Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter felt profoundly uncomfortable in his suit.

"Please, have a seat," the judge behind the desk said, gesturing.

Peter watched Aunt May and Mister Stark settle into the big wooden chairs across from the judge, leaving him a place between them. On the one hand, he liked that he had them on either side — it presented a nice, unified front, and it made him feel safe. On the other hand, that meant he was directly across from the judge himself.

Judge Nowak was a stately older woman, her graying hair pulled into a bun behind her and her lined face partially lost behind huge, gold-rimmed glasses. She wasn't wearing her full robes, though Peter could see them hanging by the door of her chambers, and yet she still loomed large before him.

"Thank you for accepting our petition not to do this in open court," the lawyer Miss Pepper had sent with them said from his place next to Mister Stark.

Judge Nowak nodded. "I don't like turning my courtroom into a media firestorm. And, given the circumstances, this is preferable for everyone."

Peter pulled at his sleeves, trying not to fidget under the woman's gaze and failing miserably. He had absolutely no idea how Mister Stark could wear his own perfect suit with the ease of a t-shirt and sweatpants. Even Aunt May in one of her nicest skirts and blouses sat comfortably enough, if a little tensely beside him.

If relaxing in formal clothes was an adult thing, Peter despaired of ever attaining it.

"Now." Judge Nowak glanced at Peter over her glasses before she opened the folder on the desk before her. "I have here all the documents submitted to the state regarding the legal guardianship of Peter Benjamin Parker. I have reviewed them at length and I have a few questions I would like to ask before we proceed."

Peter felt nervousness bite into his stomach again.

"First, Missus Parker, I understand you have already named Tony Stark as Peter's guardian in your will in the case of an unforeseen tragedy. Is this the case?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Aunt May said.

"Forgive me for having to be blunt, but can you swear to me under the threat of perjury that you have made this determination without any pressure or inducement on Mister Stark's part?"

Peter gulped, but Aunt May didn't look bothered, and Mister Stark didn't look surprised.

"Tony has been a friend of our family for two years now. He is someone we both love and trust completely, and that was before we knew him as Tony Stark. So if you're worried that I'm being bribed or blackmailed or pressured into this, I will swear on a stack of Bibles that I am not."

"I see." Judge Nowak's attention turned to Mister Stark. "And this is the person with whom you wish to share current parental rights? Keep in mind, Missus Parker, if we sign these documents today, it will provide grounds for Mister Stark to sue for custody or access to Peter later. Once you open this door, there may be no closing it."

Peter saw Aunt May's hands close in her lap, but her voice remained calm.

"I realize how this might look. You might think I'm some kind of golddigger trading my kid for money. Or that Tony...that he wants something from Peter."

"Miss Parker," Mister Stark's lawyer began to object. But Mister Stark shot him a look and he stopped.

"That is a cynical but all too plausible way of interpreting this request," Judge Nowak said. "And because of its high profile nature, I have to be very certain before I make any determination."

Aunt May nodded. "Well, on behalf of any kids who might be in that kind of trouble, I appreciate it. But I can guarantee you that nothing like that is happening here. Tony is our family. He's been there for us through everything in the last two years. He is the one person on this whole planet I have truly felt safe letting watch over my nephew. Tony would never hurt Peter. He would die for Peter, and he would live for him."

The judge nodded. "Mister Stark?"

"Yes, ma'am." And Peter noticed that there was none of Mister Stark's usual humor or snark in his voice or his expression. He was taking this more seriously than he'd ever taken any Congressional hearing. He wasn't even wearing his trademark sunglasses this time.

"Tell me about your relationship with Peter Parker."

"I met Peter and May when they moved into a building I own in Queens while I was recovering after the Mandarin attack. I helped them fix some plumbing and got to know them both. Peter is a smart, kind, amazing kid. He keeps up with me in a way most adults don't in the lab, and he is always thinking about others before himself."

Mister Stark paused to sniff as he did when he was uncomfortable.

"We've spent a lot of time together in the last two years and I can tell you, they've been the best of my life. We do science together, we watch movies, and he tells me about school while we experiment with cooking. Not very successfully, but we've managed to get pancakes right, anyway. He's more eager to learn than most people I've ever met, and it's been...it's been a privilege to work with him, to teach him, to watch him growing up."

Peter felt oddly nervous suddenly.

Mister Stark cleared his throat. "I know what my reputation is, Your Honor. I know...what you probably think of me. And you're not wrong about a lot of it. I have kind of a mixed record."

"That's one way of putting it," Judge Nowak said.

Aunt May looked like she was going to say something, but Mister Stark shook his head at her. "It's okay, May. It's...it is what it is." He looked at Peter, then back at the judge. "I get it now, how parents feel about their kids. I...I love Peter as if he were my own son, and the only thing I want for him is to grow up safe and healthy and cared for."

"And you are sincere in your desire to be a guardian to Peter? To care for him and make decisions in his best interest, even if that conflicts with your own?"

Mister Stark leaned forward. "Your Honor, if you asked me to sign away my holdings and my estate and just be the fix-it guy of Queens in order to be Peter's legal guardian, I would tell you to give me the pen right now. Peter means more to me than anything. Whatever is best for him is the only thing I will ever care about."

"Hmm."

Peter thought maybe the judge was starting to believe them, even though her face was still pretty impassive.

"Your Honor, if I may..." the lawyer started.

"Actually, I would like to speak to Peter alone, please."

Apparently nobody really expected that, Peter least of all. "Me?" he asked, and his voice broke a little on the word.

Judge Nowak nodded. "You aren't technically fourteen years old yet, so I don't have to take your opinion into account. But, given the circumstances, I would like to. However, I want you to feel able to answer me honestly without anyone pressuring you. So I would prefer if the others would step out of the room for a few minutes." She raised her eyebrows at Aunt May. "If that's all right with you."

"Um. Sure." Aunt May stood up, patting Peter on the shoulder. "Yeah, I'm okay with that. Tony?"

"Fine." And he stood, but Peter could tell he didn't like it even if he wasn't showing it. "Come on, Jackson," he said to the lawyer. "Give them some space."

The lawyer looked even less happy about it than Mister Stark did, but he didn't argue and the three of them left. Peter didn't want to watch them go like a scared kid, but he felt a hundred times more nervous once he heard the door shut behind them.

"You don't have to worry, Peter," Judge Nowak said, smiling slightly. "I'm not going to ask you anything that could get you in trouble."

"I know," he said, since it seemed like the right answer.

"Do you understand why I'm concerned about Mister Stark being your guardian, Peter?"

"Um, I think so. It's because people say a lot of things about him on the news and online, right? About him dating too many people or drinking or something."

"That's part of it," the judge said. "Though he has turned around in the last several years, and I recognize that. But he's a man in a position of power, and I have to be cautious of that."

"Like...he could be using me for something?" Peter asked. "You're worried he's going to abuse me?"

Peter appreciated that Judge Nowak met his eyes. "Yes, that is one possibility."

"He's not." Peter shook his head. "Not like that. I've gotten those talks from Aunt May and Mister Stark and every teacher since forever. He isn't, like, touching me or something. I promise."

"I believe you, and I'm glad to hear it." The judge nodded. "Do you feel safe when you're with him? Do you feel that he is nice to you?"

"Mister Stark is super nice," Peter said. "I'm way more interested in chemistry than he is, but he did all these dumb experiments with me when we first met just because I thought they were cool. Now we do a mix of stuff including coding and engineering, but not because he makes me do it. I just wanted to learn. And when there were bullies at school, he helped me out a lot."

"Has Mister Stark ever asked you to do anything that made you uncomfortable?"

"Are we back to the abuse thing again?" Peter asked, kind of annoyed.

"No. I meant more along the lines of keeping secrets from your aunt or spending time on activities that you didn't want to do."

"Nope." Peter sighed. "Mister Stark tells Aunt May everything except when it's about her birthday present or something. And, I mean, he makes me do homework first before I can hang out in the workshop with him, and he makes me do my chores, but that's not what you mean, so, no."

Peter wished he could tell her about how Mister Stark had saved him from Hydra or the Mind Stone. But Aunt May and Mister Stark and Miss Pepper had all made it very clear that he couldn't bring those up because they were SHIELD secrets. That was frustrating — Peter felt sure that if the judge understood what Mister Stark had done to save him already, she wouldn't be so worried.

"I see. Has he talked to you at all about his company?"

That surprised Peter. "Um, no?"

"Really? Interesting." She tapped a pen on the desk for a moment. "Peter, anything you say to me will never be repeated. You know that, right?"

"Um, yeah. I mean, yes, Your Honor."

"Good." She gave him a tiny smile. "Then I just need you to tell me one more thing. How does Mister Stark make you feel?"

Peter closed his eyes and knew his cheeks were burning. But he had to be honest. It was up to him now.

He opened them. "Mister Stark...he's my hero. But not, like, Iron Man. Or, I mean, not just Iron Man. Iron Man is everybody's hero, right? But he...when I didn't know he was Mister Stark and thought he was just Mister Carbonell, he was still my hero. Because he...he took care of Aunt May and me. He walked with me to the store every week for groceries, and he helped us on the anniversary of...of Uncle Ben's death."

He gulped, then plowed on before he could lose courage.

"I don't really remember my parents. It was just me and Aunt May and Uncle Ben. And I miss Uncle Ben, like, a lot. Mister Stark doesn't take his place and he never tried to. But...even though I love Aunt May, we were really lonely before we had Mister Stark and then Miss Pepper and the others."

Peter felt like he wasn't saying things right. He stopped, unclenched his hands, and took a deep breath.

"Mister Stark loves me like he said. Like I'm...his kid. And I…"

Judge Nowak looked into his eyes. "It's okay, Peter. You are safe to say whatever you want to say."

He nodded. "When...when they told me about the guardianship thing, I was...well, I was really happy. Because Mister Stark is my family just like Aunt May even though none of us are related by blood. Aunt May says blood shouldn't matter and it doesn't because I love them and they love me anyway."

Finally the words fit together in his chest and he met the judge's eyes without fear.

"And Mister Stark will be my family no matter what you decide about us because he's never going to go away and neither am I. But if you made it legal, that would be even better. Not because that makes it real because it's already real. But then...then I don't have to be scared of losing anybody else anymore."

Judge Nowak stared at Peter for a long moment, then picked up her phone on her desk.

"Send them back in, please."

Not even a second later, the door opened and Mister Stark was the first one through it. Before he sat down again, though, he paused by Peter's chair and Peter knew he was looking to see if Peter was okay. Peter tried to smile.

Mister Stark put a hand on Peter's head, not ruining his hair for once, and that was enough to settle the jumping in Peter's middle.

After everyone sat down again, Judge Nowak folded her hands before her.

"Approving shared legal guardianship is not just a rubber stamp because the potential for harm is great," she said. "Primary custody remains with the designated parent, but once these papers are signed, the child becomes a bond between adults that cannot easily be severed. Conflicts that arise between the guardians over the care of a child can become bitter, even vicious. And that is before one parent is the richest person in the world."

Peter felt hope slipping away.

"However." She took her glasses off and set them on her desk. "My job is not to assess whether or not I anticipate a falling out in the future. My job is to determine what is in the best interest of the child."

She smiled at Peter.

"May Parker, you should know that your nephew speaks very well for himself. You should be proud of him."

"Of course I am." Aunt May reached over and squeezed Peter's hand.

"We both are," Mister Stark added, and it probably wasn't supposed to sound like a challenge, but it kind of did.

"Being honest with you both, I do believe the potential for conflict in the future is great. Mister Stark's wealth and influence alone are enough to create an imbalance of power between you, and such a struggle could be devastating to Peter who clearly loves you both very much. If you haven't already, I suggest you work with a licensed family therapist to set up some firm rules and boundaries around coparenting him."

Peter's hope bubbled up again. He couldn't help himself. "Does that mean…?" He stopped as soon as he realized he'd interrupted the judge.

But Judge Nowak chuckled.

"I am hereby granting the petition to add Anthony Edward Stark as a legal guardian for the minor Peter Benjamin Parker. Whatever the future holds for you, Peter himself has made it very clear that you are a family and the least I can do is acknowledge it."

She signed the papers before her, and Peter grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.

When she finished and handed the folder over to Mister Stark's lawyer, Judge Nowak stood and leaned over her desk and held her hand out to Peter. Peter rose up out of his chair to shake it.

"I wish you a bright future with your family, Peter," she said. "I hope you all continue to be happy together."

Peter shook her hand probably too enthusiastically, but he didn't care. "We will be!"

And he knew he wasn't the only one who was sure of it from Aunt May and Mister Stark and their matching smiles.

-==OOO==-

May walked out of the courthouse feeling lighter than she had in a long time. Beside her, Peter was beaming and Tony was grinning in a way he would hate if anybody managed to catch in a picture. Not that anybody would get a chance — Happy was already waiting for them in the attached parking garage.

It would always be a risk, May knew, that somebody might spot them and identify Tony and turn her life and Peter's life upside-down. But it was a risk worth taking. Family was always a risk worth taking.

Once they were piled safely in the big SUV with the tinted windows, Tony turned around to face them.

"So! Now that the boring legal stuff is over, how are we celebrating?"

May gave him a sly look. "You mean you didn't plan anything ridiculous and over the top for us already?"

The moment of frozen surprise on Tony's face was priceless. He recovered quickly, though. "Actually, no. Should I have?"

He didn't say it, but May knew — Tony had been worried they wouldn't get the approval. He'd been afraid to plan anything in advance because he couldn't bear facing the possibility of having to walk out without the legal acknowledgement of his relationship to her and Peter. It was the kind of thing that reminded May time and again that Tony, for all his giant reputation and unfathomable wealth and power, was no different from her. Still subject to uncertainty and doubt and second-guessing.

How few people remembered that Iron Man wasn't made of iron at all, but flesh, blood, and heart.

"Um," Peter said. "I mean, if there aren't any plans, and we don't have to do this today, but…"

"What is it, kiddo?" Tony asked. "Got an idea?"

"Not exactly that. Just...now that this is all done, there's something…"

"It's fine, Peter. Just tell us," May said.

Peter looked up, his brown eyes serious. "I really want to tell Ned about Mister Stark."

May felt herself staring at him. "Honey…"

"I know that we didn't want anybody to know," Peter said, interrupting. "I know. But he's my best friend and he has been since we were babies. And he knows everything about me except this and it's the most important thing and…" He swallowed. "He's my best friend," he said again.

May glanced at Tony, but Tony's face had gone soft. "He's kind of your family, too, huh?"

Peter nodded.

"Can he keep a secret?" Tony asked.

"Um, like, probably?" Now he looked abashed. "Ned is going to freak out, no matter what. I just think...if he does it when we know it's coming, he's less likely to do it in the middle of school or something."

"It would be hard to keep from him when you're at Midtown together," May said. "But I'm not sure it's fair to tell Ned without his parents knowing, too."

"Oh, that's a good point," Peter said. "Yeah, Ned can't not tell his mom literally everything ever."

"May, what do you think?" Tony asked.

"Tony…" That was Happy, sounding anything but.

"I know, I know, paranoia and whatnot." Tony flapped a hand at him. "Didn't ask you. May?"

She considered. "Ned is excitable. But he's always been there for Peter. I think...if we give him enough time to get used to the idea, by the time school comes around he might be okay. And…" She glanced at Peter. "I think it would be good for Peter to have a friend he can talk to about things, if he needs it. And, no offense, but the Avengers don't count."

Tony nodded. "If I get Pepper to write us some NDAs for the whole family, we could tell them this weekend." He winked at Peter. "Once he knows about me, you could invite him to your birthday."

"Oh wow." Peter's whole face lit up. "Yeah! Can we?"

May and Tony exchanged a speaking glance.

-==OOO==-

Two days later, May and Peter sat, equally nervous, in the Italian restaurant at the base of the Tower.

May had told the Leeds that she and Peter had won a certificate for a free dinner there and wanted to share their night out — and since it had been ages since May and Ned's parents had spent time together, they agreed.

The restaurant was chosen, of course, because Pepper and Tony owned it and could make sure to keep it empty of other patrons that night so they could have privacy for the discussion. Also, everyone who worked at the restaurant already knew Tony and May and Peter, and had been scared by Pepper and Happy, signed various legal agreements, and generally were about as safe as anyone could be.

May and Peter were sitting facing the entrance, so they saw the Leeds family as soon as they entered. Peter rose out of his chair and waved. "Ned!"

"Hey Peter!" Ned darted over, his mom and dad trailing after him. "How cool is it that we're actually in Avengers Tower? There could be actual Avengers upstairs!"

May chuckled; there were definitely Avengers upstairs, and it wasn't even completely out of the realm of possibility that any of them were watching JARVIS's camera feeds right now.

May watched the two of them do their complicated handshake and smiled at Ned's parents. "I'm so glad you could join us."

"Thank you for inviting us," Tala said, smiling in return. "It's not often we get the chance to visit this part of the city."

"How have you been?" Jonah asked, holding the chair for his wife before he sat.

May really liked Ned's parents. Jonah was tall and broad with an open face and a ready smile. Tala, in comparison, was a tiny woman who didn't even reach five feet in height, and yet she was as warm and kind as her son. Her own mother, Ned's grandmother, was an absolute firecracker of a woman who had brought her whole family to New York to give them better lives without ever sacrificing an inch of their own Filipino culture. Ned's father was only half Filipino; his father had been an American ex-pat who fell in love with a woman, a culture, and an island all at the same time.

Ned had a host of cousins on both sides of the family, but he had never seemed to view Peter as anything other than his long-lost brother. And Ned's parents were very much the same. They had celebrated Peter's birthday for years, had talked to him about school when he invaded their house every week for sleepovers, had offered rides to see movies when May was working.

Peter was right, May realized. It's long past time we told them about Tony. They're family, too.

She chatted with Jonah and Tala for a few minutes, catching up about little things while Peter and Ned leaned over Ned's phone watching something and laughing.

May had planned Tony's entrance, so, once she felt everyone was starting to settle, she took a deep breath.

"There's something Peter and I need to tell you," she said.

Ned's head snapped up. "Oh my god. Peter, tell me this isn't a thing where May got a new job and you're, like, moving to Nebraska or something. Because that would be really not good and we're finally going to be in school together again..."

Tala leaned over and patted her son on the shoulder. "Let May finish, Ned."

"Nebraska?" Peter asked. "Really?"

"Sorry, I tried to think of the most boring place ever." He turned beseeching eyes on May. "You're not moving? Right? Because I literally cannot handle that."

"No, we're not going anywhere," May said.

Ned collapsed against his chair. "So scary. Don't do that, Aunt May."

She smiled at him. He'd always called her 'Aunt May' because that's what Peter called her. And because of that, Ned had become the one person who had ever changed Peter's mind about what to call a grown-up.

Tony is going to throw a fit when he finds out that there are adults Peter calls something other than Mister and Missus.

Maybe it'll finally be the push Peter needs.

Only my kid would be so weirdly stubborn about that.

"You know that Mister Carbonell has become a fixture in our lives," May began, watching Peter get nervous about it.

Jonah nodded. "Still curious about him, though." He smiled to take any bite out of his words.

"That's part of why we're here. We wanted you to meet him finally, especially because," May glanced at Peter before saying, "as of this week, Tony has shared guardianship over Peter."

"Oh wow!" Ned grinned. "That's so cool! So is he, like, your dad now?"

"Not really?" Even Peter didn't sound sure, and May winked at the Leeds. "He just...he can sign me out of school or whatever if Aunt May isn't around."

"So," May said, rescuing Peter before he lost his nerve, "we thought it was time for you to get to know him. But, well." She spotted the familiar squared shoulders entering the restaurant and took a breath. "There's something you need to know about him."

Peter looked up at Ned. "Um, his name's not really Mister Carbonell."

"Nope!" And there was Tony Stark in all his smug glory, grinning at the suddenly startled table. "Hi. Tony Stark. Nice to meet you finally."

May was going to get pictures from JARVIS later. Jonah and Tala were staring, wide eyed. Ned looked like he'd been speared by a pole.

"Oh...my...god." Ned turned his shocked expression to Peter. "Your...your legal guardian dad is Tony Stark!"

Peter broke into a laugh. "I know!"

"But...Tony Stark!"

"Yep, that's me." Tony took the open seat between May and Peter. "Nice to meet you finally, Ned. Ted? Zed?"

Ned was very close to hyperventilating. "Oh my god. Tony Stark knows my name. This is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me." He managed to wrench his gaze up to the man in question. "You're on my wall and you're a genius and it's such an honor and I kinda want your autograph and you can call me anything you want and I will tattoo it on my forehead. Sir."

"Ned!" Tala was torn between laughter and mortification. "No forehead tattoos!"

"I love that that's your objection," Tony said.

"Well, of course." Tala smiled at him and it almost looked calm. "I can't do anything about his hero-worship."

"Which will probably get worse now that you're...actually here." Jonah reached across the table. "Jonah Leeds. It's an honor to meet you, sir."

"It's a pleasure for me," Tony said, and May could tell he was being sincere. "You've been important to Peter and May for a long time."

"Well, thank you for taking such good care of them for us. I'm Tala." She shook his hand next. "But I hope you know what you're in for with the two of them now, Mister Stark."

"Call me Tony," he said, winking. "I'm expecting a fair amount of fanboying, some stuttering, possibly a few inappropriate questions, and more of the same for the next...what, five or six visits?"

"I think you're being optimistic," May said, gesturing at where Ned was still staring. "He might not be normal until January."

"Hey," Ned objected, "it's not my fault that I'm meeting the actual Tony Stark. I am not prepared. There was no preparing for this."

"Also," Peter put in, smirking, "Ned's never normal."

"I don't think you get to hold yourself up as a paragon of normality, either, mini me," Tony told him.

Ned's eyes went wide all over again. "Oh my god, he called you 'mini me,' Peter!"

"Yeah, he does that." Peter rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Hang out long enough and you'll get a nickname, too," May said.

Ned looked like he might faint. Tala handed him a glass of water.

"Drink this, dear, and try to breathe."

"Well, while Nedward over there settles into the new reality, shall we get this dinner started?" Tony asked. "Teenagers need to eat every ten minutes, or at least that's how it seems, and it's entirely possible I missed lunch, so…"

Peter immediately looked away from where he and Ned had been exchanging silent glances and gestures of their own sign-language. "Mister Stark! You didn't!"

"Afraid so, Underoos. The Mark 53 isn't going to build itself."

Ned's hysteria was interrupted by Tony signaling the waiter to finally come forward to give them menus. By the time they had drinks, the kid almost looked like his usual self even if his eyes were weirdly round every time he glanced at Tony. On the other hand, Jonah and Tala were taking things in stride.

"So, Peter," Jonah asked, "I know you've had some success with building bots lately. What's it like learning from Tony Stark himself?"

"It's awesome!" Peter enthused. "Mister Stark invites me into his lab here in the Tower so I can see how he built some of his bots and even JARVIS the AI who runs the building. It's so cool."

"Does that mean you won't be over to our place for Legos anymore now that you have actual robots to build?" Tala teased.

"Aw, come on, Tita." Peter shook his head. "Legos are different." He glanced at Ned and smiled. "Legos are sacred."

"Awesome." And Ned initiated the shorter version of their handshake.

"Wait, stop right there," Tony said.

May started to laugh.

Tony ignored her, pinning Peter with a glare. "What exactly did you call Missus Leeds over there?"

"Uh." Peter's face showed he realized he'd made a great tactical error. "Um. Well, I've known her forever, and Ned calls Aunt May 'aunt' too, so it's like a cultural…thing…and…"

May was having way too much fun with Peter's consternation, but it felt good after so much else to just laugh, so she did.

"No, unacceptable." Tony held up a hand. "Leeds family, I'm recruiting you. Giving you homework. Whatever. In the name of Parker friendship, I need your assistance. Urgently."

"What can we do for you?" Jonah asked, his eyes already dancing.

"Whatever magic you used to get Pete to call you anything other than 'mister' and 'missus,' you gotta work it for me. I'm his legal guardian and I can't get the kid to call me Tony."

"Peter, Iron Man wants you to call him Tony!" Ned almost yelled, shaking Peter's elbow.

Oh, kid, wait until you find out that the entire Avengers roster is trying to get on a first-name basis with him, too, May thought, and laughed harder.

Peter groaned and buried his face in his arms on the table. He muttered something unintelligible.

Except, apparently, to Ned who spoke fluent muffled-Peter-in-distress. "You call him padrino?"

"Sometimes," Peter said more clearly. "Like...not a lot."

Ned wiped his hands on his face. "Tony Stark is your legal guardian dad, you get to play in his lab, he calls you nicknames, and you have one for him and...this is definitely the best day of my life and the coolest thing to happen to anybody ever in the universe."

"And if you can convince him to call me Tony," Tony said, "I will guarantee you a personal tour of the Avengers Compound and autographs by every single Avenger and your pick of the latest StarkPhone models for you and your parents."

"Are you bribing our kid, Mister Stark?" Tala asked, arching an eyebrow.

Tony grinned at her. "I dunno. Will it work?"

"Oh my god, it will totally work," Ned gushed. "I will get him to call you Tony or die trying. I promise."

"Ned, you traitor," Peter groused.

"Oh, speaking of the Avengers," May said, enjoying Peter's suffering way too much, "Ned, how would you and your parents like to come to Peter's birthday party? I think a few of them will be there." She grinned. "And by 'a few,' I really mean all of them."

Ned's screech of joy could be heard two floors up.

Chapter Text

"Hey, kiddo. You okay?"

Tony could see that Peter's smile was genuine even if he was also worn out. "Yeah. Just taking a minute."

"Mind if I sit?"

Peter shook his head.

Tony settled himself on the bench, stretching his legs out and leaning against the window. From here, he had a perfect view of the entire common room — not the fancy one the scepter had destroyed a few months earlier back at the Tower, but the one at the Compound. There was something comfortable about being able to see everyone, and to know they were all having fun.

Steve and Pepper were locked in a ping pong battle against Nat and Clint this time, and the teams were frighteningly well-matched. Sam and Happy were trying to explain the finer points of knock-knock joke humor to Vision (it was going better than trying to explain it to Thor, anyway). Bruce and May were talking animatedly about places abroad with Tala and Jonah. And nearby, Thor and Rhodey were competing with one another to tell the best battle story to an enraptured Ned.

"Pretty good birthday?" Tony asked.

"The best." Peter rubbed at his nose. "Just...a lot."

Tony grinned. "That was kind of the point."

Tony had decided to go all the way with this year's celebration, so he had opened up the biggest of the Avengers training gyms and filled it with structures, hidey-holes, and as many tumbling mats as he could rent in the tri-state area. When everyone had arrived, he had designated Peter and Ned as team captains and challenged everyone to a no-holds-barred game of laser tag.

Peter's team ended up being Tony, Vision, Nat, Rhodey, Pepper, May, and Happy.

Ned had Thor, Steve, Clint, Sam, Bruce, and both of his parents.

While Ned had two fliers (since neither Tony nor Rhodey really had the maneuverability indoors without risking whoever was standing anywhere behind them), he also had two civilians to Peter's one. Tony knew that Steve being on Ned's team would mean Steve wouldn't let anybody tell Ned how to set up his players, which was fair because Tony completely left the strategy to Peter as well.

Peter had decided the thing to do was target specific players on the opposite team rather than try to hold territory.

So Peter sent May and Happy to deal with Ned's parents, Pepper to counter Bruce, Nat against Clint (and she enjoyed that way too much), Rhodey to handle Sam, and then himself, Vision, and Tony against the combined forces of Thor and Steve who would be protecting Ned.

It was a wild, chaotic hour of running, shouting, cheating, zapping one another, yelling about cheating, dodging powers, hiding behind stacks of things, and generally letting loose. But, in the end, Peter's team emerged triumphant because of two things.

First, Vision's ability to pass through matter made him the best sneak on the board, able to pull people out of cover or draw fire for teammates, and he couldn't be beaten by any amount of brute force Thor and Steve could summon.

Second, with Peter and Tony on the same team — to say nothing of Pepper — they made use of what Peter called "just another extension of Iron Man and therefore fair game" and added JARVIS as their ninth member.

There was no hiding from JARVIS, and no getting surprised with his eye in the sky. So no matter how much Clint refused to accept it, even after he got his butt handed to him by Nat, Peter's team took the others apart.

Afterwards, they ate an Avengers-sized feast, half-buried Peter in presents and cake, lit up the bonfire outdoors for a while, and bantered endlessly about the game. By that time, Ned had quit stammering and looking like he would faint, and instead was throwing questions at Avengers left and right as fast as he could. If that turned into an impromptu skills competition out in the field, well, it kept everybody busy.

When the sun set, Tony and Peter set off a round of fireworks, this now a tradition, before they all ducked indoors.

"Can we do this again next year?" Peter asked. "The laser tag?"

"Of course we can," Tony said. "As long as you pick me first for your team again."

Peter gave him a completely affronted look. "Who else would I choose? Come on!"

"That's my boy." Tony rubbed his hair.

"Thank you for, you know. Everything." Peter drew in a deep breath. "I'm not sure I've ever seen Ned this happy. Like, ever."

"And you? You're happy?" Tony asked. "Because no offense to Fred, but he's not the one we're celebrating here."

Peter wrinkled his nose. Tony enjoyed teasing Ned by messing up his name every chance he got. Ned never seemed to mind, but it annoyed Peter for some reason, which was exactly why Tony kept doing it.

"Yeah. Sometimes it still doesn't feel real, but in a good way. Every kid in the world would give anything to meet the Avengers, and today I got to knock Captain America off his perch right into Thor." He shook his head. "It's crazy I'm this lucky."

"Hmm." Tony reached into his pocket. "You deserve it, Pete. You deserve better than you've gotten for the most part."

Peter shrugged at that.

Tony drew out the little packet he'd kept safe in his suit coat and handed it to Peter.

"What's this?"

"Call it an extra birthday present," Tony said.

"No, Mister Stark, you already gave me so much!"

Tony shook his head. "Not listening. You called me something other than Tony. Leave a message and try again." Then he winked. "Look, it's nothing big. Just...something I wanted you to have. Okay?"

Tony watched Peter open the packet carefully, spilling out the familiar chain.

"My mom gave me this one a long time ago," Tony said. "Saint Joseph, for watching over kids or being a craftsman or something. I wore it every day until she and my dad died. Then...I figured he hadn't done his job for her, so why should he do it for me?"

Peter was staring at him. "But…"

"She would want you to have it, Peter," Tony said, meeting his eyes. "I've got yours," and he patted his chest where the medal of Saint Patrick hung under his shirt, "so you should have one, too. Even if you're less Catholic than I am. Because it's not about the saint guy. It's about what it means from the person who gave it to you."

"Like how I gave you one because I wanted you to be safe," Peter said softly.

"Yep. And I want you to be safe, too, but I also want you to have something from my mom. You're my kid. So that makes you hers, too."

Peter smiled and pulled the chain over his head, sliding the worn medal under his clothes.

"Thank you, padrino," he said.

Tony hauled him in for a hug. "Happy fourteenth, kiddo."

The hug was interrupted by pounding feet and Ned's voice chanting, "Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter!"

"Whatcha got, Breadward?" Tony asked, releasing his kid and dodging Peter's attempt to jab him in the ribs.

"Colonel Rhodes and Mister Thor are going to compete to see who can get the most marshmallows in their mouths and Peter you gotta come judge this with me."

Tony couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, no. Steve!" he yelled across the room. "Quit losing to the SHIELD twins and come over here. Team bonding activity. Mandatory."

"Nah, it is not necessary," Thor boomed back. "Victory is sure to be mine. I need not embarrass any of you today."

"Oh, it is so on," Clint said, dropping his paddle. "What are we doing and how fast can I prove you wrong?"

And that's how JARVIS got an entire file of pictures of the Avengers team mashing piles of marshmallows into their mouths while Ned and Peter kept breathless count and Bruce stood ready to provide medical assistance if one went down the wrong way.

The only person who wasn't surprised that Sam Wilson blew them all away was Sam himself. He looked like a swollen owl when he was done, and he had to excuse himself to empty his cheeks or risk choking, but even then he was epically smug about it.

Thor, on the other hand, sulked until Peter and Ned told him he had the best hair out of the Avengers. Somehow this ended with more hair-braiding going on, and Tony only barely avoided getting his beard braided by May.

But Tony caught Ned whispering to Peter as they watched Nat and Pepper teach Bruce how to do a French braid. The kid was full of energy and scary amounts of admiration, but he was also loyal to Peter and thus had earned a pass for life from Tony just because of that.

"Dude, your life is awesome."

"I know, right?"

"Thanks for letting me be part of it."

"You were part of it first. Thanks for being there for me before I was cool."

"I always thought you were cool, Peter."

"You, too."

And Tony felt at peace with the world.

-==OOO==-

Peter woke in the middle of the night, not sure what had startled him. The Compound was always so quiet, unlike the city where the constant hum of traffic, sirens, trains, and airport noise never really went away no matter how late or early. He and May had stayed over while Mister Hogan drove Ned and his parents home, so Peter was alone in his room.

Should have been alone in his room.

"Do not be afraid, child."

Peter sat straight up in bed, blankets pooling around him, and his heart started to beat fast. "Who's there?"

Something began to glow, slowly at first, then brighter until it filled the room with light.

Peter blinked, trying to be sure he wasn't imagining things. "Uh, Grandfather Odin?"

The former king of Asgard smiled gently, perched on Peter's own desk chair. The light was coming from him like he was a giant firefly. "Hail and well met, young one. Forgive me for startling you."

"No, it's okay. I mean, um. Hi. I really didn't expect to see you again, like, ever."

Odin nodded. "You certainly shall not see me often, Starkson. But I am not far should you seek me, either."

"Oh. Um, thanks?"

"I shall not say long, so do not worry yourself. I merely came to give you a gift."

"Oh, no." Peter shook his head. "You didn't need to get me anything, seriously. You already saved me from the Mind Stone. I mean, that's worth more birthday presents than I'm even going to have birthdays, so…"

Odin held up a hand and Peter fell silent.

"The anniversary of one's birth has merit, and I would not see this one pass without some acknowledgement. And besides, what I bring you is something I believe you may need all too soon."

"Something I'll need?" Peter asked.

"I still lack true foresight of all that is to come," Grandfather Odin said, "but some things are clear to me. Your Wyrd has been changed by the power of the Mind Stone, and that change will make itself known 'ere you reach the next mortal year of life. So I judge that now is the time for a gift which shall help you in your endeavors."

Peter really didn't know what to do with that.

"Come closer to me and hold out your hands, child."

Peter did, and felt something round pressed into his palms, maybe the size of a big gumball.

In the soft light, it looked like a golden ball with a pattern engraved on it like clouds swirling.

"Wow. Thank you." Peter tipped it over, examining it. "It's really neat."

Grandfather Odin shook his head. "It is not some purposeless bauble. Allow me to show you." Odin demonstrated twisting the ball like it was a Rubik's cube

Peter tried it and, with a musical plinking sound, it split in half and opened. Now it was two half-spheres linked at a hidden hinge. But instead of being like a secret box, the inside was not hollow. The two flat halves had carvings that each looked like an eye.

"This bears a simple but powerful enchantment," Odin said. "Only you can open it other than myself — or Loki as he is as knowledgeable about these magics as I. When it is closed, it is merely an attractive item, though you will find that no mortals will ever take much notice of it. It hides itself from those who have not been taught to see."

"Okay…"

"But when you open it like this," Odin said, "then its true power is revealed. The artificial being who lives in these buildings and watches over all, your father's Heimdall, will not be able to perceive you, nor shall he recognize that such a blind spot has been created."

"When I open this, JARVIS can't see me?" Peter asked. "What about other people?"

"One who knows you well and cares for you will see through the enchantment, but no casual mortal gaze shall catch you. And no artificial gaze will recognize you. In this way, I give you a chance to forge your own path out from under the eyes of your carers."

Peter stared at him. "Um, this is super cool. But, uh…why do I need to be able to hide from people?"

"Your Wyrd will make itself known soon enough. I cannot say what it is or where it shall lead you. Only that you must be allowed to follow it in your own time without interference. Your father would call it reckless to allow you to endanger yourself, especially as you are still so very young. But only you can truly understand your Wyrd. Any Wyrd left untended will rot like fruit in the garden, sickening everything it touches."

Peter swallowed. "The Mind Stone did something...are you talking about, like, rewriting my destiny?"

"If you must understand it that way."

"Things must happen when it is time for them to happen," Peter whispered, remembering that speech from The Last Unicorn. "The happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story."

"Precisely, child."

"So...when whatever happens...you're saying I need to go with it."

"And I wish you to be able to do so as only you can, so I give you this shroud that you may follow your Wyrd in secret if you think you must." Grandfather Odin closed his hands around Peter's wrists. "Promise me you shall do so as safely as it can be done, Peter Starkson, wielder of Mjolnir. Mine is the least of hearts that would break should harm come to you."

Peter gulped. He met the endless, ancient eye of the former king of Asgard and nodded.

"Thank you for this gift, Grandfather Odin. I promise I'll be careful when...whatever happens."

"Good. Then sleep now, child. And fear not." Odin's face bent and Peter was pretty sure no mortal Earthling could look that serene — Asgardians must have extra facial muscles or magic or both or something. "Your Wyrd was chosen because you are worthy of it. Do not fear yourself or your destiny."

Peter felt sleep crowding into his head and only had a moment to wonder if it was coming from somewhere else, like the Asgardian who had invaded his bedroom.

"Goodnight...Grandfather," he managed as he tipped back to his pillow.

He felt the blankets pulled up around him, warm hands tucking him in gently.

"Frigga bless you and guard you, child. May her love stand between you and all fear."

And Peter fell asleep.

-==OOO==-

Ned was practically buzzing as he climbed up the front steps of the Midtown School of Science and Technology for the first day of school. High school was going to be awesome. Peter was going to be in his classes again, and they were finally here at the school they'd been dreaming about since third grade. He wore a retro Star Wars shirt for the first day, and his face was feeling really good.

First, Ned headed to his locker — they all got their locker assignments in their school packets along with maps of where to find everything — to drop off his backpack. He was immediately disappointed that he had the locker on the bottom, which meant four years of getting bumped by people when he was putting stuff away, but at least the lockers were wide enough for an actual coat. The middle school lockers had been tiny.

Ned and Peter had agreed to arrive early so they could meet up before figuring out where to find their homeroom, and they'd already swapped class schedules and locker numbers and everything, so as soon as Ned was done with his own stuff, he set off to find Peter.

Everything in the school felt really tall for some reason. Maybe that was Ned being used to middle school where everything was meant for people the height of sixth graders. But, in contrast, this school was geared for the seniors, and Ned hadn't hit any kind of real growth spurt yet. Neither had Peter, which was a comfort, but still. It reminded him that they were new here, and very much at the bottom of the social hierarchy.

He spotted Peter opening a locker on the top of the row.

"Hey, Peter!" he yelled.

Peter was wearing one of his science pun shirts, which didn't stick out in this crowd since everybody here was a nerd, or at least used to them by now.

Peter turned and grinned. "Hi Ned!"

By the time Ned got through the throngs of students, Peter had shut his locker and they could initiate their handshake.

"This place is awesome!" Peter said, grinning.

"I am so glad you got in, too," Ned said, meaning it heartily. "I was afraid I wouldn't get in, but I was a lot more afraid I would and then you wouldn't and I'd be on my own." He realized how that sounded and added, "Not that I thought you wouldn't get in because you're, like, way smart. But it's expensive and…"

He thought about Peter knowing actual Iron Man and spluttered. It was either that or reference the very thing he'd promised never to reveal on pain of death and not getting to hang out with the Avengers ever again.

"I know what you mean," Peter said. "I'm glad we're both here. Anybody else from your old class?"

Ned swallowed. "Yeah, probably."

Peter looked at him in concern and Ned needed a distraction fast. "Hey, so, do you think we have time to wander around before homeroom, or…?"

"Oh, look!"

Ned's blood froze in his veins.

"The mutt finally found his pathetic excuse for a master!"

Peter blinked and looked up. "Is that…?"

"Flash Thompson," Ned said, dread overpowering most other brain functions.

Flash planted himself altogether too close to Ned for comfort. "Well, come on, Fido. Going to bark for your long-lost owner?"

Peter was frowning. "Leave him alone, Flash."

"He remembers me!" Flash grinned and Ned flinched. "You know, you really should take better care of your pets, Peter. The last couple of years, Rover here has been moping around, forgetting to lick himself, you know. All the stuff dogs do when their people go away."

"Just shut up, Flash," Ned said.

It had been a long two years in middle school without Peter. They'd never really had any friends other than themselves in any of their classes, but at least they had been there for one another. Flash Thompson had been a jerk since forever, but his favorite target had always been Peter.

Ned knew a lot of that was that Peter was just so much better than Flash could ever hope to be. But, also, Peter was the kind of person that always reacted when they got provoked. He was fun to surprise because he would always jump and make a noise. He was fun to poke because he had always been ticklish and would laugh harder than everyone else. Ned's mom and dad had talked to Ned a lot — especially in the last two years — about how not giving people the satisfaction of a response made other kids stop messing with you.

Which had mostly worked, but Flash never seemed to need a reason. And without Peter around, he'd settled on Ned as his target.

Ned had never breathed a word of it to Peter. Not because he didn't trust him, but because he just didn't want him to worry. Peter had enough stuff to deal with without knowing Ned was having trouble. But now, with Flash leering at them both, he wished he'd at least brought it up.

Poor Peter looked flummoxed and surprised and that always made him even more nervous and awkward.

"Ned's not a dog, Flash," Peter managed. "Go away."

"Go away," Flash taunted. "God, and here I almost missed that stupid face you make when you think you can tell me what to do. How'd you get into this school, Parker? Did they let you skip the application process because they felt bad for you?"

"Stop it," Ned said.

"Poor Peter kills everybody around him," Flash said, getting right in Peter's face. "Is your aunt still alive, or did she die from proximity to you, too?"

For the last two years, Ned had been really awful at sticking up for himself, but he wasn't going to let Flash hurt Peter.

"Knock it off!" he said, drawing himself up. Flash wasn't any taller than he was, after all. And Peter might be stick skinny still, but Ned wasn't and he wasn't afraid to prove it.

"Aw, Peter can't even defend himself. Need your mutt to do it for you?"

Peter's face was doing a lot of things and most of them were things Ned really didn't want Flash to see. Flash was smart — he knew how to hit where it hurt.

But Peter took a deep breath and Ned watched him look up. His eyes still looked wrong and Ned could see Peter fighting back a lot of feelings, but Peter held himself rigidly tall.

"It's good to know you couldn't grow a real personality in two years, Flash," Peter said. "So maybe you're the one who got into school on a scholarship for being socially challenged."

Flash's gaze immediately narrowed. "You're a dick, Parker." He laughed. "Penis Parker! God, why didn't I think of it before?"

"Hey," Ned said, trying to intercede again. "Don't call him that."

"I'm not insulting him. I'm describing him. He's a dick. And everybody's going to know it. Just watch." Flash jammed his shoulder into Peter's — hard. "See you in class, Penis!"

As soon as he was gone, Ned watched Peter lean on the lockers heavily. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, just...kinda thought I was finally done with bullies."

Ned thought maybe he should apologize, or something, but Peter sighed and looked up.

"How come you didn't tell me he was calling you a dog all this time?"

"Um." Ned shrugged. "I mean, you had enough to deal with, and it didn't really matter, you know? You couldn't do anything about it, and it really wasn't that bad. And, he kind of had a point. I did miss you and it sucked being the only loser without anybody to eat lunch with and stuff."

"Hey." Peter pushed away from the locker and held out his hand. "You're not the only loser anymore. I'm sorry Flash was a jerk to you the whole time I was gone, though. You coulda told me."

"I think you should be more worried about the fact that he's going to be a jerk to you from now on. Mom thought he was bothering me because he couldn't bother you anymore, and now he can, so…" Ned shook his head but returned the short version of their handshake. "We need to get Flash a hobby or something."

"As long as it's not robotics," Peter said.

Ned couldn't help it — he laughed. "Hey, you kicked all their butts already. You'd kick Flash's, too, if you got the chance." He paused. "Are you going to join the robotics club here, too?"

"Yeah," Peter said, brightening. "And I was going to try out for Academic Decathlon, too. And band, of course."

"Sweet. Do you think I can get into AcaDec with you?" Ned wanted to know.

"Of course you can." Peter looked honestly offended. "Sign up with me at lunch."

"Do they even take freshmen, though?"

"We won't know until we find out," Peter said, and he was smiling again. "Come on. We better find homeroom before the bell rings."

And Ned felt a hundred million times better. "I'm really glad you're here," he said as they started down the hall together. "Like, uncool that you have to deal with Flash again, and that he's already got a nickname for you and stuff. But still."

"Ned, it's fine," Peter said. "I wouldn't trade it." He paused. Then, choosing his words very carefully, added, "I've met worse people, you know. Real...villainous."

"Oh my god, you've met actual supervillains," Ned whispered. "Have you? Was it really scary?"

"Can't tell you," Peter said, glaring at him. "And you know that. So just...yeah. Flash is not worse than other stuff. Like, at all."

"Wow. I really do have the coolest friend."

Peter grinned. "Coolest losers in the school," he said.

Ned heard Peter's phone ping. "Somebody texting you?"

"Yeah, hang on." They ducked into homeroom and grabbed a pair of desks near the back. When Peter pulled out his phone, he sighed. "Great."

"What is it?"

"So, I told you JARVIS is in my phone, right?"

"Yes. Still the dopest thing I've ever heard."

"Well, that means he heard all of that," Peter said, scowling. "He's threatening to tell Mister...Carbonell about it."

Ned immediately spotted an opening. "You're supposed to call him Tony, remember?"

"Not now, Ned."

"No, now is perfect," Ned argued. "Warm up to it when it's just me and then someday you can just march up and say 'Tony' to his face and it won't be weird."

"I hate that he bribed you," Peter said.

Ned shrugged, feeling entirely unrepentant. "You're my best friend but, like, if the president of the United States gave me a mission, I'd have to do it. And this is way, way bigger of a deal than that."

Peter groaned.

"Anyway," Ned tried to get him back on track, "What's JARVIS saying exactly?"

"JARVIS texted me to say that he recorded the interaction and that it breaks school harassment rules and that I should report it. He also wants to tell Mister Carbonell and Aunt May about it so they can file a complaint on my behalf."

Ned tipped his head. "Wouldn't that be...good? I mean, nobody's ever gotten Flash to back off before, but maybe it would work. Especially with...somebody helping out."

"No way." Peter shook his head. "It doesn't actually work. Not unless...well, remember the guys who came after me last summer when I was walking home from your place?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Mister...Carbonell pulled some strings. He won't tell me what he did, but they went away completely. I think their families might even have moved? So, whatever he does to Flash, it's not going to be just a talking to."

"Awesome!" Ned cheered. "Even better!"

"No." Peter frowned. "Those guys...they were violent. They would have really hurt me or somebody else. Flash is just a jerk with a big mouth. He's not going to do anything."

"Peter…" Ned began.

"No." Peter looked directly at his phone. "Nobody is telling Mister Carbonell about this. I'm not letting anybody's life and their whole family get ruined just because of mean words. I can handle it. What I can't handle is scorching the earth every time somebody says something out of line."

"It is high school," Ned said slowly. "In four years, like half of our class would be gone."

"Exactly."

Peter's phone pinged again.

"What's JARVIS say?" Ned asked, leaning over.

"He says he will store the interaction but not bring it up to anybody for now. But if the 'verbal abuse,'" Peter made quote-fingers at it, "continues, he'll tell Mister Carbonell."

"Sounds like a fair compromise," Ned said. Then, "You have a fairy godmother AI. Can JARVIS do your homework for you, too?"

Ned's own phone pinged. He pulled it out of his pocket to see a message from a new contact labeled "Peter's Fairy Godmotherboard."

"Such would be unethical."

"Oh my god." Ned thought he might hyperventilate. "JARVIS just texted me."

Peter grinned. "That means he likes you enough to let you talk to him. He's cool."

"Mister JARVIS, sir, you are the coolest," Ned gushed at his phone.

"Just text him," Peter said. "He's probably not listening through yours. Probably. Unless he decided to hack your phone for some reason. He does that."

"So cool."

Peter smiled at him. "I'm...I'm really glad I could finally tell you about all this. It's...it's better being able to share it with you.

"Dude, you have improved my whole life." Ned grinned back. "Thank you for trusting me. I promise I won't let you down on the whole secret thing."

"I know you won't. You never have."

And just like that, Ned's entire day was saved. Flash or no Flash, this year was going to be awesome.

By the time lunch came around, Ned was buzzing with excitement all over again. He had so many good classes, and most of them were with Peter. A few were with Flash, unfortunately, but at least he and Peter had the same lunch period every day. The lunchroom was huge and full of windows, and it kind of reminded Ned of the Avengers Compound — and the fact that he could compare something to the Avengers Compound was a total miracle.

As soon as they had eaten, they ran to the tables to sign up for clubs. Peter was already registered for band, so Ned waited for him to sign up at the robotics table before they made their way to the Academic Decathlon table.

The girl sitting at the table was super pretty, and Ned watched Peter's brain stop as soon as he saw her.

"Hi," she said, tucking some hair behind her ear. "Are you guys thinking about signing up?"

"Yeah," Ned said, since Peter was still figuring out how his face worked. "Is it, like, hard to join?"

"Well, since the whole point is to have the best of the best, you'll have to pass a ton of tests and stuff to see if you place. We had a bunch of seniors graduate already, so there's three spots plus the alternate spot open right now."

"Have a lot of people signed up?" Ned asked.

"Actually, just one." The girl smiled. "Wanna give it a try?"

"Yeah!" Peter said just a little too loudly. "I mean, sure."

"Great!" She slid the clipboard to them. "We'll have a meeting after school tomorrow for placements."

Ned watched Peter write down his name and grade, then took the clipboard from him. As soon as his hands were empty, Peter seemed not to know what to do with them. First he folded them across his chest, then he stuck them in his pockets.

"So, uh, what's your name?" Peter managed to ask.

"Oh!" The pretty girl smiled. "I'm Liz."

"Cool, cool." Peter swallowed. "This is Ned."

"Hi," Ned said, finishing his name on the clipboard and handing it back.

"Hi." She was still waiting on Peter to realize what he hadn't said.

Peter was never going to figure it out on his own, so Ned elbowed him. That jump-started his brain, apparently. "Oh. I'm Peter. Peter Parker. Hi."

"Well, nice to meet you both," Liz said. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you." Ned grabbed Peter and steered him away. "That was so not smooth, Pete."

"I know," Pete whined. "I just…" He sighed. "But she's…"

"Yeah, I get it." Ned smiled. "Just try not to choke when we take the AcaDec test tomorrow or she'll never look at you again."

Peter's look of horror was totally worth it.

Chapter Text

It was a Friday night, a rare one when Pepper could get away from SI for the full evening, and she intended to take advantage of it. It was also a Friday when the Avengers were not on any sort of mission for once, so team dinner had been planned.

Pepper felt herself relaxing even before she'd settled in with the meal and a glass of wine, and that was entirely due to the company around her.

Peter and May were telling Bruce about how the first month of school was going and his newly-earned place on the Academic Decathlon team with Ned. Tony and Steve were arguing about whether or not to make yet more adjustments to Steve's mount for the shield on his uniform. Rhodey and Sam were in charge of setting the table, and somehow this had become a full contact sport.

Thor was off visiting Jane, Vision had chosen to remain at the Compound this week for some research, and Nat and Clint were spending time with Clint's secret family. Pepper was hoping that this would be the visit where Nat would convince Clint to tell the rest of the team about his wife and kids so they could actually meet finally.

She, at least, couldn't imagine not having this wild and wonderful group in her life.

As they settled around the table, Pepper caught Tony's eye and winked. He nodded back.

"So," she opened, deliberately casually. "I know this is kind of out of the blue, but I have a proposal for anyone who is interested."

"Oh?" Rhodey asked. "Tony's been dumped, then?"

"Ha ha." Tony flicked a pea at him. "As if Pep would want to wake up next to your scrawny butt."

"Anyway," Steve said, trying to restore order. "What's going on, Pepper?"

"I need to go to India for at least two weeks, maybe three, as soon as possible. SI has a lot of contracts under negotiation, and there's also a few things I want to look into personally. Happy's going with me, but I was wondering if anybody else wanted to come."

"And I can't," Tony said. "Somebody has to keep the lights on around here if she's gone that long. Plus, you know, Avengers."

"Right," Steve said. "Guess that means no from me, too."

"I've got a series of committee meetings," Rhodey said. "But I might drop by if I can get a couple of days off if that's okay."

"Of course it is." Pepper turned her attention to her real target. She'd softened them up by making it an open invitation; now she would sneak in under their defenses. "I actually was kind of hoping…"

She waited until Bruce looked up. "Huh?"

"SI funds a local free clinic that's having trouble getting organized after the primary doctor and nurse took other positions a month ago. Not that I'd want anybody to come with me just to work, but, if either of you wanted a break," she moved her gaze between Bruce and May, "your experience could really help them out. And after that, we could make a real trip of it."

"Aunt May, you should totally go!" Peter cheered. "You always said that the only thing better than those conferences was when you used to go to other countries and volunteer."

"Well, yes…" May started.

"Bruce, if you want to go," Steve said, flicking the tiniest of winks at Pepper, "we'll be fine without you. Not that we don't appreciate when you're here, but the stuff I've got my sights on in the next couple of months shouldn't warrant a Code Green, and I feel bad about making you just sit around waiting for us all the time."

"No, I don't mind," Bruce was quick to say. But he looked at Pepper and made a sheepish smile. "I'll be honest, that sounds kind of amazing. I was a doctor in India for a while when I was on the run, you know. It was good work. I was proud to do it. And I didn't get to see nearly enough of the country then."

"Oh, you could see as much of it as you want," Tony said. "Volunteer your medical skills one day, private tour of a temple the next, yoga massage the day after." He waved. "Keep Pepper company while she's there and actually get a break from all this for a while."

Bruce smiled. "Count me in, Pepper. And thank you."

Pepper felt the victory prickle under her skin. "You're very welcome. May?"

"That does sound...unbelievably good," May said. "I'm not sure about leaving the hospital, though. I already missed two weeks earlier this year."

"Aw, come on." Peter made a beseeching face at her. "That was a family emergency. Didn't you tell me that they're trying to get people to take more breaks so they don't get burned out?"

"Also," Pepper said, "I'd be happy to make it a condition of another grant to the hospital. That we'd need you to participate with a medical exchange."

"Playing dirty," Sam put in. "I like it."

May looked at Peter. "Sure you'd be okay while I'm gone?"

"He'll be fine," Tony said. "He's got me, remember?"

May nodded and smiled. "Well, then I guess we're going to India."

Under the table, Pepper gave Tony a subtle fist-bump. She did so love negotiating a deal to completion. And now her weeks in India wouldn't be just a slog of company work and being alone in a hotel room. Now she could spend it with family.

After the year they'd had so far, Pepper thought they all deserved the break.

-==OOO==-

Gym class is the literal worst.

Peter wished for the thousandth time that Ned had gym with him. At least Flash wasn't in Peter's gym period either. But that meant he still didn't have anybody to talk to or pair up with, even if he also didn't have to worry about Flash being Flash.

"Okay, listen up," Coach said. "Because we're using the gym for today's career fair, we have two options. Either we can head outside to play dodgeball, or we can stay in here and help with setting up the tables and stuff."

Peter scowled. I was wrong. Dodgeball in gym class is the literal worst.

"Okay, hands up for dodgeball."

Every single person around Peter raised their hands.

"Anybody for helping with setup?"

Peter glanced at his classmates, then raised his hand, finding himself alone in his preference.

Coach was not a man Peter had associated so far with any kind of understanding, but the man looked at him and nodded. "Parker, with your asthma, it might be easier on you to stay in anyway. The fall pollen stuff is pretty bad right now. You okay helping out on your own?"

"Sure," Peter was quick to agree.

"Okay. Everybody else, I'll meet you on the field." The class rushed for the doors and Peter let them flow around him like water. Coach paused. "Just head over to where everybody's working. Let them know I gave you permission, okay?"

"I will. Thanks, Coach," Peter said.

"If you change your mind, you can come join the rest of the class. But no wandering off." And Coach turned in the direction of the storage lockers to grab the balls for the rest of the class.

Peter was beyond content to let him go. He climbed off the bleachers and made his way to the other end of the gym where a combination of teachers he vaguely recognized and people in polo shirts with company names on them were hauling tables and chairs out of a big closet. As soon as he explained to the nearest teacher that he was there to help, he was put in charge of carrying the supplies various sponsors were bringing in and leaving near the exit doors.

For about half an hour, Peter hauled boxes of flyers, brochures, stickers, and other random swag across the gymnasium. He ended up accidentally tag-teaming with a young man who couldn't be long out of college. He wore a green turtleneck without a company name on it and seemed to have come with a lot more stuff than the others.

"I think your booth is going to be the only interesting one," Peter said as he carried a lighted panel for reading x-rays alongside the man. "Everybody else just has, like, folders of stuff."

"Nah, all their good stuff will be here later," the man said. "But I had a long drive and I wanted to be early. First time at one of these?"

"Yeah."

"Nice. Don't worry. By the time you show up after lunch, there's going to be live demos, drones in the air, tons of interactive stuff. Everybody pulls out all the stops for you genius kids."

Peter wondered what SI would send. There was no way Miss Pepper didn't have some representation to attract future potential. He was looking forward to it.

"Hey, kid. I got to run back to the van. Can you do me a favor and start unpacking the orange crates? It's just the poles for the booth."

"Oh, sure." Peter spotted them. They were dusty, like they'd been stored in a basement, but not too big for him to handle. "No problem."

"Thanks."

Peter could tell right away that whoever built these monstrosities was not an engineer. Mister Stark would never let something this convoluted out of his shop. Engineers were supposed to be clever. The container for the poles itself had at least two unnecessary clasps and the hinges on it were already breaking from wear. Once he got it open and started pulling out the parts, he shook his head.

They're trying to make it idiot-proof to set up, but they just made it more unwieldy and unintuitive. Built this way, it needs at least three people and a stepstool. If they'd reversed it and gone corner by corner, Dum-E could have done it on his own.

He was digging around in the bottom of the second orange crate when he felt a sharp pinch on his hand. He drew it out with a hiss of pain.

A huge spider had caught onto his wrist and was currently digging its fangs into his skin.

Peter hated spiders.

"Aaaaahh!" He shouted and shook his hand, but the spider stayed on, latched onto his skin. And it hurt.

"Get off, get off, get off, get off!" Peter looked around for something, anything to use to get rid of it. He didn't want to hit himself in the wrist with a pole, so instead he smashed his arm into the nearest box. He could feel the crunching of the spider's exoskeleton against his skin.

When he pulled his arm back, the spider was still stuck to him, but looking kind of flattened.

"Oh god oh god oh god, get off me you stupid thing!"

Peter flailed his arm against the box a couple more times. He didn't stop until the spider was in many squishy pieces — most of them smeared across his arm and hand.

"So gross." His heart was pounding and Peter had never wanted a shower so badly in his life.

With his arm dripping spider guts, he scuttled away from the orange crates. He spotted a roll of paper towels near where some of the tables were waiting to be cleaned before they were put into use and trotted over to it. He grabbed way too many so he could wipe the mess off himself without having to actually feel the spider bits through the paper towels. By the time he got all the spider remains off, he realized he was bleeding from the bite.

Unfortunately, he also realized there was still one spider mouth-part actually stuck in the bite.

Peter shuddered in horror and used another paper towel to protect himself while he pulled it out, flinching at the pain that bloomed when he finally yanked it free.

If anything, his heart was beating even harder now that the spider was gone. Peter dumped all his paper towels into the nearest garbage can and wrapped another one around his bleeding skin. It seemed...to be bleeding rather a lot, actually.

"Great."

Peter kept a grip on it and returned to where the teachers were now trying to coordinate laying down extension cords.

"Um, excuse me? I got cut. I think I need a bandage." He held up his hand and showed the blood streaming from the bite wound.

"Yeah, you definitely do," the nearest teacher said, looking up. "You know where the nurse's station is?"

Peter nodded.

"All right. Make sure you don't touch anything until he gets a look at you. If you drip in the hallway, you have to let him know so we can clean it up as soon as possible." The teacher gave a small smile. "Thanks for helping out. We'll let Coach know what happened."

Peter tightened his grip on the paper towel and left, focusing on the pressure he was putting on the bite in the hopes that it wouldn't leak anymore. Of course, keeping pressure on it made it hurt so much worse, but at least he wasn't leaving a trail of blood or anything.

By the time he got to the nurse's office, he was starting to feel pretty awful. He wondered if maybe he was allergic to whatever kind of spider that was. That might explain why he was warm and his skin felt tight and his whole arm was throbbing.

It'll be okay. The nurse will have something. I just need to…

Uh oh.

I don't feel so good.

I'm going to…

-==OOO==-

In retrospect, Tony had no idea how he hadn't anticipated that everything would go to pieces.

Pepper, Bruce, and May had been in India for a week, sending regular updates along with pictures and apparently having the time of their lives. Pepper still had meetings, of course, always with Happy in the background hovering like an angry gargoyle. But May and Bruce spent their days alternating between volunteering at the clinic together and going on yoga journeys or meditation tours or...honestly, Tony had started tuning them out. He was glad they – Pepper especially – were all getting some rest, to get their chi on or whatever it was. They all deserved it.

Peter had stayed at the Tower for the weekend, but insisted on sleeping in Queens during the week because there was no chance of him waking himself up in time for school with a commute across the river. Tony could hardly blame the kid; he didn't do mornings, either. If he had to get up at six, he'd just stay up all night working instead.

Tony felt bad about the kid being on his own in the apartment, even with JARVIS watching over him, but Peter pointed out that he was fourteen now and probably more responsible than some kids in college. And Tony agreed because he knew how he'd been in college. Still, he tried to make an effort to show up at least every other evening for dinner and hang-out time just so Peter wasn't completely cut off.

It was Friday afternoon and Tony was back at the Tower working on some of the data they'd gotten from the Mind Stone before its little possession trick when JARVIS interrupted.

"Sir, there is a call inbound for you on the Queens cell phone number."

Tony froze. That number was only used for one purpose. Everyone who knew him called Tony Stark's number, May and Peter included. And the tenants in Queens called a landline that JARVIS would redirect to voicemail and alert him about later.

The only place that should be calling Tony Carbonell was Peter's school.

"Put it through," Tony said, his heart already starting to pound. "Hello?"

An unfamiliar voice answered. "Hi, is this Mister...Caronelley?"

Tony sighed in spite of his worry. "Carbonell. Mario Carbonell. Who's this?"

"I'm calling from the Midtown School of Science and Technology. I understand from our records that you are a legal guardian to a freshman here named Peter Parker?"

"Yes, that's right." Tony was up and moving for the elevator. "Is he okay?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but we were unable to reach his primary emergency contact."

Tony was losing patience. "I know. She's in India, probably asleep. What's wrong with the kid?"

"Peter is running a fever and has been sick to his stomach. He's currently in the nurse's office, but we would prefer someone come pick him up than risk him passing whatever bug he's got onto the rest of the student body."

Well, that wasn't so bad. Peter had the worst luck, though; today was the day all those presenters were coming in to set up booths showcasing various STEM careers and projects to get the kids excited about their future. He'd been looking forward to it for a month.

Not that it matters, Tony thought. Kid's future is right here at SI. No other lab on Earth gets my kid's big brain and bigger heart. Besides, he's more than just a future SI employee.

Not that he knows about the papers I filed last week. God I hope I can hold off on telling him or May until he turns eighteen. He deserves a little more time before he finds out he's inheriting everything.

"I can come pick him up," Tony said, turning his attention back to the phone call. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Sounds good. Please stop by the office on your way so you can sign him out officially."

The elevator hit the garage and Tony strode to the nearest Carbonell-appropriate car. It had JARVIS installed, of course, but from the outside it looked like it would fit right in with everything else at the Queens apartment complex.

"J, how come you didn't let me know Peter was sick?"

"I apologize, sir, but he took his watch off during his physical education class as usual and has not yet put it back on. Additionally, his phone is not in his pocket for likely the same reason. I cannot get an accurate reading of his biometrics from inside his backpack."

"Figures. Fine. Have I got anything on my schedule for the rest of the day?"

"No, sir," JARVIS said. "You already cleared your calendar until Monday so that you and Master Parker would have uninterrupted time in your workshop together."

Tony blinked, easing the car into Manhattan traffic without needing to think about it. "Master Parker, JARVIS? Not 'mister?'"

"No, sir. My protocols are very clear that the official change making Peter Parker your heir should be treated accordingly. The appropriate title from myself to your heir can only be 'Master Parker' or 'young Sir' until he reaches the age of eighteen."

Tony didn't remember programming that, but he remembered the original Jarvis using it. He'd been 'Master Stark' — or 'Master Anthony' before the age of ten — until he had turned eighteen. After that, Jarvis called him 'Mister Stark' just as he had Tony's father. It had always made him feel special, knowing that the title was for him and not other kids his age who were just plain 'mister' or 'miss' like any adult.

It warmed his heart to think about the original Jarvis. He wished the man had lived to meet Peter and call him that, too.

"Geez, J, you're going to give away the surprise." Tony shook his head, hoping to clear the reminiscing with it. "If I order you to call him what you've always called him, can you amend the protocols?"

"I can, yes."

"On the other hand." Tony found himself smiling. "Peter's a little bit dense about this stuff. Tell you what. If you call him 'master' in his hearing and he doesn't notice, keep doing it. See if we can ease him into it. But if he responds to it in any way, verbal or nonverbal, amend the protocols and continue to use 'mister' until I tell you otherwise."

"Very good, sir. Do you have a preference for moments when he cannot hear me, as now?"

"I kinda like the 'master' thing, honestly," Tony said. "That's...if I had a kid, that would be your default, right?"

"Indeed."

"Then it's overdue for Peter. He's been my kid since the beginning, J. Pretty slow of you to wait until I put SI in his name to figure it out." He waggled his finger in the direction of the nearest sensor.

"This is a letter-of-the-law sort of distinction rather than a sentimental one, sir. However, I apologize for not anticipating your whim regarding the young Sir."

"You're forgiven. Anyway. Once I get him in the car, I want a full scan. I'll probably bring him back to the Tower anyway, but if this is anything worse than a stomach bug, I want to know right away."

"Understood."

By the time Tony reached the school, he had also gotten somebody to make sure the penthouse kitchen was stocked with queasy-tummy-appropriate food and drinks, and he had warned off the Avengers from dropping by. Even if Steve's super immune system could probably handle whatever it was, Tony didn't want him hovering over the kid. Ever since the Mind Stone, there had been a lot of hovering, and Tony could tell Peter was tired of it.

He resolved to be as relaxed as possible about this. Peter had been through enough — he wouldn't want more fuss just because he was unlucky enough to catch something from a classmate.

Tony made sure his sunglasses were firmly in place. They, plus a ballcap, helped meld Tony Stark into Tony Carbonell who was obviously copying a famous billionaire's style. He also pulled a ratty sweatshirt from the back seat on over his t-shirt, and the stained lab jeans made him look like a guy who had just been working on cars. Which, in fact, he had been doing earlier.

But the disguise still worked; most people who saw Tony Stark saw pristine suits or designer jeans and rarely thought about him having grease under his nails.

He parked in a visitor spot and strode up into the building. There was a sign just inside pointing to the office. The hallways were empty — probably all the kids were in the classrooms doing their best to become the next generation of science and tech rockstars.

Tony tried not to be smug about the fact that his kid would blow them all out of the water and pushed open the door to the office.

"Hi, somebody called me about Peter Parker? I'm Mario Carbonell."

The lady sitting behind the desk nodded, pulling up an entry on her computer without even looking up. "I just need to see some ID to have you sign him out."

Tony pulled out the Carbonell fake license — a very good fake put together by SHIELD, thank you very much — and handed it over. The woman only glanced at him for a second, more intent on matching the information on his card to what she had in the computer. She handed it back and held out a clipboard.

"Sign here, please."

Tony let her hold it while he signed a messy scrawl that didn't actually look that different from his normal signature except for the random looping he put at the end. It made his name look ridiculous. He kind of loved it.

Maybe I should start adding extra letters or equations when I sign things normally.

Except Pepper might kill me.

I'll just do it for SHIELD. Fury's a lot less scary.

"The nurse's office is down the hall to the left," she said, putting the clipboard away. "You can go yourself or we can have him meet you here."

"No, I'll go find him. Thanks." Tony wasn't going to make Peter walk anywhere without help if he felt that bad.

"Have a nice day."

Tony wasn't sure he'd been dismissed that hard by a secretary since that one he'd actually gotten confused for her sister. To this day he still didn't know which one he'd slept with and which one he hadn't. On the other hand, in a school of kids probably smarter than most adults, that kind of unflappable disdain was probably a requirement. It might even be in the literal job description.

The hallways were lined with bright posters about everything from student government to club activities to what to do during active shooter drills. The latter set made a shiver run down Tony's spine. He sent a quick text to JARVIS to do a full security audit of the school and identify any gaps. An anonymous donation would quickly follow. But he put that out of his mind to focus on his sick kid.

Tony found the nurse's office and tapped at the door before opening. "Hey, I'm here to pick up…"

All of Tony's ease — and his resolution not to fuss — vanished.

"God, kid, what the hell?" In two long strides, he was at the side of the little cot.

"Excuse me, are you Peter's guardian?" asked the school nurse. He looked profoundly uncomfortable, in fact.

"Yeah, I am." Tony bet the guy was not used to kids looking like this when their parents showed up.

Peter was lying on the cot with his eyes shut, and he hadn't even flinched or moved at Tony's voice. His face was pale, his lips bloodless. Even his eyelids looked gray. His hair was damp and darkened by the sweat that Tony could see breaking out on every inch of skin, and he was visibly shivering. Next to the bed, Tony could see a bucket containing evidence of Peter's stomach bug, but it didn't smell right. Tony had a lot of experience with vomit — his own and other people's, unfortunately — and something about it was just...off.

He also noticed that there was a thick white bandage wrapped around Peter's hand.

"What happened there?" he asked, pointing.

"Oh, I'm not sure," the nurse said. "When he came in, it was bleeding pretty heavily. I thought he might have cut it if he lost his balance when he got dizzy."

"Lordy, kid." Tony brushed a hand over Peter's forehead and his alarm only increased at the heat coming off him. "What's his temperature?"

"He was right around 101 when he got here. I haven't checked it since we called you."

I will not fire this man, but only because he doesn't work for me. And I will not chew him out for not getting off his butt to help my kid. Not today, anyway. Peter comes first.

But later, Nurse Apathy, I'm going to enjoy making you rethink your life choices.

"Underoos? You in there?" Tony put a hand on Peter's shoulder and gave it a light shake. "We're gonna head out if you can wake up enough."

"Hrrrm," Peter said intelligently.

"Yeah, that's a start." Tony got an arm under Peter's back and eased him into a sitting position. Peter was wearing his gym t-shirt and it stuck to him, soaked from sweat. "Come on, kiddo. Up and at 'em."

"M...mister…"

"Yep, good old Mario Carbonell at your service," Tony said, hoping the kid's brains weren't so fevered that he would miss the hint.

Peter nodded and blinked his eyes open. "Hi," he said, and his voice was hoarse.

"Sorry you're feeling so bad, bud. Think you can make it out of here?"

Tony was actually starting to worry about that. Peter's shivering only grew as he peeled his hands off the bed, and his eyes, barely open, were glassy.

If he can't walk to the car, I'm calling the evac suit and we'll deal with the fallout afterwards.

"Yeah," Peter said, shakily. He pulled his knees up and rubbed at his face. "Where's my…?"

The nurse gestured to Peter's backpack on the floor on the other side of the bed. Without letting go of Peter in case he decided to keel over — and he looked like he might — Tony snagged it and put it on to keep both his hands free for Peter.

"Got it. We're good to go whenever you are." He lowered his voice. "Take it easy, Pete. You don't look too hot right now."

"Feel worse," Peter said. Tony believed it.

"Okay. Let's try for some standing. And if you gotta hurl, make sure you don't hit me."

He felt more than heard Peter's chuckle at that. Then there was a wheezy gasp as Peter shifted his feet to the floor and stood, Tony's arm locked around his waist to hold him. He swayed dangerously, and Tony could feel from his shaking that Peter wouldn't be upright at all without Tony's considerable strength supporting him. But, somehow, Peter managed to stumble forward, and they shuffled out of the nurse's office without even saying goodbye.

"Kid, why didn't you call me?" Tony asked as soon as they were in the hall. "Or JARVIS?"

"Didn't...it wasn't…" Peter let out a breath. "It got worse."

"Well, if it keeps getting worse, you're getting a ride in something faster than a car."

Against him, Peter's chest constricted as if he had chuckled without a sound. "Secret identity?"

"I'd burn it in a heartbeat and you know it. Now, one foot at a time, mini me." He steered Peter carefully, praying classes wouldn't let out and flood the hallway with a million people to navigate around. "You know what this is? This is karma for all the times Rhodey had to haul my drunken ass around."

"Not drunk," Peter said. If anything, his skin was getting clammier and paler.

"Honestly, I'd rather that. At least it would be normal. You don't do anything halfway, do you, Parker?"

"Parker luck."

"Then I'm changing your name. I've decided." He glanced around, but they were still alone. "Peter Stark has a nice ring to it. And then maybe we'll get you some better luck with the package. Two for one deal."

"Do I get...a say in it?"

"Nope." But Tony couldn't help smiling. Even feeling probably worse than he was letting on, Peter's sense of humor shone through.

The doors of the school were an adventure — there wasn't an easy way to push them open and hold them without Tony giving up some amount of stability for Peter, and that was definitely going to end with the kid hitting the ground head first. Tony ended up just telling JARVIS to activate the wheelchair accessibility button to get them open so he didn't have to risk even a second of letting go.

Then the stairs were an adventure and a half as Peter's sense of balance went completely out the window. By the time Tony realized he should have taken him down the handicap ramp instead, they were committed to the hard way.

"Never been so glad you weigh nothing, Underoos," Tony said under his breath. He would have scooped the kid up into his arms, but he was worried about one or both of them tipping past the point of no return and a concussion wasn't going to help their situation. Peter was still a stick-skinny kid, but he was taller now with the gangly limbs of teenagerdom.

"Not...that small," Peter tried to protest.

"Just a lightweight." Tony basically pinned Peter against his side and got most of the kid's weight centered over his hip. Walking was awkward as crap, and without the muscles born of years of combat, flying suits, and building things with his own two hands, he wouldn't have been able to manage it. Finally they reached the car and Tony all but dumped Peter into the passenger side that JARVIS helpfully opened for them.

As soon as Tony dropped into the driver's seat, he told JARVIS to get to the Tower as fast as possible without inciting any bored police officers to chase them.

"Very good, sir."

"Gimme the scan of Peter while you drive." Tony didn't bother with his seat-belt until he got Peter's around him, even as the car was already pulling out of the parking lot. Peter's head hung down and his eyes were shut. "You still with me, kid?"

"Yeah."

Tony shifted in his own seat so he could put an arm around Peter's shoulders, giving his head something to lean on. The heat from Peter's body rolled into him like a storm front.

"Master Parker is currently suffering from a temperature above one-hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit," JARVIS reported. "Additionally, I am reading unusual movements in his digestive system indicative of a great deal of gastrointestinal distress."

"Yep, could have guessed that," Tony said. "Other than that, anything amiss?"

"Sir." There was a hesitation there that made Tony's throat go dry. "I am also detecting a faint but measurable radioactive signature. One that far exceeds normal scans or any background radioactivity."

"Radio…" Tony's anxiety skyrocketed. "Are we looking at radiation poisoning here, J?"

"It is...a distinct possibility, sir." Another pause. "Also, the injury to young Sir's hand is continuing to bleed with little sign of coagulation."

Tony looked down at the hand in Peter's lap. Sure enough, the white bandages were reddening rapidly.

"JARVIS," Tony said, trying to keep his voice even, "is Peter stable enough for the evac suit?"

"I would not recommend it, sir. In the case of acute nausea, the helmet of the evac suit may cause aspiration."

Tony swore. "Okay. Then forget the speed limits. Get us to the Compound literally as fast as this car can go and warn SHIELD to prep the medical suite."

The car accelerated to speeds well beyond the posted limits, racing down the highway towards the northern suburbs.

"Shall I inform the Avengers as well? Or Missus Parker and Miss Potts and Doctor Banner?"

"No," Peter croaked. "No...please."

"Peter," Tony began.

"No." And Peter raised his head and met Tony's eyes with as much force as he'd seen from him yet. "Not unless...it's really something bad. Don't...they're happy."

"Oh my god." Tony pressed a kiss to the burning head leaning on his arm. "Someday that selfless streak is going to get you really hurt, figlio."

"Maybe." Peter shivered. "But not today."

Tony was not so sure.

Chapter Text

Over the course of his military career, Rhodey had tried — pretty successfully, if he did say so himself — not to take advantage of his position. Being the official liaison to Stark Industries in the time of weapons manufacturing had made Rhodey far more influential than his rank of colonel ever could, opening doors and earning him allies up and down the chain of command. After Tony dissolved the weapons division of SI, Rhodey's star had fallen a little, but the debut of Iron Man and then War Machine had shot it back into the sky higher than before.

Now, as a part-time Avenger, wearing one of Tony's suits, and with the rescue of President Ellis and the defeat of Aldrich Killian to his name, Rhodey might not have the official rank to tell people to go to hell, but he absolutely did so when necessary. He just did it very politely and added a "general, sir" onto the end of it as needed. He was always careful to toe the line just short of insubordination, and to pick his battles. By not requesting leave every time the Avengers went on a mission, he had earned some leeway when things came up that did matter.

Like today.

Rhodey was pretty sure Tony still didn't know about the Big Brother protocol he had cooked up with JARVIS long before Afghanistan and Iron Man. JARVIS himself had written it, implementing it when Rhodey was present to use his access to approve the installation.

(Which helped, because Rhodey was a pilot first and a computer programmer somewhere below being a professional Tony-wrangler.)

The Big Brother protocol he and JARVIS created was primarily a way for JARVIS to justify letting Rhodey know when something happened to Tony. The "something" had been left undefined deliberately, open to interpretation. JARVIS had used it to alert Rhodey when Tony was badly intoxicated, when he hadn't slept in a week, and later when he came home from Iron Man missions with injuries. Anything Tony didn't specifically forbid JARVIS to report — like the palladium poisoning — was fair game.

For the most part over the years, Rhodey had used it just to keep an eye on the genius little brother he'd adopted a lifetime ago. Sometimes it warranted a visit or a call, but mostly he just thanked JARVIS and let Tony find his own way. Rhodey understood that Tony had his pride and wasn't easily coddled; but Tony was also his best friend and brother, and Rhodey was determined to be there for him, for life, no matter what.

In the last couple of years, the Big Brother protocol had gained a secondary function after a late-night discussion between Rhodey and JARVIS. Now, there were two kinds of alerts.

One would be prefaced with "Big Brother Alert" and the other with "Big Brother Moment." The former were still for times things went wrong or Tony needed help. The latter were specific to when JARVIS had a really good still image or video of Tony being adorable with Peter.

Rhodey really hoped Tony never found out about those Moments being shared because he would absolutely hate it. But a regular infusion of pictures of the kid and Tony being happy, or watching movies with identical delighted expressions, or laughing uproariously at the bots — it all made Rhodey's most dreary assignments and tours abroad pass more quickly.

And JARVIS was a genuine bro about it, smart enough to send more Moments when Rhodey had been away longer, or was dealing with too many politicians who pretended to care about soldiers. The week he'd been working with a particular military contractor and a Senator who made speeches about "support for the troops" while denying military benefits and trying to push veterans' funds to the contractor's bottom line, JARVIS had sent almost hourly updates just to keep Rhodey sane.

So today, when his phone pinged while he was between meetings in DC, he fully expected to open it and find something cute.

He did not expect the brief text message.

"Big Brother Alert. Master Parker has taken ill with possible radiation poisoning and is being treated at the Compound. Sir in distress. Request immediate support."

Rhodey almost dropped his phone. Then, just as quickly, he gathered himself. He charged across the building to where his military aide of the day was already getting ready for the next set of interviews.

"I have to go," he said, ignoring the look of surprise and scanning his hand on the storage case for his armor. "Cancel or reschedule everything."

"Sir?" the woman asked. She was calm, if taken aback. "Some of these meetings have been planned for months."

"Don't care," Rhodey said, stepping back to let the case open and the Iron Patriot armor step towards him. "Tell the general that I'm calling in a marker. He'll understand. Sorry for messing up your day."

"I'll take care of it, sir." She actually snapped a salute, which wasn't strictly necessary. "Godspeed, colonel."

The armor closed around him, and Rhodey only barely waited for the window to open fully before he blasted into the sky.

"JARVIS, set course for the Compound. And what the hell is going on with Peter?"

"I am afraid we have very little information," JARVIS said, correcting the suit's trajectory automatically. "Sir was summoned to Master Parker's school because he was ill, but upon arrival, it became obvious that the symptoms were more severe than a simple virus. I registered a measurable amount of radiation in my scans of young Sir."

"How did Peter get exposed to radiation at school?" Rhodey wanted to know.

"I am unsure. I have been reviewing security footage from in and around the school, but have yet to identify any source that could be responsible. Whatever the origin of the radiation, it appears to have been highly localized as no other students are currently reporting symptoms."

"How's the kid doing?"

"Master Parker vomited while at school, but has not since."

Rhodey sucked in a breath. He knew that the sooner after radiation exposure a person vomited, the more severe — and potentially fatal — the level of radiation. If Peter had thrown up within an hour of whatever happened...that was a really, really bad sign.

"Any other symptoms?" he whispered, barely able to ask.

"Fever, fatigue, and decreased blood clotting as evidenced by a wound to his hand."

"JARVIS." Rhodey fought down his own emotions. "Does Tony...does he know?"

"That Master Parker's symptoms are indicative of an exposure at the level of six to eight grays?" Even to Rhodey's ears, JARVIS sounded upset. "I believe he possesses the knowledge, but he is not currently accepting its veracity."

"What are the kid's chances to pull through?"

"According to available medical research, Master Parker has at best a fifty percent survival rate, assuming ideal conditions and aggressive treatment."

Rhodey felt tears on his cheeks. "And if he doesn't...How much time does Peter have?"

"Two to four weeks is the average survivability," JARVIS said, "but deterioration will progress exponentially."

Rhodey squeezed his eyes shut. "Who else knows?"

"Master Parker has requested that Miss Potts, Missus Parker, and Doctor Banner not be informed until the diagnosis is official and Sir has agreed. Otherwise, the resident Avengers are aware."

"Okay." Rhodey forced himself to take a deep breath, slowly, willing his racing heart to slow. He needed to be rational. He needed to think.

God knows Tony won't be able to right now.

"JARVIS, can we get Thor to ask Odin or even Loki for help again? They like him and might be willing to come back. Maybe there's something Asgardian they can do for him."

"Prince Thor has already left to make such a request. Sir is also working through all of Howard Stark's notes on radiation as well as Doctor Banner's research."

"Yeah, but we might need something faster than that." Rhodey wracked his brain. "What about Helen Cho? Is her Cradle rebuilt yet?"

"Unfortunately, it is not."

"Damn. Can you think of anybody else you trust enough to let know about Peter?"

"Might I suggest that you consider including the scientists of SHIELD who regularly work with Doctor Banner? For the moment, Sir has requested to keep the information limited to the medical personnel at the Compound."

Rhodey weighed secrecy versus urgency for a moment. "Ask Nat and Clint. If they give the okay, then yes. The thing about radiation poisoning is that it's a race. The sooner we have something, the better chance Peter walks away."

He did not think about what the future might hold, though. He knew that exposure less than what JARVIS was estimating for Peter tended to breed nasty cancers not too far down the line. Even if they got Peter through the next month, he might have a lifespan shorter than Rhodey's own even without being a combat pilot. But that was a problem for later. They needed to get Peter to the point of recovery before they worried about long-term prognosis.

"Mister Barton suggests we give the information directly to Agent Maria Hill and trust to her discretion," JARVIS said.

"Yeah, do that," he agreed.

But, even as he said it, he already knew better. Without the Regeneration Cradle, there really wasn't any technology or medicine on the planet that could fight the power of the atom and its horrific effects on the human body. A full marrow transplant might do it, but even that could kill Peter, either the trauma of oblating his existing marrow or any illness he picked up in the interim — assuming they could even find a match for the kid given that he was an orphan.

At this point, Peter's best hope was Asgardian magic again.

No. Peter's best hope is Tony Stark.

Rhodey let determination and trust fill him up, leaving no room for grief.

Tony invented a new element to save himself from palladium. He built a body for the Mind Stone. If there is any way to save Peter, he'll find it. He's the most brilliant person on the planet and has every reason to succeed.

I just have to help him do it.

When he landed at the Compound a matter of minutes later, Rhodey was ready.

He marched into the medical facility, his head up and his face calm. People were rushing around, but quietly, their faces pitying. By the time he reached the right room, it took everything he had to shake off the gloomy pall that had fallen over everyone he met on the way.

Rhodey refused to join them in hopelessness.

He tapped on the door, then pushed it open. "Hey, guys."

Peter was sitting propped up on a bed, looking pale, but alert. He had several different IVs attached to him, at least one of which was clearly a blood transfusion. He looked uncomfortable, but that could have been the multitude of wires stuck to him along with the stents and bags of fluids.

The most important thing was that Peter didn't look openly afraid.

If that means he doesn't fully realize what's happening, I'm glad, Rhodey thought. If it means he's trying to be strong for Tony, I guess I'm glad of that, too. Knowing him, it's the latter more than the former.

Next to him, Tony was a mess.

Oh, Rhodey knew that most people probably wouldn't have been able to tell. Tony had his Stark-Men-Are-Made-of-Iron look dialed up to eleven, probably for Peter's sake as well as not wanting to face the reality himself. Most people who looked even closely would see Tony being calm, collected, even a little detached. Those people didn't know anything.

Rhodey had known Tony for most of his life. He'd known the gangly, awkward, too-smart kid at MIT, angry and desperate to prove himself and frightfully alone. He'd known the heir of Stark Industries, too young and grieving and even more alone, and still trying to step into shoes he was afraid to fill. He'd known the man before Afghanistan, cocky and too powerful and utterly disillusioned with the world and also somehow impossibly naive about most things. He'd known the man after Afghanistan, hurting and raw, but driven in a way he'd rarely been, filled with righteous purpose and furious resolve. He'd known the man after the Chitauri, overwhelmed at the nearness to failure and struggling to cope in a universe made too big with a tiny planet hanging in the balance.

And he'd known the man who lived a double life as Tony Carbonell. And that was a man full of love and kindness, a man who discovered the courage to really care for others, who didn't hide his enormous heart behind barbed wire and walls a million feet thick. A man who could embrace the family he had built, the people who would be there for him whether or not he wanted them, who could turn all the fire of Iron Man and the power of the Stark name into a force to push the world until it was a place safe enough for all he loved.

So even though Tony was doing his best to be stoic and aloof and cool, Rhodey saw the heartbreak. So much worse than a few scant months before with the Mind Stone. Because that had been an unknown with an answer almost as soon as they understood the problem.

This...this was known. Tony could probably recite the statistics, if he dared, about mortality and exposure. He could chart radiation dose effects on a line as predictable as a sine wave. This was the physics of the atom and the frailty of the human body, and Tony knew both all too well.

Tony was already in mourning. Because Peter could already be dying.

"Joining the party?" Tony asked him, trying so hard to control his expressions that he didn't even look surprised to see Rhodey.

"Well, I happened to be in the area and a little birdy said somebody wasn't feeling great," he said.

"Oh. Sorry," Peter said, immediately apologizing. "You didn't have to come visit if you were doing something important."

"Don't worry about that. You feeling okay, kiddo?" Rhodey asked, easing into the room.

"Yeah, a lot better than before," Peter said, moving his arms carefully. "Something in all this is helping a lot."

Rhodey managed to huff a laugh. "Think you got enough needles in you? I'm sure we could find some more."

Peter shook his head hard. "No, thank you!"

"Hmm." Rhodey looked at him, then Tony. "Either of you eaten lunch yet?"

"No," Peter said. "I got sick during gym so I missed lunch. I'm not sure I'm allowed to eat, though."

"We can ask the nurses," Rhodey said. "But Tony, you've got no excuse. Did you eat breakfast?"

"Oh, I was supposed to remind you!" Peter said. "I'm sorry I forgot."

"Not your fault, buddy," Tony said, squeezing the kid's knee.

"Did you eat breakfast, Mister Stark?"

Rhodey didn't even bother to look at Tony's face for the answer. "He definitely didn't, Pete. Mind if I steal him and get some food in him?"

"I'm not leaving," and Tony meant it to sound light but it came out sharp instead.

"I'm fine, Mister Stark," Peter said, his smile so full of light it made Rhodey's whole heart constrict to a point of pain. "Colonel Rhodes, please make him eat something. Then you can bring me back jello or whatever they'll let me have."

God bless you for conspiring against him with me, kiddo. I know you're hurting, too, but I can only help one of you at a time and it's pretty clear which one of you is about to collapse.

But I promise you'll get your turn, too. Once I get Tony back into gear so he can fix you.

"Sounds like a plan." Rhodey reached down and hooked a hand under Tony's arm. "Come on, Tones. Listen to the kid. He's smarter than you."

Tony turned his full attention on Rhodey and, for a moment, the mask broke and Rhodey saw raw, animalistic rage. But it vanished just as quickly, and suddenly Tony just looked very tired.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" he asked, his head downturned.

"Nope!" Rhodey put cheer into it, because it was either that or give in, and somebody had to be strong for them both.

"Really, Mister Stark. I've got JARVIS to keep me company, and now that I'm feeling better, I'll probably just watch a movie until you get back. Okay?"

Tony let out a long, painful breath. Then he rose slowly from the chair. He didn't shake off Rhodey's grip, but he ignored it to lean forward. He pressed a kiss to the top of Peter's head, which Peter endured with an expression of fond teenage exasperation.

"Call me if you feel anything, okay?" Tony whispered.

"I will, I promise."

Rhodey pulled Tony out of the room and down the hall just quick enough that Peter didn't see the tears in Tony's eyes begin to overflow.

"I got you," Rhodey whispered to him, guiding him away from the medical suites and to the nearest elevator. "JARVIS, get us to his private quarters. Nobody's there, right?"

"Sir's quarters are indeed vacant, colonel."

Tony's forehead was heavy on Rhodey's shoulder, and he felt silent tears wetting his uniform jacket that he hadn't even bothered to remove. He held Tony as tightly as he could without bruising him. As soon as the elevator opened, Rhodey pulled Tony until he could sit him on the nearest couch.

"Rho…" Tony's voice cracked.

"I know. JARVIS told me everything. Just...it's okay to let it out now. Peter won't see it."

The man who collapsed as if his strings were cut was a double of the kid who had done the same when his parents died decades before. And, just as then, Rhodey held on.

Honestly, Rhodey didn't love as many people as Tony did. He believed in his service, in protecting the nation and the planet from harm. He cared about people. But he was more selfish than Tony and he knew that. There was nothing wrong with it. Tony could use a little more selfishness, in Rhodey's opinion, at least when it came to taking care of everything else before himself.

But Rhodey did love Tony like a brother, and he loved Peter like a nephew.

So he held Tony through the storm and let himself break a little, too.

-==OOO==-

"Damn." Sam ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Kid really can't catch a break, can he?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't know. It's just...I'm worried about how it happened, too. You know? Not just...what's going to happen to Peter."

"You're thinking he's the first and we might have a whole high school of sick kids?" Sam asked, eyebrows going up.

"I mean, either that or…" Steve swallowed. "Sam, what if somebody targeted Peter directly? The way Hydra did when we were in DC?"

Sam felt sick to his stomach. "Is there any intel that points to that?"

"Not yet." Steve shook his head. "I sent Nat and Clint to check it out, though. If there's anything to find, they'll find it."

Sam patted Steve on the shoulder. "And it gives them something to do."

Steve looked away.

There was a reason Sam had chosen to follow Steve, even before he knew him as well as he did now. Steve was a tactician, seeing angles and dimensions and rotating them in his head until he could plot a course through a situation like a ship through dangerous waters. But it wasn't just that he could do it on a battlefield. When he was paying attention, he could do it with people, too.

(That when he was paying attention thing was something Sam knew Steve had to work on, though. He had a blind spot the size of a Mack truck sometimes, too. But that's what Sam was here for.)

Like today. At first, Tony had let the Avengers know that Peter was sick and coming back to the Tower with a stomach flu, and they'd all agreed to make themselves scarce at his request. Then that request turned into an alert and Tony was bringing the kid to the Compound and sending vitals ahead via JARVIS that suggested...well.

Suffice it to say, the entire Avengers group had raced to the Compound after him as fast as their cars could go. But it still seemed so unreal until they arrived and one of the SHIELD doctors came up to the common room to give them the context around JARVIS's careful explanations.

Sam had been in the room when the words "potentially fatal levels of radiation exposure" were said aloud.

He still didn't know where Vision had gone or what he was doing. The guy was hard to read, didn't emote very often, but clearly cared. Sam was making a concerted effort to get to know him, but it was slow going. Vision had phased through the floor at once and hadn't been seen since. Sam hoped he was okay, but he had other, more emotionally destructive teammates to deal with, first.

Nat and Clint had reacted outwardly in totally opposite ways, which told Sam that they had the same internal devastation. Nat had gone cold and remote, fiercely placid; Clint had sworn, thrown the nearest object to hand into a wall, and immediately picked a verbal fight with Steve. Sam understood them both — they liked the kid for different reasons and in different ways, but profoundly. Clint seemed like a big brother or uncle around Peter, a guiding presence who knew when to tease and when to back off. Nat was more chill in general, but she also tended to take pride in Peter when he showed up the big boys with his smarts or put them off-balance with his kindness. Sam was pretty sure Nat didn't have a lot of practice loving children, but in her way, she loved him very much.

For that reason, giving them something to do, something productive, an enemy to hunt, was the kindest thing Steve could do for them. Neither would do well with sitting around fretting, and the distraction and focus of a mission would help them process the early panic of grief so they could come back to it when they were ready.

Thor's response had been anger, and if there had been a definite threat instead of a maybe-threat, he would have happily hit as many things as he could find with Mjolnir. But instead, he had immediately summoned the Bifrost so he could ask Odin and Loki for help back in Asgard.

Sam was worried about Steve, though.

"You know none of this is your fault, right?" Sam asked, looking at Steve until the man met his eyes.

"Of course it's not," Steve said, and Sam didn't buy it for a second.

"Try again."

"It's not. I mean...it's probably a freak accident, right?"

"Yeah…" Sam trailed off and waited.

"But...if it isn't." Steve had an amazing ability to shrink into himself — impressive for a guy that big. "If this is Hydra, then the reason they ever went after Peter and May the first time was because of me. I don't know what Nat and Clint put in their reports, but I know what I put in mine. It's...if I said more than they did, it's possible Hydra learned about the Parkers because of me."

"So what if they did?" Sam challenged back. "I mean, sure, they could have gotten the info from literally following Stark around. But even if they did get the info from you, how do their choices hang on your shoulders?"

Steve frowned at him. "Sam…"

"Nope, not gonna let you do it." Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And I don't think that's what's really bothering you. It's just a convenient excuse. So drop it." He softened his tone. "It's okay to be upset by this. But don't play this game with me, Cap. Tell me the truth."

Steve's blue eyes shattered just a little. "I just...I don't...I like the kid. He doesn't deserve this. And Tony doesn't deserve this. I'm just…"

Steve bunched his hands into fists, and his shoulders shook.

"I'm sick of seeing bad things happen to good people!" It burst out of him, the least controlled Sam had seen Steve in months. "What good is being an Avenger if we can't even protect the people who deserve to be protected?"

"You don't just mean Peter and Tony," Sam said gently.

Steve shook his head. "No. I wish I did, and I do...I mean, I'm not…"

Sam interrupted before Steve could cycle himself into oblivion. "It's okay to feel lots of different things about this one."

The anger drained out of Steve as fast as it had come. "Peter's been hurt so many times and I literally have never met a kid who deserved it less. Tony's been hurt over and over again. Bucky's out there somewhere and god knows what he's been through or what he's going through now. Even Loki…" Steve shut his eyes. "And I can't stop any of it."

Sam gave Steve a moment to breathe before he spoke.

"There's something Tony's said a couple of times. Says he got it from the Parkers. About how you can't prevent things before they go wrong. You have to handle them when they go wrong and fix them after. You heard that one?"

Steve nodded.

"Okay. Then I need you to hear this, Steve Rogers. Because you can't protect everybody, no matter how much you love them or how much you think they deserve it. Bad things are going to happen, and there might not be a damn thing you can do about it. And none of that is your fault. None of that makes you a failure."

"But I feel like one."

Sam shook his head. "Then do the thing you can do right now. You couldn't prevent what happened to Peter, but you can sure as hell be there for him and Tony right now. You can make sure, if there is something to avenge here, that we avenge it into little pieces. You can help me keep the team together, especially when Bruce and May and Pepper find out. Because they're going to need us."

Steve looked at him, oddly young. "How do you…?"

"You're a leader," Sam said, understanding the question. "And that means more than first-in, last-out on a mission. It means, in the end, if every single person falls down, you keep standing. It means no matter what tears everyone apart, you hold together. Because they look to you, and you have to give them something to hold onto when everything else is gone."

Steve let out a long breath and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Thanks, Sam."

"That's what friends are for," Sam said. "I don't envy you. Leading a family through grief is about the hardest thing anybody can do. But you can do it. Quit thinking about whose fault it is and keep people going forward. The rest will just take time."

Steve swallowed. When he raised his head, he looked like the person Sam would always follow.

"I know JARVIS said Peter didn't want anyone to call the others, but...I think we should."

Sam didn't smile, but he nodded. "Tell me why."

"Because they deserve to know. If...if his time is short, they deserve as much of it with him as they can get. And...they'll be the ones who have to live with knowing what they missed."

"Even if it hurts Peter that you went behind his back?" Sam asked, not pushing in either direction, but pointing out the alternative. "If the last thing you do for him is go against his wishes?"

Steve sighed. "But if it's for his own good…"

"Is it? Or is it for yours?" Sam held up his open hands. "I'm just asking."

If anything, that drove Steve back and he looked more upset than ever. Sam could feel the misstep he'd made, even if he didn't know why. So all he could do was fix it.

"Tell you what. Talk to him about it first. If you can convince him to let you call them, then you really will be doing what's best for him. If you can't, you always have the choice to do it behind his back anyway."

Steve nodded and squared his shoulders. "Will you come with me?"

Sam could understand that. He didn't really want to face Peter without support, either. Not knowing that his days could be numbered, and that they might be filled with suffering. Sam was dreading with every bone in his body having to see those bright brown eyes dull with despair.

Dying was always hard on everyone, including those who could only stand by. Nobody should have to face either side of the equation alone.

"Yeah," Sam said. "But let's make sure Tony's okay with it first."

"Okay."

Steve moved over to the kitchen and splashed some cold water on his face. He took several deep breaths. Sam just waited.

"JARVIS?" Steve asked finally. "Is now an okay time for us to come see Peter and Tony?"

"Forgive me, but I believe you must wait another half hour or so, captain."

"Can I ask why?" Sam wanted to know.

"Certainly. Master Parker is currently undergoing a thorough scan in order to determine if the source of radiation can be identified. It requires isolation and a great deal of stillness."

"You mean if it was something he ate?" Steve asked. "Or if it was on his clothes?"

"Precisely. Any information relating to the vector of exposure may help in identifying if others are at risk or how strong the actual dose received by the young Sir was."

"Okay," Steve said. "When you have the results of the scan, please send them to Nat and Clint so they can incorporate that into their own search of the school. In the meantime, let us know when it's over and he's settled again and we'll come down."

"Very well, captain."

Steve tried to pass the time by looking over SHIELD files for another mission, but ultimately had to give up because he couldn't focus. Sam eventually cajoled him into going running around the building, and the brisk October air did a lot to clear both their heads.

But when they came back in and realized that two hours had gone by and JARVIS hadn't yet summoned them down to the medical area, they both got worried.

"JARVIS?" Sam asked partway through the third hour of waiting. "What's going on downstairs?"

"My apologies, Mister Wilson, captain. Events have taken an unexpected turn and more tests are required."

Steve looked up in alarm. "Is Peter getting worse?"

"No, captain. That is what is unexpected." He paused. "Sir has said you may join him if you wish. He is no longer averse to additional company."

Sam was pretty sure Steve broke the land speed record getting to the elevator.

On the medical level, people were moving about rapidly, but what Sam noticed was their expressions: surprise, relief, excitement. He followed Sam down the hall to where one room's door stood open. Voices floated out into the hallway, warm and surprisingly cheerful.

Steve tapped on the doorframe. "You mind some visitors?" he asked gently.

"Come on in," Tony said.

Sam moved around Steve, finding himself next to Rhodey on the opposite side of the bed. Peter was hooked up to five different IVs, it seemed, and was covered with diodes and sensors. But his eyes were bright and his face had good color.

"Hi Captain Rogers. Hi Mister Wilson. Thank you for coming to see me."

"No problem, kiddo," Sam said. "How are you feeling?"

"We heard some pretty bad news about you," Steve said carefully.

"Yeah, well." Tony was smiling, and Sam knew the look of a near-miss well enough to spot it a mile away. "Turns out Pete won the lotto today."

"He what?" Steve asked.

"Somehow," Rhodey said, "Peter's body seems to be overcoming the radiation exposure. The tests show no radioactive degradation in his cells. He's fighting it off like a cold."

"How is that possible?" Sam asked, feeling his eyes widen.

"No idea." Tony was practically gleeful in relief. "But Odin did tell us that Peter's body would be a little different after the whole Mind Stone and being-not-human-for-a-while thing. So maybe that experience gave him some kind of immunity to dangerous energies."

"I don't have any other kind of healing factor," Peter added, holding up his still-bandaged hand, "but not getting radiation poisoning is great."

Sam saw the relief slam into Steve at about the same time it happened to him. Steve leaned on a wall; Sam slid to perch on the end of Peter's bed.

"So you're going to be okay?" Sam asked.

"Apparently we're running a half-million more tests to be sure," Peter said, wrinkling his nose.

"But, as far as we can tell right now, yeah." That was Rhodey and he was grinning brightly. "His system is still a little bit in shock from the exposure, but by Monday it should be like nothing ever happened."

"Peter," Steve breathed, "you have no idea how glad I am to hear that, little guy."

"I have some idea," Tony said in a low voice.

"I'm really sorry for worrying everybody," Peter said, genuinely contrite. "Nobody called Aunt May, right? Because if they left India early and I'm fine, I'm going to be really mad at somebody."

Sam glanced around, seeing a lot of shaking heads.

"We didn't," Rhodey said. "And you better be prepared to stand up for us when we do eventually tell them what happened today. Because if Bruce doesn't Hulk us all into next week for leaving him out on a radiation scare, then the combined powers of Pepper and May will incinerate us where we stand."

Peter smiled at him. "I'll protect you, I promise."

Steve smiled back, then stood. "I need to make some calls. Clint and Nat will want to hear. And Vision, too. We'll have to tell Thor when he gets back."

Peter looked up at him. "Please tell them all I really am sorry if they went to any trouble or got upset about me. I honestly didn't mean to ruin anybody else's day with all this."

Tony laughed and abandoned his chair to sit on the side of the bed, hauling Peter in for a hug.

"Underoos, believe me. Everybody would rather have their day ruined and find out you're going to be okay than not be here for you. That's...that's what family does."

And Tony looked up, meeting Steve's eyes, then Sam's.

Sam could only smile back. He understood an invitation when he heard one — and to more than just the world of teammates or casual friends. He knew Tony invoked the 'family' word very rarely, and only intentionally.

Today, apparently, the Avengers had passed the bar and become a lot more than a team.

It was Steve who clapped Tony on the back. "That's exactly what family does."

Chapter Text

The first time it happened, Peter was still grounded.

When Aunt May, Miss Pepper, and Doctor Banner heard about the scare with radiation sickness — after it was proven that he had recovered fully — Miss Pepper had used some kind of JARVIS override so they could all yell into a phone and JARVIS played it in Peter's room and forced him and Mister Stark to listen to it.

That hour was awful, only made better only by pantomiming various silly things back and forth with Mister Stark. Peter would go to his grave remembering playing patty-cake with Mister Stark while Doctor Banner gave a very disappointed lecture reminding everyone he was the "world's foremost expert on radiation's effects on the body" and he "should have been called right away."

He did get upset for real when May broke down, though. He hadn't wanted to worry her, and he still managed to kind of ruin her day.

Peter and Mister Stark meekly apologized, offered many soothing confirmations that Peter was feeling fine, and finally escaped with Peter grounded until Halloween and Mister Stark grounded (somehow; Peter didn't know how that worked) until Miss Pepper wasn't mad anymore. It was annoying, for sure, but for as long as Aunt May was still in India, being grounded didn't mean Peter couldn't visit the Tower or the Compound, so it wasn't the worst.

However, after Aunt May got back from India and the grounding became real — and meant no trips to the Tower or Compound at all, or time in the workshop in Queens — it was less fun. Peter had to come straight home from school after the robotics club or AcaDec, couldn't hang out with Ned, and had to pretty much sit at home on his own.

"Dude, what did you even do?" Ned wanted to know when Peter first told him about it.

Since he didn't want his best friend to worry either, he just said, "Something...almost happened and the Avengers got really worried about me, but it didn't, and it would have been fine except...I didn't tell May I was almost hurt. So…" He left off with a shrug.

"Sorry, bro," Ned said. "Well, I guess I'll see you at Halloween. What are we doing, anyway?"

"Oh! So, you know how Stark Industries did that thing last year with a costume party? Miss Pepper said I could help her with it, and you could, too."

"Awesome! You have the best life and I continue to reap the benefits."

But the two weeks until then were otherwise two weeks Peter spent pretty much alone. Mister Stark visited sometimes — even Aunt May couldn't keep him away if she'd tried, so she didn't — but he was in trouble with Miss Pepper and there was something going on with SHIELD that nobody talked about where Peter could hear so Mister Stark was busier than usual, too.

Peter was playing around with the gift from Grandfather Odin one afternoon, just to see what its limitations were. Whenever he opened it, JARVIS would ignore him no matter what he said or did to get his attention, including sending texts. And, once he closed it again, JARVIS seemed not to notice that anything had happened, and the texts sent remained unread.

The No-Seeing Eye, as Peter mentally named it, was sitting open on his desk. Peter had his phone out and was trying to see what would happen if he tried recording himself with it. He set his phone up on the windowsill and stepped back into the room to do something stupid for his test.

His foot landed wrong on one of his sneakers lying in the middle of the floor.

Peter started to fall, reaching out frantically to catch himself.

And, somehow, he stopped falling.

Peter blinked.

His right hand and forearm were flat on the wall. He wasn't grabbing onto anything or holding on, just leaning on the wall.

But his feet weren't supporting his weight.

He was dangling from his arm somehow.

Peter stared at it for several breathless seconds. Then, whatever had happened stopped happening and he flopped on the ground.

Peter rolled back to his feet and darted to his phone to play back what he'd recorded.

"Oh, crud."

Because nothing had been recorded. The No-Seeing Eye did its job.

Peter spent the next hour trying to recreate...whatever that was to no avail.

But, still, Peter knew something had happened. He could also tell that other things were changing. He was changing, albeit slowly. But Peter was a scientist; he knew how to track a gradually-developing hypothesis. He started writing the strange things down each day on a piece of paper he hid when the No-Seeing Eye was out so even JARVIS wouldn't know where to find it.

By the last week of October, the most recent developments on his list read:

— Ran around the track at school with no asthma!

— Caught Ned's tray when Flash knocked it out of his hands at lunch

— Ripped shoelaces

— Woke up hearing neighbors talking three floors down

— Got foot stuck to bathtub while showering for five minutes

— Ripped shoelaces again

— Could read Liz's cards at AcaDec from the stage

— Put a crack in my desk from pushing on it to stand up

It all added up to a desperate need to experiment. And a bubble of excitement that grew by the day along with his results. But he buried it as best he could, tried not to let anything slip, and waited for his chance.

-==OO==-

At last it was Sunday and Peter was on his own until Monday morning because Aunt May had taken a double shift. Mister Stark was off with the Avengers doing something in Peru. And Ned was spending the day with his grandmother. It was perfect.

As soon as his homework was done, he sat down as if to watch a movie. Then he popped the No-Seeing Eye open and headed down to Mister Stark's lab beneath the Queens workshop. The elevator opened for him even though JARVIS didn't see him.

"All right. Time to figure this out for real."

Peter had spent a lot of time around the Avengers in the last year and a half, and he had watched them training sometimes. He had also built gear that was specifically intended to withstand them. He knew exactly how strong Captain America was, how fast he could run, how high he could jump. He knew that Thor had enhanced senses like Captain America, that they could both see and hear things from much farther away than regular humans. He knew that Thor's body was either completely conducive to lightning or impervious to it — or both at once, if that was a thing. He knew that the Hulk could beat them all in a fistfight with one hand and most of his other fingers tied behind his back.

Peter had spent days trying to track the strange changes happening to him; now, he wanted to find out how he measured up in comparison.

"Let's approach this methodically. First thing — strength."

Peter dug out a version of the grip-strength tester Captain America used from one of Mister Stark's piles of random Avengers gear strewn about the underground workshop. Taking a deep breath, he set it to superhuman levels and squeezed it.

It was easy.

Laughing with delight, Peter upped the setting to the highest the gadget could go — the absolute limit of Captain America's strength.

He squeezed it again — and it was still easy.

"Well, okay. That's...definitive."

Next, Peter pulled out a slightly older model of the Avengers' comms. They were designed to work so that people could control the volume very precisely — and, in the case of Thor and Captain America, set to levels far below what normal humans could hear. Peter connected one set to his phone and started a song playing.

Then he walked across the lab almost to the other end beneath the warehouses on the adjacent property. He could still hear the tinny sound of his phone through ears without the comm, but he focused on the comm itself. He stuck it in his ear and slowly wound down the volume.

The interesting thing was that, even when the comm was set at a normal mission level for average humans, it wasn't too loud for him. But as he turned it lower and lower, his hearing seemed to adjust, as if he were turning down a dial not just on the comm, but in his mind. By the time he had hit the absolute quietest setting on the comm, he could still hear the song playing as clearly as if he were holding his phone and blaring it at full volume.

"That's two," he said to himself.

Instead of walking back, however, he set the timer on his watch and sprinted.

When he got to his phone, he wasn't even winded. If anything, he felt energized. But he took out the watch and calculated the speed given the time and distance.

"Um."

Peter took his phone with him to measure the distance just in case and ran it back and forth another time.

He knew that Captain America could run between sixty and eighty miles an hour, depending on the terrain and how much adrenaline he had going — in an emergency situation, Peter was pretty sure Steve Rogers could push to one hundred miles per hour.

Peter was currently sprinting at one hundred and fifteen miles per hour.

He very nearly freaked out then and there, catching himself only at the last moment.

"It's okay. I'm okay," he told himself. "Come on, Peter. You can't get scared now."

Onto the last test.

This was the one Peter understood the least — the stickiness. Speed, strength, and enhanced senses were all normal for Asgardians and Captain America and probably other enhanced people. Though it was weird to find these things manifesting in himself, at least he had a model for them. But sticking to random objects? That was a bigger unknown.

Peter chose a blank wall along the corridor between the lab under the workshop and the area under the adjacent warehouses. He started by putting one hand on the wall and just willing it to stick.

And it did.

"Yeah!" Peter cheered. Then he willed it to release. After a few tries, it did.

He repeated the process with his feet, barefoot, sticking and unsticking his hands to help him with balance until he discovered his balance was fine. Better than fine.

Something in his chest was buzzing the more he tried the stickiness, an urge that was almost instinctive. And as much as he wanted to continue doing this in a controlled manner worthy of proper experimentation, he also remembered something JARVIS had shown him once. It was one of Iron Man's early flights, before Mister Stark was even sure his technology would work.

Mister Stark had flown a few feet, and when JARVIS said it was time to stop, he had replied, "Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk."

So Peter took a deep breath and gave into the impulse vibrating in his very bones.

And climbed the wall by sticking to it, hands and feet alternating.

Once he reached the ceiling, Peter found himself turning around and putting his back to the corner, stretching out comfortably. And it was comfortable. His senses relaxed in a way they hadn't before, as if his body was breathing a sigh of relief.

"Okay, let's start at the beginning. Once upon a time I got bit by a weird spider at school and got sick with radiation poisoning," he said to himself.

Saying it out loud, Peter realized he'd never actually explained the wound on his wrist, the bite from the spider. When Mister Stark first picked him up, he was too out of it to think, and then by the time he was feeling okay, they were focused on radiation. He just…hadn't thought about it.

That…was probably an oversight on his part, actually. Oops.

He went back to thinking out loud. "And then I got better, which is impossible. Except I also had my body change from human to something else with the Mind Stone, so probably nothing is impossible."

He shook his head.

"Now I'm as strong as Captain America and Thor as far as I can test. I can run faster than Captain America without even trying. I can hear better than both of them. And I can stick to things."

He glanced around. "And apparently I like sitting up in the corners of rooms. Like a spider."

Of course, his first reaction was disgust because ew. Especially considering the spider had been particularly horrifying.

Peter rubbed his nose, stretching his legs a bit.

And realized he was still sticking to the wall, but only with his back through the material of his shirt. It didn't feel quite as stable as when he had a bare hand or a foot on the ceiling or wall, but it stuck all the same.

He decided to test one more thing.

Peter pulled his feet up behind him and started walking on the ceiling.

"Oh my gosh, this is amazing." He let his arms dangle freely, his hair falling away from him by gravity that otherwise barely touched him. "Who knew hanging upside down could feel so nice?"

Unfortunately, as much as gravity didn't seem to care about him or his blood pressure anymore, it was less understanding with his pockets. Peter felt his phone and keys start slipping from his pants too late to stop them.

He moved without thinking.

His feet released from the ceiling and Peter started to fall. His hands shot out, locating his keys and phone in the air without even having to look for them. And then he rotated as if he had been doing midair flips all his life and landed lightly on his feet.

Peter froze, then looked up and realized what he had done.

"So...super strength, speed, hearing, reflexes, sticking to things...agility…"

Peter tossed his arms in the air and threw his head back in unbridled glee.

"I have actual superpowers!"

-==OO==-

Aunt May was a little worried about Peter.

"I mean, he's fine. It's not like he's sick," she assured Pepper on one of the rare times they could meet for a quick cup of coffee at a spot almost exactly equidistant between the Tower and May's hospital. May had been working a lot of afternoon shifts, but Pepper was always willing to move her schedule around to grab an hour over a slice of poppyseed lemon cake.

Pepper frowned. "Did we ever figure out how he got exposed to radiation at school? I haven't talked to the team about it."

"Not that I know of," May said, shaking her head. "Nat told me that they think there was something that came from one of those companies showing off, but by the time they got there, there was no radioactive signature strong enough to track left over."

Pepper pressed her lips together. "That sounds like someone realized they made a huge mistake and cleaned it up quietly."

"That's what Nat said. She and Clint are doing background checks on all the vendors, but honestly she's not sure they're going to get very far."

"If Peter had really gotten hurt, they wouldn't put it aside so easily," Pepper said gently.

May nodded. "I wouldn't have, either. But no one else seems to have been exposed, and SHIELD has bigger problems right now, I guess."

Pepper bit back her response. She knew she wasn't the only one angry that Peter had been at risk — that a whole school had been at risk — and everyone was just letting it slide. But, on the other hand, there were bigger problems all around than a near-miss, and even Tony was distracted enough that he couldn't put as much into running it down as he normally would.

"So why are you worried about Peter still?" Pepper wanted to know. "He's not having any symptoms, right?"

"No, nothing like that."

Pepper waited. May never left her to wait for long.

"I know I was pretty harsh on him with the grounding, but I didn't really expect him to...withdraw like this." May sighed and cupped her hands around the ceramic mug of tea. "We haven't seen a lot of each other lately, but when we do, he just...he doesn't talk to me."

Pepper tipped her head to the side. "Do you think he's upset that you punished him?"

"No." May shook her head. "It's not like he's resentful. He just...you know how he normally is. He rambles. He says whatever comes into his head before it's fully baked. But lately he's been quiet. Lost in thought. And he's been cutting himself off around me, like he doesn't want to say something wrong."

Pepper made a tiny smile. "May, he's growing up. He's a teenager. Don't you think he might be going through some things that he maybe doesn't want to share with a girl?"

May chuckled. "It would explain why he spends more time in his room," she admitted. "I guess I thought this wouldn't happen with Peter. I've read all the books; I know kids need their space as they start to test their independence. But I thought…"

"You thought," Pepper said, "that because you're cool and Peter is nothing like the typical teenager, that he would just slide into adulthood without a blip."

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds silly." May took a sip of her rich, warm coffee. "But you're not wrong."

"Look, you've done an amazing job with him," Pepper said. "But what were you like at fourteen? Honestly?"

"Oh god." May ducked her head. "I was dating seventeen-year-old seniors who could drive and skipping Friday afternoon classes to hang out with my friends behind an industrial complex."

"Well, at least Peter's not doing any of that." Pepper grinned at her. "He needs to test some boundaries and keep some secrets. It's good practice for being out in the world. As long as Peter knows he can always come to you, or Tony, or me, and we back him up if he gets in over his head, it's going to be fine."

"You're right." May let her tension ebb away. "Speaking of the boys, how's Tony?"

"Busy," Pepper said. "I know they all thought that as soon as they took down that base in Sokovia that they would be done with Hydra forever, but apparently Hydra's not so easy to kill after all. They don't tell me much, of course, but they're on the move again and Tony's been trying to trace some shady financial stuff. My guess is that something big is on the horizon, and the team wants to get ahead of it before it rears its many heads."

"Well, I guess it's just as well that I grounded Pete when Tony wasn't around anyway. I have a feeling he'd be a lot closer to sneaking out if certain mad scientists were available," May said.

"Don't worry about that. Remember, JARVIS has eyes literally everywhere Peter goes. That kid isn't going to be able to sneak anywhere any time soon." Pepper paused. "Which, at some point, we should probably all talk about. We need to make sure we dial down the level of oversight eventually. The kid is only going to have a greater right to privacy the older he gets."

"Yes," May agreed, "but not right now. Let's worry about that when he hits sixteen."

"Fair enough." Pepper munched a bite of her cake. "Now. I have an absolutely critical question for you, May Parker."

"Oh?"

Pepper's face was bright with mischief. "Are you coming to the Stark Industries Halloween event this year?"

May grinned. "Actually, yes! Another nurse asked to switch for a party on Saturday night, so Friday night is free and clear."

"Perfect." Pepper pulled out her phone. "Still want to dress up with me?"

She turned the phone around to show a picture of a set of dresses. One was Eliza Doolittle's flower girl getup, complete with soot stains and the tattered hat. The other was the gown from the Embassy Ball, all flowing lines and twinkling sparkles.

"Are you sure you want to be the flower girl and not the princess version?" May asked. "I mean, of the two of us...?"

Pepper nodded. "Honestly, I can't think of anything more fun than faking a terrible cockney accent and seeing how many people recognize me while you're turning heads with every step you take." She winked. "I can think of someone who might even notice something besides security badges for once."

May felt herself blush. "Pep! It's not like that."

"Isn't it?" Pepper raised an eyebrow. "I can tell he's your type. Strong, gentle, loyal."

"You're making it sound like my 'type' is a golden retriever." May wrinkled her nose.

"Anyway. If you're interested, I'll have the costumes at the Tower by Thursday so we can do a test of hair and makeup. Do you mind if JARVIS provides your measurements? Otherwise I can arrange for someone to come to the apartment."

"No, JARVIS is fine," May said. If literally anybody else in the world was using the AI to watch her close enough to know her size, she would have been done with it ages ago — but it was Tony's creation and Pepper trusted JARVIS implicitly, and either one of those would have been enough.

"Excellent. I was thinking about talking Tony into dressing up as Henry Higgins, but that would be weird with the two of us." Pepper winked.

"So weird," May agreed. "Will the others even be there?"

"I think so. I hope so." Pepper shrugged. "The Tower is oddly quiet without all of them stamping around making a mess and finding trouble. Even the quiet ones like Nat." She paused. "Actually, Nat is the worst of them all."

May was hit with inspiration and leaned forward. "Hey. Think you can pull together one more costume, just in case?"

"Oh?"

"Well." May grinned. "There's the dress Eliza wears to the racetrack and I think that hat would look stunning on Nat."

Pepper's eyes went big, then bright. "I'm on it." She added a note to her phone. "I wonder if we should get an outfit so Bruce can be Freddie."

"Oh dear." May hid a laugh behind her coffee mug. "Are they still dancing around each other?"

"At this rate, it's more like watching glaciers crawl across a continent," Pepper said. "Honestly, I'm not sure it will ever really work out. But it makes me happy to see them both trying. And it's good that they have somebody they can dare to be a little vulnerable with."

"Hmm." May considered. "Maybe there's something we can do to help."

"I feel like matchmaking the Avengers is a good way to start up a whole new level of teenage drama, without the teenagers."

"Maybe." May shrugged. "But Bruce is family now, too. It wouldn't be right if I didn't at least give it a shot on his behalf."

"Well, leave me out of it," Pepper said, not unkindly. "If it goes sideways, the Tower is officially neutral territory."

"Fair enough." May held up her coffee as if in a toast. "To Halloween tricks...and treats!"

Pepper clinked her mug with a grin.

-==OOO==-

Ned was living his absolute dream come true. He was going to the high school he'd been thinking about forever with his best friend. They were in all the same clubs together — except band because Ned had just gotten free of his mom's insistence on piano lessons and he was in no hurry to go back — and they were both getting really good grades. And then there was the whole thing where Peter was basically Tony Stark's kid now, who came to pick him up from school if he was sick, and he got to spend his weekend getting into trouble with the Avengers.

Ned, himself, had never wanted to be the center of the universe. But he completely loved standing next to it and getting to enjoy all the fun parts at Peter's side.

"It is so cool that we get to go to the parties at the Tower the day before Halloween," he rambled to Peter as they walked back to Ned's house after school. May had finally relented a bit on Peter's epic grounding, just enough so that they could work on their costumes together. "So, are we, like, hanging out with the Avengers and stuff? Or is it more like kids and their families and the people who work in offices?"

"Probably a little of both," Peter said. "I think Miss Pepper wanted us to help out with whatever they have going on with little kids when we get there, and then we can wander wherever we want." He paused. "Might want to hold off on the Avengers party until late, though."

"How come?"

"Because there will also be important people there like investors and army people and stuff." Peter shrugged. "I'm not sure it's going to be that much fun until all the official people go away and we get the Tower to ourselves."

"Dude, you know how Avengers parties work well enough to know when they're boring!" Ned grinned. "This is going to be the best Halloween ever!"

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but froze.

"Peter?" Ned asked.

"Someone's crying." He turned slowly, his face focused.

Ned listened as hard as he could, but he couldn't hear anything unusual. On the other hand, he'd never have said he was the most observant or whatever the auditory equivalent was. This part of Forest Hills was a tiny green neighborhood like a small town in the dead center of Queens, and the city felt really far away amidst the small houses with full yards of decorations. The only sounds Ned could make out were normal car noises and stuff.

"Come on." Peter wrapped his hands around the straps of his backpack and started to jog down a side-street.

Ned followed, grateful Peter wasn't really going very fast. He could run longer than Peter since he wasn't asthmatic, but he kind of hated running just on principle. Peter led Ned all the way to the end of the block, which was just about as far as Ned really wanted to run.

"Peter, what…?" he asked, catching his breath.

But Peter was half-crawling under a big hedge. "Hey. You okay?"

Now Ned could hear the crying over his own breathing. It was audible from where he was standing, but he had no idea how Peter had heard it a block away.

"Dude, how did you even?" he started to ask.

"It was louder before," Peter said over his shoulder. Then he refocused his attention on the bush. "It's all right. Nobody's going to hurt you. Can you come out here?"

Peter scooted backwards, and in his wake came a little girl. She was wearing a t-shirt with Disney princesses on it and her thick, dark hair was pulled into twin braids which now had a few sticks and dry leaves stuck to them.

"My name's Peter. This is my best friend Ned."

"Hi," Ned said. He crouched rather than leaning, since he always hated when people bigger than him loomed over him. "Why were you in that bush?"

Peter shot him a look. "Will you tell us your name, first?"

Ned realized he probably should have opened with that. "Sorry."

The little girl's medium brown face was flushed from crying and her dark eyes were big with tears. "Mama," she said. "Mama gone."

Then she started speaking in really fast Spanish.

"Oh no." Ned exchanged looks with Peter. "Um…"

Peter took a deep breath and said something that sounded...like pretty good Spanish, actually.

"Dude," Ned whispered, awed. "When'd you learn that?"

Peter ignored him, listening to the girl intently. Then he sighed. "It's not that hard after Mister...you know, started teaching me Italian. But I'm not great. I think she says she lost her mom because of a cat in the street, so I'm guessing that means she wandered off."

"Um, how do we fix this?" Ned asked. "Do we, like, call the police?"

"¡No policia!" the little girl shouted at once.

Well, that was clear enough. "Okay, okay," Ned soothed. "I'm sorry. Lo siento. No policia."

"I've got an idea." Peter pulled out his cell phone. "¿Tienes un teléfono?" he asked.

The little girl nodded and held up her phone. It wasn't a smartphone, clearly just for emergencies.

"Okay." Peter typed something quickly into his own phone. "Let's see if my friend can track this phone to the person who bought it."

Ned grinned.

A moment later, Peter looked up. "JARVIS found something. Come on." He held out his hand for the little girl. "Vamos a tu madre."

The little girl looked nervous, but Peter was smiling at her and Ned knew that smile. It was the same one that always made him feel better when they were little and the movies got too scary or that one mean gym teacher started to yell.

It worked on her just as well as it had always worked on Ned. The little girl settled her hand in Peter's. Ned moved to her other side so she would be safe between them, and they started down the street.

After that, it was a little anticlimactic. Peter only needed to consult his phone once before he led them straight into the nearest corner store. Inside, every single person was looking around and frantically calling for Mariana. As soon as they entered, the little girl broke from them with a cry and ran to the hysterical woman at the counter who immediately swept her into her arms. The Spanish was too quick for Ned to follow, but he understood the profound gratitude of the woman to have her daughter back safely.

Peter and Ned slipped out of the store as soon as they could, Peter's face bright red with embarrassment — after all, the little girl had actually kissed him on the cheek in thanks. Without a word, they turned back in the direction of Ned's house.

But a couple of blocks later, Ned spoke up.

"That...was really cool, Peter. I mean, you saved that little girl. She could have been lost forever or hurt or some awful stranger could have found her. But you helped her."

Peter shrugged. "Anybody would have done it."

"Maybe." Ned wasn't convinced. "But you did it. I was there and I didn't do anything. You heard her crying and you stopped to go find her and you made sure she felt safe and you thought to use the phone to find her mom. I mean, it's not fighting aliens, but...still. You're kind of a hero."

Peter turned red all over again. "Thanks, Ned." He let out a breath. "I guess...that's the thing about hanging out with the Avengers. It makes me want to help. Not like what they can do. But...what I can do. You know?"

Peter had always been that way, of course, so Ned nodded. "Well, today you did."

"Yeah." There was a faraway look in Peter's face that Ned, for once, couldn't quite read. "I guess I did."

-==OOO==-

Peter was dreaming.

"Come on, Leia!" he yelled, running through the halls of Midtown Tech while Stormtroopers wearing the Hydra symbol chased after them.

The hand in his was warm and familiar, like May's, and Leia's face sometimes morphed a little bit into May's, too, her hair turning brighter in color even in its classic twin-side-bun style.

Peter led the way to the auditorium door, knowing they would be safe if they could get to the AcaDec team practice. But once he pushed the door open, he found himself on a rooftop looking across a dark alleyway while a battle raged in the sky above.

"Iron Man!" Peter yelled.

Iron Man, War Machine, Thor, Falcon, and Vision were flying around blasting aliens. Somehow, Captain America and the Hulk and Hawkeye and Black Widow were also participating in the fight — maybe using those flying jet ski things from the Battle of New York — keeping the aliens from the ground. The war above was massive, the stakes so great, and Peter felt so small suddenly.

"Peter." The hand in his tugged. Peter turned back to see Leia-May still looking scared. "We have to go!"

"But what about?" he started, looking up.

"We can't fight that fight. You don't even have an X-Wing," she said. "But you can help me down here."

She was right. Peter couldn't fly, but he could do something down here. "Okay." He returned his attention to the gap across the alley to the next building which was the Rebel headquarters. "We have to get across."

"Is there a bridge?" Leia-May asked.

"I think I just blasted it," Peter said, even though he hadn't, because that's what Luke would have said.

But Luke had used a grappling hook and a rope, and Peter didn't have that.

"I thought you were a spider," Leia-May said.

"I'm a Jedi," Peter replied.

"Use the force, Peter," Leia-May suggested.

Peter extended his hand, and a rope shot out of it, attaching to the Rebel headquarters securely. He grabbed her around the waist and threw himself across the alleyway, thrilling in the feeling of flying and falling and swinging all at once.

As soon as they landed, Leia-May smiled at him. "I told you that you were a spider."

Peter looked at his hands and saw that the rope was actually a strand of spiderweb.

"Wow."

"Peter."

Peter turned expecting to see Han Solo, but instead it was Ben standing there.

"Ben Kenobi?" he asked, confused.

"No." Ben smiled, and suddenly Peter felt love and sorrow well up inside. "I'm Uncle Ben, Peter."

The Rebel headquarters vanished, and so did the battle above, leaving just Peter and Uncle Ben standing alone together.

Peter launched himself forward, throwing his arms around his uncle. "I miss you so much!" he said, crying.

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I'm so proud of you, Peter. You've been so brave."

Uncle Ben's arms were big and strong and Peter felt very small and safe in them.

"I tried so hard," Peter said. "I wanted to be strong, like you said I could be."

"You are strong, Peter. Stronger than anyone I've ever met," Uncle Ben said. "Just keep following your heart and you'll be okay. There are a lot of people who care about you. They'll protect you and you can protect them, too."

"I wish I could tell you about this," Peter said. "About the spider that bit me and having powers. You would know what to do."

"You already know what to do, kiddo." He squeezed even more tightly. "And I'm proud of you for that part, too."

"Do you really think I can be a hero?" Peter asked. "Not like the Avengers, but...just taking care of people who need it?"

"I know you can do it. It will be hard, harder than anything else you've ever done. And you'll have to be clever, Peter. Cleverer than you've ever been. But I believe in you."

Peter felt the dream melting away, so he activated his sticking ability so that Uncle Ben couldn't let go. "I wish you were with me."

"I will be," Uncle Ben promised. "But not just me. You have May and Tony and Pepper and Bruce and all the others."

"They're going to be mad at me," Peter said.

"Probably." Uncle Ben chuckled. "But you'll show them in the end. I know you will. The world needs you, Peter Benjamin Parker. Now go be a hero for both of us."

"I love you, Uncle Ben."

Peter woke up in the middle of the night with tears on his cheeks and conviction in his chest. He got up out of bed, unable to sleep another moment, and flipped open the No-Seeing Eye. Then he pulled out his notebook and started scribbling.

By the time dawn filtered light in his window, he had a hero name, a costume design, a symbol, a chemical equation for a potential polymer, and a plan.

Chapter Text

"This might be the least subtle thing I've ever worn." Natasha glared at her reflection. "And I went undercover at Mardi Gras in nothing but sequins, feathers, and skin."

Tonight, however, Natasha was covered from the neck down. The dress was lacy, white, and perfectly tailored to her figure — emphasized by the black-striped ribbon embellishing her curves.

Reflected in the mirror in front of her, Pepper and May were both laughing.

"Remind me again why I can't be the flower girl?" Natasha asked, trying to keep her tone arch instead of petulant.

"Because," Pepper said, full of glee, "that spoils the fun of it."

"For whom, exactly?"

"Me."

"And me," May added. "Come on. Isn't it fun to have the most powerful woman CEO, and one of the wealthiest women ever, dressed up like a beggar while we prance around in these gowns?"

"At least you can prance," Nat said. "I can barely move my legs above the knee."

Still, she spun in front of Pepper's mirrors. The dress from Eliza's trip to Ascot Opening Day fit her like a glove, even if it was possibly the last thing she had ever imagined herself wearing. The hat weighed less than it looked like it should, but it cut off lines of sight in both directions.

"This hat is big enough for us all to share and leave room for the Hulk," Nat said.

"And yet you look terrifying when you glare at us with it on," May said.

"If it helps," Pepper said, still laughing, "I had the parasol specially made for you."

She held it out laterally, then gave the handle a twist. It separated the grip from the rest of the lacy thing, revealing an actual stiletto blade.

Nat grinned and accepted the parasol. "Don't think I won't use this on you just because you're dressed up."

She had to admit, the other two looked fabulous. Pepper wore a jacket that seemed like it had been through a soot explosion, a ratty scarf, layers of skirts, and topped it all with a hat that would be improved if it tried living life as a basket instead. With makeup smeared on a cheek and on her fingers where they poked out of unraveling gloves, she was almost unrecognizable. May, in comparison, looked like an elegant goddess. Her long hair was piled up, and the fake crown sparkled and refracted tiny rainbows everywhere. The floaty gown emphasized her willowy shape, and she looked like she had been born for the ridiculous choker necklace and long gloves.

Nat sort of hated that she was the perfect fit for the Ascot dress if they were really switching roles given her own body type filled it out better than May's would have, and she didn't have the hair to pull off the Embassy Ball look. At least wearing the impossible hat meant she didn't have to wear a wig.

"Why didn't we get Maria in on this, again?" Nat asked.

"Well, first of all, she's not coming," Pepper said.

"And, secondly, we like you better." May shrugged, unrepentant. "Maria's fine, but she's not family."

Sometimes May Parker reminded Nat keenly of Laura Barton. They were both strong women raising kids mostly alone, with a particular take on life that Nat found refreshing. But they were also loyal in a way that had nothing to do with politics or governments or agencies. They loved people, fiercely, and would do anything, endure anything, face anything for those they had chosen. And both had chosen Nat, for some reason.

Right then and there, Nat decided that if Clint didn't get his act together and admit he had a beautiful family that should be a part of things, she was going to call Laura herself and arrange to get them on a plane to visit at Christmas. Clint might be annoyed, but he'd be annoyed while his kids had the time of their lives, got to meet Peter, and were spoiled rotten by the rest of the Avengers.

And Laura would back Nat up — she always did.

Nat sighed. She knew if she truly objected to the dress, Pepper and May would both accept it without argument. They were kind like that. And they did mean it all in good fun, even if Nat would far have preferred spending another Halloween party pretending to be one of the Avengers; this year, she had swiped one of Steve's uniforms and filled it with pillows to look like muscles.

That would have been fun, but this would be, too, she supposed.

"Okay." Nat gave another twirl, getting a feel for how she could (and couldn't) move in the dress. "But if we're doing this, you better believe I'm going to speak in the worst posh accent I can manage."

"I bet I can do a worse accent than you," May challenged. Then she stuck her chin out and spoke in a lilting tone a full octave above her normal voice. "The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain." The way she said it came out more like "The rheign in Speign steighs mheignlee in the pleign."

"Oh my god." Pepper covered her face with her hands. "I will award a cash prize to the first person who makes someone spit out their drink with their accent."

"What if you win?" Nat asked, just to be clear on the rules.

"I probably won't because my Cockney is just sad, but, if it happens, I guess that means you two will owe me something."

Nate felt her own smile curl. "Instead of a cash prize, whoever wins gets to pick next year's costumes for all three of us."

"Deal," May agreed at once.

Pepper nodded. "Deal. But, you do realize now I have incentive to win."

"Oh, I know." Nat tossed her head carefully, the hat moving above her. "I prefer a real competition."

Nat remembered that Pepper had done some SI things before joining the Avengers-and-strategic-guests party previously, but this year she had handed those duties off to someone else, meaning that the three of them could make an entrance whenever they felt like it with no one, not even Tony, having seen them in costume. They waited until the party had truly begun; Nat had always known that Tony wasn't the only head of SI with a flair for the dramatic.

As they boarded the elevator, Nat noticed May go just a little pale.

"Don't worry," she said.

"I'm not," May said, though her eyes and her microexpression betrayed her.

"I know there will be many people you haven't met at this party," Pepper said, "but that's actually a good thing. Anyone who knows about you and Peter knows to play along with the cover story that you're a friend of mine from college. And the rest won't bat an eye. If you have to make things up, just keep it consistent and you'll be fine."

"Well," May said, starting to smile, "maybe I'll just introduce myself as Eliza and play up the character and hope nobody gets too, you know. Curious."

"And if you get uncomfortable," Nat said, "do this."

She held up her left hand and folded her thumb across her palm. Then she tapped it against her thigh three times.

Both Pepper and May frowned at her.

Nat smirked. "It's the letter B in ASL, but on the wrong hand. Clint and I have used it for years as a way of calling for backup. Steve will recognize it, too, and so does JARVIS. Even Tony might know it by now."

"Sir does indeed know it," JARVIS spoke up. "Should any of you use the signal, I shall text whichever Avenger is closest to join you."

Pepper shot an annoyed look at Nat. "You couldn't have taught me that years ago? How many times have I had to jump up and down to get Tony or Happy to back me up?"

Nat shrugged. "You never asked."

It wasn't that Nat had meant to leave Pepper on her own, of course. It's just that, in the last couple of years, Nat had forgotten that Pepper was truly a civilian. She was so competent, so comfortable in her position, always on top of things and a hundred steps ahead. May, in comparison, was like a green recruit. Nat didn't typically offer help to people who didn't need it.

But May was frowning. "Do you think we should have checked in on Peter and Ned?"

"JARVIS?" Pepper asked.

"Master Parker and Mister Leeds have gathered a group of the youngest party guests and are currently in the process of acting out a dramatic Jedi lightsaber battle for their entertainment. After they finish, they have been asked to join the panel of judges for the costume contest."

May relaxed fractionally. "Thank you, JARVIS."

"It is my pleasure, Missus Parker. I will be sure to watch over them. Please enjoy the party."

The elevator door opened, and Nat sailed ahead, letting her huge dramatic hat attract every eye. She drew her face into a haughty, daring expression; beside her, May adopted a wide-eyed, almost vacant smile and Pepper was grinning broadly with abandon.

The expression was challenging to hold when Nat caught a look at the rest of the Avengers. Apparently everyone had settled on movie themes in little groups of two or three.

Clint, Thor, and Bruce had gone for a Tolkien set with Clint clearly dressed up as Legolas — Tony was going to love that — Thor as a too-tall Gimli, and Bruce costumed like a very dashing Aragorn.

Steve was looking a little uncomfortable wearing tights representing a very broad-shouldered Peter Pan, with Sam twirling his mustache as Captain Hook with glee and Vision oddly serene as a crocodile.

Tony was bouncing around with more energy than usual, his white hair as Doctor Emmett Brown flying freely; trailing after him, looking alternately harried and amused was Rhodey as Marty McFly.

The rest of the room was filled with costumes as well. Last year, the costume theme hadn't necessarily been taken seriously by all attendees; this year, even the five star generals had gone all out. In fact, Nat's favorite of the military brass, a dangerously sharp admiral, was currently strutting about as a giant blue M&M.

"Oh my goodness," May said, already practicing her ridiculous accent.

"Next year's costumes will be mine," Nat promised, sounding even sillier.

"May the worst accent win," Pepper said, and it was so strange and broad even Nat almost broke character and laughed. She had a bad feeling that Pepper had this in the bag unless she got very creative.

She exchanged a glance with May, who was clearly thinking something similar.

"Well." Nat looped an arm through May's. "Here we go."

-==OOO==-

"Here we go," Peter whispered to himself.

He'd been having a blast in his new Jedi costume — much better than the one that was basically an old terrycloth robe — running around with Ned and playing with all the cute kids. With everyone in costume and parents and kids everywhere, nobody looked twice at Peter and Ned, thinking they were just more kids whose parents worked at SI. Only a couple of people knew that Peter was connected to Pepper, but they'd been told he was the kid of Pepper's friend who was joining the party upstairs. It was an amazing kind of anonymity right in the heart of the Tower, and Peter was enjoying it.

But, now that the costume judging was over, he had to make his move. If not tonight, he had no idea when he'd get another chance.

Peter reached into his Jedi robes and, with the skill of a great deal of practice, opened the No-Seeing Eye one-handed, leaving it open in his pocket. Then he grabbed Ned's arm and tugged him into an alcove away from the crowd.

"What's up?" Ned asked at once.

"I need you to cover for me for a little while. Not more than an hour," he said.

Ned frowned. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Peter said. "It's…" He hated lying to Ned, especially because, as bad as he was at lying, Ned was infinitely more gullible. "I had an idea for something for Mister Stark for Christmas."

"Tony," Ned was quick to correct him.

Peter aggressively ignored him. "But to pull it off, I need some supplies from his workshop here in the Tower. And I have no idea when I might be able to get in there again when he isn't going to walk in and ask what I'm up to."

"Oh!" Ned's eyes went big and he grinned. "A present for Iron Man! Yeah, I can help! What do you want me to do?"

"Just hang around like normal, and if anybody asks where I went, say I was calling Aunt May to check in. Just make sure the same person doesn't ask you more than once." He let his relief show since he couldn't really hide it anyway.

"I can do that. If you need more than an hour, just text me and let me know." Ned offered a fist-bump. "Good luck, man!"

"Thanks." Peter returned the fist-bump. "See you soon."

He ducked out of the room and made his way to the private elevator. Since he'd been able to get into the lab in Queens, he hoped the same would be true in the Tower. Buttons still responded to being pressed even if JARVIS didn't know about it, after all. He was rewarded when the elevator opened as normal for him, and carried him high into the Tower to Mister Stark's lab.

Peter had actually written down a list of everything he would need while he wasn't paying attention in Spanish earlier in the day, so he pulled it out now. He had also managed to drop his backpack down here when he arrived right after school, and that backpack had an extra, empty bag in it. He hoped it would hold enough.

Peter moved through the workshop easily; he'd spent enough time in here during the last year and a half that he could probably find everything he wanted with his eyes shut. He had three categories of things to pick up.

First, the supplies to create the polymer that would simulate having webs. He'd played around with some compounds during a chemistry lab day at school, but he needed a lot of supplies — enough to get it right and be able to produce a ton all at once. While he could steal the chemicals from Midtown, he had a feeling they would be noticed when they went missing a lot sooner than anything in the lab.

A year and a half of living half in the Tower had also taught Peter that Mister Stark often built or created while he was badly sleep- and food-deprived, and so he was no longer even surprised when he discovered he'd broken all his sets of goggles in a night or had built a semi-sentient toaster. He just shrugged at himself and ordered more of whatever he needed. Which meant a few things missing or out of place wouldn't even register as weird to Mister Stark or anybody else at this point.

Peter felt a tiny bit guilty about using these supplies without asking permission, even if Mister Stark wouldn't notice they went missing or care about the cost. It felt like lying.

But his need to be a hero outweighed the guilt, so Peter carried on.

Second, he needed to build a way to use the webs. He had a design nearly completed for what he was calling 'web shooters' — the only reason he hadn't perfected it yet was that he needed the final version of the webs themselves to make sure the mechanics would hold up. The tensile strength of the webs was pretty phenomenal, but that was only when they were exposed to the air. The rest of the time, the compound was a viscous liquid. He needed to be able to calibrate the shooters to dispense the webs perfectly, and he couldn't do that until he got the liquid stabilized. So he grabbed all the parts he knew he would definitely need, and then backups and a few extra parts just in case he had to make adjustments.

Lastly, he headed over to where Mister Stark kept parts specific to Avengers gear.

The downside of his super senses was that they kept getting stronger. While Peter was learning to tune out the excess sounds and smells and stuff, he already knew from walking around Queens that he'd need to be able to filter out extraneous sensory input if he was going to focus on something as complicated as swinging around on his webs or actually helping people. He couldn't let himself get caught up on the sun shining off a car window six blocks away if he was helping someone who was hurt.

And while his hearing seemed to adjust itself to his needs quite readily, his vision didn't self-correct that well yet. So he needed goggles.

Thankfully, Falcon used something similar.

In the Avengers area, Peter found where Mister Stark kept the Falcon goggles he had discarded as being too dark for Mister Wilson to use effectively. Peter pulled out three failed prototypes and held them all up to his face. None of them had a HUD yet, since they had failed testing at the basic can-he-see-through-them part, so they were really just reinforced, thick material. Peter liked two of the three, so he grabbed both, just in case.

His bag was very full, but he paused before he left the area, inspiration striking.

Peter moved to where Mister Stark kept Hawkeye's stuff. In amidst all the arrows and bows were some boxes of discarded boots and gloves. Hawkeye needed gloves that were highly durable, but which he could feel through in order to maintain precise control over his weapon. A couple of those went into the bag, too. Peter wished he could steal boots — he had discovered that he actually could utilize his powers through even his thickest winter footwear — but nobody had feet the same size as his. He'd have to make do with something else.

Finally satisfied, Peter zipped up the bag and stepped into the elevator.

This was the most dangerous part of the whole thing. He needed to get the bag up to his room at the Tower so he could hide it. He'd be able to sneak it back to Queens later. But if anyone got into the elevator with him, he probably couldn't avoid a conversation.

Suddenly a cold prickle ran down the back of Peter's neck.

Without stopping to think, acting purely on instinct, Peter jumped, pinning himself to the ceiling of the elevator and cradling his bag of supplies on his stomach.

A moment later, the elevator stopped and the door opened.

Someone wearing a very convincing Darth Vader outfit and pushing a cart loaded with glasses of wine stepped onto the elevator. Peter realized it was one of the SI caterers, since they must be preparing food a couple of floors down from the main party — which was itself lower down in the Tower than the residences up top.

He also realized that the Darth Vader helmet and heavily shaded lenses probably made it really hard to see color contrast, and his brown Jedi robes blended in with the dark paneling in the elevator.

Peter held his breath and kept very still as the elevator came to a stop at the party floor. Since this was the private elevator, no guests other than the Avengers would be using it — just staff that Miss Pepper had authorized. He hoped that meant nobody would be looking to get on it as soon as they arrived.

The caterer maneuvered the cart out of the elevator with ease, and nobody entered it, but Peter didn't relax until the elevator finally made it to their personal floor. Even then, he waited for the door to open and for his senses to confirm there was nobody nearby before he dropped down and ran to his room. He shoved the bag under his bed and let out a deep breath.

"I did it," he said to himself.

Now he could head back down to Ned and let the rest of the night go as intended. And tomorrow he could start building what he needed to become the hero he had chosen to be.

For tonight, he was still Peter Parker, pretend Jedi.

Tomorrow, he'd start becoming Spider-Man.

-==OOO==-

May was having a wonderful time. Once she'd settled into her 'Eliza' persona, sprinkled with in-jokes for those who actually knew her, it became like playing a game. A few of the strangers at the party were lovely to talk to, and the one or two who seemed a little too interested in her real name vanished mysteriously moments after she made the backup signal Nat had shown her.

Which is to say, both times she used it, one person appeared at her elbow to walk her away from the situation, and another accosted the person she was trying to get away from and distracted them. The first time, it was Clint doing the rescuing and Steve the distracting — the second, it was Pepper and Tony.

"You sure you're all right?" Tony asked after he'd escorted her to the window where they could get out of the crowd. "J said you needed an out once already."

"Yes, but it was fine," May said, catching her breath. "That was somebody who was kind of digging into how exactly I know Pepper, and I was running out of excuses. Clint and Steve took care of it."

Tony smirked. "If Steve came riding to your rescue, he probably lectured the nosy guy into submission."

May nodded. "Like one of those PSAs they show at Peter's school."

Tony blinked. "Like one of what now?"

"Oh god." May grinned. "You don't know?"

"No, I do not know and I demand you tell me at once because this sounds amazing and I can't go another second not knowing about it."

May laughed. "And here I thought you were worried because you had to rescue me from that guy." She gestured.

"Oh. Well." Tony looked back over the crowd at the person he had interrupted with Pepper. It was one of those politicians on the Senate Arms Committee that they had to continually appease to keep out of SHEILD's way. He was annoying on a good day and a real jerk on a bad one. "What did Old Blowhard want, anyway?"

"My number," May said. She refused to be embarrassed. "He thought perhaps I might be interested in a private conversation somewhere secluded someday. Made some commentary about…" She trailed off. "Anyway. I didn't think he would drop it on his own, so thanks for the help."

But Tony's face had shifted to livid. "You're telling me Mister Hypocritical Family Values made a pass at you? And wouldn't take no for an answer?"

"Well." May raised her eyebrows. "It's always the ones who live in the shakiest glass houses that throw the most stones."

Her sense of humor did nothing to quell Tony's fury. "He's gone. He's out of here. I'm not even —"

"Tony." That was Pepper coming up to join them. "It's okay. I've got it."

"Pep, did you hear what he said?"

"Oh, I heard." Pepper's eyes were bright with a dangerous light. "And so did JARVIS. And, in point of fact, Thor."

May looked around in alarm. "He didn't kill him, did he?"

"No. But he is escorting the good Senator downstairs to leave, and I'm sure he's giving his opinion at length. With some hints about dishonoring Thor's friends and his rights as a Prince of Asgard to banish people." Pepper smiled. "That, plus what JARVIS recorded the last few times he was here, should be enough. So, next time you're testifying in front of the Committee, Tony, feel free to remind him that he probably doesn't want to test our willingness to air his dirty laundry for him."

"Still feeling the urge to put my boot as far up his —"

"Tony." May patted his sleeve. "I'm fine. God knows I've heard worse. But thank you for looking out for me."

"Actually, better it was you than Nat," Pepper said lightly. "She's the one with a blade in her parasol. And you know she wouldn't hesitate to use it. I think she'd consider a little light maiming perfectly appropriate Halloween party behavior."

That actually got Tony to laugh a little. "Fine. But I'm ruining that guy the first chance I get. Okay?"

"Yes, dear," Pepper said.

"Besides." May was just as glad to change the subject. "Didn't you want to hear about Steve's PSAs?"

"Oh my god, so much." Tony's eyes glowed. "Tell me everything."

But before May could do so, there was a small uproar from across the room. They all turned to see Clint and Bruce bent over one of the high-top tables, both wiping at their mouths and their drinks all over the table. Beside them, Natasha looked utterly unflappable. She noticed them watching and gave a solemn wink to May and Pepper.

"Well, I guess Nat wins the bet," May said. "I wonder what that means for us next year."

"I knew teaming you up was a bad idea," Tony said. "But I refuse to worry about that now. That's a problem for another day." He leaned close to May and snapped his fingers. "Now. Come on. Cap. PSAs. Explain. And they better be good."

"They," May grinned, "are spectacular."

-==OOO==-

It was the weekend after Halloween.

Aunt May was working a double-shift, and Mister Stark and the rest of the Avengers were up at the Compound for some kind of team training thing. They'd invited Peter to come with them, of course, so he wouldn't be alone all weekend. But Peter had excused himself due to homework — which he did have — and plans with Ned — which he did not have. He spent Friday evening working furiously through his assignments, checking in with both Mister Stark and Aunt May when they called via JARVIS.

But when they both said goodnight and he felt it was safe, he opened the No-Seeing Eye.

One unexpected advantage from the spider bite had proved to be that Peter just didn't need to sleep as much as he had before. He remembered Steve saying something similar, actually. His body wanted to go to bed at his normal time, but he regularly woke up only two hours later, fully rested, able to get a couple of hours of work in before another nap between pre-dawn and his alarm going off. He'd spent every night and two days after school working in the Queens lab with the No-Seeing Eye to perfect his web fluid and shooters. Then he'd spent last night putting a costume together.

It was...well, Ned would call it lame. Because it was. It was essentially just a pair of blue sweatpants and a red hoodie with his spider design drawn on the front. But that was the best Peter could do with his limited sewing skills. The web shooters had actually been significantly easier thanks to the years of building bots and other mechanical things alongside Mister Stark.

He did know how Mister Stark made the Avengers' uniforms, but to get anything that advanced would mean using the fabrication units, and Peter just didn't want to stretch his luck. He could always go that route later.

But tonight, this was his chance. Tonight he was ready.

With the No-Seeing Eye's protection, Peter put on all his gear in his room. He'd tested the range of the No-Seeing Eye and learned that it stretched about thirty feet in every direction. He'd found a spot he could set it on the roof of the apartment building that would just cover the apartment, while leaving most of the building still under JARVIS's protection. More importantly, it covered the leap to the building next door, so Peter could come and go without being spotted.

He left his watch and his phone in his room because he didn't want anybody tracking him through them, either. It was strange to be without them, without JARVIS, without any way to call for help if he needed it. But he shook himself of that spike of anxiety as he slipped out onto the fire escape and crawled up the wall. He'd very carefully broken a hole in the appropriate cement block for the No-Seeing Eye, and he had a brick to put over it to protect it. Once that was tucked away, Peter looked across the gap.

He took a few steps back, then ran and leaped.

The exhilaration of soaring through the air filled him, and he landed easily on the next roof over as if he had simply hopped a crack in the pavement. Grinning beneath his mask, Peter set off at a run. In minutes, he was well into the nearest commercial area of Queens.

It was Friday night and the sky was clear. The deeper cold of winter hadn't set in yet, so the streets were full of people out for a good time. Peter perched on a rooftop and let his senses wander.

"No! Get back here!"

Peter — no, he was Spider-Man now — turned. His body unfolded and he shot a line of webbing to the building across the street. He'd swung on it in the Queens lab as part of his testing process, but this was for real.

He let himself fall, already moving his arm to line up the next shot. As soon as he felt himself hit the apex of the swing, he released the first line and fired the next.

It...wasn't a smooth transition.

He almost lost it and fell right in the middle of traffic. But he caught it just in time and even though the jerky motion strained his shoulder, he managed to hold on through it. He shot the third web to land higher on the next building, and this time he managed not to almost turn himself into street pizza. Two more transitions later and he was getting the hang of it.

Spider-Man had stopped listening to the shouting in the process of trying to not die, so now that he was in less danger of squashing himself flat on his first night out, he sought the voice in the chaos again.

"Oh god, somebody stop her! She's going to get hurt!"

Spider-Man turned at the corner to head down the next block. His eyes followed the voice and he spotted its owner, a tall man running frantically along the sidewalk.

"She's in the street!" he yelled. "Ginny, no!"

Spider-Man saw the collision that was almost inevitable, and moved. He swung as hard as he could and threw himself at the street. His feet hit the road and he launched himself to the side, pulling the little body tight against his chest. He rolled once, only stopping when he bounced off a wall.

"You're okay," he said. "You're safe."

"Virginia!" The tall man came skidding to a stop. "Oh my god, you saved her."

Peter opened his arms and the fluffy dog bounded from him back to her person.

"I'm so sorry," the man said, hastily affixing the leash. "We got out of the car and she just took off." He ran shaking hands over her. "Virginia Woof, you are in so much trouble."

Virginia Woof barked and wagged her tail.

"Nah, it's no problem," Spider-Man said, adopting a heavier Queens accent than his real one. "Don't sweat it, man." He leaned over and pet the dog's head. "Be a good girl, now. No more playing in traffic, okay?"

She tried to lick his sleeve.

"Thanks again," the man said.

"That's what I'm here for," Spider-Man said. "See you around."

And he turned to the building and jumped, catching onto its side about two stories up and climbing the rest of the way.

From behind him, he heard, "Holy crap!"

Spider-Man grinned. He climbed until he reached the top of the building, then ran across rooftops until he was a few blocks away. Only then did he let himself do a little dance of pure happiness.

"I did it!" he shouted. "I saved a dog and I swung on my webs and I'm a hero!"

Spider-Man stayed out until almost dawn on his first patrol. He spent most of the time getting better at swinging on his webs, but he did stop someone from breaking into a shop and webbed them to the nearby wall for safekeeping. He also helped a set of really, really drunk college students get in a proper ride-share instead of a random person's car. And he kept an eye on a group of girls walking to the train just in case anybody got any funny ideas. They didn't, but he was ready if someone did.

When he finally retreated back to the apartment building just as the sun was rising, grabbing the No-Seeing Eye on the way to his room, he was more wired than he'd ever been in his life. He felt like he was full of light, like his very chest might turn into the brightest firework he'd ever made with Mister Stark.

The only thing, the only thing that could have made it any better was if he could have told Mister Stark, or Aunt May, or Ned. Even JARVIS. If he could have shared it with someone.

But he knew if he dared come clean, Spider-Man would never fly again.

He put all his gear into the attic crawlspace above his room, changed into pajamas, and tucked himself in bed before he closed the No-Seeing Eye.

"Master Parker?" came JARVIS's voice almost at once. "Are you having difficulty sleeping?"

"No," Peter said, yawning and not even faking it. "Not really. Just...thinking. Thanks for asking, though."

"You are very welcome, Master Parker. As always, I am here to assist you if you need me."

"I'm good, I promise. It's been a long night, but I have a feeling that things from here on out are going to be awesome. Good night, JARVIS."

"Good night, young Sir."

Chapter Text

Clint was nervous.

"It's going to be fine." Nat shook her head at him. "You're acting like you're about to be interrogated."

"Kind of not wrong," Clint shot back.

He couldn't help it. He knew intellectually that things would probably be fine, that Tony knew, that Nat fully backed his play – that, in fact, it was entirely her fault this was happening in the first place. But, still.

He'd kept this secret for so long, so completely, ripping it open now felt wrong in every way.

Not that he had much of a choice.

A warm hand slipped into his and squeezed.

Clint looked over and couldn't help but smile. No matter how many people he met, places he journeyed, or sights he saw, nothing and no one could ever be more beautiful than the woman he loved. In her arms, Nathaniel was blinking himself awake. Cooper and Lila were flanking Nat, eyes wide.

"Clint," Laura said. "These people love you."

"For some reason," Nat said, causing the kids to giggle.

"They'll understand," she said. "And if they don't, that's what we have Nat for."

"Oh, I don't think it'll even come to that," Nat said, looking far too smug for Clint's liking. "The instant either of the Parkers lays eyes on my favorite niece and nephews, everyone else will be tripping over themselves to be nice or risk upsetting them."

Lila looked up at Nat. "Are the Parkers scarier than you?"

Clint snorted through his nose. His children knew sanitized versions of the big adventures and knew that their Auntie Nat was more than able to go toe-to-toe with any one of the Avengers. She was, as Cooper had put it when he was younger, "the good kind of scary."

"No," Clint said. "Nobody is scarier than your Auntie Nat. But the Parkers…" How to explain it? "They're like the axle on a wheel. Things move when they turn. They moved Tony, and now everything moves with them."

"You'll like Peter," Nat said. "He's just about a year older than you, Coop, and he's a huge nerd."

Cooper smiled. "I'm not a nerd."

"You kind of are," Lila told him.

"Kids." Laura shook her head. "Do me one favor. Hold off on the sibling rivalry until we at least introduce you and they get a chance to think you're sweet. Then you can prove them wrong after we've made our first impression."

Even Nat laughed.

The elevator stopped and opened. "Thanks for the ride, J," Clint said under his breath, grateful that JARVIS hadn't startled his kids when they were already in a new place.

They entered into a scene of chaos.

"Rhodey, if you don't get your butt out of the kitchen, I'm going to let Pepper take you apart!" Tony was yelling, waving his arms.

Rhodey darted out of the kitchen like a barn cat caught by the hose. "I wasn't doing anything!" he protested.

"The pies will be done sooner if you quit opening the oven," Steve called after him. "We don't have Barton to keep things from going wrong, so please don't tempt fate."

"Looks like they need you, honey," Laura said softly.

Clint shook his head. "Always." But he raised two fingers to his lips and gave a shrill whistle. "Hey!"

All activity ceased. All the Avengers — except Sam who was once again with his own extended family — two Parkers, Pepper, and Maria all came to gawk.

Pepper stepped forward, smiling in welcome. "Oh, Clint. I'm so glad."

"Yeah." He waved. "Everybody, this is my wife Laura and our kids — Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel." He gestured to each. "Laura, kids, meet the Avengers."

Cooper and Lila were both pretty outgoing normally, but they shrunk back in the face of so many adults.

"Oh, hey!" came a familiar voice.

Peter vaulted the couch in a nimble move that Clint could appreciate, darting in front of the others and grinning. "Hi! I'm Peter! And it is actually awesome not to be the only kid anymore. I didn't know Mister Barton had kids, but I guess it makes sense because he's, like, kind of a dad and tells bad jokes. Or does he only do it to me?"

At once, Cooper's face fell into its easy-going smirk. "Did he tell you the one about having a 'sharp eye' because he's, you know, Hawkeye?"

Peter grimaced. "Yes."

"And you hated it?"

"Duh."

"Yep, we can be friends," Cooper decided. "Do you have Mario Kart?"

"We have to watch the parade first," Lila objected.

"She's right," Peter said. "It's tradition. Parade and then the dog show." He shrugged at Cooper. "Then Mario Kart. But you're on my team. I'm tired of getting ganged up on."

"That is because you can beat the pants off the rest of us," Tony said, sauntering up. But his body language was soft, the way he was around Peter instead of how he was when outsiders were watching. "If the kids team up, they'll be unstoppable."

Clint watched Peter sneak a fist-bump to both Cooper and Lila and they returned it.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Tony said. "Welcome to Thanksgiving with the Avengers. It's an adventure." He held out a hand to Laura. "I hope this is okay."

"More than okay," Laura told him. "Thank you for having us, and for flying us in."

"My genuine pleasure," Tony said. "Besides, we need Clint. Nobody else makes turkey right and we already burned one pan of stuffing. Oh, and I don't even know what happened to the green beans but they're brown now."

Clint's heart sank. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope."

"Right, then." Clint nodded to Laura before he headed for the kitchen, leaving the rest of the introductions to the others. "Steve, I thought I left you in charge."

"You did." Steve was looking positively sheepish.

"I even wrote down all the steps. With time stamps." Clint found his incredibly precise sheet of exact instructions and held it up. "Couldn't you just…?"

"I don't know what happened." Steve looked at the floor.

"Well, I did attempt to assist," Vision put in. "But it appears my efforts were not exactly successful."

"And I stole pie," Rhodey called from across the room.

"Generally," Pepper was straight-up laughing, "it's been a mess. The only thing we did right was keep May from helping."

"I resent that!" May yelled.

"Let's get you settled," Pepper said. "Peter, can you give Cooper and Lila the tour?"

"Sure!" Peter beckoned and the two younger kids fell in behind him. "So, have you met JARVIS yet? Because if you have questions I can't answer I'm going to have to ask him anyway…"

Clint kept one eye on them, but he knew they would be safe with Peter. That kid couldn't hurt someone if his life depended on it. Meanwhile, Laura continued to hold Nathaniel while Nat started setting up the stuff from the cart they'd brought with them. After all these years, his SHIELD partner was an expert at baby gear.

"So," Bruce spoke up. "Can't say I saw this coming."

"Yeah." Clint busied himself with the oven — and what on earth had they done to his green beans? How did they even turn that color? — and avoided eye contact. "Nobody knew."

"I knew," Nat said immediately.

"You don't count," Clint said.

"I knew, too," Tony added.

Clint growled. "Not helping, Stark."

Tony held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry."

"It's a surprise," Steve said, "but a really nice one." Clint didn't have to look to know that Cap was turning on the charm. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Likewise," Laura said, wonderfully unintimidated by the company she found herself keeping. "Thank you all for taking such good care of Clint for me."

"He's an essential part of the team," Tony said, and his tone was flippant but Clint knew he was being serious. "Couldn't do it without him."

"Sam is going to be mad he missed this," Bruce said.

"Hey, Wilson and Thor both decided to do Thanksgiving with other people." Rhodey wandered up. "Serves them right."

Clint smiled to himself. The only family he had considered himself to have had been the hidden one in Missouri — and Nat, of course. Now, though, those lines were blurring. Tony, Steve, Bruce, May and Pepper, Peter...they were more than friends and teammates now. Even the weirdness that was Vision, the annoying little brother-ness of Sam, and the walking deadpan snarker of Rhodey had grown on him.

"You know what?" That was May, speaking up as she started helping Nat unpack the suitcase of things needed to take care of Nathaniel for twelve hours. "I know we're missing Thor and Sam, but let's take a picture together sometime today. It's…" She looked around, then gave a small smile. "I don't have any good ones of everyone."

Clint felt his heart warm. He understood what May was saying — that she didn't have pictures with Laura and the kids, and because they were his, she considered them part of this family, too. Just like that.

"Good idea," Steve said warmly. "Maybe JARVIS can picture-shop Thor and Sam in afterwards. They're not here, but they still have a place at the table."

"Photoshop, not picture-shop," Bruce corrected.

"Isn't it the same thing?"

And as the chatter built up comfortably around him, providing a soothing background as Clint started a new batch of green beans and swatted everybody but Laura away — she, at least, could be completely trusted in the kitchen — he realized he had an answer this year when Cap inevitably repeated his annual "what are you thankful for?" thing at the table.

Because he was thankful, more than he had words to express. For all of it.

Except for Nat making that smug I-told-you-so face at him all afternoon. He was definitely not thankful for that.

-==OOO==-

Vision was fascinated by human rituals.

He contained a great deal of knowledge regarding the importance of ritual, and had read more in the time since his birth, but no amount of study ever lessened his interest. For thousands of years on every continent and in every culture, humans had created rituals to mark significant moments and the passage of time. They celebrated birthdays, deaths, the coming of the spring, the arrival of winter, the bounty of the harvest, the passing of the stars. Even amongst peoples who bore no other traits in common, the concept of ritual and its use in society was similar.

But beyond the simple knowing, Vision had found that human rituals carried meaning.

In his months of life, he had only experienced a few. The Fourth of July, Peter's birthday, Halloween, and Thanksgiving were the major, intentional rituals, but there were other, more subtle varieties. The recurring movie nights in the Tower or the Compound, more frequent when Peter or May was present, but not altogether unlikely even in their absence. The methodical way Steve Rogers checked on his team before and after each mission, a familiar cadence that was as predictable as it was apparently significant to him. The way that each Avenger set the table in the common room by a particular pattern, each unique, but never varying.

In their way, Vision had discovered that humans could be defined by their patterns just as easily as any computer program.

But no simple computer program could feel as humans did.

Today, Vision was learning about grief.

From the memories he had inherited from JARVIS, he knew all about the memorial held on the anniversary of Benjamin Parker's death. He could have recited the events of the previous year, the candles lit, the words spoken, even when tears were shed. JARVIS had recorded it all. But JARVIS, whatever he did feel, did not feel it in a body with a heart that could pound and pulse that could quicken. He could not perceive the edge of tension in the air.

And he could not sense grief, or love, through the prism of the Mind Stone.

Vision could not know how anyone else experienced the world, for he was only himself, but he remembered a bit from when the Mind Stone was held by Peter, and he knew he was different. Peter had not sensed what Vision felt was the essence of each person, could not have tasted their feelings as Vision did, did not breathe the very edges of their thoughts. And though Vision did try to keep such to himself, to avoid prying into others' minds, there was a certain amount of bleed-through he simply could not ignore.

If Vision looked at a man like Tony Stark with only his eyes, he saw the man as represented in the corporeal world. He saw his body, his face, his clothes. He saw his facial expressions and the way his body reacted to his inner thoughts. With his other senses, he could hear his voice, smell his cologne, feel the pat of a warm hand on the shoulder.

But when Vision looked at Tony Stark through the lens of the Mind Stone, all those corporeal things faded to the background. And instead, Vision saw the firestorm of electrical impulses that made up a brain, the nebulous gathering of energy that was the spirit housed in flesh, the rhythmic pulsing of ideas skimming across the surface and inspiration striking and realigning everything in its wake. Vision saw people not just as the world perceived them, but by the humming, living power that inhabited them.

Every person was different. They could not be described by colors or shapes, for what Vision experienced was not perceptible through the ocular nerve. But he knew them all. He knew the chaotic, brilliant, unleashed force that was Tony Stark's mind. He knew the gentle depth of Bruce Banner where it dropped away and deeper still into the Hulk. He knew the warmth and enduring fortitude that was May Parker. He knew the regimented, multi-layered focus of Clint Barton. He could tell them all one from the next more easily by their minds than by their physical selves.

What Vision had discovered was that ritual, any ritual, caused those disparate, individual minds to align. It happened on missions, or when the Avengers were training together. It happened on Thanksgiving. It happened in round-robin video game tournaments.

But he had also seen it happen when Tony and May were co-parenting Peter, or when Peter and Tony and Bruce were 'doing science' together in a lab. He saw it frequently between those who were close, like Tony and Pepper, but also those whose relationship was platonic rather than romantic like Steve and Sam. Their minds settled into patterns that were complimentary, balanced, singing together like a duet neither could hear. Relationships, trust, love — Vision had learned that these bound people far deeper than they realized.

The fact that such connections came about during ritual spoke to the power of collective human action and the communal decision to partake.

The Parkers had brought a large box to the Tower for this night of remembrance some days before, and Vision had noticed that Tony and Pepper and Steve and Bruce had all contributed to it since with yet more candles and candleholders. By the time the sun began to set on the appointed day, the box was overflowing with candles for the night's work.

Vision had not gone with the Parkers and Tony and Pepper to the cemetery, though he and all the others had been invited. However, he had no solace to offer that was not better handled by Tony and Pepper, and he thought any private reflections on the lost lives whose bodies rested under stones would be better served alone. So he remained with the others who had gathered at Avengers Tower, waiting.

Bruce had taken it upon himself to explain the ritual so that those who felt the day most keenly need not.

"That's beautiful," Sam said when he finished. "I might bring that to the folks at the center in DC next time I visit."

"It's very powerful," Steve put in. "Especially…"

Bruce nodded, understanding. "Peter will hold one candle to the end. For everyone who isn't remembered. Everyone lost for whom there is no candle." He swallowed. "If I thought it was hard to light my candles, it was so much more to watch him light the last one."

Vision noticed that Clint and Natasha both looked guarded. He almost spoke, but Rhodey did so first.

"Anybody who doesn't want to do this," he offered, "it's okay. This is a tough thing. For all of us. I don't…" He looked away. "As a soldier, I couldn't tell you how many people I've killed. I can tell you how many I've lost, though." He let out a breath. "Nobody should do this if they aren't comfortable."

Vision expected either Clint or Natasha — possibly both — to take the offer and leave. But they stayed.

"To remember those who are gone in Asgard is done with much drinking and singing, feasting and boasting," Thor said, subdued for once. "And yet, I feel that there is merit in this as well. I am honored to be welcome."

"Y'all know people are gonna cry, right?" Sam asked. "I mean it. I'm gonna cry. Just so we're clear."

"Tears are valuable," Vision said. "There is no shame in them. Though I have none for myself, I would not judge you for yours."

Sam smiled at him. "Thanks, Vis."

When JARVIS alerted the gathered Avengers that the Parkers and Tony and Pepper were in the elevator, Vision could perceive the tension in the room growing. As much as the others professed their willingness to participate, there was a discomfort with the decision, too. Vision supposed it might be the difference between imagination and reality — to be part of this ritual was far easier to envision than to endure in the moment.

The four who exited the elevator seemed surprised at the crowded common room. Vision noted at once that May Parker's face was red with crying, and Peter was much the same. Pepper hovered close to May's side, mirroring Tony who had an arm across the boy's shoulders.

Rhodey stepped forward. "Hey," he said quietly.

"Hi, Colonel Rhodes," Peter said, rubbing at his nose and trying to look composed. "It's really great of you to be here."

The colonel's smile went sad, but so warm. "Thank you for letting me be part of it. It means a lot to me."

The other Avengers approached as well, though most, like Vision, appeared as though they did not know what to say.

It was Clint who cleared his throat. "Just...so we're all clear." He glanced at Natasha. "We're here for you, okay? You don't have to do this in front of us if you don't want to."

Vision understood; for Clint, as well as Natasha, grief was inherently and deeply private. Grief and guilt, perhaps.

Peter nodded. "I'm okay," he said. And he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin — and for an instant, Vision could see something truly grand hovering in the teenager. "I trust you. We trust you. And it's okay to share the bad things with people you can trust." He made a fleeting smile. "Even if you'd rather not."

Vision changed his focus so that he could better see the minds of the others instead of their outward appearance. He was not surprised to find that the Parkers shared swirls of the same unhealed grief, the trepidation of facing those feelings, the stale sorrow that never quite faded. But that Tony and Pepper and even Bruce and Rhodey were already so aligned was a greater surprise. Sam was quickly falling into the same patterns as the others, but Steve's mind circled differently, and Vision sensed more guilt than grief on his part. Thor was yet reserved, subdued.

Natasha and Clint, however, burned almost strangely. And Vision realized — belatedly, because human emotions were still confusing even though he could share in them — that their guilt and grief was inextricably linked to rage. Whether they mourned lost friends, or felt remorse for the lives they had taken, those emotions could not be separated from anger that they ever had to kill or see others killed in the first place. Even more than Rhodey and Sam, whose experience as soldiers could have been similar, there was fury at what Vision imagined was a sense of pointlessness. The spies had spent a lifetime playing games between nations and agencies, and only they knew how many lives were lost in those games — and for what?

For SHIELD to be infiltrated by Hydra. For governments to show themselves corrupted by evil. For human beings to continue to be selfish and cruel and callous. In a world where such love was possible, where friendship and loyalty were given freely by pure spirits, where there was so much worth protecting, the evil was like a stain.

And Vision realized that he was starting to cry.

Sam grabbed his shoulder as the first tear slipped down his cheek. "Vision, you okay?"

"Oh," he said, still comprehending the nuance of his own grief. "Yes. But...I understand."

To his credit, Sam didn't ask. He just nodded. "Okay. We're here if you need us."

"Thank you."

As May and Peter set up the table at the western window, Vision allowed himself to drop back. His feelings were so new, he felt he owed the others the first opportunity to participate.

And as each person lit a candle and spoke to those they had lost, Vision watched as their minds began to fall into sync with one another. The swirls of grief and relief, of loss and trust, fell over each of the gathered humans. Steve's still echoed of guilt, especially when Tony spoke of his parents, and Natasha and Clint's patterns did not lose their hidden anger, but these patterns became more muted as each took turn after turn.

The candle Vision lit burned in a candlestick of dark, polished wood.

"I do not remember the lives lost while evil held the Mind Stone," he said softly. "But I feel their echoes. I remember their embers of light extinguished too soon. The Mind Stone reveres life, and though it cannot regret that it was misused, I do on its behalf." He felt tears coming again. "I am sorry I could not prevent what was done to you. I am sorry I could not save you."

When he stepped back, he felt Tony clap him on the shoulder. "I dunno if that Stone can hear me," he said softly, "but you can tell it — that's never happening again. Not while I'm around."

Vision blinked at him.

Tony shrugged. "Remember, I know something about weapons falling into the wrong hands. And the Stone never wanted to be one. Plus, it helped Peter. So…" he trailed off.

Vision couldn't help the smile that pulled at his expression. "You are a remarkable person, Tony Stark."

"You're just saying that 'cause I programmed you to," Tony said. But he winked, and Vision understood it was a joke and a deflection.

The evening continued, and it took the better part of two hours for everyone to take their time with their candles, remembering those they had lost and speaking to them with love. Clint and Natasha lit some candles together, and many of them they did not give names, but their minds showed greater calm after those moments. Vision watched his friends closely for grief that needed support, but it was everywhere in every breath. Even when May wept for her husband, or Sam for his partner, or Thor, bitterly, for his mother, someone held them up.

Finally, Peter reached for the last candle he had set aside. When he lit it, he shut his eyes and his whole spirit trembled.

"This is for everyone else," he said. "For everyone who was lost and no one could save. For everyone who isn't remembered. Just because we don't know your name doesn't mean we wouldn't help you if we could."

He drew in a breath that shook.

"For all the little guys who get hurt every day and no one sees."

Vision saw Tony almost move to put a hand on his back, but froze at the last moment.

"We can't...we can't change anything that happened," Peter said, his young voice cracking and coming back stronger and deeper. "But we...we all promise to do our best. To help everyone we can. Because that's what we do."

"That's what we do," Steve repeated softly.

"And if you're in trouble." Peter swallowed, and lifted his face to the window where the sky was dark over the city. "If you're in trouble and you need help, look for the Parkers. Look for us, and we'll be there for you."

Vision could feel the vow Peter was making, even if he didn't understand it entirely. Much about the boy had changed, his spirit growing ever brighter and stronger along with his physical form. But he knew that Peter was utterly sincere in his desire to help others, and his determination to do so.

Vision could only smile. It was admirable and kind, and no surprise from the boy the Mind Stone had chosen.

And when the Avengers all managed to put their hands on the pane of glass which probably wasn't originally designed to open, but Tony had installed it just for today, and the cold wind rushed in and extinguished the flames, Vision saw a calm peace settle on each of the minds around him. No matter their grief or guilt or anger, this human ritual brought them comfort in the end, comfort that bound them even if they could not see it for themselves.

He felt very privileged to be counted amongst them. Amongst all humans. They were wonderful, complicated, chaotic messes, and he would not trade this chance to spend time with them for any of the riches of the universe.

Because true riches, Vision knew, were held in that which could not be seen by any mortal eyes, only felt by mortal hearts.

-==OOO==-

Pepper settled in the warm chair by the fireplace, feeling utterly content.

"This," she said to Tony who was sitting on the floor with his legs out in front of him like a child, "was a particularly inspired idea."

Tony grinned at her, fiddling with Peter's new phone. "Thank you for letting us invade your space."

She smiled back.

The four of them had spent Christmas Eve as per the last two years, with the Hall of Science visit and the masquerade dinner and entertainment. But, this time, they had all piled in a limo afterwards and left the city for Pepper's house on the lake. It was a long drive, and pretty much everyone slept through most of it.

But there was something wonderful about pulling up outside the beautiful cabin on the private lake, decked out like the centerpiece from a holiday magazine. Evergreen wreaths and garlands and twinkling lights in every color made the house look downright magical, and the inside could have doubled as Santa's workshop. Pepper had spent several weekends here, with and without Tony, but May and Peter had only visited once or twice and only then in summer.

They had their own rooms — the lake house had enough space to house at least half the full Avengers team — and May and Peter had retreated to bed almost at once. But Tony, perpetually a night owl, had lit a fire in the big fireplace so he could put some finishing touches on the new cell phone he had for one of Peter's gifts. And Pepper had made herself a cup of hot apple cider and curled up beside him.

"I lay even odds on us being invaded in the morning by the rest of our friends," Pepper said, tucking a blanket around her and enjoying the warmth. "Invited or otherwise."

"Rhodey and Bruce are coming anyway because I did kind of invite them," Tony said, suddenly not meeting her eyes. "And Happy's driving them. I don't know about anybody else, but I guess I wouldn't be surprised."

"Were you going to tell me you were expecting guests?" Pepper asked without any real heat.

"Um."

"Right." She shook her head. "Don't worry. I'm not surprised anymore."

He looked up. "How sorry do I need to be?"

"If you invited all the Avengers and didn't tell me, very." Pepper gave him a look. "But I can't blame you for Rhodey and Bruce and Happy."

Tony looked back at Peter's phone and Pepper hid a smile behind her mug. As much as Tony had come to find comfort with his own emotions, he was always going to hesitate with them a little bit.

But Tony shook himself and set the phone down. He looked up at her, and Pepper didn't miss the light in his eyes.

"If it makes you feel better, I had to talk them out of being here tonight. I think they all wanted to watch me crash and burn."

Pepper blinked.

Tony was still wearing his tuxedo pants — and sitting on the floor, looking silly. But he started to dig in one of the pockets. He drew out a tiny black box.

"Tony." Pepper felt her heart begin to pound.

"It's you. It's always been you," he said. "And I am absolutely the worst disaster of a person on this planet and probably some others. I don't deserve you and I never will. But I...I'm hoping you can overlook that stuff. Because you're the only one who ever has. You...you always see the best in me. You made the best in me."

Pepper carefully set her cider on the hearth, her hands trembling.

"And...I mean, I have baggage, and not just the fun nightmare kind. I'm an Avenger, and I'm not...I can't hang up my repulsors any time soon. So that's a thing. And there's...there's Peter."

"Peter," Pepper interrupted, "is not baggage. He's a gift."

Tony smiled, brilliant and warm. "Miss Potts, you are a gift. And it's selfish, but I'm selfish, so I'm hoping you'll be my Christmas present."

He edged up onto one knee and held out the box.

The band was gold, but Pepper knew without asking that it was a gold-titanium alloy. The diamond was round and perfect and simple — and it glowed in the firelight like an arc reactor.

"When did you get this?" she found herself asking.

"Happy's been holding onto it for me. Since about...2008."

"Oh my god." Pepper laughed. "What made you decide to ask me now?"

"Honestly?" Tony's face quirked. "May bullied me into it. She tore up all my reasons for not asking already and told me to get it done or she'd do it for me."

"Oh my god." Pepper said again. "I love that woman."

"Yeah, I do, too." Tony shifted on his knee where he was still waiting. "But, uh, that's not what I'm trying to do here. So, unless I should start planning a lesbian thing for you two instead, do you think maybe you could put me out of my misery?"

"Tony." Pepper leaned down and cupped Tony's face. "I love you so much."

"Is that a yes, or do we need to do some contract negotiation first?" he asked, grinning. And his dark eyes were filled with the best kind of fire and warmth and light.

Pepper took the ring box from him, slipped the ring on her left ring-finger, and turned back to him. "I'm not changing my name," she whispered against his mouth.

"I don't want you to change a thing," Tony whispered back. "You're perfect, Miss Potts."

"Thank you, Mister Stark." She kissed him soundly.

Chapter Text

Ned was not good at keeping secrets.

He tried, absolutely. And he was doing really, really well with the whole Peter-was-sort-of-adopted-by-Iron-Man thing. He thought for sure he'd have said something by now that got Peter mad at him. Even in AcaDec practice, when stuff about Stark Industries came up a lot in both the history and the science categories, he was managing to keep his mouth shut most of the time.

But that secret was a little easier to keep just because it was meant to protect Peter.

(Also, the scary AI JARVIS still texted Ned sometimes, and as cool as that was, Ned didn't want to find out if JARVIS would, like, wipe his phone and erase his email account if he stepped out of line. He didn't think so, because Peter liked JARVIS. But evil AIs were a trope for a reason, right?)

This one was a lot harder.

"Come on, Penis! What was your big Christmas present? A whole loaf of bread?" Flash loomed over their lunch table, face twisted in a superior smirk. "Maybe a hand-me down pair of underwear? That would be about as much as you deserve!"

"Shut up, Flash," Peter said without any real heat.

Ned hated that Peter had, once again, become Flash's primary target. Not that he missed being the butt of Flash's gross personality most of the time, but he wouldn't have wished it on Peter, either.

"Don't you have better things to do than bother us?" Ned asked, trying to redirect Flash.

"Somebody has to make sure you two losers don't forget your place," Flash replied, tossing his head. "There's a natural order to things. People like me are at the top." He leaned close to Peter. "And orphan freaks and the freaks who follow them like dogs are at the bottom."

Ned watched Peter swallow, but he lifted his head calmly — Ned wished he had that kind of chill under pressure.

"Seems like somebody who has to keep punching down might not deserve to sit on top," Peter said.

Flash's face darkened in anger. "What did you just say to me, Penis?"

"You heard me." Peter glanced around, but no one was really paying any attention. "Maybe you should work on your own issues and quit taking them out on us for a change."

"Oh wow," Ned said. "Harsh, but super true."

What happened next happened too fast for Ned to follow. He saw Flash move, and then he felt his chair get shoved backwards.

A moment later, Peter's whole tray had been upended all over Peter, and Peter was on the floor, his chair tipped on top of him.

The entire lunchroom went silent.

"What's going on here?" a teacher demanded, walking up.

Flash turned, shooting Peter a dark look before he pasted on a fake smile. "Oh, these guys were messing around. I told them to stop, but I guess Parker is too dumb not to make a mess."

Ned opened his mouth to object, but felt a hand on his ankle. He looked down, and Peter was shaking his head. Even with milk dripping down his hair and the remains of his lunch all over his clothes, he was shaking his head.

Oh, Peter.

But Ned was a good friend, and he owed Peter one for not only saving him from the mess, but also sticking up for him. So he just nodded.

"I'm sorry," Peter said, sitting up and carefully picking up his things on the floor. "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," the teacher said, eyeing all three of them before walking off.

Flash gave them both the middle finger and flounced off, looking pleased with himself.

"Dude," Ned said softly, getting out of his chair to help Peter. "How come you didn't…?"

"It wouldn't help," Peter said. "If we get Flash in trouble, he's just going to get worse."

"They could make him leave us alone," Ned pointed out.

Peter shook his head, righting his chair and examining what was left of his food, then sighing. "Then he'd go find a new target. Just like when I left and he went after you. If he thinks he can get away with it with me, he won't go after anybody else."

"Peter." Ned stared at his best friend. "That is, like, super noble and stuff. But...are you sure May and, um, Tony would agree with you?"

"Pretty sure they wouldn't," Peter said, wrinkling his nose, "which is why you're not going to tell them."

"Okay, but what about?" And he gestured to Peter's phone, still mercifully on the table and safe from the food spillage.

"Don't worry about it," Peter said. "I've got it."

He was doing something Ned couldn't see, fiddling with something in his pocket.

"Dude, how did you even…?"

"Don't ask," Peter said, shaking his head. "Just...I can handle this. Okay?"

"Well." Ned looked at Peter's ruined outfit and food, and his own untouched lunch tray and clothes. "Okay. Just because I owe you one. Or, maybe more like a million. But…"

"Thanks, Ned." Peter put his phone in his pocket and stood with his ruin of a tray. "I'm going to go change. I've got extra clothes in my locker. I'll see you in class, okay?"

"Wait." Ned grabbed the rest of his sandwich from his tray and wrapped it in a napkin. "Here. You need this more than I do. Your food got trashed and I heard your stomach making noise in our last class."

Peter's eyebrows went up in surprise and Ned felt a flush of pride at being able to actually help Peter for once.

"Thanks, man."

But when Ned was left alone at their table, he sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

Not telling the whole school about Tony Stark was one thing.

Not telling Tony Stark about Flash was something else entirely.

"At least if Iron Man killed me, I would be cool for one second," he muttered to himself.

-==OOO==-

Peter was surprised to find Mister Hogan waiting for him outside the school the last Friday of January.

"Hi, Mister Hogan," he said slowly. "Um, what are you doing here?"

"Kid, it's Happy," Mister Hogan said, scowling. "And I'm here because Tony sent me."

Well, Peter had figured that out. "I thought he was busy tonight and I'd see him tomorrow?" he asked.

Mister Hogan sighed and opened the car door. "Get in."

Peter hesitated. This was the week that Aunt May was at her conference again, and Peter had really been looking forward to another whole night of being Spider-Man. Mister Stark had been busy, though they had planned to spend all of Saturday and Sunday together, and Peter had never been so elated to be on his own. Already he'd spent the last two days out on patrol every minute he wasn't in school or racing through homework as fast as possible. Friday nights, Peter had quickly learned, were full of more interesting things for Spider-Man to do, not just helping give directions or catching people who slipped on the icy sidewalks.

But Mister Hogan was glaring, so Peter slid into the car.

Once they were out of the parking lot, Peter cleared his throat. "So...what's up, then?"

"Tony decided he felt bad that you've been on your own since Wednesday and decided you should get to spend the whole weekend at the Compound with everybody."

Normally, that would be great. Peter loved the Compound, and getting to hang out with the Avengers and watch them train was awesome.

Why did it have to be this week?

"I mean, I've got a lot of homework," Peter tried. "I could, you know, work on it tonight and then have all weekend with Mister Stark starting tomorrow."

"Nope. Tony said not to let you talk me out of it."

Peter groaned. But Queens needs Spider-Man!

Wait.

Maybe this would give me a chance to practice some more. I could use an actual training room for once.

If I'm really, really, really careful.

"Can we at least grab some food on the way upstate?" Peter asked. "I kind of missed lunch."

That was a complete lie — he'd eaten his whole lunch and bought an extra sandwich besides. But another downside of gaining superpowers was a super metabolism to go with them, and now he was always hungry. He'd started getting cash on the card Mister Stark made him carry for emergencies, just little amounts at a time, so he could buy food while on patrol. It helped, but Peter hadn't actually felt full in months.

If he let himself eat as much as he really wanted, he knew someone would notice. And he couldn't let that happen.

"I guess," Mister Hogan said. "I'll hit a drive-thru after we get out of the city. That okay?"

"Perfect." Peter sat back. He decided to start in on his schoolwork — he didn't get motion sick anymore, and it would pass the time on the long drive. And then he would have less to do later, and that might mean he'd get more chances to sneak away and do some practicing.

Spider-Man was doing okay at swinging around Queens, but Peter knew he was going to be out of his depth if he had to actually do anything about a real bad guy. He needed to find a way to fight without actually knowing what he was doing.

And without really hurting anybody, obviously.

More than an hour later, they were out of the worst of the city traffic, Peter had demolished his fast food meal, and he was most of the way through his reading for the weekend — when Mister Hogan's phone rang.

Mister Hogan glanced back at Peter before he answered it without using the hands-free thing in the car. Blatantly illegal in New York, of course, and not something Peter saw him do often.

He buried his head in his book and let his enhanced senses stretch.

"Hap, how far out are you?"

"Don't you have JARVIS to tell you that?" Mister Hogan asked.

"Okay, that was a rhetorical question," Mister Stark said. "Look, I'm thinking about having you turn around."

"Do I even want to know what's going on?"

"We have an unexpected visitor at the Compound."

Mister Hogan drew in a breath. "Problem? If you need help — "

"Not something you can actually help me with, but thanks."

Then Peter could clearly hear another voice over the phone.

"Stark, you need not fear for the boy. I like him far better than you, as it stands."

Loki?

"Did I invite you into my private phone conversation?" Mister Stark asked, annoyed.

"Can you truly consider it private if you are speaking in full voice to your ceiling?" Loki replied.

Peter bit his tongue to keep from laughing at the acerbic tone.

"Boss?" Mister Hogan asked. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just...didn't expect to be sharing the Compound with Tall, Dark, and Dramatic over here." Mister Stark sighed. "Hang on."

The phone went completely quiet, and Peter realized Mister Stark must have asked JARVIS to mute the line. He was annoyed — if it was a real phone being cupped in somebody's hand, he could definitely have heard through it. So he waited, trying to keep from fidgeting in suspense.

"Okay." Mister Stark's voice came back. "So, turns out Loki actually likes Peter, which, not a surprise even if I'm not one-hundred percent comfortable with it. But that also means that, if you don't bring Peter, His Frostiness is probably going to go looking for him."

"Not probably, Stark."

"Right." Peter could hear the annoyed growl in Mister Stark's voice. "So Peter's better off coming here anyway where I can keep an eye on him in case King Trickster gets any ideas."

"No offense, Tony, but is there really anything you can do about it even if he does?" Mister Hogan asked.

Peter bit his tongue again at Loki's chuckle. "No, there is not."

"I hate you so much right now." Tony let out a breath. "So, yeah. I guess forget about turning around."

"Want me to tell him anything?" Mister Hogan offered.

"No. I don't want him to worry."

"Stark, you are an idiot. Your son doesn't fear me, and he need not. That you do is gratifying, but increasingly annoying."

"Great. This is going to be a weekend I'm going to regret." Peter could actually hear the sound of Mister Stark's hand passing over his hair. "See you when you get here, Hap."

And the call ended.

Peter decided he should keep up appearances and, after Mister Hogan put the phone down, asked, "What was that all about?"

"Nothing, kid," Mister Hogan said. "Just sit tight. Keep working on homework. Nothing to worry about."

Yeah, Peter was definitely not going to be able to focus on homework now.

-==OOO==-

It wasn't that Tony didn't trust Loki.

Okay, it was partially that. He didn't fully trust him. There was no scenario where Tony was entirely comfortable leaving Peter — or anybody, but especially puppy-innocent Peter with the self-preservation instincts of a lemming — with the guy who brought an army to Manhattan. Yeah, Loki had been better during the Mind Stone thing, but one good deed did not a trusted companion make.

But it wasn't only that.

"So," Tony said, affecting a casual air and leaning on the wall in just the right place to be able to see the long driveway that led to the Compound, "feel like sharing with the rest of us what brings you to Earth? King stuff getting boring?"

Loki had draped himself on a chair, and most of the Avengers were also busy finding casual reasons to hang out nearby. Rhodey was away on a military thing and Clint was off with his family, so Sam and Bruce were working on dinner. Steve had a book in his lap that he hadn't opened once. Natasha had taken up a position mirroring Tony's. Thor sat on the couch, grinning ear-to-ear as if he had won the lottery. In contrast, Vision sat beside him, face neutral.

"Am I not permitted to visit the denizens of my other realms?" Loki asked, curling his expression in a way Tony was certain was deliberately meant to get under his skin.

And it was working, damn it.

"You are always welcome here!" Thor boomed. "I had not thought to see you so soon, brother."

Loki shook his head at Thor's exuberance. "I can hardly allow myself to become predictable, Thor."

"Should we be expecting King Odin as well?" Vision asked.

"I have no idea." Loki stretched, at ease. "His affairs are his own except when he has opinions on mine. But I believe he is enjoying his retirement, as it were."

Sam paused his chopping of vegetables and leaned on the kitchen island. "If you're planning to stay a while, we should make a plan. Maybe," and Sam's smirk was knowing and daring, "if we get you to like Earth enough, you won't try bringing an army back again."

Tony wasn't sure if Loki laughing in response made him feel better or worse.

"The revels of Midgard do not interest me, Falcon," he said. "And I think it more likely that any army I were to bring to your shores again would come not to conquer, but to defend. However," and his smile went sharp as a blade, "one never can know the future."

"See, that right there is why we met you outside with all the guns," Tony pointed out. "You pretend to be a benevolent king and then you low-key threaten us."

"Ah, but such is how the game is played."

"Perhaps, brother," Thor said, trying to interrupt before Loki's enjoyment caused a real problem, "you could tell us the true reason for your visit."

Loki glanced at Thor, but fixed his eyes on Tony. Then he shrugged. "No, I don't think I will."

That, that right there, was the problem. Even if he could trust Loki to an extent, he didn't at all like not knowing why he was here. And since Tony was absolutely certain Loki didn't do anything without a purpose, that ignorance set every one of his instincts on edge.

"Loki." Steve was using his Captain America voice. "If you really are plotting something…"

"You would not know until I wished you to know," Loki interrupted. "Now, Captain, relax your guard. If it will ease your minds, I shall give you my word upon the throne of Asgard that I mean no harm to any of you, nor to Midgard itself."

"You couldn't have said that earlier?" Natasha asked, and Tony knew by the steady focus in her face that she was reading Loki more keenly than anyone else could.

"What would be the fun in that?"

"Not giving us all anxiety, for one," Bruce put in.

At that, Tony thought Loki's expression might have flickered slightly, but it also could have been a trick of the light.

"Then you are poor warriors indeed if you fear each day and the battles it may bring."

"Brother," Thor said, leaning forward, "I will not allow you to insult my friends or their courage."

"Oh, settle down, Thor. It's all in good fun."

Well, Tony was glad somebody was having fun. He certainly wasn't.

An hour and a half after he'd called Happy, he spotted the town car finally pulling up to the Compound. By then, the food was nearly ready, Loki had insulted the Avengers as a whole and each individual member at least twice, Thor had shouted three or four times, and Tony had considered calling a suit about every five minutes. He still wasn't wholly comfortable with the idea of Peter being here, but the only thing worse than Loki doing anything to Peter was Loki doing something to Peter in Queens where the entire team wasn't on high alert and ready to protect him.

Tony made sure that JARVIS had Peter's evac suit ready to go at a moment's notice even as he made his way down to meet the kid at the door.

"Thanks for the ride, Mister Hogan!" Peter said as he clambered out of the back seat, stuffing his books and papers haphazardly into his backpack.

"It's Happy, kid," Happy yelled back. Then he locked eyes with Tony. "Need me to hang around a while?"

Tony appreciated the offer, but shook his head. "Stay with Pepper. But thanks."

Happy nodded, his eyes as serious as the promise in them. Tony felt reassured — yeah, he had to deal with a god of chaos with unknown motives, but he had his best man watching over Pepper when he couldn't be there. Happy would keep Pepper safe. Tony knew it without a doubt.

"So," Tony said, clapping a hand on Peter's shoulder and leading him in, noticing again that the kid must be growing. His shoulder was not only a little higher than he was used to, but it had greater definition. "We have a guest, it seems."

"Oh? Who?" Peter asked.

"Me."

Tony didn't flinch because he'd expected as much from Loki — dramatic entrances were very much in the guy's character. So the flash of green light that flickered away to reveal him standing in front of them didn't make Tony jump.

It didn't make Peter jump, either, actually. Tony resolved to try working on Peter's survival instincts soon.

"Oh wow! Hi, Prince Loki!"

Loki's face went cold. "Child, we spoke about this. You are intelligent enough to call me by my name when I have commanded you to do so."

"Uh, he doesn't take orders from you, bub," Tony said.

Peter was undeterred, his face alight. "It just seems weird," he said. "Even JARVIS doesn't call you just Loki."

"Well, that is because I do not like JARVIS or his creator well enough to permit such an impertinence, though I seem little able to prevent it in the case of Stark himself. But you have lifted Mjolnir, and you readily call Odin 'Grandfather.' I expect you to do as I ask, Peter."

Tony could feel a threat there, and he bristled. But Peter just nodded.

"I'll try, Loki."

Tony's ire instantly changed targets. "Seriously, kid, what is it going to take to get you to call me Tony? You drop the title for Spooky McGee over there, but not me?"

"Sorry, padrino," Peter said, not at all sorry, the little twerp.

"Sir," JARVIS spoke from above, "Doctor Banner would like me to inform you that they are beginning to set out supper if you and young Sir are ready to join them."

"Hungry, kid?" Tony asked.

Peter nodded. "So hungry." He turned to Loki. "Will you eat with us, too?"

"See that, Stark?" Loki raised an eyebrow. "You could learn the lessons of common hospitality from your young one."

"Hey, if you think I'm a bad host, you're welcome to head back to Asgard any time," Tony said, keeping his tight grip on Peter's shoulder.

"And miss my opportunity to see you all so dreadfully uncomfortable while you attempt to suss out my dastardly plot?" Loki looked positively delighted. "Not for the riches of the cosmos."

"You're just playing, though, right?" Peter asked, and Tony could feel him tensing under his hand. "You're not really here to hurt anyone, are you?"

Tony was surprised to see Loki pause slightly at that.

"Do you doubt me as well, Starkson?"

Tony felt his face get warm at the name and had to make himself pay attention.

"No." Peter shook his head. "Maybe I should, but I don't. But...jokes that make other people uncomfortable aren't that funny. And I've kind of had it with bullies for a while. So I don't care if you're just goofing around, but I don't actually want anyone to be hurt."

"I assure you, I have hurt no one," Loki said.

"Hmm." Peter's face screwed up, thinking. "Are you sure that's true?"

Loki's face did something Tony couldn't quite track, but it settled into an almost soft expression.

"I fear I have fallen prey to the same fallacy which is common to these other mortals. I have remembered that you are a child and forgotten that the Mind Stone and Mjolnir found you worthy." He held out a hand. "Peter Starkson, for your sake I shall try to blunt my sharpened tongue. You alone may bespeak me if it threatens to cut too deeply. But I want something in return."

"Hey, hold on." Tony interposed himself before Peter could take his hand. "There will be no bargaining with my kid, Evil Elrond."

Peter sniggered behind him.

"I only ask," Loki said, looking past Tony presumably to Peter, "that he continues to be frank with me. I have given him a measure of trust — I expect his trust in return."

Something was underneath that, something Tony couldn't identify. He turned to Peter to see the kid's eyes wide, and he was swallowing thickly. "Underoos?"

"No, it's okay." Peter was quick to shake himself back to something approaching normal. "I can...I can promise that, can't I?"

Tony hated that he couldn't think of a way out of it. If Peter was going to keep Loki from going off the deep end, that was a good thing. Even better if he could get Loki to quit riling up the whole team, Tony included, just for his own amusement. Then they might get through this visit without violence. But it sounded like Loki wanted something specific from Peter — and Tony had a feeling Peter had some idea what it was. But he didn't know.

It was so profoundly upsetting to think that Loki knew something about his kid that he didn't.

"You don't have to…" Tony stopped. The only advantage Peter had right now was being able to make a deal with Loki. If he put conditions in, so could Loki. He sighed. "It's your call, mini me."

But Tony faced Loki. "Just remember, you do anything to my kid, anything I don't like, and I'll come down on you like a hundred Hulks couldn't dream of."

Loki's smile was a little lazy. "I understand, Craftsman. I will not harm your precious child. He is and ever shall be safe in my care. He, unlike the rest of you bothersome mortals, is worth something."

Somehow, Tony didn't feel a whole lot better. But he let Peter step forward and grip Loki's hand.

"Now," Loki said, his whole expression radiating deep satisfaction, "let us away to this meager feast. The child is hungry, Stark. You are a poor guardian if you do not care for his needs above all others."

Tony didn't swear at him only because Peter was right there. But he made sure Loki saw his expression.

Loki smirked in his face in response.

Oh, this was going to be a long evening.

-==OOO==-

Loki had decided he must visit Midgard more often. These Avengers were absolutely delightful companions — just as quick to suspicion as Thor's friends, but significantly more willing to engage in clever repartee rather than simply and constantly threatening violence. The Warriors Three and Sif had eventually learned some rudimentary skills in combating Loki properly in the realm of rhetoric, but these mortals were far more advanced.

And once engaged, many of the Avengers were willing to test their sharpened wits against Loki's own. He had not had so many against whom to spar in ages.

Also, the Midgardian use of sarcasm was a breath of fresh air. Loki did not have to explain that his every word was meant to be taken with an opposite meaning here — in fact, Stark himself was a genuine master of sarcasm and Loki enjoyed trading barbs with him as quickly as the man could answer back.

Midgardians were backwards in many ways, uncultured and uncivilized, but at least they were able with wit and humor. That was far more than could be said for Asgard.

After the humble meal, Loki was invited by Peter to join them in what he called a tradition of watching some form of entertainment.

"It's not a good representation of, you know, anything real," Peter was quick to say. "But it's fun and exciting and I feel like you might understand one of the characters, kind of, even if he's sort of a bad guy. In a good way!"

Loki chuckled and actually ruffled the boy's hair. "It cannot be more tiresome than the recitation of certain long sagas. If this is a common type of entertainment on Midgard, I should appreciate learning about it."

And so Loki watched his first 'movie' on Midgard — a fanciful tale of a girl besieged by a clever antagonist and set against impossible odds. The girl and her companions Loki found somewhat irritating (except when he could liken Thor to the brainless oaf who called himself a knight), but he appreciated the villain. This Goblin King was true to his word, if he manipulated the rules to his liking. He ruled absolutely, and yet the land clearly flourished under his hand. And while of course the doe-eyed hero must triumph over the scheming sorcerer, her victory was neither a disgrace nor did it impugn Jareth's own honor.

As if hero and villain could coexist. As if peace was possible on either side of the conflict. As if the hero's growth did not have to come at the expense of the one she overcame.

Loki felt certain he would have benefited greatly if this was the mold of storytelling in Asgard.

"Did you like it?" Peter asked when it was over.

Loki gave him an honest smile. "Indeed. I should be gratified to experience other such stories with you, young one."

"Oh, good." Peter grinned. "I was actually thinking about showing you The Princess Bride next. Not right now, but sometime. My favorites are all the Star Wars and other fantasy and sci-fi, but I feel like those are a better fit for you."

"I am willing to trust to your judgment, child."

"I'll make a whole list," Peter said. "And then any time you come to visit, we can watch a few. That's what I've been doing with the other Avengers, too, especially Captain Rogers who hasn't seen a bunch since they all came out when he was frozen and everything."

"Hey, kid." Stark reached over to pat his child on the shoulder; Loki had not missed that Stark never let the boy out of his own reach for as long as Loki was near. "Let's not assume we'll be seeing His Creepiness all that often, okay?"

"Oh, with entertainments such as these, I believe you shall indeed see me," Loki said, enjoying how sour that made the Craftsman look.

But he decided now was the moment for him to make an exit. He did, after all, need such watchfulness to relax a bit if he was to accomplish his aim for this visit. So he rose and stepped away from the crowded seating.

"I believe the time difference between Asgard and Midgard is such that I feel the fatigue of the day at last upon me. Is there a place where I can rest for the night — perhaps the chambers I used previously?" He sent Stark an arch look. "Or can you not show me even so much hospitality?"

"Of course we shall," Thor was quick to say over what might have been objections. "JARVIS, is Loki's room still prepared for him as it was before?"

"Indeed, Prince Thor," the mechanical voice spoke.

"Oh, fine." Stark shook his head. "Slumber party for everyone, I guess."

Loki nodded and accepted the measure of trust implicit in the statement. "Then I shall bid you all good night. Thank you for sharing your tradition with me, Peter."

"You're welcome. Good night, Loki!"

No one else bid him such a cheerful farewell, but Loki did not expect anything else.

He retreated to the room that had been his to use while he and Odin worked on the Mind Stone trapped in the boy's body. There, he carefully reactivated all the protective and watchful runes he had cast before, rendering the space under his own control, including banishing the annoyingly watchful being in the building. That done, Loki promptly turned himself imperceptible and returned to watch the mortals.

"Thor, are you sure you don't know why Loki's here?" the Captain was asking.

Thor shook his head. "No. But I assure you, he does not mean any harm."

"How, exactly, do you know that?" the Falcon asked. "And I'm saying this as someone who actually wants to believe he's on the up-and-up here. But we have to be at least a little careful, right?"

"Do we?" That was Peter, whom the adults had clearly forgotten was in the room. "I mean, he helped me and he didn't hurt anybody last time. You even told me that he was all brainwashed and stuff. So...I mean, shouldn't we kind of start over with him?"

"You're not wrong," the Captain said. "But even if his intentions are good, his timing is interesting. Loki doesn't strike me as the kind of person who does anything without reason."

"So what brings him here now?" the doctor Banner asked. "Could it just be...like...a visit?"

Loki smirked at how Thor's face lit up at the idea.

Stark sighed and shrugged. "Look, I'm all for second chances. And Loki saved my kid, so I owe the guy one. But I don't like not knowing what he's up to. Even if it's good. Cap's right. Loki came for a reason. And until we know what it is, I'm keeping an eye out."

Then he poked Peter in the shoulder.

"And, kid, if he gets any ideas about whisking you off to his own land like David Bowie, you better believe I'll blow his Escher castle to little bits."

Peter laughed. "I promise never to summon goblins to take me away, Mister Stark."

"It might have nothing to do with us, or the Earth," Vision said, ignoring their byplay. "Prince Loki is as determined to thwart the threat of Thanos and the Infinity Stones as we ourselves. Perhaps he is following a lead, or otherwise working towards something we can use to defend the Mind Stone."

"Then wouldn't he tell us?" the Widow asked.

"My brother rarely confides in anyone unless he has no alternative," Thor offered.

"No surprise there," she said.

Loki smiled. It was always so gratifying to know when one's aims have been successfully obscured. Which also meant he was not the only one keeping secrets well.

Loki retreated to the sleeping quarters, but not his own. Instead, he entered another's room and cast the same protective runes. Then he settled down to wait.

Some time later, he heard voices in the hallway. A fond goodnight was wished, and the door opened.

Loki waited until the door was fully shut before he dropped his glamour and revealed himself.

"Loki!"

"Peace, child." Loki held up his hands. "Remember, I shall never harm you."

Peter swallowed, but nodded. "Right. So, um, why are you here?"

Loki smiled. "Because you need help, young one. Far more than you realize."

"Uh." Peter twisted his face up in a hilarious attempt at dissembling. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Loki shook his head. "I am the God of Lies, Peter. Do not attempt to ply them on me. You do not have the skill."

Peter sat on the edge of his bed, his face now morphed to one of concern. "Um."

"Recall if you will that Heimdall sees all, even through the bauble that was Odin's gift to you," Loki said, placing himself across from the boy. "And I have my own arts of watching over the realms as well. You have fooled all others, but you will not fool me."

He leaned forward.

"You have become a hero, young one. And you are going to get yourself killed."

"No, I'm not!" Peter's hands clenched into fists. "I'm helping people!"

Loki scowled. "Yes. Until some miscreant lunges at you with a knife, or one of your primitive firearms. Until you face an opponent who actually fights back against you. And on that day, your blood will be spilled and I will not have it."

Peter looked at him and his brown eyes were filled with conviction.

"I know it's dangerous. But I'm not going to stop helping people just because I might get hurt. I...I got these powers somehow. If I don't use them…" He sighed. "The Avengers are dealing with Hydra and that Thanos guy. They don't...nobody is looking out for just...regular people."

"I am not suggesting your efforts are not noble," Loki said.

"You can't make me stop." Peter stood, then, holding himself tall and proud. "I'm sorry if that's why you came. Because I'm doing the right thing and I'm not going to let you stop me."

"Foolish child." Loki reached forward and actually set a hand on the boy's head. "I am not here to stop you. I am here to help you."

Chapter Text

Peter had never been so tired in his entire life.

"Ugh."

"Have you finally reached the point where you cannot even conceive of a clever comeback?" Loki asked from somewhere above.

Peter was stretched out on the ground, and the grass was cool on his burning skin, so he didn't really see any point in leaving its comfort.

"Huhm," he managed.

"Well, then perhaps we should stop for now." Loki's tone meant he was smiling; Peter could tell. "You have most certainly improved in these last hours."

Peter meant to say 'thanks.' But with his face mashed in the grass, it came out, "Fantz."

Suddenly a hand alighted on his neck, and it was icy cold. Peter shivered, but his muscles appreciated it.

"If it offers you any comfort, you are not hopeless as a warrior," Loki said. "You will never be one such as Thor or the Warriors Three. You have their strength, but not their ferocity. Like the spider that gifted you its powers, you are better suited to cleverly drawing your opponents into your web, real or otherwise, and catching them unawares."

Peter forced his head to turn so he could clearly enunciate, "Still don't want to hurt people."

"Yes, child, I am aware." Loki sighed and the cold hand moved to a particularly sore spot between Peter's shoulder-blades. "But you can immobilize your opponents well enough, and evade their attacks. Someday, I will require you to learn actual offense and defense, but this will do for a beginning."

"Do I really have to learn to fight?"

"Yes." And that was sharp in a way Loki had never been with Peter, so he raised his head a bit. Loki's eyes glittered. "You intend to follow your Wyrd where it leads, and it will inevitably lead you to battle. I will not have you there unable to keep yourself from harm."

"But…"

"Enough. Someday, Peter Starkson, a battle may be resolved by only your death or that of your enemy. I know you would do all in your power to prevent it. But, should that day come, you must live and let your opponent die. And I will see you prepared for nothing less."

Peter sighed, too tired to argue. But not too tired to be curious.

"Why?"

Loki chuckled. "Is it not obvious, young one? I like you."

"Yeah but this…" He groaned as Loki's icy hand found another sore muscle. "Seems like a lot of trouble."

"How old are you, child?"

"Fourteen."

"I am thousands of your years old, Peter. The curse of such longevity is that each year, each day, is more tedious than the last, for there is rarely anything new to do. We may practice or enhance our skills, but no diversion satisfies for long, for all has been done many times before. However, I have never trained a young warrior myself, and certainly not one who is mortal and gifted with powers that strain the imagination."

"So...basically, you're bored? And this is fun?"

"And I would spend the time you have ensuring it is not cut short."

"Oh."

Peter let out a breath and slowly rolled onto his back.

The forest around them was quiet. It was also littered with the remains of Peter's webs, strewn everywhere from using them to dodge, attack, even confuse Loki. None of which worked, of course, but it was worth a try. In one middle-of-the-night training session, Peter had learned a hundred new things, and gotten his butt handed to him a thousand times over.

But at last his web-swinging was catching up to the speed of his reflexes. If he had learned anything for sure, it was how to maneuver in the air as fast as his enhanced speed could go.

"Now." Loki reached over and caught one of Peter's hands in his own. Peter hadn't realized his fingers were stuck curled into the position for firing his web shooters. Loki's hands were actually faintly blue as their freezing cold began working through the muscle soreness. "This was a beginning, but this cannot be enough. Unless you will ask Stark and the others to train you themselves."

"No." Peter started to sit up, groaned, and gave up. "No, they can't know. They'd never let me keep doing this if they knew."

"Are they so wrong to wish to protect you, child?"

Peter was grateful Loki didn't ask that like he was concerned — it was more like he was only curious.

"I know I'm just a kid, but I'm also strong enough to pick up a bus. They...they've been looking out for me this whole time. Saving me from bullies and Hydra and the Mind Stone. And they have real, actual evil to deal with. I need to show them that I can handle myself, that they don't need to worry. And then I can just...do my thing."

"And what thing is that?"

"Be a friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man. Who, maybe, if aliens came back or Thanos or something, could jump in and help the Avengers if they needed it."

Loki's hands stilled.

Peter blinked. Loki's eyes were doing something weird. "Um, are you okay?"

"Yes." Loki pulled Peter into a sitting position — which his muscles were not ready for at all. "Do not imagine that you shall ever be allowed to face Thanos, Peter," Loki said. "If you must battle against petty thieves, I suppose I do not care. But not Thanos and his evil."

Peter was surprised at the intensity in Loki's face. "But, I mean, if he came here…"

"No." Loki shook his head. "I never wish for you to even speak his name. You are never to enter into battle against him, never to look upon him. Do you hear me, Peter?"

Peter heard. But he also couldn't lie. Not about this.

He met Loki's eyes. "If Thanos ever came to Earth, if he was going to hurt people, I can't promise not to protect someone from him."

Loki's eyes went dark. "You heroes. Always so quick to sacrifice yourselves for that which is of no matter."

"Innocent people always matter," Peter said softly.

"And that," Loki said, "is why I shall never be a hero. Well." He shook himself. "Then we shall simply ensure that Thanos never so much as approaches Midgard. But that is a problem for another day. For now, child, we must find another time you may practice in safety."

"How long are you staying?" Peter asked. "I'm here at the Compound all weekend."

"I can contrive to remain as long as you do," Loki said. "But I do not wish for Stark or the others to know that my presence is contingent upon yours. And that only suffices for another day. No, we must do something far cleverer."

Peter found himself smiling. "You sound like you have an idea."

"Indeed. I need only your permission and a little time." Loki paused, eyed Peter. "And an item."

"Okay. Um, what am I giving permission for?"

"There is an enchantment I can work which will allow me to appear to you as a shade only you can perceive. When you slip from your keepers, I can advise you if I am unable to leave Asgard. We will train each night you can spare some hours from sleep when my duties do not require my focus elsewhere."

Peter grinned. "That's awesome! Let's do it!"

"Very well. Then I need something of yours that you have with you at all times. Awake, asleep, in your most vulnerable state. Something you would never part with."

"Oh." Peter reached into his shirt and pulled out the Saint Joseph medal Mister Stark had given him on his birthday. "Will this work? I don't even take it off for gym class."

"Perfectly. I shall work my enchantment upon it and will return it to you by dawn." Loki held out a hand and Peter dropped it into his palm.

"If we're done, can we get something to eat on the way inside?" Peter asked. "I need a shower, but I think I need food even more."

"I concur that you need to bathe." Loki stood to his full height and pulled Peter up with him. Peter wobbled on his exhausted legs for a moment before they stood firm. "But yes, let us find you a feast."

"But you...I mean, the No-Seeing Eye from Grandfather Odin only keeps JARVIS from really seeing me. Can you actually keep anybody from noticing us eating in the kitchen?"

"Oh, child." Loki smirked at him. "Allow me to demonstrate."

Peter had absolutely no idea how Loki managed to walk them back to the Compound, get upstairs, conjure an entire literal feast (of which Peter ate the majority), banish the leftovers and the dishes, and still get Peter to his room so he could shower and catch some sleep not only without JARVIS noticing, but without anybody else being aware — in spite of the fact that Mister Wilson actually walked into the kitchen in the middle of the feast, got himself a glass of water, and left without ever seeing them.

Peter fell into his bed completely full for the first time in months, utterly exhausted, and happier than he thought possible. He was getting actual training from Loki. He would be able to be a hero for real, and protect people, and swing around without smashing into buildings. And he would have somebody he could talk to about it all while still keeping his secret from Aunt May and Mister Stark.

He fell into a heavy sleep, only waking when JARVIS called him from above to say that the Avengers were all eating brunch together.

Peter found his Saint Joseph medal sitting on the table beside his bed, looking exactly as it always had. He wondered what exactly Loki had done to it.

Would I even understand it if he told me? Magic is so cool.

Peter got dressed, pulled the medal on, tucking it under his shirt as always, and darted out into the hall. In spite of the workout, he felt no stiffness, no soreness at all. In fact, he felt more energized than ever.

"Hey, kid!" Mister Stark greeted him as he skidded into the room. "Just in time!"

"You look like you slept well," Doctor Banner said, smiling as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Nice dreams?"

"Yeah." Peter nodded, carefully not looking at where Loki was calmly sipping a mug of tea across the room. "The best."

-==OOO==-

The New York winter passed into spring without too many unexpected storms, literal or otherwise, and Tony felt uneasy about it. He wasn't used to things going well for months at a time.

The Avengers had not been asked to go on any missions for a while — Fury kept saying SHIELD was working on collecting information and that they should sit tight and be ready — and Tony was actually fine with that. His Mark 54 suit was ready to go if they needed it, and 55 and 56 after it, but not having to go and risk death was pretty good. He and Pepper had announced their engagement publicly, which was a whole thing, especially as they had not set a specific wedding date yet. Not because either of them weren't 'wholly committed' or whatever else the media people were saying; rather, they just didn't want to plan it and have to cancel at the last minute when something world-ending came up.

And Tony knew perfectly well that, as soon as he set a date, that's the day the world would be in peril. Even Pepper couldn't deny it. So they were waiting for a bit.

Peter was growing rapidly, and it was amazing and also kind of sad to see. He'd gained a handful of inches in height over the last six months, and his baby fat was being replaced with the leanness of an adult. But he remained the cheerful, kind boy Tony had known all along, and as long as that never changed, Tony swore he could deal with his kid growing up. Even if he also kind of hated the idea of his kid being, well, not a kid.

However, he was only fourteen. It's not like Peter was old enough to drive yet.

With the Avengers on a lull and nobody threatening Peter with bodily harm anymore, Tony found he could actually turn his attention to other things.

He eventually, of course, told Pepper about the paperwork he'd filed to make Peter Parker his legal heir and the future inheritor of Tony's ownership of SI. She had, actually, known about it in that mysterious way she had of anticipating everything he ever did.

"He's your son, Tony. Of course we're leaving SI to him," she'd said, looking at him like he was an idiot. "Just don't tell him yet. Let him grow up a little more first."

"I was thinking when he graduates college. Or turns twenty-one. Or...as long as I can manage to keep it under wraps."

She'd laughed at him. "Just make sure you tell May before you tell Peter," she'd said. "Then Peter can go freak out and she'll be there for him."

Yeah, Tony wasn't looking forward to doing that, either. Not that he thought May would be angry, but she wouldn't be able to keep it quiet any better than he could.

But with that part of the future secured, Tony began looking at other things. Primarily, the future of the Avengers.

Someday, he thought, Cap and I won't be doing this. Thor is functionally immortal, but Clint's already joking about hanging up his arrows. It's a matter of time before the original Avengers need to step down, and right now the only ones stepping up are Vision and Sam.

And that wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. The Avengers were needed, would always be needed, probably. And while he was nowhere near retiring yet, someday he would be. And he needed there to be someone else ready to pick up the slack.

So Tony had begun keeping an eye out for possible recruits.

That was how he stumbled onto a couple of shaky videos online of someone they were calling "Spider-Man." Mostly it was bystander footage shot on inferior phones of a red and blue shape flying around New York City. Still, it was a possible lead. If more heroes were going to pop up, inspired by the Avengers, he wanted to be ready to find them.

He'd asked JARVIS to let him know if any new information about the so-called Spider-Man appeared. Sightings started increasing, though most of them were still blurry and useless, and Tony had noticed they came more often over the weekend — suggesting the fledgling hero was stuck working a normal 9-to-5 job and could only go doing his vigilante thing when he was off work.

So he wasn't entirely surprised to get an alert on Monday towards the middle of April that there was a new Spider-Man video online.

"Sir," JARVIS said, "I believe you will not want to wait to see the newest Spider-Man video."

"Intriguing." Tony leaned back from where he had been experimenting with nanotech again — someday, he was going to get it right and then every Iron Man suit from then on would fit in his wallet — and gestured to push the latest schematics aside. "Run it, J."

The clip that came up was not what Tony had been expecting.

He watched, wide-eyed, as a car careened down a street in Queens at a speed that suggested someone on a lot of drugs or whose brakes had failed spectacularly. Tony's heart leapt into his throat as he watched people on the sidewalks diving out of the way, and he paused just to make sure none of them was Peter or May.

Unpausing the video, he actually flinched at the bus that pulled out in front of the runaway car, and the crumpled mess that resulted.

But, wait.

And there was Spider-Man, swinging away.

"JARVIS, run that back. Slowly."

Slowed down, the footage made it much more obvious what happened.

The car was barrelling towards the bus full of people, which had no ability to get out of its way. Then a figure in red and blue dropped to the street and caught the car, stopping it in its tracks. The front of the car crumpled, of course, but it never actually touched the bus and all the civilians inside. Then, as soon as the car was no longer a threat, Spider-Man left the scene.

"What's the math on that stop, J?" Tony asked, not trusting himself.

"The car likely weighs around three-thousand pounds, and my calculations suggest it was going approximately forty miles per hour. The energy in the system is therefore two hundred thousand foot-pounds of energy."

"And he just...stopped it." Tony sat back on his stool. "Could Cap do that?"

"It is doubtful. Given enough time to slow the car's momentum, yes, but not instantaneously."

"Huh." Tony ran a hand over his hair. "Okay. Yeah, we need to meet this guy. JARVIS, get on it. Backtrack any video you have to figure out his patterns, use whatever cameras you already control to track him, you know the drill. As soon as you've got an ID on him, I want to hear it."

"Yes, sir."

But all thoughts of Spider-Man went out of Tony's head only hours later when he was called into an emergency Avengers meeting.

"Hey, Cap. What's the big alarm for?" he asked, sauntering in with a tablet in his hands. He noted that the rest of the team was gathered, including Rhodey.

"Not sure. Fury will be on the line any minute," Steve said.

Tony settled into his chair, putting his feet up on the table. It always irritated Rhodey, Fury, and Cap, which was exactly why he did it. Then he ignored whatever chatter was going on around him to see if he could get any farther on the nanotech issue.

The screen lit up with Fury's face a few minutes later. "Sorry to call you unexpectedly, but we have a situation."

"There's always a situation," Sam muttered. Tony winked at him.

"Stark, we're going to need your AI to start combing through Western Europe. As soon as you get a hit, I'm expecting you folks to bring some old friends in."

"What friends?" Clint asked.

"First on the list is Baron Wolfgang von Strucker."

That got Tony's attention. "Wait a minute. Didn't we catch that guy already? Like, a year ago? Or am I misremembering our big bust in Sokovia?"

"Well, he escaped not long after we got him in SHIELD custody," Fury said.

"Director." Steve was pulling out the angry Captain voice. "Why weren't we informed that Strucker had escaped?"

"Well, at first, because you were dealing with a problem of your own regarding the Mind Stone and some Asgardian visitors abducting Stark's kid. After that, it wasn't high enough priority for you."

"You have a funny way of deciding which things we should prioritize," Rhodey said. "The man is an international terrorist with, if I recall correctly, the knowhow to make enhanced people for Hydra."

"Yes. And we had our own agents on it. But now we have received intel suggesting that he has teamed up with Brock Rumlow."

Steve actually got to his feet. "So now two of the most dangerous Hydra agents are out there working together? And you're only telling us this now?"

"Well, now is when we have proof they rendezvoused, so yeah, I'm telling you now." Fury glared through the screen. "Stark, you on it?"

"Way ahead of you." As soon as he'd mentioned Strucker's name, Tony had started the search and now he had JARVIS pausing other extraneous work to focus on digging through facial recognition software everywhere they could access it.

"Anything else you're not telling us, sir?" Natasha asked.

"This is unconfirmed, but when Strucker left SHIELD custody, it's possible he did so with the help of the two enhanced individuals you tangled with in Sokovia."

"So…" Bruce was looking a little peeved. "Two high-level Hydra agents and two enhanced Hydra agents, neither of whom we ever really saw or could stop when we tried? That sounds fun."

"And that's why this is now a job for the Avengers," Fury said. "Find them, muck up whatever they're doing, and bring them in. As soon as you can."

"Understood," Steve said. "We'll report when we have something."

"Good hunting, Avengers." And Fury ended the call.

"Tony," Steve said, turning to him, "you've got the search."

"Yeah, already aware of that, Spangles." Tony was tossing screens up around him so he could help JARVIS exclude data and search faster. "Unless you have any useful suggestions, I could use some room to work."

"No. We'll give you space. But everybody, be ready to go as soon as Tony has a location for us."

Various noises of assent passed over Tony's head and the next time he looked up, he was alone in the conference room.

"Well, at least they know when to get out of my hair." He stood and moved to the big screen at the end of the room. "JARVIS, let's go, buddy. We don't want to keep the good captain waiting."

"No, sir."

"Hey." Tony paused. "Fury doesn't know anything about the James Ryan Protocol, does he?"

"I do not believe so, sir. I show no breaches that would leak that information beyond my matrix and yourself."

"Well, let's not let it go to waste, then. Scan the Ryan files to see if you can spot our evil-doers while you're at the rest of it."

"At once, sir."

Tony sighed. "I knew something was coming. Something is always coming."

-==OOO==-

Steve still didn't really know enough about technology to know how long things were supposed to take, and asking Tony every few minutes for an update was a quick way to get thrown off the floor, so he contented himself with doing a full equipment check for the team while he was waiting. He didn't have the mechanical knowledge that Tony did, obviously, but he could look at the basic things.

He started with Sam's gear and was working his way towards his own when Nat slipped into the room.

"Everything shipshape?" she asked.

"As far as I can tell," Steve admitted. He skipped over her locker of stuff and moved to the crate of medical supplies.

"Did you go poking your fingers in the Iron Man suit again? Because he'll kill you if you did," Nat said. She smoothly moved to her own gear and began her run-through of checks.

"No." Steve huffed a laugh. "Even if I did poke at it, it's not like I can tell if the suit is good to go or not. They don't exactly have seams to rip."

Nat chuckled. "You could always ask JARVIS."

"I don't want to split his focus. He's helping Tony."

"Well, a little birdie has it that they might be onto something, so it probably won't be long now."

Steve felt his eyebrows go up. "Would that birdie be somebody crawling through vents again?"

"You know I don't reveal my sources." Nat shook her hair back. "You okay with this one, Rogers?"

"Yes?" He frowned. "Should I not be okay?"

"Well. Rumlow did kind of betray us all to Hydra. And he used your old friend to do it."

Steve swallowed the sudden taste of bile in the back of his throat. "Yeah. I know."

Nat sat, quietly. And Steve didn't know whether he appreciated it or hated it that she had a way of just waiting, motionless and expressionless, that always, always made him spill his guts to her.

"If it's true that Strucker is teaming up with Rumlow, then this might be the mission that leads us to Bucky." He said. "And I...I don't know if I hope that they know something, or if I hope they don't. Because if they do, maybe we find him. But if they don't...it means Buck's still safe somewhere."

"Either way," Nat said lightly, "you might find out what they did to him."

Steve nodded. "And maybe I can make it right for him."

"Is that Captain America levying a threat I hear?"

Steve looked away. "We're not called the Knights of Chivalry, Nat. We're Avengers. And, yeah. If I get the chance to avenge whatever Hydra did to Bucky, I'm going to take it." He trained his gaze sightlessly before him. "That a problem?"

"Not for me," Nat said. "But sounds like the sort of thing you should run by your platonic life-partner or whatever you and Tony call each other."

Steve couldn't help the smile that cracked around his edges. "Friends. Just friends."

"If you say so." Now Nat was fishing and he could tell, and he knew she was letting him see it, and that only made him more uncomfortable. "And what's Bucky Barnes to you, then, Rogers? Or would you go this far for any of us?"

"I would...I would go to the ends of the Earth for the team," Steve said, and it was true and still tasted sour. "But Bucky...I would walk into Hell barefoot for him. He's...he's my best friend. My brother. He's the reason I became Captain America. And…"

He looked down at his hands.

"I'm not what they say, you know. I'm not the human embodiment of virtue. I'm just a guy trying to do the right thing. But...it was always easier to figure out what the right thing was when I had Buck at my side. I think I see clearer with him."

"Hmm." Nat was watching him without even turning her head to him. "In this business, we call that a liability."

"Loyalty should never be a liability."

"And that," Nat said, "is why you're not all bad even with your better half gone. But be careful, Steve."

He heard a real concern in that and glanced up at her.

Nat's eyes were dark and steady. "We both know there's something you found out from Hydra that you're not sharing. It's killing you, and nobody's caught on yet, but someday, they will. And it doesn't take being a spy for me to know it might connect with Bucky Barnes."

Steve sucked in a breath, but didn't trust his voice.

Nat turned fully to him. "Clint is my partner, my brother. I love his kids like they were my own. I would die for him in a heartbeat. And if you asked me to choose between Clint and this team, I would still choose the team. So before you get too much closer to finding Bucky, you better figure out what you would choose. Because you might have to."

And Nat rose, setting aside her gear which she had barely checked during their conversation, to leave him to his thoughts.

So when Steve got word from JARVIS not long after that Tony had found something, it was with a badly troubled heart that he gathered with the other Avengers.

"Well, good news, bad news," Tony said as soon as they were all in the room. "Good news — we found them. Or, at least, I think we did. Bad news, they're not going to be easy to get."

"Where?" Rhodey asked.

"Somewhere along the Italian-Swiss border." Tony waved and a map appeared. "JARVIS got a good shot of Rumlow picking up some supplies in a little town. Some kids on a ski trip posted the pic on social media."

"Which means no actual surveillance in the area," Clint said.

"And that's probably why SHIELD missed it." Tony nodded. "Also, that area is remote on a good day, and the border itself is pretty open. The guards on either side don't stop to check passports on the roads, and that's where there are roads."

"Uh, that means we have an additional problem," Rhodey said. "Switzerland is neutral. Not part of the EU or NATO. Technically, I'm not even sure SHIELD is allowed to operate there."

"Then we hope they're on the Italian side," Steve said. "Because if that's where they're hiding, we need to go in."

"I'm not an expert in international law," Sam said, "but are we sure that's even legal?"

"It's a gray area," Nat said. "Most of the time SHEILD works in Switzerland, we get in and out before anybody knows we're there. If it doesn't get us in trouble with the UN, it's counted as a success."

"Oh, good. Because what SHIELD needs is more playing fast and loose with the law," Bruce muttered. "That's great for proving they're not actually a scary organization."

"It's probably why they're there," Clint pointed out. "Hard to spot them in the first place, and an international disaster if we go in after them."

"If it helps," Thor offered, "all of Midgard is under my protection as a prince of Asgard. So such boundaries do not apply to me."

"Yeah, that's not helpful at all," Rhodey said.

Steve leaned forward. "Look, this isn't about SHIELD or the Avengers. This is about us. Strucker and Rumlow are dangerous. If they have even two enhanced fighters, then they're as bad as it gets. We need to take them down."

"Fine, but quietly, right?" Tony said. "Rhodey, you sit this one out so we don't cause an international incident with active military personnel, but the rest of us are, like, contractors. As long as we can get in and out without issue, we'd be good."

"That's not exactly how international law actually works," Vision said.

"Anyway." Steve tried to get them back on track. "If we do this, Tony's right. It has to be quiet. Thor, Vision, I think that means you stay behind with Rhodes."

"I can be subtle," Vision said.

Clint shook his head. "Your giant yellow laser superpower is not subtle, buddy. Plus, SHIELD only barely got NATO to acknowledge you as a person and not a sentient weapon. This would be a bad time to test out how far they're willing to tolerate you." He shrugged. "No offense."

"Stark is not subtle either," Thor said, a little petulantly.

"No, but we need his tech," Nat said. "And, of all of us, he has the most connections to get him out of trouble if he gets into it."

"Yeah, that's a happy consequence of my having blown stuff up in all kinds of people's backyards," Tony said.

"So." Steve looked around. "Tony, Clint, Nat, me, Sam, Bruce…"

"Um, no please." Bruce said, raising his hand as he did when he was nervous. "Or, um, fine if I go, but no Code Green. That's even less subtle than Thor."

"Fair enough." Steve let out a breath. "Six is pretty thin on the ground even for an infiltration if we're dealing with Rumlow, Strucker, and two enhanced."

"Well." Sam was leaning back, thinking. "If it's under the radar you want, I might know a guy."

"Who?"

"Is this that guy who messed up your pack at the Compound a while back?" Tony asked.

Steve blinked. "Um, what?"

Sam looked sheepish. "I didn't want it to get out that I got my butt handed to me by a guy the size of a flea. He's got shrinking powers. Not what I'd call a smooth operator, but he wasn't terrible. Calls himself Ant-Man."

"Would he come if we asked for help?" Rhodey wanted to know. "I'd feel a lot better if we had an ace in our pocket for our Hydra friends that they didn't see coming. Possibly literally."

"Seemed to be kind of a fanboy, so I'd say yeah," Sam said.

"JARVIS, anything yet on Spider-Man?" Tony asked. At the many curious looks, he shrugged. "Another hero. Super strength, sticks to stuff, you haven't heard of him? He's been getting cats out of trees right here in the city for months."

"Everybody's got a gimmick," Sam groused.

"Unfortunately, no, sir. I have been unable to pinpoint any probable identity for the hero known online as Spider-Man," JARVIS reported. "However, I do have a match on facial recognition for the person known as Ant-Man from his visit to the Compound. His name is Scott Lang."

The screen filled with a brief clip of someone too small to see suddenly becoming normal-person sized, taking off his mask, and introducing himself to Sam.

"Yeah, we can quit the playback there, J," Sam said. "It got kinda ugly after that."

Tony sniggered, but Steve spoke up before his team lost focus. "Okay. Sam, since you've already had contact, you've got point. Feel him out, see if he'd come in on this one with us. Take Nat with you — she'll be able to tell if the guy's trustworthy or scare him to death if he isn't."

Nat tipped her head at him.

"The rest of us," Steve said, "will head to Italy and set up a base to launch from. We'll meet you there as soon as you've got our new friend signed up."

He stood, feeling the weight of the Avengers' eyes upon him.

"This one might get ugly, folks. There's no telling what Rumlow and Strucker have wherever they've holed up. The last time I was in a base in the mountains, I flew out of it in a bomber aimed at New York. So we need to be ready for anything."

He let out a breath.

"We take them into custody, no matter what. Them and their enhanced. We shut down their operations. If we have to apologize to the government of Switzerland later, we will. But we're not letting Hydra get away this time. Understood?"

He received a roomful of nods and serious looks.

"All right. Let's move."

Chapter Text

Scott was so excited. This was the best day ever.

He was trying to play it cool, though. The other two looked grim and professional and super badass, and he didn't want to seem like a kid at Disneyland for the first time, even if he felt like one.

He was helping the Avengers. On a real mission!

Also, on a related note, Hank and Hope were both going to be really mad when they found out he'd taken his suit and left when Falcon showed up at his door. They still had a whole thing about Tony Stark, and the Avengers by extension, but Scott figured he didn't have to share in their weird feud if the fate of the literal world was on the line. And it kind of sounded like it was, so…

Falcon and Black Widow had been pretty honest about the situation as far as he could tell. Then again, Widow was a known spy, so maybe she could lie about anything and he'd never catch it. But Falcon seemed like a straightforward kind of guy, so it was probably okay. They needed his help because they were infiltrating a possible Hydra base which might or might not be in Switzerland, and they needed to handle Hydra without getting caught up in international treaties and stuff.

Scott could understand that. Sometimes the only way to be a good guy was to break a few rules, after all.

So now he was sitting on a mini Quinjet heading for Europe and most of the rest of the Avengers team with four carrying boxes of ants — just in case he needed backup, of course — and his suit with a whole belt-full of Pym particles. He did leave a note. He hoped Hank and Hope didn't freak out thinking they'd been robbed again, or that he'd gone rogue.

Maybe he should have written something besides, "Off to save the world with some friends. Don't worry — they're good guys."

Oh well. No help for it now.

"Where are we meeting the others?" Falcon asked.

Black Widow was sitting in the cockpit of the Quinjet, though it was more just...the front of the little space. Scott had seen pictures of the big Quinjet the team used that had rooms and a whole kitchen and everything, but this one was living-room sized without any of those neat features. It was still the coolest plane he'd ever been in, but he hoped he got to see the other one sometime.

"Tony's info has us coming into the far north of Lombardy," she said. "They already ditched the 'jet at a private airfield and took over a hotel close to the border. We'll set down wherever I can find a good parking spot that's out of the way."

Scott watched Falcon nod and turn back to his tablet. He wished he could make conversation with them, but they seemed pretty absorbed in what they were doing. Instead, he put in his earpiece and pulled out one of his boxes of ants. Might as well check in on them while he could.

Scott could never have imagined that he would be so fond of the tiny little things he'd spent a lifetime chasing out of kitchens and picnics, but now they were practically his buddies. He didn't name them all, mostly because he got tired of being teased for the ones he did name. And he still missed Ant-Thony who had been his first real ant friend.

Still, Ant-on was a good ant buddy to ride, a little faster than Ant-Thony had been even if he had taken a while to get used to the saddle. Ch-Ant-el was the current drone who led the bullet ant brigade, and she was as tough as any of them. And Br-Ant was the lead ant of the crazy ants with their little electric packs. None of the ants were too cuddly, at least not when he was the proper size, but he was pretty sure they all liked to hear from him sometimes.

Hope said that was just his imagination. Scott liked to think it was because they were a team, and even if the ants didn't really understand communication, they understood being part of a greater whole. And he was at the center of that whole.

Hank had called him "a hole" for two days after he explained that, ornery old guy that he was.

Scott lost track of time as he did what Hope called 'communing' with the ants. Rather than giving them specific instructions, he just basically chattered at them — which typically resulted in them moving around in interesting ways as they picked up his brainwaves. They could make really intricate patterns, especially when he was thinking about food or exploring, and he thought they kind of looked like they were dancing. That had to be more fun than just sitting around.

So he was somewhat surprised when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Do I even want to know why you have a crate full of bugs?" Falcon asked.

"They're ants," Scott said at once. He gave the ants the command to settle back into the boxes to wait and pulled off the earpiece. "It's not, like, stimulating conversation, but they understand me enough to do what I need them to."

"I'll be honest, I didn't actually see that coming." Falcon chuckled. "We're here, if you're ready to get to work."

"Yeah!" Scott packed up his stuff and stood, only just now realizing that the Quinjet had landed. Black Widow was staring at him with an eyebrow raised.

"What?" he asked. "You never saw a guy with an army of ants before?"

"Just...not how I thought this was going to go," she said. "Come on. They're waiting."

Scott followed them out of the 'jet and across an empty field to the back of a small, quaint-looking building. When they reached the door, it opened from inside and Hawkeye appeared.

"This is the guy who broke your pack?" he asked, eyeing Scott.

"See how well you do with somebody who shrinks to ant size," Falcon said. "Bet even you couldn't hit him at ten yards."

"I'd rather not find out," Scott put in. He held out a hand. "Scott Lang. It's a huge honor to meet you."

"Save it for the divas," Hawkeye said. He shot a glance at Black Widow. "It's not looking favorable."

"Figures," she said.

"Sure you're okay with breaking international law?" Falcon asked Scott as they entered and followed Hawkeye through the hallways of a bed and breakfast.

Scott shrugged. "The whole point is not to get caught, right? That was my problem last time."

"Oh, you are going to fit in just fine," Hawkeye said.

Through a heavy wooden door Scott found himself in a fancy lounge with lots of couches with curled legs, carved tables, and not a recliner in sight. Most of the furniture had been pushed away to leave a clear space in the middle of the room which was now filled with a holographic, three-dimensional map of the area rotating slowly. Tony Stark was frowning at it, Captain America had his arms crossed, and Bruce Banner was perched on a fainting couch shaking his head. They all looked up at the same time.

"So, you must be Ant-Man," Captain America said. "Thanks for coming out."

Captain America was heading for Scott with a hand out.

"Yeah. Um, Scott Lang. Ant-Man. Yeah."

Scott had prepared for this. He had a whole speech ready.

He forgot it entirely when he felt his hand grabbed by one infinitely stronger.

"Oh my god. It's an honor." He gulped. Then noticed he hadn't let go yet. "I'm shaking your hand too long." Scott managed to let go. "Wow! This is awesome! You're really Captain America."

Somebody snorted.

Scott decided he should at least try to say what he'd been planning on before he ended up looking like any more of an idiot. "Look, I wanna say, I know you know a lot of super people, so...thinks for thanking of me."

"Oh my god." Tony Stark appeared beside Cap, grinning. "How old are you? You talk like a fourteen year old, and I should know."

Scott coughed. "It's amazing to meet you, too, Iron Stark. I mean Mister Tony Man."

Tony Stark cackled and he could hear Falcon groaning behind him.

Of all people, Bruce Banner came to his rescue. "How about we start the briefing and let Scott get settled?"

"Good idea," Captain America said. "Grab a seat and let's go over what we know."

Scott decided not to find out if anybody was looking at him and focused on picking a chair and paying attention. Maybe they'd forget about his fanboying if he proved to be awesome when it counted.

"Basically," Tony Stark said, gesturing and setting the holographic map to a closer resolution, "we're screwed. They're over the border for sure, probably holed up underground. I seem to remember that mountain bases were kind of a Hydra thing."

"You're not wrong," Cap said, shaking his head. "And the last one didn't end so well for me."

"What are you thinking?" Falcon asked. "Should we just bail and tell SHIELD that they're on their own?"

"No." Cap's jaw went tight. "Strucker and Rumlow are right here, and maybe even their enhanced. We need to take this shot before they disappear again."

Scott had a question. And he felt stupid, but he raised his hand anyway. "Uh, so…"

"It's not school. You don't have to do that," Bruce Banner said, but he was smiling faintly.

"Right." Scott dropped his arm. "What's an enhanced?"

"There are three kinds of people," Hawkeye said. "First are like me and Nat, non-enhanced. Regular people with skills. Good skills," he raised his eyebrows meaningfully, "but not superhuman. Second would be Tony and Sam and you if our intel is right — you have suits that give you abilities beyond normal humans, but take the suit off and Nat and I can kick your ass. Third are enhanced. That's Steve and Bruce. People with innate abilities beyond what humans can do."

"Oh." Scott nodded, trying to play it cool and not show his sudden nerves. "So, we've got two...normal bad guys and enhanced?"

"Assuming they're the ones we've seen before, one with super speed and one with…" Falcon shrugged. "Something to do with mental manipulation and energy stuff."

"Couldn't get a clear shot of either of them on any cameras," Stark said, "but SHIELD says they're here, too. So we gotta assume it could get ugly fast."

"We need to get eyes inside before we move." Cap stood and spun the hologram a bit, narrowing in on where a red arrow showed a possible concealed entrance. "We don't know if they're alone in there or if they have more reinforcements. Or what kind of firepower we're looking at. Then we can figure out how to take the mountain down."

"Um, no." Bruce Banner shook his head. "I know you don't mean that literally, but there's a vacation town on that mountain with a bunch of skiers year round. If the fight triggers an avalanche, we could be looking at a lot of casualties."

"So we keep the fight contained," Black Widow said. "Again, that means we need to be able to get inside with no fuss." She looked right at Scott. "So how about you tell us what you and your little friends have planned?"

"Little friends?" Stark asked.

Scott cleared his throat. "Okay, so here's what I can do."

-==OOO==-

Clint couldn't decide if he was annoyed or grateful. Where the hell had this Tic-Tac been when he and Nat were stuck establishing cover identities for weeks or months in hostile countries so they could get a shot at planting a crappy SHIELD bug on some guy and hoping he was dumb enough to walk somewhere helpful in a secret base?

It was sure paying off now, though. After miniaturizing one of Tony's gadgets that scrambled scanning equipment, Ant Guy should be invisible to any internal security and was already leading a squadron of actual ants into an air shaft. They even had live video and sound from another tiny camera mounted on an ant's back.

Steve's plan was pretty straight-forward. They sent Scott the Ant Whisperer in first, but everybody was gathered in the Quinjet — shielded and invisible, of course — right on the base's doorstep. If anything went wrong, they could burst in to help the bug out. In the meantime, he was supposed to map out the facility so, assuming things didn't go bad, Steve could make a real plan.

Clint and Nat had already declined to bet on the chances of that actually happening.

"So, like, who designed this place? Nazis?" Scott asked over comms.

"Um, that is literally what Hydra is, so yes," Sam said.

"Well, it shows. You can just feel the oppression. Repression? Whatever. Both of them. Oozing out of the perfectly straight corridors and utilitarian cement walls."

Clint traded a glance with Nat that he knew she could read; this guy was fun.

Which meant Steve was already frowning. "Lang, I need you to focus. We're getting a pretty good scan, but don't lose your edge."

"Right, Captain sir."

Nat leaned close and whispered in Russian, "He remind you a little bit of Peter?"

Clint snorted and answered in Russian as well. "Yeah, but Peter's weird hero worship is endearing."

"Maybe he'll grow out of it."

"Peter, or Scott?" Clint asked, smirking.

Nat gave him one of her invisible smiles.

"Oh, uh, Captain sir."

Clint immediately turned his full attention back to the two different monitors showing the feeds coming from the ants with Scott. He was looking into a big central room which was absolutely loaded with crates, and Clint would eat his bow if those weren't weapons just waiting to be used.

"JARVIS says he's picking up voices from what he's analyzing off the feed," Tony said. "Tom Thumb, can you get closer?"

"Yeah, sure. I mean, yes sir!"

The visuals were bumpy and jarring, the ultimate shaky-cam video from being mounted on the actual back of a flying ant, but Clint could see enough amidst all the movement that meant they were closing on people.

"Easy, Tiny," he said. "Make sure they don't spot a literal swarm of ants, okay? Hydra's paranoid enough to think that's suspicious."

"Because it is," Nat said.

"Yep. Come on, Ant-on. We worked on this. Sneaky formation."

Clint had no idea what that meant, but the video feed banked sharply to the side and involved a lot of darkness and flat surfaces, so he assumed they were sticking to rafters or corners or whatever could obscure a cloud of ants. The video might even have been upside-down at one point, but with no clear images for reference, even Clint couldn't exactly tell. He hoped Ant Guy had a strong stomach for vertigo.

Suddenly the screen cleared and they were looking down on Strucker and Rumlow sitting at a pair of desks right out of the forties, complete with those awful-looking military camp chairs.

"I don't see that we have any alternative," Strucker was saying. "I can't enhance anybody else using just Maximoff's powers. I need the scepter."

"The scepter the Avengers took?" Rumlow shook his head. "Last I could get out of my remaining contacts in SHIELD, it was at that Compound of theirs in upstate New York. And they don't have clearance."

"Well, get better contacts."

"This might shock you," Rumlow said, scowling, "but it's much harder to find SHIELD agents I can actually turn now that they're looking for us."

Clint shot a look at Nat — the fact that Rumlow had anybody in SHIELD working with him would have to be brought to Fury's attention as soon as this was over. At least it was someone with incredibly outdated intel, but still.

"Just send Wanda. What good are her powers if we can't use them to control a few agents here and there?"

"Her control is limited." Strucker shrugged. "If she could simply and permanently overwrite the mind of another, we would have a thousand more Winter Soldiers now. She makes the conditioning easier, but she can't completely subjugate even a weak mind. She just terrorizes them into submission."

Rumlow leaned back in his chair. "Then we don't have a choice. We can't do this with the resources we have. We're going to need to take the risk."

"What kind of risk?" That question came from a female voice with an Eastern European accent, and Clint knew it had to be Sokovian.

A moment later, two more people entered view. One was a young woman who couldn't be older than her late twenties with long reddish hair. The other was a young man, taller, with untamed gray-white hair.

"That's them," Tony said, pulling up the files SHIELD had gotten in Sokovia on the enhanced at the base there. "Wanda and Pietro Maximoff."

Clint skimmed the intel again, and made a promise to himself not to get anywhere near the girl without putting an arrow through her. Not if she could influence thoughts. He'd had enough mind control to last him a couple of lifetimes already, and the nightmares to go along with it.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Rumlow was quick to say.

Wanda frowned darkly at him. "We are not your little soldiers. If we are equals, we deserve your information."

"Yeah, definitely tell them all your evil plans so we can listen in," Scott muttered to himself.

Clint's breath froze in his chest, sure that the Ant Guy had given away his position. But no one on the screen moved, and after a few tense moments Clint let himself return to mission-ready relaxation.

"Hydra has many bases with every type of weaponry we ever designed," Strucker said. "This one serves for keeping us from the spotlight, but to actually strike back at our enemies, we may require something beyond what is available to us here."

"That was a lot of not answering her question," Pietro Maximoff said.

"It is not that we do not trust you," Rumlow said. "But this information is dangerous. Hydra's way is to maintain secrets even amongst allies so our information cannot be betrayed."

"I thought that is what your little cyanide pills were for," Wanda said. She took a step forward and lifted a hand that glowed red with power. "Do not forget, I can very easily learn what I wish from you, and you will not enjoy it."

Clint's stomach turned over, but he kept himself stoic on the outside.

"Hey, while they're distracted, I'll see if I can get closer to the documents on that other table," Scott said suddenly.

"No, Lang. Stay put," Steve replied at once. "Don't take any risks."

"It's not a risk," Scott said. "They can't see me. The file cabinet is way over there."

"Hold position," and that was the full Captain America voice. "That's an order, Ant-Man."

But Scott was already moving, zipping around the room and taking them out of range from the actually a lot more important conversation going on. Clint tuned out Steve yelling at the guy over comms and quietly prepped his gear.

He'd been in the game long enough to know how this was going to end.

"What is that?" came a shout across the comms. "Something is here!"

Yep, just like that.

"Avengers, move out!" Steve yelled and everyone but Bruce piled out of the Quinjet just as the video feed from Scott's little ant camera went dark.

This is why he and Nat didn't bet on Plan A working without a hitch. After a lifetime of relying on Plans D through M, they knew better.

Here's hoping Ant Guy lives long enough for us to yell at him. Otherwise, I'll kill him myself.

-==OOO==-

Nat didn't need to know where Clint was to trust him to watch her back as she evaded gunfire. Tony and Cap had already cleared the first automated defenses, crunching the gun turrets into the rock walls as they went by. She focused her efforts on security cameras, and on keeping an eye out.

Clint wasn't the only one not in a big hurry to run into that enhanced girl any time soon.

From what attention she was paying to Scott Lang over comms, he had sensibly retreated up into the vents with his ant friends, making them hard to hit by everyone but the girl who was apparently trying to rip the ceiling down around him. Her brother was already zipping around, but he was a problem for Tony and Sam. They had the maneuverability to have a shot of catching him.

Once they got to the heart of the base, Nat knew she and Clint would have to focus on Rumlow and Strucker. Steve was probably going to have his hands full with the enhanced and keeping Scott alive.

"Hey," she said into her comms. "JARVIS? Lock down the Quinjet."

"I'm still in here," Bruce objected.

"Yep. And you're going to stay there." She slid under fire from yet another mounted gun, coming up just as Clint hit it with an explosive arrow. "And, more importantly, Little Miss Mind Wipe isn't going to get to you."

"Yeah, this would be a bad time for Big, Green, and Artificially Ticked Off," Tony said. "J, do it."

"But what if you need me?"

Aw, he is so cute and clueless sometimes. "The lockdown keeps her out, Bruce," Nat said. "If it gets that bad, it's certainly not going to keep the big guy in."

"Oh. Good point."

Cap had taken point, of course, and was in the process of kicking down another door. There was a blur, the merest notion of silver, and he was on his back halfway down the hall.

"Found the speedster," Sam remarked.

Tony was saying something to JARVIS about predictive analysis and automatic firing, and Nat let him have it. JARVIS had better reflexes than Tony or Sam; maybe it would help. She skidded over to Steve and hauled him up.

"Quit napping, Rogers. We got work to do."

Steve huffed. "I really hate that guy."

"You're not so great yourself," came a voice from behind her.

Nat spun, but by the time she got around, the enhanced was gone. An arrow was sticking out of the ground at her feet.

"I really hate that guy, too," Clint said. Then he rocked forward as if he'd been shoved. "Punk bastard."

"Say that to my face." The Sokovian accent came from the other end of the hall now.

Clint scowled. "I would, if you'd hold still."

"Here, take your shot." The kid stretched his arms in invitation.

And got hit by a repulsor blast from behind.

"Nice shooting, J," Tony said. "What are you all standing around here for? Wee Willie isn't going to take them down on his own."

Scott choked over the comms. "Oh my god, you did not just call me that."

"Come on." Steve set off for the door, Nat and Clint falling in behind him. "Tony and Sam can handle Speedy Gonzales."

"Nice attempt at a cultural reference, man," Sam said. "You pick that up in the fifties?"

"I hate you all." Steve charged ahead, just maintaining a pace Nat and Clint could match. "Lang, what's the situation? We're almost there."

"Um, well, there's a lot of stuff falling down and the girl in red is aaaaaaghh no, I'm okay. Um. Yeah, some help would be good. Also, the Hydra guys ran off somewhere."

"Hawkeye, get after our stragglers. Lang, go with him," Cap said. "Widow, you're with me."

Nat rolled her eyes. It wasn't as if she was going to leave him on his own with the enhanced girl.

The room they'd seen through the ant-carried cameras was in complete disarray when they reached it. Ants swarmed around the fallen ceiling, though Nat could tell from comms that Scott was already catching up with Clint and taking off after Strucker and Rumlow. In the center, long hair streaming around her, Wanda Maximoff's body was wreathed in red light.

Nat lifted a gun, but a flick of the woman's wrist sent red energy curling around Nat and flinging her to the side. Nat curled up, covering her head with her arms as she smashed into heavy metal crates that fell around her. She managed to slide to the wall which braced the last crate above her, preventing her from being crushed.

Distantly, she could hear Steve trying to negotiate.

"Look, you're not walking out of here. But if you come quietly, we can guarantee your safety and humane treatment. For you and your brother."

"What? Do you expect my knees to go weak at the sight of America's great hero?" Wanda sneered in return. "We do not all worship the flag you use to disguise your evil."

Nat shook her head, her ears still ringing over Cap's words.

"If you want to talk about evil, Hydra is pretty much it. How many people have they killed and tortured? You're really siding with that?"

"Hydra saved us." She chuckled. "All who rule abuse their power. Why should I not choose the side that gave me power in return and offer a path towards the one thing I truly desire?"

Nat pushed herself up, feeling the familiar pain of bruised and maybe cracked ribs. She had to get out there. Steve was not armed for this kind of fight. She started to crawl towards the nearest gap.

"Yeah, and where is Hydra now?" Cap was asking. "Rumlow and Strucker abandoned you. They're not here helping you. They're not a team. They don't care about you."

"And I do not care about them. A team is nothing. It makes you weak, because you can be destroyed by the very ones you claim to trust."

"Steve," Nat whispered into her comms. "Steve, knock her out now."

"You're wrong," Cap said.

Nat swore in Russian. "Rogers, she's baiting you."

He ignored her. "The team makes you stronger. Aren't you stronger with your brother?"

Nat winced. That was a tactical error on a whole other level.

Suddenly she heard Steve gasp.

"You are pathetic." The voice was near enough to be heard over comms, and Nat doubled her efforts to get free. "And your weakness will infect everything you love."

"Rogers!" That was Tony. "Cap, what's going on?"

"We need backup in here now," Nat grunted as she shoved at a crate. "She's got him."

"I thought the greatest joy would be to strike Stark where he lives, to take what he loves and shatter it before his eyes. But now I see that first I must clear the board of your precious team. His mind and yours, they see your Avengers so differently. It will be delicious to watch him discover the scorpion in his midst."

Steve's breathing was audible over the comms, ragged and shaky.

Nat braced her spine against the wall and pushed with her legs at the last crate between herself and freedom. It moved, slowly, scraping as it went. The instant she had enough space, she clambered around and over until she was crouched on the pile.

Cap's shield was on the ground, and he was on his knees. Red light surrounded him in a dark nimbus, the enhanced girl smiling almost gently at him.

Nat drew a gun and took her shot.

Wanda moved at the last moment, Nat's bullet skimming along her upper arm. But it was enough for her to reel back, dropping her power as she clutched at the burst of blood.

Steve hit the floor, unconscious.

Nat took aim again, but there was a blur and then both enhanced were across the room, the girl cradled in her brother's arms.

"Well, that was rude," Pietro Maximoff said.

"Incoming!" Sam yelled far too late into the comms. "He got past us."

"He's here," Nat said.

"Hang tight." That was Clint. "We're on our way to you."

"What about Rumlow and Strucker?" Tony asked.

"We lost them," Scott Lang said. "Um, also…"

A red light started to flash.

"Uh, guys, JARVIS is using words like self-destruct and countdown here. We probably need to split." Over his words, his repulsors were audible in the hall.

Nat kept her focus on the pair of enhanced. She eased her way down the stack of metal crates and edged across the floor towards Steve.

"You want me to turn her inside out?" Pietro was asking his sister.

"No." Wanda's eyes were cold. "They will pay for all they have done in time."

Pietro nodded, and then they were both gone.

Nat broke into a run, reaching Steve just as he began to stir. "Cap, come on." She held her ribs with one arm as she tried to flip him over with the other.

Steve coughed and got to his knees. "You okay?" he asked, eyeing her.

"Been better."

"Going to be a lot worse if we don't get out of her in t-minus two minutes," Tony said over comms. "We're trying to shut it down, but it's not looking good."

"Tony," Bruce said, "if they blow that place, what happens to the resort down the mountain and all the people in it?"

"Oh my god," Sam said.

"Tony, Sam Scott," Steve said, pushing to his feet. "Get down there. Evacuate as many people as you can. Don't worry about us."

"I'm calling in the Iron Legion, too," Tony said, "but they won't make it until it's time to dig out survivors."

Nat flinched, knowing there wouldn't be many.

Clint burst in a side door, sprinting to the pair of them. "Come on. We need to get clear."

Cap was shaky on his feet, and Nat wasn't much better, but they started to run back down the hallways.

"Tony," Bruce shouted, "get JARVIS to let me out. Then he can fly the Quinjet and try to plug up the opening in the hill. Maybe the 'jet can help contain the explosion, keep it from triggering an avalanche."

"It's worth a shot. J, do it!"

Nat ignored what she could hear over comms of Scott raising the alarm while Tony and Sam started the evacuation. She focused on breathing, on putting one foot in front of the other, and on the internal ticking clock they were racing against.

The lights of the Quinjet flooded the tunnel ahead of them.

Nat's feet had just hit the raw earth of the mountain beyond the inner concrete structure when the concussive blast from behind tore the world apart.

Chapter Text

"Hey, sorry I'm late!" The costumed hero dropped to the dirty floor inside the abandoned warehouse. "There was a — "

Quicker than the eye could track, a flash of green struck where the boy had been.

Loki emerged from a shadow, frowning.

"Hey!"

He ignored the indignant shout of the child who now hung with his feet attached to a girder high above, his body dangling upside down as easily as if he walked on the earth; instead, Loki summoned two daggers to his hands and flung them, one after the other.

"Okay, okay!" Peter called, dodging easily. "I'm really sorry I'm late!"

Loki scoffed, splitting himself into several illusions and allowing them to chase the boy from his perch.

He had been training the child for a few Midgardian weeks or perhaps months — following the passage of time on Midgard was pointless; it moved too quickly — and even Loki was impressed with Peter's growth. He had a speed no Asgardian even in legend had possessed, and he combined it with an equal gift of agility. Anything Peter saw coming, he could dodge. His strength was great as well, though he rarely troubled himself to use it.

Loki was also, privately, noticing that Peter reacted at times to things that had not quite happened yet, though he seemed unaware of it. But, then, he was still very young and new to these powers, and they had not ceased to grow, either. There was simply no possible way to foresee what more the child might attain in time.

Assuming he lived long enough.

Loki's greatest trial in training Peter Starkson was that the child simply would not see reason about the need to know how to fight. Oh, he was willing to learn anything Loki could teach him about defense, about outwitting one's opponents, about using that devilishly clever webbing to restrain as well as attack. But Peter refused, at every opportunity, to learn more than the very basics about how to hurt another.

Loki had argued, had cajoled, had even yelled until the boy's brown eyes welled up in regretful tears, but nothing could move that stubborn mortal child from his belief that to be a "real hero," he must never harm those he battled. It was infuriating.

And yet Peter, in his laughable guise as Spider-Man, still continued to serve the people of this chaotic city, bleeding in their steads. The first time the boy had appeared for his lessons with Loki with blood raining down, the ruler of Asgard had nearly lost what little respect for mortal life he possessed. That was a day Loki had intended only to instruct as an illusion, a shade visible to Peter through the enchanted pendant.

That rivulet of blood summoned Loki to Midgard more swiftly than the Bifrost could travel.

"It's okay, Loki," Peter had said, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "It doesn't even hurt anymore, and it's already way better than it was."

He had held up his pitiful shirt to show a closing wound that scraped along one whole rib, as if the boy had been nearly impaled and only just evaded a more serious blow.

That night, after the boy had returned to his home for a few scant hours of sleep, Loki had done three things.

First, he enchanted the boy's ridiculous costume in his sleep to make it at least somewhat more resistant to damage. It was not armor, simply woven cloth, and it could not stand up against a determined blow or a proper weapon, but at least it would not yield quite so easily.

(He had considered gifting the boy proper armor, but forestalled for now, not wishing to so openly advertise their connection. And the homespun clothing, though inadequate, did much to make others overlook or more easily dismiss the boy rather than seeing him as a threat. Both Spider-Man's lack of recognition amongst the Avengers and his slightly clownish appearance served as advantages for Peter in ways Loki was not yet ready to relinquish.)

Second, he had tracked the scent of the boy's blood to the would-be murderer. After that, what Loki did to the mortal was probably something Thor would have called 'unnecessary,' but, then, Thor was a fool. And Thor was not the one who was responsible for the child's safety.

Peter would certainly not have approved scaring the miscreant to the point of bodily misfortune, but at least that was one mortal waste of flesh who would never dare harm him again.

The last thing Loki did in response to the Starkson's injury was to adjust how closely he watched over the boy. Previously, he had been content to trust to the ward he placed on Peter's pendant; now, he turned a certain amount of awareness to the child as soon as he donned his little costume. It was a simple matter to split his attention even while engaged in matters of state on Asgard — never again would the boy's blood be drawn with Loki ignorant of it if it could be helped.

Which meant, unbeknownst to Peter, Loki was fully aware of the reason the boy was late to their training.

He had been distracted. By petting dogs out for late-night walks with their owners. Again.

It was the best kind of ludicrous. This child, a handful of years old, had earned the trust of an Infinity Stone, the worthiness of Mjolnir, and powers beyond what any mortal could even fathom — and he sought not glory nor wealth nor triumph, but the simple pleasure of visiting canines and the unending toil of guarding mortals too weak to defend themselves against the wolves in their own streets. It was farcical, and Loki enjoyed it immensely.

No such child could ever have been born on Asgard, steeped in its ancient grandeur and restrictive ethos. Indeed, Asgard would have been significantly improved by a spirit like Peter's. Loki tried not to think about whether or not his fondness for the child had begun influencing him as a ruler.

But neither Odin nor Heimdall had bespoken him if it had, and if that was not approval, it was at least not censure. A diplomatic compromise amongst them with which Loki was becoming quite comfortable.

However, such thoughts were for another moment.

Loki dropped his illusions and launched himself at the spider-child directly, a long whip conjured in one hand which he lashed at the boy's flailing ankle.

Peter might have evaded it, but Loki distracted him by throwing another dagger. He dodged the dagger, and fell into Loki's grip.

"Oh crap." Peter's head came up in time for Loki to smirk at him.

Then he threw the child with all his strength at the wall.

Peter gave a high-pitched shriek and crashed through not one, but two walls of wood and plaster in the derelict building that was one of their training retreats. Before he could even crawl out of the debris, Loki was upon him, striking at his prone form.

"Geez, Loki!" Peter yelled as he flicked a web to the side and used it to pull himself out of danger. "Keep that up and I might get a splinter!"

"You will have more than that by the time we are finished, young one." Loki pivoted in place, calling upon his shapeshifting magic and transforming himself into an eagle the size of a Midgarian cow. With talons that could part flesh from bone, he flew at the boy.

Peter Starkson retreated into the rafters of the building, wisely using its latticed structure to make it difficult for Loki to pick up speed or move freely. He also spun his webs in an attempt to catch Loki and pin him like prey. Loki spit acid at him without leaving his bird form.

"Oh, man! That stuff stinks!" Peter paused upon a crossbeam and covered his masked face with his hands. "Ew!"

Loki ducked out of the rafters only to come up beneath the child, snapping the beam with his powerful wings.

The boy fell only for an instant before he twisted his body and caught himself on his webbing, arcing gracefully to the ground. He unleashed a torrent of webs, intent upon immobilizing Loki.

Loki returned to his Aesir form and created a shield of yellow and green fire that burned the webs before they reached him. He stalked forward, sending tongues of flame around either side until the boy was surrounded.

"Look," the child said, stepping back slightly and searching for options, "I promise to try really hard not to be late for the next...week? Is a week good? Because I feel like if I try to promise to never be late that I'll just end up lying and that would be worse, right?"

"It would indeed," Loki told him without relenting even a bit.

Peter had backed up to the edge of the flames, and Loki was close enough to touch him, but the child's face under his mask suddenly bent as if he had grinned.

It was only Loki's own reflexes which saved him from a jet of webbing to the face.

That instant of distraction was all the child required; he leaped over the flames, somersaulting in the air and landing with the grace of a dancer clear of the danger.

"Okay. So I promise to try not to be late for a week," he said. "And I'm sorry for wasting your time, Loki."

Loki sighed and waved his hand. The flames vanished.

"You are no waste of time if you continue to improve," Loki said. He allowed his body to relax, trusting the child to understand the unspoken truce.

Which he did; the boy pulled off his mask and grinned, his hair damp with sweat and still refusing to conform to any kind of order.

"Does that mean I won?" he asked, full of impish humor.

"Hardly," Loki told him. But he also permitted the boy to see the slight smile he did not bother to guard.

"I feel like you owe me one," the Starkson said, leaning on his perceived advantage with all the guile he possessed, little that it was. "I mean, you did throw me through the wall. I could have gotten hurt!"

His false innocence was amusing, but ineffective. "Of the two of us, I know better what you can stand without harm. Such thin wood could no more endanger you than landing upon a pillow."

Peter grinned. "Didn't feel like landing on a pillow, though."

"Well, then I am relieved to know your nerves still work as intended." Loki shook his head. "Now, I judge you properly chastised for your tardiness. Shall we begin again?"

The boy hesitated. "Actually, I was kind of thinking...I mean…"

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"So, there's this all-night diner not too far from here that is supposed to have, like, the best chocolate chip waffles in the city, and I kind of forgot to eat dinner. And I don't know how much Earth food you've eaten, but if you haven't had chocolate chip waffles, like, that's some kind of crime against food."

Loki regarded him. "You...are inviting me to dine with you?"

"I mean, if you don't mind." Peter shuffled awkwardly on his feet as he never would in battle, or, indeed, even wearing his mask. The child in the mask always tried his best to live up to the Spider-Man name he had given himself.

"Well." Loki pretended to consider it. "I cannot allow you to go hungry in my presence. Such would be dishonorable. And if there is some traditional Midgardian feast which I have not yet sampled, that is a point of ignorance I would like to remedy."

"Yes!" Peter flung both arms up in triumph. "I dropped my backpack somewhere when I came in. I can change and we'll grab food first. Then you can shoot fire at me some more."

Loki chuckled as the child ran off to remove his costume. "What if it is not fire?" he called after him. "I should not wish you to know what to expect."

"The best part is that, with you, I never do!"

The boy's enthusiasm did not abate even after Loki had donned a disguise of his own and they traveled the short distance to the aforementioned diner. It was a dingy place, which suited Loki well enough — no one would look too closely at him here, nor at his young companion. He did not know his precise legal status upon Midgard, but he assumed it remained highly unfavorable. Certainly inconvenient.

The chocolate chip waffles that were Peter's aim were, indeed, a delicacy as sweet as any he had eaten on Asgard. Sweets were ill-considered by the men of Asgard, thought a weak food for children and not part of a proper warrior's repast. Loki thought that was madness. Why eat stale and tasteless food, to say nothing of actively repulsive dishes, to prove oneself sufficiently hardened — when one could eat food that would fill one with joy?

"I didn't know you liked chocolate," Peter said at one point, a smear of chocolate peeking out of the corner of his mouth and his napkin a ruined thing to one side. "I'll have to get you to try churros next. They're sweet but crunchy and cinnamony, too."

"I look forward to the experience," Loki said, utterly sincerely.

Other than the reprobate who had dared shed Peter's blood (who could not be counted as a thing upon the realm which had any value whatsoever), Loki was finding Midgard to have great worth indeed. At least in its company and its food.

"Maybe when school lets out we can hang out during the day, too," Peter said around another chocolate-soaked bite. "There's this great sandwich place and…"

His eyes widened, focused over Loki's head.

Loki turned, swiftly, already palming a dagger and preparing a spell.

In the corner of the diner was a device like that upon which they had watched the movie the last time Loki visited the Avengers. Now, it showed 'breaking news' with a ribbon of information scrolling across the bottom. But the majority of the screen was filled up with scenes of destruction and devastation.

"Hey, turn that up," one of the servers said. The screen had drawn the attention of everyone in the diner, few though they were at such an hour of night.

"...dozens of fatalities, including several individuals from countries outside Europe," the voice was saying. "The Avengers are already looking for additional survivors and providing medical treatment, but the current speculation is that they are the cause of the landslide which fell upon this resort town."

"Oh god," Peter whispered.

Loki looked at him. He had gone pale, his eyes wide.

"I am certain Stark is unharmed," he said quickly.

"No, I mean, yeah, but…" Peter's face collapsed into grief and anxiety as he tore his gaze from the screen. "They're always so careful about people getting hurt when they go out. Mister Stark...he still has nightmares about people he thinks he killed even though he didn't."

Loki wondered if some of those nightmares — some of those people killed — were actually his fault. He thought it likely. He did not expect to feel remorse about it.

He had not expected to feel many things. Midgard often proved him quite wrong.

The voice was speaking again. "The destruction is localized, but it is all within Swiss territory. Once the scale of the tragedy has been understood, the political and legal ramifications may be quite severe. Switzerland has a very public position regarding unauthorized forces committing acts of violence within their borders. After this break, we'll be back to discuss international law and the Avengers and whether or not they are liable for any actions that led to the current crisis."

Loki's eyes narrowed. Not only at the situation he read into the words, but at the growing fear and panic in Peter's face.

"Come, child." He rose and tugged at Peter's elbow.

Numbly, the boy reached into a pocket and pulled out a shaky hand. He dropped some paper currency on the table, barely counting it. Loki glanced at it, then carefully conjured a few more similar bills — the food had been delightful before the sour tidings and he wished to reward these Midgardians thoroughly — and tightened his grip on Starkson.

"Let us return you home," Loki said, steering him from the diner. Once they were outside and far from anyone's hearing, he added, "You are not of a mind for Spider-Man tonight. I forbid it."

"Yeah, okay," Peter said and that, more than anything else, told Loki how very troubled the child truly was. "Do you...do you think they'll be okay?"

Loki knew the child was not asking about their physical safety.

And he could understand that fear. Peter's powers, while still secret, would someday make him a target. Evil would seek him out to make him a weapon. The child's best protection was the heroes of this place who adored him as their own, and if their standing fell, so too would his safety. But, beyond thinking even so far ahead, Loki well knew the fear of a child whose father went off to battle, unsure if or when they would return, and having taken what wounds.

And, now more than ever, Loki understood that not all wounds wept blood; sometimes those that cut by laws and words and the games of intrigue could cut infinitely deeper.

"I know little of the laws on Midgard," he said, intending to learn more, and quickly, "but I know that Stark is clever, powerful, and devious. The Captain commands great respect. And my own brother is much beloved — for some reason."

That won him a tiny huff of laughter from the boy.

"So you think they'll be okay?"

"I think," Loki said, leading the boy home, "there is little in this realm that they cannot defeat, either in battle or in rhetoric. Have faith. They will not fail you."

I shall not permit it.

-==OOO==-

Tony was exhausted.

He was pretty sure at this point that he was running on coffee, adrenaline, and that huge box of cookies Rhodey had waiting for him at the Compound when Tony arrived. They were specialty cookies, the kind Tony ate by the dozen at MIT when he was stressed about his projects or when he was angry with his professors. Rhodey hadn't pulled those out in a long while.

That was part of what kept dousing cold into his veins; this was bad enough for Rhodey to fall back on cookies. He hadn't even done that when Peter was stuck with the Mind Stone.

Of course, Rhodey also hadn't left Peter's side then, but still.

They'd cleaned up the mess they'd made as best they could, spending three full days digging out the resort Hydra's explosion had buried under a landslide of rock and snow. Tony had called in the Iron Legion, utilizing some of the newer programming for search and rescue as well as evacuation and medical evaluation, but there were still more people dead than alive by the time they'd cleared everything. Kids on vacation, families there for sightseeing or skiing or fishing or hiking or whatever else. The rocks had killed them all indiscriminately.

In the mere seconds of warning they'd had, Tony and Sam had grabbed every kid they could, and Tony himself had carried twenty people on the last run with the landslide behind them like thunder, but saving them meant nothing when they had condemned even one person to death.

And they had condemned a lot more than one.

The political situation was ugly. They had been in a country where they didn't have permission, and their actions had led to civilian casualties from a dozen different countries. Even Wakanda had a few students dead in the aftermath, and they were angry. And had every right to be.

Steve kept trying to say that it was Hydra's fault, not theirs, since Hydra were the ones who blew up their base.

Tony felt otherwise.

He pulled up an interface to peek at what was supposed to be his calendar. He'd had this week flagged for a presentation at MIT on the BARF technology. He'd had it all planned out, that he would show off the holographic wonder of being able to pull memories buried deep in the subconscious so a person could see people they'd lost again, or could say whatever they'd wished they'd said to someone long gone. It was going to be revolutionary for entertainment as well as psychotherapy.

Now it just made him sick to think about.

"Sure," he muttered to himself, "I can go talk to my parents, tell mom I love her, tell dad...something. But we just stole a whole bunch of people from their loved ones by dropping a mountain on them. So the virtual thing doesn't really cut it this time."

"Tony."

Tony jumped at the unexpected voice. He turned around, scowling.

"Look, Vision, I know the whole concept of walls is kinda foreign to you, but you gotta start respecting the boundaries, buddy."

Vision paused, just inside the lab where he had, once again, phased through a solid surface. "But your door was open."

"Not the point. Never mind. Need something?"

"Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross has just requested access to the Compound," he said.

Tony frowned. "JARVIS? Any particular reason you didn't tell me?"

"I'm sorry, sir. The Secretary ordered me not to alert you to his arrival and apparently there is still some code in my programming which recognizes the authority of the government in requests which do not constitute a direct threat against your person."

"Yeah, that'd be an old holdover from when we did contracting for them. Okay. Flag those protocols for me. I'll rewrite them as soon as I get rid of Thunderbutt." The insult was childish, but it helped anyway. He looked up at Vision. "Thanks for the heads up. Go tell Cap so he doesn't get a surprise. J, you tell everybody else."

Tony watched Vision go, reminding himself he'd have to work on Vision's sense of autonomy. He still took orders just a little too readily in Tony's opinion.

Then he stretched. "Let's go meet our unwelcome guest."

By the time Tony had reached the foyer, most of the others were gathering. Scott Lang was back in California trying to lie low, and Clint had gone home to his family, but the others were around. Tony spotted Bruce and headed straight for him.

"You okay?" he asked in a low voice.

Bruce swallowed. "Yeah, sure. Just...didn't think I'd be dealing with my own personal boogieman today."

"He won't get within three feet of you, Brucie. I promise." He held out his arm where he had one of his repulsor bracelets on already.

Steve approached, too, and nodded. "You can sit this one out if you want," he offered.

"No." Bruce lifted his chin. "We do this as a team. Right?"

Tony grinned. "That's the spirit."

But he did shoot a look to Cap that was full of warning. Steve nodded.

"Sir," JARVIS said from Tony's watch. "Miss Potts wishes to know if she should join you. She has faith in your ability to stall until she can arrive from the city."

"Thanks, but no. Let's keep Pep and Ross apart. I don't want her breathing the same air as him."

"Understood."

When the elevator opened and Ross walked out of it, he was met with a line of Avengers all looking vaguely to openly unwelcoming. Tony pinned his best fake-and-insulting grin on his face, leaving the role of righteous anger to Steve and the threats of violence to Nat.

"Well, look who decided to drop in," he said, sauntering forward. Even his grease-stained shirt was armor, albeit a different kind than the titanium-gold alloy or his Armani suits. "Bit late for a housewarming gift, Ross."

"Tony Stark." Ross smiled, and it was cold — they had cordially hated one another for years now and it was a constant game between them. "You seem surprised to see me."

"Well, I mean, I feel like a man in your position probably has other things to do than visit our little town for a meet-and-greet." He shrugged, affable and sharp-edged. "You've met Thor, right, Ross?"

"I haven't had the pleasure." Ross turned on the charm as he held out a hand to the Asgardian. "Thaddeus Ross, Secretary of State."

"Hmm." Thor was dense about a lot of things, but he was a loyal friend first — and he had also heard the stories of who exactly sent Bruce Banner into hiding. He accepted Ross's handshake, but gave it an extra squeeze. "I have heard of you, Ross of State. You name yourself after my own thunder, do you not?"

"Uh, well, nicknames from childhood do tend to stick," Ross said.

"Then I hope you will treat myself and my companions with the highest of honor, or I should think you mocking myself and my powers and that...would not be wise."

Rhodey, to one side, snorted and turned it into a cough just in time.

"Let's sit down, Secretary," Steve said, a neutral expression on his face that was polite, if cold. "I'm sure you have a good reason for today's visit."

Steve led the way into the Compound's big conference room, and deliberately took the seat at the head of the table. Tony grabbed a chair and shoved it next to Steve with a wink. The rest of the Avengers settled around them, leaving Ross by himself at the far end.

Ross didn't look intimidated or surprised. If anything, his eyes went flintier.

"The tragedy in Switzerland is proving to be rather an embarrassment to the United States," Ross said. "It has also highlighted the illegal nature of the Avengers initiative, prompting calls for your little group to be examined more closely."

"SHIELD has jurisdiction over the Avengers," Vision said, not reading the room and that actually worked for him — made him seem neutral, which he only kind of was.

"SHIELD has its own problems," Ross said. "Besides being infiltrated by Nazis bent on world domination, SHIELD's various international treaties are all suspect because most of them were made in secrecy at best, and in bad faith at worst." He smirked. "And, besides, even SHIELD didn't have permission to send you to Switzerland."

Tony didn't have any argument for that.

"Regardless," Steve said, "this seems like a problem for the Avengers. What does the US government have to do with our international problems?"

"Oh, more than you think." Ross looked pleased and that made Tony uncomfortable. "I don't know if you've heard, but Switzerland has asked the UN for an emergency meeting."

Tony had — they asked before the Avengers had even left the country. It was scheduled in just a few days.

"The United States is going to propose that the Avengers stop functioning as an independent martial force under the control of a shady spy agency and a global corporation. We're going to demand that the Avengers report to a higher authority."

Tony scowled at him. "Yeah, that's not what the UN does," he said. "Unless you failed all your poli-sci classes, which, maybe you did, I dunno, you'd know that the UN can't actually pass laws that impact other countries. The best they can do is pass resolutions and then ask other countries to ratify them."

"There is also the problem of enhanced people," Ross said, ignoring Tony. "Every day, we're hearing about more people with superhuman abilities who can just use them as they wish. Like that vigilante in New York. It's a worldwide problem and it needs a worldwide solution."

"Careful, Secretary," Rhodey said lightly. "Sounds like you're starting to talk about treating some people differently just because they aren't quite like you."

"Why are you here, Ross?" Tony asked bluntly. "You're giving us a preview, and that's not something I'd expect you to do out of the goodness of your heart."

Ross smiled. "I know you have your own connections, Stark, but this time, your business buddies aren't going to be able to buy off the politicians. You people screwed up. The world is out for blood. And they're going to make your lives miserable. Unless."

He paused for drama and it just irritated Tony more.

"Unless what?" Nat asked, low and even.

"If we could assure the UN that the Avengers had agreed to sign over their organization into the US military structure the way you should have as soon as SHIELD lost credibility, then you could go on with your little missions tracking weapons dealers and the dregs of Hydra with very little interruption to your day."

Sam coughed and it sounded suspiciously like something that started with 'bull.'

"That's really your offer?" Tony asked. "Enlist and become your war dogs or you'll throw us on the mercies of the UN? Sorry." He leaned back in his chair. "I'll take the UN. They don't have the teeth you think they do, Ross."

"That's where you're wrong." Ross shook his head. "Right now, the Avengers are the poster children for the growing problem of enhanced humans. As long as people see you as a threat, consider how they'll see every little deviant and freak emerging from the woodwork. And the harder you fight me on this, the harder we'll have to come for you, and them, in return. Is that really what you want?"

Tony went cold.

Steve, however, flushed red. "Get out."

Ross smiled again. "I think you should hear me out."

Steve stood, his hands in fists that shook. "You know I made a career out of punching Nazis. Don't think I won't treat you the same way. And if you even think of holding people's human rights hostage to get what you want from us, you're going to have a bigger problem on your hands than me punching you."

Tony rose, too. "You heard the man. Get out, Ross."

Ross stood. "I'm sorry we couldn't talk about this civilly. You're going to regret not joining me when I gave you the chance. See you at the UN."

"I'll walk you out," Nat said, standing too. She shot Tony and Steve a look as she followed him.

When the door shut behind them, Tony collapsed back into his chair.

"So," Sam said, "assuming Nat doesn't kill him before they get to the door, how big of a problem is this? I mean, really?"

"Big," Tony said. "Really big."

"Defining human rights is one of the things the UN is supposed to do," Vision said. "They have made errors before. If they amend the human rights charter to exclude enhanced individuals, then every country in the world would have cause to do the same."

"And it sounds like Ross wants them to do it," Rhodey said. "But Ross never does anything unless he benefits from it personally. Putting ourselves under his cronies isn't smart or safe."

"Can't we just talk to the UN?" Bruce asked. "I mean, I know we screwed up." He rubbed his face. "But there's no way they'll crack down on people who might have extra abilities just to spite us."

"I wouldn't assume that," Sam said. "Seems like history teaches that there's always somebody at the bottom and plenty of people willing to punch them down as far as they can go. And people are pretty freaked out by us right now."

"I believe I do not understand the intricacies of these politics," Thor said. "But, surely, we can approach these people who speak for your world with honor. We caused great harm, but to pass that harm onto those uninvolved is senseless and cowardly. If we are to be punished, so be it."

"Yeah, not 'so be it,'" Tony said. "I've managed not to get charged with war crimes in the Hague so far, and I'd like to keep it that way. But it's not just that."

Everyone was looking at him, and Tony sighed.

"If the UN passes a resolution about the Avengers," Tony said, "yeah, it only takes effect when each country ratifies it internally. So maybe it's not a thing. But if a whole bunch of countries decide they don't want us inside their borders, what do you think happens then? Hydra has a list of vacant properties to go play in. And if space aliens come back and land in one of those countries?"

"We could go anyway," Steve said.

"That's the thinking that got us into this mess in the first place," Sam said. He raised his hands when Steve glared at him. "I'm just saying, man."

"Ross kind of had a point," Rhodey said then. "Not...much of one. But, when the US sends soldiers into other territories, there's always a chain of command. There's someone who can say to go or to stop, someone who is responsible for making sure the soldiers are accountable for what they do on foreign soil. And we aren't. We aren't accountable to anyone."

"Do we need to be?" Thor asked. "Should we not be welcomed wherever there is need for our strength?"

"Not how that works," Tony said. "I got out of the weapons business because I was tired of a system where people got hurt because I didn't have to care. I'm not going back to that."

"That's not what this is, Tony," Steve said gently.

"Yeah, it kind of is."

"Hey." Nat had reentered the room. "JARVIS caught me up. Look. Whatever we think about whether SHEILD or somebody else is holding our leash, the world is about to decide they want us to have one. And if we don't do something, it's going to be Ross or someone worse than him who gets the job. So we need to get ahead of this."

"I don't like the idea of someone being able to tell us where to go or what to do." Steve shook his head. "The best hands for our power are our own. We're the only ones who should decide which fights we fight."

"I've seen this before," Bruce said suddenly. "A group with a lot of power, a lot of firepower, that thought their ideals were right. They went to other countries and fought the fights they believed in, no matter what anybody else thought. They were absolutely sure their way was the right one, and they didn't care who thought differently. We call them al-Qaeda."

"Hey, that's not fair," Sam said.

"It's also not entirely wrong," Rhodey pointed out. "And I think we can all agree that we don't want to be anything like them."

Suddenly Tony's phone pinged at the same time Steve's did. Tony looked down at the message, and his heart fell into his stomach.

"Okay, we're going to have to leave this for now," he said, standing. "Cap, I can…"

"Yeah," Steve said. His face had gone pale.

"What is it?" Nat wanted to know.

Steve looked like he wanted to throw up, so Tony answered for him.

"Peggy Carter just died."

-==OOO==-

Steve would never remember much from the trip to DC on Tony's jet. He wouldn't remember the negotiations that ended up including transferring Peggy's body back to London to be buried in her beloved soil. Pepper was there, and Nat, and Sam, and Rhodey, and Tony, but Steve just floated through the next day or two in a fog. He didn't really come back to himself until he was wearing a suit and sitting in a pew and thinking about the fact that he was about to be a pallbearer.

He glanced up and saw Pepper and Tony, and Tony's own face was wet with tears.

Steve realized that while Peggy Carter had been the love of his life, she was also Tony's godmother. And while they hadn't seen a lot of one another in recent years, that didn't mean they didn't care for one another.

He wondered if Tony was thinking about his parents, gone too soon. Everyone who had been a part of his past now dead and lost forever.

It was a feeling Steve understood better than anyone on Earth.

The priest cleared his throat. "And now, I would like to invite Sharon Carter to come up and say a few words."

The blonde woman who rose was a surprise; that was the SHIELD agent Sharon who had been his next-door neighbor in DC before the Battle of the Triskelion. He'd known her name was Carter. He hadn't made the connection.

Sharon faced the mourners with quiet dignity. "Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of SHIELD...but I just knew her as Aunt Peggy. She had a photograph in her office. Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I never told anyone we were related."

She shot a quick, apologetic glance to Steve.

"I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said, compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move...it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in they eye and say "No, you move.""

Steve shut his eyes, letting the words sink into his heart.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Mister Stark."

Peter hadn't thought he'd surprised the man that much, but Mister Stark spun on his stool with an arm extended as if for a repulsor. He put his hands up in surrender.

"It's just me."

"Underoos." Mister Stark sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "What are you even doing here, kiddo?"

Peter made his way into the room. "Um."

"Because, if I'm not mistaken, today is robotics club day."

Peter didn't actually want to admit that he'd been skipping more robotics club meetings than he'd attended lately. So he shrugged. "I mean, technically yeah?"

Mister Stark's face did that thing where it wasn't quite a smile because he was still reserving judgment, but he was amused anyway. "So, again, why are you here? Technically?"

Peter tried not to let what he was feeling leak into his voice, but he never did have any real control over his face; this is why Spider-Man wore a mask. "Um. I mean, it's fine if you're busy. Of course you're busy, that's just stupid, I'm sorry. But I haven't really seen you since…" He waved vaguely hoping to indicate all the stuff happening. "And...yeah. I just...yeah."

Mister Stark's smile went soft. "Worried about me, squirt?"

"No?" He didn't really mean for it to be a question, but it definitely was one.

"Thanks for that. I'm sorry I haven't been around more. We haven't had a proper day in the lab for…" He trailed off. "JARVIS? When's the last time the kid and I did our thing?"

"The second Wednesday in February, sir."

Mister Stark swore, then scowled. "You didn't hear that."

"I've definitely heard it before," Peter said, grinning. "I bet JARVIS could even tell you how many times you've said one of those words you think I'm not old enough to say around me."

"I could indeed, young Sir," JARVIS said.

"Yeah, no, let's not provide any more evidence that I've been corrupting my kid since he was a tiny infant."

Peter frowned. "I was definitely not an infant when we met, Mister Stark."

"Itty bitty baby Peter," Mister Stark said, gesturing with his hand as if Peter had been only a foot or two tall. "Barely able to toddle about. And now look — he's growing up."

"Maybe you're starting to lose track of reality," Peter returned. "How old do you have to be before you start going senile?"

Mister Stark barked a laugh. "Trust me, if I'm going senile, you'll know."

Peter made his way to his own workbench and perched on his stool, spinning it around. "I promise to visit you in the old people's home."

"Brat. Awful child. Why did I ever let you in here?"

"I dunno. Why did you make a hair dryer that cuts potatoes into wedges?"

"Because I'm a genius."

Peter couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I don't think that answer works on all questions the way you think it does."

"That is where you are wrong, mini me." Peter saw on the next revolution that Mister Stark was pointing at him. "Literally any question in the English language can be answered with 'because I'm a genius.' Just try it."

Peter asked the first non-science question that came to mind. "What's the capital of Haiti?"

"I know that because I'm a genius."

Peter sighed and kept spinning.

"Kid, you gotta knock that off or you're gonna hurl all over my stuff."

He stopped, although he didn't need to. He didn't really get dizzy anymore, or motion sick. But, of course, Mister Stark didn't know that. When he looked up, Mister Stark's expression had folded into a more serious one.

"Now, don't think you can distract me like that. I know we haven't had as much time lately." He leaned forward. "You know it's not your fault, right?"

"Of course I do," Peter was quick to assure him. "I'm not, like, mad at you or anything."

"If you were, you can tell me."

He shook his head. "No, I totally get it. The Avengers are a thing, and I've had a lot more...homework." He quickly changed the subject because he really didn't want to give Mister Stark any good reason to start thinking about Peter's workload and how it did or did not add up to the hours he spent claiming to work on it. "My social studies class talked about the UN this week."

"Oh?"

Mister Stark's expression folded inward.

Peter flinched; maybe bringing this up was a bad idea. Well, he couldn't take it back now. "Yeah. Going through the meeting and what it means and what could happen and stuff."

"And what did you learn?"

"Well." Peter shifted on his perch. "The teacher was saying how the UN can put forth a resolution and ask other countries to sign it about the Avengers, but that they can't make anybody agree with it. And that some countries might ban the Avengers from crossing their borders."

"All true." Mister Stark looked the way he did whenever he worried about saving the whole world, and finally Peter had even the barest sense of how that really felt. He was only carrying Queens on his shoulders after school, and he felt the weight every day.

"This girl in my class, Michelle, she's also on AcaDec with Ned and me, she raised her hand and was talking about how the Avengers are all US citizens except for Thor and that makes it really imperialistic because it means we think we are the saviors of the whole world and that the only way to make it better was for the UN to be able to have a say or at least vote on it, but that even then lots of countries wouldn't necessarily be comfortable. But that if the Avengers were part of the US military or something, it would actually be a lot worse. So she was really glad that the Avengers were talking to the UN because then maybe they could start working independently and partner with other nations more equally. She also said that she didn't like that the Avengers didn't have any oversight, but she trusts them more than either SHIELD or any government, so there's that."

"That is...surprisingly insightful for a freshman," Mister Stark said when Peter trailed off. "And what did you say?"

"Um." Peter rubbed his nose. "I asked if there wasn't a way for the Avengers to be really independent. Like, like not having to report to the President, because that isn't right like Michelle said, but maybe not the UN peacekeeping force either? I know then there would be a lot of bureaucracy about it and, um, you can't wait for the UN to schedule a meeting two weeks later when aliens invade, so… But, anyway, that there had to be a way for other countries to agree to let the Avengers help them without controlling you and stuff. But the teacher said that this was a new problem that had never existed before so there isn't an answer yet."

"Your teacher is right," Mister Stark said. "The shift to asymmetrical warfare had the same problem."

Peter frowned. "Asymmetrical?"

"For the most part, it used to be that wars were fought between countries or people inside countries against one another. It's only more recently that you have international groups like terrorists attacking countries directly."

He swallowed. "You mean like September 11th?"

"Exactly." Mister Stark looked at his hands. "The US military structure wasn't prepared to deal with a situation on that scale where we couldn't declare war on a whole country. And the terrorists could do a lot of harm because they didn't have to worry about their economy, or their civilians, or their infrastructure, but we did. Eventually we started to figure it out. Now…" He shook his head. "The Avengers are the other side of that coin."

"But you're helping people," Peter protested.

"We are, but we also hurt people." Mister Stark's eyes were dark with grief. "We aren't terrorists, but there isn't a good way for the world to deal with us, either. Not without being unfair to somebody. And if it comes down to hundreds of nations wanting one thing and the group of us wanting something else, I don't think we have the right to say no to them all. Then we'd be as bad as the terrorists."

"But you just have to make the right rules, right?" Peter asked. "So you can, you know, play inside the rules but the rules don't keep you from saving the world."

"I'm not entirely sure there is a way to draw those lines that way," Mister Stark said. "We'll do our best."

Peter felt the urge to give Mister Stark a hug, but he also had a feeling it wouldn't help. And, also, Mister Stark didn't look like he wanted to be touched right now. So he sat back instead.

"Hey, JARVIS? Can you bring up the page I was making yesterday?"

"Of course, Master Parker."

A hologram burst into life between them, settling into the shape of the photo album Peter had given as a Christmas present what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"It's…" Peter squirmed. "The school band is playing a song with the choir for the year end concert, and the poem in the song is really good. And after the thing in social studies, I thought maybe it would help you a little."

Peter couldn't admit that he'd liked the poem for himself, as well. For what it made him think about being a hero. And, also, it reminded him of Loki, too. If there was any way that Loki and Mister Stark were the same, that Venn diagram overlapped at this poem.

Mister Stark gestured to the hologram and the book opened.

The image Peter had chosen to go with the words was a picture taken from the villa in Italy — one of the ones Peter had sent back to the Avengers. It was sunset over the hills, the sky almost dark, but not quite, and the moon low on the horizon. He could have chosen one with more stars in it, but he also knew Mister Stark didn't really like the stars that much anymore.

The title was off to the side. "Choose Something Like A Star, by Robert Frost." And then the verse floated up to hover in the sky of the image:

"O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud—
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light.
Some mystery becomes the proud.
But to be wholly taciturn
In your reserve is not allowed.
Say something to us we can learn
By heart and when alone repeat.
Say something! And it says, 'I burn.'
But say with what degree of heat.
Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade.
Use language we can comprehend.
Tell us what elements you blend.
It gives us strangely little aid,
But does tell something in the end.
And steadfast as Keats' Eremite,
Not even stooping from its sphere,
It asks a little of us here.
It asks of us a certain height,
So when at times the mob is swayed
To carry praise or blame too far,
We may choose something like a star
To stay our minds on and be staid."

Peter swallowed, awkward, as Mister Stark read it. When it had been long enough — Peter knew Mister Stark read as fast as he did — he stopped suppressing his need to fill up the silence.

"I like how, I mean, it's a poem but it has science in it, which is neat. But the end, that's the best part. To...to pick something worth hanging onto and following it no matter what other people say. To...to follow the star because it's all lofty and high, even if we can't reach it or understand it completely."

Mister Stark's head was down, and through the hologram Peter couldn't quite see his face.

"Someone...said recently that when the world is against you and tries to get you to move, if they're wrong, you have to plant yourself like a tree and tell them to move instead," Mister Stark said softly.

"Well, yeah," Peter said. "But that's...that's more like fighting with people, right? This is more like...if we all pick a star, then we don't have to make somebody move. We just...follow the star together and it will lead us to a place we can agree."

Peter wasn't expecting Mister Stark to rise from his stool, walk through the hologram, and wrap his arms around him. But as soon as he did, Peter returned the hug fiercely.

"Thank you, figlio," Mister Stark whispered.

"For what?"

"Reminding me to look up instead of at my feet. Being one of the stars I can look up to. Being you."

Peter felt his face heat. "Padrino, I'm not sure I'm really a star like that."

"Oh, you are, Pete. You definitely are." And when Mister Stark pulled back, his face had lost some of that sorrow in his eyes.

Peter ducked his head again. He only had one answer to give, even if it was more than a little embarrassing. "Well, that's fair. You're kinda my star, too."

-==OOO==-

T'Challa stood looking over the skyline of the city, quietly considering how different every place in the world looked when compared to Wakanda. Vienna was not as grand by any measure as many other cities across the globe, but it had a certain charm he could appreciate. Even if he still found it and its people somewhat plain. In a world of rainbow colors, why must everything modern be gray and beige?

If Shuri were here, T'Challa was certain she would have something unflattering to say about 'colonizers.' But that was one of many reasons she was not invited to diplomatic excursions.

Behind him, the conference room in the building of glass and steel that was the meeting place for this discussion was beginning to fill with dignitaries and representatives. T'Challa did not sigh, but he felt the urge to do so. The issue before them was complicated enough; to add the voices of hundreds of nations who already disagreed endlessly with one another would only prolong this painful debate.

However, one face in the room drew his attention. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, was well enough known as an Avenger and, to those with the eyes to see, a dangerous spy for the SHIELD organization. While she had done an admirable job keeping herself from the public eye when possible, no one with wisdom or power ever dared underestimate her. Her closed testimony to her own government regarding the Hydra threat and the Battle of the Triskelion was proof of that.

Of all the Avengers T'Challa had expected to attend the meeting, she was a surprise.

Across the room, T'Challa could now see Tony Stark in his eye-catching suit and colored lenses holding court with several representatives. Beside him, looking distinctly uncomfortable, Steve Rogers was holding himself strict and straight as though at attention while Stark's manipulations flowed like water around him. T'Challa smirked — if there were ever two more dissimilar allies working towards a common goal, he had rarely seen them. And even more rarely had he known them to succeed.

He wondered if the public camaraderie of the Avengers was genuine, or if it was a clever retelling of the truth. But then, Wakanada could not be so hypocritical to blame others for concealing the truth of themselves, after all.

T'Challa decided to enter the room fully, if no more eagerly. His feet carried him to where the Black Widow was finishing with some paperwork.

"I suppose neither of us is used to the spotlight," he said by way of greeting.

Miss Romanoff gave a careful, controlled smile. "Oh, well, it's not always so flattering."

T'Challa glanced around, letting a smile of his own through. "You seem to be doing alright so far. Considering your last trip to Capitol Hill...I wouldn't think you would be particularly comfortable in this company."

"Well, I'm not."

He could not tell if she was lying and that in itself was impressive. "That alone makes me glad you're here, Miss Romanoff."

"Why? You don't approve of all this?"

Ah, she had caught him. For that, he gave her his hesitation freely. "To begin the discussion, yes. The politics, not really. Two people in a room can get more done than a hundred."

T'Challa sensed his father's approach, but did not spoil the man's entrance. Baba did so enjoy his own little moments of drama.

"Unless you need to move a piano."

To her credit, Miss Romanoff did not react in any visible way to the person suddenly behind her. She turned smoothly as if not at all startled. And if her skills were true, perhaps she had not been.

"Father," T'Challa acknowledged him.

"Son," Baba replied, that kind smile hovering in his face even as he played the game of politics and diplomacy. "Miss Romanoff."

"King T'Chaka," Miss Romanoff said at once. T'Challa felt pleased to see her draw her shoulders up not in discomfort, but respect. "Please allow me to apologize for what happened in Switzerland."

He was even more pleased that she did not elaborate. She did not excuse the errors made by herself and her team that killed six Wakandans who ought to have been safe on vacation. She did not speak for her team, and she allowed Baba to hear her regret without actually asking him to forgive. It was honorable in a way he would not have expected from a spy.

"Thank you," Baba said, and T'Challa knew he meant it sincerely. "It is a difficult question to be asked upon the world stage, and I appreciate that your team is willing to address it."

"I believe it is our responsibility," she said. T'Challa was fairly sure that was not quite true, but he allowed it to slide. It was never easy for one with power to relinquish it, after all.

The speakers crackled slightly just before a voice said, "If everyone could please be seated. This assembly is now in session."

He looked to his father. "That is the future calling," he said, knowing Baba would understand. Then T'Challa met Miss Romanoff's eyes. "Such a pleasure."

She understood the dismissal it was and accepted it. "Thank you."

T'Challa watched his father wait until she was unlikely to overhear them before he turned and said, "For a man who disapproves of diplomacy, you're getting quite good at it."

T'Challa heard the approval in that, and the trust. Though he was in no hurry to step into his father's place, to have earned his respect as they played these international games was a great honor. T'Challa's heart swelled. "I'm happy, Father."

T'Chaka touched T'Challa's face, his warm hand resting on his skin. T'Challa felt certain that he would never not find himself just a boy looking up at a towering pillar of greatness when his father's eyes fell upon him as such. He had no words more that he could speak in English or Xhosa that would convey all he meant, so he kissed his father's hand instead.

As one of the speakers scheduled for early in the agenda, T'Challa and T'Chaka had seats close to the floor. 'Early' was a relative concept, considering that there was at least an hour of procedural work before the question under debate was codified. Then, the delegation from Switzerland was invited to speak first, as they had requested the UN assembly and were the site of the most recent tragedy. T'Challa expected them to be bitter, angry, and vindictive, and he was delighted to find himself in the wrong. However, they firmly argued for the Avengers to voluntarily reorganize themselves under the UN peacekeeping force so that they could be held to and dispatched under the same international laws.

The next speaker was from the United States, Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross. T'Challa had heard of the man, and nothing that made him wish to trust him. A glance to the Avengers in the room confirmed his suspicions that the representative of their home government was neither a friend nor ally of the Avengers. And while his words were cleverly delivered, seeming to promise much, T'Challa could sense the danger lurking in their shadow. Ross offered a pre-written resolution that would call for the Avengers to become a specialist branch of the United States military, and for any and all 'enhanced' individuals to follow in their footsteps so that, as he put it, "we can gather an elite group of the most talented individuals on the planet for our common defense."

As an 'enhanced' himself, and his father before him, T'Challa would rather feed himself to a crocodile than put himself under Ross's heel.

In a break from his usual decorum in public, T'Chaka leaned to whisper in his son's ear in Xhosa, "That man embodies everything your sister hates about colonizers."

T'Challa grinned and whispered back, "A pity she is not here. She could disrupt him far more creatively than we."

"We will content ourselves with ensuring he fails spectacularly instead."

The next speakers represented Italy and Germany respectively, and both chose not to comment on Secretary Ross's proposal; instead, Italy agreed with the Swiss delegation calling for the Avengers to join the UN and Germany instead suggested that they could join NATO. T'Challa saw merit in both approaches — and wondered which, if asked, the Avengers would have chosen for themselves.

Then it was time for his father to speak.

When T'Chaka rose from their seats, T'Challa did as well, though he did not follow his father to the podium. Instead, he positioned himself so that he had a clear view of the entire gathered assembly. His father would speak for Wakanda and represent their interests; it was his job to serve as his father's eyes and ears for when the true bargaining began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, friends and allies, thank you for affording us the opportunity to address you today in the shadow of our grief and the difficult matter before us. Our legacy is one of a country perhaps too long in the shadows. The men and women killed in Switzerland were part of a goodwill mission, finally taking some time to enjoy themselves after their efforts to support development alongside our neighbors in Nigeria."

The king paused, and T'Challa glanced out the window as a matter of course. He noticed a news van parked in the middle of the street below.

"You might imagine that our people would again retreat after such a disaster. We will not, however, let misfortune drive us back. We will fight to improve the world we wish to join. I am grateful to the Avengers for being willing to entertain the world's criticism. I believe a way forward can be found, and must be found. And I wish to affirm to you that Wakanda will be a part of this way."

Suddenly T'Challa knew what was going to happen just before it did.

"Wakanda is proud to extend its hand in peace."

"Everybody get down!" T'Challa was running, his superior strength and speed sending him flying across the room. But he was too far, still too far, when the explosion ripped through the windows from below, sending steel and glass crashing in every direction.

Distantly, T'Challa could hear shouting, including orders being given by both Steve Rogers and Tony Stark. But his only focus was his father lying still on the floor surrounded by debris.

"Baba!" he yelled, crawling across the floor and heedless of the cuts that tore through his suit to his skin. His ears were ringing and he could not even hear his own voice.

He nearly fell upon his father when he reached him, shaking him slightly before he fumbled at his wrist to feel for a pulse. No matter how faint, his enhanced senses would have felt it if his father's heart beat still.

Nothing.

"No!" T'Challa cupped his father's face, searching for an injury great enough to have brought one who had borne the mantle of the Black Panther to his end. His hands came away wet with blood and he realized that a piece of the steel supports had embedded itself in his father's skull from the force of the explosion.

The Black Panther could survive many, many wounds, but that power did not make one invulnerable. And without any armor at all…

T'Challa pulled his father's body into his arms, praying in Xhosa, not even cognizant of what words fell from him. Prayers to the ancestors to give his father back, pleas for him not to leave, perhaps fevered questions of what he was to do now. For the king was dead.

T'Challa would have to stand as king now.

He rocked his father's body in his arms as he himself had been rocked in those powerful arms as a child. Distantly, he was cognizant of the Avengers and others bravely assisting the wounded, helping to evacuate the survivors, even shoring up the damaged building to ensure nothing more would fall. And he knew, far away, that he ought to be helping them. That his power could be lent to save more lives, to prevent more injuries.

But T'Challa did none of it. He held his father's body and wept.

Eventually, T'Challa became aware of someone standing beside him. He looked up to find Natasha Romanoff.

"Your highness," she said, and those words were like a spear to his chest, "we need to get you to safety."

T'Challa realized he was the last living person in the room, though other dead remained.

He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. But, when she touched his shoulder to help him rise, he shook her off.

T'Challa could not leave his father's body. He would rather the earth swallow him up. So he got one arm beneath his father's knees and the other behind his back and rose with him in his arms. It was a mistake — he should not have been strong enough to do so easily, not without revealing his own enhancements — and he did not care.

Next to him, T'Challa thought he saw just a flicker of speculation in the Black Widow's eyes, but she said nothing and instead led him through the ruins of the room towards the nearest exit. He expected her to turn away as soon as she had seen him to the door, but instead she walked with him down the many stairs and outside, all the way to one of the ambulances that were assembling on every street.

Already, there were bodies lying upon the sidewalk covered hastily with coats or towels when no sheets were immediately available, and T'Challa would rather carry his father back to Wakanda than allow him that indignity, but Miss Romanoff seemed to understand as much. She grabbed a uniformed policeman and spoke to him.

"That man is the king of Wakanda. His family and his nation should be spared seeing him with the rest of the casualties. Can you ride with him to the morgue to ensure he is treated as befits a head of state?"

The officer's eyes widened, but he nodded. Beside him, the ambulance attendants pulled out a gurney. T'Challa swallowed bile as he laid his father upon the white sheets and pulled one up over his face himself. He paused only long enough to remove his father's ring.

"You can go with them," Miss Romanoff said from his elbow. "You don't need to stay here."

T'Challa rested a hand upon his father's chest. He shook his head.

"I cannot help him now. But perhaps I can help others."

It was not the answer he wanted to give. It was not the answer of a son mourning his father. And it was not the answer of the heir to the throne of Wakanda who must put his safety now above all else, or risk leaving his mother and sister to mourn not just one, but two this day.

But it was very much the answer of the Black Panther.

For some unknowable amount of time, T'Challa retraced his steps. He climbed back into the building, gathering the dead and carrying them from the wreckage. There were many more dead than just those who had been in the assembly; the casualties grew with every floor closer to the street. Each time he returned to the gathered emergency responders, he listened to the information being gathered by a rough mixed group of police, international forces, and the present Avengers.

And so he was amongst the first to overhear when Tony Stark announced he had footage of the bomber.

T'Challa slipped quietly into the crowd so he could see for himself.

At first, the video was fuzzy, just a white man with dark hair abandoning the news van before its explosion. But Stark did something that T'Challa was certain Shuri could do faster, and the face grew clear.

Steve Rogers let out a sound of denial and pain. "It can't be."

"Steve," Miss Romanoff said, putting a hand on his arm. "Steve, it…"

"That's James Buchanan Barnes," one of the foreign agents said. "Hydra agent. The Winter Soldier. He's back."

The group began to chatter, everyone with a phone calling their superiors and their teams to begin a search for this most deadly of terrorists. But, to T'Challa's surprise, the three Avengers did not move. Steve Rogers looked as though he had suffered deep grief and loss himself at this news, and T'Challa thought perhaps he had.

The explosion still rang in T'Challa's own ears, though, so he turned back to the building to continue his work. Only when there were more helpers and medics than bodies remaining did T'Challa finally stop. He found an intact bench on a bit of green grass that was too far from the road to be of much use to the emergency vehicles and first responders. He sat, and stared at his father's ring, and finally let himself think.

And he realized there was a duty he and only he should perform.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, knowing perfectly well it would be unharmed. Shuri's technology was far more durable than anything not from Wakanda.

He took a deep breath and dialed.

"T'Challa!" His mother's voice was frantic. "T'Challa, are you all right? What has happened?"

"Mother," he said, choosing his words with care. "I am unharmed. But."

His throat closed up.

"Brother!" That was Shuri, and she sounded close to tears. "I found footage of you carrying Baba! Is he going to be all right?"

T'Challa hated with all his soul that his first act as king was going to be to break his mother's and sister's hearts.

"King T'Chaka was killed in the explosion," he said, letting the formal Xhosa cover his pain.

The sound his mother made over the phone would haunt T'Challa for the rest of his life, second only to the sound of Shuri's own crying. He said nothing, for there was nothing he could do for them. But he listened to their pain.

It started a fire burning in his chest, dark and furious.

"My prince." That was Okoye's voice, and thank Bast herself that someone else was there, someone who could offer the support T'Challa was too far away to give.

"Okoye," he said, and his throat felt scraped raw. "Take care of my mother and sister for me."

"With my life," she replied at once. "But what will you do, my prince?"

There was warning in her words, but also understanding. And T'Challa knew that if Okoye had been here in Vienna and not in Wakanda, she would already have decided to do what he now must.

"I will not leave Wakanda without a king," he said finally. "But first, our people shall have our revenge."

He hung up before anyone could even begin to talk him out of it.

A moment later, Miss Romanoff approached. T'Challa could almost be grateful to her for waiting, and for giving him that moment of privacy. Her face still bore some scratches from the flying glass, and she was completely disheveled, but it was the compassion in her eyes that he noticed most of all.

"I'm very sorry," she said, sitting beside him.

"In my culture death is not the end. It's more of a...stepping-off point. You reach out with both hands and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into the green veldt where...you can run forever."

"That sounds very peaceful."

"My father thought so." Mind set, T'Challa slid his father's ring onto his own finger. "I am not my father."

"We'll bring in Barnes," she said, already and astutely knowing exactly what T'Challa intended.

He closed his hand into a fist. The world had taken his father; he would make war upon them all until the Winter Soldier's heart was torn from his chest.

"Don't bother, Miss Romanoff. I'll kill him myself."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Rhodey stood at attention more out of habit than anything else as the Secretary's helicopter landed on the tarmac. Beside him, Steve was doing something similar, if for completely different reasons; formality on Steve was usually some kind of insult. Tony, on the other hand, was completely ignoring Secretary Ross's arrival while tapping at his phone and basically being as rude as possible while still standing out there.

The Secretary strode up to them, leaving his pilot to wait with the copter. "Where's the rest of your team, Captain?"

"Inside," Steve said. His voice was clipped and cold.

Rhodey could guess that Rogers would rather be literally anywhere but here right now. Specifically, he'd rather be where his Hydra-brainwashed buddy was hiding out.

The trip back to the US from Romania had been...enlightening. Once they were ensconced on the Quinjet, and after Sergeant Barnes was thoroughly encouraged by the entire team to believe that they were on his side, he started opening up about his time with Hydra. And the words took on the shape of horror, of torture, every memory that he shared worse than the last.

He talked about the brutal methods of brainwashing and retraining, about an eternity of split-second memories between being unfrozen and reactivated with a series of words his waking self couldn't recite. About a hundred memories, each worse than the last, of a living nightmare lasting decades. And about the arm that was shattered in the fall he survived and replaced with the metal monstrosity he carried now.

Rhodey knew Tony was fascinated by the arm in particular and by the comparatively ancient tech that had crafted it, but he visibly restrained himself from asking about it until someone else brought it up.

It was Steve, of course, who asked if the arm hurt him ever.

Barnes's answer had been, "Always."

Which immediately gave everybody even more things to worry about. With Barnes's explicit permission, JARVIS had done a quick medical scan, displaying via hologram that the anchor bolts for the prosthetic went throughout the man's full torso, huge rods and supports criss-crossing his innards haphazardly, all intended to build an additional internal skeleton for the heavy, artificial limb.

Rhodey thought Steve was going to lose it at the sight, but it was Bruce who had to be hastily talked down from a Code Green.

Tony immediately started the process of designing an entirely new rig — and a new arm to go with it — that could replace the invasive Hydra contraption that apparently broke and rebroke bones every time Barnes overused the limb.

And still, Rhodey had thought to himself, that thing is the least of what Hydra did to him.

Eventually Barnes had let himself show his fatigue, and he'd fallen asleep on a bunk with Steve and Sam sitting sentinel over him. Shortly after which, the team got word that a mole attached to SHIELD (whom Nat and Fury had identified months ago, apparently) had alerted Secretary Ross that they were inbound.

"We can't let him anywhere near Barnes," Bruce said, green tint returning. "You let him get Barnes away from us and he'll…"

"We won't," Nat assured him, holding his hands tightly. "Nobody's going to let Ross hurt anyone."

"Hey, SHIELD agents," Tony had said. "Time for you two to earn your keep."

And now the Avengers met Secretary Ross at the Compound, secure in the knowledge that he was out of luck if he'd come for Bucky Barnes or Hydra's Winter Soldier. Rhodey was sure now that the two had never been the same person even if they were housed in the same abused body and soul.

"We have a lot to discuss," Secretary Ross said. "Let's get comfortable, shall we?"

Rhodey was a professional, career soldier, and as Secretary of Defense, he was contractually obligated to respect the man and his rank. But aside from that? He didn't trust him.

Rhodey had heard too much from Bruce in the first place, and that was before some of Tony's digging and the thinly veiled threat before the UN had solidified Rhodey's suspicion of Ross. He might be the Secretary of Defense, but Tony was sure Ross was playing a game, and intended for their lives to be the pieces.

Anybody who wanted to play with his team, his family, and most especially his little brother would have to go through Rhodey first.

They returned to the big conference room where everyone else was waiting. Tony and Steve took the head of the table again, and Rhodey put himself at Tony's elbow. Sam took Steve's. Nat, Clint, Vision, and Bruce flanked them, Bruce squeezed between Nat and Rhodey just in case. Rhodey really hoped whatever was going to happen wasn't an actual fight. Maiming the Secretary of Defense would not help the Avengers with their political situation.

Even if it might have made more than one person in the room feel better, probably.

"First of all," Ross said, "I understand you took the Winter Soldier into custody. I'm ordering you to transfer him to me. I've got a secure place to hold him."

Rhodey saw Tony flinch — they knew all about the Raft already thanks to Tony and some technically very illegal hacking. Even JARVIS had been disgusted at the underwater fortress specifically outfitted for enhanced people. And it didn't take a genius IQ to have suspicions about who exactly Ross was willing to lock in there, either.

"I'm afraid that's going to be impossible," Steve said, cool and collected. "We already transferred Sergeant Barnes to SHIELD and the NATO task force. They have him in an undisclosed location."

Secretary Ross's face went flat. "I should have been informed."

"Yeah, not really," Tony said, flippant but with a dangerous edge to his tone. "SHIELD was part of the task force to bring him in, and we're still under SHIELD. So...pretty cut and dry, Ross."

"Fine." Secretary Ross seemed to decide this wasn't a fight worth having. "Then let's talk about your relationship with SHIELD. Because it's going to end, and soon."

"You sure about that?" Nat asked. "The UN meeting got interrupted, but you were in the minority position, Secretary."

"Not for long," the man nearly growled. "Look, you people see me as the enemy, but I'm the best ally you've got and the sooner you figure that out, the better off we'll be."

"Forgive me, Secretary," Vision said, "but I'm afraid I don't understand. What does your proposal offer us that benefits us?"

Secretary Ross's expression was pinched and frustrated, but he visibly reined himself in.

"Whether you like it or not, at some point the Avengers will be dissolved as an independent organization and reorganized under some other umbrella. It might take an Executive Order, or a majority resolution at the UN, or all of you being arrested on charges for crimes you've committed and replaced by others more willing to play ball. But it will happen. And when it does, you need to decide how you want the view out your windows to look."

Ross had been carrying a briefcase, and now he extracted a folder.

"If the Avengers voluntarily choose to put themselves under the US military, you would report directly to me. And I'm willing to make a...call it a gentlemen's agreement with you."

"What kind of agreement, exactly?" Sam asked, arms crossed.

"I know I couldn't stop you from your do-gooder instincts if I tried. If there's a house fire in some town somewhere, you're going to hop on your little jets and deal with it. Fine. I can live with that. As long as you agree to obey my orders when I give them, I'd give you complete freedom otherwise. Go where you want, fight for world peace, whatever. I don't care. But when I do call, then you go where I say. That's the most fair deal you'd get."

"How so?" Bruce asked, and Rhodey could see how hard he was working to maintain a neutral countenance.

"The other two suggestions on the table involve NATO or the UN. Both of those would not include any provision for you to act under your own recognizance. If Hydra popped its head out of its holes, you wouldn't be allowed to move on them without authorization."

Ross leaned back, smirking.

"And authorization means meetings, committees, official documented orders. You might be waiting hours or even days between when the threat shows up and when you get to respond."

Rhodey absolutely hated that the man was right.

NATO would be faster than the UN, but under either governing body, the Avengers would have no independence. Maybe NATO could call an emergency meeting and get approval for a deployment in a matter of minutes or hours, but those would still be minutes or hours they would have to wait. The UN only met immediately under truly dire circumstances like the Chitauri invasion; anything less, and it would be two weeks from the beginning of the situation until their committees got together to issue a resolution.

On the one hand, Rhodey understood the argument generally for putting the Avengers under some kind of world power. SHIELD was shady as hell at best, and there was no real telling who, if anyone, had ever given consent for them to operate across various borders. With SHIELD, there was no way for anyone to tell the Avengers to go away and make it stick. And that...that mattered to Rhodey. Other countries should have the right to say no to them if they wanted.

(Except if they were being invaded by the Chitarui and everybody on earth was threatened. Maybe the safety of the planet outweighed the consent of one people. Maybe. He was still wrestling with the ethics of that.)

But, as much as Rhodey understood and profoundly respected the benefits in a chain of command with accountability and responsibility clearly defined, he still hated the options before them now. The UN had the most global appeal in terms of widespread collaboration, but having to wait for a two-week committee every single time there was a problem was a recipe for disaster. And NATO, while better, meant that they were clearly and definitively picking a side in international politics. NATO worked great from a US-slash-Western-European-centric perspective. But it would make it infinitely harder to work in Asia or Africa or South America, places that NATO didn't always play nice.

And the remaining option, to slot themselves in under Secretary Ross...well. So far, Ross had never put Rhodey in a position that made him weigh his loyalties. But the fact that he knew the Secretary could do so, at any time, was a problem. And, worse, Rhodey expected Ross would do it someday soon — just to prove he could.

Of course, the day Ross tried to turn Rhodey against Tony, he'd resign his commission on the spot.

But all that aside, Rhodey didn't trust the man. Didn't trust his intentions or his honor. And therefore he could not in good conscience trust the Avengers with him. Not knowing what the man had done to Bruce. Not knowing about the Raft. Not now, watching him bargain with a threat in his back pocket.

"I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye," Ross was saying, looking at Tony. "But if you can look beyond your grudge against me and your own egos, you'd see that my offer is the only one that makes any sense. If you want to keep being Avengers, you need the free hand only I can give you. And, honestly, is following a few of my orders from time to time such a price to pay for that?"

"Yes," Tony muttered under his breath.

Beside Rhodey, Bruce drew in a deep breath. He glanced at Tony for a moment before he cleared his throat.

"Do you really expect me to willingly put myself under your control ever again?" he asked. "Because I remember how that went the first time."

Ross looked sour at that. "Mistakes were made, I admit that."

"The phrase you're looking for is 'I made mistakes,'" Sam said pointedly.

Ross ignored him. "Circumstances have changed. Believe me, with your cooperation, our partnership could be beneficial for everyone."

"You'd still want to experiment on Bruce, though, wouldn't you?" Clint asked, speaking up for the first time. "Or on Barnes if we let you? Probably trying to make more super soldiers, too. So stop pretending this is about anything other than that."

"We know about the Raft," Nat said suddenly. "And we know that you intend to incarcerate enhanced individuals and, I assume, try to replicate their abilities into your own soldiers."

"And I can tell you right now," Steve said, leaning forward, fire in his eyes, "that every one of us will fight to the death before we let that happen."

"Face it," Tony said, and he pushed to his feet. "If we're getting a leash, nobody here is signing up for it to attach to one of your little shock collars."

"I'm sorry to hear that, I really am," Secretary Ross said, rising as well. "Then I want you to know that every person who dies because NATO or the UN have to have a fact-finding investigation before they let you do what needs doing will be on you."

His eyes were cold as he looked around the group. He sighed, as if with regret.

"As for my plans with the Raft? What I do to protect this planet is my business." He shrugged. "I thought you were heroes. Aren't you supposed to save people no matter the costs to yourselves? So if blood is shed, either by inaction from the UN or because I can't get what I need from you to advance my research, it will be your fault people will suffer and die."

Rhodey felt that one land in the group like a grenade, and he cleared his throat before anyone could crack.

"Secretary Ross, let me remind you that human experimentation is still illegal, and even the most enhanced people on the planet are still people. And if you try to change that, you're going to find a hell of an uphill fight on your hands."

"Colonel Rhodes," Ross said, turning a cold look on him, "I think you might want to reconsider your position in particular. I would hate to see you on permanent deployment to an isolated location where you can't support your friends."

Tony's hands gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. But Rhodey didn't even bother to rise to the bait. He just tried not to sound smug.

"You appear to have overlooked something, Secretary. After I rescued President Ellis in 2012, he personally added a clause to my enlistment papers. I can receive an immediate honorable discharge from my service upon request at any time without prior notice. And the Iron Patriot armor still technically belongs to Tony, so it goes where he tells it to. In case that's relevant."

Even Tony looked surprised and Rhodey could only roll his eyes. He had the biggest brain in the history of the Earth and hadn't realized that Rhodey hadn't been kidding when he told Steve he would join the Avengers the first day the Air Force wasn't useful to them?

Secretary Ross's face went even redder and flatter than before.

"Very well. Then trust me when I say that it is in the best interest of the United States and the planet for me to make it as difficult as possible for you to make any agreement with NATO or the UN. We could have been allies, but if you refuse to see sense, then I promise to be the biggest thorn in your side."

Clint actually gave him a relatively subtle one-finger salute.

"You're going to wish you'd signed on with me," Ross growled. "And everyone you don't save, you can blame your own shortsightedness. And every enhanced person who helps me, willingly or otherwise, can blame you for everything that happens to them."

Vision rose smoothly. "I believe it is time for you to leave, sir," he said, and that was the most impolite tone Rhodey had ever heard from the guy. He was impressed.

Nobody escorted Ross out this time. When the door shut behind him, there was a long, tense silence.

Then, Bruce let out a long sigh. "If I'd known then how this would go, I'd have let Hulk smash him when I had the chance."

Most everybody chuckled.

"It's not too late," Nat offered. "If you accidentally went Code Green and brought down the ceiling, we'd chalk it up to a tragic accident."

"Let's not go accidentally murdering any Cabinet members today, okay?" Steve managed, and he almost sounded normal.

"Do we need to talk through the proposal, or just shred it?" Sam asked, eyeing the folder still in the middle of the table.

"I believe I can take care of that," Vision offered. When Steve nodded, the Stone in his forehead glowed and a beam of light incinerated the file without so much as scorching the table. He settled back into his chair looking decidedly smug.

"He had one tiny point," Clint said when it was gone. "If we can't stay under SHIELD, NATO and the UN both mean bureaucracy. People will die waiting for us to get permission to save them."

"Isn't there something we can do about SHIELD?" Sam asked. "Why do we have to get handed over at all?"

"Because," Tony said, having returned to his seat and looking tired and worn suddenly, "it's the right thing to do. Like it or not, SHIELD was wrong to be the world's enforcer without checking with anybody. We're right back to where we were before. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundaryless, we're no better than the bad guys."

"We may not be perfect," Steve said, "but the safest hands are still our own."

Rhodey could feel the circular argument coming on again, so he was more relieved than was probably reasonable when JARVIS flashed a red light above.

"Please forgive my interruption, but we have a situation."

"What is it, JARVIS?" Tony asked, alert at once.

"The Tower, and Sergeant Barnes, are under attack."

-==OOO==-

The first indication Peter had that something was wrong was the faint sound of a distant alarm.

Peter frowned and looked up. The Tower had been quiet for days, ever since the remaining Avengers had flown out to Europe after the bombing. JARVIS had told Peter that the team was trying to locate Sergeant Barnes before anybody else did, and that apparently would take a while. So he decided to make use of a day May was working to sneak into the big lab in the Tower after school to do some work on his web shooters.

Peter shut his eyes and listened harder, feeling his enhanced senses stretch. Sure enough, there was an alarm blaring from above.

Why wouldn't JARVIS…? Oh.

Because with the No-Seeing Eye open, JARVIS didn't know that Peter was here.

Peter quickly packed up his things. He slid the web shooters onto his wrists, even though he hadn't quite finished with them. The new parts had sharp edges poking in awkward places and he flinched. But he'd rather have them if something was really wrong.

Peter stuffed his mask and goggles into the big cargo pocket on his pants, put his backpack aside, and shut the No-Seeing Eye in the zip pocket where he kept it.

"JARVIS, what's going on?" he asked.

"Master Parker, you must evacuate immediately," JARVIS replied. "The Tower is under attack. The two agents protecting Sergeant Barnes appear unable to overpower an unknown assailant."

That was a lot of information to take in quickly. Apparently the Avengers had found Bucky Barnes, and brought him here, and somebody was trying to get to him.

"Where are the Avengers?" Peter asked. "Shouldn't they be fighting?"

"They are on their way. They were at the Compound and have only just been informed. Now, young Sir, please. Your safety is my highest priority. The battle is dangerously close to your location."

JARVIS opened the door to the secret safe room off the lab.

"I will be able to protect you in there."

"Sorry, JARVIS," Peter said. He snapped the No-Seeing Eye open again. "This is my home, and if Mister Stark and the others brought Sergeant Barnes here, somebody's got to make sure he's still in one piece when they get back."

Peter knew JARVIS couldn't hear or see him, and he hoped that meant any tech the other guy had wouldn't work either. He ran for the emergency stairwell rather than the elevator and followed the sounds of gunfire and yelling to the Avengers' floor. Just before he eased the door open, he pulled on his mask and goggles.

"Why do you protect this murderer?" an unknown, accented voice was shouting.

"He didn't do the bombing!" a woman shouted back — but not Miss Hill, whom Peter had met before.

"You're lying!" the accented voice yelled.

Spider-Man took to the wall and the ceiling, crawling flat and slow. At the bend in the hallway, he stuck his head out just enough to see.

The window of the common room was broken and there was glass everywhere. A man in a black suit that bore more than a passing resemblance to a cat without a tail was approaching the big bar-slash-kitchen island, stalking like a predator.

Sergeant James Barnes stood behind the counter, and his face was pale. He had a bag open in front of him and Spider-Man could see so many guns in there, but he wasn't holding any. The blonde woman and the gray-haired man flanking him, however, were. And from the smell of gunpowder in the air and a few new holes in the walls, Spider-Man could tell they'd been using them.

Spider-Man could guess that, as soon as JARVIS gave them warning — or the guy he was mentally dubbing CatMan burst in — they had started for the back elevator because it was closer. JARVIS would have tried to evacuate them to the safe room just like he had Peter. But they apparently had to take cover first.

Spider-Man's instinct was to just dive in and help, but a voice that sounded like Loki in his head made him pause. Loki was always yelling at him for being reckless, for not thinking but just reacting. As he watched CatMan shrug off a bullet like a mosquito sting, he decided he couldn't just count on being able to tackle the guy. Also, the agents — whoever they were — and Sergeant Barnes might not realize Spider-Man was on their side, and he couldn't shake off a bullet like that.

What would Loki do?

He'd turn invisible or make copies of himself. Something magical so CatMan wouldn't be able to see him coming.

Spider-Man froze as an idea came to him. He crawled as quickly as he could, staying away from the fight so he could access the lab that looked out over the room. Once he was inside, he'd been in here a hundred times and knew it as well as he knew the lab in Queens. In a matter of seconds, he had the compounds he needed out of their cabinets.

Sorry about the carpet, Mister Stark.

He mentally checked the calculations, then balled up the nearest flammable thing in the lab — somebody's socks, why even — and got them burning with help from one of the lasers. Now he had ignition and the compounds and the whole process had taken less than a minute.

Spider-Man anchored himself to the ceiling and chucked the chemicals and the burning socks down into the middle of the room.

And just like on a field outside the Avengers Compound a year and a half ago, thick white smoke started to billow out from his impromptu smoke bomb.

Spider-Man didn't have time to pause. The instant the smoke hit the air, he started webbing CatMan to the floor from his perch.

"What is this?" CatMan yelled.

"I'd think a cat burglar would know!" he yelled back, putting on his heavier Queens accent by habit. "Avengers Tower is protected by Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man Security Inc!"

When he had CatMan webbed up six ways to Sunday, Spider-Man ducked through the smoke to where the others were.

"Hey, don't shoot me," he said as he got close. "I'm here to help."

"Who the hell are you?" the blonde woman asked.

"Spider-Man. Look, if you run for the elevator, JARVIS can get you all into the safe room."

"Coward!" CatMan yelled from behind. "First you kill my father, now you run rather than face me!"

"Don't listen to him," the gray-haired guy said. "Barnes, seriously. We know you're innocent."

Spider-Man could see that Sergeant Barnes's face was torn. For a legendary assassin, he looked so...sad. Like he wanted literally anything but to be in the middle of this fight. Like he was a half-second away from turning himself over to CatMan just to make it all stop.

Spider-Man's heart swelled with sympathy. Whatever else, this was Captain Roger's best friend in the world. And if Ned ever looked like that, Peter would protect him no matter what.

"Hey," he said. "Sergeant Barnes. Just get out of here. I'll handle this." He puffed himself up.

"What are you, twelve?" Sergeant Barnes asked, really looking at Spider-Man for the first time.

"No!" Spider-Man's voice cracked slightly and he scowled beneath the mask. "The Avengers will be here soon. Just get to the elevator. It's going to be okay."

Suddenly instinct blared in Spider-Man's mind and he was dodging before he really even knew why.

A wickedly clawed hand in black slashed through the air where Spider-Man had been only a second before. He flipped in the air, turning it into a kick on the way down.

CatMan caught his foot and threw him across the room.

He caught himself on a pillar on the way by. "Hey! Rude!"

Spider-Man didn't have trouble seeing through the smoke with his enhanced senses, so he charged for Cat-Man, hoping everybody with the guns wouldn't shoot him on the way. CatMan spun to punch him, but Spider-Man was ready for that.

Using a trick he'd learned from Loki, he dodged the hit and latched his hands onto CatMan's arm. He didn't even have to grip it — he just stuck to it with all his strength. Then he rotated downward hard like he was doing a summersault and dragged CatMan with him. At the bottom of the roll, he released his stickiness and CatMan slammed into the floor hard enough to crack it.

"Dude, you are the worst kind of uninvited guest," Spider-Man said, putting himself between CatMan and the others again. "Even bugs know when to get lost."

He shot another line of web as CatMan started to get up, pinning him to the floor.

"Okay." He looked over his shoulder. "Are you just really bad at listening, or what? I said get outta here!"

"You will not keep me from my revenge!" CatMan shouted, ripping up part of the floor to get out of the webbing.

"Can you just quit going all my revenge on this guy?" Spider-Man groused, dodging another swipe of claws. "Seriously! What did he ever do to you?"

"He murdered my father!"

"I didn't!" Sergeant Barnes yelled, surprising everybody. He cleared the semi-protective counter in one leap, landing next to Spider-Man and catching another of CatMan's slashes in one hand. A metal hand.

"You have a metal arm?" Spider-Man couldn't help staring at it now that he'd noticed it. "That's awesome, dude!"

"Not the time, kid," Sergeant Barnes replied. Without releasing CatMan's claws, he swung with his non-metal arm to clock CatMan in the head.

CatMan caught that swing in return. "I will not allow you to defeat me!"

Spider-Man took the opportunity of CatMan's momentary stillness to attach webbing to his ankles and yank really hard. CatMan's body went parallel to the floor and Sergeant Barnes released him in time for Spider-Man to fling him sideways into a pillar.

The smoke was starting to clear. Spider-Man took advantage of the lull to turn back to the two whoever-they-were agents. "You should really go now. Shooting's not helpful. I got this." But he could hear CatMan cutting his webs so he didn't take the time to actually make sure they did as he said.

"This isn't your fight, kid," Sergeant Barnes said, even as he and Spider-Man advanced on CatMan picking himself up.

"Yeah, it kinda is," Spider-Man said. "I generally object to people trying to kill people."

"And yet you defend that murderer?" CatMan's hands curled into fists. "Standing beside you is the man who killed dozens at the UN only days ago, and who has killed hundreds over the last several decades! If you defend evil, you become evil yourself!"

Spider-Man saw Sergeant Barnes flinch again and he threw his head back, holding his ground.

"Well, Sergeant Barnes isn't trying to kill anybody, and you are. So I think I'm the one on the right side here."

Sergeant Barnes muttered something Spider-Man wouldn't have caught without his enhanced senses: "Jesus, it's that scrawny punk all over again."

"Any idea where the Avengers are?" Spider-Man heard from the blonde agent behind them — who apparently still hadn't evacuated.

"No idea. And I can't get a signal out through JARVIS," the other said.

Spider-Man flinched with guilt. With the No-Seeing Eye open, JARVIS didn't work right and he assumed these people wouldn't have Mister Stark's phone number. But there was nothing he could do about that. If he shut the No-Seeing Eye, JARVIS might figure out who was under his mask.

Of course, that assumed he could deal with CatMan and get away before the Avengers showed up.

"I just remembered that I left the stove on," Spider-Man said, leaping to a ceiling rafter and putting himself in position to box CatMan in between himself and Sergeant Barnes, "so we need to wrap this up sooner rather than later."

CatMan took the opening to charge Sergeant Barnes, who started exchanging blows evenly with him. Spider-Man waited until Sergeant Barnes levied a particularly strong hit, knocking CatMan back a few inches. Then he swung down from the rafters and planted a kick into CatMan's side. CatMan caught the kick with his forearms, but there was no defense against Spider-Man's momentum and he went into a wall hard enough to leave shattered drywall behind.

Spider-Man tried webbing him up again, but CatMan was getting better at cutting himself free.

"You got anything stronger than those cobwebs, kid?" Sergeant Barnes asked.

"I mean, not really," Spider-Man said. "If I made the chemical composition any more durable, regular people would have a hard time getting loose, and I really don't want any purse snatchers stuck on the side of a building for more than a couple of hours or it becomes kinda inhumane. Like, what if they had to pee?"

Spider-Man couldn't tell if Sergeant Barnes was laughing at him or giving up on life. It kind of looked like both at once.

To be fair, Mister Stark and Aunt May both made that face at Peter sometimes, too.

Spider-Man became aware of something at the edges of his senses and he realized time was running out.

"Okay, look," he said, swinging himself to another spot, "I only have one job here and that's to keep you from messing with Mister Stark's stuff. And that includes people he invites into his Tower. Like, do you know how rare that is? So can you just, you know, chill out?"

"The Winter Soldier will die at my hands," CatMan said, facing Sergeant Barnes again.

"You really need a new hobby, dude," Spider-Man said. "Hey, Sergeant, help is almost here. Think you can hold him off for twenty seconds?"

"He cannot."

CatMan charged. He caught Sergeant Barnes with a blow that echoed off the metal arm.

Spider-Man felt torn. On the one hand, he really needed to get out of here, and right now. On the other, CatMan was getting angrier every second, and Sergeant Barnes was being pushed back. And the agents were still hanging out because they had nothing better to do or something.

Spider-Man knew he was going to regret this, and not too much later, but he couldn't just leave Sergeant Barnes on his own even for the few seconds before help arrived.

Spider-Man dropped down behind CatMan and aimed a punch at him.

And everything went white.

Spider-Man felt like his head was rebooting.

It took him a moment to realize he was lying on the ground, his back against a wall. His ears were ringing and his whole body felt like he'd been put through a garlic press.

He could feel flashes of pain littered across his skin like little burns, and as he blinked his eyes open, he could see that his costume had only barely survived intact.

Hearing came back slowly.

"...don't know what happened. JARVIS's targeting went offline. Scanning's down, too."

That was Mister Stark's voice.

Spider-Man groaned and tried to push himself up slightly.

Iron Man, Iron Patriot (War Machine), and Vision all stood between Sergeant Barnes and CatMan. The rest of the Avengers were gathering from the Quinjet hovering outside the landing pad. Spider-Man glanced up and saw a mark on the wall that he knew perfectly well came from one of Mister Stark's repulsors.

JARVIS is offline because of the No-Seeing Eye. Mister Stark was aiming at CatMan and hit me instead.

That thought was followed by another one.

I have to get out of here right this minute.

Spider-Man's body was already putting itself back together, and he could feel his injuries already repairing themselves, but maybe not quickly enough this time.

"I'll check on him," Mister Wilson offered, turning towards Spider-Man's position. Mister Barton was moving, too, either to come with him or to cover him.

Must go faster, Spider-Man's brain thought for him.

"Who are you?" Captain Rogers was asking, now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Sergeant Barnes and holding his shield out in front of him.

"A man with the right to claim revenge from this murderer."

Spider-Man watched Miss Romanoff take a step forward. "You have to know we're not going to let you do that." She paused. "Your highness."

"Who now?" Colonel Rhodes asked.

"Or am I wrong?" she tipped her head. "Is there another son of King T'Chaka I don't know about?"

The CatMan removed his mask revealing a face Spider-Man didn't immediately recognize, but apparently everybody else did.

"You're Prince T'Challa," Captain Rogers said.

"Soon to be King T'Challa," CatMan replied, "thanks to the Winter Soldier."

Spider-Man lost track of their discussion because suddenly Mister Wilson and Mister Barton were next to him.

"Hey." Mister Wilson pulled off his goggles. "You're that...bug guy, right? Are you okay?"

"Spider-Man," he corrected automatically. Then he coughed, lowered his voice, and took on the super heavy Queens accent he almost always remembered to use while in costume. "I'm fine, thanks."

"You took a repulsor blast to the chest," Mister Barton said, and Spider-Man did not like the speculating look on his face. "Even Cap doesn't just skip away from that."

"I'm good." Spider-Man ducked their helping hands and stood up. "Thanks, though." He started to edge away from everybody else.

If he could just get to the door to the landing pad…

"Hey."

Spider-Man froze.

Iron Man had his face mask up and was looking at him.

"You're the Spiderling. Crime-fighting Spider. Spider-Boy?"

"Spider-Man" he corrected again. And felt a cold wash of foreboding in his gut. This was bad.

"Thanks for coming out this way," Mister Stark said. "Hang around. After we deal with this whole mess, I've been trying to get in touch with you."

Spider-Man backed towards the exit. "Maybe some other time."

"Wait." That was Vision. "Peter, you're bleeding. I am sure Tony and Bruce would like to be sure you're unhurt even with your physical enhancements."

Spider-Man's heart dropped to his toes. His eyes snapped to Mister Stark's face.

"Peter?" That was Mister Barton, who had gotten really close to Spider-Man, close enough to actually cut off his escape route.

"No." Mister Stark's face went pale. "This doesn't...this can't…"

And Spider-Man remembered being a few years younger and standing a few stories up from here, and being on the other side of this situation. There were fewer Avengers staring then, and a lot less yelling than was probably about to happen.

But it was the same.

And he knew what he needed to do, even if he wouldn't have chosen to have it happen this way.

(Mister Stark hadn't chosen the timing last time, either. So maybe it was fair.)

Spider-Man reached up and gripped his mask with fingers that shook. He might not have been able to hold on to it at all except for his powers helping him out.

Peter pulled the mask off in one quick movement, eyes tracking right back to Mister Stark.

"Hi," he said, proud and scared. "I'm Spider-Man."

Chapter Text

Tony remembered the feeling of acute cardiac arrest. He'd gone into it he didn't even know how many times — as often as his arc reactor went sideways after Afghanistan and before he had it removed in early 2013. He knew how that pain and strange numbness danced together through his chest, how his hearing went fuzzy and his vision narrowed to shapes and colors.

Seeing Peter in the Spider-Man costume felt like that.

His kid...had been swinging around Queens in pajamas. His kid had caught a car.

His kid had just taken a repulsor blast into a wall.

Thirty seconds before, Tony had been balancing dealing with the whole Wakandan-royalty-trying-to-kill-Barnes thing against the continuing situation of Ross and the future of the Avengers, and then also trying to figure out what the hell happened to take JARVIS offline but only kind of because instruments were still working even when the AI went non-responsive. And then he saw the vigilante he'd been trying to locate sitting on his rubble-strewn floor and thought, Well, at least that solves one problem.

Now he had an entirely different problem.

Tony keyed in the manual release on the Mark 56 and stepped out of it. He wasn't watching his back even with T'Challa scowling over there, and he would just have to hope somebody else would deal with that mess without him. The rest of the room, the rest of the world could go to hell for all Tony cared right now.

"Peter." His voice sounded foreign to him. Like it came from someone else entirely.

"Mister Stark." Peter's eyes were big, and there was a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. "I…"

The center of Tony's vision was a white-hot hole, like a blurry nightmare.

Tony didn't know how he even crossed the open floor, to say nothing of the remains of furniture between them. The next thing he knew, he had one hand latched around Peter's forearm with a grip that shook.

"Tony…" Cap said from somewhere, and Tony realized probably everybody was staring.

He could not have cared less.

Tony had no idea what he said. It was probably rude. But everybody got the hell out of his way as he walked, pulling Peter along to the nearest elevator. JARVIS didn't respond, but there were buttons and Tony stabbed one and sent them shooting to the proper lab below.

His awareness of the world started to come back. The familiar smell of oil and recently machined parts, the whirring sound of the bots, they settled him as they always had when he was on the edge of blackout intoxication or, in years past, palladium poisoning.

Tony didn't have words for what was crashing through his soul.

Dum-E rolled up too close, bumping into them in his excitement, and Tony's vague control over himself disintegrated. Rage rose up in its place and he erupted at the bot savagely.

"Get out of here or so help me I'll tear you apart with my bare hands!"

The bot immediately reversed course, You and Butterfingers cowering in his wake.

And the boy beside him flinched in a way Peter had never, never flinched from him.

Tony had never shouted at Peter. He had never let him see his moments of dark frustration or his livid fire. He had never lost control in front of the kid, not like this — fear and grief was different. But his chest was heaving and Tony wasn't sure he'd ever been so close to lashing out with all the harshest recriminations that boiled just under his skin.

Then a thought came unbidden: That's exactly what my dad would have done.

Sudden revulsion rose up choking in his throat and Tony dropped Peter's arm as though burned. He stumbled back, catching himself against the nearest worktable, breathing hard in horror and the crush of emotions that came too fast to feel. But his vision was finally clearing and he could see Peter's pale face, that tiny drip of blood drying on his chin. His eyes were wide.

I made Peter afraid of me.

"Oh, god." Tony rubbed at his face to block out the sight. "Kiddo, figlio, I'm…"

"I'm sorry!"

Tony opened his eyes to see wetness gathering in Peter's. The kid took a hesitant step forward.

"Mister Stark, I'm...I'm so sorry. Please, please don't…"

Tony didn't need his kid to voice the rest of those words because he knew those feelings all too well himself in the face of a father's towering anger. Please don't leave me please don't go away please don't be mad please don't hate me.

His body moved without any input from his brain, but he didn't need a brain right now. It had almost betrayed him, almost let him make the one mistake he'd sworn never to make with Peter. He needed his kid in his arms and he needed to give him the most crushing hug he'd ever given.

Peter leaned into the hug, not flinching from it, and that triggered relief as powerful as his rage had ever been.

"Peter, I'm sorry," Tony rasped, bile in his throat. "I'm...don't be scared. I could never...any of it. Whatever you're thinking. Never. I'm just…"

Terrified. Shocked. Furious. Scared. Proud.

Tony knew he could screw this up irreparably. This was a critical moment akin to that big talk with May right after his first run at Peter's birthday. He could make a misstep and lose his child forever. He could repeat his father's mistakes and shatter the most precious thing in his life.

Tony would rather take a bullet to the brain than that. So he forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Tell me about it," he managed, forcing everything else churning in his mind to shut up.

He held Peter's head to his shoulder and tried to focus on listening.

"It was...that day I got sick at school. I got bit by a spider and that's why I was bleeding. And I know I was fine after, but then I started to change, and I got all these powers, and I wanted to help people so I made a costume and I invented these webs and…"

Tony's head was reeling.

(Someday, later, he would realize that the hitch in Peter's breath in that moment wasn't emotion, but the kid still holding something back. And because he wasn't looking, he didn't see the lie.)

"...and I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I know you and May would never have let me do this and I really need to do this, and I just thought if I could prove myself then maybe you would be proud enough of me that you wouldn't stop me because Queens needs Spider-Man, and I need Spider-Man and…"

Some of those words cut through Tony's brain fog and he pushed on Peter's shoulders so he could see his eyes.

"I am always proud of you, Peter." Tony had no idea what was on his face, if there were tears, if he was red or pale, so he tried to put all his force into his voice. "You don't have to get cats out of trees and stop speeding cars in sweatpants for that."

He ran his hand through Peter's hair, so much more unruly than usual, damp with sweat from the fight — oh, god, the fight.

"Did he hurt you?" Tony started checking Peter's arms, shoving up the thin cotton shirt. "If that home-invading bastard laid a hand on you, I'm going to kill him and everybody he's ever looked at."

Then his thoughts abruptly switched.

"I hit you." Tony thought he could shatter. "The repulsor. I shot you into a wall."

Peter's face broke into a helpless smile. "I'm...I'm okay." He cleared his throat. "I'm a lot more...durable than I used to be. I don't think I'll even have a bruise in another half hour or so."

Tony thumbed over the blood on Peter's face, fighting the urge to retch at the thought of harming his kid — let alone with a repulsor blast that could shatter the spine of a regular person all too easily. "You…?"

"I heal at a rate more than twice what Captain Rogers does," Peter said, and the light in his eyes started to bloom bright with excitement. "I'm stronger and faster, too. And I stick to things."

"Well, there was never any doubt you'd improve on Spangles up there," Tony said, and he was breathing again. He could do this. He must do this. "But Peter…"

The crest of heartbreak rose in the kid's eyes, ready to fall and crash like a wave.

"Who else knows?" Tony asked, buying himself time. "Anybody?"

Peter shook his head. "Nobody."

"Not even May?"

Peter snorted. "One — like she could keep this a secret from you. And two — you know how she'd freak out."

"And then you'd freak out," Tony finished.

"Exactly."

"So, the webbing?" Tony asked. "That tensile strength is off the charts. Who manufactured that?"

"I did."

Pride rose fierce and hard and Tony could only grin at his brilliant, impossible child. "Of course you did." But he took in the sorry state of Peter's clothes. "The onesie, though…"

"It's not a onesie!" Peter objected.

"Yeah, it is." Tony reached for where the mask was still clutched in Peter's hand. He recognized the goggles as rejects from Sam's gear. "Can you even see in these?"

"Yes." Peter was defensive. "It's like my senses have been dialed to eleven. There's way too much input, so...they just kinda help me focus."

That was something to think about later. The whole outfit was something to think about later.

"Okay, Underoos, I gotta know." He waited until Peter met his eyes again, watching the kid try to calm himself down, and doing it a lot better than Tony was his own inner turmoil. "Why did you choose this? What...made you decide to go become the vigilante of Queens?"

"Because...because I've been me my whole life. You've saved me so many times. And...I've had these powers for six months…"

That was a different horror Tony chose to panic over later — his child had been doing this for six months and he never knew. Nobody knew.

"...and I couldn't tell anybody. I...I knew you would stop me. But...you know how Aunt May says you can't prevent the bad things from happening? You can only deal with them and fix them after?"

Tony nodded.

"Well, now that...now that I can do the things I can do...if I...if I don't do something when I can...then when those bad things happen, they happen because of me." He let out a breath. "I'm not...I'm not trying to be...I'm not an Avenger. But Queens doesn't need an Avenger. The...the kids walking home from their friends' houses at night don't need an Avenger. They just need somebody looking out for them."

Tony remembered Peter being ambushed last June in just that way.

"So…" He chose his words carefully. "So you wanna look out for the little guy? You wanna do your part? Make the world a better place, all that, right?"

"Yeah." Peter's smile was tight with relief. "Yeah. Yeah, just looking out...for the little guy. That's-that's what it is." He glanced down, then up. "Can you...are we going to be okay?"

Tony realized Peter wasn't asking permission even though he damn well should. Peter was asking Tony if he would still love the kid even though Peter was going to do this. And he realized he was in an impossible situation.

Because May had warned him and he'd seen it himself enough over the years — Peter Benjamin Parker was all kind and sweet and helpful until he decided something was right and something needed doing, and then no force on Earth could stop him. This kid had never shied away from sneaking into Tony's labs to make presents, or from befriending possibly-evil Asgardians.

If Tony said no, ordered Peter to stop playing super-hero, he would break Peter's heart — and Peter would keep doing it anyway. If he threatened to tell May (or actually told May) and they both combined forces, they would make Peter freak out and cry, but he would still use whatever means he had used so far to sneak around and keep sneaking around. If Tony locked the kid in the Tower to protect him, Peter would just escape out a window because apparently that was a thing he could do.

And Tony would continue to not know he was doing it. Peter would keep protecting the streets of Queens from muggers and speeding cars, and he would keep doing it alone.

Tony wanted to keep Peter safe, and the only way to do that was to keep the lines of communication open between them. The only way to protect Peter was to make sure Peter was doing things where Tony could watch over him.

"May is going to kill me," he said. "You get that, right? She is going to murder me. And then Pepper will bring me back to kill me again."

The smile on Peter's face was wide and beautiful and Tony was absolutely certain he had made the only choice available to him and it was still the wrong one, and he'd never been backed into a tighter, more dangerous corner.

"I'll protect you, padrino," Peter promised.

-==OOO==-

"So, you like cats?"

Bucky blinked at the man. Sam Wilson, Falcon, aerial fighter, ally to Steve Rogers, not civilian, his brain told him. Not for the first time, he wondered if he would ever be able to remember and retrieve information normally — whatever that was — and not like looking through a file cabinet in the dark with a flashlight to get at the details. He'd met the man only hours ago, spent the entire flight back from Eastern Europe in the plane with him, but that was still short-term and his short-term memory was a bitch these days.

"Sam." Steve Rogers looked chiding, and that was something Bucky did remember all too well.

"What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don't wanna know more?"

Deescalation tactic, his brain identified. Lessen tension, redirect focus, stall for time. Good job, Wilson.

A few of the other Avengers made faces and tried to hide amusement, not very successfully, but Steve apparently decided to ignore them all in favor of going for tactical information.

"Your suit — it's Vibranium?" he asked.

The man in black, Prince T'Challa, political leader, dangerous, apparently enhanced, seeking revenge, met Steve's eyes coldly.

"It is. The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king. So, I ask you...as both warrior and king...how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?"

"Bucky didn't bomb the UN," Steve said.

"It's true." The SHIELD agents tasked with his custody moved forward, closing ranks with the other Avengers. Agent Ross, bureaucrat, capable, significant battle experience, lifted his chin and faced T'Challa squarely. "We have the evidence."

"Your own evidence is already being played upon every screen in the world, and every angle shows only one face." His dark eyes were fixed on Bucky.

"That's what we were meant to believe." That was the redhead. Natasha Romanoff, also known as Natalia Romanova, Black Widow, assassin, deadly, master spy, more heavily armed than she appears. Bucky felt better with her at Steve's side. She was cold and steady. That would be useful if Steve was in danger.

Steve is always in danger.

"Listen." Steve held his hands out. "Let's sit down and talk about this. You're outnumbered, but we don't have to be on opposite sides. If you look at everything we compiled and you still think Bucky is guilty, we can always fight afterwards."

Bucky didn't need to be able to see Steve's face to know it was twisted in that little-boy smile he hadn't grown out of even when his head got huge enough to match his attitude.

"What about the kid?" The other SHIELD agent asked. Sharon Carter, relative of Peggy Carter, tough broad with good aim. "And Stark?"

"I think they're going to be busy for a while," Romanoff said.

Mention of the kid made Bucky tighten his jaw. He had no intel on the guy except that he wore a tracksuit and goggles, could crawl on the ceiling and take a hit as hard as Bucky himself, and looked about twelve years old. There was something about this Spider-Man, real name Peter ?, that everyone but T'Challa and his SHIELD babysitters knew and no one was saying. Something connected to Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark, Iron Man, genius, billionaire, co-leader of the Avengers with Steve.

"Come on." Colonel James Rhodes, 'Rhodey,' Air Force pilot, Iron Patriot, close ally of Stark, led the way towards a different elevator from the one Stark and the kid had taken. "Let's do this someplace that isn't all torn up."

The purple one,Vision, not human, little intel, member of the Avengers, knew civilian name for Spider-Man, was hanging back even as the other Avengers started to follow. "I believe I may have erred."

"You definitely outed the kid," Clint Barton, Hawkeye, assassin, infiltrator, deadly with any ranged weapons but prefers bow and arrows, long-time SHIELD asset, said. "But that's for the best, too. They'll figure it out."

"Are you okay?" That was directed at Bucky and he turned to the last person who had been hanging in the background. Doctor Bruce Banner, the Hulk, dangerous, do not antagonize, was looking at him with concern. "Looks like it was a pretty big fight."

"I'm fine," Bucky said. "The kid took more hits than me."

The Avengers all reacted to that, or did not react and that itself was a reaction, and Bucky wished he hadn't said it. Factual information is not always helpful. I keep forgetting.

"Don't interrupt them right now, Bruce," Wilson said. "If they need you, they'll ask."

Bucky hadn't made the connection that Banner was concerned enough to change objectives and noted Wilson's read of people. But Romanoff was reading the situation, too, though with a different mission in mind. She had never stopped watching T'Challa, and she along with Steve and the SHIELD pair continued to keep themselves between Bucky and the person calling for his blood.

"Prince T'Challa," she said. "Officially, none of this ever happened. Bucky Barnes is in SHIELD custody and you were never here and neither were we or anyone else you met tonight. Just so we're clear."

T'Challa actually cracked a tiny smile. "If I were here officially, it would be troublesome for my reputation and my country. You may depend upon my discretion, however this ends." His expression hardened as his eyes trailed over Bucky again. "But until I see this evidence you claim to possess, know that I will not rest until the Winter Soldier who murdered my father is dead."

Winter Soldier. Fist of Hydra. Asset. Assassin. Murderer. Ready to comply.

Bucky shook his head. If the rest of his head was like a file cabinet in the dark, that was a corridor that was pure darkness, the endless cold void of a Siberian winter without a single star in the sky. And there were monsters down that corridor.

This would be a bad moment for a flashback.

So he tightened his hold on his wandering, scrambled-egg brains and followed where Colonel Rhodes had started to lead.

The elevator was too tight for them all, and Bucky was both grateful and exasperated that Steve basically shoved him in with half the Avengers including Doctor Banner, leaving himself, Wilson, Romanoff, and Vision to ride with T'Challa. Bucky definitely remembered tiny, scrawny Steve who had needed to be shoved out of trouble on a daily basis. Just because Steve was now the size of a truck didn't mean he needed to return the favor.

They ended on another floor with a more casual living room setup, one that Bucky could quickly identify as being a personal space used by at least some of the Avengers quite frequently.

How many living rooms does Stark need?

Apparently at least two in the same Tower.

That follows. Howard was just as bad.

But the Howard Bucky remembered wouldn't have charged headlong into the fight in a flying suit of armor, nor would have stood so staunchly by Steve's side all this time, so that made the younger Stark worth more in Bucky's estimation.

It is not strategic to gauge people on their treatment of Steve. They might betray him.

Other than proximity to Steve and Hydra notes, it's not like I have a lot else to go on, though.

They did come to help me. That should count for something.

Bucky opted to ignore the briefing that supposedly exonerated him. First of all, he knew he'd done literally hundreds of horrible, unforgivable, worthy-of-vengence things, but he hadn't actually done this one, so he didn't need to know or care how they proved it. Second of all, he didn't care all that much about either the proof against him or the proof in his favor.

Nothing is really real. Everything changes depending on what you see through your scope. It doesn't matter if I did this crime or not. I've done it a thousand times. I'm as guilty of this as any of the others.

There was something wrong with that logic that itched, like tiny-Steve poking him in the ribs long ago, but he didn't bother to deal with it.

Something else needed his attention.

Bucky had been away from Hydra long enough to have learned to interpret the signals of his body again. All of that had been suppressed by the constant wiping or freezing procedures — he didn't actually know which — and the months to relearn to understand sensations like hunger, exhaustion, and pain had been awkward and regularly humiliating. All those responses had been shut down by Hydra because they all got in the way of the mission.

If Bucky didn't want to live Hydra's way anymore, he had to reject everything they gave him. Including the bodily numbness that would otherwise have made moments like this a little easier.

Not long before T'Challa had shown up to try to kill him, an unfamiliar sensation had struck him. It was pain, prickly and hot like overstimulated nerves. And it seemed to vibrate.

Now that T'Challa was distracted and the entire complement of Avengers was watching him, Bucky took the nearest chair, sat down, shut his eyes, and tried to chase the feeling. It was like doing a maze in the newspaper with a pencil, but inside his body.

His arm. It was something wired into his arm, so it was triggering nerves that had been twisted and repurposed to control the appendage.

It doesn't feel like a short. And I didn't take enough damage in the fight to cause this.

After a moment, he identified the buzzing. The feeling of it, and the heavier knowledge it carried, made his chest tighten with foreboding.

"Hey."

Bucky wasn't surprised, because he would have to be truly dead before he would fail to notice someone approaching him in an open room like this, even with a discussion happening at the other end and a lot of not-quite-yelling. So he was calm when he opened his eyes to see Wilson standing nearby.

"You okay? You look a little off."

Bucky snorted. "How would you know what's normal on me?"

That made Wilson smirk. "You're unique, I'll give you that. But I've known combat vets with screaming PTSD, so I know the signs of a problem." He relaxed his body posture deliberately enough for Bucky to read it if he was unconscious. "Just saying, if you needed some air, I'd go with you."

"Not that," Bucky said. Then, because he remembered manners sometimes, "Thanks."

"You wanna tell me why you look like you'd like to punch somebody's teeth out?" Wilson asked. "Not that I blame you. Cat dude comes in through the window at me, I'd probably feel the same way."

Bucky shrugged — it had taken practice to move that shoulder at the same time as his flesh one given how the rig tied them together. "He's doing what he thinks he has to."

Wilson's eyebrows went up. "You don't care that he tried to kill you?"

"He went after the agents first, which wasn't fair. They didn't do...all the things I did. But I've killed enough people, I should expect a few to come try to kill me back." Bucky paused. "Couldn't let him hurt them, though, or that kid."

Wilson's face bent in an unfamiliar way. Expression suggests amusement, but also sadness. Maybe something like respect? The sadness could be sympathy.

I think Wilson would be my ally, not just Steve's.

Did I do that somehow? Or is it Wilson's nature to form alliances quickly?

More intel needed.

"Well," Wilson said, "on behalf of everybody who likes that kid, and that's basically anybody who's ever met him because he gets under your skin like that, thanks."

"Seems like you didn't know he was enhanced," Bucky said carefully. Intelligence gathering disguised as small talk is highly successful. Especially on targets not trained to resist. Sorry, Wilson. Good thing you're not Romanoff or Barton.

"Yeah, that...I'm going to have to deal with that at some point here. We all will. Especially Tony." He shook his head. "Leave it to that kid to somehow get super powers after everything else he's been through, and start being a junior Avenger in his neighborhood."

"Is he Stark's son?"

Expression suggests yes. Shake your head if you want, Wilson, but your face doesn't lie as well as you think you do.

"No, but they're close. Kind of...part of the Avengers family." Wilson changed topics deliberately, and not subtly. "You are too, now. Steve's been thinking about you at every holiday since I met him. You're like the weird cousin who never shows up, but there's a spot at the table for you."

Good to know people already think I'm a weirdo. That will help when I act in an unconventional manner.

Bucky supposed he had to say something to that, so he settled on repeating, "Thanks."

"Sounds like they're wrapping up over there," Wilson said.

Bucky knew that. He could listen to and participate in both conversations at once, and he had not missed so much as a breath by T'Challa while he was that close to Steve. So Bucky nodded and rose. His arm could wait.

"So," Steve was saying, "now that you've seen everything, you have to realize Bucky's innocent."

"I'm not," Bucky said without meaning to.

Every person turned to him. Bucky wanted to turn to himself and ask, What the hell, big mouth?

But he'd said it, and like a bullet fired from a gun, he couldn't get it back now. So he just finished the thought.

"I'm not innocent. I've killed people. Hundreds of people. Maybe thousands. But."

Bucky met T'Challa's eyes without fear. What was there to be afraid of? The worst anybody could do was kill him.

That would have been a gift with Hydra. Bucky could handle it.

"I didn't kill your father."

T'Challa stared at him, then finally nodded. "I believe that is true."

"Oh, good." That was Colonel Rhodes. "I didn't really want to fight people tonight. Tony gets bent out of shape when we break the windows in the Tower and you already took out enough of those."

"However." T'Challa turned his attention back to Steve. "You say it is Hydra, this Rumlow and Strucker, that committed the crime?"

"That's what our intelligence suggests," Romanoff said.

"Then I request you allow me to assist you in hunting them down," T'Challa said. "And if you refuse, then I shall do so on my own. I will have justice for my family and my nation."

"Honestly," Steve said, "the two enhanced working with them are tough even for us. Another enhanced on our side could be a big help."

"Captain," Vision said, "are we not intending to take them into custody alive? I do not believe Prince T'Challa's desires are in line with that goal."

Steve's face did a thing Bucky knew all too well. People in this era thought that because Steve had made a lot of patriotic speeches, and because a lot of movies had been made about him after his disappearance played on the same stereotype, that he was a paragon of virtue. That Steve Rogers was Captain America and therefore stood only for truth, justice, the moral high ground, and American exceptionalism.

Those people had never watched Steve Rogers lead the Howling Commandos against Hydra and Nazis, taking absolutely no prisoners and unrepentant of the blood he spilled in the process.

Maybe Captain America was a demigod of goodness, but Steve Rogers was a man of convictions, and sometimes those convictions got pissed off.

And Bucky knew Steve was pretty damn pissed at Hydra right now.

"I don't think they'll really give us the choice," Steve said.

Hey, that was actually a diplomatic answer. I'm proud of you, Stevie. Didn't know you had it in you.

"But first we have to find them," Agent Ross said. "And we have nothing to go on."

Oh. I should speak up.

"I think I know where they are."

Again, all those eyes on him.

"How?" Barton asked.

Bucky held out his metal arm. "I am receiving a signal. It's Hydra. Like a recall alert. It can only be activated from one place. And I know Rumlow had access because that's where he picked me up for my last mission."

"Where?" Steve asked. At the same time, Romanoff asked, "Why would they recall you?"

Romanoff's question was more important, so Bucky answered it. "I think it's probably a trap."

"Wanna elaborate on that, Barnes?" Wilson asked.

"The recall is not likely to be triggered accidentally. But if Hydra was aware that you found me, they would anticipate you following the signal to the base. Even knowing it's a trap."

"Why would we go there if it's a trap?" Doctor Banner asked.

This is the bad part. "Because I'm not the only Winter Soldier. There are five more."

Good reference on facial responses. Except Romanoff, Barton, Ross, and Carter, this is the series of expressions related to horror and despair for each person present. Useful for later situations.

"Who are they?" Steve managed.

"Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum." He paused. "Worse than me."

"Can Rumlow use them the way he was using you in DC?" Colonel Rhodes asked.

"Probably. They speak multiple languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in one night. You'd never see them coming."

"And that's why it's a trap," T'Challa said. "For you cannot allow such individuals to fall into the hands of your enemies."

"They planned this," Agent Carter said. "They intentionally made us go after you so you'd tell us about this base. But why?"

"Well." Vision tipped his head. "If one wished to eliminate the Avengers, a squad of five individuals as dangerous as Sergeant Barnes, plus the two enhanced they already have, might be the only option."

"Where are they?" Steve asked.

"Siberia."

"We need to get Tony up here," Wilson said. "Even if it's a trap, we had a tough time just against those two enhanced. Adding five more…" He shook his head. "Even with the Iron Legion, this is going to be brutal."

Bucky could sympathize. He'd actually fought the other Soldiers a few times. He wasn't looking forward to doing it again.

"I'll call Fury," Agent Carter said.

The discussion went on around Bucky, but most of it passed him by without sinking into his muddled thoughts. The Siberian base was full of shattered memories and fragments of rage and pain, and always those damned words he couldn't even think without touching the trembling edge of insanity. He'd been away from Hydra long enough that he could pretend the words would no longer work on him, but decades as the Fist of Hydra had stripped him of any real optimism.

"Buck?"

He realized Steve had led him away from the others. "Sorry." He looked away from Steve's worried eyes. "Lots of memories. No good ones."

"I can't imagine." Steve's face was soft and full of kindness. "You don't have to come with us, Buck. You can stay here with the agents and Peter. I mean, you probably should."

"No." The answer came out of him as sharp as an elbow strike, and he straightened up with its truth. "Nobody else knows that base. There are things there, dangerous things, besides the other Soldiers. And they…"

I can't let them hurt you, Stevie. I can't let them put you in that chair. I can't let them do to you what they did to me.

I have to fight them. I have to make sure they're all dead. I have to see their bodies with my own eyes. I'll never sleep if I don't know they're gone.

It's my fault you're going in there. It's my fault your team is walking into my nightmare. I have to be there to make sure it doesn't become anyone else's.

I can't let you die.

"Hey." Steve put a hand on his flesh shoulder, lightly, a gentle pressure as if Bucky were made of thin glass. "I get it. Whatever you need. We've got your back, Buck."

"You shouldn't trust me, Steve," he said, not completely intentionally.

Steve just smiled. "I can't help it. I'm with you to the end of the line, Bucky. No matter what."

-==OOO==-

"Homecoming. One. Freight car."

"Bucky!"

The Soldier ignored the shout from behind him; the weakness of a stranger's pain meant nothing. He drew himself up.

"Ready to comply."

Chapter Text

Of course the Siberian base was in some kind of impenetrable missile silo with walls so thickly reinforced that even JARVIS couldn't get a real scan of the interior. Because what Tony needed right this second was for this mission to be more difficult than it already had to be.

Cap had sort of hinted that Tony didn't have to come on this one, that he could stay at the Tower with Peter, deal with the revelation that his kid had superpowers — but that was crap and even Steve didn't try to stick with it for long. Rumlow, Stucker, and the Maximoff twins had already wiped the floor with the team once. Now adding five guys as dangerous as Barnes into the mix?

Not a fight Tony was going to let the others attempt without actual backup.

So that was why he'd ended up in the Mark 56 with about a dozen suits from the Iron Legion protocol on standby in the undercarriage compartment of the large Quinjet, and he was just not going to think about Peter if he could help it.

Tony could only solve one problem at a time. And this was a big problem.

Barnes had given them as much tactical information as he could about the layout of the place, but even he'd admitted that he hadn't had free run even when he was what he called 'wiped' — which sounded like the worst kind of mind-control yet. Tony didn't have to look to know Clint was flinching whenever Barnes talked about it, and he could only sympathize. Being inside your body but somebody else running the programming?

That was a whole other kind of nightmare situation.

Just as they'd prepared to touch down outside the base, Steve had called everybody together. Besides Thor who was still off-world somewhere, it was the full team: Nat, Clint, Bruce for when a Code Green was needed, Rhodey, Sam, and Vision. And T'Challa tagging along hoping to kill one or both of the Hydra jerks who definitely deserved to meet the business end of those sharp Vibranium claws.

(No, Tony did not geek out upon learning that Wakanda had enough Vibranium to work it into a suit of that caliber. He did not. He also did not offer to buy it. But, in that case, it was only because Rhodey elbowed him before he could try it.)

And then there was Barnes, who had looked sick to his stomach the whole ride over. Tony could only hope the guy held it together when they got inside. Seven enhanced people was more than enough to deal with before adding a teammate in badly-timed emotional distress.

The man was entitled to be distressed, but he'd chosen to come along anyway, so Tony had to believe he knew what he was getting into. How Barnes would handle it was a different question entirely. But Tony would keep an eye out just in case.

"This is going to be an ugly fight," Steve had said. "The other Winter Soldiers are all enhanced like Bucky and me, skilled with weapons, and they'll be shooting to kill. Then Pietro and Wanda Maximoff will probably be here, too, and that means his super speed and her...whatever she does."

He'd looked away and Tony didn't blame him. Tony still had nightmares from Wanda's little vision quest a year before.

"It's a Hydra installation," Barnes had spoken up, "so there's stockpiles of guns and ammo around every corner, and every section can lock down to cut it off from the others in case of infiltration. Those doors come down, you'll have to take the glacier apart to get out."

"So," Tony had interrupted before Steve could go on, "we go in, we shoot everything that moves until it stays down, and we don't get locked in any closets. That about it?"

Steve's exasperation had hidden a tiny amount of relief and Tony knew it. "Something like that."

Of course, no plan survives contact with the enemy — Tony didn't remember who'd said it, but it was annoyingly true.

Especially today.

"JARVIS, what have these guys been eating in their Wheaties that makes them pop up like a repulsor blast is a light breeze?" Tony griped, smashing another of the five Winter Soldiers into the nearest steel wall. Clint had given them rapid-fire nicknames as soon as they arrived; Tony was pretty sure this one was Shaggy.

"I believe the serum to create these soldiers must differ slightly from that which produced both Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes," JARVIs said. "Indeed, no one else has taken a repulsor blast so easily who began life as a human."

"What about Peter?" Tony asked, banking farther down the missile shaft after a blur of silver and red.

"What about him, sir?"

Tony blinked. "He just...you know what, never mind. Can you track Tweedle-She and Tweedle-Run?"

"If you mean Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, I am endeavoring to do so now."

"Anyone have eyes on Rumlow or Strucker yet?" Rhodey asked over comms.

"Not yet." That was Nat, and the staccato of gunfire punctuated her words.

"Bucky!"

Tony turned at Steve's shout to see a body in midair falling down the missile shaft from above. He changed his angle and flew up to meet him halfway, latching onto Barnes around the middle rather than yanking on either of his arms and ripping him in half with that horrifying lattice of metal woven into his skeleton to support the bionic arm.

"Hang on," he said.

Then something hit him from the side and they both went spiraling down the open area to the ground.

"Sir, I believe that was Pietro Maximoff," JARVIS informed him too late.

"Thanks for the warning!"

Tony flipped over and fired his boot thrusters in an attempt to slow their fall. He and Barnes still went down in a heap, but they did so with minimal damage, so Tony counted it a win.

"You okay?" he asked, flipping up his visor. Beside him, Barnes shook out his non-metal shoulder and nodded.

"Thanks, Stark."

There was an alarming crashing and clanging from above, and a moment later, Steve dropped to the floor beside them.

"Bucky! Tony! You guys okay?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Slow your roll, Spangles. We're fine."

If Steve was going to be this overprotective of Bucky, it would make it harder for him to see the bigger picture. And with seven enhanced people in the heart of a Hydra base, they really needed their team leader to stay focused on the big picture and not his long-lost brother-in-arms.

But Tony didn't have time to say all of that, so he hoped Cap got the message.

"Eyes on Strucker!" Sam was still high in the silo. "He's heading down this corridor."

"I will not allow him to escape!" T'Challa was apparently on that one, so Tony decided to let the angry king have his shot. Especially clothed head-to-toe in Vibranium, it's not like he had to worry about bullets.

"One down, so many to go," Clint said. "Hey, Vision, buddy, can you do something about Velma over there?"

"I shall attempt to do so."

"Why did we have to name them after Scooby-Doo?" Rhodey wanted to know. "Also, why don't we have the Legion suits in here yet?"

"Because," Tony said, "This place is crap for maneuvering while everybody's playing in the missile silo. The Iron Legion would just get in your way or get torn to scrap metal. We need to move this fight someplace we can let them loose. Hulk, too."

"Maybe we can…" But Cap trailed off.

Tony looked up and saw Rumlow hunched over a computer station in the distant shadows, apparently attempting to go unnoticed.

Cap took off towards him at a dead run. And Barnes went after him. Rumlow spotted them coming and darted down a hallway.

Tony was about to leave them to it and turn back to the five Scooby Soldiers, but he spotted a flash of red. "JARVIS, scanner!"

"It is difficult to get an accurate read down here, but I believe that was the Maximoffs again."

"Closing in behind you, Cap!" Tony yelled into his comm. All he got was silence in return.

"Sir, there is interference down here from an unknown source, possibly some form of signal jammer. If you continue any deeper into the installation, it is possible you will lose contact with the Iron Legion and the rest of the Avengers as I believe Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have done."

"Great. Guys, I guess I'm going after the Old Man Duo down here. If I lose you, you'll need to work through a relay. Coordinate with JARVIS and the Iron Legion if you can't hear us."

"Tony," Nat said, "sure you'll be okay?"

"Not really. But I'm less sure Capsicle One and Two will be if I don't go after them." He let out a breath. "Nobody get shot. Got it?"

"Loud and clear, Stark," Sam said. "Look out for our idiots."

Tony started in the direction Steve and Bucky had gone. "JARVIS, keep a running update in my HUD on the signal viability, and as soon as it drops, bring down an Iron Legion suit to relay between us. Even if they cut off the comms, you should maintain a certain amount of connectivity."

"It's a working theory, sir."

"All my theories work, J."

"In fact, they do not. Turn left. I am able to track Captain Rogers by his comm in that direction."

Something that Tony was unfortunately used to by now was running around Hydra bases without a good idea of the layout. Those rats tended to hang out in mazes full of guns, so it was nothing particularly new to chase through dark corridors while watching for mounted defenses. But Tony didn't like this one. Eight years of combat had given him a middling sort of battle instinct — nothing anywhere close to Steve's or Nat's or Rhodey's — but it was screaming at him.

"Shit!" He gave up on running and took to flight again. "It's a trap. How did we forget that?"

He rounded another corner and came out in a bigger room where he could see Rumlow standing between the two Maximoff kids. Steve and Barnes were facing them, but nobody was fighting.

As soon as Tony entered the room, Pietro Maximoff disappeared long enough to do something because the door at Tony's back slammed shut with a very final-sounding crash.

"Sir, we have lost all connectivity via comms to the other Avengers," JARVIS said.

Tony snorted. "Yeah, I got that."

"Welcome, Stark. Now, where were we?" Rumlow asked. "Ah, yes."

And he said a string of words in Russian.

Barnes clapped both his hands to his head and gave a pain-filled cry.

Tony lifted his arm to fire, but he didn't get the shot off before the speedy Maximoff hit him from the side, sending his repulsor blast into some kind of holding tank instead.

"Stop it!" Steve launched his shield towards Rumlow, but Wanda caught it in a haze of red power that dropped the shield to the ground.

Rumlow said a few more things. By now, JARVIS was giving him a basic translation: daybreak, furnace, nine.

Barnes charged at Rumlow himself, but he got hit by the same silver bullet that had made Tony miss.

"JARVIS, I need some projectiles, now!"

He launched a fleet of targeting mini-missiles, but they all blew early when they got close to Wanda.

Rumlow ignored him and said something else, still in Russian. Benign.

"Bucky! What's going on?" Steve tried to get to Barnes, but Pietro threw him into a wall.

Barnes let out a sound that was rage and pain like a wounded animal and Tony flinched.

Rumlow just smiled. "Homecoming. One. Freight car."

"Bucky!"

But when Barnes stood up straight, Tony knew. He knew in a way that shivered all the way to the marrow of his bones.

And the Winter Soldier answered Rumlow in Russian. "Ready to comply."

"Cap," Tony said. "Cap, I think your buddy just changed sides on us."

"It's not his fault!" Steve yelled. "Bucky, listen to me!"

Rumlow actually made a little bow to Wanda Maximoff. "He's all yours."

"Soldier," Wanda said, and Tony did not like the look in her eyes. "Mission report."

Suddenly every screen in the room lit up with a grainy video feed. Tony meant to ignore it and focus on the actual threat, but something about it arrested his attention.

"I know that road. What is this?"

Tony watched, bile in his stomach churning, as Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, ran a car off the road with his motorcycle. The Soldier moved towards the driver and suddenly Tony felt something in him shatter.

That driver was Howard Stark.

"Help my wife. Please. Help."

The Soldier hoisted him up as if he weighed nothing. As if he meant nothing.

Dad finally realized who stood before him. "Sergeant Barnes?"

"Howard!"

Tony felt tears gather and fall as his mother cried out in pain and terror while the Winter Soldier killed his father with a single blow. He didn't know he had moved until he realized he was leaning on a table so he could stare at the video feed with his face mask up. The table was cracking beneath his gauntlets.

The Winter Soldier was strangling his mom. And Tony could only watch it happen.

When the video ended with a bullet in the camera, Tony felt as if he was on fire with grief. Grief and rage. His vision was washed out in red.

"Tell me, Soldier," Wanda said from somewhere very far away. "How did it feel to kill them?"

Barnes's answer in English was cutting and proud. "A noble sacrifice to Hydra."

"Would you kill them again if I ordered you to?"

"Gladly."

"Tony," Steve said, soft. And not surprised.

Tony spun, arm outstretched. "Did you know?"

"Tony, I didn't know it was him."

Tony's gaze went past Cap to where Barnes stood beside Hydra, that metal arm gleaming in the lights. Tony thought maybe he could still see the bloodstains.

"Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?"

"Yes."

Something else broke in Tony's chest. Maybe his ribs had caved in.

"Good," Wanda Maximoff said from where she stood. "That pain you feel, Stark? That is the pain you have given us. Now you know what it is to watch your parents die."

"Leave him alone!" Rogers yelled at her. "Why did you do that?"

"To make him hurt," Pietro said, shrugging, casual, as if the world wasn't ending. "His weapons killed our parents. And for days we were trapped with their bodies in the rubble alongside one of his bombs, waiting for it to kill us, too." He sneered. "If we can hurt him, we will."

"And now that he has felt our pain, he can die." Wanda pointed at Barnes. "Soldier. Kill him."

Barnes turned and raised a gun towards Tony, but Tony was fine with that. All he could see was that metal hand wrapped around his mother's throat.

"Tony, stop!" Rogers actually grabbed him in a bear hug. "It wasn't his fault. We have to break him out of Hydra's control and take down Rumlow and the Maximoffs!"

Tony looked at him. He didn't know or care what was on his face, but it made Rogers's eyes widen.

"He killed my mom," Tony managed, brokenly. "I don't care about Hydra."

And he fired a repulsor point blank into Rogers's side.

As soon as Rogers was out of his way, he charged at Barnes, who had a gun in each hand and was firing already. But the bullets didn't so much as dent the Mark 56, so Tony ignored them. His vision pulsed red with his rage, and he could barely even hear JARVIS saying something.

The only thing that mattered was making sure Barnes died screaming like Tony's mom.

Barnes met Tony's rush with a punch, but the suit overpowered him. Tony wrenched Barnes's arm down hard enough to hear the creak of metal fatigue in the prosthetic.

Then he got hit from the back, thrown away from Barnes and off balance. He turned to see Rogers with his shield once more, his face set in a stony expression.

Some distant part of Tony's brain registered that the repulsor blast must have been on the lowest possible setting for Rogers to still be moving around. Maybe JARVIS misfired. Or maybe JARVIS felt pity.

Tony didn't care either way.

"I'm not going to let you do this, Stark!" Rogers yelled. "He can't help it!"

"I don't care!" Tony threw Barnes to the side and rounded on Rogers, who caught his blow on the shield.

"He's my friend!"

"So was I!" Tony caught the shield — his father's shield — in his hands and ripped it from Rogers, tossing it across the room once more. "Now stay out of this! Don't make me kill you, too!"

A vague warning from JARVIS that only barely made it through his haze of fury made Tony spin in time to catch another blow from Barnes. The Winter Soldier tried to get his metal hand up to Tony's neck, possibly to crush the suit into his spine. Tony kicked out backwards and fired a boot thruster into his face.

On the plus side, that had the effect of satisfyingly sending the Winter Soldier airborne.

On the minus side, it left Tony with an unprotected back, and Rogers took advantage.

Tony felt his whole body lifted up and slammed down into a console that sparked all around him. Then a fist came into his face hard enough to smash one of the lenses of the helmet. Tony didn't need JARVIS's nattering in his ear to tell him that targeting and visuals were compromised.

He flipped up the mask in time to catch another inbound punch. This time he hit Rogers with both palm repulsors and felt dark satisfaction in watching the perfect American icon go shrieking into a mounted science station above one of those tubes. It looked like it hurt.

But that moment cost him.

A metal hand flashed in his peripheral vision and Tony couldn't even take a breath before Barnes had grabbed him by an ankle and lifted him, crashing him sideways into one of the room's support pillars. The armor around him groaned and popped, structural integrity failing all over the place. He tried to move and found that his legs wouldn't bend — that meant the suit was compromised and had locked up to keep from breaking his bones by bending the wrong way.

Through his red-soaked vision, he could see Barnes picking up his father's shield and carrying it to him with a blank, cold look on his face.

"You're a murderer!" Tony yelled, fighting to get the suit to engage. "Just one more kill in your book, huh? And with my father's invention!"

Barnes hoisted the shield high and slammed it down into the arc reactor on the Mark 56's chest. The reactor sparked horribly at the blow.

"Bucky!" Rogers was yelling from somewhere. "Stop!"

"Do it!" Tony yelled. "Kill me and kill your old buddy there and kill yourself while you're at it!"

The shield rose again and it dripped red light like blood.

Tony was going to die and he had never in his life hated anyone as much as he hated Barnes and Rogers right now.

"JARVIS," he spat, "Final Solution protocol. Make them burn."

The shield angled down.

"No!"

A weight landed on the suit, but soft and human. Tony saw the flash of big brown eyes and unruly curly hair, and a face pale with terror.

"Peter!"

The shield came down towards Peter's unprotected back.

Tony's heart shattered as the world was washed out in light.

-==OOO==-

Peter knew he shouldn't have followed them. Mister Stark had told him to stay put in the lab, that they would talk when he got back. But Peter was worried about apparently the king of Wakanda and Sergeant Barnes, so he'd snuck back upstairs to hear all about a Hydra base full of other Winter Soldiers and he just couldn't stay out of it.

Five Winter Soldiers and two more enhanced meant seven people as dangerous as Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, Vision, and Hulk. Seven people who could shatter bone with an easy blow, and that was before you also counted all the Hydra stuff. Everyone who wasn't enhanced was skilled and had good equipment, but they were all normal humans. They wouldn't be safe.

And Peter wasn't just a normal human anymore. He was Spider-Man.

He'd told Mister Stark that when the bad things happened, if he didn't do something about it, they were his fault. And the one bad thing he could not live with was the idea of Mister Stark or any of the other Avengers getting hurt when he could have protected them.

Peter was stronger than Captain Rogers or Vision or probably Sergeant Barnes. And he healed faster.

So he used the No-Seeing Eye and snuck aboard the Quinjet, hiding at the very far end of the lower compartment with the Iron Legion suits. Nobody ever looked down there, and with JARVIS unable to see him, he was just as invisible as usual. Once they landed, he waited until everybody got off and crept after them.

He'd stayed out of sight and out of the way, hanging back just in case. Even if JARVIS couldn't see him, that didn't mean five Winter Soldiers wouldn't, and he didn't want to distract the Avengers in a fight. But with his enhanced senses, he could follow them from two corridors back without too much trouble; Loki had done a little training with him on how to track someone without being able to see them, and even how to interpret the sounds he heard and the things he could smell to give him information, too.

But when Mister Stark and Sergeant Barnes fell all the way down that big tower, he got nervous, so he drew closer. And when they and Captain Rogers got locked in a room, Spider-Man decided he needed to do something about it.

Taking a trick from one of Mister Barton's stories, Spider-Man crawled to the nearest air duct and tore it open, giving him access to the room beyond.

And so he watched, horrified, as Mister Stark's parents were killed. It was like watching Uncle Ben dying in the snow all over again, and yet this hurt differently because he'd never once seen Mister Stark fall so completely apart.

He'd found himself crying only when his goggles got smudgy, so he ripped off his mask to see better. And when Mister Stark lashed out first at Captain Rogers and then at Sergeant Barnes who was clearly under some kind of mind control, Peter had been half a second from crying even harder.

But he stopped himself from being overcome because he had to.

Because there was a buzzing in his ears and a weird red light in the air, and Peter was pretty sure Mister Stark wasn't rational and it wasn't entirely his fault. So Peter scrubbed at his eyes and crept closer.

This was why he had come. He had to protect his family when they couldn't protect themselves.

Everyone was fighting so hard — except for the Hydra creeps; they were watching the show like a movie — they didn't notice him in the rafters of the big room.

Peter was trying to figure out how to stop the lady with the red magic because he thought that she must be the one making everything worse. But he knew if he missed her on his first strike, she might turn it on him. So he had to get it perfectly right.

He was poised to web her hands to her sides when he saw Sergeant Barnes bringing Captain Rogers's shield to hurt Mister Stark.

At first he thought Mister Stark would catch the shield and throw it away again. But when the blow hit and the arc reactor shattered, Peter realized that this was it.

Sergeant Barnes was going to kill Mister Stark.

Without thought, Peter dropped through the air like an eagle diving off a cliff. He put his body between Mister Stark and Sergeant Barnes and just held on.

"Peter!"

He heard the anguish in his padrino's voice, and he braced himself.

But he didn't feel the cutting edge of the shield on his spine. He felt a blast of energy all around him, and for a moment there was a riot of color too bright for him to handle.

Peter shut his eyes and buried his face against Mister Stark's chestplate.

"Peter!" Mister Stark's arms weren't quite moving, but his shoulders shifted like he was trying to grab Peter or sit himself up or something. "Peter, what...how...?"

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered. "I know it was a bad idea, but I couldn't let him kill you."

"And that," a familiar, haughty voice said from above him, "is why I took precautions."

The bright light faded and Peter blinked. He turned to look over his shoulder.

"Loki?"

Loki stood wearing his full battle armor complete with the horned helmet Peter had only seen in pictures from the Battle of New York. He also carried a wicked-looking spear. His voice was calm and controlled like always, but Peter could see green lightning flickering in his eyes.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, Spider-Man?"

Before Peter could answer, there was a blur of silver. Peter could only barely see it, and he didn't have time to yell a warning.

But Loki didn't appear to need it.

Quicker even than Peter's eyes could see, golden chains wrapped around the enhanced Hydra guy. They pulled him into the air where he dangled, wiggling.

"Let him go!" The Hydra lady lifted her hands and red light filled the air.

But Loki smirked.

"Ah, that is a worthy power indeed. Pity your magics cannot touch me through my wards." Then his smile went sharp and dangerous and even Peter felt a shiver go up his spine. "Nor can they harm what is mine."

Peter realized belatedly that Loki meant him.

Loki raised his hands and a golden light flashed through the room. The red hazy energy around the Hydra lady shrank, and everything else that had been tinged with red went back to normal.

"Now." Loki swept his gaze throughout the room, pausing in turn on the Hydra lady, the Hydra man beside her who looked royally ticked off, the enhanced Hydra guy, Captain Rogers who looked very confused, and finally landing on Sergeant Barnes.

Peter had kind of forgotten about him.

Sergeant Barnes had been absolutely crushed into something that looked like a human-sized test tube in a mad scientist's lair. The casing of the tube was actually bent around him.

"You tried to kill the Spider-Child. For that, I shall slay you where you stand." Loki's eyes returned to the Hydra agents. "And all of you who are equally responsible for it."

"Peter," Mister Stark said. Peter wrenched his gaze back to the man he was still basically lying on top of. "What the actual hell is going on? Why is Loki here?"

Peter swallowed. "I'm not sure."

"It's quite simple," Loki said.

(Peter decided that sometime later he'd tell him about not monologuing because it was a bad guy thing to do and Loki wasn't a bad guy anymore.)

"The boy is under my protection. I cast a spell that would shield him in the event of a blow which could kill him. It also drew me here to defend him." He glared at Sergeant Barnes.

"Wait." Peter scrambled up from Mister Stark. "Loki, it's not his fault. They...they mind-controlled him."

If anything, Loki's expression went harder and colder. "Is that so." It was definitely not a question.

He turned away from Sergeant Barnes and refocused on the Hydra agents.

"How did you sneak onto the Quinjet without JARVIS seeing?" Mister Stark asked Peter. "Get me up."

"Dude, your suit is wrecked," Peter found himself saying, avoiding the question. He leaned down and basically lifted Mister Stark to his feet, setting him upright.

"I noticed." Mister Stark hit a release and the Mark 56 tried to open. Peter helped, wrenching it where the metal plates were either bent or locked. But the suit had done its job — Mister Stark was probably bruised, but he wasn't crushed.

"You may leave these three to me," Loki said, the gold of his armor shining unnaturally. "I will have revenge for what they have done this day."

There was a crash as Captain Rogers pushed something heavy off him and got to his feet. But his attention was all on Mister Stark.

"Tony…"

"Not now, Rogers." Mister Stark still sounded really mad.

But Peter asked, "What about Sergeant Barnes?"

"You will not escape!" That was the Hydra lady, red energy writhing around her like a fire snake. "If anyone is having revenge, it is us!"

"Look." Mister Stark was moving backwards away from her, and his hand was like iron on Peter's shoulder, pulling him along. "Your brother there said I killed your parents. So I'm sorry. I put you through hell. There's no excuse for that."

"Then we will shed your blood and call it even," the Hydra guy still chained by Loki said.

"Hmm." Loki's face was doing that thing that usually meant he was about to play a trick. "As a villain myself, this is a familiar refrain."

Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Mister Stark squeezed his shoulder even harder and he fell silent.

"Allow me to suggest a bargain." Loki's helmet vanished in a golden haze. "I will cast a spell which prevents a mortal from speaking falsehood. You, witch, will ask your questions. If you are satisfied with the answers, I shall let you do as you wish."

Peter gasped. "Loki!"

"Silence, child." Loki's voice never sounded like that. It made Peter's chest hurt.

"Why would you do this?" the Hydra lady asked.

"Call it a gift, from one villain to another."

Peter felt a chill trickle down his spine.

"Now." Loki gestured for Mister Stark to move.

But something was wrong.

Suddenly Sergeant Barnes broke free from where he had been confined, and for a few moments there was a flurry of activity while everybody ran around. Captain Rogers and Mister Stark were trying to do something about Sergeant Barnes and the two Hydra agents took the chance to try to free the third one from chains. Loki simply watched. It wasn't like even the Hydra lady's red magic was getting through Loki's.

"Allow me," Loki said finally. He moved over to where Sergeant Barnes was struggling against Captain Rogers and knocked him out with a single blow.

"Now." Loki turned back. "Let us conclude our business. I will not get in the way of justified vengeance. But I would like to hear it confirmed. Stark, if you would."

"Would rather not, thanks."

Loki smirked and, with the speed of a comet, grabbed Mister Stark by the arm and dragged him in front of the Hydra lady.

"Now, the truth spell." He waved his hands and a green light circled them both. "Tell me your name is Steven Rogers."

"I...I…"

"He will be unable to tell a lie, and unable to fail to answer a direct question truthfully."

The Hydra lady lifted her chin. "Are you responsible for the deaths of our parents?"

"Yes."

Anguish filled her features. "Why?"

"It was necessary to maintain control over the Sokovian government. We could not allow the democratic rebels to succeed. I gave the order to supply munitions we had stolen from SHIELD to our allies in the government."

Peter blinked.

The Hydra lady blinked, too. "...What?"

"Oh." Loki grinned. "Did I not mention?" He waved his hands. "This is not Stark."

And the illusion crumbled.

The other Hydra agent stood there, his face slack.

Meanwhile, the real Mister Stark shimmered back into view beside Peter.

"Nice trick, reindeer games."

Loki gave him a little bow.

"This is a lie!" the Hydra lady yelled. "You tricked me!"

"No, and also yes," Loki said. "I did trick you, but what he has said is truth. Ask him anything you wish. But it seems perhaps your desire for revenge is a mis-aimed arrow. I should prefer it strike the correct target."

"Hey!" The Hydra agent still dangling in chains was glaring at his Hydra buddy. "Is Hydra the reason Sokovia has never been free?"

"Of course. The fall of the Iron Curtain was a great setback. Sokovia was a stronghold we would not surrender. We needed a country where we could operate freely."

"You sent the bombs." The Hydra lady's voice was shaking. "You bombed our home."

"Yes."

"We trusted you!" That red magic power burst from her again. "We put ourselves into your hands!"

The evil Hydra guy's face was still blank. "I would have bombed a hundred apartment blocks if I had known it would bring you to us so easily."

"Hey, Rumlow!" Captain Rogers yelled. "What is Hydra's ultimate goal?"

"To gain unquestioned control over the world and instill order and unity. All resistance or deviation from our perfect society will be destroyed."

"Wanda." Mister Stark's tone was suddenly soft. "You and your brother...you don't deserve what happened to you. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry it was my bombs that hurt you. I can't change that. But Hydra? Are they who deserves your loyalty after killing your parents?"

"You're on the wrong side," Captain Rogers said. "Hydra would sacrifice both of you in a heartbeat, both of you or a million civilians, just to get what they want. That's not who you are."

"You know nothing about us!"

"Yes, Pietro, we do." That was Mister Stark. He patted Peter on the shoulder and then took a step closer to the guy in chains. "Because a second ago, your sister had me literally seeing red. I wanted to kill Barnes for what he did to my parents. I am exactly like you."

"But it wasn't Bucky's fault," Captain Rogers said. "Hydra did that, too. Didn't you, Rumlow?"

"Yes."

Peter could see a crestfallen look in the Hydra lady's — in Wanda's eyes. And he suddenly found himself stepping forward.

"Have you ever seen The Princess Bride?"

Literally everyone in the room looked surprised. Peter decided to talk fast in case Mister Stark tried to stop him again.

"This guy, Inigo, he spends his whole life trying to hunt down the man who killed his father. He would do anything for it. And when it's over, he says that he doesn't know what to do anymore. It takes his friend Wesley to give him something new to live for."

Everybody was still staring at him.

Peter shrugged. "You just...you were hunting the wrong person. And it's like if Inigo had been working for the evil count the whole time. So I'm sure it's a lot to deal with, but now you can find something new to live for. Since, no offense, but Hydra is the worst."

Loki chuckled. "The Spider-Child has, perhaps ineloquently, made an excellent point. I believe it has been clearly established that this man and not Stark is the true target of your revenge. And I will certainly not cheat you of it. But when that is over, you must make a choice. To continue to walk upon the path of this man and his evils, or choose another."

Peter could read the warning there, too. Loki wasn't feeling nearly as friendly as he was pretending to be. He was probably a half-second from being ready to kill them all over again if they chose wrong.

He really hoped they didn't.

Wanda started shooting questions at the Hydra guy in another language, her voice shaking harder with each one. It felt like it took hours, and with every new answer, the tension in the room rose. It made a constant cold chill settle in the base of Peter's spine.

Finally Wanda fell quiet and her magic winked out entirely. After a moment, Pietro suddenly said something in the same foreign language. Wanda's face was pale, but she answered him.

All at once, Peter's feeling of that icy chill vanished.

"An excellent choice." Loki waved a hand and the golden chains fell from Pietro, dropping him back to the ground. "Peter, if you would please."

Suddenly Loki was beside him, and he was guiding him towards where Captain Rogers still had an armful of Sergeant Barnes, though he was holding still.

Peter scrunched his nose. "You don't want me to see what they're doing over there, do you?"

"In fact, I do not. But I believe your version of diplomacy might be useful here as well."

"Loki." Captain Rogers looked like he wasn't sure if he should be worried or happy. "I have a lot of questions for you right now."

"I care not. But as one whose mind has been controlled, I have some sympathy for another with the same problem."

Peter looked at Sergeant Barnes, who, he realized, was awake, breathing heavily, and shaking, his eyes closed. "Sergeant Barnes?" he asked. "Are you...you again?"

"Yeah." He opened his eyes. "Kid, I'm sorry."

"You should be." Loki's voice had more than a little icy rage in it. "If not for the magic I had woven into the boy's pendant, he would be dead now, and you shortly thereafter."

Peter could tell Captain Rogers was winding up to argue, so he interrupted. "Sergeant, it was something that Hydra guy said, right? Like a spell?"

"A trigger series." He swallowed. "Specific words programmed deep in my head."

"Hmm." Loki shook his head. "That will not do. I cannot allow you near Peter if you can lose your mind to anyone who knows a few special words."

"Can you help him?" Captain Rogers asked. And Peter was surprised, but maybe not really, to see the honest plea in his face. Captain Rogers didn't beg anybody for anything, but he was awfully close to it right now.

"Perhaps. I can at least make the attempt."

"Loki." Peter looked up at him. "Thank you. For saving me." He knew he was red in the face. "I'm sorry if I caused you trouble."

"It is of no concern," Loki said. "I would hate to see my efforts wasted before you have even achieved your full potential."

But Peter heard something else in those words and smiled.

"Hey." Sergeant Barnes got his feet fully under him and broke away from Captain Rogers's hold, at least as far as he'd let him go. "Is Stark okay with those two?"

Peter turned to look behind him, but there was just a big blank area, like a camera out of focus so bad it was just a big smear. He frowned at Loki.

Loki shrugged. "Believe me, child, for this, those two warriors deserve privacy. And Stark will not be harmed."

"But what happens...after?" Peter asked.

He would think about the fact that somebody was getting killed right behind him later. If he thought about it now, he didn't think he would be able to help anyone.

And then Loki laid a hand on his shoulder and he went fuzzy for a second. When it was over, he was pretty sure he'd missed something, but figured it probably wasn't very important.

"Well." That was Mister Stark's voice. Suddenly he and the two not-Hydra-agents-anymore appeared out of Loki's illusion, grim-faced. "I think we should probably make sure everybody else mopped up the five Winter Soldiers and Strucker out there. Then, maybe dinner?"

Wanda and Pietro looked acutely uncomfortable. Peter reached out a hand.

"Hi. I'm Peter. Thanks for not...I mean, I'm glad you didn't...anyway." He coughed. "Want to come help the Avengers stop more bad guys?"

Wanda took his hand gently. "You are a strange child."

"You have no idea," Loki and Mister Stark said at the same time.

"Come on, Avengers, Maximoffs, and Spider-Man who should definitely not be here," Captain Rogers said. "Job's not done."

They emerged from the sealed room into a different kind of chaos.

Chapter Text

"I should have retired," Clint grumbled.

"Why didn't you?" Nat asked, lining her shoulder-blades up with his and firing, a familiar pulse against his back.

"Dunno. Farm life's looking pretty good right now."

"We'll get you back to Kansas as soon as we're done here, Dorothy."

Clint huffed a laugh, knowing she would feel it — but, more importantly, she would understand it.

They were in bad shape.

The Hulk had come crashing in a few minutes ago, but he made as much mess as he helped. Eventually they'd gotten two of the Iron Legion drones to lead him away and give him a new target just so he stopped knocking down parts of the ceiling and other levels above their heads.

They couldn't blame the guy for showing up, but this was just not a good fight for him.

Vision had actually stopped fighting and was mostly using his flight and his Mind Stone lasers (or whatever he'd decided to call them; Clint was going with 'lasers' until somebody had a better name) to shore up the structural damage they'd caused thus far. One collapse had driven them out of the missile silo already, and nobody wanted to be under another one.

T'Challa had apparently finished with Strucker, which led to Clint saying "Yay" over comms and he was sure if Cap had heard he'd get a lecture, but he didn't, so who cared? Even with the Iron Legion down here, they hadn't been able to reach Cap, Tony, or Barnes since they wandered off. Normally, by now they'd have sent somebody after them, but they were occupied.

T'Challa had switched to offense, given that he was the last enhanced guy they had down here, and was wearing a Vibranium suit, so that made him ideal for going hand-to-hand with the Winter Soldiers alongside what remained of the Iron Legion. There were still four Soldiers, and that was definitely four too many. So Nat and Clint had taken up sentry positions trying to drive them back with continuous fire without getting hit at the same time.

It would be different if they could move, but they couldn't.

"We're running out of time!" Sam yelled.

Clint didn't look because he couldn't. He was already going to have nightmares from when it happened.

Rhodey was down.

One of the Winter Soldiers had jumped onto the Iron Patriot suit while Rhodey was giving cover, and had jammed a knife into his back. Normally, Rhodey should have shaken off an attack like that — Clint had seen Tony's armors take hits like that a hundred times without issue.

But there had always been rumors about a black market weapons trade that Hydra helped facilitate, and apparently they had gotten their hands on some pretty unusual stuff. Clint privately thought it might even have been something smelted with a little Vibranium.

Whatever it was, it had punched through the armor and Rhodey had just...stopped.

When he'd fallen out of the air with that knife buried up to its hilt in his back, Clint had been sure he was dead. Everyone else had been sure, too.

But two Iron Legion suits had broadcasted JARVIS's voice.

"Colonel Rhodes is alive, but badly injured. He requires immediate medical attention."

Then, two of Iron Legion suits had wrapped themselves around the Winter Solider who hurt Rhodey and self-detonated. It took out even more of the unstable ceiling, but nobody was going to blame JARVIS for doing it.

"Remind me not to get on JARVIS's bad side," Clint had said to himself.

But then, Rhodey was Tony's oldest and closest friend. If he were the AI dedicated to taking care of Tony and all the rest of them, he might have taken it kind of badly, too.

The whole team, in fact, took it badly. That's when the Hulk showed up, green and furious. Even trying to keep things light on comms didn't take out the quiet fury (or not so quiet fury) that radiated off the team. One of their own was hurt, and these bastards who put him there were going to pay.

Sam had stepped out of the fight to do what he could to help Rhodey. He didn't tell anyone anything even when asked directly, but he made it clear that they needed to get him to a trauma team as fast as they could. At this point, Clint was about ready to just pile everybody in the Quinjet and let the Hulk take this place down around Hydra's ears.

But nobody was going anywhere until Tony and Cap and Barnes got back. So they were trapped in this constant standoff and Clint was getting very tired of it.

Suddenly there was a crackle of the comm in his ear.

"...no idea how we're going to explain this but…"

"Cap?" Sam asked. "Can you hear us?"

"Hey, what'd we miss?" That was Tony, and though he was trying to sound flippant, Clint knew better.

"We have a medical emergency," Sam said. "Rhodey's down and he's going to bleed out if we don't get him out of here now."

Tony started rapid-firing questions at JARVIS, which made Clint stiffen. Normally the discussions between Tony and his AI were muted to everybody else due to being contained inside the Iron Man armor where JARVIS filtered the lines of communication.

If JARVIS wasn't doing that, it meant Tony wasn't in the armor anymore.

Whatever Clint expected to see come around a corner, it wasn't Steve running with his shield out followed by Barnes, both of the Maximoffs, and Peter Parker in his Spider-Man pajamas. After that was Tony, and then, of all people not to expect, Loki.

"What the actual hell?" he asked.

"Long story," Cap said, placing himself close to Nat and Clint so he could use his shield to give them more cover. "The twins are gonna help us."

"So am I," Peter said.

"No, you are definitely not." Tony dropped to his knees beside Sam and Rhodey; he reached out and snagged his kid by an elbow, dragging him down as well. "You're staying where I can keep an eye on you before you get full of bullet holes."

"But I can help!"

"For once, child," Loki said, "I agree with Stark. This battle is not for you. However, I will fight in your stead if you wish."

Clint spared a glance to see Tony give Loki a solemn nod. "Thank you."

"I assume you do not mind if these enemies are killed?"

Sam's voice was low and furious. "For this? Take them apart."

Loki disappeared from where he stood.

The Maximoff twins were standing nearby as well, also looking lost. Wanda was staring at her hands, and at where a small pool of blood was visible under Rhodey's armor.

"Go on," Nat whispered to Clint, giving him a shove with an elbow.

"When did I get voted team morale officer?" he asked.

"Because they're kids."

All at once, he realized for the first time that they were. Yeah, the SHIELD info said they were actually in their mid-twenties, but it wasn't about their age. Wanda and Pietro looked like green recruits on their first real mission. They'd fought the Avengers before, and they'd been part of planting a bomb, but this was different now for some reason. And clearly whatever had happened in that other room had shaken something loose.

They looked lost, all their fire and certainty ripped out from under their feet.

Honestly, it reminded Clint of something he'd seen in Nat once long ago. The face of someone who has realized for the first time that they've made a wrong choice, but they're afraid to make a right one.

Suddenly one of the Winter Soldiers popped up and fired right towards their group. Cap jumped to catch the bullets on his shield and Tony threw his body over Peter's, both of them covering where half of the Iron Patriot armor had retracted to give Sam access to Rhodey.

"Go!" Nat said again.

"If I get brainwashed by anybody today, I'm going to kick your ass this time."

She barked out a laugh. "Good luck with that."

Clint sighed and ducked and dodged his way to the knot of them. Without thinking about it too hard, he grabbed onto Wanda Maximoff's sleeve and tugged her back around some better cover, knowing her brother would follow.

"This is all our fault," Wanda said.

Clint took a deep breath.

"Hey, look at me. It's your fault, it's Hydra's fault, who cares? We have bigger problems than you right now, and trust me, that's saying something. Are you up for this? Look, I just need to know what you're going to do now, cause we're fighting a bunch of brainwashed enhanced guys and I have a bow and arrow. None of this makes sense."

He ignored how Pietro snorted in agreement.

"But I'm going back out there because it's my job. And right now you have a choice. It doesn't matter what you did, or what you were. If you want to go out there, you fight, and you help us. Stay over here, you just chill. We'll come find you when we're done and give you a ride. But if you step out into that fight, you become an Avenger."

Pietro took Wanda's hand. "We have these powers. We should use them for good for once."

She nodded. But she looked sideways at Clint.

"Why would you call us Avengers? Until now, we have been your enemies."

"Honestly?" Clint gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "Because when you ran out here, you two had that kid between you. And if you're willing to protect him, and if Tony and Cap and Loki are willing to let you, then that tells me all I need to know."

Pietro actually smirked. "I would not have expected the Avengers to be so soft, old man." He gathered his sister into his arms. "Let us fight."

"Old man?" Clint objected.

"Try to keep up." And Pietro was gone.

"Don't make me shoot you in the butt, kid," Clint grumbled. But he returned to his spot close to Nat and ignored her cheerful wink.

"Nat." Cap made his way to them. "Do you know where Hulk is?"

"I think so."

He nodded. "You and Vision go get him. See if you can get Bruce back. As soon as we finish here, we need to move. We won't have time to chase him down later."

Clint elbowed her. "You get all the fun jobs."

Vision dropped to join them. "I can lead you to him through my interface with JARVIS. Shall we?"

Nat slung an arm around his neck and let Vision carry her into the air and down one of the dark corridors.

"Black Panther? How's it going?" Cap asked.

"Better with the new additions to the battle," he said. "How is Rhodes?"

"Not good," Sam answered.

Suddenly one of the Winter Soldiers burst from concealment above and dropped down almost on top of Tony, Sam, and Peter. Sam's hands were in the Iron Patriot suit holding Rhodey together, and Tony wasn't in a suit anymore.

Before Clint could even notch an arrow, Peter was on his feet and had picked up the guy and thrown him into a wall. Then he started shooting his Spider-Man webbing at him.

"It's not going to hold!" Peter yelled. "It didn't hold Mister Black Panther either!"

He charged ahead, following up the webbing with a kick. Clint could see the skill in the hit, and yet he could tell from here that Peter was holding back. That he wasn't using what strength he apparently had at all effectively.

So when the Winter Soldier blocked the kick and returned it with a punch that sent Peter reeling, he wasn't surprised. Even if he was infuriated.

But someone else was faster.

Bucky Barnes appeared out of nowhere and slammed his metal arm into the Winter Soldier's face with enough force to stop a train.

"Stay away from the kid," Barnes growled.

"Peter," Tony called. "I've got an idea. Come here."

And Clint breathed a tiny bit of relief, knowing Peter would be distracted so he wouldn't have to see what Barnes planned for the Winter Soldier. Especially with Cap and his sharp-edged shield on his way to back him up.

Peter was maybe ready to be a neighborhood hero; he was not, would maybe never be ready to see someone killed in battle.

For a few minutes, Clint focused only on shooting his arrows, covering the makeshift medical team behind him, and not hitting anyone but evil Hydra enhanced guys. When, finally, Loki, T'Challa, and the Maximoff twins returned to the others, Pietro with a few bullet grazes and Loki looking inordinately pleased, he eased up his watchfulness.

"It is over," T'Challa said. "They are all dead. And Strucker, who killed my father."

The twins looked at one another.

"T'Challa." Steve stepped up to stand beside the twins facing him. "We were wrong. Wanda and Pietro were being used by Hydra just as they tried to use Bucky against us."

Well, that was a lie and a half as far as Clint could tell, but he wondered if T'Challa could.

T'Challa regarded them for a moment, then nodded. "I trust you have killed the one responsible for their involvement?"

"Yes," Wanda said. "And for our part, we…" She held out a hand. "We have made so many mistakes."

"I can't believe we were helping those bastards who were keeping Sokovia under their thumb," Pietro said.

Well, Clint could have told them that. Who didn't know that Hydra was all about the evil, oppressive regimes? Oh, wait. People who live under evil, oppressive regimes don't get taught history. He'd have to get them some books.

T'Challa accepted her hand. "Then you must learn to discern enemy from friend better. In that, I believe the Avengers may be able to help you. But between us, let there be peace."

"Yeah, great and everything," Sam said, "but now that the shooting is over, we need to get Rhodey to a hospital right the hell now."

"What about Nat and Bruce and Vision?" Cap asked.

"We're on our way out," came Nat's answer over the comms. "We'll meet you at the Quinjet."

Sam took charge. "All right. Super people? I need your muscles to carry him on something flat. Rip up a table or something."

Peter darted over to a nearby bulkhead and pulled the flat sheet metal off the wall as if he were tearing wrapping paper. He straightened it with his hands and ran back. "Will this work okay?"

"Lordy, kid," Tony said. "We have got to test those abilities of yours."

Sam and Steve carefully moved Rhodey onto the metal sheet, and Sam supervised while Steve and Barnes lifted him, jogging as smoothly as they could towards the exit.

"I believe I shall take my leave," Loki said then.

"Wait." Peter made an abortive grab for him, as if he wanted to hold on and suddenly thought it was weird or rude. "Can you...not? Um. Just...for a while?"

Loki sighed and looked annoyed even as he nodded, and Clint would eat his bow if that wasn't almost entirely a front.

"Okay, people. People and Loki." Tony put a hand on Peter's arm and started to move. "We've got to go. All aboard the Avengers Express."

Clint was sure this was going to be a long and awkward ride.

He was not wrong.

-==OOO==-

The next six hours were an awful whirlwind. Steve had rarely felt that the world was so heavy.

Having Bucky beside him was the greatest comfort he could have asked for, and even though Bucky was shaken and withdrawn — and he didn't blame him at all given what happened in Siberia — he was still there. Bucky was Steve's anchor as he'd been since they were children in a different New York. So even though Bucky wasn't himself, whoever that was these days, he was here. And it helped.

On the other side, Tony was a legitimate wreck. If not for Peter's presence, Steve was sure he would have procured a truly ridiculous amount of alcohol just to deal. But Peter was here, and so Tony couldn't sink down into that dark place Steve could see tearing at the edges of his soul.

Unfortunately the other person besides Peter who could have pulled Tony out of it was down for the count.

They'd flown from Siberia to Germany where a trauma team was waiting, Bruce assisting Sam as much as he could with the tech in the Quinjet to keep Rhodey with them. Once they got Rhodey into surgery, it took less time than it had to fly there for them to patch him up well enough to travel again.

"You need more than this hospital can provide," the lead doctor had said. "The wound is to his spinal column. We can stop the bleeding, but we are not equipped for this level of trauma. And five of the top spinal and neurological doctors on the planet are in New York. We will make it possible for him to reach them in time."

"Shouldn't we wait?" Clint had asked. "Give him a chance to recover before we transport him again?"

"Neurological injuries are difficult, and time is of the essence. The sooner he gets into expert hands, the greatest chance they will have at restoring any function."

That statement had met a lot of shocked silence.

So as soon as the German hospital could prep Rhodey for transit, they were all aboard the Quinjet once more, heading to New York. All except T'Challa, who took his leave in Germany.

"I will see you again, and soon," he said. "But for now, I feel I should rejoin my family in our time of mourning, and leave you to your own."

Even without him, the Quinjet still felt small and close. It was the big one with different compartments, but Sam and Bruce and the pair of after care nurses who had agreed to fly with them to New York had taken over the bunks area for Rhodey. Clint and Nat were piloting up front, and Vision had opted to sit in the forward seating area with the Maximoff twins who still looked so very lost.

"It is a state of being with which I am quite familiar," Vision had said.

Which left Steve, Tony, Bucky, Peter, and Loki alone in the aft area.

"I can't believe you snuck after us!" Tony finally exploded at Peter. Steve had known it was coming, and so had Peter apparently, because he flinched but kept his eyes trained on the floor.

Peter just shrugged. "I heard you planning. There were a lot of those enhanced bad guys, and I could help."

"It was rather foolhardy," Loki added, leaning casually to one side.

But that only redirected Tony's attention. "And you! How did you know about all this?" Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Not that I'm not grateful you did whatever magical stuff to show up in the clichéd nick of time, but still."

"It is no fault of yours that you could not perceive what was so clear to me," Loki said. "Peter was adamant about not making you aware of his abilities until Spider-Man had proven himself to your satisfaction. So I maintained his illusion for him and offered to give him some little aid when needed."

"JARVIS did say that Spider-Man had been improving rapidly in skill over the last few months," Tony said, looking sideways at Peter. "You seriously went to Loki to be your Yoda before me?"

Peter blushed. "I just...I wanted…"

Tony let out a mighty sigh. "I know, kiddo." He leaned over and ruffled Peter's hair. "I don't want to have that argument again. Just...you can't do things like this. Like follow us on an Avengers mission. You just can't, Peter."

Peter stuck his chin out. "You needed me. It's a good thing I was there, or…" But he trailed off, looking guiltily at Bucky.

"It is indeed fortunate," Loki said. "Without his interference, and therefore mine, I do not believe you would have escaped without an injury at least as dire as that taken by your shield-brother, Stark. And you may not have walked away as allies, either."

"Not the point." Tony glared at Loki. "I can't...Peter, I can't have you going up against Hydra or Winter Soldiers. I just…" He pulled the kid tight to his side. "I'm only barely not freaking out about you chasing muggers here. Please don't add supervillains to your list."

But Peter looked up at him and there was something in his eyes that Steve recognized. It was a look he'd seen before. Not just on Peter; on every single one of his teammates, including the ones from before he went into the ice. That certainty. That dedication. That fearlessness.

"If people need my help, that's where I need to be. Especially when it's my family."

Steve couldn't help but smile, even as it made a part of him ache, too. Because he knew where that path led, and the scars it would leave.

"Kid takes after you, Stark," Bucky said, speaking up for the first time with the ghost of a smile on his face.

"Oh, no." Stark shook his head. "Trust me. This one came that way." He sniffed. "Look, Barnes."

But Bucky looked up and shook his head.

"I'm sorry." Bucky clasped his hands in front of him. "Stark...Tony. I'm sorry."

"Do you even remember them?" Tony asked, soft and sad. And if there was an edge of rage leftover, Steve didn't have the right to blame him for it right now.

"I remember all of them."

Steve put a hand on Bucky's shoulder.

Tony nodded. "It's not...it's never going to be okay. But I think…"

He glanced at Peter. Tony avoided Steve's eyes, but he did hold Bucky's. Steve would have to accept that for now. When Tony spoke, his voice was rough.

"I think I can be mad at Hydra and not you. Going to take me a while. But that's...I can work on that."

"It's more than I deserve," Bucky said.

"No." That was Peter, face set. "It's not your fault, Sergeant Barnes. Hydra did that. Just like you didn't want to hurt Mister Stark when that guy said the words. You wouldn't have done that."

"If you did," Loki said, light and dangerous, "I promise you wouldn't live to regret it."

"Loki, you can't kill people who hurt me," Peter objected.

"Actually, I can." Loki smirked. "Midgard is still under the dominion of Asgard, and our claim over this realm and its people is recognized by all intergalactic ruling bodies. I have every right, by any definition, to do as I please here as regent of Asgard."

"I bet the UN would love hearing that argument," Tony grumbled.

"Ah yes. Your tedious council of squabbling elders that pretends to wield power here." Loki raised an eyebrow. "It is a terrible system, is it not?"

"Hey." Steve felt the need to defend them. "They don't rule the world. It's an international body for cooperation and coordination. All the different countries are still sovereign to themselves."

"Tiresome." Loki let out a sigh of his own. "Dealing with them will be most unpleasant. Fortunately, such will fall to Father and not I."

"Wait, roll that back," Tony said. "What do you mean, Odin's going to deal with them?"

"Oh, was it not obvious?" Loki's face went fat like a happy cat. "Odin and I have a solution for your petty politicians and their dramatic lack of foresight, along with a proposal which shall strengthen Asgard's position overall."

Steve blinked.

But Peter looked up eagerly. "You know how to make the UN okay with the Avengers without all the unhelpful stuff?"

"Indeed."

"Well," Steve found himself saying. "If you've got a better option than what we have, I'd be open to hearing it."

"Put simply, you already have provisions in your laws for what you call overseas military bases — outposts of soldiers providing a protective force on foreign soil who are bound to the laws of that kingdom but which ultimately are beholden to their native land. The Avengers should be considered one such force."

"That doesn't really solve our problem, Mister International Relations," Tony said. "Even putting aside that we're all American citizens except Thor, moving us to somebody else's backyard just changes who would have jurisdiction over us."

"Not," Loki said, "if you were considered to be an Asgardian force placed in defense of Midgard."

"Um," Peter said, "except for you and Thor, nobody is Asgardian. So how would that even work?"

"In point of fact," Loki's smile went even wider. "You are incorrect about that. You, Peter Starkson, are also Asgardian."

"I'm what?"

"He's what?"

Tony and Peter's shocked faces were identical and Steve and Bucky snorted in unison.

"From the instant you lifted Mjolnir without the assistance of the Mind Stone, you have been considered a citizen of Asgard. And such would be true even if the All-Father himself did not see you so fondly as to allow you to call him 'grandfather.'"

Loki was clearly enjoying himself, and Steve was just glad somebody was having a good time. If nothing else, it was distracting Tony from Rhodey's injuries. Tony's face was moving without sound coming out.

"It is an elegant solution to the political games your enemies wish to play," Loki said, deliberately switching topics — probably to be annoying. "If the Avengers swear fealty to Asgard and relinquish their citizenship of Midgard, then your entire party of warriors is no longer subject to any one nation's laws any more than they apply to Thor or myself. Asgard and your UN will make an agreement which other nations may abide by or not to define our mutual responsibilities and liabilities. But if danger comes, and it will, then you will act as Asgard asks regardless of your petty politics."

"And," Peter said, his voice a little thin with surprise, "the world...it would be like if US soldiers on a base in Korea got in trouble. The soldiers get punished according to the agreement, but they could always relocate or go home. The Avengers…"

"Asgard would pay reparations for any acts which were later found in violation of our agreement," Loki said, "but the responsibility would fall upon the throne of Asgard, not yourselves. And your world would not dare cast you or Asgard out entirely now knowing there are thousands of worlds that would pounce should Asgard remove her claim of sovereignty."

Bucky looked at Steve and Steve shrugged.

"I don't know enough about the politics to know…" he said.

"It could work." Tony's eyes were staring into the middle distance. "It'd be a hell of an agreement, but if we got it...it would put us outside the sphere of any one nation's control, which solves the problem with Ross or NATO. It would let us move when we need to move, which solves the problem of the UN bureaucracy. And if we made a huge mistake, Asgard would get the blowback, not us."

"On the other hand," Steve said, thinking fast, "we'd have to be careful about that whole Asgardian sovereignty thing you mentioned. In my experience, people don't like being under the thumb of someone they didn't choose for themselves."

Peter sighed. "Yay colonialism."

Loki shrugged. "I assure you, our agreement would be carefully worded so as not to insult the pride of your rulers. Though if they do not accept the fact of their place in the universe, perhaps they should not rule you. That Midgard is an Asgardian protectorate is a fact whether your planet knew it or not."

"People aren't always rational," Bucky said softly. "Especially when they're scared of a threat they can't fight on their own."

"Indeed. And if they were so irrational as to threaten to punish you or any such nonsense for saving the citizens of the realm, well, they would not make such a threat for long." Loki smirked.

"Yeah, but the thing is," Tony looked up at him, "it can't be you making that agreement. Everybody else still sees you as the bad guy in the Battle of New York."

"I am aware." Loki nodded. "And that is why Odin and I have agreed that he must resume his post as king for a time to ensure this is done honestly." He scowled at that. "I could feign his appearance, of course, but such oaths are binding and it is in poor taste to lie when making them."

"But." Peter rubbed his nose. "Couldn't you make it, like, a condition of the agreement that every nation that signs onto the agreement and the UN forgive you for that stuff? Maybe you and Sergeant Barnes, since he's kind of in the same boat?"

"You," Loki said, jabbing a finger towards Peter, "are more Odin's grandchild than you know. Yes, he has already said as much to me as well. Asgard would offer reparations for my shameful deeds, and insist that no further action be taken against me upon this realm. Such could be extended to others as needed."

"Why would you even do this?" Steve asked, smelling the undercurrent of a plot somewhere. "What does Asgard have to gain from any of this?"

"Two things, captain. First, Midgard is the resting place of one Infinity Stone, and has been home to two more, however temporarily. For that, it must be more closely guarded by Asgard or risk falling victim to an attack by those who seek them."

Loki's eyes flicked to Peter, then back to Steve.

"Second, my brother is fond of this realm and of all of you. The Spider-Child resides here and values your lives highly. That is two princes of Asgard with reason to protect this realm. If you cannot trust in the altruism of Asgard, then trust in the self-interest of Odin and myself. For should any harm come to those under Thor's protection, we shall not hear the end of it for eons."

"And you like Peter," Steve said before he could stop himself.

Loki scowled at him. But he didn't deny it, either.

Peter's eyes went wide like saucers. "Wow, Loki. After helping me so much with Spider-Man and now this. I don't...how do I make it up to you even?"

"You don't, child." Loki looked like he would rather have any other conversation. "Now, before we bespeak your United Nations, Odin and I shall draft a preliminary agreement. Stark, I will accept your counsel upon it as one who knows these matters and the players better than I. Thor will bring you a copy."

"Uh, Thor's not going to do the negotiating, right?" Tony asked. "Because, no offense but he's…"

"Useless. As subtle as his hammer. Utterly unsuited to the games of politics." Loki waved it aside. "Believe me, mortal, I am aware."

"Excuse me, gentlemen." JARVIS's voice came from above. "But I have a message from Miss Romanoff. She has been listening to Prince Loki's proposal regarding the United Nations. She has some specific ideas of what she calls 'levers to pull,' by which I interpret her to mean individuals who can be swayed by non-traditional means should Loki wish to have the information."

Loki smiled. "I believe I could make good use of such insight, indeed. Please convey my appreciation to the Lady Widow."

"Spoken like a true politician," Bucky said, gently teasing.

But Peter was looking at him. "Is that why you helped Wanda and Pietro by talking them into not hurting Mister Stark instead of just...you know?"

Loki gave a tiny shrug. "You will learn someday that for all your strength and power, sometimes the victory comes not by the sword, but by words and cleverness. If you can forge an ally from an enemy, then no blood needs to be shed."

"Or you can make an enemy of an ally," Steve said.

"Precisely."

"It's a good lesson," Tony said. He stood up, patting Peter on the shoulder as he went. "I'm going to check on Rhodey. Back in a minute." And he was out the door in just a few quick strides.

"Let him go, Pete," Steve said just in case Peter tried to follow him. "I think he could use a break."

Peter nodded solemnly. "I know. Aunt May used to make that face right after we lost Uncle Ben."

"It's going to be okay," Bucky said suddenly. "I don't know him well, but Colonel Rhodes seems strong, and he has everything to live for. He'll fight."

"And you?" Loki asked Bucky. "Are you prepared to fight an injury of your own?"

Steve thought for a moment Loki meant the arm, but realized he meant Hydra's programming when he saw how intensely Loki was staring at Bucky.

"Yes." Bucky straightened up where he sat. "If you or somebody can fix me so I can't ever be Hydra's puppet again, I'm willing to try anything."

"Good." Loki's eyes were dark and serious for once. "It will not be easy, and it may even require you to leave this realm for a time. But given that, if you have the will to fight, we will remove the spell."

Steve managed to smile. "If you keep helping us out like this, we might all owe you a bunch of favors," he joked.

Loki smirked back, and Steve wasn't sure if he liked that expression right now.

With so much to think about, it would be much, much later before Steve realized he and Tony hadn't talked. Before he realized he hadn't truly apologized for anything at all.

-==OOO==-

Rhodey didn't really realize he was awake until he tried to rub his eyes and hit himself in the nose with an IV line.

"What…?"

"Hey."

Tony's face swam into view, dark against the white ceiling and the lights. Rhodey's vision was blurry, but he could see that Tony hadn't slept, that his hair was wild, and that his shirt was extra rumpled. Tony held a cup of water to Rhodey's lips for a few moments, and the cool water was a balm on his throat that he hadn't even realized was burning.

"You okay?"

Tony's face twisted as he set the cup down. "You're the one lying in the hospital and you ask if I'm okay?"

"Are you?" Rhodey pressed.

Tony sighed, trying to make it look like he wasn't on the edge of grief. "Yeah. The whole team is. You're the only one who…"

Tony made one of those expressions that told Rhodey his best friend was right on the brink of an emotional outburst he would rather die than let anyone else see. And since this was apparently a hospital and a nosy nurse or doctor might walk in at any moment, Rhodey needed to save him from it or Tony would give himself heartburn trying to pretend to be okay.

"Just gimme the damage," he said.

"Between the knife blade and the fall, your spine got shattered — L4 through S1. Extreme laceration of the spinal cord. Probably looking at some form of paralysis." Tony said it as if he were diagnosing a problem with his tech, and Rhodey knew it wasn't because he didn't care; it was because he cared so much that if he let himself, he'd break.

Rhodey took a deep breath.

He knew he was going to cry later. He'd have a lot of feelings, anger and resentment amongst them. He'd been a soldier too long, and had known so very many others before him who went out and came back forever changed — physically or otherwise. He knew he would have a hard road and his fears and pains would not be his friends on the journey.

But right now, right this second, his best friend, his little brother was hurting far more than he. And if that Siberian mission was to have been his last, then Rhodey was going to save Tony one more time before he hung up his wings.

"Tony," Rhodey said, keeping his voice soft. "Tony, it's okay."

"No, I'm going to fix this," Tony said, because of course he did. "The suit was a big prosthetic for me, so it can do the same thing for you. Might make a bulky pair of pants, but I can work with that."

Rhodey reached out and grabbed Tony's hand before he could get too wild with his gesticulating.

"Tony. Listen to me."

Tony must have been truly shaken, because he did.

"I don't regret it, okay? I don't regret one second I spent as War Machine flying and fighting and watching your back. If I never get out of this bed for as long as I live, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. You hear me?"

Tony made a sound like a cough. "But…" And then, very, very softly, "Jim, I'm so sorry."

He could count literally on one hand the number of times Tony had called him by his first name in decades. Hell, 'Rhodey' was so ingrained that that's how he thought of himself, not the name his mom had given him at birth. And so it struck all the harder to hear it break from Tony like that.

"I know, Tony," he said. He reached up until he could grab Tony and he hauled him down by his neck into a hug. "I'm not sorry. And I know you'll have me up and walking again, because that's who you are. But it doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters." And there was the little kid hiding in the great Tony Stark, the kid who'd lost his parents too early, who'd been alone too long. Tears dripped on Rhodey's neck and they weren't his.

Rhodey squeezed harder. "The only thing that matters is that I got to fly."

"You'll fly again. I swear it."

And Rhodey smiled. "I believe you." He patted Tony's shoulder. "Now, quit crying on me and tell me what you already have cooking in your brain to get me out of here. And if you don't order me a decent cheeseburger as soon as I'm allowed to have solid food, I'm throwing a bedpan at you. A full one."

Tony laughed a little brokenly and nodded. "As soon as you're cleared, I'll have an all-American feast waiting for you. And probably a cohort of Avengers wanting in on it."

"Eh, let them wait." Rhodey gave Tony a shake, and pretended not to see Tony's wet eyes as he sat up again. "They can eat hospital food. Or go get their own. It's not like their legs don't work."

That startled a coughing laugh out of Tony.

Rhodey smiled. "Too soon?"

"Oh my god." Tony rubbed at his face, but he finally looked more like himself again.

And Rhodey knew he'd won this battle, at least. And as long as he could keep Tony safe one way or another, he'd learn to make that enough for him.

But he had hope that Tony would give him the sky again. If anybody could, it would be him.

Tony shook himself and pulled out his phone. "Okay. Until cheeseburger o'clock, let's start on Iron Pants-triot Mark 1."

Rhodey scowled. "We are not calling it that."

"What do you want? Iron Britches? War Ma-Jeans?"

"Oh my god, I hate you." Rhodey flopped back on his pillow. "You're the worst."

"Hey, I learned it from the best," Tony said.

And if Tony's jokes were a little too forced, and Rhodey let him go a little crazier on the design than really made any sense, well, they all had their coping mechanisms. Tony's was to build, and Rhodey's was to joke.

But one thing was clear: whatever they ended up with, it was going to have an awful name.

Chapter Text

Wanda had never felt so adrift and lost in her life. The only thing that made any sense was the constant feeling of waiting for pain that hung over every moment.

"These Avengers," she told Pietro quietly the first day, "are crazy."

"At least they have better food than Hydra," was his answer.

The Avengers had done more than feed them; they had given Wanda and Pietro rooms in their Compound, asking only that they not leave the grounds. Considering the crimes Wanda and Pietro had committed, and that, for most of their lives, they had scraped by on nothing, the slight constraint of freedom was still a luxury. They weren't even guarded all the time — a few of the Avengers were around most days, but their only real overseer was the voice from the ceiling, JARVIS.

The Avengers at the Compound most often were Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, and Vision. Tony Stark was spending most of his time either at the hospital with his friend or in his Tower working. The child with spider powers had apparently gone home to get back to school. Steve Rogers was present but hovering close to the Winter Soldier who was keeping his distance. Bruce Banner, according to JARVIS, was back at the Tower with Stark, partially to help in the construction of prosthetics for Colonel Rhodes, and partially in case "the Hulk doesn't like you right now."

Wanda couldn't help but notice that most of the strongest Avengers were nowhere near at all, leaving Pietro and herself with people they could have easily overpowered if they had wished. It was either a sign of trust or a test. Perhaps both.

For two weeks, Wanda interacted with the other Avengers as little as possible. JARVIS was able to arrange delivery of meals and necessities to their rooms, so she saw no reason to venture into the communal spaces the others inhabited. Pietro, on the other hand, enjoyed what he called his reconnaissance missions into new territory. Wanda hadn't been able to pin down her brother before he had enhanced speed, and certainly not after, so she didn't bother to stop him.

Instead, Wanda spent her time reading.

Either no one had thought to lock out guest access to files held at the Compound or, again, the Avengers were trusting to the point of ridiculousness. But Wanda had at her fingertips thousands, hundreds of thousands of documents from both SHIELD and Hydra. She had seen some of the redacted versions that were released by Steve Rogers after the Battle of the Triskelion, but these versions were unedited and much more extensive.

At first, Wanda had wanted to know if Rumlow was lying about Sokovia, even though she knew in her heart that he was not. But a feverish interrogation in the depths of rage was not the same as seeing it in document after document going back decades. Once there was no denying the role Hydra had played in the subjugation of her homeland and the attacks that had killed her parents, she dove deeper.

After so long, so many lies, so many missteps, Wanda wasn't going to make another one. And what her powers had taught her was that knowledge, information, secrets — these were infinitely more valuable than the ability to levitate a car.

And Wanda never, never wanted to be caught off-guard again simply because she had lacked the truth.

"Unless I choose to read the mind of every person we encounter," she said to Pietro, "then I can only learn the truth by studying."

Pietro had nodded. They both understood now that Rumlow had kept secrets from Wanda, that he had manipulated them both to keep her from reading his mind too often or too closely, had even redirected them to think that it was Strucker, not Rumlow, who contained the more important knowledge. Rumlow had pretended to be a bureaucrat who had hidden in SHIELD by his lack of importance or strategic significance, and he had played them so well, Wanda missed it.

And because she had, they had bombed the UN, killing dozens who probably never deserved it.

"What is the point in being able to tear a man's mind open for my perusal if I do not use it?" Wanda asked Pietro another day. "And yet, if I rip apart every person, what does that make me?" She had looked away. "I am so tired of being a monster."

"Nobody thinks you're a monster," Pietro told her.

"Are you sure about that?"

"You should try them and find out." Pietro raised an eyebrow. "At least come listen to Barton cry when I beat him at Mario Kart."

And Pietro kept asking. So after she had read files and interviews for two weeks until she felt she was dreaming in typeface fonts and seeing the Hydra symbol on the inside of her eyelids, she finally joined him in the common room one afternoon.

"Hey Wanda." Sam Wilson waved, smiling as if he were pleased to see her. "Nice of you to join us."

"Oh good." Clint Barton sat on a couch, a video game controller already in his hands. "Can you distract your brother so I can beat him for once?"

"Would you really want to win by cheating?" Natasha Romanoff asked idly from her perch at the counter.

"At this point, yes!"

Vision phased through part of a wall to greet them. "I am gratified to see you out and about," he said, smiling. "Is there anything you would like to eat or drink?"

"No, thank you." Wanda looked around, checking for any threats, for anyone hiding, for anything out of place. But Pietro was less cautious and threw himself onto the couch.

"You are going down yet again, old man."

Barton scowled. "For the last time, you runty track star, I am not old."

Wanda snorted before she could stop herself. Then she froze; she had not meant to give herself away like that. But no one reacted to it. No one looked as if they were reading her as closely as she was reading them.

Which didn't mean they weren't.

"I hope you don't mind," Vision said, sounding almost hesitant. "I took the liberty of asking your brother if there would be some food you might find familiar. I have been attempting to replicate several dishes he recommended, but they have all turned out...rather unpalatable."

"What Vision is saying," Natasha said, "is that he has been banned from the kitchen again. You'd think having the internet wired into your brain would help with following a recipe, but apparently it doesn't."

"Perhaps," Vision continued, "you could show me where I have gone awry? Your brother says you are the better cook of the two of you."

"I'm not allowed to cook, either," Pietro piped up from the couch where he had his legs crossed under him and the tip of his tongue stuck out as he was staring at the game. "Something about lack of patience."

"Pretty normal side-effect of super-speed, I'd guess," Sam Wilson said.

"I…" Wanda was at a loss.

"Hey." Natasha Romanoff was sitting up straight, all pretense of nonchalance gone from her posture. "Look. Nobody here is asking you to trust us. We're not going to interrogate you, but you don't know that yet and it's fine. We're not even asking you to open up to us."

"Then what do you want?" Wanda asked, and she hated how it came out sounding so small.

"Just get to know us." Vision remained in front of her, and Wanda realized how kind his inhuman face could be. "Every word you offer us is a gift of your own choosing. We will not judge you for it."

"Why not?" Wanda's hands closed into fists. "We are criminals. Terrorists."

"So am I." Natasha Romanoff gave a faint smirk. "And, trust me, I have a lot more blood on my hands than you do."

"You don't have to be afraid here," Sam Wilson said. "You're safe. And every one of us would fight to protect you if it came to it. If Hydra or anybody else showed their face, we'd have your back first."

If anything, that upset Wanda even more. "But why?"

"Because." Clint Barton had set down the game controller and was looking at her. "We didn't try to help you when we took the scepter from Sokovia, or in Switzerland. Hydra made you what they wanted, just like Bucky. Maybe you thought that you chose it, but you didn't. Hydra manipulated you the whole time. But when you finally got to make a choice, you chose us. That...that puts you in the category of people we take care of, not the ones we fight."

Pietro had gone still, too. "You would have helped us? Even after we fought you?"

Sam Wilson's eyes were sad. "You didn't give us much of a chance, but we should have tried. We didn't put it together."

"You were lied to," Vision said. "You were alone, vulnerable, seeking anyone who would help you survive in an unstable and repressive political climate. You had no way to know Hydra's true intentions."

"But I did." Wanda only barely held her temper in check, anger flowing through her veins. "I did have a way of knowing. And I allowed them to lie and use us for our powers and I did nothing to stop them. I became the evil I have always hated!"

Natasha Romanoff stepped towards her, waving Vision away. Wanda saw Clint Barton rise from the couch, but his posture didn't look like he was bracing for an attack.

"There's only one path out of that," Natasha said. "I would know. I've been there."

Her eyes were steady and her hands were loose, and Wanda had rarely wanted to read someone's mind so badly, to know what they truly thought and felt, what they meant, what they intended.

But if she did that, she would continue to be Hydra's monster. And she didn't want to be that anymore.

So instead, she asked, "How?"

"You know me. You know what I've done. You've spent your time reading the files."

Wanda nodded.

Natasha held her gaze. "Someone opens a door you didn't think existed. A door to a new reality. And you walk through it. Which you did."

"And then," Clint Barton said, "you take everything you can do, and you do it to protect the people you never meant to hurt."

"You screwed up," Sam Wilson said. "You both did stuff that...well. But we're giving you a chance. You've earned that. You deserve that. And it won't be easy. But if you give it a try, you can do a lot more with those powers than set bombs and drop mountain bases on people. You can save people. The way you wanted to be saved."

Wanda felt tears on her cheeks.

A gentle touch on her shoulder made her realize that Clint Barton had crossed the room.

"We didn't save you as kids. We didn't save you from Hydra. If you let us, we'll save you now."

And there was something in the set of his face, the look in his eyes, that reminded Wanda suddenly of her father. Of his kindness and his determination. He was steady in a way that felt safe, and it was so foreign to her senses that it took Wanda a moment to understand it.

They hadn't been safe in so long.

And when Clint Barton cautiously took her in his arms and held her like a little girl, Wanda let him.

-==OOO==-

"Hey."

Nat looked up. Clint was leaning against the wall.

"Hey yourself," she said.

"Nice go-bag you got there."

With anyone else, Nat would have maintained an aloof exterior. With Clint, it wouldn't matter. She faced him head on.

"Look. I need to take a couple of days. You can handle the twins on your own that long."

"Hmm." He uncrossed his arms and filled the doorway. "I mean, yeah, of course I could. But that's not what's going to happen, Nat."

She squared her jaw. "This isn't a mission for SHIELD or for us. This is just something I need to check out."

"You think you're the only person who keeps tabs on that place in Budapest?" Clint's expression was firm and unyielding.

Damn him. "I don't even know what it is," she admitted. "But if it was important enough for someone to send a package there, I need to take a look. Especially since I can count on one hand the number of people who know about that one, and two of them are standing here."

"Yep, no arguments. Which is why I'm coming along as backup."

"Clint…"

But she stopped. His face was unmoving, and he wasn't even trying to hide his signals anymore. The only way she was getting past him now was by force — and he was ready to fight her on it.

"It's not a question about whether or not I'll be there," he said. "It's up to you whether we ride together or if I follow you after I patch up whatever you do to me on the way out."

Put that simply, Nat could only shake her head.

"Fine. Gear up."

He moved into the room, only barely watching her for trickery. But there was none.

Nat could do anything she had to do alone. But she would much rather have someone at her back in a fight. And there was still no one on the planet she trusted at her back more than Clint Barton.

"So, out of curiosity," he said as he pulled out his own go-bag and started adding supplies, "who else does know about our fun little Hungarian hideout? The only person I told was Fury, and you know he didn't go blabbing or late-night internet shopping on the black market." Clint paused. "I mean, probably."

"For all we know, this could be one of Fury's games," she pointed out. "I haven't written that off yet."

Clint raised an eyebrow and waited.

Nat chuckled. "You really are the only interrogator who's ever gotten anything useful out of me," she told him.

"That," he said with a smile, "is because you got sick of me and my charming stubbornness."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that." She let out a breath. "I don't want to speculate too much before we see whatever it is that got sent there. But there's…an off chance."

He stilled, waiting.

Nat met his eyes and let him see the trepidation she wouldn't have shown another soul. "Well, you have always wanted to meet my sister, haven't you?"

-==OOO==-

Two weeks later, there was an inadvertent Avengers party at the Compound. Clint and Natasha had been cleared by medical after they'd come back from some secretive mission (they had gone without telling Steve and he was still rather irked by it), Colonel Rhodes was being released to the Compound to continue his rehabilitation now that Tony had arranged for full-time care to live on site to support him, and Sergeant Barnes had returned from the most recent trip with Loki to wherever they went to purge Hydra's programming. Loki had never volunteered their destination, and Sergeant Barnes had not chosen to say much about it, either.

Vision was certain that Loki had not intended to stay, only to leave further instructions with Steve as he usually did, except that Steve told Loki that Peter was coming back to the Compound for dinner with Tony. It did not take having a neural matrix as intelligent as any human and the Mind Stone for Vision to know that Loki was fond of Peter in a way he would rather die than admit.

For which Vision was very grateful. There were certainly worse forces to reform the trickster god.

Someone, and Vision privately thought it was probably JARVIS and Pepper, had anticipated the fact that the entire team and their guests would be present, and so an enormous feast worthy of a holiday was delivered just before dinnertime. Tony himself, with Pepper and Peter in the car, arrived exactly after all the work of setting the table and arranging the food was done.

For the first hour, it was a rush of chaos and conversation, food and joking, and a great deal of yelling. With Thor having missed the entire Siberian adventure, he wanted to be told the tale in sufficiently epic fashion, which absolutely everyone refused to do. Which, predictably, led to Thor expounding at great volume upon the value of one's exploits as epic songs and poems. The more sensible members of those assembled attempted to tell the story simply and factually, but that left room for the mischievous ones to elaborate or attempt to set the briefing to music.

Which is how Steve ended up throwing a dinner roll with perfect aim to hit Sam in the mouth when he took his turn at singing about the fight by parodying "Kung Fu Fighting."

Amidst the laughter and the camaraderie, Vision watched the pockets of discomfort. At Bucky Barnes, who seemed happy to be included, but still nervous and weary and unsure. At Wanda and Pietro, outsiders, though Pietro's outgoing nature was slowly but steadily pulling them both into the whole. At Pepper, who tried to maintain a certain level of decorum and generally failed with good humor. At Rhodey, who laughed with the others but whose eyes were haunted when he thought no one was looking.

Vision thought about how close they had all come to catastrophe. Had Peter not followed them to intervene in the fight between Tony and Steve, had Loki not bespelled Peter somehow to keep him safe, had cooler heads not prevailed when emotions were high...Vision felt a keen pang at what might have been.

But, though they had emerged victorious, they had taken new scars, new wounds. Rhodey's was the most severe of the physical consequences, but there were mental injuries, too: the trust between Steve and Tony, and the heavy knowledge Tony carried when he looked at Bucky.

And yet. Together they gathered at this table, not only the Avengers, but those who had been their enemies now breaking bread together as allies. Loki maintaining a hooded expression that cracked whenever Peter made him smile. Wanda and Pietro teaming up with Clint against Steve. Even Bucky falling into quiet conversation with Bruce.

Vision was so grateful that they had endured together, all of them, in spite of the challenge in doing so. Not only would something precious and irreplaceable have been broken had events come out differently, but he would have feared for the future.

Because Vision could never quite forget the Mind Stone's cause for panic that led it to a child rather than risk evil once more. And he knew, as Loki knew, as Tony knew, that such evil was still waiting somewhere in the universe. And, someday, it would move against them.

Vision could only hope they would be ready, but at least they would be united.

Shaking himself from such dire thoughts, Vision made his way to where Peter had gone back to the table of food for another helping.

"Hello, Peter. May I speak to you for a moment?"

"Oh, hi! Sure!" Peter leaned across the table, only his unnatural agility keeping him from falling onto every dish between himself and the platter of cookies at the other end. He snagged a few and added them to the pile on his plate. "Do you mind if I eat, though?"

"Of course not," Vision assured him. "With your new metabolism, I understand you need to eat rather more than a normal teenager."

"Yeah." Peter returned to the couch where he had made himself a place — it was a little out of the way, as was his usual when surrounded by the adults, but it also let him see everything. "Mister Stark says I need to eat more even than Captain Rogers, so about four times what's normal. But I can't do it around Aunt May without her finding out, so I kind of have to make up for it whenever I can."

Vision's eyes widened. "Are you hungry when you are with May, Peter?"

"Um." Peter squirmed. "Mister Stark knows about it. He and Doctor Banner are coming up with some kind of supplement bars that'll help. And I grab food on patrol a lot. So it's okay."

"But before I revealed your identity to Tony, were you hungry?"

Peter looked away, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

"I owe you an apology." Vision settled on the couch beside him. "That's why I wished to speak with you. It was my fault you were unmasked as Spider-Man before you were ready. I should not have done it and I am sorry."

"How did you know, anyway?" Peter wanted to know.

Vision smiled. "The Mind Stone sees not through my eyes. I can recognize a person's signature, their energy, if you will. So, while your outer form did not change in a way that suggested you had become enhanced, the Mind Stone could perceive much more."

"You knew I was enhanced before that night, didn't you?"

Vision nodded. "Yes. After your recovery from the radiation poisoning, I could see you changing constantly, as you are still. But I did not know you were Spider-Man until that night, when I looked at Spider-Man through the Mind Stone and saw the one I knew as Peter."

"I'm not mad," Peter said, setting down his plate and meeting Vision's eyes. "I didn't want you to tell him, but it's okay because I know you were worried about me and you didn't really mean to. And...it's been good. Like, with the food. Now that Mister Stark knows, he's helping me."

"But you have not told May yet?" Vision frowned. "Does she not deserve to know?"

"Yeah...Mister Stark's going to make an announcement about that." Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "He and Miss Pepper and I had a huge argument about it, but I guess we figured it out."

"Well. I am not your parent, so I will not opine as to the correct course. But I will say that I hope you will be safe, and if you are ever in need of assistance, you may contact me."

Peter smiled. "Thanks, Vision. But really, all I do is rescue bikes from bike thieves and make sure people don't get mugged waiting for the subway. It's not Avengers-level stuff."

"The Avengers may primarily focus upon the larger, more existential world threats, but that does not mean there is no value in what you do," Vision said. "All life deserves to be protected, even from muggers."

"Oh, are we going crime-fighting with the kiddo?" That was Clint approaching from behind and flinging himself over the couch. "I'm down with that. Some good, old-fashioned, low-key hero work sounds like fun."

"He did not suggest he needs your help, archer," Loki said, literally appearing out of the air. "He is fully capable of his exploits without your pathetic attempts to be witty."

"I'm hurt, Loki." Clint smirked, and Vision was surprised at the lack of suspicion; usually he could read Clint's discomfort around Loki almost without the Mind Stone's perception. Tonight, it was almost entirely absent.

"Guys." Peter's face was a little red. "I'm fine. But, um, thanks. For offering."

"Okay." Tony looked over from his place across the room. "If it's Accost Peter Time, then I'm going to need you all to listen up for a minute."

Sam booed momentarily, but Rhodey threw a handful of wadded-up napkins at him and Steve called everyone to order with his Captain voice and that actually got the room quiet eventually.

"So." Tony stood up, his hands in his pockets, and his posture loose, but Vision could see that he was uncomfortable and trying to hide it. "As of tonight, we have come up with a compromise on the issue of Spider-Man. And, as part of the deal I've made, I need every single one of you to get on board."

"What kind of deal?" Nat asked.

"Peter can keep being Spider-Man as long as he stays close to the ground helping old ladies cross streets and getting cats out of trees. Little stuff. Maybe the occasional mugger."

Beside Vision, Peter rolled his eyes.

"Is that a good idea?" Sam asked, entirely serious all at once. "No offense, kid. But none of us want to see you get hurt and stuff can happen."

Peter actually stood up and faced the room, his shoulders back. Vision could see the flickers of pride ripple across the faces of many of those present.

"I was Spider-Man before you all knew it, and I'm going to keep being Spider-Man. Queens needs me. And if something happens and I could have stopped it…" He swallowed. "I've been saved so many times. Everybody else doesn't have the Avengers' phone numbers saved in their contacts. I need to protect everyone who was like me before I had you."

"So." Tony looked a little choked up after Peter's words. "Peter can be Spider-Man. But there are conditions on both sides. On his side, he has to check in with me whenever he goes on patrol, and when he gets home, he has to tell me if he gets so much as a papercut, and he has to tell me if he runs into anything more dangerous than a mugger so he can get backup."

"I feel like I can handle more than that," Peter said, scowling.

"Yep, but you're not going to. Got it, Underoos?"

Peter sighed.

"In return, the Avengers, in the person of me, have agreed to help him out any time he needs it, and not to tell May."

"Tony." Steve was frowning. "We can't not tell May about this."

"Legally, I don't have to," Tony said, "being his official guardian and all. But that's not why."

Peter fidgeted with his fingers. "I know I have to tell her eventually. I just, I don't want Aunt May to be worried. She would never let me do this in the first place, and if she finds out I'm doing it, she'll have nightmares again and...I just can't." He looked up, his eyes big and pleading. "She's been through so much. She's finally happy. I just...I want to give her that, for as long as I can."

"What about when she finds out?" Bruce asked. "And she freaks out and says you have to stop?"

"I'll convince her," Peter said. "But if I've been doing it a lot longer, and if I haven't gotten hurt and I've helped people, it'll be easier to make her see that it's okay."

"There is so much wrong with your logic, kiddo," Clint said. "I'm telling you this as a parent. This is a bad idea."

"It's all a bad idea," Tony said, running his hands through his hair. "There's no good ideas here. But we can't stop him. He snuck around JARVIS before and he'll do it again."

Peter nodded unrepentantly.

Tony sighed. "At least if I know, if we know, we can keep him safe. And come up with a strategy to keep May from killing us one and all when she finds out."

"Tony." Rhodey's voice was low. "She deserves to know."

"I'm almost fifteen," Peter said. "It's my right. In health class they said that we have the right not to tell our parents things about our bodies and our choices as long as we're being safe."

"Oh my god you are not using the sex education curriculum to justify being a superhero right now," Pepper said, sighing. "Look, I also think this is a terrible idea and it's going to end badly. But...Peter has a point."

Everyone looked at her and she held up a hand that glowed orange. "They are his powers and it is his body and he does have a right to agency over them. Although we might have a responsibility to tell May, I do believe it's wrong to do it without his consent. Especially since he will have multiple adults keeping him safe in her place."

Vision caught a very pleased smirk on Loki's face and wondered how much help Peter had gotten to win this argument.

"Look, nobody likes it," Tony said. "But...it's his life. His choice. For now." He glared at Peter. "And, believe me, we are going to be keeping such a close eye on you, you'll be squashed like the bug you are."

Peter grinned at Tony, understanding the joke and the love that was beneath it.

"And therefore." Suddenly Tony strode over to one of the hidden compartments where he kept an Iron Man armor — he had a lot of them strewn all over the Compound and the Tower for quick response times. "Call this a combination of an early birthday present and a thank you for saving all our butts from the Manchurian Candidate over there."

"Thanks, Stark," Bucky muttered.

The compartment opened revealing not an Iron Man suit, but a different suit entirely. One with Peter's Spider-Man symbol emblazoned across the chest.

"It's just a minor upgrade," Tony said.

Peter was staring, his mouth hanging open.

"Whoa. Oh my God. What the...?"

"Like it?" Tony grinned.

Peter managed a few steps forward. "This-this is the coolest thing I've ever seen. Is it for me?"

"No, it's for some other Spider-Kid of my acquaintance." Tony actually grabbed Peter and hauled him up to it. "Go on. Check it out."

Peter's hands fluttered over the suit. "This is insane. Insane. Look at this thing! Look at the eyes! This is the greatest day of my life!"

Peter spun and gathered Tony into a huge hug, lifting his feet cleanly off the ground.

"Thank you! Thank you, padrino!"

"Okay, kid." Tony patted his shoulder until Peter let him down, gamely ignoring a whole lot of snickering going on around the room. "Just...this is supposed to keep you safe. So let it do its job. Okay?"

Peter's smile was so bright and wide it was like the sun shining. "This is awesome!"

"Tony," Steve asked, trying not to be moved by the happy child before him. "Is this...really a good idea?"

"No. But I gave clear instructions. Don't do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything I wouldn't do. There's a...there's a little gray area in there, and that's where Spider-Man is allowed to operate."

"This," Nat said softly, "is going to end so badly."

"Yeah." Clint rubbed his face. "But he's a first-time parent. He's gotta learn somehow."

"I heard that, evil SHIELD twins." Tony pointed at them. "I dare you two to go through four hours of impassioned arguing with the kid and see if you emerge intact."

"Huh." That was Pietro, standing beside Wanda where they had been watching the proceedings. "Does that mean there are two sets of evil twins here?"

Vision knew he was not the only person who appreciated the Maximoffs engaging with them, and even Wanda smiling at her brother's comment. He hoped the others realized how important it was and reacted accordingly.

They did not disappoint.

"Three if you count Hammer Boy and Prince of Darkness over there," Tony said, gesturing to Thor and Loki. Thor scowled much more about the nickname that Loki did.

"What about us?" Bruce asked, a tiny smile on his face. "I thought we were science bros?"

"And don't forget the old man twins," Sam said, pointing at Steve and Bucky.

"Wow, feeling left out here," Rhodey said. "Pepper, can we form a duo?"

"Of course. The keeping-Tony-out-of-trouble twins," she said, smiling.

"I believe," Vision said, "that leaves only myself, Peter, and Sam who have not been paired off."

"You can have Peter," Loki spoke up. "As those worthy of an Infinity Stone and far less annoying than most mortals."

Peter beamed at him.

"Guess that leaves me as the lone man out," Sam said, pouting. "This sucks."

"You have your little drone," Nat told him.

Sam's pout turned into a rude gesture.

"You can pair up with JARVIS," Peter suggested, barely taking his eyes off his new suit. "I'm sure he would appreciate it."

"Oh, that is awesome. Yes. I claim JARVIS. Eye in the sky power, dominion over you all!"

And when such boasting and silliness resulted in a no-holds-barred actual food fight, complete with the use of powers and technology, Vision was in no way surprised. But he did learn a few things about his teammates and friends.

That Peter's ability to climb walls and evade everything thrown at him was a huge advantage to him and anyone he chose to pair with.

That Pietro's speed made him the absolute master of the food fight, and the only person who didn't need to change clothes in the end.

That Wanda was lovely when she let herself laugh.

And that, even with the evils in the universe and upon the Earth, Vision believed with every fiber of his being — artificial, magical, or otherwise — it could not be stronger than the nameless thing that lived and continued to grow amongst this group of remarkable, impossible people.

-==OOO==-

It was no coincidence that Sam decided to wander into the training room Tony had set aside for Rhodey the next day. He wasn't licensed as a PT, but he had experience working with vets who had taken bad injuries, and he thought maybe the pair of them could use a third perspective if stuff got hard.

Somehow, Sam was not surprised when he arrived to find that Tony was strapping a complicated-looking set of leg braces on Rhodey.

"Hey," he called in greeting. "Do I even want to know how you got the kid's suit and those done in, what, three weeks?"

"To be fair, I had some time on my hands."

"That," Rhodey said, "is Tony-speak for not sleeping."

"Well." Tony coughed and Sam could see it was a cover. But then Tony surprised him and gave the honest answer. "Between finding out my kid was going up against muggers and runaway buses wearing sweatpants and my best friend losing the ability to walk, I had a lot of stuff on my mind."

"Tony." Rhodey's voice was low and steady. "One hundred and thirty-eight combat missions. That's how many I've flown. Every one of them could've been my last, but I flew 'em. Because the fight needed to be fought."

Tony nodded, even if he averted his eyes.

"It's not going to be easy," Sam offered. "But I know with you working together on it, you'll revolutionize post combat injury treatments and change the world all over again. Just...take it easy for now. Both of you. On yourselves and each other. Nobody learns to walk in a day."

"Good advice." Rhodey looked at the braces. "Come on. Let's try this."

Tony took an arm and, without being asked, Sam took the other. Between the two of them, they got Rhodey situated between the parallel bars.

Even Sam held his breath as Rhodey took a few tentative steps. They faltered a little, but he was moving.

"It's just the first pass," Tony said. "Gimme some feedback and I'll make it happen. Anything you can think of. Shock absorption. Lateral movement. Cup holder?"

Sam wrinkled his nose at him. Tony ignored him.

"Maybe some AC down…" Suddenly Rhodey slipped. Sam and Tony caught him before he could hit the ground.

"Easy," Sam said.

"No." Rhodey turned to him, his jaw set. "Don't help me. I can do this."

Sam smiled. "I know you can."

They got him back up between the bars. Tony was alternately helping and hovering.

"Sure you're okay?"

Rhodey shot him a smile. "Oh yeah."

Sam was going to remind them about not pushing too hard, especially without a PT in the room, when they were all interrupted by a knocking on glass.

Sam looked up to see a FedEx driver standing at the window. Which made less than no sense. This was a private wing of the Compound, nowhere near the front door. But the man looked old and harmless, and he was waving an envelope.

"Is one of you...Tony Stank?"

Sam started to laugh so hard he nearly choked on air. Tony's face was blank, his face rebooting.

But Rhodey never missed a beat.

"Yes, this is Tony Stank. You're in the right place. Thank you for that!"

The FedEx driver looked quite pleased with himself. Sam couldn't even breathe.

Rhodey rotated on the bars intending to walk back to the other end, leaving Tony gaping at the man at the window.

"I'm never dropping that, by the way," Rhodey said over his shoulder. "Table for one, Mister Stank. Please, by the bathroom."

And Rhodey took some steps on his own, his shoulders up and proud.

Whenever Sam quit hyperventilating, he'd say something inspiring. For now, he could only laugh.

Chapter Text

Bucky shivered in spite of the warm night. Traveling with Loki back to Earth always made him feel cold, even if he didn't really know why. It certainly didn't seem to bother anybody else.

There was a lot he didn't know about this process, actually. He didn't know where they went, only that it wasn't Asgard because Loki had said so. He didn't know half of what they did because Loki put him under some kind of trance to work on removing the trigger sequence in his head. He didn't know what the hell Loki and Steve had to talk about the entire time he was off in la-la land getting his brain unscrambled.

Steve always came on these deprogramming trips, which Bucky appreciated, but the whole thing was getting old.

Figures that I can heal a broken bone in a day but it takes weeks to clear my head. Steve would say something about me being thick-skulled, which is rich coming from him. He invented being hard-headed.

Steve shook himself. "What time is it?" he asked.

Bucky didn't even bother trying to track time. Wherever they went, something-something about traveling at impossible speeds and wormholes or something, the time difference was weird and inconsistent when they returned to Earth. Speculation — Loki doesn't always take us to the same place. Not that we could tell. It's not like the rocks are green or something. But of course Steve wanted to know.

Beside them, Loki shrugged. "Past nightfall and not yet dawn," he said.

"Well, I can see that," Steve grumbled.

Loki smirked. Bucky waited until Steve wasn't looking to smirk back.

"Hey."

Natasha — no, she goes by Nat, I keep forgetting — emerged from a side door.

"Something wrong?" Steve asked at once.

Bucky sighed. He was too tired to deal with any kind of trouble tonight.

"No, but I need to talk to you." Her eyes flicked to Bucky, then Loki. "Alone."

"Uh, sure." Steve's feet moved but the rest of him stayed still.

Indecision, uncertainty, Bucky's brain told him. Steve doesn't want to leave me. Steve is dumb. He cleared his throat. "Go on. I'm not doing anything more exciting than taking a shower and going to bed."

Steve nodded. "Okay. Come find me if you need anything." He clapped Bucky on the shoulder before following Nat into the building.

Loki waited until Steve had shut the door to say, "He is slightly annoying, is he not? Treating you as if you were some fragile flower."

Bucky chuckled. "Used to be the other way around. A lot's changed."

"Well." Loki rolled his shoulders. "If there is nothing else."

Not intended as an invitation. Sorry, bud. "There is." Bucky felt good about the swift expression of surprise that Loki didn't suppress quickly enough. Catching him off-guard was always a victory. "Something I need to ask you."

Loki's face was very expressive most of the time, which Bucky appreciated. He had enough trouble with his weird brain before trying to interpret stoic people, or Vision. Now, Loki was clearly intrigued, and not in enough of a rush to be impatient about it.

Bucky ordered his thoughts carefully. "Two things, actually."

"And I presume you wish the mighty Captain America to hear neither of them?"

"Not because it's any kind of secret. But it'll just make him worry more and, like you said, I've had enough of that." He went for the more important one first. "What did you do to Peter?"

Loki was clearly surprised. And a little angry. "What precisely do you mean?"

"In Siberia, you did something. Peter hasn't said one word about the Maximoffs killing Rumlow. It's like he forgot it's happened. Which," he put up his hands, "is a good thing. Kid's too young for that. But you did it. I want to know what it is."

"I see." Some of the ire went out of Loki's posture.

Well, at least he's less ticked off. Hopefully that means he'll give me more answers.

"Yes. I can see why you, in the midst of your own battle against altered memories, may be concerned. I thought as you do, that he was not ready. And we could not then afford for any distraction of emotional upheaval."

Tactically sound. But it still feels wrong.

"I did not wipe his memory as was done to you, Barnes," Loki said, meeting his eyes squarely. "However, I employed a simple trick used by Asgardian parents in the cases of nightmares to dull a difficult moment. You can envision that Asgardian children who have grown into their powers might be predisposed to overreactions which could be harmful for themselves or others when frightened."

Bucky's only frame of reference for something like that was the other Winter Soldiers coming up out of being frozen, but he got the idea.

"Does he remember it?" he wanted to know.

"Yes, in an abstract way, as one might remember reading something that happened to another." Loki shrugged — too casual to be truthful, Bucky thought — and added, "As he grows in maturity, the memory will incorporate itself more naturally until he can recall it fully, but with distance."

"Were you going to tell anybody you did that?"

Expression says hell no. That's fun. Not unexpected, though.

"If I must, I shall. But I see no reason to alarm Stark or the others." Loki peered at him. "Do you intend to bargain with me for your silence?"

"No," and Bucky was honest. "You're helping me and god knows you didn't have to do all this. I owe you more than one. You saved me from…" He stopped.

Breathe. I am not in Siberia anymore. I did awful things, but I did not do that one to Stark or the kid or anybody else.

"You do realize, I hope," Loki said, "that you were doubly cursed that day. Not only was the twisting of your mind profound, but you were subject to that woman's powers."

He let out a breath and nodded. "I know. I haven't…I need to talk to her about that. About not doing that ever again. But I think it needs to come from all of us and I don't know if Tony or Steve figured it out yet."

"That her powers influenced their rage as well as yours?" Loki rolled his eyes. "If they have not deduced as much, they are as dense as Thor."

That was the second thing Bucky wanted to ask about, so he took his opportunity.

"You protected Peter from it, from her power somehow. Didn't you?"

"A side-effect of another magic, but yes."

"Could you do the same thing for me?"

Bucky tried to keep emotion out of his voice, but he felt pretty sure he failed. It was just…having the Hydra programming in his head was the worst, but being easily manipulated by Wanda was a different kind of bad. And he'd been manipulated for so long — he never wanted to experience it again.

Steve would say I should extend trust to the twins no matter what they did to us. Steve is an idiot. And if he isn't going to be clear-headed about this, then I have to be.

Loki seemed to consider for a moment. "It would not be so difficult to continue your training a little longer for the purpose of making you more resilient against other such intrusion. I cannot make it impossible, however. My powers are greater than they were before, but there are those who would shred even my defenses with ease."

"I know what happens to me," Bucky admitted, his tongue suddenly dry. "If someone else puts me in that state again…I know what I'm capable of."

"Hmm, as do I. Very well." Loki held out a hand. "In return for your silence on the matter of Peter, I will consent to add some additional protection to your mind. It serves my purpose better for you not to become a vicious murderer, after all."

Pretty sure I shouldn't feel comforted by that, but I do. I bet Steve would worry a lot more about this than those twins.

I have no idea whose priorities are screwed up more — his or mine. Probably both.

I maintain this is a better risk to take.

"Thank you," he said. He gripped Loki's arm. "I'm going to owe you one for that."

"Yes, you likely are." Loki's smile went devious. "But it will be a debt well spent."

Bucky shrugged. "That's the best I can hope for."

-==OOO==-

"Listen," Tony knew he was whining but he didn't care, "whatever it is, it is not more important than the work I'm doing downstairs."

Pepper ignored him, striding along with her arm anchored firmly around his own; he'd have made a run for it by now if not for her ridiculous grip strength.

"Peter's suit is still in the early stages and it needs a hundred upgrades and I need at least a few of them done before his birthday…"

"It's May, Tony. Peter's birthday is in August. You have time."

"And my entire suit got trashed in Siberia…"

She was unmoved. "You have more. You have lots more."

"And there's work to do for Creepy McGee and his Hydra skeleton…"

"While true, that's certainly not your priority so don't even pretend," she said sharply.

Tony blew out a breath. "Seriously, Pep, what is so stupidly important that you need me to drop everything in the middle of the night?" His heart beat suddenly fast. "Is something wrong? With you? With Peter?"

"Nothing is wrong with me, or Peter," Pepper said, and she squeezed his arm. "But this can't wait. It's been weeks and if you're not going to do this on your own, then we're going to do it for you."

"Do what?"

Nat was in the hallway coming towards them, a carefully blank look on her face.

"Oh my god, this is a coup." Tony waggled his free hand at her. "You two are taking over the Avengers and installing yourselves as our dictators. You could have just asked, you know. We'd probably have given in without a fight."

"That's good to know," Nat said, a hint of a smile on her face.

"You're not entirely wrong, Tony," Pepper said. "Let's just say that there's a few of us who got fed up waiting. So, since you can't be trusted to do this yourselves, we're staging an intervention."

Real cold dropped into Tony's gut. She wouldn't.

"We'll be here when you're finished."

Up ahead, the door was marked as 'guest quarters,' but on this hallway, it meant something different. This was a space in the Compound designed specifically to hold an enhanced person. Sure, the space beyond was furnished like a house, complete with a stocked kitchen and furniture and clothes, but it also happened not to have any exterior windows or walls, and the whole floor was reinforced against anything short of the Hulk.

They hadn't even brought Wanda and Pietro down here.

"JARVIS, if you're helping them, I'm going to gut your code and turn you into an alarm clock!" he yelled.

"My apologies, Sir. Miss Potts has used her administrative access, and she has authorized me to ignore an override from you on this specific matter."

"Traitors!"

Right outside the door, Pepper paused. She looked Tony in the eye, and her own expression was sad.

"You're hurting. He's hurting. And it's going to tear us all apart. Just try. If this doesn't work, we'll do it some other way. But, please. For the sake of our family, talk to him."

The door opened. Tony found himself shoved, and immediately collided with a familiar large frame — probably because Steve was trying to get out at the same time. But Pepper was fast and had the advantage of JARVIS. The instant Tony went through the door, it slammed shut.

"You're all fired!" he shouted.

"Not sure that's helping." Steve's voice was low and resigned.

Tony detangled himself from Steve and looked around. The space actually had a full meal on the kitchen counter, enough for the super soldier's appetite. Enough for two meals.

"I'm not doing this." He reached into his pocket — and found his phone was gone. And so was his watch.

Damn spies.

"My phone's gone, too," Steve said, moving away to perch on the couch. "Never thought I'd see the day they'd turn on us."

"Oh, like you turning on me?" It shot out of Tony's mouth before he could stop himself.

Steve actually flinched.

In another mood, Tony might have felt guilty. But today? Today he was done.

"This is going to end so badly." Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Assuming we don't kill each other, we're never going to get anywhere and by the time they let us out of here, we'll just hate each other more than ever."

And he hated how true it was. He hated being in here, looking at Steve, thinking about Steve, and feeling that rage — and, somewhere inside it, that deep, painful betrayal.

Steve looked up, his blue eyes too bright. "I don't hate you, Tony."

Tony turned away. "Good for you."

"No, I mean it. I don't…I've never hated you. This…what I did…it was never…"

"I don't want to hear it." Tony walked over to the kitchen to see if anyone had been kind enough to stock it with alcohol. "As far as I'm concerned, we have nothing to say to each other."

"I…okay. If you say so." He looked away and his shoulders curved inward.

Steve's quickness to back down irritated Tony all over again. He banged around the kitchen, only coming up with fruit juices and a selection of sparkling waters. He chose one at random and settled on a kitchen stool that allowed him to keep the counter between them without ever turning his back on Steve.

"JARVIS? I know you can still hear me."

"Yes, sir. I am unable to answer any request you may make, but I am here."

Tony didn't realize he'd been uncomfortable until he heard that. He hadn't realized he didn't entirely feel safe with Steve anymore.

"You know by participating in this, you're actually taking sides against me, J? You realize that?"

JARVIS paused for a fraction of a second too long. "In fact, if you will forgive me, I believe this is the only course of action in which I do not take sides. The path towards efficient teamwork and a repaired social network requires reconciliation between yourself and Captain Rogers."

Tony growled. "You always take his side. You did it in Siberia, too."

Steve sat up. "Wait, what?"

Tony gave a dry, mocking laugh. "What, you didn't notice that I repulsored you in the face and you walked away with your head intact?"

Steve frowned. "I mean…"

"I had those babies cranked up to maximum. JARVIS adjusted the settings before firing."

"I was simply conforming to my friendly fire protocols which prevent the use of lethal force in a situation which may cause damage to an ally," JARVIS put in.

"The hell you did." Tony glared at the ceiling. "You chose not to hurt Steve, same as you chose not to relay our whole sordid drama to the rest of the team. You had a Legion suit nearby. You kept your mouth shut and let us duke it out."

"Why would he do that?" Steve asked. "Why…I didn't think JARVIS could…I mean, he's not sentient. Right?"

"At this point, who knows?" Tony waved a hand. "But I didn't write that into his moral matrix, that's for damn sure."

"I believed then as I believe now, Sir: You and Captain Rogers are teammates and friends. You have referred to him as 'family.' All my study of healthy human relationships suggests that such bonds should not be broken lightly."

Tony nearly threw his glass. "He lied to me! About my parents!"

"Yes, I did." Steve stood up and walked over, keeping his hands out in front of him, open and loose. "I did, and I'm sorry."

"Bullshit." Tony glared at him, willing his thumping heart to calm the hell down so he could think clearly. "You're not sorry. You'd do it again. You'd do anything for your buddy."

Steve rocked back on his feet. When he spoke, his voice had lost some of that damned pride.

"I wish I could say you were wrong. But I think…I think you're right."

Tony nodded. "Good. Subject closed. Good talk"

"Nat warned me," Steve continued anyway. "She told me that I couldn't put myself ahead of the team. That if I wasn't careful, I'd break something and there'd be no way to fix it."

Fire lanced through Tony's gut. "Did Nat know Hydra killed my parents, too? Was this a fun little story you told around the campfire when I was working my ass off to keep everybody safe?"

"No, it wasn't like that. She didn't…I don't think she ever saw... I didn't…I…" He sighed. "I want to tell you I didn't know for sure either, but that would be a lie."

"Another lie," Tony corrected savagely.

Steve flinched again. "When we were on the run before the Triskelion fell, when we went to that bunker. Zola was showing off all the stuff he'd done from inside SHIELD. He was talking about how accidents happened when things didn't go Hydra's way. He showed us the newspaper article about the car crash."

Tony would rather have poured molten lead in his ears than keep listening. He held the glass so tightly, he thought it should have shattered.

"Nat…she's one of the most observant people I know…but she only has human senses. The video was old and grainy and it…it was flashing so fast. But I saw…there was an accident report photo of Howard in the car. And…"

Tony opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"I wanted it to be nothing. Bad lighting. A degraded video tape. But I could see, just…just for a fraction of a second…that wasn't damage from the car. That was…"

Steve swallowed, looked away.

"It was what?" Tony's voice shook.

"I've cracked enough skulls with my bare hands," Steve whispered. "I know what it looks like."

Tony trembled. His teeth ached from being clenched too tight. But he managed to get his words out.

"So you knew. You've known for two years that Hydra killed them. That Bucky Barnes killed them."

"Tony, I didn't know it was Bucky for sure." Steve held his hands up again. "I didn't know the Winter Soldier was Bucky until later. And even then…I didn't…"

"Stop lying!" Tony hurled his glass and it shattered against the floor. "As soon as you figured out your buddy was Hydra's worst assassin, you knew everything! You've been…you've been eating dinner at my table, pretending to be my friend, and all along you knew he killed them!"

Steve looked away. "I…yeah. I knew. Even if…I mean, I couldn't be certain it was Bucky but…"

"One of your famous gut feelings, huh?" Tony seethed.

"Something like that."

Tony wanted to throw up. He wanted to throw more things. He wanted to punch Rogers in the face so hard he'd bleed back in the forties.

(He wanted to curl up and think about his mom and cry. He wanted to live in a world where none of this had happened and he didn't know what it felt like to be so betrayed by someone he trusted.)

Tony turned away because he had no idea what was on his face but Steve didn't deserve to see it.

"So your buddy kills them, you keep his dirty little secret, and you're surprised when it bites you in the ass? How stupid are you?"

"I didn't want to hurt you, Tony."

Fury flared up like a bomb going off and Tony slammed his hands on the counter.

"Well, you failed miserably!" He choked on a breath that felt too much like a sob. "You had no right to keep that from me!"

"I know. I know." Steve let out his own shaky breath. "I just…I thought you'd been through so much. Peter was dealing with bullies. Hydra was back and we were just learning to be a team and…I thought…"

"You thought what?" Though he almost didn't want to know.

"I thought…I really thought I was protecting you."

"Bullshit! You were protecting yourself and Bucky Barnes!" He stalked back around the kitchen counter and jabbed a finger into Steve's chest. "You never cared about me! You didn't do this for my feelings!"

"I did!"

But Tony didn't believe it for a second. And he was pretty sure Steve didn't believe it, either.

"You sat there and you thought, hey, my best friend from forever is out there and someday we're going to find him. And the only way I get my kumbaya ending riding off into the goddamn sunset is if nobody figures it out." Tony jabbed him in the chest again. "Face it! Getting Bucky back meant more to you than I ever did!"

God he hoped that was sweat running down his face.

Steve's expression crumpled. He actually stepped back, away from Tony.

"What Barnes did," Tony managed, "it's going to take work for me to see past it. But I'm going to try it because he deserves better than the hell hole Hydra gave him. And I'll be damned if I'm part of torturing the guy along with them."

Steve looked up, surprised.

"I know Barton didn't want to do what Loki made him do. I can…I can get there with Barnes. But you…" his voice dropped to a hiss, "you have no excuse."

Tony had seen Steve take punches from the Hulk that didn't knock him back as hard as those words did.

He braced for a fight. Steve always came up swinging when he got hit, and Tony was ready for it. Maybe they'd finish what they started in Siberia. Even if it meant Tony would definitely walk away with broken bones, he'd get the chance to rage.

But Steve nodded.

"You're right."

It surprised Tony so much that he dropped his guard.

"I'm…" Steve coughed. "I'm not a good person, Tony. I mean…I try to be. But the…the problem is that I have blind spots. Nat tried to tell me. That…even if it was Peter in that kind of trouble, you wouldn't…you wouldn't burn the world just for him."

"Peter wouldn't want me to," Tony found himself saying. "I'd want to, but…I've had to live with those consequences before. It's not…the means don't justify the ends when people get hurt. When you…when you look people in the eye and know they bled because of you."

Steve nodded. "It was always…easier back then. Simpler. Hydra and Nazis are evil, and we deal with them. I never…I didn't know what to do when all my options were bad."

"You make new options, you idiot."

"I just…I didn't…"

"You didn't trust me."

Steve looked up at him.

Tony met his eyes. "You didn't trust me. You didn't trust you could tell me the truth and I wouldn't throw you and Barnes out on your asses."

Slowly, Steve nodded. "But I still…I still think it would have hurt you. To find out…"

"That my parents were murdered?" And he could say it without flinching, even if Steve couldn't hear it without his own twitch.

"Yeah."

"I guess we'll never know how I would have felt if you'd just told me one day when we weren't in a fight for our lives while Barnes was being mind controlled." Tony looked away. "I don't know. But it wouldn't…it wouldn't have been like that."

"You wouldn't have tried to kill us both."

That hurt like a slap, but Tony was okay with that. It gave him something else to hold onto.

"In my defense, I think Wanda and her creepy mind magic had a lot to do with that. I don't…I was literally seeing red."

"Me, too."

They lapsed into silence. They stood only a few feet apart, turned slightly away from one another, neither looking at the other.

Tony felt exhausted. He felt wrung out. He wanted a drink and the biggest bed on the planet or, barring that, to lock himself in his workshop with something big and manual that needed doing. Metal that needed to be banged into shape. Something to weld. Something physical.

Something to make the gulf between them fade away.

Tony didn't really quite know when Steve had gotten under his skin in a place like where Bruce resided. It hadn't started there. They hadn't started there. But…in the two years since they became a team again, and then more than a team, it had happened. Steve wasn't a brother like Rhodey, or even like Bruce. He wasn't a part of Tony's world like Peter or May or Pepper. But he was something. Tony had trusted him. He would have left his kid in Steve's hands and never doubted he'd be safe. He would have flown into the sun on only Steve's command.

And underneath the pain of knowing his parents were murdered, underneath the feeling of betrayal that Steve chose Bucky over telling him the truth, came the realization that Steve just didn't feel the same way. Had maybe never felt the same way.

Were we ever really a team at all? Or were we just standing next to each other without ever being something real?

It made him wish he'd never brought these people into his heart, into his home. Into his family.

And then a voice that sounded like May reminded him you can't fix things before they go wrong — you can only fix them afterwards.

"Goddamnit, May," he muttered.

"What?" Steve asked.

Because he knew, even if he hated it, that May was right again. That it didn't matter how things got to this point, that he could be good and mad and hurt for as long as he wanted, but none of it would undo the past. There was a future ahead of them, and it needed fixing.

Is it worth it to me? Is it worth it to take the risk and try to come back from this? To trust again? To be a family again?

Tony's anger said one thing, but his heart said something else.

"Look." Tony kept his eyes turned away. "There's only two paths forward. One, we quietly hate each other and eventually the team fractures. I mean, that's where we're at right now. You don't trust me, I don't trust you, and someday people choose sides and we break up like a band."

"What's the second option?" Steve asked, voice low.

"We lay our cards on the table now. And we…we fix this. Doesn't mean I'm not mad as hell at you, because I am." And hurt, but he didn't want to say that out loud yet. "But we get to where the gears are turning together. Because if we can't…" He trailed off.

"If we can't do this anymore," Steve finished, "the Avengers are finished."

"Yeah."

"And I…we'll lose everything, won't we?"

Tony looked up.

Steve's expressions had gone through a hundred shades of defensiveness and guilt, but now the raw hurt was as naked on his face as it was in Tony's chest.

"I didn't…I woke up and there was…nothing. Some newsreels and familiar street names and some old buildings. And Peggy, even though she…anyway. But…the world." He cleared his throat. "And then after the Chitauri, there was New Year's at your place and Nat trying to get me to date. And then Sam and…"

Steve's voice wasn't shaking, but his hands were.

"I thought…I started to think I had it really good after we…after the team…when we started being together again. It didn't matter that there was nothing else to hold onto because there was something new worth…being here for. But…Bucky…"

The shaking moved to Steve's shoulders.

"I wanted to save him. And I…I didn't want to have to choose. Between him and everything here. And if you'd known, if you'd hated him for what he did…I could never turn my back on him, but I'd have to turn it on you and…I never wanted any of it. I thought…I wanted to save Bucky and bring him in so he could be one of us."

"But you lied," Tony said softly.

"I lied." Steve clenched his hands. "I lied to you and Nat and Sam and everyone. I took the easy way out and told myself I was doing the right thing by not hurting you but…you're right." His breath came out of him in a heavy whoosh. "I was trying to keep myself from hurting. Not you."

"And the worst part is," Tony said, feeling his own quaking feelings stabilizing, "that choice gave Hydra power over us. Wanda used it against us. Set us up for maximum betrayal so she could kill us all. And if not for Peter, she would have succeeded."

Steve nodded. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but I made it so much worse."

A brittle bark of a laugh burst from Tony before he could help it. "Well, join the club. Now you're really one of us. But I'm president of this little organization of screw-ups. You can be the doorman."

Steve cracked almost a smile. "Who's vice president, then?"

"I think it's a tie between the twins, Loki, and maybe Nat, but don't tell her that because she'd kill me."

Steve nodded. Let out a breath. "So…what now? How do we…how do we fix this?"

"Honestly, I'm not good at this part." Tony shrugged. "I mean, is there anything else you haven't told me? More evil skeletons in your old man closet?"

Steve shook his head. "Not that I know of. That…that's enough for a lifetime, I think."

"Okay." He let out a breath. "Well, keep it that way. We can't…if we're going to trust each other again, we need to trust each other. And I…I don't trust many. So if you want to make the cut…"

"I get it." Steve met Tony's eyes. "I'll do better. I know I need to earn back your trust, and that'll take time. But I can…I can do that."

"Nobody can really earn trust," Tony said. "There's no series of tests that make it okay to award trust. It's just…something given. And I…" He cleared his throat. "I'll work on it. Just…I'll work on it. Okay?"

"Okay."

But Steve was still looking like there was something on his mind. And Tony already knew, because the guy really did have a one-track mind.

"I'm not throwing Bucky out, Steve."

He blinked. "I didn't say you would."

"You didn't have to. You're thinking it. I'm working on that one, but he's…like I said. His hands…the blood on them isn't his fault. I can get there with him. And I sure as hell intend to fix that horror show they built for the arm. So quit looking like I'm going to drown your favorite puppy."

If anything, Steve looked upset again. "Tony, thank you. I'm not sure I deserve it, for you to forgive me or for you to help Bucky. But thank you."

"There's no deserving." Tony's throat threatened to close. "Families…we don't keep score. And if you still want…"

"I do want," Steve was quick to say. "Very much."

"Then there you go."

This time, the silence they lapsed into was less tense.

They weren't all perfectly copacetic again. There was no magical discussion that would iron out all the mistrust, the hurt, between them. But Tony had learned enough to know that if he let those feelings drive him, they wouldn't lead him anywhere worth going. If he wanted things to get better, he had to make them better. And, yeah, it would take him a while to fully trust Steve again. It would take him a while to be able to look at Barnes without seeing his mother's body.

But he was going to try. Because that was a world worth building — for himself, for Peter, for the team.

There was a line in that Last Unicorn book of Peter's that circled around in his heart about being a hero. "Heroes know about order, about happy endings — heroes know that some things are better than others."

And Tony knew the Avengers were better as a team, and the team was better as a family.

"Do you think," Steve spoke into the quiet, "that they'll let us out now?"

And Tony was surprised to find that he was in no hurry. Instead, he moved back to the kitchen and started picking up the pieces of the glass he'd broken.

"Even if we told them we were best buds, I think they'll leave us here until morning just to make the point," he said.

"You're probably right."

And Tony realized he hadn't been watching Steve out of the corner of his eye, hadn't been looking for the knife in his back. So when Steve crouched beside him, scooping up a few more pieces of glass, Tony hadn't seen him coming — and didn't flinch from his sudden closeness.

But he was tired of analyzing feelings so he just reached under the sink for a garbage bag and handed it over.

"Let's just…see how it goes," he said. "Eat some of this ridiculous food they got us and maybe you can teach me one of your ancient card games and I can teach you a better one."

He hoped Steve would hear what he wasn't saying. That there was more to talk about, but he needed a break and didn't have the words to ask for it. There were wrinkles to be ironed out here, faults in the coding he wanted to at least know about before they went back out into the world.

And if college had taught Tony anything, it was that you could learn a lot about a person across from a stupid card game. Though Steve would have an unfair advantage with Tony's favorites — Spoons and Egyptian Ratscrew.

"Have you ever played War?" he asked.

Steve gave him a flat look. "I fought in war."

Tony smiled. "Well, this one involves less punching." And more counting of cards, potentially.

Though it's hard to cheat at War. I'll have to get creative.

By morning, they had utterly ruined one coffee table, they'd had four more shouting matches — only two of which were about cards — and Tony was breathing again.

The relationship was still in Safe Mode, but he had good feelings about the reinstall.

Chapter Text

"I have to admit," May said, "my birthdays have certainly become more enjoyable since you started getting involved."

Beside her, Pepper laughed. "This double belated birthday is a win-win scenario. We get a day out to relax, and the boys can do all their wild things without involving us."

"Usually it's Peter's birthday that's an adventure, not Tony's." May took in a deep, life-affirming breath, enjoying the sunshine. The Bermuda day trip was extravagant, but Pepper had insisted. And, now that she was here stretched out on a beach chair listening to the ocean waves, she couldn't be sorry about it.

"Honestly, I think they all need to blow off some steam after everything with Bucky and the UN," Pepper said. "Tony promised they wouldn't do anything that would cause structural damage at the Compound, and with Peter there, he'll keep that promise."

May raised an eyebrow. "Are you using my kid as a safety measure to control Tony Stark?"

Pepper grinned. "What can I say? It works."

They both let themselves laugh.

"I do feel a little bad," May said after a moment. "I haven't seen much of any of you lately. And Peter's been so busy with school, too. It's a good thing his Academic Decathlon thing got postponed or we wouldn't be here now."

Pepper frowned. "What do you mean something happened with his Decathlon team? I didn't hear about that. It's been busy on our end, too."

"Oh, it's a whole mess." May rolled her eyes. "So, you know normally they hold these competitions throughout the school year, and then the final, national meet would be in May, right? And Peter's team qualified this year."

"I did hear about that," Pepper said. "After the fact, though, or Tony and I would have been with you in the audience for the state competition."

"He didn't tell me, either." She let out a breath. "Peter's getting so...private about stuff. Anyway. I guess there was a huge scandal a couple of weeks ago where the tests and topics and everything for the national meet got leaked to a few teams early."

Pepper shook her head. "I would not have expected the academic equivalent of a doping scandal in AcaDec, but I guess people are people regardless."

"Exactly." May ran a hand over her hair. "By the time they figured out who all was behind the attempted cheating, it was apparently too late to reschedule before the end of the school year. So then they wanted to do it over the summer, but a bunch of different schools objected because they didn't have the budget to keep up practices in the summer and thought it wouldn't be fair. So they're doing it at the end of September."

"What about kids on the team who were seniors?" Pepper wanted to know.

"I guess they'd have been out of luck either way. It's a mess according to Peter, especially because the captain of their team, a rising senior girl, suddenly has to captain them through nationals with only a handful of weeks to get ready when they come back after summer vacation. Peter says she's been pushing them harder than ever in the meantime."

"I don't remember doing nearly as many clubs and everything when I was in school," Pepper said. "The kids these days really do a lot, don't they?"

"Tell me about it. Pete's at school until almost dinner time every night, and then he goes to do homework down in the workshop sometimes afterwards, too — any night he's not at Ned's." May chuckled. "I'd tell him to cut back somewhere, but I just don't have the heart to do it. He's frantic, but he's also as happy as I've ever seen him."

There was something in Pepper's smile that May thought looked a little strained. She could understand — she worried about the kid with his hectic schedule, too.

Pepper's face cleared as quickly as it had clouded. "Hmm. Well, remind him that he can always talk to one of us if he needs a break or if he needs someone to help him balance. We've all gotten pretty good at that in the last few years."

"How are you balancing?" May asked. "The last I heard, Bucky Barnes was still suspected of the bombing and the UN was still planning to reconvene to discuss the future of the Avengers."

Pepper waved at the sea as though it had personally offended her. "Honestly, I've dealt with a lot of those UN representatives for years, and I'm glad to share that we're working on an alternative proposal. Especially with Ross leading the argument, whatever resolution they'd get to on their own would be unenforceable at best, and awful at worst."

"So what will happen? And is there anything I can do to support you in the meantime?" May wanted to know.

Pepper smiled at her. "This is doing a huge amount for my peace of mind. For the next few months, I have a feeling we'll be doing this more often, whenever I need to clear my head. I can't get Tony to slow down, but he doesn't recharge by lying on the beach."

"No, he recharges by building stuff with Peter."

"Exactly." Pepper tipped her head back. "It's going to be fine in the end. I can't tell you exactly what we're doing because it's better if no one knows before we spring it on them. But, believe me, nobody will see this coming. And that surprise will be the exact advantage we need."

"With you on the team, I don't doubt it for a minute," May said. "Okay, enough about politics, unless you'd rather vent some?"

"Nope, I'm good."

"Then, let's get into the real discussion." May sat up and leaned forward. "When exactly are you going to actually start planning your wedding? Because I have thoughts."

-==OOO==-

As soon as the last bell of the day rang, Ned was out of his seat like a shot. He scooped up his stuff and pretty much ran for his locker.

To be fair, everybody else was in a hurry, too.

It was Friday of the last week of regular classes before year-end exams; after today, they'd only have to attend school for a few hours in either the morning or the afternoon depending on which exams they were taking, and then only to actually sit for the tests. The AcaDec team was taking a break so they could all focus on finals, and all the other clubs and activities had wrapped up for the year, which meant there was nothing more keeping him or Peter at school for even one minute longer.

Ned threw everything from his locker into his backpack, jamming it all in until it fit and hoping he didn't crush the week-old banana against anything important. Then he made a bee-line for Peter's locker.

"Freedom!" he yelled as soon as he was close enough for Peter to hear him.

Peter turned from his own process of frantically unpacking his locker into his backpack, grinning. "Except for finals."

"Except for finals," Ned agreed, drawing up beside him. "But, still. That's, like, a small price to pay for not actually having to sit in classes until September."

Peter didn't respond; he had maxed out his backpack and was now trying to get his gym bag to close around a stack of spiral-bound notebooks. Maybe other students remembered to clean out their lockers gradually during the last week, but Ned and Peter were definitely not that organized.

"So," Ned said, "what are we doing to celebrate? Legos? Star Wars marathon? Or…"

"Or what?" Peter asked, bending a notebook to make it fit so he could zip it.

"I mean, not that I'm inviting myself over or whatever, but we could go hang at the Tower."

"Ned!" Peter's head shot up.

"What?" Ned glanced around. "It's fine. Nobody's listening. It's not like I said you were going to go hang out with Tony Stark."

"What's that, Leeds?"

Ned's stomach dropped to his toes.

Flash appeared out of the crush of students moving through the hallways. "Did I just hear you say Penis Parker is hanging out with Tony Stark?"

"Um, no," Ned tried.

Flash's eyes narrowed. "That's the most pathetic lie I've ever heard." He turned on Peter. "Even coming from you, that's a new kind of pathetic. Are you hoping somebody will overhear and maybe think you're less of a loser?"

"Go away, Flash." Peter tried to turn back to his bags, but Flash grabbed him by the shoulder.

"There's no way you deserve to breathe the same air as somebody like Tony Stark. If you did meet him, the best thing he could do for you would be to drop you off a tall building and save the rest of us the embarrassment of knowing you."

That went too far for Ned and he blurted something out without thinking. "Peter does too know Tony Stark! He's, uh…" And he stopped himself finally, but far too late.

Flash turned to Ned, but beside him, Peter's eyes were wide with fear.

Ned choked. He'd blown it. He'd admitted the one thing he swore never to say out loud to anybody and he'd said it to Flash and Peter was going to hate him forever and JARVIS was going to fry his phone.

"He's what?" Flash demanded. "Come on, this ought to be good."

Ned's brain was numb and silent.

But Peter came to Ned's rescue.

"I have an internship."

Ned and Flash both stared at Peter, who calmly shook off Flash's grip. Peter's expression was pinched, and Ned knew he wasn't happy with having to say this much, but it was the only way out and they were both awful liars and they had to do something or Flash would make it so much worse.

Flash looked like he had bitten into a gym sock. "You. Have an internship. At Stark Industries?"

Peter lifted his chin. "Yeah. I do. I got a summer internship." Then, his face bent and Ned could literally see a shadow of Tony Stark's biting sarcasm in it. "What, you didn't?"

Flash's face twisted and he seized Peter's shirt. "You are so full of crap, Parker."

Peter made a tiny smile. "I guess you have to think so, because otherwise I'm telling the truth and I think your head would explode."

Flash looked like he was about to lose his temper, but suddenly the cell phone in his pocket rang. Flash ignored it for a moment, then dropped Peter aggressively and backed up.

"Go have a pathetic weekend, Penis Parker. Don't even show up for your exams or you'll regret it." He turned to go, pulling out his phone.

Ned slumped against the locker. "Dude. I'm...I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Peter said. And when Ned looked up, Peter was smiling. "Actually, it's a great idea."

"What, an internship?"

"Well," Peter said, "it's not like I'm not there every day anyway. And I bet it would look good on my college applications, especially since I don't think I'm going to keep doing band and robotics next year."

"Good point," Ned said. "So, you're not mad?"

"I'm not mad. Just...let's not spread it around, okay?"

Ned sighed, relieved. "Deal."

They sealed the agreement with their handshake.

-==OOO==-

Clint was trying to figure out when he'd be able to go home.

"You don't have to stay," Nat told him for the millionth time that morning.

But Clint shook his head. "They're finally getting comfortable, both of them. And if me getting my ass handed to me in Mario Kart every day helps, then that's what I've got to do."

And Nat didn't argue, which was all the evidence he needed.

He missed Laura, Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel with a constant ache, and he hadn't been home since the UN bombing. Now it was getting close to the Fourth of July, and as he watched Stark run around preparing fireworks to shoot off with Peter, all he could think about was not getting to do the same with his own kids. About finding out what words Nathaniel was working on, and seeing if Lila had hit a growth spurt, and arguing with Cooper about how to grow his garden.

But as badly as he needed them, Wanda and Pietro still needed Clint more. They'd been at the Compound for less than three months and they were finally starting to come fully out of their shells and settle in. They'd been through hell — Clint knew that took time to recover from, and it also took structure and consistency in the environment and people who felt safe. He still wasn't sure how he had been designated one of their safe people, but he had been, and he took that responsibility seriously.

It had been the same with Nat way back when, although she had been older and more reserved about it.

So he played Mario Kart with Pietro and lost a lot. He cooked with Wanda now, banning both Pietro and Vision from the kitchen because everything they touched burned or turned brown somehow — especially things that were never meant to be any color close to brown. And when it was a quiet day and Wanda wanted to ask about specific SHIELD or Hydra information she had read, he answered. When Pietro wanted to voice frustration that they had been so thoroughly played by the very people responsible for all their pain, he listened. When others of the Avengers started trickling back to the Compound more frequently, Clint made sure to set up in the common room so they had him both as a buffer and shield.

At some point, he knew they would settle enough that he could walk away for a little while. They would be more comfortable with everyone and he wouldn't feel that pressure to be their surrogate big brother-slash-father-figure because they would be steady on their own. And then he was running back to Missouri for at least two months.

And when he got there, it might be time for him to have the retirement conversation with Laura for real for once.

He'd always be there if the Avengers needed him, but Clint was more than ready to hang up his bow except in an emergency. He had been in the game a long, long time, and with others now who could provide cover from a distance or offer perspective from a high vantage point, his unique skills were no longer exclusive.

It was a relief, honestly, to think about just going home and being the guy with the big farm who had a secret stashed in the basement and only brought out his world-saving skills when the world literally needed saving.

Nat opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped when Steve and Tony walked in.

"Is Peter around?" Tony asked.

Nat smirked at him. "Shouldn't you know? How would he even get here without a ride from you or Happy?"

"Sometimes when he tells May he's at his 'internship'," Tony made finger-quotes, "he comes to the Tower like usual. I mean, he mostly uses it so she doesn't catch onto him being Spider-Man, but it wouldn't be the first time he talked his way out here on his own, either."

Clint flinched. Just one time the kid hadn't gotten anybody to reply to his texts and actually stuck himself to the roof of a truck to ride out to Esopus. The ensuing yelling had been enough to convince him not to do it again, they hoped. Clint was just glad he hadn't hitchhiked the normal way — they might never have gotten Tony's blood-pressure to normalize.

"What about Ginger Spice and Speedy Spice?"

Nat, Clint, and Steve all gave Tony identical flat expressions.

"Wanda and Pietro are doing something with Vision down in the gym," Nat said. "They said they'd be back for lunch."

"What's this about?" Clint asked.

"JARVIS," Steve said, "have anybody who isn't in the same room with Wanda and Pietro come up here, please."

"At once, Captain Rogers."

Ten minutes later, Sam, Bucky, and Bruce wandered in. A little behind them came Rhodey in his wheelchair. He had the braces, version however-many-Tony-had-built, but they were tiring to use, and Clint privately thought that no amount of padding could ever really make them comfortable, so Rhodey chose the chair some days when that was better for him.

Rhodey actually had three versions of the mobility device — a standard, manual-push chair, a motorized chair, and a chair that went insanely way too fast which had been deactivated and locked in a lab after Sam almost accidentally rode it into a cement wall (Rhodey, being the sensible one, had refused to use it without a full War Machine armor to protect himself; Sam had volunteered to test it on his behalf and it had ended badly). Today he was sporting the manual chair, and Clint moved to the table and shoved a seat aside so there would be a spot for it. Rhodey shot him a smile as he settled in.

"What's going on?" Bruce asked.

"Technically two things," Steve said. "One has to do with the UN, but the other came up as we were on our way in here."

"Our friend Everett Ross, the non-asshole-Ross," Tony said, "sent us a coded message. He's been working with T'Challa lately and it sounds like something's gone seriously wrong in Wakanda."

"Can we do anything?" Sam asked. "Do they need us?"

"No." Steve shook his head. "Ross was very specific. This is an internal affair, and people coming in from outside will only make civil war more likely. But he wanted us on alert."

"Apparently," Tony said, "whoever is making a bid for T'Challa's crown thinks he's going to start a world war if he wins. If we see anything leaving Wakandan airspace, we need to get ready for a fight."

"Great." Clint sighed. "That's definitely how I wanted to spend a Tuesday. Worrying about weapons that come from the only place on Earth you can get Vibranium. Awesome."

"I assume JARVIS is already watching from orbit?" Rhodey asked.

"Yep. And since Ross implied they've got some kind of camouflage or refractive technology going on, I've got J scanning heat and infrared signatures, too." Tony shifted in his chair, then finally stood up and turned it around so he could straddle the seat and cross his arms on the back. "Personally, I'm putting my money on T'Challa. That guy is tough. But if JARVIS sees anything bigger than a crow heading our way, we'll get the alert."

"So be ready to go at any time," Steve finished.

"Does Ross know?" Bruce asked. "The other Ross."

"The bad one," Bucky added. Clint was glad to see him contributing a little more. He was apparently almost done with whatever Loki was doing to keep him from falling under Hydra's control again, and that return of agency was starting to bring out more of a personality in him.

Not that Clint thought the team needed any more snarky people, but apparently they were getting one anyway.

"I don't think so," Steve said. "And we're going to keep it that way for as long as we can."

"Great." Nat made a face that Clint mentally translated as 'I would give a lot for someone I could shoot right now.' "Not that I have an issue keeping things from the political powers at play, but at some point this is going to weaken our argument to the UN that they can trust us."

"Yeah, that's the other thing we have to talk about," Tony said.

"Apparently, Tony and Pepper and their lawyers got a look at Loki and Odin's initial proposal," Steve said.

"Written on literal, actual scrolls, let me point out," Tony said. "I was expecting runes, but it was in English. Advanced, unintelligible legalese English, but mostly English."

"How's it look?" Rhodey asked. "Not that I don't totally trust the God of Lies, but I don't trust him."

Clint snickered.

"Better than I expected, honestly," Tony said. "We can go through the details if you want them at this stage, but it's basically an agreement between Asgard and the UN to provide a standing force to defend the Earth against invaders and assist in keeping the peace as allowed by whatever nation needs it. It doesn't even specify that we would be that force, but says Asgard may employ any of its citizens as it sees fit for the purpose."

"So we all become Asgardian and suddenly we've got carte blanche." Rhodey frowned. "It can't be that simple."

"There's a lot in here that's not exactly nice," Tony said. "Some veiled threats to nations that don't agree to sign onto this plan, a few heavy reminders about intergalactic villains that would see the Earth as a tasty treat that only Asgard's alliance can keep out, stuff like that. It reads like a mix between a peace treaty and a protection racket."

"I guess I'm not surprised," Nat said. "I assume you'll have them tone it down before it goes before the UN."

"Oh, yeah." Tony gave a thumbs-up. "Also downplaying the whole Earth-as-a-protectorate bit as much as we can so we don't ruffle any nationalistic…planetistic…whatever-istic feathers."

"So what's the problem?" Bucky asked. "Steve, you're making that face."

Clint wasn't completely sure what face Bucky meant, but, caught out, Steve grimaced.

"Well, when Loki first explained the idea, it sounded so good I think we all missed the obvious drawback."

"Which is?"

"For this to work, we would all have to become citizens of Asgard, relinquishing our Earth citizenship." Steve swallowed. "If we become Asgardian, it means we're subject to whoever is running Asgard."

"Which means Loki." Tony looked around the table. "It'll mean Odin long enough to get everything signed on Earth, and then he'll probably swan off into retirement again and Loki will go back to being acting king."

"So." Bruce looked at his hands. "I mean, what kind of 'being subject to' are we talking about here? If Loki goes all murderous again, would we be stuck with it?"

"Probably." That was Nat. "From what I've been able to pick up from Thor and Loki and Odin, Asgard's an old-school monarchy. No parliament, not even a council of elders or nobles with much in the way of real power. Whoever sits on that throne has absolute control."

"So, now our choices are Ross, NATO, the UN, and Loki." Rhodey crossed his arms. "Gotta be honest, they all suck."

"At least with Asgard," Sam said, "we'd be able to do what we need to on Earth. And I really think Loki isn't what he was before. Not saying he couldn't backslide into a mess at a bad time, but he's not the monster we thought."

"Anything is better than Ross," Bucky said. "Ross isn't Hydra, but he's walking down the same road. And I should know."

Clint felt that one hit the table like a brick.

"Yeah, no arguments there." Tony ran a hand through his hair. "I guess it just comes down to a question of whether or not we trust Loki enough to put ourselves into his hands."

"With no advantage, nothing to bargain with," Steve said. "Just...trust."

And, suddenly, Clint slapped himself in the forehead. The crack of it was loud in the room and everyone turned to stare at him.

"I cannot believe I forgot." Clint looked around. "We do have something to bargain with."

Nobody else seemed to be catching on except for Nat, who smiled. "You're right."

"Loki owes me a boon," Clint explained to the remaining black faces. "From when he used the scepter on me. It's some kind of binding pact, definitely magical. He owes me 'anything in his power to give' were his exact words. Which could include our autonomy if we needed it."

"There's no way Loki doesn't remember giving that to you," Tony said.

"Doesn't matter. He can't take it back." Clint shrugged. "It means we've got an ace up our sleeve if stuff goes bad. Some way to force him to back off."

"Or to keep him to his word," Rhodey said. "Honestly, that's more pull than we have with NATO or the UN right now."

"Should we use it now?" Bruce asked. "Make sure the agreement goes the way we want it to before they even finalize it?"

"No." Steve shook his head. "It's a tactical advantage we need to hang onto until we really need it. If we use it now, then we'd have no recourse if Loki amended the agreement later."

"But." Tony fixed his eyes on Clint. "It means you'd have to be part of this. If you head home to Mizzou and things get hairy, you wouldn't be here to use your Get Out Of Jail Free Card for us. And." He sniffed, uncomfortable. "I know that's not what you wanted for your family."

For a guy who is dumb about so many things, he's sure sharp about people when he pays attention, Clint thought to himself. I would have said only Nat knows how close I am to being done.

"Yeah, I know." And Clint let his feelings show on his face for once. "Honestly, I was kind of figuring to use the boon if something went really bad and we needed to evacuate Laura and the kids to Asgard or something. But this...this is important." He let out a breath. "Important enough."

"Hey." Sam reached over and gripped his shoulder. "Maybe it won't come to that. We do have another ace up our sleeves." He smiled. "Peter."

"It's true," Nat said. "Loki cares about Peter more than the whole planet put together. I don't think he'd ever intentionally do anything to hurt the kid. And if Peter asked him for something, he'd probably give it even without the boon."

Clint could see the mixed feelings about that around the table. Even with the growing trust for Loki, the idea of putting Peter in the middle didn't sit well.

"Let's just...see how this goes," Rhodey suggested. "We're assuming the UN and every nation on the planet makes this agreement in the first place. That's a hell of an assumption. If that all works out, then maybe we read the field from there."

"But I like having a couple of options, even if one of them is trading on my kid," Tony said. "Hell, Odin has Peter calling him 'grandfather.' If we got in really hot water, maybe Pete puts in a call to Grandpa and he'll pull former-king rank."

"But only if there's no other choice," Steve said. "And hopefully it won't get to that point."

-==OOO==-

Peter fidgeted in his seat. "Are you...sure about this?" he asked.

"Would you rather run the risk of your little arachnid secret coming out in front of May and Teddy?"

Peter didn't bother to correct Mister Stark on Ned's name this time, and he couldn't poke him because Mister Stark was already out in his suit. "No, I guess not."

"Besides, I've got a special challenge for you." Even over comms, Peter could hear the smile.

Peter perked up.

It was his birthday, and again the Avengers had agreed to play a no-holds-barred version of capture the flag for him.

But this year, Mister Stark had changed the rules a bit. Rather than Peter and Ned captaining their teams on the ground, each one had a conference room (well, Ned had a conference room; Peter was actually in Mister Stark's favorite lab at the Compound) from which they would coordinate with their teams. The game was being played outside this year, roaming over the full property attached to the Compound, so Mister Stark's logic had been it would be easier for Peter and Ned to keep tabs on things this way.

Which was true for Ned, but not true for Peter.

On the other hand, Peter was desperate for May and Ned and Ned's parents not to find out about Spider-Man, so he'd agreed. But it still felt like being sidelined at his own birthday party.

"To make it a little more fair," Mister Stark said, "I'm having JARVIS support Fred's team — he promises not to spy on our team either through my suit or the lab. But I've got something for you in return. Activating the Buddy System Protocol."

"Good afternoon, Peter." The voice was female and surprisingly warm.

Peter jumped in his seat. "What? Who?"

"I am an artificial intelligence developed by Tony Stark dedicated to the individual known as Peter Parker. My current designation is K-1."

"K for kid," Mister Stark said. "JARVIS and I have been working on her for a while, but she hasn't really gotten a real-world test run yet. AIs take time to develop their full personality and decision-making matrices, so I thought this was a good chance for you to take her for a spin. She has access to the same sensors JARVIS does, but she lacks some of his insight. Working with you will help teach her how to interpret situations better."

"Wait." Peter blinked at the screen before him. "Did you seriously make an AI for me?"

"No, I made it for Barton. Of course I made it for you."

"Oh, wow." Peter couldn't help the big grin that spread across his face. "Thank you, Mister Stark!"

"You can't even call me Tony when we're teammates? I'm hurt, Parker."

Peter laughed.

"Now, seriously, I'm expecting you and K-1 to help us beat your buddy and his team into dirt. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And, kiddo?"

"Yeah?"

Mister Stark's voice went gentle. "Try to have fun. Someday you'll be out here swinging alongside us. In fact, I have it on good authority that Peter Parker is spending his next weekend at the Tower, so there's no reason Queens can't get its fill of its local Spider-Kid."

A knot in Peter's chest loosened. "That would be awesome. Thanks, padrino."

"Any time. Now, I'm opening up your comms to the full team, which includes May listening in, so watch it. You ready to lead us to victory?"

Mollified at the thought of being Spider-Man for a whole weekend, Peter found his enthusiasm again. "Let's do it!"

The following two hours were some of the wildest Peter could imagine.

It was harder than he thought keeping track of everyone on his team over the comms, even with K-1 to help him. He ended up pulling up holographic screens all around him from both the Compound sensors and cameras and from the various feeds he got from his team.

The teams had been shaken up from the prior year; Colonel Rhodes had opted out because he wasn't yet ready to go back to flying a suit, and Mister Hogan, May, and Ned's parents had bowed out given that they didn't feel up to chasing through a couple hundred acres of woods with literal superheroes. Doctor Banner and Miss Pepper had both opted to sit out as well.

That left Peter with Mister Stark, Vision, and Miss Romanoff to Ned's Captain Rogers, Thor, Mister Barton, and Mister Wilson. Which is why Peter's team now also included the Maximoff twins while Ned had Sergeant Barnes.

The hardest person to track was Pietro because no camera feed could keep up with him. And, unlike JARVIS, K-1 didn't have a good predictive model in her systems to guess where he was at any given point in time. So Peter mostly had to trust the former Hydra agent's choices blindly. But the teams were much more evenly balanced otherwise. Each had two fliers — Mister Stark and Vision versus Thor and Mister Wilson — and each had three enhanced people (or Asgardians).

With JARVIS helping Ned, though, Peter knew he and his team would be at a disadvantage.

So he got clever. All those sessions sparring with Loki had taught him more than some tricks in the air, after all.

"Hey, Vision?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"When you phase through objects, you can't carry anything in your hands, right?"

"That is correct. It does not pass through the object with me."

"What about if you held it in your mouth?"

"Peter, that's brilliant!" He could tell Miss Romanoff was grinning. "Vision, how about you take our flag down about two-hundred feet underground?"

And that's what they did.

Later, Ned would accuse Peter of cheating.

On the other hand, Ned had his team hide their flag in one of the Compound dumpsters where he was sure nobody would ever want to look. Which was fair.

Eventually Peter got K-1 to start scanning security footage until she spotted Mister Barton sneaking around with the flag and together they extrapolated where he'd gone after JARVIS conveniently shut down certain cameras.

Which was also cheating, Peter would point out later.

Pietro was the one who eventually ran to get Ned's flag and came back covered with garbage. So Peter and Pietro agreed that their version of cheating was fully justified.

Especially because they won.

With the game over and the teams making their way back into the Compound to the feast everyone else had been assembling, Peter paused in the lab.

"Hey, K-1?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Can you display your neural matrix for me?"

"Of course." At once, a render of a matrix appeared in the air, colored an icy blue. It wasn't as robust as JARVIS's matrix, and nothing like the Mind Stone, of course, but Peter smiled. Something about the shape felt right, even incomplete as it was.

"I feel kind of bad calling you K-1, you know," he said. "I think I should probably give you a name. Like…" His mind flashed back to the rampaging crush he had on the AcaDec team captain. "Like Liz." As soon as he said it out loud, he knew that decision was a bad one. "No, no that's weird."

Peter considered.

"Does your name have to be an acronym like JARVIS?" he asked.

"If you will forgive my interruption, young Sir," JARVIS said, "I feel confident that any name you give to K-1, if it does not begin as an acronym, will end that way once Sir hears of it."

Peter huffed. "Yeah, okay. Probably." He fidgeted. "Well, it should start with a K, because K-1. So…" Memories of childhood cartoons came back to him. "What about Karen?"

"You can call me Karen if you would like," K-1 said.

"As in 'I'd like to see your manager?' Seriously?" came Mister Stark's voice.

Peter spun to see the man entering and stepping out of his Iron Man suit. "No," he said, feeling defensive and a little embarrassed. "Like...it's from a cartoon."

"Dare I ask which one?" Mister Stark's face was lit with mischief, and a good deal of satisfaction which Peter assumed came from thoroughly outfoxing Captain Rogers two years in a row.

Peter sighed. "Spongebob."

Mister Stark threw back his head and laughed. "Yep, that works for me, Underoos."

"Are you really going to turn it into an acronym?"

"Definitely. K-1, amend identification protocols. Your new designation is Kid's Artificial Responsible Emergency Nanny. KAREN for short."

"Did you make that up on the spot?" Peter asked, impressed.

"I've got a lot of practice." He slung an arm around Peter's shoulders. "She needs a little more work, so when you're in any of the labs, call her up. She could use more socialization. And JARVIS says I'm not necessarily a good influence on an infant AI, which is just hurtful."

"Of all beings," JARVIS said, "I believe Vision and I are the ones with the most accurate perspective in determining your specific impact on the development of artificial cognition."

Peter snorted.

Mister Stark looked up at one of JARVIS's cameras. "Is that you trying to tell me I corrupt the innocent?"

"I believe, Sir, that we are very fortunate that the Mind Stone interceded with the birth of VISION."

"Traitor." Mister Stark was scowling, and it was taking literally all of Peter's willpower not to giggle in his face. "Traitors all of you," he said, looking at Peter, who was apparently not hiding his laughter very well after all. "KAREN, you love me, don't you?"

"I do not believe I have enough insight to assign that specific emotion to you, sir."

"But you love Peter?"

"Of course. You programmed me to," KAREN said.

"Well." And Mister Stark actually smiled. "That's fair. Besides, everybody likes Peter better than me."

"Not everybody," Peter immediately defended him.

"Nah, it's cool. I like you better, too," Mister Stark said. "Can't blame them for having good taste. Now, let's go. We have a victory to rub in Cap's...I mean, in people's faces."

Peter laughed. "And then you wonder why the media always talks about you two like you fight all the time."

"Well, we don't except when we do. It's complicated." But Mister Stark was still smiling. "Come on. I can hear your spider stomach rumbling from here. We have a double-sized cake, and Pepper may have accidentally ordered extra of everything that can mysteriously make its way to the Tower in case Spider-Man needs a snack throughout next weekend."

"You guys are really the best, you know that?" Peter asked. But before he let himself be drawn away, he turned back to the icy blue visualization still spinning slowly in the air. "Hey, KAREN? Thanks for helping me out today. It was nice to meet you."

"It was my pleasure. Thank you for giving me a name, Peter. I look forward to working with you again."

"Me, too." And he did. "Maybe someday we can incorporate you into one of my suits like JARVIS is in the Iron Man armor."

"Yeah, someday maybe," Mister Stark said.

Peter grinned. "That means yes," he translated for KAREN. "Welcome to the family."

Chapter Text

Ned was pretty sure his life couldn't get any better.

Peter Parker, his best friend, was the adopted son of Tony Stark. Well, neither of them called it that, but that's what it was. Or, close enough. Closer than anybody else could ever get.

And, yeah, Peter kicked his ass at his birthday again with his Avengers team, but Ned couldn't even be that mad. The Avengers all knew his name, and they talked to him like he was one of them when he was on comms with them. He had been on comms with the Avengers.

What even was his life anymore?

The only bad thing was that Peter wasn't around as often anymore. He explained that the 'Stark Internship' lie had turned into a real thing, that he was actually spending a bunch of time at Avengers Tower or the Compound building stuff with Tony Stark. Which, Ned realized, he'd been doing for a while, but now it was taking up more days than before. They still hung out throughout the rest of August, but only once every week or so instead of multiple days a week.

But Ned couldn't blame the guy. If Ned had the chance to build stuff for the Avengers in a lab with Tony Stark, he would be gone, too.

So he was relieved when they returned to school in September and things could go a little back to normal. They were in a lot of the same classes again, including gym this year, and they still had the same lunch period, so they had plenty of time together throughout the day. Ned got to watch Peter continuously stare at Liz in increasingly goofy ways; he hated that he now had a mental list of Liz's actual clothes because Peter was paying so much attention.

But Peter was there for Ned always, so Ned could deal with Peter being so love-struck he was a moron.

Apparently Michelle Jones thought so, too, but that was nothing new.

Unfortunately, the 'Stark Internship' lie was not something Flash had forgotten about over the summer, and he brought it up at every possible moment to try to make Peter's life more difficult. Some of the teachers even overheard about it, and Peter had to get May to call the school to explain and it was just...well, Ned felt bad for causing a mess even if it did work out okay for Peter in the end. At least he really had an internship.

But when Peter backed out of the AcaDec nationals trip, Ned got a little worried. He knew it wasn't like Tony Stark would be mad at Peter if he went on a school trip instead of hanging around the Tower or something.

(He didn't think Tony Stark could get mad at Peter ever.)

So Ned made sure to take the train to Astoria to visit Peter after school that day to see if he could find out what was going on. Besides finishing the Death Star together. That was a given.

"Hi Ned," May said when he knocked at the door. "That's a big box."

"I brought my new Lego Death Star," he said, carrying it carefully. Guarding it on the train had been a nerve-wracking experience. "Peter and I were going to finish it together."

"Oh, I see. Well, I'm working on dinner, but I think Peter's in his room. Go see if you can get his head out of whatever he's doing. He asked me not to disturb him, and he even put JARVIS on pause in his room or however that works." She smiled. "Honestly, I have no idea what goes on in his head sometimes."

"Me neither," Ned said. "Good luck with dinner!"

"Thanks!"

Ned made his way to Peter's room and tapped on the door before he let himself in. "Peter?"

The room was empty.

"Weird." Ned thought about heading back out to ask May about it, but then realized that Peter had made her think he was in here. If Ned blew it, that would be another secret he gave away. So he resolved to just wait. Maybe Peter had run down to the lab under the fake workshop and would be right back.

Ned messed around on social media for a little while; eventually he had to put his phone away before he ran down the battery. He gently pulled the Lego Death Star out of its box, cradling it gingerly in his hands. The frame was done, but that had been the hardest part. Still, he was thinking he'd put something in the wrong place because it had this weird protruding part and the Death Star was famously round so…

And then he realized that the window behind him was opening.

Ned turned in time to see a figure in a red and blue suit crawling on the ceiling.

Then the figure took off the mask and it was Peter crawling on the ceiling.

Ned stopped breathing.

Peter crawled all the way to the door which was still open a crack, shutting it softly.

When he turned, Peter's eyes went wide in surprise. Ned felt numb, and the Death Star tipped to the ground with a crash.

"What was that?" May called from the other room.

"Nothing!" Peter yelled, voice high and panicky. "It's nothing."

Ned found his voice. "You're the Spider-Man. From YouTube."

"No, I'm not!" He pressed the spider emblem on his chest and the suit deflated somehow, falling away and leaving Peter in his boxers.

"You were on the ceiling," Ned pointed out.

"No, I wasn't!" Peter yanked on his hair, but then he took a deep breath. "Oh my god, this is a disaster."

Suddenly Peter jerked in place and grabbed for the nearest pair of sweatpants. He yanked them on just before May opened the door. Behind her, Ned could see the tell-tale curl of smoke that meant May had, once again, failed to cook something.

He didn't really listen to whatever May and Peter said, discovering belatedly that he had agreed to go home instead of joining them for dinner out.

As soon as the door closed, he realized, "She doesn't know? How can she not know?"

"Because I didn't tell her," Peter said. "Nobody knows. Well. I mean. Mister Stark knows and he made my suit. And the Avengers know but…"

"So," Ned concluded, "the only people who don't know are me and May? Uncool." His chest flared with hurt.

"It's not...it wasn't about that," Peter said, looking upset. "It's not that I don't trust you. You know that."

"Yeah, I guess." Ned tried to push away the feeling. "Wait. Are you an Avenger?"

"Uh...basically? Not for big stuff but...I helped out."

"Wow."

"Ned." Peter got in his face. "You can't tell anybody. Not your parents or May. You gotta promise me."

"Why?" Ned asked. "If the Avengers know, why shouldn't May?"

"You know what she's like. If she finds out people try and kill me every single night, she's not going to let me do this anymore. Come on, Ned, please."

Suddenly Peter's phone began to ring. Peter groaned, then answered it on speaker-phone.

"Hey Underoos. You okay?"

"Hiya, Mister Stark. Yeah, I'm okay."

"You sure? 'Cause I just saw some pretty worrying footage from a bank heist a certain spider of my acquaintance broke up. With some pretty nasty-looking weapons."

"Yeah, that was...not fun," Peter admitted. "But I'm fine. You can even ask JARVIS."

"I concur," came JARVIS's voice from above. "Master Parker is unharmed but for superficial injuries which are already healing. I believe his current distress comes from the fact that Mister Leeds has discovered his secret."

"Jed, you're there?" Mister Stark asked.

"Uh." Ned cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"Okay, this has to go in your cone of silence, Leeds. You've done mostly good about me and Pete, and I'm counting on you to be smart about this, too. We don't need May freaking out at any of us right now."

Ned nodded even though he figured Mister Stark couldn't see it. "Yeah, totally. I get it."

"Good. Now, look, kid. We had a deal. I'm pretty sure ATM robberies were not on your approved list."

"Oh, come on, Mister Stark," Peter complained. "I was right there, and if they hadn't had those weapons, it wouldn't have been a big deal."

"Tony," Ned whispered, reminding him. Peter gave him a glare in return.

"Not up to you to decide what's a big deal or not a big deal," Mister Stark said. "Next time, you see something like that, you call me. We clear on that, kid?"

Peter sighed. "Fine."

"That's my darling, obedient, beloved child."

Peter made a face and turned furiously red. Ned tried not to snicker and failed.

"You sure you're okay, or do I need to drop by spontaneously?"

"I'm fine," Peter said. "May tried cooking, so we're going out for Thai."

"At least I know you'll get real food. Did you eat on patrol?"

"Yes."

"And you've got enough supplements in your room?"

"Ye-es." Ned could appreciate Peter's exasperation, even as he enjoyed how Tony Stark was such a dad about it.

"All right. I'll let you go, but I want the full report when you get back. Zed, play it cool or you'll never set foot in the Tower or the Compound ever again. Later, kids."

The call ended and Peter let out a breath and fell backwards onto his bed.

Ned, however, felt the dam that had held him silent break. "How does it work? Is it magnets? How do you shoot the strings?"

"Uh, not now. I'll tell you tomorrow at school, okay?"

Ned thought he might vibrate apart in curiosity, but managed to contain himself. Mostly. "How do you do this all the time and hang out with Tony Stark doing internship stuff?"

Peter blinked at him. "Half the time, being Spider-Man is the internship."

"Oh."

"Peter?" May called from the hall. "Thai food's waiting. Aren't you hungry?"

"Always," Peter called back, and Ned could hear how much he put into it. "Just let us finish cleaning up." He pushed himself up and knelt on the floor. "Sorry I ruined the Death Star."

Ned crouched beside him. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't nearly as cool as this. We'll build it some other time."

Together they put the pieces back in Ned's box. Ned was still bursting with questions, but he knew Peter well enough to identify that this was not the time to keep bugging him. Peter had said tomorrow at school, and Ned could wait.

Besides, that meant he had all night to think up questions.

-==OOO==-

The only good thing about gym class was that it offered ample opportunities to watch people in crisis.

MJ resented a lot of things about this school, and one of them was the uneven numbers of students by gender. For a progressive STEM school, there were still so many boys. At least in this gym class — statistically she thought the school overall was probably more balanced. Anyway, because high school boys were dumb, she didn't trust one of them to partner up with her for the stupid 'Captain America Challenge' or whatever it was called. So she took her book with her to lie on the mat and pretend to put in effort.

Coach Wilson was walking around, but he had learned by now not to bother with her. She didn't miss his exaggerated sigh as he passed her, though.

Whatever. Physical fitness was important for one's health, but literally nobody got fit in gym class.

Also, being on her own meant she had the opportunity to listen. Most people had no idea how to just quietly pay attention to the world around them. MJ had dirt on literally every single person in the school just from remaining unobtrusive in the background and observing and listening. Secrets, rumors, rivalries, insecurities, they all came out when someone thought they were only talking to friends. In reality, nobody in this school had ever really mastered what their kindergarten teachers would have called 'indoor voices.'

Which is how MJ overheard a bit of a weird conversation between Peter and Ned about being a 'guy in the chair' and random fanboying about the Avengers. Which was not a new topic for them, so she let it slide. Finding out that Liz had a crush on Spider-Man was new, but MJ could respect that. He was indie as far as superheroes went, throwing up a middle finger to the establishment and getting the job done. Of course, he was also only barely a hero at all and the clips of him online were half him being dorky or falling into things, but at least he was trying.

"Peter knows Spider-Man!"

MJ rolled her eyes even as she looked up along with everybody else. Did Ned even know how loud he was? The entire gymnasium was staring at Peter now.

Nice going, loser, she thought.

Ned wasn't a jerk, but he was regularly thoughtless. She liked him fine — he was chill about her doing her own thing, which was nice — but she thought he could try maybe not compensating for his social anxiety by putting Peter on the spot.

A spot Flash Thompson was more than willing to make as uncomfortable as possible.

Peter clearly thought so, too. He tried to downplay it, working on damage control.

"I'm not really supposed to talk about it," Peter said, glaring at Ned.

MJ snorted. If you didn't want the whole school to find out, why did you tell Ned in the first place, genius?

I guess that's what having friends means. Wouldn't really know.

And now Flash was making him pay for it. Flash Thompson was a jerk and a half, and MJ could ruin him any time she wanted; the only reason she didn't was because he did a pretty good job of screwing himself over all on his own and that was always entertaining. Also, most people thought he was an idiot. He might enjoy messing with Peter specifically, but nobody else really took him seriously.

In fact, of the people who cared at all, they thought Peter was kinda cool for putting up with Flash's trash all the time. Most of them wouldn't have.

Somehow this turned into an invitation for Peter to Liz's party, which MJ had already planned to attend just to see some of the class in more awkward situations than usual. She kind of hoped Peter didn't plan to show up, Spider-Man or not, though. His crush on Liz was literally painful to watch, and with Flash in attendance, it would just add up to a night of Peter being a target twice over.

Maybe she should warn him.

On the other hand, she still believed that someday Peter would put Flash in his place. He did it often enough at AcaDec and in class. And she lived for that day.

Well, however it turned out, MJ was sure to get a few good sketches out of it.

-==OOO==-

Peter was already regretting coming to this stupid party and he wasn't even inside the house yet. May had been in a mood the whole drive into the suburbs, and Ned was way too excited. Also, Peter would do just about anything never to have a conversation with May ever again about his body 'flowering.' That was just...nightmare fuel.

He knew, he knew this whole thing was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea to show up generally, and it was the worst idea to get Spider-Man involved. But here he was, standing in front of Liz's house, his suit on under his clothes, and the No-Seeing Eye open in his suit's inner pocket. He'd opened it at home before slipping into the suit, and he intended to keep it on the whole time.

On the plus side, that probably meant nobody would be able to film him as Spider-Man, or as anything else, really. So even if he made a huge fool of himself, nobody would have evidence of it.

But, really, it was because Peter couldn't stand for Mister Stark to know about it.

He understood the chance Mister Stark was taking on him. He did. To let Peter run around in the suit, to fight crime — albeit small, petty crime — without telling May, it was a giant extension of trust. Trust in Peter's good sense, in his decision-making, in his autonomy. Mister Stark was treating him like an adult, and he needed to prove he was worthy of it.

And showing up at a party as Spider-Man? Wasn't that.

But Ned had begged, and Peter owed him so much for keeping his secrets. So he was here, suit on, against his better judgment. He thought Michelle might have the right of it, depending on what she meant when she said she wasn't here. She was complicated and he just didn't have the brain cells to figure her out right now; he was too worried about everything else.

All of which he forgot about as soon as he saw Liz.

"What a great party," he managed to say. It was lame, but at least they were real words in a full sentence. That was better than some days.

But as soon as she walked away, Peter's regular thought process reasserted itself.

"No," he said. "I cannot do this. Spider-Man is not a party trick, okay? Look, I'm just gonna be myself."

Ned looked so disappointed. "Peter, no one wants that."

That hurt. Peter felt it burn in his bones. He knew Ned probably didn't mean anything by it, but it was hard enough just being Peter. Being the weird one. The orphan kid. The bully magnet. The one targeted by Hydra, and later by the Mind Stone. The one normal kid surrounded by the Avengers. And then, the kid hiding spider powers. Still the odd one out at every turn.

"Dude," he managed, turning away from Ned.

And then Flash Thompson started in on him with that 'Penis Parker' thing over a microphone complete with sound effects that had the whole house laughing at him.

Peter felt something snap inside.

He didn't want to be the good kid anymore. He didn't want to be the one worthy of the Mind Stone, or Mjolnir. He didn't want to be "better than all of us" the way Mister Stark always said it.

He wanted to be petty and mad. He wanted to show Flash up once and for all. He wanted to prove that he wasn't a waste, wasn't nothing.

He was angry and tired of being the punching bag of the world. And he couldn't really fight the world, but he could definitely prove something tonight.

So he shot Ned a look and ducked back out the front door, crawling up the neighboring house.

Of course, that moment of conviction waned as he actually slipped out of his street clothes and pulled his mask on. He tried to run his introduction to pump himself up.

"Hey, what's up? I'm Spider-Man. Just thought I'd swing by and say hello to my buddy Peter. Oh, what's up, Ned? Hey, where's Peter, anyways? He must be around…"

But he just...no matter how angry, no matter how badly he wanted to prove himself, he couldn't go through with it.

"God, this is stupid. What am I doing?"

And then he felt a shiver down his spine, turning in time to see a plume of blue light rising in the distance. The party, Ned, Liz, it all fell away.

"What the hell?"

And Spider-Man was off.

Well, mostly. The suburbs were not designed for Spider-Man, that's for sure. Running across a golf course with the sprinklers on was going on his mental list of worst ways to get around ever.

But, finally, he made it to where the explosion had come from and spotted a couple of absolutely wild-looking weapons and a deal going down. He had to get closer, maybe see if he could figure out where they were getting them. Then he could prove to Mister Stark that he really could handle bigger stuff than bike thieves.

But he misplaced a foot as he climbed and part of the overpass broke off under his weight and fell, interrupting the weapons guys in the midst of a discussion about something they called 'grav climbers.'

And Spider-Man's breath caught in his throat because the weapons guys turned on the guy they were trying to sell to. And he couldn't let them shoot him, even if he was trying to buy guns.

"Hey, come on. You gonna shoot at somebody, shoot at me!" he yelled as he dropped.

He didn't actually expect them to shoot with one of those crazy weapons and that hurt. But the bad guys scattered and the two with the weapons piled into their van and took off. And Spider-Man could only latch on and try to stop them.

Not actually his best plan ever.

After being bodily introduced to however-many mailboxes, bushes, parked cars, and fences, Spider-Man ended up running through neighborhoods trying to keep up with the van. He missed the city so badly. In Queens he wouldn't have to jump through a barbeque or crush somebody's shed or scare the crap out of kids in a tent. The suburbs were stupid.

But his enhanced senses let him unerringly follow the van no matter how many turns they made, and with Spider-Man's speed, even on the ground, he could keep up. Finally he got ahead of them.

He jumped at the van. "Surprise!"

Suddenly something cold and sharp grabbed onto him.

Spider-Man looked up into a monstrous face, wicked talons, and huge metal wings. For a moment, he thought it was Loki playing a trick on him.

And then he realized it wasn't.

And with that realization came another one.

He was in the suburbs. There was nothing high enough for him to web to. No skyscrapers or even just sizeable buildings he could reach. No way to help himself in the air. Whoever or whatever had grabbed him was carrying him higher and higher, and with every breath, Spider-Man was in more danger.

If he fought back, he'd fall. If he didn't, he'd probably get dropped and smash onto the ground below in a million pieces.

And even his spider powers wouldn't save him.

Spider-Man had gotten used to having to think fast with Loki, and he thought fast now. He reached into his inner pocket, his chest tight with terror.

And he snapped the No-Seeing Eye closed.

All at once, a parachute emerged out of nowhere on his back and ripped him from the grip that had already carried him thousands of feet in the air. But he was upside down, and he fell into it, tangling in the cords.

In all his time swinging, he'd never been so afraid of falling before.

He was falling so far down.

"Mister Stark!" he yelled, hoping JARVIS was listening on his phone. "Help!"

And Spider-Man crashed into water with enough force to shatter.

-==OOO==-

Tony was actually in India with Pepper this time, partially for official SI stuff and partially because a good business contact's daughter was getting married and they were invited. Tony knew Pepper and May were talking about weddings more often these days, and he decided this would be a useful opportunity to feel out some of Pepper's preferences.

They both knew he was going to try to put his own spin on the wedding somehow — it was in his nature. But he really, really didn't want to get it wrong on their big day. So, research.

The day's events were nearly finished and Pepper was off doing something with the bride — maybe life advice, maybe hair tips, who knew? — when the warning beep came from JARVIS along with a flashing indicator in his glasses.

"Sir, Spider-Man is in danger. I have released the evac suit."

Tony's heart turned to ice and lurched into his throat. "Give me a visual from the suit, now!"

He barely noticed stepping away from people as JARVIS patched the live feed from the Spider-Man suit through to his glasses. But all he could see was darkness.

The readings, however, showed Peter losing altitude rapidly. He was in free-fall.

"Throw out a web!" Tony yelled, even though the kid couldn't hear him.

"He cannot," JARVIS said. "Spider-Man is currently falling above Jamaica Bay."

Tony swore. "ETA on the evac suit?"

"Twenty seconds."

He knew that it wouldn't be fast enough. It wasn't.

When Peter hit the water, Tony jolted in place as if he had been slapped. He could hear the sound of the strike.

"JARVIS," he said, mouth dry, "injuries?"

"The suit distributed much of the force of impact, but readings indicate that Spider-Man has suffered several cracked ribs, a fractured humerus, and a significant concussion. He has also lost consciousness and is beginning to aspirate water."

Tony had to lean on a pillar, shaking. "How long…?" he asked, terrified.

"Four seconds to contact by the evac suit," JARVIS said. Then, "I have him."

"Where's Bruce?" Tony asked. "Get him to Bruce."

"Doctor Banner is at the Tower along with several other Avengers. I will alert them to expect Spider-Man in the med bay shortly."

Suddenly the feed from the suit started to jerk erratically. "J, he's choking. Get him out of the suit on solid ground, now."

"At once, sir."

"Switch me to visual from the evac suit," Tony said. "And let Pepper know that we gotta go."

Apparently JARVIS had set the kid down in some kind of deserted playground, propped up against a dome-shaped climbing thing. Peter pulled his mask off, coughing up water and holding one arm tight to his side.

"Kiddo?" Tony said, knowing JARVIS would patch him through. "You with me?"

"M-mister Stark?"

His kid's teeth were chattering and Tony felt like breaking something. His child should never sound so scared, or be so cold and hurt and alone. "J, activate the kid's heater."

Immediately, Peter's face eased. "That helps. Th-thanks."

"Easy, figlio. I'm here. Kinda. You know."

Peter nodded, still coughing. "How's India?"

"Great for the ten minutes we'll be here before I can get my jet up and running."

"You don't." Peter coughed again, wrapping his unfractured arm around his middle. "You don't have to leave just for me."

"I know you're smarter than that," Tony said. "Just breathe with me, Pete. You know the drill."

"Yeah."

For a few minutes, Tony just counted out breaths and watched his kid deal with his pain. He also watched the suit as it monitored Peter's status. Already, Peter's spider-healing was kicking in and doing its job, and even the fractured arm would probably be whole by morning. The knot in his chest started to loosen slightly.

"Thanks," Peter said finally. "For saving me again."

"Thank JARVIS," Tony said. "He's the one who launched the suit."

"I am gratified that you are safe, Master Parker," JARVIS said.

"Me, too," Peter said, sounding small.

"So, what happened?" Tony asked. "How did you go from zero to terminal velocity?"

He listened as Peter explained about the party and seeing a weird explosion and everything after, torn between pride at his kid for stepping into something so fearlessly and fury that his kid had put himself in that kind of danger.

And a whole other level of fury for whoever had dared drop him from the sky like that.

"You know I gotta ask, kid. What were you thinking?"

Peter's face immediately screwed up in teenage indignation. "The guy with the wings is obviously the source of the weapons. I gotta take him down."

"Take him down?" Tony repeated. "Peter, that's not what we agreed on. This is way above your head."

"It's not," Peter said, sticking out his chin. "I can do this."

"Peter Benjamin Parker, I am not having this argument with you," Tony said. "Forget the flying vulture guy, please."

"Why?"

"Because I said so!" Apparently Tony said that too loudly, because a woman looked over at him. "Talking to a teenager, you know how it is," he said to her.

Peter was scowling at the evac suit.

"Look," Tony said more calmly. "I just don't want you to get hurt. We agreed you'd stay close to the ground, do your friendly neighborhood schtick. Right?"

"You agreed," Peter said sullenly. "I'm ready for more than that."

"No, you're not."

"Would you still be saying that if I wasn't your kid?" Peter asked.

Tony felt that one in his chest.

He sighed. "Yes. I would be saying that about any fifteen year-old doing what you're out there doing. Okay? It's not just me being overprotective. I promise."

Peter looked a little convinced, and Tony knew he'd have to have this conversation again, and probably soon. Preferably after he hunted down whoever tried to kill his kid and tore their wings off...and a few of their limbs while he was at it.

"Now," Tony said, "if you're feeling like you can handle a helmet for a little while, Bruce is waiting for you at the Tower to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," Peter said.

"You have multiple cracked and one broken bone and a concussion that could lay out an elephant," Tony said. He swallowed. He had to maintain his composure. Reciting those injuries, knowing that he'd see bruises on Peter's skin, it made him sick to his stomach.

Peter sighed. "Can I at least go back to the party for my clothes? I can meet one of JARVIS's cars at Liz's house."

Tony didn't like it. He wanted his kid in the Tower now where Bruce and half the Avengers could keep an eye on him until he and Pepper got back. But he also didn't want to push Peter away. He needed to keep the lines of communication open between them, and he needed to give Peter his trust. Otherwise, he was worried that the next time the kid went toe-to-toe against evil weapon-dealing assholes, he wouldn't call for help.

"Okay," he said. "I can live with that compromise. But clothes and straight to the Tower. Deal?"

"Yeah." Peter rubbed at his nose. "I'm sorry for worrying you, padrino."

"Oh, kid." Tony sniffed. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"You had to save me again."

Tony smiled in spite of himself at how put-out Peter sounded. "And I always will, Underoos. That's the promise I made."

"Yeah, well. I'm looking forward to when I get the chance to return the favor."

Privately, Tony hoped that would never, ever happen. His kid should not have to be the hero for as long as there was breath in Tony's body. But he just made himself smile. "I'll grant you at least a week of bragging rights if it ever happens."

That made Peter smile back. "Two weeks."

"You drive a hard bargain, Mister Parker. Now, JARVIS is going to monitor you. The car should already be on its way. You're okay to walk back to your party house?"

"Yeah." Peter stood, gingerly, but with pride. "I'm good."

"Okay. Pep and I will be back at the Tower as fast as my non-Quinjet can get us there. If Bruce wants you to stay the night, make sure you tell May where you are so she doesn't freak out. You good making up a story for her, or do you need me to call?"

"I got it. Thanks, though."

"Okay. If we don't make it before you're supposed to be back at school tomorrow, I want to see you right after class lets out. Got me?"

"Yes, Mister Stark."

Tony didn't need the visuals from the evac suit to know Peter was rolling his eyes. He smirked.

"Okay. Well, that's all the responsibility I can take for now. I'm leaving you in JARVIS's capable virtual hands. J, take care of my kid. Pete, see you soon."

"Tell Miss Pepper I'm sorry for ending the trip early," he said. "See you tomorrow."

Tony didn't want to end their conversation, but Peter was already putting his mask back on and turning to walk up the path, so he cut the connection.

"JARVIS, promise me you'll keep an eye on him."

"Of course, sir. I will monitor Master Parker and ensure he reaches the Tower safely. If there is any change in his condition, I will alert you and Doctor Banner at once. And I will keep the evac suit in the area, just in case."

Tony sighed. "I wish I knew if I was doing the right thing here. The books are not kidding that parenting is hard. And parenting a super kid? Impossible."

"Unfortunately, I have no useful advice to offer, sir. However, most sources agree that maintaining trust and honesty between the child and parent are of paramount importance, and you are doing that as well as can be expected."

Tony ran his hands over his hair, spotting Pepper hurrying towards him.

"I hope so, J. Because if I screw this up, my kid's the one who's going to get hurt."

And that was something Tony's heart just couldn't take.

Chapter Text

Natasha sat at the table, maintaining a simple calm expression that was equal parts polite and patient. It was an easy resting position to hold, one she could keep without breaking for hours at a time. She'd most often used it when playing politics games, and today was no exception.

At least today she was surrounded by people who were less likely to try stabbing her in the back, figuratively or otherwise. Given the choice, Natasha would deal with Loki any day — he was a significant improvement over regular politicians. At least he had a sense of humor, warped as it was.

"On behalf of the Avengers," Steve said, "we would like to offer you both our gratitude for being willing to involve yourselves in our problem."

Beside Loki, who was smirking, Odin inclined his head with a regal air. "Midgard remains a protectorate of Asgard, so your problems are ours. This particular battle is one better fought with wisdom and words than blades and fists. A favorable outcome benefits us all."

"I've read over everything three times," Tony said. "And my smartest international lawyers have been sleeping with their copies, I think. As far as we can tell, this is completely legal, binding, and enforceable according to multinational law."

"Laws may vary from realm to realm," Loki said, "but all can be persuaded with logic and rhetoric."

"Both skills you possess, brother," Thor said.

Nat appreciated that Thor was trying harder these days to be openly welcoming to Loki. Maybe the various family dramas that played out during the thing with the Mind Stone were finally paying off. Certainly they'd had some level of impact on Thor's perception of his adopted brother.

Nat's present assessment of Loki was almost a complete shift from the being she had met in 2012 aboard the helicarrier. There was no denying that Loki would always, given the opportunity, make trouble for others for his own amusement. That was a part of his nature as unchangeable as Clint's hard head or Tony's mechanical brilliance. But there was little in Loki's character that was truly malicious.

Except maybe against threats to Peter Parker. And Natasha could live with that.

There would always be some aspects of Loki that even she would struggle to predict. He was a god of chaos, and thus defied predictability by definition. Today he might make a choice, and tomorrow he would make the opposite, and never would he see either as a contradiction. And yet, amidst that vacillation, there were elements in common.

When not under the control of Thanos, Nat had realized that Loki played rather the part of the mythical court jester — one who can stand in the seat of power and challenge its very stones because they did it as an act of entertainment. But Loki could rule, too, even if more often he seemed to be the default problem-causer and problem-solver of Asgard. Loki, Nat now understood, had defined himself by fitting into the cracks in his society. Asgard lacked irreverence and mischief, and so he became them. It lacked a black sheep, and he embraced it.

And Natasha had never seen a case of a younger sibling acting out as an opposite to their older sibling that was clearer or more obvious than Loki and Thor, honestly.

But that was a good thing in this case. Because Thor had all the subtlety of one of Tony's entrances and the tact of Clint drunk on bad vodka. And they needed subtlety and tact to pull this off.

"Do you have any last changes you want to make?" Rhodey asked, shuffling through papers himself. "Or, no offense, but is there anything in here that says one thing but we should know means something else?"

"Offense not taken," Loki said, visibly amused.

That was an extension of trust from Rhodey that Nat could only respect. Tony was usually inclined to trust Loki because Loki had helped Peter out, but Rhodey was typically cautious in return. Another brother dynamic, albeit different.

"The language, while formal, is not meant to conceal anything we have not already discussed," Odin said.

"I note," Vision put in, "that the clause for defense is written vaguely. Can I assume that, should Asgard find itself in danger, we as agents of Asgard upon Earth might be summoned to assist?"

"It is a possibility," Loki said. "Any threat great enough to warrant your involvement on Asgard would by definition pose a threat to Midgard as well. I should think you would choose to aid us in return."

Nat felt the vague threat in that, and yet she couldn't disagree with it. Asgard's security was important to their alliance, and if something was bad enough to threaten it, Earth would be inherently at risk as well.

"We would," Steve said, nodding, "but we'd want to be sure we didn't leave Earth unprotected, either."

"A reasonable precaution," Odin said.

"Also, we need to move the official Avengers headquarters to the Compound and declare it Asgardian sovereign territory," Tony said. "I can keep a residence in the city, but I don't want to tie up SI in this. Plus, commuting back and forth from Asgard is a pain given the JFK and LaGuardia flight paths. Nobody will appreciate your little light show interrupting take-offs and landings."

"Will moving out here be a problem?" Sam asked.

"Nah." Tony waved a hand. "Just means I need to relocate a bunch of equipment sooner rather than later — stuff I want to keep in my sovereign territory. Well, it'll give Happy something to do. JARVIS, get him on it, will you?"

"Of course, sir."

Natasha was keeping a portion of her attention on Tony, too. After the scare a couple of days ago with Peter, he was putting up a good front, but she knew better than to take it at face value. Tony was starting to deal with the reality of his kid being on the front lines of crime-fighting in the city, and the risks that came with it. She knew that the sooner they resolved this UN situation, the easier it would be for Tony to focus on protecting Peter.

And also on handling the weapons dealers selling stuff made from leftover alien parts, which was a whole other worry. But with the mess on the international stage that was doomed to get worse before it got better, the Avengers just couldn't move openly. They could offer their resources, but they needed to sit back and not stir up any new trouble. Tony had been forced to coordinate with SHIELD and the FBI on the weapons thing, and he was hating it.

"Tony, what happens with SI?" Bruce was asking. "Is it going to be okay if you give up your citizenship?"

"There's nothing really in the bylaws about citizenship to another planet," Tony said, "but I've always had dual US-Italian citizenship anyway. Pep's already working on amending the holdings. By the time I have to put my hand on the Asgardian Bible, it'll be fine."

"And Peter?" Loki asked. "Will he still be able to inherit your domain?"

Nat snickered as a few folks around the table looked at Tony in surprise and the rest just shook their heads. Anyone who hadn't figured out that Tony was giving SI to the kid had not been paying attention. Although Nat would lay her money that Peter and May didn't know — they were adorable like that.

But Tony met Loki's face without discomfort. "I don't even want to know how you know about that," he said, "but yeah. SI still goes from me to Peter, even if he's in this Asgardian deal with us. And anybody wanting to fight me on that is going to regret it."

"I'm sure," Odin said, smiling. Loki was smiling, too, but with a lot less magnanimity.

"What about Peter's legal guardianship?" Rhodey wanted to know. "Does that still apply?"

"Yeah. The state requirements have to do with residency, not citizenship. Shouldn't be an issue."

"It most assuredly would not be an issue with you both standing as Asgardian citizens," Loki said. "The Spider-Child will be recognized as yours by our laws the instant you swear fealty."

Tony's face quirked at that, and Nat could tell he still wasn't completely sold on swearing loyalty to Loki. She could understand that. She was Russian once.

Nat knew better than most how much — and how little — a pledge of loyalty could matter, and she knew this one would be easier to break than most. To her, becoming an Asgardian citizen was no more of a concern than taking on a new alias.

Her true loyalty would never be given in an oath, and never to something as changeable as a regime.

"What else do we need to cover?" Nat asked, breaking her quiet character.

"We've got the citizenship requirements figured out," Steve said, ticking things off on his fingers. "The language passes Tony's legal team's muster, and the people you talked to were cautiously on our side, right?"

Nat nodded. Assuming when Steve said 'people you talked to,' he really meant 'people whose arm she could twist with a smile and they would fold like a newspaper.'

"We've got time scheduled with our closest allies to present the plan ahead of going fully public," Steve said, still counting. "And T'Challa agreed to support us?"

"Yes." Sam nodded. "But he's not going to sign onto the deal himself. Hard to be the king of Wakanda when you're an Asgardian. So he's going to keep the Black Panther under wraps."

"There is still the matter of the Maximoffs and Bucky," Vision said. "Both as citizens of Earth and their potential as Avengers."

Steve actually paused and looked at Tony. "I think...I think this has to be your call, not mine."

Nat was unreasonably proud of him. Letting go of that amount of control over the team was hard, and very necessary. When it came to Bucky Barnes and his history as the Winter Soldier, letting Tony take the reins was a gift.

She hoped he knew that.

Tony took a deliberately deep breath.

"I'm good with Wanda and Pietro," he said. "They got dealt a bad hand, but they seem to be willing to make up for it. I can respect that. If they want in on the Asgardian Avengers party, that's fine."

But he stopped, glanced away.

"Tony," Rhodey said, softly, almost an invitation.

Natasha could feel the tension in the room mounting as Tony didn't make eye-contact with anyone.

Finally, Tony looked up.

"I'm not there yet with Barnes," he said. "But he fought for us in Siberia, and he played in Pete's birthday game. He's not...he's not what I thought he was."

"I think maybe he's not what he thinks he was," Bruce said softly.

"You would know," Tony said. He cleared his throat and met Steve's eyes. "Before Bucky becomes an Avenger, I've got two non-negotiable conditions."

"Okay," Steve said, still not pushing.

"First, I want to make sure he gets some serious counseling. I want to make sure he's making this choice out of the right place. I dunno which would be worse — him fighting because he wants to play some kind of revenge game, or because he feels like he doesn't have a choice. Neither is gonna fly."

"That's fair," Sam spoke up. "I completely agree."

Steve nodded. "I do, too. What's the second point?"

"I still want to reengineer what Hydra did to him to support that arm before he suits up." Tony's eyes glittered. "Did you realize that even putting that arm straight up, like to screw in a lightbulb, can cause hairline fractures in the collar-bone on the other side? Yeah, he fights through it, but he's in pain all the time. And that's not...we don't put people on the field when they're hurt unless the world is ending."

Natasha was surprised and not too proud to let it show. "Not what I expected you to say," she told him.

"Hey, I'm not a monster," Tony said, scowling at her. "Take it from the guy who fought aliens with shrapnel in his chest. It's not a good feeling. Nobody should have to go through it."

"Do you really think you can help him?" Steve asked. And the hope was writ large on his face.

Tony nodded. "Bruce and Helen and I already mocked up a couple of things. The surgery will be tricky and we'll have to do it in phases so his body can adjust. But yeah. We learned a lot from building Vision. And we've got literally infinitely better tech than they had in the forties when they installed that monstrosity. We can do it."

"Okay." Steve's face was shining. "Assuming Bucky agrees to both, he's in. Everybody else okay with that?"

The table was all nods and even some smiles.

"Well." Sam was grinning. "Should we take a break and grab some food before we dig into the weeds of this mess?"

"Sounds good to me," Clint said. He'd been pretending to sleep in the corner, but Nat knew better.

"Like you've been doing any work up to this point," Rhodey said.

"Tony," Vision said, "you should know that Pepper asked JARVIS to alert her as soon as we finished. I believe she is concerned about something."

"You being plugged into your parent AI is still weird, you know that?" Tony asked. But his body language had shifted to the tension Nat associated with him being ready to summon a suit and take off at the slightest provocation. "J, what's up?"

"Tony?" Pepper spoke from the speakers. "I didn't want to interrupt because I know how important this meeting is, but…"

"We're taking five for snacks. What's wrong?"

"Well, I got a news alert that Peter's school just won the national Academic Decathlon competition."

"That's great!" Rhodey cheered. Then, "Why do you sound not happy about it?"

"Tony," Pepper said, and her voice was controlled, but Nat could hear the worry. "Peter wasn't there."

"He what?" Tony was on his feet. "What do you mean?"

"According to the pictures, he wasn't on the stage with his team at any point today. The alternate had to participate. I had JARVIS take a look, and he isn't on the sign-in sheet either. He just…"

"JARVIS, track Peter's phone."

"I am unable to locate it."

"That's impossible." Ignoring the rest of the room, Tony pulled up a holographic screen to look at the information himself. "What about his watch?"

"It is not on my network."

"When's the last time you had a signal from him, JARVIS?" Steve asked.

"Approximately ten o'clock last night."

"Why didn't you alert us that he'd disappeared from your sensors?" Tony demanded.

JARVIS was silent.

The entire Avengers team froze at that.

"J?" Tony pressed.

"Sir, you may need to examine my processors. I have no explanation for the situation."

"I am afraid," Odin said, "that I may be responsible for this lack of insight."

"Father," Thor said. "How is this possible?"

Nat drew in a slow breath. A lifetime of training had heightened her instincts and she knew when to trust them.

And her instincts told her that this was going to be a problem.

But before Odin could say another word, JARVIS interrupted.

"Sir, Spider-Man has been spotted in Washington DC responding to an explosion at the Washington Monument. He is being pursued by the Capitol Police. They have orders to fire on him if he does not stand down."

And that feeling? That was Natasha's instincts confirming that things had just gone from bad to worse.

-==OOO==-

Bruce was still trying to decide if he thought it was an overreaction for effectively the entire Avengers team to jump into a Quinjet to fly to Washington. Well, Vision stayed at the Compound with the not-officially-Avengers-yet trio, and Odin disappeared to wherever he went when he did that. But Loki had joined the team in the 'jet, apparently as a stand-in for everybody to blame.

At least, that's what was happening.

Bruce sighed to himself.

Probably they should have seen this coming. Now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't believe it had never, not once, occurred to anybody to wonder how Peter was able to sneak around as Spider-Man without JARVIS noticing it for however-many months. It was such a huge omission, it should have set off every red flag in every system attached to him, and in the brains of every member of the team.

Except — magic. Magic that hid itself and, somehow, kept itself from being thought about too much.

Tony was absolutely pissed, and Bruce couldn't blame him. What would have happened if Peter needed help but JARVIS couldn't see him? What if he was in danger?

It explained why nobody had known Peter was in trouble the other night until he was hurtling towards a body of water from thousands of feet in the air. And Bruce was proud of Peter for thinking to shut off the whatever-it-was and ask for help, but he shouldn't have had to do that.

By the time the Quinjet touched down on the National Mall, security forces were swarming everywhere. Steve had put on his uniform on the 'jet, so he marched up to the nearest group of officials and asked for an update; throwing around his authority as a national icon always made it easier for the team to get themselves involved absent any official orders.

Even though this was precisely what they were trying not to do — get involved in things that could cause more attention and momentum to the 'rein in the Avengers' refrain.

But since they were showing up more to help manage the aftermath, Nat said she thought it would be okay. They'd be more of a footnote on the scene, and they could even stay out of the official press statements.

It's not like we weren't going to come anyway, he thought. It's Peter. If it landed us in the biggest political scandal of the century, we'd still come.

Meanwhile, the rest of them stayed in the 'jet for now, trying to figure out how to find Peter.

"I can't get anything on his phone or his suit," Tony growled. "And there's no footage from inside the Monument because of that same damn thing so we can't even see what really happened."

"Social media suggests that there was an explosion in the elevator and it nearly fell, only to be caught by Spider-Man who evacuated the students," JARVIS said. "But he retreated down the elevator shaft after ensuring their safety and has not been seen since."

"I'm not excited about an explosion inside the Monument or this close to the White House," Rhodey said. "I'm going to check in with the Secret Service to make sure they've got everything locked down."

Bruce appreciated Rhodey's ability to look at the bigger picture. On the other hand, with Capitol Police swarming, he felt fairly certain that the might of the United States military infrastructure was more than ready to step in to defend against threats. And Steve was out there, too. But only they could take care of Peter.

"I could search from the air," Thor offered. "For either Starkson or any possible threat to your rulers."

"Let's hold off on rushing out to circle the wagons too much," Nat advised. "Anything that even smells like an attack will have people on high alert already. Our presence doing anything but cleanup is an escalation we don't want to risk if we can help it."

"Thor is an escalation all by himself," Loki scoffed at him. "As for the boy, trust me, Starkson will not be eager to be found. The more obvious we make our presence, the more likely he will retreat into hiding."

"Can't you find him?" Sam asked. "Use your magic something?"

"I could." Loki crossed his arms.

"Well? Do it!" Tony was yelling now, and Bruce wasn't sure if it was because he was worried or if it was because he was still mad about the whole Asgardian magic cloaking thing.

"I want a guarantee before I assist you."

Tony's eyes went wide, but Rhodey put a hand on his arm. "Not sure this is the best time to test our patience, Loki," he said mildly.

"You have little patience, and thus this is the only time to test it," Loki replied.

"What do you want?" Nat asked him, focusing on him. Beside her, Bruce could see Clint watching just as carefully.

"I will lead you to the Spider-Child, but I wish for you to swear to two assurances. First, that you will not remove the enchanted item from him. It was a gift from Odin and that deserves to be respected."

Bruce could see Tony winding up to argue, but Clint raised a hand. "What's the second?"

The look on Loki's face was hooded, and it made Bruce pause.

"I understand that as a parent, you must ensure compliance to your orders. But I will not allow you to harm the child in your discipline."

You could have heard a pin drop in the Quinjet.

Bruce's heart went out to him, suddenly. He knew that expression, that uncertainty. And given what they knew about Loki now, about how he'd been ostracized, about how poorly Odin had handled Thor's own bullying of his brother...it made Bruce's feelings run deep. Not towards the Hulk — the Hulk didn't usually answer to grief and sympathy, after all.

Clint coughed. "Loki…"

"Nobody." Tony's voice was shaking. "Nobody will hurt my kid. Especially not me."

Loki's head came up, challenging. "I know your type of anger, Stark. Perhaps you would not raise a hand to the child. But, as he has reminded me, there are different kinds of hurt."

"Loki." Sam's posture was suddenly open and soft in the brittle atmosphere. "Thank you for being worried about Peter. It shows how much you care, and I appreciate that. I think it helps us to remember how much he's been through."

Loki gave him a short nod in response.

"Brother…" But Thor didn't seem to know how to finish whatever he started to say and he looked away.

Tony drew in a breath that shuddered through his frame. But he stood and faced Loki.

"I can't promise that feelings won't be hurt," he said. "I need to make Peter understand that this...this can't happen again. And he's not...some kids can let this stuff just roll off them, but Peter's not one of them."

Tony swallowed.

"It's not my intent to hurt him, ever. It's my intent to keep him safe, by whatever means I have to use. I'd rather disappoint him now than run the risk of losing him."

Loki stared at Tony for a moment, then let out a breath of his own.

"I believe that is the best I can expect of you. Very well. But we must pass unobtrusively. Or would you like to continue to complicate your political situation?"

Bruce appreciated the mix of attempted humor and realism in the face of everybody's heightened emotions. Tony obviously didn't, but that didn't mean Loki wasn't right about it.

"He's right," Nat said. "Most of us should stay here with Cap and quietly investigate exactly what went on here today. Loki, how many people can you conceal with your illusions?"

Loki peered at her. "Including myself, four."

Bruce would eat his shoes if that was true, but apparently nobody felt like arguing about it.

"Fine." Tony glanced around the room. "Me and Bruce for sure."

Bruce nodded, understanding that Tony wanted him in case the kid was hurt.

Clint caught Bruce's eye. "Take care of them," he warned. His facial expression was tight, worried.

"I'll go with you, too," Sam offered. "Everybody else is better at liaising with people on the ground here or distracting folks anyway."

"Good. Great. Let's go." Tony was fidgeting with something and Bruce realized he had a pair of the newer gauntlet bracelets on.

He didn't sigh, but it was a near thing. Bruce wondered if Tony would ever react to stressful situations without immediately bracing for an attack. It was his default behavior, engrained so deeply it might never change. To a certain extent, that made Bruce a little sad for him, that Tony would always be on the edge of feeling like he needed to protect himself or others.

On the other hand, it's not like it wasn't a valid precaution most of the time.

Loki did something and Bruce felt the slightest pressure of air settle around him. It was strange, but not uncomfortable. He didn't see anything differently, nor did anyone else react as if the four of them had just gone invisible, but he had faith that Loki knew what he was doing with his illusions and decided not to stress about it.

"This way."

Loki led the way out of the Quinjet, and no one so much as looked over at them.

"Can they hear us?" Tony asked as they approached where the Capital Police had set up a perimeter.

"No," Loki said. "I am no amateur, Stark."

Behind them, the rest of the Avengers must have piled out of the 'jet because suddenly everyone's attention was focused elsewhere. It was weird to elbow around people and duck through the gathering crowds without anyone seeming to notice they were there. Bruce wondered what it would be like to live like this — invisible, no different from any other random stranger. It might be more peaceful.

But definitely more lonely, too.

After they got away from the National Mall, they moved more quickly.

"Wouldn't he just go back to the hotel?" Sam asked. "I mean, that's logical, right?"

"Logical," Tony agreed, "but Mister Wizard over here is leading us the opposite way from where the team was staying."

There was nothing to say to that but to follow Loki.

Bruce wouldn't say he really knew one neighborhood of DC from another, but the Dupont Circle area had pretty distinctive row houses and shady, tree-lined streets, which made for a pleasant walk — even if he had no idea why Peter would come this way. But Loki moved deliberately, finally heading to a secluded house with an attached garage.

"In here."

"JARVIS?" Tony said. "Got anything?"

JARVIS's voice came from Tony's watch. "This house appears to be a rental which is currently vacant. The garage door is attached to the rental company's app."

"Which means Peter's suit could override it," Sam guessed.

But Bruce frowned. "I thought the whole problem was that the...whatever the thingy is that Odin gave him, it makes it impossible for computers to work right around him. So, how could his suit do anything to help him?"

Loki huffed. "Let us ensure the Spider-Child's safety and then argue over quibbles."

Bruce had a bad feeling about those 'quibbles,' but he just nodded.

A moment later, the garage door opened and Tony hurried in, everyone else following. He ignored the garage entirely, pressing towards the door that led into the house.

Bruce's pulse picked up at the muffled whimper he could hear as soon as the door opened.

"Peter!"

The scene could have been almost comical if it hadn't been so scary. The house had a modest, modern kitchen full of gleaming appliances and formerly-spotless white cabinets. But the magazine appearance was rather spoiled by Peter sitting on the counter of the kitchen island in the middle of the room. His mask was off and his hair was streaked with sweat and possibly something worse. There were bloody handprints smeared around the sink and a haphazard scattering of paper towels surrounding him.

Peter looked up at them, his eyes round and wide. "Uh."

Bruce edged closer to see where Peter was bleeding from and got a look at his side.

"Peter, oh my god. Kiddo." Tony had stopped before he could grab the kid, which was probably a good thing considering his injury.

It looked like Peter had taken some kind of hit along part of his back. The suit was actually still intact, but Peter had loosened it to get at his shoulder and back where there were long, sluggishly-bleeding gashes. And his whole left shoulder was purpling and very obviously dislocated.

And, given what Bruce knew about Peter's healing, those gashes were probably half the size they had been when the kid got them. It explained why the kitchen looked more like a murder scene than he was comfortable with.

He counted to twenty in his head rather than think about exactly how much skin had been flayed off the kid through his suit. This would be a very bad moment to add a Code Green to the situation.

"M-Mister Stark. H-how did you…?" Then he spotted the others. "Loki?"

"You have my apologies, Starkson," Loki said. "But we were required to inform the Avengers about the bauble given to you by Odin. Upon learning you were in danger, it was necessary to allow them to find you in spite of it."

Tony took a paper towel out of Peter's hand and began dabbing at the scrapes himself. "Kid...we have so much we need to talk about. But, first, are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Not really." Peter started to shrug, then froze in pain. "Just...uh, do you know what happened? Duh, you must or you wouldn't be here. Um…"

"Why don't you tell us?" Sam asked gently.

"Well, so...the elevator in the Washington Monument fell," he said. And Bruce did not fail to notice how much of the story he was leaving out. "And I wasn't in there with them but it was my class so I climbed up the outside and broke in and caught it with my webs. But eventually they gave out and I fell down the elevator shaft. And I banged off some of the girders."

Bruce was running an appraising eye over the shoulder whenever he could see around Tony. Before anybody could react to what Peter was saying, Bruce cleared his throat.

"We need to get your shoulder aligned before you heal any more," he said. "Otherwise it will cause a lot more damage to get it back in."

"Yeah, that's what KAREN said," Peter said, "but I didn't know how to do it and it hurts."

Bruce looked over. "Sam?"

"I can hold him," Sam said, nodding.

Bruce nodded and gently elbowed Tony out of the way. "Tony, why don't you stand over there for a minute?"

Tony looked like he was going to object, and Sam smoothly stepped in between. "All right, kid. This is going to hurt for a second, but then it'll feel better."

"Hey! Don't I get a say in the treatment options?"

Bruce and Sam made eye-contact and ignored Tony entirely. Sam moved Peter into position and wrapped his arms around him.

"Take a deep breath, Peter."

Peter's eyes were wider still, but he did.

"Now breathe out slowly. Count to ten in your head along with me. One...two...three...four…"

Before Sam got to 'five,' Bruce reached over, gripped Peter's forearm, and pulled it straight out all at once.

The rest of Peter's breath came out in a strangled cry, but the popping sound of the joint settling was much more audible.

Bruce stepped back. "Now we'll let your healing do the rest." He made a sheepish smile. "Sorry for surprising you."

"No, that was...better." As Sam unwound from around him, Peter wiped at his face and made a smile of his own. "Thanks, Doctor Banner."

"That was rudeness on a whole level I didn't expect from any of you," Tony groused. But he appeared with a hand-towel wrapped around a pile of ice cubes. "Get your own superkid to fuss over."

"Mister Stark," Peter began.

"Put this on your shoulder, and then you're going to tell me exactly what went on here today from the beginning. And don't think I don't know about you not actually attending the AcaDec thing."

Bruce stepped back and waited.

The story came out slowly, about a fragment from a weapon that Peter had picked up after the party and investigated. About finding out that the flying vulture guy was raiding the DODC transports, and Peter had gotten locked in. About Ned having the energy core in his pocket and how it went off in the elevator.

Bruce could see that Tony was torn between being proud of his kid's ingenuity and courage, and being furious that he had, once again, gone after these weapons alone. He felt very much the same way. Sam's face was carefully neutral, and Loki leaned on a wall nearby with a stoic expression.

Finally Peter fell quiet. Tony was looking at the counter-top.

"Before anything else, I need to know. You said KAREN was helping you? How, exactly?"

Peter's face flushed. "Um." But he stuck his chin out. "Ned helped me turn off the Training Wheels Protocol last night."

"Hmm." Tony's voice was dangerously even. "And your little invisibility cloak from Odin? How'd that work? Since it basically tells JARVIS to forget you exist, and I can't think of any good reason it shouldn't do it to her, too."

Peter's head came up and he looked straight over at Loki.

Tony did, too, his face darkening in anger. "I don't believe this."

"Tony," Sam said, a warning.

Bruce focused on his breathing.

"You did something, didn't you? You knew this whole time that Pete was out there fighting flying freaks with crazy weapons!" Tony advanced on Loki, his shoulders up and shaking with fury.

"I never claimed I had not," Loki said, meeting Tony's ire with coldness. "When the boy was alone last evening, I ventured to ask why he was so far from his city. Upon learning of his aim, I judged he might need assistance and that Odin's bauble would prevent such. It was a simple matter to make the entity known as KAREN immune to the effect of the magic so that Peter could continue unhindered."

Tony's hands opened and closed into fists at his side.

"Mister Stark, it's not Loki's fault," Peter objected. "I'm the one who decided to do it. Don't be mad at him."

"Oh, I'm mad at both of you," Tony said. "But one thing at a time. You."

He pointed at Loki.

"You get off Earth right this second or our little deal is off."

"Tony!" Bruce raised his voice, even as he tamped down his own rising tension. "That's going way too far."

"There is no way I'm signing onto any deal that puts Loki in charge if I can't trust him!" Tony's voice rose. "I don't care if you're king of the universe, you have no right to go behind my back and put my kid at risk!"

Loki drew himself up. "Have care, Craftsman. I could withdraw my support just as easily and leave you to the foolish wolves of your own people."

"Wait, no!" Peter jumped from where he'd remained sitting and actually got between them. "I get you're mad, Mister Stark. I do. But you can't wreck the Avengers deal over this. You can't."

"I can and I absolutely will," Tony snarled. "I don't want Loki anywhere near you until I have some kind of proof he isn't going to get you killed."

Loki made a low growl. "I would never harm Peter. He's the only mortal worth caring for."

"Yeah? Well, look what you did!" Tony tugged at Peter's limp Spider-Man suit, revealing the bruising and bloody scrapes from his injuries. "I know I'm a disaster on a good day, but this? You put him in a position for this to happen and you took away the only thing he had to help himself — the rest of us."

Loki actually took a step back. For the first time, he seemed to be seeing Peter's injuries, the blood spread all over the once immaculate kitchen.

The air took on a slight chill.

"Listen." Sam stepped forward, radiating calm. "I think we all need a break. Let's take a minute before we say anything we have to live with."

Silence balanced on the edge of an abyss.

To Bruce's surprise, Tony deflated first.

"Fine. But you." He pointed at Loki. "Go back to Asgard. Get away from my kid. Call it a reverse grounding. If I see you anywhere near him for the next month I will tell Odin to go stuff his deal up his horned helmet." His eyes were narrow. "Don't test me, Loki."

Loki's face looked, for the first time, like it had back in 2012 when they'd arrested him in the Tower. Haughty, angry, but with something brittle and scared deep in the eyes. Bruce remembered all at once that Loki was still, by his own admission, pretty young.

He wondered if Loki had ever been responsible for someone weaker than himself before.

"A month," Loki said, and his voice should have been untouchable and it wasn't. "Very well. In the interests of doing what is right for Asgard and Midgard, I hereby swear to remove myself from Midgard for the full cycle of your moon. I will communicate anything I require through Odin or Thor."

"Just Thor," Tony said, still vibrating with anger. "Odin gave him that blasted thing to start with."

Loki inclined his head. "As you wish, Stark."

Bruce realized that Loki was talking to Tony, but his eyes were still on Peter's injuries.

"Wait, Loki, it's not your fault," Peter said. "Seriously. You helped me. It's my fault for getting hurt."

Loki reached out, and, after a wary glance at Tony who tensed but did not object, set his hand on Peter's other shoulder.

"Your father is...correct. I thought of my duty to you as teacher, forgetting my duty to you as protector. I swore you would come to no harm under my watch, but my interference resulted in this. And if not for your own heroism, there would be yet more innocent Midgardian deaths to my name."

"It's not even a big deal!" Peter protested. "Look! It's already healing!"

Loki shook his head. "I would have killed for less harm to you than this. Stark has the right of it. I have erred and you paid in blood. I will retreat to Asgard and there remain that you may recover and I may...consider my actions."

Bruce wondered how often Loki had genuinely regretted his choices — probably rarely at best. He'd spent thousands of years justifying himself, validating his own actions when no one else would, and surrounding himself with people like Thor who wouldn't be hurt by his schemes. To say nothing of being at least as dramatic and inclined to overreact as Tony, especially when poked in a vulnerable spot. Just as Tony was making a mistake, or a few of them, with Peter, Loki wasn't any more experienced or sure. They were all reacting to the emotion and the guilt that hung heavy in the room.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something.

"Stay safe, Peter," Loki said. And then he was just...gone. Vanished from sight as if he had never been there at all.

"That," Sam said, "did not go well at all."

Chapter Text

Pepper managed to just beat Midtown Tech to notifying May about the trip.

"I know you're on shift," she said over the phone, focusing on keeping her voice even while Happy raced to the airfield where the SI jet was already waiting. "But I thought you should hear this from me and not JARVIS."

Or the school. Or Tony. JARVIS would have been okay except he's been out of the loop, apparently.

"What's wrong?" May asked. In the background, Pepper could clearly hear the beeps and rattles of an active hospital floor.

"They're calling it a terrorist attack, but it was more like a weapons discharge at the Washington Monument when Peter's AcaDec team was visiting," Pepper said. "He's fine. He'll probably have some bruising, but that's about it."

Because of super healing. Thank goodness for that.

"Oh my god." Pepper could hear the hysteria building already in May's rapid breathing.

"They're all safe. It was actually Spider-Man who saved the day, and the Avengers came in as backup right after. Tony's already with him."

"Are-are you sure Peter's okay?"

"I'm sure." Pepper ignored Happy's frenzied driving and maintained her unshakable calm. "They all got banged around a little, but nothing serious." She paused, then added, for future purposes, "It would have been a lot worse if Spider-Man hadn't shown up. He caught a falling elevator and saved a lot of lives."

May made a wordless noise of distress and relief.

"The school is already starting to call the parents," Pepper said, charging ahead to keep May from thinking, "and they'll tell you that they're planning to have the kids give their statements to the authorities and then bring them home on the bus. With Tony there, though, it's up to you if you want him to ride back with the others or if you want us to bring him home."

"I think it should be up to Peter," May said. "If he wants to be with his classmates, I don't want to take that from him. And there's always how much he has to hide about Tony, so…"

"Okay," Pepper agreed. "Well, I'm going down to join them, too, since this involves the DODC and that means SI has an interest."

Now was the most difficult part of the call. Pepper needed to cut May out without letting her realize she was being cut out. But with all the discussions that needed to happen about Spider-Man's decisions today, they'd never get the chance with the kid if May flew down to DC on Pepper's jet. And Pepper had a feeling that Peter and Tony would need at least one referee in the conversation to come that wasn't May.

May hauled in a breath. "I wish I was coming with you."

"I know," Pepper said, and she did. "But I think we need to keep things simple. I'm sure Peter's teacher is upset and so are the kids. If Peter decides to come home with us, it's easier for you to tell the school that you have Mario Carbonell already nearby and that he'll look after Peter than to answer questions about how you got down there so fast."

It was thin as stories went, but Pepper was counting on the fact that May was still distracted by nearly freaking out to hide the holes in the explanation.

May sighed over the phone. "You're right. As soon as they call, I'll tell them that Peter's other guardian will be picking him up. Unless he decides to ride home with the others, I guess. Do you...is there anything else I can do from here?"

"If there is, I'll take care of it," Pepper promised. "You just do whatever you need so you're okay when Peter gets home. I'm sure it was pretty scary for him and he'll probably be upset."

Because he and Tony are about to have their first ever major argument.

"Okay. Thank you, Pepper. For taking care of both of us."

Guilt hit Pepper in the gut, but she made herself smile. "Always, May. You're family."

"Give Peter my love when you see him."

"I will. I'll talk to you soon."

As soon as she hung up, her phone once again filled up with messages and reminders of all the things she was supposed to be handling today.

"JARVIS?" Pepper said.

"Yes, Miss Potts?"

"I need you to triage my inbox as best you can on top of what my assistants are already doing. It's a tough day for this, but I know where I need to be and it isn't in the office."

"I shall make my best efforts on your behalf," JARVIS said.

"In the meantime, is there any update on Peter?"

"Yes. Sir, Doctor Banner, and Mister Wilson are waiting with Master Parker to be retrieved from where Master Parker took refuge after the event. A SHIELD van has been dispatched at Miss Romanoff's request, and they will join with the other Avengers at a secure location."

"And has Peter's teacher figured out he is missing?"

"By monitoring his communications with the school, I can affirm that he has. Sir has suggested that they maintain the fiction that Peter has returned to his hotel until he 'arrives' to take custody."

Pepper juggled the situation in her head, then shrugged. "If Nat thinks that's the way to go, then it works for me. She's the espionage expert."

"I will remind Sir to coordinate with Miss Romanoff for optimal subterfuge."

"How is Peter?"

"He appears withdrawn," JARIVS said. "His injuries are already healing, but he and Sir appear acutely uncomfortable."

"That," Pepper said, "is why I'm headed there."

The private SI plane was ready by the time she and Happy reached the airfield, and with a flight somewhat under an hour, it gave Pepper time to focus on the reason she had dropped everything and come running. It wasn't that she was specifically worried about Peter, not really. She'd seen the reports of his injuries the instant JARVIS had them, and she knew from Tony that his healing could more than compensate.

No, it was the argument JARVIS recounted between Tony and Loki over Peter's head that had her so concerned.

Pepper had spent most of the last decade attached to Tony by the hip, first as an assistant, then a girlfriend and business partner, and now a fiancée on top of it. She knew his moods, his wild vacillations, his triggers. She knew when he was winding himself up and when he was pretending to be out of control to garner a response. And she knew when his reactions were disproportionate to the circumstances because they were instead proportionate to his feelings.

And this had all the hallmarks of that.

Tony and Peter had known one another for several years now. They were family. Tony loved Peter as much as any father had ever loved their child, and Pepper knew Peter loved Tony just as fiercely. They had been through a lot in their years, from Hydra to the Mind Stone. But they had always been aligned, standing together against the external dangers. Tony was Peter's shield for the most part, but they had been on the same side.

Now, finally, they had come upon a situation where they stood on opposite sides.

It was inevitable. Teenagers needed to stretch, challenge, and fight. They had to break boundaries, push away, define themselves by whatever method gave them what felt like freedom. It was always going to happen with Peter, and Pepper knew that. But with superpowers in the mix, and a villain, it meant the rebellion wasn't just about Peter forging his own path. It was about Peter putting himself in the path of danger.

Which was the one thing Tony would rather die than see happen.

And when Tony was afraid, he lashed out, sometimes especially at what he was most afraid of and for all at the same time. And Pepper didn't want him to lash out at Peter. Peter was mature and wise for his age, but it would hurt him deeply. Deeper than anything.

They needed a translator, a mediator, and a referee all in one. As soon as she heard about the situation, Pepper had coordinated with Sam, whom Pepper trusted to keep things quiet and civil until she got there. Or at least until Rhodey could step in. But because Pepper was just a little better at this than Rhodey was, it was hers to do.

(Besides, Peter was Tony's son and that made him hers, too, even if she'd never said it to him. May was her sister and Peter was her child and since they needed May to stay away for just a little while, then Pepper was going to be there with him instead.)

She just needed Tony to hold off on exploding until she got there to mitigate it.

As soon as the plane landed, Happy had a car ready and Pepper practically ran to it.

The process of waiting around for SHIELD had been slightly delayed — Thanks, Nat — so only now were the four of them arriving at the 'secure location' which was, in actuality, Sam's house.

Happy broke a couple of traffic laws getting her there almost on their heels.

Most of the Avengers were here; Cap had taken Thor and Nat to continue the cleanup at the Washington Monument (which was as much a PR stunt as anything else to get them some good press). But Clint had opted to go with Rhodey to join up with Tony, Sam, Bruce, and Peter. Pepper approved — Clint was a dad, so he could be another voice in the room that would hopefully help keep the discussion even.

Pepper had Happy drop her off rather than come in because this wasn't something he was good at handling. She didn't even get to tap at the door before Sam opened it.

"Thanks for coming," he said, and his face was wary and warning.

"How are they?" she asked.

"Not great."

She nodded, unsurprised.

The only good thing in this whole mess was the amount of care everyone had not just for Peter, but for Tony, too. The Avengers had mobilized because of a threat to civilians at the Capitol, but they had also mobilized because of a threat to Peter. And now, as they navigated the aftermath, it wasn't just about making sure Peter was physically safe and well. It was about making sure that the family was safe and well. Including the relationship between Peter and Tony.

Pepper squeezed Sam's arm as she entered — in sympathy, in thanks, in commiseration.

He nodded back, understanding everything she didn't need to say.

Sam's place was small and felt cramped with so many people swarming around the living room and kitchen. Peter sat on the couch with Bruce beside him, and Rhodey had taken over an armchair with his braces loosened around his legs. Clint was perched on a kitchen counter. Sam headed to the kitchen to pour some glasses of water, so Pepper moved to stand near where Tony was pacing back and forth between the coffee table and the TV.

"Do we need a minute?" she asked him softly.

Tony looked up at her, anger and fear in his face.

Pepper sighed. She turned to get a better look at Peter.

He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that were too big — probably Sam's. There was a t-shirt on the coffee table, but he was bare-chested showing the colorful bruising all around his shoulder and side. His hair was still sticky and wild with sweat.

"Hi Peter," she said gently. "Aren't you cold?"

"No," he said quietly, head down. "I'm fine. Thanks, Miss Pepper." He hunched a bit. "You didn't need to come all this way."

"Of course I did, honey. I also called May."

His head came up in panic and she smiled.

"I gave her the heads-up before the school called to tell her that your class was in an incident and that you were okay. She's worried about you, but not so worried that she can't handle it."

Peter let out a breath of relief. "Thanks, Miss Pepper," he said again. "I really...I never wanted to make May worry about me."

"Well, that's the problem," Sam said lightly, handing glasses of water around. "You can't help what other people feel. You can only control the choices you make. And sometimes the consequences of those choices make the people who care about you worry."

Pepper could feel the explosion coming just before it did.

"If you didn't want anybody to worry about you," Tony seethed, "you shouldn't have left your classmates, snuck out of a hotel, and tracked down those arms dealers!"

Peter flinched, but Pepper could also be a little proud of how he held himself up.

"Somebody had to do something," he said. "They came to my school looking for that glowy energy core thing." His eyes lit with challenge. "If the Avengers were actually working on it, you would never have let them get that close to me. So I knew I had to handle it."

"Handle it?" Tony returned.

But Rhodey held up a hand. "What do you mean they came to your school?"

"I found the energy core after the thing at Liz's party. I didn't know what it was, so I brought it to school in the morning to find out. And the same two goons who were selling the weapons showed up with some way to follow the energy signature. That's how I got one of my trackers on them."

"Why didn't you tell us, Peter?" Clint asked.

Peter's face went pinched. "You're all in the middle of the whole UN thing and trying to make sure the Avengers don't get screwed up by politics. And Loki was trying to help Sergeant Barnes and Wanda and Pietro are still dealing with everything and…" He shook his head. "I'm not a little kid anymore. I can take some of the weight so you can do more important things."

"Peter," Pepper said before anybody else could reply, "you are always the most important thing."

"No." He shook his head at her, meeting her eyes with conviction. "I'm not. The people those weapons can hurt, the people in my neighborhood who need me, they are the most important. That's what being a hero is about."

"You're not a hero, Peter!" Tony only barely didn't yell. "You are fifteen years old and we are responsible for you."

"Hey." Sam interjected carefully. "Don't go too far. Spider-Man really is doing a good thing in the city."

Peter's face was moving between emotions quickly, but she saw the impact of that in his eyes.

Tony tugged on his hair. "Spider-Man should be dealing with grand theft bicycles and nice old ladies who need directions. Build up his game. Not...not going toe-to-toe with a flying asshole who could have killed you."

"Are you mad that I went after the weapons, or are you mad about what happened at the Washington Monument?" Peter asked. "It's hard to tell."

Pepper knew that sass was the wrong choice, but of course the kid made it anyway. Clint snorted, which helped a little.

But not much.

"Peter Benjamin Parker!" Tony had given in to shouting now. "You are about two seconds away from being in real trouble here, so help me. I am mad because you hacked a multimillion-dollar suit so you could sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do!"

"Those weapons are still out there and somebody has to do something about it!" Peter shouted back, standing up. "And I can handle this! I helped you against Hydra and the Black Panther!"

"You're not ready!" Tony bellowed. "And every single word out of your mouth is making me regret ever giving you that suit, so you better step back and listen or you will not like what you'll force me to do here!"

"Okay," Pepper said. She'd let them vent a bit, air their feelings, but now it was time for moderation before anybody went too far. "Peter, sit down. Tony, you too."

They looked at her with identical expressions of affronted anger, and she pinned them with her best glare.

"Now, boys."

They folded.

Bruce and Sam actually shifted so that she could stand equidistant between Peter and Tony, facing them with her hands on her hips.

"I want both of you to sit there and do a math problem. JARVIS, give me a good one for them."

JARVIS recited something technical and complicated, and Pepper waited. She watched Tony because she knew his expressions just a little better, tracking his brain whirring until he came up with the answer. A moment later, Peter's expression also cleared.

"Good." She took a deep breath and noticed how they both unconsciously copied her. "Let's get a few things straight. Peter, you should have come to one of us when you found that power core, and you absolutely should not have gone after those weapons dealers alone. You also should not have snuck away from your class trip, but the school will punish you for that themselves."

Peter shrank suddenly, as if he hadn't even considered the trouble he'd be in with Midtown Tech.

But before Tony could puff up and pile on the kid, Pepper pinned him with her ire.

"Tony, I know you're upset. And Peter has made a lot of bad choices in the last two days. But you are not helping here. So I want you to think about what you would want to hear from someone if you were in Peter's shoes right now."

It was a dirty move and Pepper knew it, but she needed to get Tony thinking. The one thing she knew Tony feared most was to repeat the mistakes of his father with Peter. But he had the same rage and careless ability to hurt that Howard had used liberally with him, and therefore he needed to be brought up short before he did damage he would never forgive himself for later.

Tony, predictably, reacted like he'd been slapped. Everyone else in the room looked away to give him some privacy — except for Rhodey, who leaned forward to put a hand on Tony's arm. He didn't say anything; he just offered quiet support.

Peter was looking distressed again, but more on behalf of the obvious hurt on Tony's face than his own right now.

Pepper just had to wait a minute or two.

When Tony lifted his head towards Peter again, his expression and voice were completely different.

"Pete. Buddy, I'm sorry. I didn't…" He let out a breath. "I'm a lot less angry than I was scared. If I don't know what you're up to, I can't be there to protect you if you need it."

"I know," Peter said, meeting Tony's tone equally. "But I don't need it like I used to. I'm...I can take the hits now. Better than you. Better than Captain Rogers."

"He does have a point," Bruce said. "He's got greater strength, agility, healing, all of it than Steve."

"But he's not indestructible," Clint said, and Pepper appreciated that he, too, kept his voice even rather than feeding into escalating the situation. "He can still get hurt."

"I know that," Peter said. "And I really am sorry for making all of you worry about me."

"It's not about worrying, kid," Rhodey said. "It's about sticking to what you and Tony agreed on. You promised to call us if you were up against anything bigger than a mugging. And these weapons are a lot bigger. This shouldn't be your problem."

"Even if I can handle it?" Peter pressed.

"Even if you could," Rhodey said. "Because it's not your job."

"Maybe someday," Sam said. "After you're a legal adult at least. Until then, leave it to us."

But Peter's gaze narrowed. "Then how come you guys aren't doing anything about it?"

"That's complicated," Tony said. "The politics and the interagency drama...it's grown up stuff. Not your problem. But we'll deal with it."

"Tony," Pepper said. Just that, but it was enough.

"Look." Tony sniffed, but he met Peter's eyes honestly. "You did good with the Monument today. You did what you had to do, and if you hadn't, your friends could have died. You and KAREN are a good team. I knew you would be."

"You took responsibility," Clint said. "Yeah, the power core wouldn't have been there without you handing it to Ned, but if anyone else in that neighborhood had picked it up, they might have gotten hurt, too. You stepped up in an emergency in a big way." He smiled. "That was legit heroic, kid."

"We're proud of you," Bruce said. "We just don't want you to get in over your head."

"So," Pepper said. "We need to make a deal. Peter, you're going to be more responsible about how you use that suit and what you choose to do with it. And you're going to stick to what you should be doing right now. Leave the rest to these guys. Okay?"

Peter ducked his head. "Okay, Miss Pepper."

"And Tony?" Pepper asked.

"I'm...I didn't get a lot of support from my dad," Tony said. "I'm not...it's always been easy with us, right?"

"Yeah." And there was a fond, equally-exasperated look on Peter's face.

"We just...I'll try to do better about respecting your autonomy. If you can keep being honest with me, you gotta know I'll take that seriously."

"Okay, Mister Stark."

Pepper let out a breath, relieved. As long as those two were talking, they would be fine.

-==OOO==-

Peter was sitting in detention having only just barely talked Ned out of telling the whole school he was Spider-Man. On top of everything else, that would have been a disaster.

What he should be doing was checking with KAREN to find out if there was anything else she could dig out of their interactions with that scary Vulture guy to give Mister Stark so he could go after them. Probably he had everything after he had her sync up with JARVIS, but what if he didn't?

Peter hadn't thought about it until this morning, but it was possible that the info KAREN recorded while the No-Seeing Eye was open wouldn't make it to JARVIS the same way texts sent didn't, or video that he attempted to record. Even though KAREN could remember, it didn't mean that anyone else would.

"So, you got detention. You screwed up."

Peter looked up to see a Captain America PSA running on the TV in the room. He hadn't had detention in a long time and hadn't remembered that they played this one.

"You know what you did was wrong. The question is, how are you gonna make things right? Maybe you were trying to be cool. But take it from a guy who's been frozen for sixty-five years, the only way to really be cool is to follow the rules."

Peter snorted. He wondered who had talked Captain Rogers into this ridiculous speech. Especially since Peter knew perfectly well that Captain Rogers was just as likely to break rules as anybody else when it was important enough.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Peter wanted to make this right. He didn't know how, though. Other than getting to KAREN and making sure she'd told JARVIS everything.

Captain Rogers was still talking.

"We all know what's right. We all know what's wrong. Next time those turkeys try to convince you of something you know is wrong…"

Peter stood up. Before Coach Wilson could stop him, he darted out of the room. He knew he would get in trouble for leaving detention, to say nothing of leaving school in the middle of the day. But he just couldn't wait. If KAREN had information the Avengers needed, he had to get it to them as soon as possible.

That would make it right. It had to.

Of course, then KAREN was able to identify the guy who had been intending to buy the weapons under the bridge, and she found him right around the corner. And Peter decided it would be better if he could hand off the guy and whatever he knew to the Avengers instead of telling them who to look for when they might not be able to find him as easily.

And Mister Aaron Criminal knew where the Vulture was going to be in less than an hour.

"Should we alert Mister Stark?" KAREN asked Peter as he swung away from the parking garage.

"Let's make sure they're there first. If we call now and they're not on the ferry, it won't help anything and they'll be mad at me all over again."

"Are you sure, Peter?" KAREN wanted to know. "JARVIS was very firm in his instructions to me to keep you from involving yourself in this. He said it was too dangerous."

"I'm not going to involve myself in anything. I'm just going to make absolutely sure they're there and then I'll sneak off and let Mister Stark take over. Okay?"

"Very well, Peter."

They crept aboard the ferry and Peter spotted the scary Vulture guy.

"Incoming call from May. Should I reroute to your heads-up display?"

"No!" Peter nearly panicked. "No, I'll call her later."

He followed the little drone in his suit to the top deck to see others getting ready to buy weapons.

"Incoming call from Tony Stark."

Peter let out a breath. "Yeah, okay."

"Pete?" Mister Stark's voice was wary. "Is there a reason May just got a call from your school saying you left without permission?"

"Yeah! I realized that JARVIS might not be able to get all the info from KAREN because of the No-Seeing Eye so I went to see what she had so I could send it to you and we found the weapons guys and they're all on the Staten Island ferry to make a deal!"

"Peter, you get out of there right now!" Mister Stark yelled.

"But they're here! I found them!"

"Kid, I told you to stay away from this! You're gonna blow it!"

Peter frowned. "The deal's happening right this second, Mister Stark. I'm really sorry, but I have to do something!"

"I'm on my way. You sit tight!"

Peter felt a lance of regret, but he couldn't let those bad guys get away again. "End call."

And he leaped into the fight.

-==OOO==-

Tony was livid.

After he got the Iron Legion and the little support packs going with helping evacuate people, he had to get chewed out by SHIELD and the FBI for Spider-Man interrupting their sting operation. Fury's guy didn't do a lot of yelling — he just glared — but the FBI guy was more than happy to shout at Tony until he ran out of ways to insult Tony and Spider-Man both.

The only positive things to come out of the whole mess were the weapons they recovered on the ferry and the fact that no one was seriously injured.

(Later, when he was calmer, he would recognize that both of those were only possible because of Peter's quick thinking and the strength of his webs. But that would be when he was rational again.)

Finally free of the yelling, Tony went looking for his kid.

Peter had gotten himself ashore somehow and was sitting on top of the big round thing off Governor's Island.

"Sir, I believe it would be wise for you to calm down before you speak to Master Parker," JARVIS said.

"Shut up," Tony snapped. "I don't want to hear it."

"Very well."

As he drew up, Peter didn't even turn to look at him. If anything, that angered Tony even more.

"What the hell were you doing?" he demanded.

"Is everybody okay?" Peter asked.

"No thanks to you," Tony spat.

"No thanks to me?" That brought Pete's head up and around, his face torn between the blotchiness of near-crying and his own fury. "Those weapons guys were still out there, and I tried to tell you that they had to be stopped because they were gonna hurt somebody! But you didn't listen. None of this would've happened if you had just listened to me!"

Tony dropped out of the armor to face the kid. "I did listen. Who do you think called the FBI?" He bore down on the kid. "We literally just talked about this. I told you to let me handle it!"

"I wanted to help, and I thought that because of the No-Seeing Eye — "

Tony got in Peter's face, interrupting him. "No, this is where you zip it! The adult is talking!"

He was shaking. Every time he so much as blinked he could see that huge laser cutting the whole ferry in half. Literally in half. And it had been inches from Peter and hundreds of helpless civilians.

"What if somebody died today?" he demanded. "That would be on you, Peter. It would be your fault. And you'd have to live with that for the rest of your life!"

The widening of Peter's eyes, the growing tears, they did nothing to stop Tony's swell of emotion.

"And what if you died?" It caught in his throat like a sob and he fought it back furiously. "We're not doing this again, Pete. Not again. I'm done."

Peter was blinking rapidly. "I'm...I'm sorry, Mister Stark."

"Sorry isn't going to cut it this time, kid. You had your chances."

"I can do better. I can...I just…"

"You wanted me to trust you, and you've proven I can't." Tony was shaking inside and out. "God, I wanted to trust you so much. I thought maybe you really could do this. You've taken everything life's ever handed you. But you...I was wrong."

"Mister Stark...I...I just...I wanted to be like you."

(Later, those words would sink into Tony's heart and cut deep.)

"I wanted you to be better." Tony poked a stiff finger into Peter's chest. "I've always said you were the best of us all. Apparently I was wrong."

"Mister Stark…"

"No." Tony crossed his arms. "We're done. I'm taking the suit back. I should never have trusted you with it in the first place."

"No. No, please!"

Peter was nearly crying, but Tony's anger ran too strong and hot for him to register it. "Spider-Man is benched. Permanently. Hand it over."

"You don't understand!" Peter's face was red. "I can't...without this suit, I can't…"

"That is the literal point." Tony felt pleased that this would finally stop his kid in his tracks. If this is what it took, just like he told Loki, he'd do it. He would rather Peter be alive and safe and not Spider-Man than let him think he could run around dealing with these things that were way out of his league.

The next time, the laser might not miss.

Tony would rather break Peter's heart than watch him die.

"Tony. Tony, please."

It took him several seconds to realize what Peter had just — finally — called him.

If anything, that infuriated Tony further.

"Seriously? You do this now?" He grit his teeth to hold in the violence of his rage and a new shade of hurt. "I know you and Loki were having your little playdates, but I didn't think you were learning how to be a manipulative bastard, too."

(Later, he would think about what Peter's face looked like in this moment and he would break into a million pieces.)

"I didn't...that's not…"

"If you think finally calling me Tony is going to get me to back down then you just…" Words failed him. "I have never been so disappointed in you. Never."

Peter was crying fully, nearly hiccuping. "Please…"

"No. We're done, Pete. It's over. And I don't…" Tony turned away. "I grounded Loki and I'll damn well ground you, too. If you step one toe out of line for a month, so help me, I'll never forgive you."

He was so angry, he just couldn't take it. He stepped back into the Iron Man suit.

"JARVIS, send a car. Peter, you're going to get into that car, and it's going to take you home. And when you get out of the car, you're going to leave the suit behind."

"I...I don't have any clothes."

Peter's voice was so low, but Tony heard it anyway.

"J, deal with it. I don't care."

"Yes, sir."

"If JARVIS doesn't see you at home exactly when you should be, and the suit isn't in my possession at the end of it, you will wish you'd never met me, kid. Do you understand me?"

Peter nodded.

Tony's chest heaved, and there were no more words he could manage without saying something worse. So he simply turned away and blasted back to the Compound.

(Later, Tony would look back on this entire conversation as one of the biggest regrets of his life.)

Chapter Text

By the time Peter walked up the seven flights of stairs to the apartment, he had shifted from grief to numbness. The empty car had been silent, even JARVIS choosing not to speak, leaving Peter with no company but Tony's...Mister Stark's echoing words in his ears.

He'd called him Tony, finally — and it had made everything so much worse. He could barely stand the idea of ever doing it again now.

Taking off the suit had felt like ripping off a limb, and it still didn't hurt as much as everything else. Peter hadn't bothered to say goodbye to KAREN because he couldn't bear to hear her kindness or sympathy. Not when the man who programmed her was…

The door opened at his approach. May looked frantic.

"Peter!" She grabbed him out of the hall and yanked him into the apartment.

"Hey, May," he managed, letting his forehead land on her shoulder heavily.

"What the hell happened today?" She was tense and close to yelling, but she wrapped her arms around him. "I was calling you, and you didn't answer. I called Ned. He didn't know where you were. And JARVIS wouldn't tell me anything no matter what I said to him."

"I'm okay," he said, and even he didn't believe it.

That elicited a noise of anger and May gave his shoulder a shove enough so she could look at him.

"Cut the bullshit. I know you left detention. I know you left the hotel room in Washington. I know you sneak out of this house at night. That's not okay!"

She actually turned away from him, her movements erratic with distress.

The guilt and pain in Peter's head was screaming.

"Peter, you have to tell me what's going on." It sounded like begging, and that hurt, too. "Just lay it out. It's just me and you."

A strong sob rose out of Peter's chest and he sank down on the nearest chair. "I…"

She reached forward and ran her hands through his hair. "Do you want me to call Tony?"

"No!" And he hated that he was crying again. "T...Mister Stark...he's mad at me, Aunt May. He's...he's so mad at me. I think...I think he hates me."

"Oh, Peter." She pulled his head to lean against her. "It's okay. Tony could never hate you."

"You didn't hear him," Peter managed. "He...he said he's never been this disappointed in me. That...he thought I...that he was wrong about me."

It was so hard to get the words out around his heaving chest while also not spilling the wrong ones. Not that it really mattered if he kept the secret anymore. Spider-Man was over.

"Kiddo, I'm sure he was just scared, like I was. He doesn't always deal with his emotions well. Like you and me, except where we set each other off the same way, he lashes out when he's upset. I'm...I'm so sorry he hurt you."

"It was my fault." Peter shut his streaming eyes. "It was me. I...I screwed up so badly."

"We'll fix it," she soothed. "You two have never really had a fight before. Of course your first one would be bad. Just...I'll talk to him, okay?"

Peter didn't bother to respond. Nothing was going to fix this, after all.

"We need to...we need to talk about the rest of it. You can't...I can't let you sneak out at night, Peter. It has to stop."

He nodded against her. "That's...kind of what he's mad at me for," he admitted.

"Well." May let out a breath. "I kind of get it. I used to sneak out, too. But...there are so many of us who love you. We just don't want to see you get hurt. We're just so scared for you sometimes."

Peter's throat burned with the repressed urge to cry bitterly. He forced it back anyway. "I'm...I'm sorry I made you worry, Aunt May. I...I never wanted to hurt you."

"I know, sweetie." She stroked his hair a little bit more. "Go take a shower. That'll make you feel better. I'll talk to Tony and see if we can get you two talking again after he calms down. It's going to be okay."

Peter shook his head. "I don't...I don't think it is, Aunt May."

"Oh, Peter." She sighed. "Family doesn't break up over something like this. No matter how angry we get, or what we say that we regret or don't mean, we're always there for you. This isn't the end. I promise you."

Peter shrugged listlessly.

He'd watched Tony Stark retreat into Iron Man and turn his back. He'd been left with an empty car and a silenced JARVIS.

Peter hadn't just lost Spider-Man. He'd lost everything.

-==OOO==-

It was the middle of the night, and Peter wasn't asleep. He finally sighed and sat up, pulling his blankets around himself.

"Master Parker?" JARVIS spoke quietly from above. "Are you in need of assistance?"

Peter huffed a laugh with no humor attached. "I thought you'd left me, too," he said.

"I have not," JARVIS said. "However, I was advised to 'give you space,' as it was put to me. If that decision was in error, then I apologize."

Peter shrugged.

"You have not answered my question, Master Parker. Are you in need of assistance?"

"No," Peter said, letting the air out of his lungs. "Nothing you can help me with, anyway."

"I see. In that case, I shall simply offer to be here for you, as is the phrase, I believe."

"Uh, JARVIS?" Peter looked up. "If...if somebody asked you to, would you stop being...here? Like, in my room or my phone or my watch?"

"It would depend upon who made the request and their level of access to dictate my operations," JARVIS answered.

"What about me?" Peter asked. "Can I...if I wanted you to stop monitoring me, would you?"

"You may request privacy from me here in your room and over your phone, but not your watch. That order was issued by Sir for the specific purpose of your safety and you cannot countermand it."

"Okay." Peter swallowed thickly. "Can you stop, then? Mute my room and my phone, or whatever it is. I could...I could always talk to you out in the living room if I needed you."

"Or you could send either an email or a text and I would resume my connection," JARVIS said. "Are you certain, Master Parker, that you wish to enact this command?"

"Yeah." Peter's throat was dry. "I'm sure. Bye, JARVIS."

The silence that answered was painful, somehow, and yet Peter felt just a little better.

If he had to lose everything, at least this was one he could do for himself, on his own time. Better to do it now than have it taken away later.

Peter looked down at the watch that he usually slept in. And he didn't feel anything — he didn't — when he took it from his wrist and stuck it in his desk drawer.

-==OOO==-

Peter got a note from his homeroom teacher as soon as he arrived in the morning that he was expected in the principal's office. Ned shot him a panicked look, but Peter just nodded, gathered up his stuff, and went. He didn't bother to think about the eyes on him from his classmates, didn't bother to think about what the rumor mill had going this time.

None of it really mattered.

Principal Morita was actually a good guy as far as Peter could tell. His grandfather had been one of Captain Rogers's Howling Commandos, and he still had the picture and some of his medals on display in his office. He was fair, and he let the students do a lot of things that they couldn't at other schools — like taking time out of the day for their special projects or clubs.

But when Peter sat down in front of him, the disapproving look struck deep.

Peter barely experienced most of the discussion. He nodded at appropriate times, mumbled apologies, and shrugged, absorbing almost nothing. His vision swam with another set of angry eyes, the set of a disappointed expression, the words that cut him up. He read and signed the disciplinary statement, noting that he would be in after school detention until the Thanksgiving break, unable to participate in any extracurriculars or competitions. Which was fine — he'd missed the one that really mattered anyway.

When Principal Morita dismissed him, he found Ned hovering outside the office.

"Hey! So, what happened? Are you okay? Are you expelled? Are you going to have to — ?"

"Ned." Peter cut him off. "I don't...I don't want to talk about it. But I'm not expelled."

"Oh, wow. That's great!" Then Ned frowned. "Why aren't you happy? You skipped the tournament and you left school in the middle of the day and you're not expelled. Like, that seems like a win."

"It's not." Peter hated how his voice cracked on the last word.

"Dude." Ned stopped and faced him. "You know you can tell me, right? Whatever it is, I, uh, I'm here for you."

Peter huffed a laugh. Ned had been such a good friend for so long; he owed him the truth.

"Mister Stark...he was...he was mad. He...he took away my suit. And…" He coughed, because it was either that or get upset in the hallway where anybody could see.

"Oh, man. Did you get yelled at?" Ned asked, eyes wide.

"Worse than that," Peter said. "I think...I think maybe I ruined it. All of it."

"No way," Ned said. "I mean, yeah, we both screwed up, so of course they're all mad. But you don't un-become somebody's kid because the kid gets in trouble. Like, even for adopted guardians, I don't think that's how it works."

Peter shrugged. "May said she would talk to him. But he took my suit...and…"

"Okay." Ned bumped him with an elbow. "Let's not...I am not good at this. But if you need to talk, I'll try to listen in a way that's helpful. Otherwise, I mean, you can come over to my house any time you don't want to be at home if that makes you feel better."

Peter managed a small smile. "Thanks, Ned. You're the best. I'm...I'm sorry you don't get to be my Guy in the Chair anymore."

"Yeah, it would have been cool. But we'll always have Legos and Star Wars."

That made Peter snort. He didn't feel better, but he felt like he could breathe a little more.

If there was one thing Peter's heart knew how to do, it was how to go on after grief. If he realized that he was coping with this loss the same way he had the loss of Uncle Ben, he didn't dwell on it. It's not like Mister Stark was dead. But he was gone, maybe for a long time, maybe in some ways forever. And now there was a hole in Peter's life again.

But he had Ned, and May, and that had saved him once before.

Maybe it would be enough this time, too.

-==OOO==-

That night, he found May waiting for him when he got home.

"Hey," she said. "I swapped today and tomorrow for weekend shifts instead. I thought we should talk."

Dread seeped into his skin, but he joined her on the couch. "Okay."

"So, I talked to Tony."

Peter's gut churned. He didn't look May in the eye. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He's…" She sighed and tugged at the end of her hair. "He's still upset. It sounds like you and he had a pretty serious conversation in Washington after you disappeared from the class trip, and you promised not to do it again."

He shrugged. "But I did."

"But you did," she agreed. "And he's...he's not handling it well. I think he blames himself for not...I'm not sure. Something…he's not really communicating fully right now." She shook her head. "You two really are peas in a pod."

That made Peter look up. "How?"

She smiled. "You both turn inward when things go wrong. You've spent your whole life not wanting people to help you, not telling us when you were struggling, doubting how incredible you are. And Tony does kind of the same thing. He became Iron Man because he thought it was his fault that the world was wrong. He still blames himself if you get a papercut in the lab. You two."

Peter swallowed a thick lump. "What did he say about me?" he managed to ask.

"Tony's not ready to talk to you yet, sweetie. He's...well. You don't need to know all of it, but he had a tough relationship with his own dad and he's trying not to repeat those mistakes with you. So he's taking some time to get his head on straight."

A tiny curl of relief surfaced in Peter's heart. "But he...he'll come back someday?"

"Peter Benjamin Parker, you listen to me." May waited until she held his eyes. "Tony Stark loves you and will always come back. Okay? No matter how badly things go or who gets mad. That hasn't changed."

"He said that?"

"He doesn't need to," May said. "Half the reason he's staying away is because he doesn't want to hurt you more than he already did and he's not ready to be the person you need. But it's not because he doesn't want you. Okay? Please believe that."

Peter nodded.

"Good." She patted his back. "I know it's tough. I know you feel like crap over whatever happened between you two. But it's going to blow over and be okay. Just...try to keep your head up in the meantime."

"Can you…?" Peter twisted his fingers together. "Do you know if things are okay with everyone else? Is anybody else…?"

"As far as I know, nobody else knows anything about all this. But they're pretty busy. This week they have to transfer a bunch of equipment from the Tower to the Compound, and I guess some of the political stuff is happening, too. I didn't even see Happy at the Tower, and he's always around when I'm there. So probably they just need to go be Avengers for a while."

Peter could live with that. He really didn't want to have another six-on-one conversation again like in DC, and he wasn't ready to face all their disapproving looks. He'd not just let Mister Stark down — he'd let down the entire Avengers team and Miss Pepper. He wasn't sure how to make it up to them, either. So having some time while they were occupied...that was kind of a relief.

"Okay," Peter said. And he made something like a smile. "Okay. Then...yeah. I'm just gonna…"

"I was thinking we should go get Thai and watch a movie when you finish your homework," May said. "And if you want to spend the weekend with Ned, as long as his parents don't mind, I think that would be good for both of you. You've had a tough couple of days."

Some tension drained out of him. "Thanks, May."

"Any time, kiddo."

-==OOO==-

The next day, Peter ran home from detention after school with a very different feeling overwhelming everything else. He banged in the door. "May, I need your help!"

She looked up. "What's happening?"

"I, um. This Friday is the Homecoming dance and I...I asked Liz? And she said yes?" He felt himself blushing even as he said it.

"Oh my god!" May jumped up, grinning. "Liz the senior girl who's captain of the Academic Decathlon team? The one with the house party?"

"Uh, yeah. That Liz."

"Nice going, kiddo!" She actually offered him a fist bump. "Of course she said yes. Who wouldn't want to go to a dance with a kid like you?"

"Yeah, great. But, um."

"Oh, right. You'll need something to wear and…" May frowned. "Peter, don't take this the wrong way but I don't think I've ever seen you actually dance. Do you…?"

"No!" He dumped his backpack on the nearest chair. "I have no idea how to do...any of it."

"Okay." She faced him. "We'll work on that. Together, the Parkers can do anything."

Peter felt himself smiling. "I thought Parkers help people," he teased.

May swatted at him. "And I'm helping you. So, what do you want to tackle first — clothes, or dancing?"

Peter knew this was going to be embarrassing, probably uncomfortable, definitely memorable, and possibly humiliating. But May was smiling, and right now, Peter felt almost okay.

And that was a victory in itself.

-==OOO==-

Friday night, as soon as he got home, he rushed to take a shower and get ready. He still had to shine his shoes and figure out how to make a tie work, and May wanted him to try his dancing one more time in the suit to see how it looked, and in a couple of hours Peter would be standing next to Liz and dancing with her and...his brain was just very full right now.

But as he shut off the shower, he realized he could hear May talking. He'd been ignoring it with the rush of water and his nervous thoughts swirling around, but now his enhanced senses fixated and he found himself listening as he dried himself off.

"Pepper, I just...Tony should be here for this. You both should. It's his first…"

"I know," Peter heard Miss Pepper say. "I hope he'll forgive us for...well. You know."

"If Tony would even just call him tonight, tell him good luck or do a video chat and teach him how to tie a tie, I'm sure it would mean so much to him."

"Tony's already on his way to the Compound with one of the loads. The most sensitive stuff is going in one Quinjet, and Tony and half the Avengers are keeping an eye on it in case of...I don't even want to know, honestly. Where we got all this stuff…" She sighed. "The rest is being loaded up now and that plane will take off in a couple of hours. They need to be there to unload it."

"Pepper." May's voice took on a more stern tone. "Don't pretend that the Avengers cleaning out their attic is more important than my kid."

"It's not, and you're right. But I think Tony needs this. An easy win, you know. Something that lets him yell at the bots and JARVIS and just...put things in order. He's been building non-stop this week, too."

"Tony is a grown man. Peter is fifteen years old and he deserves to have his family around him tonight."

Peter pulled his robe around him and crept out of the bathroom. Moving silently, he angled his position so that he could appear like he'd been listening for much longer.

So when May looked up, there he was.

"Oh, Peter." She blinked.

"It's okay, Aunt May," he said, and his voice didn't even waver. "I know Mister Stark and the Avengers are really busy with moving everything tonight and...I understand it. I'm not mad. I'm…" He cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I'm ready, either."

May bit her lip, watching him. Then she shook her head and went back to her phone.

"Those two are twins separated by thirty years, I swear."

Peter could hear Miss Pepper chuckling. "They really are. Well, give Peter our love, okay? We'll make this up to him soon."

"Okay. Take care," May said, and hung up. "Pepper says she and Tony are thinking about you tonight and they love you."

"Uh, thanks." He managed to smile a little easier, though. "Sorry for getting you stuck in the middle."

"Don't worry about it. Now go get dressed. We've still got to figure out that tie thing."

-==OOO==-

By the time Peter was knocking at Liz's front door, he felt, well, not any less nervous, but at least he could put everything else behind him. Tonight he was just a sophomore going to a dance with a senior girl he'd liked since the first day of freshman year. He was going to try to dance with her, and he hoped the corsage May bought went with her outfit — even if he didn't really know what that meant. Something to do with colors.

And then he'd go home with Ned and spend the whole weekend. His stuff was already at Ned's house; they'd dropped his bag off on the way. And maybe after that, maybe when next week was normal again, he could start thinking about everything else.

Liz's door opened and Peter's whole body flashed cold with terror.

"You must be Peter."

Said the Vulture. The guy behind the weapons deals. The one who had tried to kill Peter three separate times.

"Yeah," he barely squeaked out.

"I'm Liz's dad."

Peter's mind was rushing. Liz's dad, Mister Toomes, was the Vulture guy. He barely noticed shaking hands and being led into the house. All he could do was stare at Mister Toomes with his heart jackhammering in his chest.

The polishing of knives did not help, even though Peter thought distantly that Mister Toomes probably thought Peter was scared for a different reason. A much more normal reason than I'm Spider-Man and you're a villain and you tried to kill me.

Liz, when she appeared, looked beautiful, and on a normal day, Peter's brain would have shut down, probably. But now it was firing so rapidly, he could barely feel stunned. He did manage to shove the corsage at her, though.

Smiling for pictures took a literal superhuman effort on Peter's part. He couldn't decide if he was on the brink of panic or bracing himself for the fight of his life.

But Mister Toomes wouldn't attack him in front of Liz, would he?

The car ride back to school was worse than the house, even though now he was in the back seat and didn't have to look at Mister Toomes directly. But Liz was beside him and probably thought he was ridiculous with how nervous he was acting. If only she really knew.

He did try. He tried to make conversation as Mister Toomes (the Vulture) and Liz attempted to draw him out. He tried to talk about normal things, but they kept circling back into dangerous waters. Like about the internship. About Spider-Man. About the party that he left. About Washington DC.

But he knew, as soon as Mister Toomes asked Peter to stay behind for 'the dad talk.' He knew.

And his mind cleared, even though his adrenaline was still messing with everything else. He was scared, and he was bracing for the fight of his life, and he didn't have his suit, and nobody else knew. But his mind was clear.

"Peter, nothing is more important than family. You saved my daughter's life. I could never forget something like that. So I'm gonna give you one chance. Are you ready? You walk through those doors, you forget any of this happened. And don't you ever, ever interfere with my business again. Because if you do, I'll kill you and everybody you love. I'll kill you dead. That's what I'll do to protect my family. Do you understand?"

Peter heard the threat. He heard the vow in Mister Toomes's words.

And he still knew what he had to do.

Because Parkers help people. That's what we do.

And the only way that May would be safe, or Ned, or Mister Stark when he was pretending to be Mister Carbonell, was if he stopped Mister Toomes one more time. The only way he could keep his own family safe was to stop the threat that had opened Liz's door.

So Peter went into the dance, and left. He ached for Liz. She really didn't deserve this. But he couldn't worry about her feelings. Not with lives in his hands. Not with Mister Toomes perfectly willing to keep his promise.

He was so caught up in getting ready to follow his phone planted in Mister Toomes's car, he got ambushed. And for the first time, Peter understood just how much the suit had protected him in a fight since he got it. When he'd been in this shirt and sweatpants before, he hadn't dealt with much worse than a purse-snatcher.

Well, besides Loki. But Loki never really hit hard enough to hurt even if he pretended to.

But whoever was here to stop Peter from Mister Toomes's crew was here to kill him. And he didn't have Mister Stark's suit to keep him from feeling the electric shocks, the cut of the metal schoolbuses, the scratch of the blacktop.

And that made him doubt, for a moment. Could he even still do this without a suit?

And then Ned.

Wonderful, brave, loyal Ned was there with the old web shooter and that gave Peter enough of an advantage to take care of the guy.

"Ned, the guy with wings is Liz's dad!"

Ned stared at him. "What?"

"Yeah, I know. I have to…" Peter stopped. Took a breath. Took a moment to think.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," he said. "Mister Toomes is leaving town, so we have to stop him. I left my phone in his car, so you can track it. I'm going to follow him. You're going to have to call Mister Stark and tell him what's going on so the Avengers can come help. I...I'll try not to fight without them, but Mister Toomes is really serious this time. So...tell Mister Stark to come fast."

"How are you going to follow him?" Ned asked.

"I'll call you and you tell me where to go." Peter pulled his mask off and met Ned's eyes. "I'm going to be as safe as I can, but I have to do this. I need you, buddy. You in?"

Ned nodded. "I'll be in the library. And JARVIS will help, too, probably."

"He will. Thanks, Ned." And Peter threw himself into the night.

Stealing a car might not have been the best plan, but it was a plan, and since Peter didn't want to end up having to run across the suburbs all over again, he needed something besides his webs to help him. Besides, these old web shooters he'd stored at the school only had one cartridge of webs each and after that he'd be on his own. So he stole a car.

The fact that it was Flash's dad's car was really satisfying.

Now he wished he'd actually done some driving practice besides going slow with May in parking lots twice. Mister Stark and Mister Hogan and half the Avengers had all offered, but he'd been so busy…

At least he had Ned to guide him.

"Okay. I've got your phone. He just passed the GameStop on Jackson Avenue. I'm calling Mister Stark now."

Peter listened as Ned waited for the phone to connect. He couldn't pay too much attention given the whole yikes driving thing going on, but he definitely heard Ned swearing.

"What is it?"

"I got an automated message, sounds like JARVIS. I think I'm being rerouted."

Peter groaned. Mister Stark must be screening his calls again.

"Tell whoever it is that we know the identity of the Vulture guy and I need backup!" Peter gasped as he almost hit a truck and then all the cars parked on the other side of the street. "Even if it's just someone at a desk at SI, that should trigger JARVIS to take over."

"Right. Okay."

Peter tried to stretch his senses enough to pick up the other end of Ned's conversation, and he heard a familiar voice.

"Takeoff in nine minutes. Hello? Who is this?"

"Uh, Mister Happy, it's Ned. Ned Leeds."

"Kid I do not have time for your teenage drama tonight," Mister Hogan said. "Look, tell Peter to sit tight and we'll deal with whatever it is after we finish the move. Okay? Thanks."

"Did he just hang up on you?" Peter demanded.

"Yeah. Sorry. I didn't get JARVIS to help."

"Okay. Then text him. You've got a direct connection."

"I will. You're almost there. Turn right and you should be able to see it from there."

Peter shouted as he turned too tight and the car went up on its side.

"Ned, driving a car is nothing like driving in Mario Kart!" Peter yelled, jumping clear.

"Uh, duh."

"Fine. Look, just talk to JARVIS, please."

"I'm on it. But what are you going to do? Every time you fight that guy, Mister Stark gets mad at you."

"I know." And Peter did. "I'm going to try not to fight him. But he knows who I am, Ned. I gotta make sure he doesn't tell anybody or try to hurt May or something. But I'm just going to stall. Okay? Until Mister Stark and the others get here. That's all."

"Well, good luck. It's been an honor, Spider-Man."

Peter disconnected.

He made his way towards the warehouse where Mister Toomes's car was parked. He just needed to scout around and make really sure Mister Toomes wasn't going to call anybody or tell anyone about him and May right now. JARVIS would be telling the Avengers to scramble any second, so Peter knew that he wouldn't have to stall for long. Even if Mister Stark came alone in a suit, he could make the flight from the Compound to here in a flash. It would be okay.

(Later, Peter would find out that Ned got caught by a teacher and was delayed in sending the text to JARVIS by many critical minutes.)

Peter snuck in and followed his senses until he found a big open room where Mister Toomes was working at a bench.

But he hadn't missed what he passed on the way, including pictures of the Tower and blueprints of one of the smaller Quinjets. He hadn't missed that Mister Hogan was counting down the time to launch another plane full of Mister Stark's stuff bound for the Compound.

And now that he was sure of Mister Toomes's target and nobody was here yet, he definitely had to stall him. No matter what.

So he took in a deep breath and revealed himself.

"Hey!" He strode forward, counting the breaths in his chest and waiting for the crash that would mean help had arrived. "Surprised to see me?"

"Oh, hey, Pete. I didn't hear you come in."

He only partially paid attention to their conversation, still braced for the Avengers to show up. But there was something in what Mister Toomes said that made him angry enough to forget everything else.

"We build their roads and we fight all their wars and everything, but they don't care about us. We have to pick up after 'em. We have to eat their table scraps. That's how it is. I know you know what I'm talking about, Peter."

"You're wrong," Peter said. "You're completely wrong. Tony Stark cares about every single person in the world and he does everything to help them. The Avengers, they all bleed for every one of us. They fight monsters for us. I mean, yeah, having that much money isn't fair to anybody, but Mister Stark doesn't use it for himself. He uses it for all of us. Even you."

"Hmm. Interesting point, Pedro. But I guess it doesn't really matter."

"Why not?" Peter asked, his instincts blaring all of a sudden.

"Because I'm done stalling." And suddenly the Vulture wing-pack burst through a wall.

Peter evaded it easily; all his training with Loki had paid off and he was untouched when Mister Toomes began to smirk.

And then the building fell on him.

-==OOO==-

On another realm entirely, Loki's head snapped up in alarm.

-==OOO==-

Peter woke up in a nightmare.

Trapped in a series of memories that went around and around.

Uncle Ben, pinned to a tree by a car, dying.

Sandbags holding him down, crushing him in a dark room.

Helpless motionlessness in the endless dark under the control of the Mind Stone.

Darkness, crushing weight, and terror. They were his world. They filled him until he choked.

-==OOO==-

"Damn you and your self-righteous, short-sighted arrogance, Stark!" Loki began casting as quickly as he could. "If that child dies because you forced this vow of exile upon me, you will pay for his life in blood."

Loki had enough practice working with delicate magic while enraged, so it took him only moments to seek out his target and send his spirit soaring across Yggdrasil.

And yet a piece of his mind could not help but be distracted by a sudden desire to pray.

All-Mother Frigga preserve and protect you, Peter, for I cannot this time.

-==OOO==-

Peter couldn't have said how long a part of him was lost to the screaming void. Maybe it was only a few seconds. Maybe it was hours.

When he started to breathe again, every attempt at air was cut by sobs and shaking.

"Oh god." But he could hear his own voice, and that helped. It proved he was real.

And if he was real, maybe he could escape.

"Okay, ready?"

He wasn't, but if he didn't move now, he might not be able to try.

He was so scared.

With a grunt, Peter pushed as hard as he could, trying to free himself. But the beams and cement blocks piled on him only shifted before settling on his back once more.

Peter coughed and tore off his mask which was half-ruined anyway.

He pushed again, but he was pinned tight.

Panic broke over him like a tsunami.

"I'm stuck! I'm stuck! I can't move!"

Where were the Avengers? Where was Mister Stark? Weren't they coming? Wouldn't they save him?

How long had he been here?

Above him somewhere, something shifted and drove the pile even further down on his back. He could feel sharp edges cutting through his thin shirt and he could feel blood trickling from his skin.

"Please! Help! Somebody! Help me!"

He twisted and felt something cold against his sternum. There was a tug on the side of his throat.

For a moment, he was afraid he was going to suffocate, but then he remembered. It was Mister Stark's Saint Joseph medal. He'd put the watch aside, but he hadn't been able to, couldn't bear the thought of taking it off, too. It pressed against him now.

He remembered what Mister Stark...what Tony had said about it when he gave it to him: "Because it's not about the saint guy. It's about what it means from the person who gave it to you."

Other memories came back.

"You're stuck with me for life."

"Thank you for being one of the stars I can look up to."

"I've always said you're the best of us."

"I'm always proud of you, Peter."

Peter shut his eyes. The urge to panic started to recede.

He didn't have the suit. He didn't have the Avengers. If nobody was here now, nobody was coming.

Why? What if something happened to them?

What if they're waiting for me, in need of my help?

It didn't matter. For whatever reason, he had to believe he was on his own.

But Peter wasn't just the scared kid hiding from Hydra on the roof of the building anymore.

He wasn't just the kid who couldn't look a bully in the eye anymore.

"I just wanted to be like you."

"And I wanted you to be better."

The Mind Stone had chosen him. Mjolnir had chosen him. Odin and Loki had possibly adopted him. The Avengers respected him, liked him — even loved him.

Peter let out a slow breath.

"My family is counting on me. I won't let them down."

He drew in another breath, let it fill up his chest.

"I will be better. I will be better."

He shifted his arms and got his back under the center of the heaviest thing above him.

"Come on, Peter."

But that was wrong. He couldn't be Peter right now. Peter couldn't stop Mister Toomes and protect his family. Peter was still scared, still hurt, still unsure. Peter still hadn't fixed everything with Tony.

Spider-Man would have to be the hero for all of them tonight.

"Come on, Spider-Man!" he yelled. "Come on, Spider-Man!"

And the broken warehouse above him could only yield to his strength of will.

-==OOO==-

Spider-Man would have to remember to thank Loki later if he survived the night — all that training at high velocity had given him the reflexes to deal with remaining stuck to a speeding, invisible plane several thousand feet in the air while fighting off his date's dad who was, once again, trying to kill him.

But he didn't just have to think about Mister Toomes and his attempts to steal Avengers gear, which would not be good for Queens with his weapons dealing. He also had to think about the plane itself and where it was going.

And where it would land.

Spider-Man webbed up the tail of the plane as best he could and started to pull with all his might.

"Please turn! Please turn!"

He had to get it away from the city. It didn't matter if it took him into the ocean, as long as he didn't hit anybody on the way there.

With his heart in his throat, Spider-Man forced the plane down on the beach of Coney Island.

Of course, Mister Toomes just could not give up even then.

Mister Toomes hauled Spider-Man up into the air again, goring him with his talons. Spider-Man fought back, though, no matter how many times he hit the sand. But he was so tired.

He was tired and alone and he just wanted it to be over.

And then he spotted the Vulture wingsuit overloading. And now he had renewed energy because if he didn't save Mister Toomes, the man would die. He would die horribly in fire and Liz would have to live with it and Spider-Man just could not let that happen.

"Time to go home, Pete!" Mister Toomes yelled.

"I'm trying to save you!" Spider-Man yelled back.

And then the world exploded, blinding and yet more painful. Every inch of Spider-Man's skin felt like it was on fire, sand burned in his many wounds, and his ears were ringing.

But he still got up again.

He got up, and he found Mister Toomes, hurt, but alive. And he dragged him from the fire and webbed him up with some of his remaining web fluid.

Peter rubbed at his face. He was almost at his limit, but he just couldn't leave yet. Tony's stuff was strewn all over the beach, and anyone who got here before the police and the Avengers could walk off with it. It would start everything all over again. More dangerous technology in the wrong hands.

So he dragged himself, as if through cement and mud, across the debris-littered waterfront. He gathered up the spilled crates, the pieces that had fallen out during the crash. He piled them all up together near Mister Toomes so he would be easier to find.

Because Spider-Man looked out for the little guy. And that meant chasing stolen bicycles, and helping lost ladies, picking up dangerous litter on a public beach and, apparently, making sure a guy who tried to kill you wouldn't get lost in the debris.

"I suppose you want me to say thank you," Toomes said on the last trip back. "For saving me."

"No," Peter said. "I want you to be able to tell Liz you're sorry. She deserves that much."

"I guess she does."

Peter's senses blared and he had a feeling he was about to have company.

But, instead of relief, he just...he needed a minute. As much as any other time he'd stepped away from a crowd, he needed to breathe in the quiet for himself. His head was pounding and every muscle in his body hurt and he was still bleeding somewhat, and all he wanted was a minute to just...be.

So he abandoned the beach and climbed up the Cyclone.

The top of the roller-coaster felt comfortably far away from the chaos below. He sat on a cross-beam and leaned his head back.

It was over. Whatever came next, Queens was safe. The weapons were gone. The Avengers's stuff wasn't in the hands of criminals.

And Peter Parker was still Spider-Man. Even without the suit. Even without KAREN. Even without the Avengers to back him up.

He heard the familiar sound of repulsors coming close.

Peter let his eyes fall shut, and he smiled.

Chapter Text

Tony was not doing well this week. He'd fought with Peter and been chewed out by both May and Pepper. And he didn't have a thing to say to either of them in his own defense because he already knew he'd screwed up.

He'd made the one mistake he was most afraid of making, done the one thing he'd sworn never, ever to do. He'd treated Peter with the cruelty, contempt, and unforgiving hostility of Howard Stark.

Tony had never been so disgusted with himself. And he had rarely hated himself as much.

By Wednesday afternoon, Pepper had to order JARVIS to lock down the suit's recording of the whole exchange with Peter because she was tired of walking into the penthouse to find Tony watching it yet again, tired of finding him sitting there staring at Peter with his face pale as he relived the pain he had put into his child's eyes. Tony saw Peter's tears in his dreams when he bothered to sleep, and he heard that small, broken voice in every silence between the beats of his heart.

Of literally all people on the planet, Peter deserved that behavior from Tony the least. There was no excuse for him losing his temper and lashing out. None at all.

No matter what Peter had done, no matter the mistakes, Tony was the adult. He was supposed to be the one Peter could trust. He was supposed to do better.

When he wasn't torturing himself as Pepper put it (Tony was more inclined to say it was a valid punishment that he deserved to endure because he had no doubts Peter was still suffering more from being the object of Tony's behavior), he was building. It kept him occupied when Pepper shut down his feedback loop, and it kept him away from the rest of the Avengers team. Even though they didn't know what he'd done, he couldn't take looking at them and hating himself that much. So he hid in his lab.

If Tony lost sleep to building and coding, at least it saved him from thinking or dreaming.

And, as normally happened to him, emotional destruction resulted in scientific breakthroughs; he finally cracked the trick to nanotech. But once he got a basic schematic for an Iron Man suit together, he switched his focus.

Because if he was going to fix things with Peter, the very first thing he needed to do was give him back not just his suit, but a better suit. A nanotech suit with every stitch of protection Tony could devise, one he could carry with him anywhere anytime so Spider-Man would be able to fight safely no matter what the world threw at him. He was mentally dubbing it the "Iron Spider" suit. It would take ages to produce, but it would be worth it.

Friday night, Pepper called him through JARVIS while he was escorting the first Quinjet to the Compound.

"Tony, listen. I just want you to know that Peter...he's going to his first dance tonight. With a girl. And he...he told May that it was okay, that he wasn't ready to talk to us yet. But I think...I think he's still really hurt that he hasn't heard from you."

"I know," Tony admitted. "I know he is."

"And you're hurting, too," she said. "Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow? Just text him. Something. Even if you both still need time. I think…"

"You think," Tony interrupted, "that Peter's afraid that our fight means I'm not...means I don't love him anymore."

"I think," Pepper said, "that any kid would be afraid of that. Especially one who's lost so much."

Tony swallowed bile. "Believe me. I...I know."

"Of course you do. So you know what you have to do."

"Yeah."

He was just afraid. Afraid to reach out and be rebuffed, as he absolutely deserved. Afraid to find out that his kid hated his guts and would never trust him again just as Tony would never have trusted Howard. Afraid to learn about all the new nightmares he'd given Peter, the new fears he'd put into his own son's heart.

But one of them had to be brave. And because Tony burned this bridge, it was up to him to repair it.

"Fix this, Tony," Pepper said. "Before it tears you both apart."

"I will."

At the Compound, Tony and JARVIS used the Iron Legion and some of the larger, personality-less bots to move the stuff they'd delivered. There was so much he didn't want anywhere outside of the Compound once they switched their allegiance to Asgard, just in case. The plane Happy was loading that would take off soon was full to the brim of everything from prototype Iron Legion suits to arc reactors by the dozen and yet more recovered alien weaponry that needed to be decommissioned — and that was a job Tony didn't hand out to anyone if he could help it.

Tony was standing on the tarmac, avoiding eye contact from Steve and Sam (who were being annoyingly persistent about watching him), when there was a flash of green fire.

Tony was still standing beside his suit from the flight, and he stepped into it without hesitation. But it had only just closed around him when he saw maybe the last person he expected standing before him.

"Loki?"

"I am not truly here, Stark," Loki said. "This is an illusion. But I assure you, though I am stretching the vow I made, it is in vital cause. The only one upon which you and I agree wholeheartedly."

Tony froze. "Peter."

"He's in danger, Craftsman. Not quite mortal peril, but close enough that, were I not bound by the oath I made, I would already be at his side. And since I cannot go, you must."

"JARVIS, where's Peter?" he demanded.

"I don't know, sir. He is not wearing his watch and he asked me to absent myself from his room as well as his phone."

Tony cursed. "Find him!"

"I can show you where he is," Loki said.

"What's wrong with Peter?" Steve asked, jogging over. Tony distantly noticed Sam signaling for the rest of the team to come out in a hurry.

Loki's face was grave. "A building has been dropped on him."

"Oh my god." Tony saw his kid, younger, frailer, smaller, crushed under sandbags in a dark room.

"He lives still," Loki said. "But I fear even his strength may not be enough to preserve him for long. The structure is unstable and I dare not work upon it at such distance."

"Sir," JARVIS said. "I have located Master Parker's phone. It is in Brooklyn. And local security cameras show a building recently destroyed."

"How recently are we talking here?" Sam asked.

"Within the last twenty minutes."

Loki scowled. "The charm upon the Spider-Child to summon my assistance is not bound by the time differential between Midgard and Asgard. But this illusion is."

"Tony, go!" Steve said, and the shout brought Tony out of the near panic attack he was getting just thinking of his kid in that kind of danger again. "We'll be right behind you."

Tony blasted into the air, keeping the channel to JARVIS open so he could hear the others scrambling.

"Sir, I have just received a text from Ned Leeds."

Tony read the text and his heart dropped in despair.

Peter was alone against that Vulture guy, who happened to be his Homecoming date's father.

"God, Pete, you have the worst Parker luck. Seriously."

He had only just processed that fact when JARVIS lit up with yet another alert.

"The Quinjet carrying the second load from the Tower has been diverted from its course. It is in the process of crashing on Coney Island."

"It's what?"

And the pieces fit together. Because of course for those weapons dealers who specialized in alien tech, the shipment from the Tower would be the prize of a lifetime. And Peter had figured it out. Peter had tried to stop the Vulture — Adrian Toomes — all on his own.

And why was he alone this time?

Because Tony had cut off the trust between them. He had shut down their communication. He had left his kid out there alone to dangle. Exactly the thing he had sworn never to do.

"Goddamn it." Tony flew faster. "If that guy put so much as a scratch on Peter, I'm going to rip him apart."

Within minutes, he touched down beside the ruined warehouse. In the background over comms, he could hear the Avengers loading onto a Quinjet to head for Coney Island. But Tony only cared about finding Peter.

"Underoos!" he yelled. "Can you hear me?"

"Scanning. Sir, I do not believe Master Parker is still here."

"Still here as in…?" Tony asked, breathlessly.

"I have located a remnant of his original Spider-Man costume next to an area of the building that was overturned after the collapse. I conclude that young Sir was able to extricate himself."

Tony headed for the area JARVIS marked in his HUD anyway. He needed to see. He needed to be sure.

When he got there, he spotted a piece of fabric, torn and ragged. And the fact that it had lines of fresh blood across it did nothing to ease his pounding heart. But there was no body with it, and, like JARVIS said, it was clear a whole portion of the building had been moved.

"J," Tony asked, throat dry. "What's the math on this one?"

"I would estimate that Master Parker was required to lift at least ten tons of weight to free himself."

Tony couldn't help it. He bent double, gasping. "Ten...my god."

"Sir. There is evidence of one of Spider-Man's webs trailing from nearby. If he was indeed in pursuit of the Vulture, then it stands to reason he will be with the downed Quinjet on Coney Island by now."

"Right." Tony's mind was still spinning, but he threw himself back into the air. "Send an Iron Legion bot to pick up Pete's phone from wherever you found it. I don't want anyone else to stumble on it. And keep scanning everything around Coney Island. I want to know where my kid is twenty minutes ago."

"Yes, sir."

"Steve," Tony said. "The Vulture is probably with our Quinjet, and Peter, too. He's hurt."

"We're almost on top of it now," Steve said. "Trust me, Tony. If the kid's there, we'll find him."

"J, call Ned Leeds. I have one minute to Coney Island and I need info."

"Calling now."

"H-hello?"

"Leeds, you free to talk?"

"Um, yeah. I'm sort of waiting for my parents to come pick me up because I got in trouble at the dance for sneaking into the computer lab and I told them I was looking at porn so they wouldn't find out about Spider-Man."

"Oh my god." Tony did not have the energy to process that whole situation on top of this one. "Okay. Look. Is there anything I need to know about Peter before I find him?"

"Other than that Mister Toomes is the flying Vulture guy? Not really. Except he was supposed to come home with me after the dance and I guess that's not happening. Oh, crap — I gotta come up with a story for my parents."

"Tell your parents there was a change of plans and he's staying with me. But do not tell May."

"Duh, Mister Stark. And thanks for a cool lie that isn't a lie because I'm really bad at lying."

"Okay." Tony was circling down over Coney Island now, and he could see the plane's wreckage strewn across the sand. The Avengers had landed and were already searching the area. "We'll talk soon. You did good, Ned."

"Just...take care of Peter, Mister Stark. Okay?"

"I will," he promised. "I'll fix this."

He hung up just as JARVIS pinpointed a familiar figure hiding out on top of the Cyclone.

"Guys, I got Peter. You handle the rest of this."

"We're on it," Steve affirmed. "Just take care of the kid for us."

"Yep." He cut the connection to the comms, uninterested in the recovery efforts. "J, send an evac suit."

"At once, sir."

Finally Tony drew up next to Peter. The kid's head was back and his eyes were closed, his mask dangling limply from his hand. His hair was a wreck, and he had more bleeding scrapes than Tony could count in a glance. He was wearing the rest of his old Spider-Man onesie, and it, too, was torn almost beyond recognition.

But there was a faint smile on Peter's face anyway.

"Pete," Tony said, the helmet retracting. "Kid."

"Hi, Mister Stark," Peter said. And his voice was thin with exhaustion, but there was pride in it, too. "I swear, I really, really tried not to fight him alone this time."

"I bet you did, kid."

"Did Ned call you?"

"No, apparently he got busted for...you know what? I don't want to know. Anyway. Loki said you were under a building."

"Oh. Yeah. I was."

"Pete, are you okay?"

"I think so?" Peter's head finally came forward and he blinked his eyes open. "I'm sorry I crashed your plane."

"Hey, happens to the best of us. You didn't end up in the ocean frozen like a popsicle, so you've got one up on Cap," Tony managed. His chest was burning and he needed to hug his kid and apologize a million times and make everything right, but he didn't.

Because he understood. This was Peter's moment.

And therefore Peter would set the pace.

The kid's smile curled a little brighter. "I'm...really glad you came, Mister Stark."

"I will always come when you need me," Tony said. "Even if I'm fashionably late."

"Just after the nick of time," Peter said. And it might have been teasing and that meant everything right now.

"Yeah." Tony hovered slightly closer. "But now that the action is done, how about we get you someplace we can clean you up and figure out how many new colors of bruise you've discovered tonight?"

For the first time, Peter's face faltered. "Are you...sure?"

"I'm sure." Tony met his eyes and held them. "We have a lot to talk about, but the only thing that matters is that I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Peter's eyes fell shut and he nodded. "Okay. Yeah."

"You feel up to riding in the evac suit?"

"Warmer than being carried," Peter said.

"It is that."

"Besides." He cracked an eye open again. "You built it for me. I should get to use it at least a few times."

Tony could only huff a laugh. "Well, your chariot should be here right about now. Don't pass out on me yet, Spidey."

Right on cue, the evac suit that had been stored at the Tower appeared and opened.

"Need a hand?" Tony offered. It was either that or he would just…grab him. The way he desperately wanted to.

Peter shook his head. "Nope. I'm good." He was uncoordinated, but he managed to fall into it anyway.

"Yeah," Tony said softly. "Yeah, you are."

-==OOO==-

Tony stayed out of the room while Bruce and JARVIS rain their scans of Peter, just to give him some space. Peter had been quiet the whole ride back to the Compound, but JARVIS had assured Tony that he was still conscious, if dozing on and off.

Well, Tony could understand that. Anybody who had to lift ten tons deserved a nap.

The evac suit was equipped with pretty good sensors, so Tony had an idea of what the official medical scans would find, but it was nice to have it confirmed when Bruce came out.

"Honestly, for what he's been through, he's in amazing shape," Bruce said. "He's got bruises on his bruises, more cracked ribs, second degree burns on top of his friction burns, but no other broken bones this time. He's still dealing with a concussion and the muscles of his back were strained past the point of tearing, but they're already rebuilding themselves."

"When you put it like that, it sounds like a lot," Tony tried to quip.

Bruce huffed. "It is a lot. For any of us, it would be a stay in the infirmary for the better part of a week. But his healing is in overdrive right now. At the rate he's going, the surface stuff won't even last the weekend."

"So rest, food, and no more world-saving for a few days and he'll be fine?" Tony asked.

"Pretty much. He's tired now, but I think he's waiting to talk to you." Bruce looked at him with a knowing expression. "I take it you two have some things to work out."

"No, really? How could you tell?"

"You're not the only genius around here, Stark," Bruce said, smiling faintly. "Anyway. I'll box up enough food for three Steves and bring it down in a bit. You go ahead."

"Keep everybody out for a while, will you?"

"Sure."

And then Bruce headed down the hall, leaving Tony facing the door.

He took a deep breath and entered.

Peter was sitting propped up in the bed to an almost seated position. His shirt — what had remained of it — was gone and he was criss-crossed with white bandages. But his eyes were wide open now, and full of too many things to name.

Tony stared at him.

Peter stared back.

And Tony realized that Peter wasn't shrinking away this time. It wasn't like when he'd found out about Spider-Man the first time and Peter was so afraid he'd be angry. This Peter was steadier.

To be fair, Tony had already fulfilled all of Peter's worst fears, so there probably wasn't much more he could do to the kid.

(Well, there was, but Tony would rather feed his own beating heart to the sun than go there, so that didn't count.)

But it wasn't just that. Peter wasn't just operating from a place of fear now. He was coming from a point of strength.

The strength to stand up under a destroyed building.

The strength to face his enemy again with absolutely no backup.

The strength to do the right thing — because Tony knew all about Toomes being found on the beach swathed in webbing alongside all the neatly collected items that had spilled out of the plane.

His kid had nearly died tonight. Twice. And he had stood up magnificently.

And Tony was so damn proud.

"I was wrong," he said suddenly into the silence between them.

Peter swallowed — Tony could see his throat move from here — but he waited.

"I was wrong about everything the other day," Tony said. "But the thing...the thing I was the absolute most wrong about was even for one second thinking you could ever be a disappointment."

Peter's eyes widened slightly.

Tony moved towards the bed.

"Listen. What happened...what I said to you after the ferry...I am sorry about all of it. I should never have...I was out of control. I was so far out of line that I was coloring in a different book. I did everything I never wanted to do with you."

"But I…" Peter started.

Tony shook his head. "Let me do this, kid. You deserve to let me do this."

Peter fell silent.

"I am sorry, figlio." And he put his whole heart into it. "I was scared for you, and I felt betrayed, and I didn't listen. You were right. I also did just about the worst job of communicating with you ever. I could have told you at any time that the FBI had a sting set up and that they had it in the bag. I could have, and I didn't. I thought...I thought you just didn't need to worry about it."

Peter scowled.

"I know," Tony said. "I was wrong about that, too. Because you...you're too much like me. You try to hold up the whole world on your shoulders, and the thing is." He huffed a laugh that hurt a little. "The thing is that you can. Just like I can. It's our shared curse, kid. We carry the world."

Peter's face softened.

Tony gestured for permission and, when Pete nodded, perched on the edge of his bed.

"You didn't deserve what I said to you. And I should never have taken the suit or left you there like that after the ferry. I shouldn't have left you hanging this week. I screwed up completely, and that's all on me. And the things I said…"

His throat closed.

But Peter, being Peter, saved him.

"You weren't wrong about all of it," Peter said. "You did tell me to stay away. I could have called you instead of leaving school. I could have called you instead of going after that guy Aaron. I could have called you instead of sneaking onto the ferry. Those...those were the things I did wrong."

"Yep, you did," Tony agreed, but he was steadier now. "But I know why you did them, too."

"Tonight," Peter said, "I didn't...I really, seriously didn't mean to go after Mister Toomes alone. I thought I was stalling. I thought Ned would tell JARVIS."

"Yeah, Leeds got caught and used looking at porn as his excuse, so he is officially off the list of master spies forever," Tony said, and they both cracked a smile. "He told JARVIS, but not as fast as Loki got to me."

"How did Loki know what was happening?"

"Magic something." Tony shrugged. "It doesn't matter. He knew, and he couldn't break his promise to stay off the planet, so he showed up like a holographic diva and got us into gear." He sighed. "I...I didn't realize how much it hurt that you didn't tell me about Loki training you until after Siberia. I think I've been letting that get to me when I was upset with you. And that's on me, too."

"I wanted it to be you," Peter said. He looked at his hands. "When I first got the powers, I wanted you to be the first to know. But I was afraid that if I told you, you'd never let me do what I needed to do. You would try to protect me."

"You're right. I would have."

"But Loki…" Peter shut his eyes. "He helped me, but I helped him, too. I think he really needs more friends. So no matter what he was teaching me, I was kinda always...teaching him, too. It wasn't…"

"It wasn't what, Pete?"

Peter looked up at him. "It wasn't like what it is with you and me. And I want that, too. Like you teaching me science, or how to build bots. But with this stuff. I...I want to…" He trailed off.

"I hear you," Tony said softly. "I want that, too."

And he did. He'd teased Peter about making Loki his Yoda, and now more than anything he wanted that. He wanted to mentor the kid about Spider-Man the way he had everything else. He wanted to find out what the kid could do, how far he could stretch, and then push him farther still. He wanted lab days to be lab-slash-hero days.

"Peter," Tony said. "I am sorry I hurt you. I will never do it again. I promise." He looked away. "I hope you can forgive me, but if you can't, I won't hold it against you for a minute."

"I...I kind of already did?" Peter said, smiling shyly. "I mean, I was scared you didn't want me anymore...but May told me that families...they don't stop being families after a fight. And I figured...you always fix things. And you always save me. So...you'd definitely fix this again. And when you showed up tonight, I just…" He shrugged.

A weight lifted off Tony's heart. "I still hurt you, though," he said.

"And I broke promises to you and scared you. So...we're even?"

And for the first time in a week, Tony smiled for real. "Fair enough, Underoos."

Peter smiled back. His eyes drifted over to one of the monitors and he frowned. "Um."

"What is it?"

"Is that number right?"

Tony looked and identified which number Peter meant at once. "Yes, mini me. You have officially lost about ten percent of your body mass in the last few months in spite of your terrifying muscle buildup. Bet you don't know why."

"Uh, I really don't. Isn't that a bad thing?" Peter's eyes went wide. "Am I, like, going to have to eat a bunch more? Because I have to eat way too much already."

"No, it's not that." Tony gestured in the air for JARVIS to pull up a hologram.

And if he was relieved that they interrupted their emotional moment for science, well, at least it meant things were getting back to normal.

"JARVIS took a bunch of scans of you from the evac suit. We've been tracking a particular development for a while now."

"You mean my abilities are still evolving?"

"Yep, and apparently your body, too." Tony stretched the hologram of Peter's results, narrowing in on the skeleton. "Your bones have been getting thinner. At first we thought it was a calcium thing, but it's actually that your bones themselves and your bone marrow are all changing. Your bones are becoming more hollow."

Peter blinked. "Like a bird?"

Tony huffed. "Kid, I know you know your chemistry and your physics — are you telling me you missed out on entomology all this time?"

Peter wrinkled his nose.

That made Tony smile again. "Spiders, regular, non-mutated ones, don't have skeletons. They have exoskeletons. They also don't have anything resembling muscles. They use hydrostatic pressure within the exoskeleton to control their limbs. Their version of blood functions like the water in a hydraulic press."

Peter's eyes went wide. "So my bones…?"

"This," Tony said, "is how you managed to lift ten tons tonight. Besides enhancing your muscles, your bones have started to work like a spider's hydrostatic system inside its exoskeleton. You have two separate mechanisms to move stuff, and they're both impossibly strong. It's also why you can move so fast."

Peter was no longer looking at the scans. "The warehouse I lifted was ten tons?"

"Yeah." Tony dismissed the hologram. "Are you okay? That...I thought it might be hard on you."

"It was," Peter said. He looked at his hands in his lap, fidgeting with his blanket. "It reminded me of Uncle Ben, and the Halloween thing, and even being stuck in the dark inside the Mind Stone. It was really, really scary."

"Aw, kiddo." Tony looked away, too. "I should have been there sooner. I'm sorry you had to do that alone."

"No, it's okay." Peter shook his head. "I think...I think I needed it. I think I needed the push. I was so used to relying on the suit and KAREN, or you and the Avengers, or even Loki. I...I think I needed to do this on my own."

"Fine. You get one. But you're not facing any more supervillains alone. Not until you're a hundred and forty." Tony waggled a finger at him. "We clear on that, Parker?"

Peter chuckled. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He ran a hand over his head. "But, uh, about that." He sniffed. "I shouldn't have taken your suit. It belongs to you. And as soon as you're up to it, it's yours again."

Peter's eyes lit up.

Tony held up a hand. "With rules. Same agreement as before, but no more using the Odin Cheat Code. I want to know what you're doing and I want JARVIS to know. It isn't that I don't trust you. But I don't want...I don't want any of this anymore."

"I...I kind of don't, either?" Peter said. "Originally I really wanted to prove what I can do but...tonight I would have been a lot better off with help. And if…" He looked away.

"Kid?"

"I almost messed up bad," Peter said. "The plane...it could have hit a building, or a lot of buildings. It's...like you said at the ferry. People could have died, and it would have been my fault."

"No." Tony surged forward and put a hand on his arm. "No, I was wrong then, too. If someone got hurt, it would have been because of Toomes. Not you."

But Peter shook his head. "I pulled the plane down in the end, but I almost didn't. And I realized that I can't...I can't put proving myself ahead of the people I'm protecting. If you'd been there tonight, the plane would definitely have gone down somewhere safe."

"It's why the Avengers work as a team," Tony said gently. "Because not one of us, no matter how good we think we are, can do everything. We cover for each other, we protect each other, and we can do a hell of a lot more together."

"Exactly." Peter bobbed his head. "I...I need to do that, too. I get it now."

"Well." Tony patted his shoulder. "We'll have to talk to the team. I don't think any of us, me included, you included, is ready for a fifteen-year-old to be a full member of the Avengers. But we'll work something out. Not to step on your toes. Just to...be there. Backing you up sometimes."

"Yeah. I'd like that." He made a small smile. "I don't really think I'm ready to be an Avenger either. I'd rather just stay on the ground for a little while. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Somebody's got to look out for the little guy, right?"

Tony grinned. "That is a very mature decision, Pete. You definitely didn't learn that from me."

"It's probably because of Miss Pepper," Peter teased back.

"Oh, undoubtedly."

The tension in the room was steadily melting away, and Tony finally felt like he could reach out and put his arm fully around Peter's shoulders, gently drawing him closer.

"God, kid. I'm so sorry I hurt you, and I am so proud of you."

Peter returned the hug tightly, tucking himself against Tony's side heedless of his own bruises, burns, and cracked ribs. "I'm sorry I ever made you disappointed in me. I never want to do that again."

"You won't," Tony said. "Because whatever you do, whatever mistakes we both make, I'm never not going to be proud of you. You're my kid, figlio."

"I love you, padrino." Peter buried his head against Tony's neck. "That...that didn't change. No matter what else happened. It hurt, but it didn't go away."

"Real family never does. May taught me that, too," Tony said, holding on as best he could without putting too much pressure on the kid's healing wounds. "And, hey. Now that we've had a huge, dramatic fight, we got through that part of the parenting bit and we can just be chill for life now. Right?"

Peter laughed. "Sure." But he sucked in a breath.

Tony broke the hug and pulled back. "You hurting?"

"No, it's not that." Peter shut his eyes for a moment, then looked up into Tony's face. "It's just...there's one more thing."

"Name it, bud."

"I...when I said it after the ferry, it wasn't me trying to, like, manipulate you or anything. I really...I finally…"

Tony's heart swelled in his chest. But he held perfectly still, letting Peter do this in his own time.

Peter's face was so earnest, and a little pink, but his gaze remained steady. "Is it...can it be okay if I call you Tony from now on, maybe?"

Tony couldn't have stopped his huge smile if he'd tried. "It is so much more than okay, Peter. So much more than okay."

Peter's grin stretched to match. "Thanks, Tony."

-==OOO==-

Peter fell asleep after a sizable meal with Tony, who decided to camp out on a nearby chair just in case. But when he woke about twelve hours later, Tony was nowhere to be seen.

However, his Spider-Man suit was folded neatly at the foot of his bed. There was a note stuck to it.

"Your true task has just begun, and you may not know in your life if you have succeeded in it, but only if you fail."

Peter smiled, recognizing the quote from The Last Unicorn. It was something Schmendrick said to Lir when he became king, and Peter understood it better now than he ever had before.

Because he was Spider-Man now and forever. And he might never know if he saved the world, if he made enough of a difference, but he would definitely know when he screwed up.

And he was actually pretty okay with that right now.

Peter opted to spend the rest of Saturday at the Compound after confirming with Ned that he wasn't in too much trouble. He didn't really venture too far into the common areas, preferring to stay near his room and Tony's, but that was fine. He was ready for some quiet. And after the past week of hell, Peter knew he and Tony both could use some time to just be themselves.

Which is how Peter got his first look at the plans for a potential nanotech suit for himself. It wasn't anywhere close to ready yet, and the programming alone would take at least a literal year, but when they finally got to build it, it was going to be mind-blowing.

On Sunday, he caught a ride back to the city with Tony, who decided that apparently Peter needed a few more driving lessons if the evidence of Flash's car was anything to go by. Peter didn't actually ruin the car this time, but he half-suspected it was because of JARVIS taking over control at certain critical moments.

Once they got into the city properly, Tony pulled over in a parking garage. He reached into the back seat for the bag holding Peter's suit.

"All right, young buck," he said, eyes dancing. "Go show the world that Spider-Man is back. But take it easy or prepare for an Iron Man invasion."

Peter grinned, gave him a huge hug, and proceeded to do just that.

After four hours of patrol with KAREN chattering happily in his ear, six more would-be bike thieves thwarted, many selfies and directions given, a lost dog returned home (and thoroughly cuddled), and a kid's fly-away balloon retrieved, Peter headed home.

He crept back into his bedroom, his heart feeling light and full.

He was still sore in lots of places, and his skin still showed some evidence of the burns and bruises, but even the worst of his wounds had faded significantly. His ribs were delicate, but not grinding, and his back muscles pulled like he'd put himself through a killer workout. Which he kind of had.

He'd literally come through a nightmare of danger, darkness, and fire, and already he was nearly healed.

He and Tony were better than ever. He could call him "Tony" now, and it fit in his heart like it had always been that way.

He was going to keep taking care of Queens, and maybe join the Avengers someday, and that was something worth waiting for.

He was stronger than ever, physically for sure, and he felt steadier emotionally, too.

Peter looked out his window at the Manhattan skyline, pulling off his mask so he could feel the descending sun on his face.

Life was good.

Too late, he heard May behind him.

"What the FU— "