her side.
Peter approached them with raised eyebrows. “Everything OK?”
“You have a bugger,” Elena informed him promptly.
“Oh, sh—Sorry.” Fumbling for a tissue in his pocket, he wiped his nose.
“Still there.”
When he tried to blow his nose, both girls started shouting: “Eww! Don’t do it here!”
“Alright, alright!” Peter might have teased Morgan that not so long ago she had picked her nose in public—and worse—but in order to avoid a fuss he was content to choose the path of least resistance. “Let me just…go to the restroom for a second…?”
Morgan gave an approving nod. “I’ll hold your backpack,” she offered, holding out her hands expectantly.
Peter hesitated but then handed it over, desperate to keep her in a good mood. “Thanks. Be careful with it, yeah?” The restroom was right across the hall, in direct sight of the toy store. “And don’t move from here, OK? I’m serious.”
“OK,” she replied, dragging out the word impatiently.
“We won’t,” Elena assured him with a bright smile.
Peter kept looking over his shoulder until he was inside the bathroom. When he checked his nose in the mirror, it was clean, but he took a moment to blow it and wash his hands anyway. Though he had been confident the girls would be safe, his stomach still swooped in relief seeing them standing where he had left them. Morgan even hugging his backpack to his chest, obviously keeping it safe. Ned was right, he could do this.
“Should we move on? Or do you girls need to use the restroom?” he asked, taking his backpack back and shrugging it on, reassured by the familiar weight.
Morgan shook her head. “We went before already.”
“Right. So, where next?”
“The pet store!” Elena replied, and Morgan backed her up, nodding eagerly.
“Great idea.” Peter recalled the map he had glanced at earlier. “It was next to the jewellery store, I think? I don’t think they sell puppies anymore, but they might have bunnies. And turtles,” he added, remembering the girls prattling about turtles in the fountain when they arrived.
“Elena has a pet hamster,” Morgan told him as they headed out.
“Oh yeah? What’s it call—” As Peter crossed the store security gates this time, the anti-theft alarm went off. The sound was piercingly loud with his enhanced hearing, and he jumped, hands flying to his ears.
A store employee approached, palms together with a smile plastered on her face. “Hi. Sorry, sir? Sir?”
Slowly lowering his arms, Peter squinted up at her when the alarm fell silent, blinking the negative of the flashing red light from his vision.
“Can I see your backpack, please?”
His hands dropped to hold onto the backpack straps as his stomach went tight with anxiety. “Um. No, thank you.” Not with his Spider-man suit and web shooters inside.
“Excuse me?”
“I’d just… rather not. I didn’t take anything.”
The alarm blared again when he instinctively took a step outside the store again. Shoulders hunched against the noise and the light, Peter cursed under his breath. There was a reason he had special lenses and adjustments in his mask.
“Then there should be no problem with me checking your bag, should there?”
“No—Just—I’ll do it, OK?” he stammered out as he slipped his backpack off his shoulders, his face hot with embarrassment.
She immediately made a grab for the bag. “It’s protocol that a member of staff perform the search—”
“No!” Peter pulled back too hard and she stumbled back with a gasp, thrown off balance. “I’m sorry! So sorry—”
“Carl!”
Carl turned out to be mall security, sprinting over from across the hall when the employee beckoned him over, shouting his name again. “Is there a problem?” he demanded, one hand on his baton. “Anna?”
Anna crossed her arms over her chest, gesturing at Peter with her chin. “He won’t give up the backpack. Pushed me to keep me from taking it.”
“I didn’t push you—I didn’t push her, sir—it was an accident, honest.”
“Kid, you’re caught. Give it up.” Carl motioned for Peter to hand him the backpack. “You’re just making it worse for yourself.”
“But I didn’t t-take anything. If you’d just—”
“Fine. Let’s see it then.” Turning to Anna he shook his head dismissively. “Let him do it. He won’t be able to hide anything either way.”
Breath coming too fast, Peter set the backpack between his feet and opened it carefully, peering inside. He froze when he saw a familiar pair of tiaras on top of his books. Sticking his hand in deep inside he found a handful of the animal figurines crammed in as well.
Dumbfounded, he glanced up at Morgan and Elena, but they both avoided his eyes. He turned to the security guard, who raised his eyebrows as high as they would go.
“Well look at that.”
“I didn’t—”
“Sure you didn’t.”
“I’ll take that.” Anna snatched up the tiara Peter held up for her automatically, but the second one snapped in his hand, his nervous grip too tight for the cheap plastic.
“Oh my god, what is wrong with you?” she shrilled. “You’ll need to pay for that now, you know!”
“Crap. I’m sorry.” His voice broke when he hurried to close his backpack and straighten up again, and pulled the zipper too hard, detaching the pull tag. “It was an accident!”
His eyes fell on Morgan, chin to her chest, bottom lip between her teeth, and Elena, round eyed beside her—he had no idea how he was going to explain this to Mr Stark, and Miss Potts.
“I get it, kid. You wanted to get your sisters a present, that’s sweet. But it’s not how the world works.” Prising the broken tiara from his hand, Carl clapped him on the shoulder, making him flinch. “Now you gotta deal with the fallout. Let that be a lesson for them too.”
“I didn’t take anything!” Peter exploded in spite of himself, bursting with frustration, unable to stop himself from shouting. “If you would just listen to me!”
“Alright, that’s enough. Here I am, playing nice, and you’re giving me attitude? I’m done. You’re coming with me.”
“What?” Peter swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “You can’t.”
“I sure can. You’re a minor, right? I’m calling your parents. And if you keep this up, I’ll just go ahead and call the police, capiche?”
Anna gave a short laugh, shaking her head. “Carl, get out of here before he throws up and I have to mop it up. Thanks for your help.”
Carl marched Peter and the girls down to the first floor, past the fountain and the pet store. Leading them through a side door and down a short hall, he ushered them into a small lounge room.
“Let’s have it then. Who’s it going to be, mom or dad?” Carl said when they were all seated on a worn couch and he had pulled up a chair in front of Peter.
In a daze, Peter dragged his gaze from the pattern of scuff marks on the hard floor to glance at Carl. “Sorry, what?”
Carl stared at him with a small frown, eyes flicking down to where Peter was fidgeting with the zipper pull tag, turning it over and over.
Peter stopped at once, closing his hand into a fist around the pull tag, though he kept rubbing the edge with his thumb. “What… what’s the question?”
“Phone. Number. I need to call your parents.”
“My parents are dead. I live with my aunt and uncle,” he blurted without thinking, parroting the response he had given for years. His breath hitched and sped up again, even as he fought to bring himself under control. “I mean—I-it’s just my aunt now.”
Groaning, Carl leaned back in his chair. “Are you having me on, or is there something seriously wrong with you? Christ.”
“He’s always like that, isn’t he, Morgan?” Elena said in a hushed voice.
And Peter just… could not do it anymore. He squeezed his burning eyes shut for a moment, his head pounding in time with his rapid heartbeat, before fumbling for his phone in his pocket. Happy had said not to call, but it felt like a better alternative than bothering May at work. The mere thought of Mr Stark getting this call made bile rise to the back of his throat.
He scrubbed his wet eyes with the back of one hand as he scrolled to find Happy’s number, but his breathing betrayed his suppressed tears.
“Jesus, kid. Calm down,” Carl said in a low voice. “You’re embarrassing yourself. What’s your aunt’s name?”
Peter shook his head, phone to his ear, waiting for Happy to pick up.
“I knew it,” Happy said at once when the call connected. “What happened?”
“Happy.” To his mortification the word came out half a sob.
“What is it? Peter?” he pressed. “Are you and Morgan safe?”
“Yes—” Peter replied, sniffling. But he couldn’t get anything else out.
Whimpering, he pressed the heels of his palms to his forehead, though he could still hear Happy firing questions at him. He just needed a minute.
He let Carl pry the phone out of his slack grip.
“Just let me talk to this Happy.”
The short exchange was surprisingly quiet and civil on either side. Peter did not quite register the words, although he could hear them.
He couldn’t believe everything had gone so wrong; didn’t understand how—except he was no stranger to messing up.
Carl offered them all chewing gum while they waited for Happy to arrive, but Peter ignored him. He held himself still in the same position, blocking out as much of the world as he could. Really he was afraid if he moved he would break down completely.
After a short while Carl’s pager beeped and he left them alone. Peter followed the sound of his footsteps down to the end of the hall; caught the familiar cadence of Happy’s voice as they greeted each other, before tuning them both out, not wanting to hear the conversation.
Though Happy had known Peter couldn’t be trusted, that he was bound to mess up. Mr Stark—and Miss Potts and Aunt May—on the other hand, would be disappointed. They believed in him, and Peter had let them down. Again. Uncurling his fingers, he grasped at his hair, hard enough to hurt.
“Happy!” Morgan rushed to him the moment the door opened, throwing her arms around his middle. “You came.”
“Of course I came.”
Peter felt Happy’s eyes on him for a long moment before the tap on his knuckles. “Quit that.” When Peter let go, he tousled his hair with a short sigh. “Up you get, come on.”
Climbing into the passenger seat, Peter curled around his backpack, making himself as small as possible. He wished he had a blanket to hide under and put the world on pause.
Happy rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment, then turned on the engine.
“Happy—”
“Hm?” he replied, glancing at Morgan in the rear-view mirror.
“Are we in trouble?” she asked in a small voice.
“That’s up to Tony.”
Morgan’s quiet sigh made the knot in Peter’s stomach tighten painfully. The day had turned out nothing like it was supposed to. Peter had failed everyone.
Forehead pressed to the window, he watched Happy walk Elena up to the front door of her house and exchange some words with her mother.
“Did something happen?” Elena’s mother asked when her daughter shoved past her, sulking.
“It’s a long story…”
Peter fidgeted with the broken zipper of his backpack, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment before speaking: “That was… a really uncool thing to do, Morgan,” he whispered, his voice shaking.
It hurt knowing Morgan had tricked him, devised a whole lie to get him to the restroom without his backpack so they could hide the toys.
Morgan was mischievous and strong willed, but she was a sweet, kind girl, and Peter couldn’t imagine her even thinking of doing something like that with anyone else. He also knew no one would screw up like he had if she did either.
The silence stretched between them until Happy came back.
“Shit, look at you. Why didn’t you say anything?” he grumbled, turning down the AC after taking a look at Peter.
“Sorry,” Peter said thickly. He hadn’t noticed he was covered in goosebumps.
Happy sighed. “You good, Morgan?”
“Mhm.”
“Right then. Let’s get you two home—and back to being someone else’s problem,” he added under his breath.
Tony was waiting for them at the door when they reached the house. Morgan threw herself into his arms with a tearful ‘Daddy!’
Despite how much Peter wanted a hug too, he hung back. He had been looking forward to this trip to the mall as a chance to prove himself to Tony and May—and to himself too. That he could be a good older brother… normal, not a disappointment. But it had proven the opposite.
“Pete.”
Though he kept an arm round her shoulders, Tony set Morgan on her feet, and raised his other arm in invitation for Peter.
Peter’s shoulders rose up to his ears, while the rest of his body locked in place.
“Let’s keep moving. I don’t get paid overtime.” With a firm hand on his back, Happy pushed him into the house and straight to the living room.