Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

‘‘Peter, I swear to fucking God - just, please... I- I can’t…’’

Tony looked at him with pleading eyes, his bottom lip trembling with emotion. He didn’t dare finish his sentence, but Peter knew exactly what he meant. 

I can’t lose you again.

Despite it all, the flames, the blood, the tears and the grief, a smile formed around Peter’s features. A gentle, comforting smile. He saw every ounce of hope die in his father’s eyes once the man realized what his son was about to do. 

‘‘It comes with the job, right? That’s what you always warned me about. I’ve always known what’s at stake, so let me finish what I came to do. Let me go out with a bang.’’

The last thing Peter ever saw was his father’s hand reaching out for him.

Make death feel proud to take us.

~

August 10th, 2001

‘‘Congratulations! You had a beautiful baby boy. He is completely healthy and a nurse is bringing him to the maternity ward.’’

Tony let out a long sigh of relief and slumped forward in the plastic chair in the waiting room. He registered Rhodey’s hand slam on his shoulder, the man obviously feeling equally consulted. 

‘‘What about Meredith? Is she alright?’’ Immediately, the doctor’s face saddened. Even if it were just a bit, just a glint of sorrow in her eyes, it was enough to make Tony’s heart stop for a second. 

‘‘She’s going into surgery right now. The eclampsia throughout her pregnancy, along with the severe blood loss made her go into cardiac arrest right after child birth. We managed to get her heart beating again, but she is going into the ER right now.’’

When Tony couldn’t manage to get any words out, Pepper spoke up. ‘‘Will she make it?’’

The doctor’s face still hadn’t changed to any kind of ‘unprofessional’ emotion, but Tony noticed the flash of sadness wave over her within the fraction of a second. For a moment, he felt like he had been the one to have a heart attack.

‘‘We can’t guarantee that miss Carrion will survive, but I promise that our team is doing the best we can to make sure that she will.’’

‘‘Alright, thank you, Doctor Ferrars.’’ The doctor gave a short nod and walked away. Rhodey let out another deep sigh and squeezed Tony’s shoulder. 

‘‘I can’t believe you’ve got a kid,’’ he breathed, obviously deciding to focus on the positive news. Tony could do nothing but stare blankly at an empty spot on the floor. ‘‘Yeah, I do, don’t I? Though he may have to grow up without a mother.’’

In an instant, Pepper stood up to kneel in front of him, firmly grabbing his face to make him look at her. ‘‘Hey, listen. You are not losing Meredith, do you hear me? She’s strong. I believe she will make it. Don’t think about the worst scenarios right now, you can’t have that. We’re here for you, alright?’’

Pepper’s steel gaze met Tony’s for a split second, and the man closed his eyes to take a deep breath. Pepper was always the one to ground him, the one to tell him to cut the crap and get back to reality. But he was already in reality, wasn’t he? He was on the verge of losing the mother of his child.

Even though he felt like throwing up, he didn’t show it.

‘‘Have you thought of a name yet?’’ Pepper asked. Tony simply shook his head. ‘‘I’ve always liked the name Benjamin,’’ she continued. Both Rhodey and Tony huffed out a breath at that.

‘‘Hell no, you are not giving my nephew some white-ass name,’’ Rhodey insisted, pointing a firm finger in his friend’s direction. ‘‘Don’t worry,’’ Tony pushed the finger away, looking almost disgusted by it, ‘‘I wasn’t planning to.’’

‘‘Hey! Benjamin is a perfectly good name,’’ Pepper exclaimed defensively. ‘‘It could be Ben for short.’’

‘‘Oh please, does this man look like Ross Geller to you?’’ Rhodey dramatically motioned towards Tony, who almost grinned. ‘‘No. Exactly. Because he actually gives names a thought and skips over the white ones.’’

‘‘I don’t know why you’re so stuck on this white thing.’’

‘‘Actually,’’ Tony interrupted, before any of them could say anything offensive, ‘‘I kind of agree with Rhodey. I want the kid to have an Italian name, though Meredith wants it to be something Spanish.’’

An ear-piercing loud silence fell over the three. Surely, Tony would get the opportunity to bicker over the baby’s name with his partner, wouldn’t he?

But the world is a cruel, lonely place. It gives and it takes. Life had been given, so now it had to be taken away.

Tony barely even registered falling to his knees when Doctor Ferrars came into the room, this time carrying a completely anguished expression. Silent tears fell over his cheeks and as soon as Pepper was in front of him again, he buried his face into her collarbone, almost choking on his sobs. 

He could feel Pepper’s tears drip down onto his neck. They sat there for a while. Time seemed to both stand still as well as pass by quickly.

The mother of his child was dead. He didn’t even get to see her after his son was born. He didn’t get to talk to her, he didn’t get to see her hold the small infant. He didn’t get to bicker over the name.

Tony’s feet almost dragged behind him as he moved towards the maternity ward. He didn’t even have to look around to see which one was his; he recognised both himself and Meredith immediately. 

Carefully, he lifted the baby up from his crib and held him close to his chest. He took a deep breath and counted. Ten fingers, ten toes. The boy’s eyes were closed. He had big cheeks and a tiny nose, along with pretty pink lips.

And in that moment, Tony knew that he would never be the same. He knew that he would never be able to love anyone as much again.

‘‘Hey there little guy, I’m your dad.’’ Tony smiled. ‘‘It’s just you and me now. But you’ll never be alone. I’m going to love you for as long as I live, my dear Mateo.’’

Mateo. Origin: Spanish. Meaning: gift, blessing.

~

December 18th, 2004

‘‘How could you leave right now? Just before Christmas? Mateo is really excited about this!’’ Pepper called as she followed Tony around in his Malibu beach house. Even for the middle of december, it was still insanely hot outside and Tony could feel the sweat pouring down his back. 

He sighed deeply and placed his hands behind his head to calm himself down. ‘‘Pep, like I’ve told you a million times before: I will most likely be back before Christmas.’’

Pepper raised an unamused eyebrow. ‘‘‘Most likely?’ That doesn’t sound very certain.’’

Tony didn’t respond and turned around to walk back to his garage. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest when Pepper followed him once again. ‘‘What about Mateo? What am I supposed to tell him when his dad isn’t back on Christmas?’’

‘‘He’s three years old, Pep! Just - tell him it’s not Christmas yet,’’ Tony offered as he raised his hands in the air. It was a stupid comment - he was aware of that himself as well. But he had to try to push this away the best he could if he wanted to keep his job.

‘‘Do you really think that Mateo’s not smart enough to remember all the things you said about Christmas being six days away?’’

‘‘God, Pep, I don’t know - just… I have to get to this stupid conference, alright? Obidiah refused to give me any clear insight on how long this is going to take, but it might end up being crucial for the future of Stark Industries. I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for Mateo.’’

Pepper wanted to argue; she had that look in her eye that told everyone who knew her well enough that she could be up all night proving she was right. But this time, she didn’t say anything. She just looked at Tony with a mix of disappointment and understanding before turning to walk back to the living room. Tony watched her leave for a while and then pulled out his phone to get the jet ready.

~

December 21st, 2004

Search helicopters were scanning every last inch of the area around the Stark residence in Malibu. Over fifty officers and FBI agents were walking on foot, each of them calling out for Mateo. Pepper stood off at the side, Rhodey hovering right behind her. Her body was trembling and her bottom lip quivered each time she took a gasping breath.

Rhodey had placed his hand on her shoulder, though it didn’t provide any sort of comfort or grounding. His eyes were panicked and alert; his body in a constant state of anxiousness, waiting for an attack.

Mateo had been missing for over nine hours.

There were two agents right in front of them, asking questions about the situation and where they had seen Mateo last, but neither of them registered the conversation enough to be able to respond. Not even Rhodey, who had faced war and death on multiple occasions.

The sound of a speeding car became apparent in the distance, the driver obviously having no sort of attachment to traffic laws. Happy.

Pepper let out a short breath at the sound and hurried towards the road. One of the agents went to go after her, but Rhodey simply held up his hand in a way that told her ‘not right now’. 

The car had been very crookedly parked by Happy, who had jumped out of the vehicle almost just as fast as Tony. Both of their faces were covered in panic, and Tony had obviously been crying mere minutes ago.

‘‘Where is he?’’ He demanded. ‘‘Where is my son?’’

Rhodey held out a hand to steady his friend, but the man was having none of it. Without saying another word, he pushed through his friends to get to the nearest FBI agent. 

‘‘What happened?’’ He asked the tall lady, whose coiled hair had somehow been brushed into a tight bun. Her expression was just as neutral as her stance, which told Tony that this woman was all about business. He liked that idea.

‘‘Where is Mateo?’’ He asked again, his breath hitching in his throat at the idea of losing his son alone. The woman held up a hand and clenched her jaw. 

‘‘Mr. Stark, I’m going to need you to calm down. Would you mind answering a few questions?’’

‘‘Not until you answer mine.’’

The woman seemed to respect his response and took out her notepad. Without looking back up again, she spoke. ‘‘This morning, Miss Potts woke up and discovered that Mateo Stark’s bed was empty. I recall that you put her in charge of the boy?’’

Tony nodded. ‘‘Yes. Yes, I did. Along with Colonel James Rhodes.’’ He frowned for a second, just now realizing that she was trying to get him to answer her questions instead of the other way around.

‘‘Where is my boy?’’ He demanded once again, this time his voice more firm and less shaky. The woman’s expression softened a little bit. ‘‘Sadly, we have no knowledge about his location yet, Mr. Stark. I have my best people working on the case and we are doing the best we can to find him.’’

Tony didn’t miss her not using the words ‘I promise’. The last time someone didn’t promise him everything would be alright, he lost one of the people he loved most. 

No. He wasn’t having it this time.

‘‘If you were truly doing enough, my son would be home right now,’’ he grumbled, taking a small step further. The woman didn’t falter nor move backwards a bit, but she did send one of her colleagues a small glance. When her gaze was focussed on him again, it was still completely empty of anything other than professionalism.

‘‘Do you have any idea who could have taken him?’’ The woman was obviously not beating around the bush anymore and did not care for any of Tony’s feelings in this situation. It didn’t help him calm down in the slightest. If anything, it made him more rageful.

‘‘I am a weapon manufacturer, of course I have enemies.’’ The woman raised an interested eyebrow. 

‘‘I never asked about any enemies, Mr. Stark.’’

Tony could do nothing but throw his hands up in exasperation, not knowing what else to do. He could see Rhodey slowly making his way towards him from the corner of his eye, as if the man was approaching a small deer.

‘‘Hey, Tones?’’

‘‘What, Rhodey? What? ’’ Tony snapped, suddenly feeling the anger being released from within him. ‘‘Are you here to tell me to calm down? Because no - I will not calm the fuck down! My son is missing! ’’

The FBI agent was now too trying to approach Tony, her hands positioned in a way that made it seem like she was trying to get him into a mental hospital. ‘‘Still, Mr. Stark, it’s very important that we all keep our heads cool-’’

‘‘Oh, yeah, sure. Because that’s all you’ve done so far, haven’t you? If you were truly looking you would have found my boy already.’’

‘‘Tony…’’ Pepper called out softly. Immediately, Tony felt himself relax a little bit. Pepper’s eyes were pleading when she looked at him. And for the first time that day, someone dared to promise him something.

‘‘We will find him, Tony. We will.’’

Later on, Tony would realize that it was a horrible lie she had been telling. He would see the amount of guilt the woman was feeling and he would have to come to terms with the fact that he may never see his son again.

But Tony didn’t know any of that yet. At that moment, the lie was the only thing keeping him steady with two feet on the ground.

That was, until the sun started to set.

‘‘It has been fourteen hours now,’’ Tony mumbled, his knee bouncing up and down in a frantic rhythm. He was hunched over on the couch in the living room, his hands tightly pressed together in front of his nose. Rhodey, Happy and Pepper weren’t looking any better.

Pepper had left for the bathroom about an hour ago and it had taken her over forty five minutes to come out. No one dared to question her about the red rimmed, puffy eyes.

‘‘There is still hope, Tones. For all we know, he wasn’t taken by anyone. We would have gotten a ransom by then.’’

‘‘So then what? Mateo just climbed out of his window and is now roaming around the edge of the cliff we live on?’’

Rhodey didn’t seem to have a response to that, but he tried to remain hopeful nonetheless. ‘‘Fourteen hours is still a very reasonable amount of time to be able to find him. Especially when we have the best people in the country working on the case.’’

‘‘‘Best people in the country’, my ass,’’ Tony mumbled angrily. He stood up to walk away. No one stopped him. He had barely even made it to his bedroom when he broke down into tears.

His boy was missing. Someone took his son away from him. And Tony had no idea where he could possibly look. 

He closed the door behind him and let his head rest against it, sliding down to the floor with a wet sob. His entire body was trembling with fear and sadness and the only thing he could think of was what Mateo would be feeling right now. If he could even feel anything at all anymore…

No. He wasn’t dead. His son wasn’t dead. Not yet.

Tony’s eye fell on the picture of Meredith on his nightstand. Slowly, the picture was picked up by his shaking hands. Tony held it close to his chest and gave a small kiss on top of the frame.

‘‘I promise, Meredy,’’ he whispered, suddenly having regained all of the strength in his voice, ‘‘I will find our son. Even if it’s the last thing I’ll do.’’

Chapter Text

October 17th, 2016

‘‘Oh, come on, Peter! You cannot possibly say that! How long has it been? Two, three weeks? That’s nothing!’’ Ned called out reassuringly as he waddled behind Peter, a pile of books unsteadily placed in his arms. Peter sighed deeply and stopped in the middle of the hallway to open his locker.

‘‘They usually reply within less than a week, Ned,’’ the teen reasoned, pushing his face into his locker in exasperation. ‘‘It’s over. I’m never getting in.’’

‘‘Oh please, if you’re not getting in, then none of us stand a chance! You’re literally the smartest kid in school. Hell, you’ll probably still academically kick everyone’s ass if you were in college!’’

Peter pushed his face out of his locked and looked at his friend. With a wink, Ned added: ‘‘And physically, of course.’’

Peter smiled and gave Ned a tiny nudge, making the boy nearly topple over with the unbalanced pile of books in his arms. Peter caught him just in time and took over the pile. 

‘‘Jesus Christ, what are these books made out of, rocks? Even I find them insanely heavy,’’ Peter grumbled.

‘‘Well if Penis Parker finds them heavy, then I could probably throw them all the way across the football field,’’ Flash called out from the other side of the hallway, cocking his head in a real conceited asshole-way. His goons snickered and gave him nudges in the shoulder, as if Flash had just won some presidential election with that insanely bad burn. Dickheads.

Peter and Ned simply rolled their eyes and gave each other a look: if only they knew…

‘‘Why do you carry around your books anyway? I thought you got a new backpack just last week?’’ Peter questioned, finally closing his locker with his shoulder, Ned’s books still in his arms.

Ned’s face fell and he placed his hands under his armpits in embarrassment. ‘‘Some of Flash’s goons threw my backpack on the roof yesterday after school,’’ he mumbled so quietly that Peter almost didn’t hear him. But he heard. And fuck, was he furious.

‘‘Why didn’t you tell me?’’ Peter whisper-yelled, careful to not let Flash or the others overhear. ‘‘I could have helped you. You didn’t deserve that, man.’’

‘‘But you were out as Sp- I mean, you-know-who!’’ Ned whined. ‘‘I’m not going to call you for such a stupid thing when there are people out there that actually need your help.’’

‘‘No, Ned. Listen to me.’’ Peter grabbed his friend by the shoulders to make him look him straight in the eyes. ‘‘You are still my best friend, and my top priority when it comes to stuff like this. I don’t care if you so much as scraped your knee. If you need my help, I’ll always be there for you.’’

Ned looked at his best buddy for a few more seconds before giving in with a small smile. Peter smiled back, glad that he had gotten through to the other boy. Then the bell rang. Suddenly, Ned’s eyes widened in excitement and he took a tiny leap to catch up with Peter as they started walking to class.

‘‘Dude, just imagine if Spider-Man had shown up to save me yesterday! Those guys would have absolutely pissed themselves!’’ 

Peter grinned at the idea. ‘‘Maybe we still can. Or at least next time.’’

Ned tightly clutched at Peter’s arm, his eyes growing impossibly wide. ‘‘You’d do that?’’ Peter’s grin slowly turned into a sly smirk. ‘‘For you? Oh yeah, any day. No one messes with my buddy.’’

Peter didn’t have a plan yet, but he knew that whatever it was, it was going to be big.

And for just a second, he forgot about his concerns about his internship application for Stark Industries.

~

‘‘May, I’m home!’’ Peter yelled, throwing his keys onto the kitchen counter. 

‘‘Hi honey! Did you have fun at Ned’s place?’’ May called back, not looking up from her magazine. ‘‘Yeah, it was fun. We built his new LEGO set. It was over 4000 pieces.’’

May quirked up her eyebrow, still not looking at the teen. ‘‘And you managed to build that in less than two hours? You should really make a profession of this.’’

Peter scoffed. ‘‘I should make building LEGOs my job?’’ He remarked, raising his eyebrows.  ‘‘I don’t think that’s a real thing, May.’’

‘‘Of course I don’t mean LEGOs, you doofus. Something like engineering, perhaps. It’s in your blood to become some sort of scientific genius,’’ she smiled, patting Peter’s head when he bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

‘‘You mean like my parents?’’

‘‘Yeah. Exactly.’’

Peter cocked his head, squinting his eyes, deep in thought. Eventually, he shrugged. ‘‘Yeah, I guess I could see that happening.’’ He plopped down onto the couch next to his aunt and reached for the remote.

‘‘And how was school?’’ His aunt continued before Peter was able to put on an episode of Modern Family. Peter simply shrugged in response. ‘‘It was okay, I guess. Just the usual boring stuff. Liz was wearing a new sweater.’’ 

That remark made May put away her magazine with a slight smirk around her features. ‘‘So, was she pretty?’’ Peter blushed slightly and looked away so his aunt wouldn’t notice. ‘‘She always is.’’

‘‘Are we going to have to talk about the birds and the bees?’’

‘‘Jeez, May! No! No, of course not!’’ Peter yelled, throwing his hands around to make the message come across. A deep, red blush started to cover his cheeks, and the smirk on his aunt’s face told him that she noticed. He stood up and walked towards the fridge to hide his embarrassment. 

‘‘She probably doesn’t even know my name, so why would anything happen? Besides, it’s not like I have a shot to begin with.’’

‘‘You don’t have a shot because you are too afraid to load your gun, Peter. Just have some nerve and at least talk to her! Who knows, she might be interested in you as well,’’ May said as she took a sip from her coffee. 

A sad smile covered Peter’s face, his lips forming into a thin line. He shook his head while closing the fridge door. ‘‘That’s not how those things go, May. She’s popular and I’m not, so I don’t have a shot with her. That’s just how it works.’’

He walked back towards the couch and once again picked up the remote, expecting the conversation to be over. Aunt May had other plans.

‘‘You will never find love with that attitude, honey.’’

‘‘Wow, thanks. Love you too.’’

They sat in silence for a while, both of them giggling at their respective sources of entertainment. When the clock struck seven, May closed her magazine and got up to prepare dinner. Within a matter of minutes, Peter already heard her curse something under her breath. A new record.

‘‘Oh, God fucking - I mean, damnit. Pete?’’

‘‘Hm?’’

‘‘Would you mind going to the store to get some eggs? I forgot to buy them yesterday.’’ Peter groaned but got up nonetheless, kissing his smiling aunt on the cheek. ‘‘Alright,’’ he replied in a mix of annoyance and defeat. ‘‘Organic?’’

‘‘Please. Go to Mrs. Young’s store, she definitely has organic eggs. And watch out, it’s already getting dark outside!’’ May called after him when Peter was about to close the door.

In his head, Peter groaned. It was seven o’clock. What could possibly happen?

~

‘‘Is this all, sugar?’’ Mrs. Young asked as she reached under the counter for a bag. 

‘‘Yup. I’m doing small shopping nowadays,’’ Peter smiled. His gaze fell on the uncomfortable stool the woman was sitting on. ‘‘How’s the leg doin’?’’

Mrs. Young frowned and took a step back to show the boy her cast. ‘‘For the love of God, would you rip this thing off me,’’ she joked - though Peter doubted whether she was actually kidding or not. Her face got back to annoyed quite quickly. ‘‘The doctors keep tellin’ me that I have to keep wearing it for another two weeks. But I know my body, I’m as fresh as I have always been. Those stupid doctors know nothing.’’ She sat back down on her stool very slowly, grunting and puffing with trouble.

‘‘Still, I don’t think it’s very wise to just rip that thing off. The doctors might come after you. Maybe they are telling you to wear it because they are afraid that you will beat them in a foot race.’’ Mrs. Young let out a short laugh and grabbed a small chocolate bar from the bowl on the counter. ‘‘Here, for keepin’ my business alive.’’

Peter waved the chocolate bar away, his expression softening. ‘‘No, please, Mrs. Young. I can’t take that. It’ll take away the entire purpose of me keeping your shop alive if you start giving me free stuff.’’

Mrs. Young placed the bar on the counter and tapped on it, her expression stern. ‘‘Tell you what, you take this as a ‘thank you for finally leaving’, alright?’’

Peter chewed on his bottom lip but then finally gave in, slapping the money for the eggs on the counter. ‘‘Alright, but I’m doing this for you, Mrs. Young.’’ The woman smiled back in response, shooing the boy away with her hand. ‘‘Just go. Say hi to your aunt for me.’’

‘‘Only if you give Cinnamon extra belly rubs for me.’’

~

‘‘How’s it goin’, Mr. Gonzales?’’ Peter quipped when he passed the infamous hotdog stand. The man merely huffed in response, clearly not wanting to make conversation. ‘‘Things are going shit. And you, kid?’’

‘‘Quite not-shit, actually.’’

Mr. Gonzales scoffed in annoyance, as if he was angry with the teen for having a somewhat good day. ‘‘Well, good for you. Now get going.’’

‘‘Come on, Mauricio. Let the kid tell you about his not-shitty day,’’ a man spoke up from against the building behind the hotdog stand. He had long, brown hair tied up in a little bun, which was covered up by his baseball cap. He was quite tall and muscular, but he seemed to be pretty nice and sincere. Peter could tell by the frantic look in his eyes that the man wanted to make friends and be social, but didn’t really know how. Mr. Gonzalez didn’t seem to like him that much, though.

‘‘Get outta here, kid,’’ the man said, without responding to the stranger, who in return spoke up.

‘‘I’ll buy fifteen hotdogs if you let the kid speak.’’

Mr. Gonzalez turned around at that, suddenly interested. The other man smiled, noticing how he got the vendor right where he wanted. ‘‘Make it twenty,’’ Mr. Gonzalez said. ‘‘Deal.’’

Peter stood off to the side awkwardly with one hand in his pocket and the other tightly wrapped around the strap of the grocery bag. The two men were making a deal regarding him as if he wasn’t even there, which, to be honest, offended the boy a little bit. Though his embarrassment was much greater than his annoyance. He didn’t even want to talk about his day anymore.

The two men shook hands (they fucking shook their hands over Peter!) and then turned back towards the teen; the stranger smiling sincerely and Mr. Gonzalez looking like he wanted to kill himself, but smiling nonetheless.

‘‘So, please do enlighten us,’’ Mr. Gonzalez began, ‘‘how did your not-shitty day go?’’

‘‘Well, uh, it actually wasn’t very special,’’ Peter blushed. Mr. Gonzalez smiled and threw his hands in the air. ‘‘Well then, that’s fantastic. We’re done here.’’ He turned to the other man. ‘‘Now, would you like a bag with the hotdogs?’’

The stranger rolled his eyes and grabbed Mr. Gonzales by the shoulders to turn him back to Peter. The look in his eyes was scolding and he was practically ‘tsk’-ing at the man’s antics. He made a weird hand gesture to Peter, telling him to continue.

‘‘Oh, uhm, ok. I received an A in English literature.’’

‘‘Great job!’’ The stranger called out. Mr. Gonzalez was visibly suffering.

‘‘And, my - uh - my, sort of, crush - she waved at me today.’’

‘‘Oh my God, when is the wedding?’’ Mr. Gonzalez exclaimed, sarcastically waving his hands in the air. The man behind him roughly squeezed his shoulder and he was put back in his place almost instantly.

‘‘Oh, and my friend and I have started up a plan to take back some asshole kids at my school,’’ Peter smiled, feeling both thrilled and proud about the idea. ‘‘Nothing bad, i promise!’’ He quickly added. ‘‘Just… some humiliation. To show them how it feels.’’

‘‘You gettin’ bullied, kid?’’ The stranger asked, suddenly looking serious. Peter aggressively shook his head. ‘‘No, sir. I’m not. Don’t worry. Just some mean kids.’’

‘‘My friend doesn’t like bullies very much. And to be honest, neither do I.’’

Peter laughed awkwardly, looking away for a second to avoid confrontation. ‘‘No need to worry, though. Because there are no bullies at my school. Yup, all clean.’’

Both Mr. Gonzalez as well as the stranger raised unamused eyebrows. ‘‘You sure?’’

‘‘Yup. I go to a science school. If any of those nerds were bullies, that would go against the laws of physics.’’

Neither men seemed convinced by his answer, but they didn’t pry. Peter’s lips formed a thin line. ‘‘Anyway, I gotta get going. My aunt is waiting for me. Good to see you again, Mr. Gonzalez. And nice to meet you, sir.’’

‘‘The name’s James. But you can call me Bucky.’’

‘‘Alright, Mr. Bucky.’’

Peter gave one last wave and then turned to run back home, suddenly realizing that he had been gone a whole lot longer than he should have. He only heard a little bit of the conversation Bucky and Mr. Gonzalez had.

‘‘You going to a party with those hotdogs?’’

‘‘Nah, I’m a big eater.’’

~

‘‘What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for almost forty-five minutes!’’ May pointed out, her hands placed on her hips in a scolding manner. Peter was still standing in the doorway, panting from having sprinted seven blocks and then jumping up the stairwell four steps at a time. Even with his enhanced endurance, he still felt like he was about to pass out.

‘‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I got lost in conversation with Mrs. Young and Mr. Gonzales,’’ Peter gulped, reaching for the crane shelf to get himself a glass of water.

‘‘Peter, you really need to stop trying to be friends with Maurice. He just doesn’t really like you,’’ May grinned, for some reason amused by her nephew’s humiliation.

‘‘You see, that’s where you’re wrong,’’ Peter pointed at his aunt with his glass. ‘‘Mr. Gonzalez loves me. He just… doesn’t know it yet.’’

May smiled at him. ‘‘Maybe there are a lot of things that you don’t know, honey.’’

If only Peter knew about all the things he wasn’t aware of.

Chapter Text

‘‘Tony? Are you even listening to me?’’ Bruce’s fingers snapped in front of the genius’ face, a mix of anger and worry evident on his face. In return, Tony slumped in his chair even more and pushed his sunglasses further up his nose.

‘‘Yeah, I’m listening. Don’t worry, Brucie-Bear, I’m all caught up on the plan.’’ Tony didn’t even convince himself with his little charade, but he couldn’t care any less. In fact, he was too hungover to care about anything.

Bruce sighed deeply and leaned back on the workbench. He removed his glasses and started cleaning them with the hem of his shirt. A move of which, Tony knew, was an indicator that Bruce was officially quite pissed off.

‘‘Then tell me the subject of the entire one-sided conversation we just had.’’

Tony gulped. ‘‘Oh, well, uhm…’’

Bruce smiled wickedly, though obviously still pretty angry. ‘‘Come on! The subject. You don’t have to mention a single detail, just the subject. In three words.’’

Tony simply blinked at him in response, though his expression remained cocky and paparazzi-friendly, just like it was whenever he had a press conference. Bruce didn’t have to know that his heart was in fact almost beating out of his chest. Honestly, the scientist was quite scary, now that he was thinking of it.

‘‘Three words?’’

‘‘More or less, yes.’’

‘‘Just the subject?’’

‘‘That’s all I’m asking.’’

There was a moment of silence between them. ‘‘Robot… radiation… shoarma?’’

‘‘For fuck’s sakes, Tony -’’

Without any elaboration, Tony stood up and reached for his coffee mug. ‘‘What? I’m sorry, Jolly Green, but maybe you gotta blame your conversational skills for this one. Because I’m quite certain that I would not have dozed off if your story hadn’t been this boring.’’

For the first time ever, Tony saw Bruce’s face turn into utter betrayal. If his stomach hadn’t been churning with the need to throw up, he would have laughed at the sight. ‘‘Wait, you fell asleep?! ’’

Tony waved the statement away, wanting to drink his coffee in complete silence. Bruce, however, did not intend to let this go anytime soon. ‘‘I can’t believe it, I thought this was important to you.’’

‘‘I’m sure it was important, I just couldn’t care less right now.’’ With that, Tony walked out of the lab towards the elevator. He wanted to get to the penthouse as quickly as possible to get himself some liquor. Maybe that would make him lose the hangover.

Bruce’s loud footsteps echoed throughout the hallway. ‘‘You know what, Stark? You are a real asshole, ’’ he yelled, stepping into the elevator after Tony. There were tiny lines of green noticeable around his neck. Well, shit.

‘‘And someone’s in a really bad mood today,’’ Tony replied. Fucking fantastic, Stark. Real smart, he thought to himself. Why don’t you aggravate the literal Hulk even more?

Something in Bruce’s expression changed, as if he had suddenly started to put the pieces together. ‘‘You’re drunk, aren’t you?’’

Tony scoffed. ‘‘Not yet, I’m not.’’

‘‘Tony…’’

‘‘Come on, why would you care? It makes me happy, so just… let it go, alright?’’ The elevator came to a stop with a small ding and Tony stepped out almost immediately. Bruce was left behind, looking bewildered and worried.

‘‘I’ll take a raincheck on that conversation, alright? I promise you’ll have my full attention then.’’

‘‘There’s something more behind this, isn’t there?’’ Bruce whispered softly, stepping out of the elevator as well, following Tony suit when the man made his way towards the kitchen.

‘‘Banner, I am really not up for this shit. You’re looking too much into it,’’ Tony remarked as he poured himself a glass of scotch. Bruce snatched the glass out of the man’s hand with his eyebrows buried deep into his forehead. 

‘‘Seriously, Tones. Talk to me.’’

‘‘There is nothing to talk about, Banner!’’ Tony snapped, slamming his hand onto the kitchen counter. Bruce jumped in response, taking a small step back. His face seemed hurt. Well, fuck.

Tony had never intended to be such an asshole. Sometimes he just was one. He wanted to push the people that cared about him away so he could sulk in his own misery for multiple days with empty bottles littering the entire floor of the bathroom where he would most likely be throwing up his last meal.

Meredith used to call him out on that. Tell him that he needed to cut the crap and deal with all the trauma that his shitty father left behind for him. He hadn’t really listened to her, or at least, not until she had died. But then Mateo was born and suddenly, he had something to fight for. Someone he needed to protect from his unhealthy way of coping.

Mateo was the one who truly kept him together. But then he went missing and Tony’s life fell apart once again. With almost twelve years of the kid being gone, all of the pieces of Tony’s soul were scattered on the floor of his darkened mind.

God, Mateo would have been a teenager by now…

Bruce seemed to notice that Tony’s mind was absent and that the man was hurting. He reached out for his friend’s arm and guided him towards the nearest barstool. Tony almost laughed when a glass of water was put in front of him.

‘‘This has something to do with Meredith or Mateo, doesn’t it?’’ The scientist guessed, sliding into the barstool next to his friend. 

Within an instant, Tony was slumped down once again, tears welling up in his eyes. ‘‘Today was her birthday,’’ he whispered. ‘‘She would have turned 43 today. God, it seemed so impossibly old back then.’’

‘‘Please don’t remind me of our age, you know I’m sensitive about that,’’ Bruce joked, knowing that it would calm some of the other man’s nerves. Tony smiled at the attempt, though he couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and ache until he had cried up all of his tears.

‘‘I didn’t really want to, uh, face - face reality last night. It's just… It reminded me of a little too much pain. Both Meredith and Mateo… I know that I promised to stop drinking and for the last couple of months I did, but then Mateo’s birthday came along and with that all of the other anniversaries… It became too much to handle.’’

Tony looked down at his glass of water with a sad expression. ‘‘So, last night, I picked the bottles up again and just kept drinking until I was completely numb.’’ He picked up his glass and let the liquid flow down his throat in a single gulp, just like he had done last night with much more toxic substances.

‘‘So, in conclusion: I’m sorry for not listening to your story. I hope it wasn’t all too important.’’

‘‘Actually, it kind of was. And you play a big part in it.’’ 

Suddenly, Tony sat up, interested. ‘‘Wait, why? What is it?’’

‘‘Tony, Nick Fury called this morning. He said that Rogers and the Rogues wanted to make amends.’’

Tony didn’t know how to respond to that, his mouth hanging open a little without any words flowing from it. It was a good thing, wasn’t it? The Avengers getting back together and being on the same page regarding the involvement of the government could possibly save thousands of lives. 

Though, if anything were to go wrong, it could absolutely demolish Tony’s life.

However, as much as Tony hated to admit it, he kind of missed his teammates. Sometimes he wished that things had gone differently, that they had figured out how to be decent to one another a bit sooner. Who knows, maybe they would have turned out to be quite good friends. 

Because no matter how much of a dick he could be to them sometimes, Tony actually liked having the Avengers around. Steve too, for some reason. He guessed that the constant bickering over the tiniest things with the supersoldier was quite a big part of his life back then. It even resembled amusement, at some point.

‘‘But that’s not all,’’ Bruce continued. ‘‘Fury informed me that, in order for the team to feel connected again, it would be wise to live together for a little while.’’

Tony almost choked on his own saliva. He looked at his friend, wide-eyed, his heart nearly tumbling out of his chest. He pressed his hand to his sternum, hoping the movement would make his heart stay right where it was supposed to be. ‘‘The Rogues are going to live with me? Without my consent?’’

‘‘Fury did inform us beforehand that he basically owns your soul, so actually, you did consent to this,’’ Bruce said matter-of-factly, reaching over the counter to grab an orange. As if he lived there.

‘‘That’s not funny, Bruce.’’

It took a while for Tony to understand the implications of the Rogues coming back, but once it did, he wanted to practically throw himself out of the window. Because with the Rogues came one person in particular that he wanted to keep as far away as he possibly could. 

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

~

Swinging through the busy streets of New York was the one thing that completely cleared Peter’s mind of all the worries he had. The feeling of flying through the air, making a free fall and then catching himself right at the last possible second was everything that Peter could possibly dream of. It was all that he needed.

No matter how much he loved his aunt May and his friends, New York would always be his true home. The one place that would never leave him. There weren’t enough words in the dictionary that could describe how much he loved this city. Even though it was quite shitty sometimes.

Like that night, for example. Though it had been a really quiet patrol when Peter first began, that didn’t mean that things couldn’t change about halfway. Criminals just love to come out right when Peter is about to collapse from exhaustion, don’t they?

Peter’s eyes were already halfway closed, fatigue flowing over him like a tidal wave. From one minute to another, he felt like he wanted to just curl himself into a tiny ball on top of the nearest building and let sleep take over. Peter knew that it was a bad habit of his to not return back to the safety of his bed until he could barely drag one foot after the other. He was working on it.

As soon as he felt himself losing control over his sloppy movements, Peter decided it was time to go home. He had already changed back into his normal clothes by the time he heard the sound.

It was a soft bang that ricocheted off the walls of the alley Peter had been changing in mere seconds before. Metal hitting metal, produced by force, though with a specific type of gentle care. Whoever it was, they were trying to break something heavy without drawing any attention to themselves. 

Peter quietly creeped back into the alley, noticing that the sound came from behind the large, wooden fence that was placed in the middle of the passageway. He climbed on top of a trash can to peer over the fence, noticing two insanely large men hunched over what seemed to be quite a secured door, barely eight feet away from him. There was only one light that hung from the wall above them, though it seemed as if the lamp didn’t receive enough electricity to function properly.

One of the men was holding a crowbar, trying to break open the door by pulling as hard as he could. All the while the lock of the door was being smacked by the other man, who used a gigantic hammer to induce more damage. Neither of their attempts were successful. 

‘‘Cut it out, Price!’’ The crowbar-holding one yelled, smacking his fellow criminal on the arm. ‘‘You are drawing way too much attention to yourself.’’

‘‘I can’t fucking see anything in this shitty light,’’ the other one grumbled as he fiddled around in his pockets. He pulled out a flashlight, which he clicked on before he turned it to shine on the lock.

But before it could, the beam of light was directed right at Peter.

Well fuck you too, Spidey Sense , Peter thought. He should have known that sleep deprivation would cause his powers to deteriorate. Which would explain why his fight or flight response kicked in just a second too late.

The crowbar-man had grabbed him by the collar before Peter’s sleep induced reflexes had any time to respond. Somehow, the man pulled him over the fence and dropped him on the ground as if he were a sack of flour. 

The other man placed his boot right onto Peter’s throat, cutting off the boy’s air supply. Peter reached for the man’s foot to try to push it off, but the man didn’t move a single inch. Even though Peter was sleep deprived, he still should have been able to kick some dude’s ass if he had to.

But for some reason, he was completely pinned down.

He could see white spots in his vision due to the lack of oxygen.

‘‘The fuck do we do with him?’’ Crowbar guy asked, sounding somewhat anxious.

‘‘What do you mean? He saw us,’’ the throat-step man replied sternly. ‘‘Now we gotta get rid of him.’’

‘‘It’s a kid!’’

‘‘We have done worse, Inclan. Killing a kid is not across our line.’’

Peter could barely keep his eyes open, but the mention of ‘killing’ made him come back to his senses. He flailed his legs and managed to kick the throat-step man in the back of the knee that wasn’t pushing down on his throat. There was enough force behind the kick to make the man kneel down a little, removing the pressure from Peter’s throat just enough to allow the boy to breathe.

He kicked a second time, now aiming for the man’s private parts, which caused him to be completely freed from the boot. God, breathing was such an amazing feeling.

The crowbar man was quick to react, swinging his fist right at Peter. The boy managed to catch it just in time and aimed a punch at the man’s sternum. He was sent back a couple of feet, coughing for air.

Boot man had reached for Peter’s leg and pulled, making the boy fall and smack his head on the floor. Peter could feel a hot substance slowly flowing down the side of his face and white spots were covering his vision once again. 

Boot man pulled Peter up by the collar and punched him right onto his left cheekbone. Peter tried to punch back, but he was soon cornered by both men who had managed to pin him down completely. His arms and legs were pushed down to the ground and all he could do was try to curl up into a ball the best he could while he waited for more punches to come.

And then, it hit him. It was indeed not just the sleep deprivation that caused him to get beat up so bad. These men were enhanced.

There were five punches to the stomach, three to the ribs and one to the face, right above the red spot that had been left behind from the previous hit. Peter felt like he was going to die.

He barely even registered the sounds of sirens coming closer, nor the feeling of the two men getting off of him when someone yelled at them to put their hands in the air. Peter had opened his eyes when he noticed the punches had stopped and saw at least twenty officers pointing their guns right at him.

Or, at least, not at him, but at the two men who had made him question whether he would live to see the morning mere seconds ago.

The officers slowly moved closer once the two men had gotten onto their knees with their hands behind their heads. Apparently, they knew who they were dealing with. Over fifteen cops were cornering the enhanced individuals, each of their guns loaded and pointed right at body parts that would cause fatal wounds. Two of the officers came out with cuffs that were made of thicker metal than any other cuffs that Peter had ever seen. Before he knew it, the two criminals were out of sight.

Only then did the officers deem it necessary to make their way over towards Peter.

‘‘Hello son, my name is officer Daniels,’’ the first cop to arrive said as he leaned over the teen to assess him for any injuries. ‘‘Could you tell me your name?’’

Peter gulped in response and tried to sit up, but officer Daniels gently pushed him back down. ‘‘You gotta stay there for a little while, son. We don’t want to cause any more harm to ya. Now tell me, what is your name?’’

‘‘It’s - it’s Peter. Parker.’’

‘‘You seem to have taken quite the blow to the head. Are there any other places that hurt?’’

‘‘N-no sir.’’

Officer Daniels frowned, looking at his colleague who was on the phone with a medical professional. She was glancing at Peter every few seconds before turning her attention back to officer Daniels. They seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes.

‘‘An ambulance will arrive soon and they will take care of you from then on. But for now, we have to make sure that there won’t be any permanent damage. So you have to be honest; are you injured anywhere else?’’

Peter was not stupid. He knew that his enhanced healing would take care of most of his injuries with just one good night’s sleep, as long as he hadn’t broken anything or gotten a stab wound. If anything, hospitals could only reveal his true identity.

So, he lied. If he had to get a checkup, then it would have to be of just his head. Nothing could go wrong with that, anyway. ‘‘No. Just the head.’’

The days that followed after that were filled with events that Peter, who was on the floor, squirming in pain, could have only dreamed of.

Chapter Text

Officer Daniels had comforted Peter numerous times during the ride to the police station that the boy was not in any kind of trouble. Although Peter couldn’t shake the anxious feeling in his gut, the man’s friendly smile and genuine concern about safety protocols made him feel a little bit better. Just a little.

The paramedics had let him go with a sterile gauze taped right above his temple and some painkillers for the constant headache that the blows to his head had caused. At first, the paramedics seemed insistent on wanting to do some more tests at the hospital to make sure there was no permanent damage, but Peter waved them away by saying it looked a lot worse than it actually was. Nothing that a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix. 

Speaking of sleep, Peter’s eyes were slipping more and more closed as the minutes went by. The police station wasn’t that far, but now that his body was allowed to fully relax for a while, he could feel himself slipping away into a dreamless sleep. He had to shake himself a couple of times to stop that from happening.

Oh God, what would his aunt May say? Sure, she wouldn’t be up for hours and it would take her even longer to come pick him up at the police station, but the two of them would most definitely be having a conversation that Peter did not want to have.

Officer Daniels’ soft voice cut through Peter’s train of thought. ‘‘We’re here. You still doin’ ok back there?’’

Peter nodded, too tired to give any verbal response. Officer Daniels smiled, though still seeming uncertain about Peter’s response. He opened the car doors and led the boy to the bullpen of the 110th precinct, barely allowing anyone to talk to any of them until they reached a large, gray door down a couple of corridors. 

For some unknown reason, Peter’s heart dropped at the sight of the interrogation room. Of course he had done nothing wrong and he wasn’t there for anything related to Spider-Man, but the sight of the metal table and the thick, concrete walls made his sweater feel just a little bit tighter around his throat.

‘‘Take a seat, kid,’’ Officer Daniels smiled as he gestured to someone in the hall, his own body blocking the door from closing. ‘‘Would you like anything? Coffee? Tea?’’

‘‘Actually, coffee sounds great,’’ Peter sighed, grateful for the offer. He usually didn’t drink anything with caffeine in it because it was way too much for his heightened senses and his ADHD to handle. It kind of had the same effect on him as cocaine did on others. Not a very great comparison.

Officer Daniels walked back inside, holding two cups of coffee. The door officially closed behind him and Peter tried not to flinch at the idea of having no escape. ‘‘Understandable. It’s probably quite difficult to have a proper conversation at,’’ he looked at his watch, ‘‘3:45 AM. Which brings me to the first question I wanted to ask you; why were you walking around the streets of Queens this late? Surely you have school in the morning?’’

Peter shrugged to mask his anxiousness. It was better to seem unbothered than nervous, he figured, because looking nervous meant that he was hiding something. ‘‘I was staying at a friend’s house late to finish up a project. When we were finished I walked back home. Then I heard this banging noise. It sounded like someone was up to no good, so I went to investigate.’’

Officer Daniels frowned at this, taking some notes to avoid eye contact with the boy. ‘‘You know that when you see or hear something suspicious, you should always run in the opposite direction and call the police, right? Never try to fight crime on your own.’’

Peter let out a short laugh at the irony of this. He gestured to his face awkwardly. ‘‘Yeah, I know that now.’’

‘‘So, you have no further connection to Inclan and Price?’’

Peter shook his head. ‘‘No sir.’’

Officer Daniels leaned back in his chair, almost looking disappointed by the boy’s response. ‘‘So, then you wouldn’t know anything about the third enhanced individual?’’

For just a second, Peter’s heart stopped. ‘‘Third?’’ He quacked out, sweat already starting to dampen his neck. He hadn’t been aware of a third person there. He was in serious danger and his spidey sense didn’t tell him about the third threat.

Peter could feel his stomach twist in discomfort. If he hadn’t been aware of a very dangerous person being close to him, who knows what else he hadn’t picked up on when on patrol. He relied so much on his sixth sense whenever he was outside, but now, he didn’t even know whether he could trust himself anymore.

What if he had missed out on other threats during his patrols as well? What if he was the reason why people died in New York, why they got hurt or why they were assaulted? All of that, just because he had relied on something that turned out to not be completely trustworthy?

‘‘Are you feeling alright?’’ Officer Daniels cut through the silence. When Peter looked up at him, the man’s face was covered with worry. ‘‘It’s already pretty late. I could get someone to escort you home and then we’ll continue this conversation in the morning.’’

Peter squeezed his eyes shut to wake himself up a bit more, shook his head and took a large gulp of his coffee. He could immediately feel the caffeine run through his veins. ‘‘No, that’s ok. Let’s continue. It’s better for the investigation to do this as quickly as possible.’’

Officer Daniels seemed to consider refusing the response at first as he sent constant glances to the kid’s black eye and bloodied bandages, but he eventually gave in with a tight smile.

‘‘So,’’ he continued, slipping back into his previous role, ‘‘from what I gathered, you had no idea that there was a third party involved in the attempted robbery?’’ Peter shook his head in response. Officer Daniels smiled at this. ‘‘Didn’t think so.’’

Peter’s curiosity got the better of him. ‘‘How did you know there was a third enhanced person there?’’ 

‘‘Members of my squad saw someone fleeing the crime scene right after we arrested Inclan and Price. They reported that the person was insanely fast - impossibly fast for a human. The only thing that my people were able to say for certain was that this person had the exact same wrist tattoo as Inclan and Price. Needless to say that we dove to conclusions.’’

While fighting the two large men, Peter had never noticed a tattoo on their forearms. Of course, he was way too occupied with other stuff that was much more important than the appearance of the people that were beating him into pulp.

Oh shit, what would May say when she saw the head injuries? Sure, Peter’s metabolism was fast, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough to heal some majorly visible injuries within about four hours. What should he say? He ran into a door? If that was the best excuse that he could come up with, Peter might as well say goodbye to his freedom forever. Prison was sounding quite nice, actually.

The voice of Officer Daniels pushed Peter’s thoughts away for the third time in the last eight minutes. Concentrating was really difficult at four in the morning. ‘‘But the third individual managed to get away from us. We need as much details as we can about the organization, so please, Peter, would you mind going through what happened step after step?’’

Peter’s brows furrowed in realization, suddenly seeming to understand the implications beneath the man’s words. ‘‘Organization? There is a network of enhanced criminals running around New York?’’

Officer Daniels’ jaw tightened and he opened a file in front of him. ‘‘That’s classified.’’

‘‘So, that’s a yes?’’

‘‘It’s not something you should concern yourself with, son.’’

‘‘Two of their guys sort of beat me to shit less than an hour ago, so I think I have all the right to concern myself with this however much I want to.’’

Officer Daniels stood up and started to pace the short length of the interrogation room as he ran his hands down his face, his palms ending up resting on his chin. ‘‘Peter, I understand that you’re angry, but you need to know that there are some things I am unable to tell you.’’

Peter didn’t listen to a word that the man in front of him had to say. Instead, he kept on prying. ‘‘What was so important about the place they were going to break into that you had forty cops show up? Why did you only take action now?’’

‘‘That’s enough!’’ Officer Daniels’ hand slammed down on the iron table, the vibrations of the movement nearly making all the items tumble onto the floor. Peter flinched back in shock, though his expression didn’t change.

‘‘I’ll let one of my colleagues bring you home. You will receive a call soon regarding further statements.’’

Peter didn’t let himself be told twice, obviously having noticed the tension in the cop’s shoulders and the frustration in his voice. There was no way he was getting more information out of him anytime soon. Maybe he should do his own investigating on his next patrol.

‘‘Of course, thank you.’’ He stood up and turned around at the door, which had been opened by another officer from outside. ‘‘Bye,’’ he mumbled.

‘‘Sleep tight, kid.’’

~

‘‘Having a rough night, Officer Daniels?’’ Agent Danica Duponte leaned against his desk, her height even more visible now that she was towering over him. Jacob didn’t miss her calling him by his rank instead of his first name. Where they had once been inseparable, he now felt like they were growing more and more apart with every conversation they had. 

He sighed. ‘‘I figure that you’ve already heard about what happened in Queens a few hours ago?’’

‘‘Regarding sirs Price and Inclan? Yeah, I’ve heard about that. The case has just been handed over to the FBI.’’

Jacob looked up from his paperwork, seeming both exhausted and betrayed. ‘‘They gave my case to the FBI?’’

Agent Duponte’s mouth formed into a thin line, almost as if she were holding back some information. Jacob frowned at her and leaned back in his chair with crossed arms. ‘‘Danica, we grew up together. I thought we were friends. What aren’t you telling me?’’

‘‘They handed the case over to me. It’s my team who’s now leading the investigation.’’

Jacob’s mouth fell open and he bumped into his desk as he stood up, multiple papers now scattered on the floor. Agent Duponte sent one disapproving glance to the mess, her exquisite need for tidiness sleeping through her almost embarrassed-like demeanor.

‘‘You - you can’t - why would you do that?’’ It was hard to even bring out the words. In any other case, Jacob wouldn’t have cared if some FBI prick stole the most thrilling case he’d ever had. But this was Danica for heaven’s sake. They had walked every single Black March in the history of New York together, fighting for their rights both as citizens as well as officers of the law.

When they had both started their jobs as 21-year-olds in 1988, the insane amount of racism and discrimination almost made them quit. They had never been hatecrimed or outright called a slur, but it was obvious that every single white police officer was either suspicious of them having other intentions or didn’t trust them enough with any task with any kind of responsibility.

When Danica had reached her lowest point in 1995, she had come knocking on Jacob’s door, an empty bottle of whiskey between her trembling fingers. The sergeant of her department had given a large homicide that she was in charge of to one of her colleagues, who had only joined the force six months prior.

Jacob had led her inside and rubbed her back when she threw up in the toilet, tears streaming down her face. They had made a pact that night. If no one was going to have their backs, then they should have each other’s backs. They kept this up for multiple years, even when Danica had been accepted to the FBI.

But then, at the end of 2004, things changed. Mateo Stark had been kidnapped from his bedroom and Danica was the one who was put on the case. After twelve years, her team still hadn’t made any progress.

Danica was sent down a spiral; her whole life started to revolve around this one case. From then on, the two of them started to grow apart. But they had never, ever, broken the pact.

Until now.

‘‘You already have Stark funding your pension,’’ Jacob snapped. He knew that it was a childish move, but he was way too angry to even care. Agent Duponte stood up from the desk, somehow seeming even more tall than she had ever been.

‘‘Officer Daniels, this is out of my hands. The case was given to me, I had nothing to do with it. End of story.’’

‘‘We had a pact, Dani.’’

‘‘Jake, please. You’re being selfish.’’

Anger flooded Jacob’s chest, an accusing finger already lifting itself in the air. ‘‘ I’m being selfish?! You- ’’

‘‘This does not just revolve around us, Jacob. There are people in danger. We need the most secure group to catch these guys, a small police department is not going to fix all of this.’’ Agent Duponte wore that same expression she always did - disappointed and almost mother-like.

Jacob folded his arms over one another, annoyed. ‘‘Why not just get the Avengers on the case then…’’

Before Agent Duponte could respond to this - maybe start to yell, even - the two were interrupted by a younger Agent. The woman was no older than twenty-five, and it seemed like she had run fifteen flights of stairs just to bring this information.

‘‘Agent Duponte,’’ she looked up at Jacob and gave a friendly nod, ‘‘Officer Daniels.’’ She quickly turned her attention back to the other woman. ‘‘Something just came back from the lab.’’

‘‘Did you find the fingerprints of the third enhanced individual?’’ Agent Duponte pressed, her eyebrows almost lifting themselves off her forehead.

‘‘Not exactly,’’ the woman responded, her eyes darting around the room, as if she were afraid someone was listening in. ‘‘The team has scanned the entire area for possible fingerprints.’’ She looked almost nervous for the next part of her story.

‘‘What is it, Dewitz?’’ Agent Duponte was running out of patience.

‘‘We put all the fingerprints that we found through the system to see if the third person was possibly familiar to police records. Inclan and Price came up in the system, but he wasn’t the only one.’’

‘‘I thought you said you hadn’t found anything from the third person?’’ Officer Daniels countered. Agent Duponte didn’t seem to care about her friend interfering in her case at all; she was way too occupied with other things.

‘‘This is not about the third person. It’s about Peter Parker.’’

‘‘Peter Parker has a criminal record?’’

‘‘No, he doesn’t. But he does have a fake name and a fake life. And I know that some people will die of happiness once they get to see him again.’’ 

Agent Dewitz only had to send Agent Duponte one look for the other woman to understand what she was saying. Jacob could only watch his friend take a few steps back in disbelief, her mouth hanging open a bit.

‘‘Lily, are - are you saying what I think you’re saying?’’

Agent Lily Dewitz nodded, a small smile forming around her lips.

‘‘Yes, Danica. We’ve found Mateo Stark.’’

Chapter Text

Peter’s mind was foggy with dust. His head was placed firmly on his pillow, the soft feathers inside of it feeling much too itchy. 

He had been awake for over 24 hours now, though his body refused to go into a state of sleep. Aside from that, he could feel his heartbeat bonking inside his head so loudly that he feared it was going to fracture his skull.

As it turned out, his ribs were not broken - thank God. Severely bruised, yes, but with Peter’s metabolism, that could be fixed within less than three days. It was now the night from Friday to Saturday, which meant that he would be fine again when he had PE class on Tuesday.

But that was not the issue that was clouding Peter’s mind. The constant state of pain his body was in was just a minor inconvenience, no matter how weird that sounded. Peter had been so tired before that he could barely keep his eyes open. Now, the adrenaline was surging through his veins, even when he only thought of Inclan and Price.

Or rather, of their organization. Because, apparently, a secret group of enhanced individuals had been working on illegal shit right underneath Peter’s nose. Peter, who was supposed to protect the people of the city.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

How could he possibly have missed that? A whole ass organization had been operating in Queens - Peter’s area - and he had to hear about it from a police officer? God, why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut? Officer Daniels might have given him more information, more clues on where to find these guys. But no, Peter had aggravated him into throwing him out of the precinct. Lord knows how long Peter would have to wait until he got new information.

Although, now that he thought of it, it might have been for the better. Peter knew himself well enough to know that if he were to have enough leads on where to find the heart of the organization, he would have jumped in right away to stop them, not allowing his body to heal first. He always fought better without bruised ribs and major head wounds, he figured.

Peter rolled over in his bed, his eyes searching the clock on his bedside table. 6:52 AM. May would most likely be up in less than an hour and Peter was obviously not getting any sleep tonight, so why even bother? Groaning, he slowly stood up and tiptoed towards the bathroom to look at his reflection in the mirror. He took a small step back in shock.

The gauze on his forehead was concerningly red with blood; it almost didn’t pass as a gauze anymore. Peter must have scratched open his wound with all of his thrashing in the sheets the last two hours. But that wasn’t even the worst part of it all. His black eye covered almost the entirety of the left side of his face, spread out from a part of his forehead down to the bottom of his cheekbone. The color had changed from a soft, light blue to a deep - almost black-ish - purple. No wonder his head was thudding so badly.

May was going to be pissed out of her mind.

Within a matter of seconds, every previous thought or worry was thrown out the window and Peter searched through the cabinets to snatch May’s makeup. Would there ever be enough foundation to cover all of those things up without looking like a carrot? Probably not.

And even if he did try to hide his injuries, he would still have the bloodied gauze stuck to his forehead. There was no possible way to explain that.

Which brought Peter to his final plan; lie to Aunt May about what happened. He was going to be called up to the station today anyway, so she was going to find out that he got beat up one way or another. He just needed a good reason why he was outside that late at night.

Maybe he could say he forgot something at Mrs. Young's store? No, that was ridiculous. Perhaps he was too awake so he went out for a walk? May would kill him, that’s for sure. 

But then again, if May were to be informed by Officer Daniels about what happened once the man would pick him up some time throughout the day, then she would get to know his previous lie about how he came home from working on a project at Ned’s. He could not have two lies live right next to each other, especially when it regarded his safety. The lie he told Officer Daniels would have to do, no matter how insane that sounded.

May would still kill him for that stupid reason, though.

Accepting his fate, Peter started to take some deep breaths to calm himself down. Then, he got to work and replaced the bloodied sterile gauze with a different one. He was lucky to live with a nurse, because he was quite certain that other households did not possess as many medical supplies as their house did. It was quite an advantage, considering his ‘job’.

Once he was certain that his face looked slightly less gruesome, he made his way towards the kitchen to start on breakfast. Only to find that he was not the first one to get out of bed.

The friendly look on his aunt’s face dropped instantly once she saw her nephew, her expression quickly making way for a horrified one. She dropped the pan she was holding, the metal clattering on the floor loudly. Her hands moved to her mouth shakingly and within a matter of seconds she made her way over to Peter to hold his face carefully with her trembling hands.

Peter took a small step back in fear of whatever her next reaction might be. He never wanted to be the reason his aunt was crying, let alone the reason she would be afraid to set foot out the door once he told her what happened.

Tears were welling up in May’s eyes, her eyes blinking rapidly to figure out whether what she was seeing was real. ‘‘Honey, what - what happened to you? Who did - who did this? How did this happen?’’

Gently, he pushed her hands down from his face and held them tightly in front of him. ‘‘I’m fine, May. I promise. I’m fine.’’

‘‘Like hell you are,’’ May snapped angrily. Her legs were shaking so badly that they were barely able to support her weight. Peter led her towards the nearest chair before she could topple over.

She wanted to protest by standing up again, her hands once again reaching for her nephew’s face. Her expression turned into a mix of fear, sadness and anger. A deadly combination, as Peter could recall.

‘‘Peter, I’m going to ask you this one last time. What happened?’’

Peter’s heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He tried to ground himself by kneeling in front of his aunt. ‘‘Aunt May, please. Please don’t be scared for my safety.’’

May stood up rapidly with flailing arms. ‘‘‘Don’t be scared for your safety?’ How on earth could I not be scared for your safety? For all I knew, my nephew was asleep in his bed last night, safe and sound. Then I wake up and see that he was beaten to a pulp by someone and he refused to elaborate on that! How could I not be scared?’’

Peter took a small step back, not knowing what to do to convince May. He smiled almost crookedly. ‘‘Because I’m fine! Everything’s fine!’’

May’s expression changed once again, her frown growing impossibly deep. ‘‘Alright then. I am not scared. But I am really, really angry right now.’’

Peter gulped. That didn’t sound good.

‘‘You went out in the middle of the night to get yourself beat up, Peter. That must be the most stupid thing you have ever done! Why were you out? What do you do at night when I’m asleep, hm?’’

‘‘Aunt May, please. I am not in danger, I promise. I was at Ned’s -’’

Before Peter could continue his insanely stupid lie and get scolded by his aunt, there was a knock at the door. Peter snapped his neck to the source of the sound in an instant. That had to be Officer Daniels. 

It might have sounded insanely mean and cruel, but Peter would rather have a cop tell his aunt what was going on than himself. It would spare him a lot of trouble, to say the least.

Peter turned his head over his shoulder as started walking towards the door. His aunt still stood there, all of the possible bad emotions in the world flashing over her face. ‘‘That’s the police,’’ Peter muttered. The small warning only made his aunt more fearful. ‘‘The police -?! ’’

There was another knock, more urgent this time. ‘‘They will tell you everything, I promise. It’s nothing bad. I didn’t do anything wrong.’’

With that last attempt at reassurance, Peter moved to open the door. But it wasn’t Officer Daniels who stood on the opposite side. It was a tall lady, who wore the most serious expression he had ever seen. Her hair was pulled back tightly in a bun that Peter knew had to hurt her skull. She stood up straight with her shoulders back and her hands placed behind her. She wasn’t wearing a police uniform, but a suit that was clearly made just for her. Peter was already terrified of this woman.

When the two of them made eye contact, however, there was a flash of something in the woman’s eyes. Something that Peter couldn’t quite place. Perhaps disbelief.

‘‘Are you Peter Parker?’’ Peter nodded his head in a fast motion and he pressed his lips together. He couldn’t even manage to bring out any words.

His aunt May was at his side within less than a second, her hand placed firmly on his shoulder. ‘‘I am his guardian, May Parker. Would you care to tell me what happened to my nephew?’’

The lady’s expression changed rather quickly, somehow looking even more stern than she had before. ‘‘My name is Danica Duponte. I’m with the FBI.’’

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. The FBI? How could all of this possibly have gotten out of hand this badly without him knowing of it?

‘‘I need you both to come with me. Everything will be explained in the 110th precinct.’’

When he stepped out of the apartment, May close to his side, he noticed that there were seven other agents waiting outside, every one of them keeping a close eye on both Peter as well as May. 

They were escorted to the outside of the building, where multiple large vehicles with tinted windows were lined up on the street. Peter was pushed inside one of the cars and May was about to follow, but she was stopped by one of the agents.

‘‘You will get there in separate cars,’’ the woman said, her voice sounding almost threatening. It didn’t take very long for Peter to figure out that there was much, much more at play than just a small interrogation. He hoped to dear God that it didn’t have anything to do with Spider-Man.

May gave him one last glance that told him she hoped he would tell her what was going on right that second. Peter’s heart ached at the sight. He never wanted to lie to his aunt. He never wanted to make her worry. And he definitely, definitely , never wanted to make her cry.

~

One hour earlier.

‘‘Sir? You have an incoming call from Agent Danica Duponte.’’

Throughout the last twelve years, there had only been a few sentences that had ever succeeded in getting Tony Stark to drop his tools. Whenever it was something regarding Mateo, the man would be up on his feet with a heart attack right around the corner. This time, however, he wasn’t alone.

‘‘Answer it, Fri,’’ Tony ordered, ignoring the weirded-out look of Steve from the other side of the lab. The two men had wanted to settle things together to ensure that their liaison would be stable enough for them to start living together, but the conversation had eventually ended up in Steve yelling at Tony for acting like a child and Tony ignoring him by tinkering with his latest project. Who could blame him? It was six in the morning for God’s sake.

The look on Steve’s face told Tony that the man hadn’t expected anyone - anything - to be able to get his attention that quickly.

‘‘Mr. Stark,’’ Agent Duponte greeted, her voice echoing through the lab. ‘‘Agent Duponte,’’ Tony replied out of sheer politeness. He couldn’t wait another second to get to business. Luckily, knowing Agent Duponte, she wouldn’t either.

‘‘Last night, there was an attempted robbery in Queens by three enhanced individuals.’’ Oh. Well, that wasn’t where Tony thought this phone call was going.

‘‘And?’’ He questioned with a trembling eyebrow. This didn’t seem to have anything to do with his missing son.

‘‘Two of them were arrested and one of them escaped. The first two were beating up a teenage boy.’’

‘‘That’s awful,’’ Steve commented from the doorway. His arms were crossed in front of his large chest and his feet were planted in a way that showed he wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon. Great.

‘‘My team started to look for fingerprints of the escaped criminal. That’s when they found something unusual. They also detected the fingerprints of Peter Parker, the boy who had been beaten up earlier.’’

‘‘And where exactly are you going with this?’’ Tony bit out. He had hoped that her call would have something to do with Mateo, but he should have known better. After twelve years, there was no way in hell they would find anything other than his son’s dead body.

‘‘Mr. Stark, the fingerprints of Mr. Parker were familiar in our database.’’

‘‘Danica, if you’re trying to get me to go after this kid as Iron Man, then just-’’

‘‘No, I’m not,’’ Agent Duponte cut him off. Normally, she would have sounded annoyed. But right now, there was something in her voice that Tony couldn’t quite place. ‘‘He’s not a criminal. He is someone we have been looking for for a long time. Someone you have been looking for for a long time.’’

Tony felt himself stumble backwards into his workbench. The cool metal poked against his back and made him realize that he was not dreaming. The world seemed to start spinning and Tony had to grasp the edge of the desk to ground himself.

‘‘Is it… is it - him?’’ The lump in his throat almost made it impossible to bring out any words. He could feel someone right there at his side placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Steve looked down at him with concerned eyes. Of course, he had no idea what it all meant.

‘‘We will bring him to the station for a final DNA test, but from what we’ve gathered; the fingerprints are a match.’’ 

Tony fell to his knees, panting, tears rolling down his cheeks. His bottom lip was trembling and his shaking hands went along with the rhythm when he pushed them against his jaw. 

‘‘Mr Stark, we have found your son.’’

There it was. The sentence that Tony had dreamed about for over twelve years. He had given up on the hope of ever hearing it a long time ago. He had pushed himself back into his addictions and stopped taking care of himself, all because he knew that he would never get to see his son again.

If only he could travel back in time to tell his younger self to not give up.

‘‘Agent Duponte, what station is the kid in?’’ Tony hadn’t expected Steve’s voice to cut through the silence, less to have it sound so determined.

‘‘He will be picked up in about an hour. We have to do paperwork first. Aside from that, he was exhausted, so he has to get a couple more hours before we drop this… news… on him.’’

‘‘And once all that is settled?’’

‘‘We will take him to the 110th precinct in Queens.’’

‘‘We will be there. Thank you.’’

There was a small noise of disconnection before Steve was kneeling in front of him, his hands now even tighter on his shoulders. ‘‘Come on, Tony. We gotta get you into some clean clothes.’’

Tony didn’t even know how he managed to speak, much less how he was able to make a stupid joke in response. ‘‘You just want to rip the dirty ones off me.’’

Despite the expectations, Steve grinned in response. The same old ‘I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that’ kind of grin that Tony had been on the receiving end of for multiple years. Right until…

When they finally got to Tony’s bedroom (with Tony having to be half-carried to get there), Steve placed him gently on the bed. He opened the closet door and pulled out a clean long-sleeved shirt and pants. Tony simply looked at a spot on the wall as he tried to let all of the information settle in.

‘‘You know, you never really talked about him. Mateo.’’

Tony’s jaw tightened at the idea of himself around 2012, when he was unable to even think of his own son without falling back into his old habits. ‘‘It was a sensitive subject.’’

Steve nodded understandingly, his lips forming into a thin line. ‘‘I get that. It was hard for me to talk about Bu- I mean… a friend of mine, too.’’

Tony didn’t miss the slip-up nor the implication of those words. Even the thought of the man who had killed his parents made his blood boil. Luckily, Steve seemed to pick up on this. The man walked up to him and helped him take off his oil-stained shirt.

‘‘Do you think we should call Pepper and Rhodey to come along with us?’’

 ‘‘ ‘Us?’ ’’ Tony repeated, his brows furrowing together in anger. Steve stopped his movements and looked up at his former friend, an uncertain smile forming around his lips.

‘‘Well, yeah. I’m not going to let you go there alone, Tony. Just look at you. You can’t even walk on your own.’’

Tony snatched the shirt out of Steve’s hands and grumbled. ‘‘Maybe not walk but I can sure as hell get dressed on my own. Now get out.’’

Steve simply stood there, his arms at his side. He was sort of waving between two motions; one to listen and go for the door, the other to stay and help out. Eventually, he settled on standing there firmly.

‘‘I won’t leave you alone right now.’’

‘‘I have made it fine without your help for the last year, Rogers. I don’t need you. Get out.’’

Just like he had expected, Steve didn’t move. Tony dragged an exhausted hand down his face and let it rest on his chin. ‘‘I’ll call Happy to drive me, Pepper and Rhodey there. I won’t be alone.’’

Steve seemed to accept this, one corner of his lips raising slightly as he nodded.

‘‘Good.’’

As soon as the door closed, Tony let himself fall backwards onto his bed, pressing the shirt in his hands against his face to sob into it.

He had found his son. His Mateo.

Chapter Text

‘‘Agent Duponte, I don’t understand what is going on. Where is Officer Daniels?’’

Peter’s leg was violently bouncing up and down in the small interrogation room. He had wiped his sweaty hands on his pants multiple times, though by now he had officially given up. He was confused, he was scared and he had been awake for about 27 hours by now. The sweaty hands were a part of him now.

He had only briefly seen his aunt May after the car ride to the police station. They had passed each other in a hallway; both of them being escorted by multiple Agents. However, they seemed to be a lot more strict around May than they did Peter. They even pushed her shoulder slightly when the two had made eye contact, motioning for the woman to hurry up. It had made Peter’s blood boil. May had nothing to do with any of this.

Agent Duponte sent him a weird look when he mentioned Officer Daniels, as if she hadn’t expected him to bring the man up. ‘‘Officer Daniels doesn’t take part in this case,’’ she simply stated, her voice sounding as monotone as ever. Peter had barely talked to the woman, but he knew that she was as robotic as a person could possibly be. It may be helpful at times, but right now, it was just downright terrifying.

Peter frowned at the response. ‘‘But… He was the one who had started the investigation last night. He said that his squad was in charge of the investigation.’’

Agent Duponte’s eyebrows shot up and for a fraction of a second, her expression changing into something that was not quite readable. Her mouth formed into a small ‘o’ before she spoke. ‘‘The case was handed over to the FBI.’’

After that, the silence fell over them once more. Clearly, Agent Duponte was not a person who liked to have small talk. Or regular talk.

Peter sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands. He was so tired. Agent Duponte seemed to notice this and went outside the interrogation room, quickly returning with a cup of steaming coffee. Nothing had ever smelled so good before in his life.

‘‘Mr. Parker, if you’re not feeling up to this, we can provide you a bed in our lunch room. Perhaps the couch will suffice?’’ Although the offer sounded insanely inviting, Peter’s need for answers was much greater than his need for a nap, above all when the only place to sleep would be in a public area. He took a sip of his coffee.

‘‘I just want to know why my aunt had to come along for this. She has nothing to do with anything. Why are you treating her like she’s dangerous?’’

Agent Duponte sat down on the other side of the metal table as she neatly stacked her already neatly stacked pile of papers and binders. ‘‘This is quite a serious case. We can’t afford to take risks. Especially when it concerns you.’’

‘‘She’s not hitting me if that’s what you’re worried about.’’ Peter folded his arms over one another. Why were they treating him like he was made out of glass? Sure, his face looked like a messed up blueberry pie, but he was not fragile. Aside from that, there was no reason to keep his aunt in another room, much less to treat her like a criminal.

Agent Duponte raised an eyebrow at his reply, curious. ‘‘If that wasn’t the case, then why would that be the first thing that comes to mind?’’

Utterly exhausted, Peter threw his hands in the air. ‘‘For fuck’s sake - I don’t know! Maybe because you are refusing to elaborate on why she’s even here in the first place.’’ Yelling in a police station at an FBI agent was something that Peter had never dreamed of doing. Now he regrets it.

Agent Duponte’s expression remained unchanged - something that bothered Peter to his very core. He leaned forward in his chair, trying to hide his nervous tics by blocking it with his body. ‘‘I just want to know what the hell is going on. Am I in some sort of danger now that I know of this organization of enhanced criminals? Do I need to go into a witness protection program along with my aunt?’’

Once again, Agent Duponte seemed somewhat surprised by what the boy was saying, almost as though she had forgotten why he was here in the first place. ‘‘Nothing of the likes. It will all become clear in a couple of minutes.’’

‘‘Can’t it become clear now?’’

‘‘No. Not yet.’’

Apparently, robot FBI agents had a flair for the dramatics.

Peter closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He decided to focus on all of the things he could hear outside of the room. Perhaps he would pick up on something useful.

There was mostly light chatter amongst policemen. A lady was shouting something along the lines of ‘wanting to talk to her lawyer’. It wasn’t Aunt May. Good. Maybe they were leaving her alone for a while.

No matter how hard he tried, he was having trouble focusing on one conversation at the time. Not only were the police officers talking insanely softly, his sleep deprived mind was not able to concentrate in any sort of way either. His ADHD didn’t help with that.

Peter was about to give up when there was the sound of multiple hurried footsteps thundering through the precinct. A man was yelling now. ‘Where is he? Where’s Mateo?’

Apparently it didn’t take super hearing to be able to pick up on this, because Agent Duponte was on her feet within mere seconds to walk out of the door. She told him to stay put, as if he could go anywhere. Peter ignored her.

She was back into the room along with another Agent before he could go back and listen in on the conversation more (although it had nothing to do with him whatsoever, but he was curious now). The new Agent had long, blonde hair with bangs. She seemed quite young and she had a very friendly aura. She was the complete opposite of Agent Duponte, who seemed like a vessel of nothingness compared to her.

Oh, God. Were they going to Good Cop, Bad Cop him?

‘‘Let’s begin, shall we?’’ The Blonde Agent said, a tiny sparkle evident in her eyes. She was excited for something. But what could possibly be exciting about this investigation? And what in the ever-living fuck was going on?

‘‘My name is Agent Danica Duponte and this is my colleague Agent Lily Dewitz,’’ Agent Duponte continued, gesturing to the woman beside her, who gave a small wave. ‘‘And we would like to ask you some questions.’’

Peter nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure whether he was prepared for all of this. ‘‘Alright. Shoot me.’’ Did that sound wrong in a police station?

The two women didn’t seem to care about his awful choice of words. They started out with some simple questions. 

Name? Peter Parker.

Date of birth? August 10th 2001.

Current parental/guardian situation? Parents died in a plane crash. Uncle was shot. Aunt is the current guardian.

But then the questions got a lot more personal and frankly… weird…

‘‘Do you remember anything about Richard and Mary Parker?’’

‘‘Barely. Mostly flashes of them. I can remember the way we were seated at the dinner table and how my dad used to tie my shoes, but that’s basically it. They weren’t around all that much.’’

Agent Dewitz chewed on the tip of her pen, her mind seeming somewhat elsewhere, while Agent Duponte sat upright in her chair; her gaze drilling through Peter’s skull. ‘‘Were they neglectful to you?’’

‘‘Were - were they- what? No, no, they weren’t,’’ Peter spluttered out, absolutely baffled by the question. ‘‘They were scientists, they had to work a lot.’’

‘‘Scientists, you say? Did they ever perform… experiments in the household? On you, for example?’’

In an instant, Peter sprung up, his hands wailing in the air. ‘‘No- no they didn’t! What does this have to do with Inclan and Price and their secret organization, huh? This is way too personal for my comfort and in all honesty; it’s none of your business!’’

‘‘Sit down, Mr. Parker,’’ Agent Dewitz hissed between her teeth. She had the same expression Aunt May did whenever Peter used to embarrass her in front of important people. ‘‘We will tell you what this is all about shortly.’’

Slowly, Peter lowered himself back into the uncomfortable chair. ‘‘So, there is something more going on? This isn’t just about what happened last night?’’

Neither of the women responded. Instead, Agent Duponte reached into one of the files and pulled out a photograph of a three-year-old boy at the beach. He had curly brown hair and big, brown eyes.

‘‘Does he look familiar to you?’’

Now that he was forced to take a second look, Peter indeed did recognize this boy. The eyes, the nose and the cheeks were all very familiar. Not to mention the smile. But god, where had he seen this kid before?

‘‘I know this boy from somewhere, I know it. I just… can’t pinpoint from where.’’

A glint of enthusiasm flashed across Agent Duponte’s eyes. It was gone before Peter could even register it. 

‘‘Let me phrase that differently; do you think this boy could be you?’’

Something inside Peter’s mind snapped. He took another glance at the picture, his mouth slowly falling open, and realized; yes. Yes, that was him.

Throughout his life, Peter had only ever seen pictures of himself from the age of six or older. Ben and May had been the only ones to take effort in trying to make a timeline of Peter’s childhood by taking as many pictures as possible. Whenever he asked about why there weren’t any pictures of him from when he lived with his parents, they simply brushed his questions away by saying his parents weren’t very into photography. Even back then, Peter had found the answer rather stupid.

There had only been one time when he saw a picture of himself at about four years old when he had spent a day with his aunt and uncle at the park. Indeed, that picture, too, had been taken by his aunt May. Sure, his hair was cut differently and he had grown quite a lot of inches, but the resemblance between that picture and the one that lay in front of him was uncanny.

‘‘It could be, most definitely,’’ Peter bursted out, surprised that he was able to bring out any words in the first place. His face turned into a frown again, this time so big that his head started to hurt even more.

‘‘Wait, h-how did you - where did you get this?’’

Agent Duponte’s cool demeanor shifted, and once again, her face changed into some sort of fondness, as if the woman had known Peter for years. ‘‘Someone from your past gave this to us. He has been in our system for almost twelve years.’’

Before Peter could respond to this unnecessarily vague statement, Agent Dewitz cut in. ‘‘Last night, your fingerprints were put through our system after we investigated the crime scene for the third enhanced individual. A match was found.’’

Oh God, this was it. They found out that he was Spider-Man and they would hand him over to the government and do experiments on him and-

‘‘Your fingerprints were a match for a kidnapped child.’’

A sudden chill swept through Peter, as though a cold wind cut through him. Peter’s body froze and he was unable to do anything but gape at the two women in front of him - his lips slightly parted. A stunned silence fell over the room, filling every corner and being so abundantly loud that Peter felt his ears start to ring.

‘‘We understand that this may be shocking for you-’’

‘Shocking’. That was the understatement of the century. 

‘‘-so we will be going through this process step by step.’’

‘‘The process?’’ Peter hissed out, surprising even himself with the ability to speak. ‘‘The process of what, exactly?’’

‘‘Of re-introducing you to your family.’’

His family. For the past year, after Ben had died, May had been his only family. The only person who would always be there for him and care for him. All that time he spent as a kid, hurting because his parents had died - only for him to hear that there had been people looking for him for twelve years .

He felt like he was going to throw up.

‘‘No, that’s - that’s impossible. I wasn’t kidnapped.’’

Agent Dewitz’s expression dimmed. ‘‘Peter, I-’’

‘‘No, you don’t understand! I had parents, I did! They died when I was six, I wasn’t taken from them when I was three. I have an aunt, I had an uncle - I already have family.’’ There was a beat of silence in which Peter just eyed the two women. He tried to look certain of his case - to be convincing to them that he was right, but he was starting to doubt it all himself as well. 

‘‘You’ve got the wrong person,’’ he finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

‘‘Your DNA was obtained from a cloth that was used to clean your blood in the ambulance. It was a match.’’ 

Peter’s headache started to worsen with each passing second. Suddenly, he felt like there were more than two pairs of eyes on him. The next few words that were spoken were only barely registered in his buzzy mind. ‘‘You are the child that went missing twelve years ago.’’

Peter was sure that he was going to pass out right then and there.

~

‘‘I cannot believe this. I seriously cannot believe this,’’ Rhodey gasped out from the front seat right next to Happy, who was breaking multiple traffic laws. He was trying to remain serious and stern, but it was obvious that there was a slight tremor in his hands on top of the steering wheel.

Pepper seemed just as shaken up as the other men. ‘‘Are we really sure that it’s him? That it’s Mateo?’’

Tony nodded absently. ‘‘The fingerprints were a match. They are now doing a DNA test just to make sure, but there is a miniscule chance that it’s not him.’’

‘‘Where has he been all this time?’’ Rhodey pondered softly, as if he hadn’t intended for the question to be spoken out loud. Tony’s heart dropped at all of the possible answers to that.

‘‘It’s not clear yet, but from what I gather, he’s been right here in New York.’’

‘‘Oh my God,’’ Pepper gasped out quietly. Her hand instinctively reached for her mouth.

‘‘How can you be so sure of that?’’ Happy asked. That was the first time he had spoken since the moment they stepped inside the car.

‘‘He got beat up in the middle of the night somewhere in Queens. That probably wouldn’t have happened if someone had kept him in Alaska.’’ Though he tried to mask it with some gratuitous sarcasm, the idea of his son having been beat up made his stomach churn. From what he could see in front of him, Rhodey felt the exact same way.

‘‘Who would do that to a kid? To your kid for Christ’s sake.’’

His kid. His kid. It felt so surreal. Tony still wasn’t completely convinced that he wasn’t dreaming - if anyone were to poke him awake by now, he would not be surprised. Devastated, yes - but not surprised.

‘‘I am going to see Mateo again,’’ he trailed off as he focused his gaze out of the window. The buildings were passing by at an impossible rate. The rest of the group seemed to take this in as well; every one of them trembling from the hurricane of emotions inside.

Friday had estimated that they would get to the police station Mateo was at in forty-five minutes. It took them twenty-eight. From the moment the four of them set foot inside the building, the panic was starting to rile up. They made their way to the 110th precinct with impossible fastness, almost tripping over their own feet.

It was only when they stepped out of the elevator and into the precinct that Tony realized how insane they must have looked. Almost every cop either turned their head towards the four of them or stood up with their hands instinctively reaching for their belts. Once they recognized who they were looking at, they all took a step back, unsure of what to do.

‘‘Where is he?’’ Tony demanded. ‘‘Where’s Mateo?’’ 

Flashes of memories were rapidly moving in Tony’s mind when he spoke those words; the last time, he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to see his boy again. But now, he was mere walls away from being able to hug him again.

Would Mateo still recognize him? Would he be just as happy as Tony and run into the man’s arms, knowing that he had a family now? What if his previous family had brainwashed him into thinking Tony was evil? They must have needed him for something, or else they wouldn’t have taken such a fragile child from his bedroom.

God, he really needed to see Mateo, or else he was going to go insane.

‘‘Mr. Stark, we need you to calm down,’’ a police officer said. The man was most clearly not with the FBI and he looked like he had been awake for an unhealthy amount of time. That was something Tony could relate to.

‘‘I am calm,’’ he bit out in response. Rhodey bumped his shoulder into Tony’s to ground him to tell the man that he wasn’t alone. Pepper was holding his hand on his other side and Happy was lingering behind the trio like a protective force. Tony immediately felt himself calm down.

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ he continued with a sigh. ‘‘I’m sorry, I am calm. I promise.’’

The police officer smiled at this and reached out his hand. ‘‘Good. I am Officer Daniels. You may call be Jacob.’’

‘‘Jacob, we really want to see Mateo. Please, would you tell us where he is?’’ Pepper sounded like she was on the verge of crying and Tony couldn’t blame her - he himself hadn’t been able to stop the tears from falling either when he had heard the news. He just didn’t have any tears left to cry, perhaps only of happiness.

Jacob told them that they first had to wait a little while until the news had been dropped onto Mateo. Those ten short minutes felt like an eternity. And when Jaboc gave a soft smile and nodded, leading the four to the back of the precinct, Tony felt like he was going to die of happiness. Jacob stopped right in front of a door and turned around. He mostly focused his gaze onto Tony.

‘‘There are a couple of things you need to know. Mateo - he’s kind of shaken up about all of this. He refuses to believe that what we’re telling him is true. You must remember that he won’t recognize you as anything other than Iron Man.’’

Tony already felt a bile rise up in his throat. In the first couple of years that Mateo had been missing, he was sure that the kid would be running back into his arms and never wanting to let go. He should have known that it was impossible for a fifteen-year-old to remember things from when he was a toddler.

Jesus Christ, fifteen.

‘‘But there’s more. I don’t know if you picked up on this during the phone call with Agent Duponte, but he doesn’t listen to the name ‘Mateo’ anymore. He spent his whole life thinking his name was Peter Parker. You will have to get used to calling him that. And lastly, a friendly reminder that Peter had a nasty encounter with some people last night. His face - it isn’t looking too good.’’

Tony clenched his fists at the idea. He was going to make those guys pay. But before he could act upon his anger, Jacob opened the door that led to the mirrored glass through which they could see the interrogation room. Tony’s knees felt weak when he saw the kid sitting there; his face a bruised mess.

That was him. His Mateo.

Taking another step closer to the glass, Tony pressed himself against the surface, his breath leaving behind a little cloud of fog. By God, he was beautiful.

His hair was almost the same as it had always been - a mess of dark curls that hung over his ears and forehead. It was now a bit shorter, but the kid clearly hadn’t done any work to it, so it had the same flow as it did back when he was a toddler.

The black eye, the bandage on his forehead and the little cut on Mateo’s lip made something twist within Tony’s body. He never wanted his son to look like that. Ever. 

But holy shit that was his son-

‘‘His eyes are the same,’’ Pepper whispered from behind him. Tony was too busy to look over his shoulder, but he knew that she and Rhodey had to hold each other to even be able to stand.

Tony focused his gaze onto his son’s eyes and then saw it. Yes, those eyes were exactly the same; he recognized himself in them too.

Mateo was a whole lot taller now than he had been. He was probably starting to reach Tony at this point. He was skinny and lanky, but it was clear that there were muscles hidden beneath his sweater. Did he work out a lot? Did he have a physical job?

The kid looked insanely pale and white, as if he had seen a ghost. His jaw was clenched almost painfully, his leg was bouncing up and down and his arms were crossed tightly across his chest. Everything about the boy said that he wanted to leave as fast as possible.

The voice of a familiar woman came through the speaker: Danica Duponte. ‘‘You are the child that went missing twelve years ago.’’

If it was even possible, Mateo’s face grew even more pale - the dark bags under his eyes now more visible than ever. The kid stood up abruptly, making the chair topple over in the process. Both Agents in the room stood up at the sight, already reaching for Mateo in case he would pass out.

‘‘I already told you - that’s impossible,’’ Mateo spoke and the sound was like music to Tony’s ears. ‘‘I had parents. I did. They’re dead.’’ Shock waves were sent down Tony’s legs and he could barely get himself to stand anymore.

‘‘Your real father - he is very much alive. And he can’t wait to see you.’’

There was a moment of silence and then Mateo looked at the mirrored glass, right at Tony. His lips trembled when he spoke. ‘‘He’s watching me right now, isn’t he?’’

Tony gasped and took a slight step back, bumping right into Rhodey’s strong chest. Both Danica as well as another Agent turned their heads around in sync before looking back at Mateo. ‘‘Most likely, yes.’’

‘‘Do I - Will I - do I have to - does he want to talk to me?’’ Tony didn’t miss the multiple slip-ups. The kid saw talking to him as a task, not a want nor a need. It made his chest hurt.

‘‘Eventually, when you’re ready.’’ The kid’s shoulders released some tension with those words. ‘‘Ok, good,’’ he sighed out.

The blonde Agent (the one Tony didn’t recognize) opened one of the many binders on the small table and clicked with her pen. ‘‘But before all of that, we must inform you of some things.’’

Mateo nodded with something in his eyes that almost looked like fear. His leg started to bounce up and down even faster. 

‘‘You know who Tony Stark is, correct?’’ The kid nodded hesitantly.

‘‘And I bet you have also heard of the case of his son, Mateo Stark?’’

The boy nodded again, confusion evident on his face. ‘‘Yes, yes I have but I don’t understand - oh. ’’

Thousands of emotions flashed across Mateo’s face and within a matter of seconds, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he toppled over onto the floor.

Chapter Text

When Peter’s mind became clear enough, all he could register were some voices around him echoing and banging on the inside of his skull. A set of fingers was wrapped around his wrist - most likely to check for his pulse.

It took a concerningly long amount of time for him to realize that he was on the floor. Opening his eyes, he noticed two sort of familiar faces in front of him; both of them still looking too blurry for him to figure out who they were. That was, until he recognized the badges around their necks. FBI.

From then on, it was a tidal wave of information that came over him, drowning him in all sorts of emotions. He looked at the two women with his eyes somehow both halfway closed as well as wide open with fear.

‘‘Peter, hey, kid. Are you alright?’’

Peter didn’t say anything; he couldn’t. His chapped lips parted, but any words his buzzing mind conjured disappeared before they could roll off his tongue. Every time he looked at his surroundings or the two concerned faces in front of him, he lost the ability to think, speak, or do anything. He could only feel. What he felt was nothing, yet everything all at once. All of that is too much for a normal person to handle.

But Peter wasn’t normal - though now he wished he was.

So, Tony Stark was his father. That was something he certainly hadn’t expected. Some part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all and look around for the hidden cameras. Because it had to be a joke, right? There was no possible way that-

There was a bang at the door and a rattling of the handle. Agents Duponte and Dewitz quickly turned their heads toward the sound. Peter had to strain his tired ears to be able to make out what the soundmaker was saying. If he had gotten some sleep last night, maybe he wouldn’t have passed out at all. How embarrassing.

‘‘Open the door,’’ someone growled, though it was not directed at anyone in the room. ‘‘I want to get in, let me in!’’

Peter’s heart leaped up to his throat. That did sound an awful lot like Tony Stark - the man who was supposedly his father. Once again, he felt his hands starting to sweat.

Another familiar voice cut in on the other side of the door. ‘‘Mr. Stark, please. You can’t ambush him like that. Why do you think he passed out in the first place?’’ Officer Daniels. So, he was still around. Though Peter had barely ever met the man, he was quite comforted with the idea of him being close to keep an eye on him. He was a lot less uptight than Agent Duponte. Agent Dewitz was also a fairly sweet and calm person, but it was obvious that she was being influenced by Duponte, which caused her to push back on the kindness a little and focus more on the technical aspects of her job. That’s quite a deterioration when you have to tell people their loved one got murdered, Peter figured.

‘‘He got beat up last night, Jacob. For all we know, he could have some brain damage.’’ Ouch?

Slowly, Peter sat up a little more, much to the disdain of the two agents in front of him. Dewitz had her hands placed on his chest to push him back down to the ground. ‘‘With all of your head injuries, it’s better if we take this slow, Peter,’’ she informed.

The conversation on the other side of the door went on as Agent Duponte grabbed a cup of water from the table. ‘‘Mr. Stark, please. You have to listen to me.’’

With the confirmation of the name, Peter felt like he was going to pass out all over again.

‘‘Do you really think it’s a smart idea to ambush him after he has been plummeted with so much information at once?’’ There was a beat of silence and then a sigh followed. 

‘‘Exactly,’’ Officer Daniels continued. ‘‘So, please. Stay calm, we’ll go and fix this, alright?’’ There were a couple of footsteps and then the door opened, revealing a tired looking Officer Daniels.

‘‘You have experienced more movie-worthy things in 5 hours than I have seen this entire year, that’s quite a record’’ he smiled as he also kneeled down in front of the boy. Peter simply smiled back. ‘‘That’s me, I love record-breaking.’’

‘‘Did you hit your head again?’’ Agent Duponte cut in, worry evident on her face. Peter slowly shook his head. ‘‘No, I don’t think so. Besides, there’s not a lot of places on my skull that haven’t been hit yet.’’

The three adults took his ability to make jokes as a sign that he could sit back up again. The remaining bit of water that was left in the cup that had been pushed in his hands was devoured in less than a second. Agent Dewitz raised her eyebrows in amusement.

‘‘I guess I’ll go and fill that up for you.’’ Without saying another word, she left the room. Peter leaned back against the wall and started taking slow breaths.

‘‘Are you doing alright?’’ Officer Daniels asked. He crossed his legs in front of him to get more comfortable, as if they were going to continue the investigation on the floor. In all honesty, that didn’t sound all that bad.

‘‘I’m still sane, luckily enough.’’ 

Agent Duponte frowned at his response. ‘‘If this is all becoming too much for you, we are happy to continue this in a couple of hours. The offer of the couch in the lunchroom still stands.’’

Peter shook his head at this and made a weird waving gesture with his hand. ‘‘No, no. No need for that. I just… I wanna get this over with as quickly as possible so I can see my aunt again.’’

The two adults in front of him exchanged glances that told Peter there was something they weren’t telling him. Now it was Agent Duponte’s turn to get into a more comfortable position on the floor. ‘‘Peter, I - we hate to have to tell you this, but you won’t be able to see your aunt for a while.’’

Peter couldn’t do anything but gape at her, his mouth opening and closing rapidly as he tried to bring out words. ‘‘W-what - what? Why not? You can’t - you can’t do that!’’ His arms were flailing about as he spoke.  ‘‘You can’t stop me from seeing her!’’ 

Agent Duponte raised her hand and pushed it back down with a slow passage. ‘‘Once we have enough proof that she was not involved in your kidnapping, you two will be free to speak to each other again.’’

‘‘But she wasn’t involved in any kidnapping! She’s my aunt, she loves me. She would never do that to me.’’

‘‘Until we have enough evidence to support that statement, we can’t rule anything out.’’

‘‘But-’’

‘‘Peter,’’ Officer Daniels cut in, his voice so deep and calming that the boy couldn’t do anything but obey. ‘‘Until less than an hour ago, you thought she was your aunt. Now it turns out; that wasn’t true. Does it really sound so impossible that there may be some other things that you don’t know?’’

Peter’s jaw clenched almost painfully. How dare they? How dare they accuse the woman who has done nothing but love him for the past few years? What happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’?

‘‘You don’t know her like I do,’’ he bit out, the hint of venom seeping through his voice. ‘‘You know nothing about her - or me, for that matter.’’

‘‘Peter, please-’’

‘‘I want to go home.’’

‘‘After we fill out all of the paperwork, you will be reunited with you family.’’

Peter shook his head and crossed his arms. ‘‘No. I said, I want to go home. That’s not home.’’

~

‘‘Tony, he doesn’t mean that.’’ Pepper tried to take a step closer to him, but for some reason seemed too reluctant to even reach out and touch him. Tony violently bit his lip, shaking his head as he did so. Even now, he refused to take his eyes off his son.

‘‘He does, Pep. He means it. He wants nothing to do with me.’’

‘‘This is all very scary to him. You would have reacted the same way if you found out your entire life was a lie.’’

Tony tried to see the kid’s perspective - he really did. He couldn’t even imagine what it was like for him to find out his parents weren’t his actual parents and that he had been kidnapped when he was three years old. The idea alone sent a shiver down his spine.

But still, he couldn’t help but feel like he got punched in the gut every time his son said something along the lines of ‘I don’t want to meet my real father’. Of course it wasn’t personal nor intentional, but it was still a slap in the face.

‘‘Give him some time, after a while, he will start to adjust to this all. Then you’ll have the bond you have always wanted.’’ Tony hadn’t expected Happy to speak up out of all people, though he was glad that the man did. He hadn’t really dared to bring out any comforting words for the past couple of hours, so it was quite refreshing to hear some sweet words from him. They always sounded more believable.

When his phone started to ring, Tony was certain that his heart was going to give out one of these days. He had blocked out all of the ‘non-personal’ numbers as soon as he had gotten the call from Agent Duponte to make sure that he wouldn’t be distracted by any work-related things. All of the people in his personal list were right there with him in the room. All except…

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone with trembling hands. He couldn’t bear any more surprises or worries, his mind was already too occupied with everything else.

A familiar name popped up on his screen. Natasha Romanoff. Even though the Avengers breakup and her betrayal had been therapy-worthy things to have to go through, Tony had never been too mad to delete her number from his personal files. After all, they had been good friends before. It’s difficult to throw something like that away with a simple snap of his fingers.

‘‘Natasha, this is really not the time.’’

‘‘I understand that you’re very busy with Mateo and everything, that’s why I’m calling.’’

Instantly, Tony’s heart sank to his shoes. Had the news already gotten out to the public? Was Mateo’s life in danger now that possibly the whole world knew? 

Before his mind could spiral even more, Tony stuttered out a line of incomprehensible words. Natasha seemed to pick up on his fear and he could almost see her leaning into a more comfortable position to show that there was nothing serious going on.

‘‘Steve told me about what happened. That’s quite the news.’’ Oh, yes. Steve. Of course it was Steve.

‘‘Yeah, I can hardly believe it myself,’’ he managed to breathe out.

‘‘Have you talked to him yet?’’

‘‘No, these assholes-’’ Tony sent a quick glance to the rest of the room and turned around to talk further in a soft whisper under Pepper’s glare of steel. ‘‘They won’t let me talk to him. And from what I’ve gathered, Mateo doesn’t want me to either.’’

‘‘What do you mean?’’

Only now did the true weight of everything land onto Tony’s shoulders. He dragged a heavy hand down his face. ‘‘I mean that he refuses to accept all of this. He’s already pushing me away before I even get to say hello.’’

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. When Natasha spoke, it was with the same deep business voice that she had always used whenever she wanted to get serious. Man, it was almost uncanny how much nostalgia only a simple tone held. ‘‘Do you think the people who took him have anything to do with that? I could look into it further, see if I can figure anything out.’’

‘‘No, that’s not necessary. The woman who Mateo believed to be his aunt is already in custody. The FBI is interrogating her right now. Though there is something that I would like you to look into.’’

Tony could almost see the sly smirk forming around Natasha’s features. ‘‘Go on.’’

‘‘My son got beat up last night by some people named Inclan and Price. They were both enhanced. Apparently, there’s a whole organization that they’re a part of. Would you be a doll and figure out who they are and what they’re planning? Oh, and take Barton with you. I want him to have something to do when you all-’’

Tony stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing what all of this meant. At first, it seemed like a nightmare to have to live with the people that betrayed him. The people who actively tried to kill him. But now, these people were going to live in the same building as Mateo. As his son.

Natasha no doubt picked up on the sudden change of emotion, but she didn’t dwell on it. ‘‘No problem, I’ll keep you posted. Oh, and Tony?’’

‘‘Yeah?’’

‘‘I am truly happy for you. I really am.’’

Tony couldn’t help the small smile forming on his lips. ‘‘Thanks, Romanoff.’’

Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be all too difficult to reconnect with his teammates. Or at least, not all of them.

~

Everything passed in a blur. Once Peter had been fully filled in with all of the information - which, by the way, is just… wow - they had him sign some documents for which he was too tired to read completely. Then, he was left alone to his thoughts. Right after the documents were signed, Agent Dewitz had come in to give him a new cup of coffee. 

That was forty-eight minutes ago. Peter would know because he just finished singing the entirety of the 1989 album by Taylor Swift to himself. He had managed to stay away from his thoughts and emotions for a while, but now it was officially all starting to dawn down upon him.

No, this wasn’t some practical joke. No, this can’t be a mistake. No, she’s not your real aunt. Yes, your entire life is a lie.

And although every inch of Peter’s body screamed for him to run out of the room and swing his way back to Queens, a little part inside him was somewhat… happy? When Peter was younger, he wished that he could have his parents back. Of course, his aunt and uncle were there, but they weren’t his parents. He wanted to have the true connection of blood and DNA. He wanted the kind of bond that only a mother or father had with their child. He wanted back the two people he loved most in the entire world.

And now, he got a second chance to get one of them back. Six-year-old Peter would have jumped up and down at this opportunity. So why wasn’t he?

In an instant, Peter chugged down the entirety of his coffee just in time before the door opened.

‘‘Oh my God, finally! I thought you guys had forgotten about me-’’ Peter stopped in the middle of his joke when his wide eyes met someone else's. He could feel himself turn as white as a sheet.

‘‘Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?’’ Tony Stark’s cool demeanor had totally been blown away. The man’s hands were placed in his pockets and he both seemed to want to avoid eye contact, yet never look away from Peter ever again.

Peter simply chuckled awkwardly and he rubbed his neck. ‘‘Oh, wow. No warning at all, huh? Just - swarming in, apparently.’’

Mr. Stark reciprocated the exact same smile. ‘‘Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare ya.’’

‘‘You didn’t.’’

‘‘Good.’’

An ear-piercingly loud silence filled the room. Peter wished that he hadn’t finished his cup of coffee, because then he would have something to do instead of suffering through this insanely awkward moment.

‘‘So, I’m your son, huh?’’

‘‘Yeah. Yeah, it seems so.’’

‘‘Alright. Sounds fun.’’

Chapter Text

Peter has had a lot of interesting encounters in his life. Of course, with his double life as a superhero vigilante, it was kind of a given that not a lot of things or people would surprise him anymore. Hell, he had fought a man with wings . 

And yet, nothing compared to the man who was supposedly his father sitting in front of him: the famous Tony Stark, who was twiddling his fingers with nervousness and seemed to both want to avoid eye contact as well as never tear his gaze apart from Peter’s ever again. 

Peter once again felt like he was going to pass out. 

He also felt like shooting himself from the awkwardness of the deafening silence that filled up the room. 

Peter was still seated on the floor in the corner of the room with his legs crossed, though he would rather curl up into a tiny ball. Mr. Stark was not going to follow the kid’s lead, instead leaning on the edge of the metal table. He, too, seemed to want to address the uncomfortable environment in which they had to somehow bond or whatever. 

‘‘Are you sure you’re comfortable down there?’’ He asked, which was the first time in a good ten minutes that someone had spoken. Or maybe it had just felt like ten minutes. Either way, all of this was torture.

‘‘My joints have seen better days. But it’s still preferable to that monstrosity of a chair.’’ Peter nodded his head towards the so-called ‘chair’, which was basically just two pieces of metal fused together to look like a chair. It was made this way to make criminals uncomfortable to get them to admit their crimes, which probably meant that it was not the best place to reunite with one’s long-lost family.

Mr. Stark followed his gaze and frowned; two deep lines forming in the middle of his forehead. His jaw clenched for a moment, and then, he stood up with purpose to reach for the door. Peter stood up in an instant, his arms flailing about as he did so. 

‘‘Wait, where - where are you going? What’re you doing?’’

Somehow, Mr. Stark opened the door (how did he do that? Peter thought it was impossible to open that door from the inside) and looked back one last time. ‘‘Don’t worry, I’m just going to have us placed somewhere more comfortable. After that, I’m all yours.’’

With that, he left Peter alone to his thoughts once again.

~

Peter was just in the middle of playing with a paperclip that he had found in the corner of the room when the door opened, revealing Agent Duponte in all her glory. She was carrying a large stack of papers underneath her left arm. When she saw what Peter was doing, her eyebrows raised in some sort of amusement.

‘‘Trying to make a key to get out of here?’’

‘‘I was going for a swan, actually,’’ Peter joked. 

‘‘And that really… shows.’’ Agent Duponte coughed once to create a bridge to change the subject. ‘‘Pack your things, we’re moving you to our lunch room.’’

Peter didn’t really know what she meant with ‘things’, considering the fact that he didn’t have anything on him other than the twisted paperclip.

Peter knew that he was insanely sleep deprived, he knew that his head was spinning violently and he knew that there was quite a big possibility that he was seeing things. And yet, he knew with absolute certainty that every single pair of eyes in the precinct were focussed on him. People either sneakily snuck a glance or just straight up dropped what they were doing and stared straight through his soul. Slowly, Peter’s hand started to shake.

Agent Duponte didn’t seem to be picking up on the people in the room nor on the discomfort that they provided the boy. She simply opened the door to the lunchroom, closed the blinds and went to lock the door behind her when she left. Great. He was just being placed from one cage to a slightly better cage. 

‘‘Jesus Christ, what was even the point of all this?’’ Peter muttered under his breath, rubbing his hands over his eyelids in exasperation. 

‘‘Well, I figured this would be a little bit more comfortable.’’ Peter nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice, his eyes widening when he turned around to face Mr. Stark, who was practically beaming with delight. 

‘‘Jesus - I mean, shit - no, oh fuck. Sorry!’’ Peter didn’t think his face could grow any more red, so he simply hid it by turning around and burying his head in his hands. Mr. Stark was chuckling from his seat on the couch, a sound so warm that it almost felt unnatural.

‘‘Kid, it’s ok. You’re allowed to swear near me. Hell, I think if Pepper hadn’t stopped me, your first word might actually have been ‘fuck’.’’

Oh, right. Yeah. The whole ‘father-son’ thing. Suddenly, all of the previous calmness left the room, making place for a painful tension.

Peter decided to put an end to that when he put some pieces together. His eyes widened and he turned back around to face the man, no longer caring about his bright red face. ‘‘Wait, when you say ‘Pepper’, do you mean Pepper Potts? CEO of Stark Industries?’’

Mr. Stark’s smile grew impossibly wide. ‘‘The very same.’’

‘‘Holy shit.’’

‘‘A fan, huh?’’

‘‘Holy shit.’’

‘‘I’m kind of offended that I didn’t get the same reaction.’’

‘‘You’re telling me that Pepper Potts knows me personally?’’

‘‘Well, yeah. But so does Iron Ma-’’

‘‘Holy shit!’’

‘‘Alright, now it’s just a punch in the gut.’’

‘‘I’m so sorry.’’ With that, Peter sat down on the insanely soft looking chair that was placed next to the couch, plopping down with a deep sigh. ‘‘Believe me, if all of the overwhelming information around our relationship didn’t exist, you would have had an even bigger reaction.’’

Something in Mr. Stark’s expression softened and he scooted a bit closer to Peter from his spot on the couch. ‘‘I get that it’s… a lot to take in. And I understand that I don’t mean a whole lot more to you right now than I do to everyone else. But I do want you to know that… I’m just, really happy that you’re here.’’

Fuck. This entire time, Peter had only been thinking about himself. About what this would mean for his life and his aunt’s. Never, not once, had he even tried to think of what all of this would mean for Mr. Stark. Though Peter didn’t remember it, the man had loved him and cared for him for the first three years of his life. He had been grieving his missing son for twelve years and had never stopped looking. Obviously, this could not, in any way, be the emotional reunion that the man had been expecting. 

So, for just this moment, Peter put away his pride. He had to at least try . 

‘‘You can hug me, if you want to.’’

There was a beat of silence in which Peter desperately tried to avoid eye contact and Mr. Stark’s shoulders slumped with a sigh that sounded too much like relief. When Peter did dare to look back up, the man’s eyes were soft and nearly filled with tears. 

‘‘I’d like that.’’

They both slowly stood up, neither of them knowing what to do. Eventually, after a few moments of awkwardly maneuvering themselves closer towards one another, Mr. Stark took the lead, wrapping the kid in a soft embrace. 

It was warm and it was loving and it somehow felt familiar and trusted. Mr. Stark’s arms started to tighten, indicating that the man did not want to let go. Peter’s arms were loosely hanging by his side, but after a while, he wrapped them around the man’s back. 

Mr. Stark’s hand traveled to the back of Peter’s head, pushing it almost impossibly close to him. He took a deep, shaky breath, as if he was trying to keep himself from crying. 

Peter didn’t know this man. He had never met him before. And yet, the man was hugging him like there was no tomorrow. 

It didn’t matter that there was some form of ease in the embrace; every inch of Peter still wanted to let go. But then again, his supposed father was crying. He shouldn’t be thinking about his own needs right now.

So, once again, Peter swallowed his pride and hid his face in the crook of Mr. Stark’s neck. The man nearly gasped at this and held his son even closer to him, if that was even possible.

Just a few moments later, the two of them parted again, Mr. Stark’s hands still placed on Peter’s shoulders. He looked the boy up and down a few times, trying to take in the image of him. Peter didn’t miss how his expression changed every time he looked at his bruised face.

‘‘You’re so… big,’’ Mr. Stark smiled. ‘‘The last time I gave you a hug you were about this tall.’’ He waved with his hand in the area around his knee to indicate the height of a small child. Peter simply smiled back, not knowing what else to do.

‘‘Well, yeah. I always ate my vegetables.’’

Mr. Stark spared him one last look before turning to sit back onto the couch. Peter internally thanked him for stopping with the physical intimacy, for the man was still like a stranger to him. Well, a celebrity stranger, but still.

When Peter sat back down in his spot in the chair, he had expected there to be another uncomfortable silence. Tony Stark, however, didn’t allow this to happen a ninth time. ‘‘So, tell me about yourself.’’

Peter placed his left leg under his right and wiggled with his free foot. ‘‘Alright, uhm… I don’t really know where to start.’’

‘‘Any hobbies?’’

Peter immediately sat upright to this, knowing that he would gain the man’s attention with his answer to the question. ‘‘I like science. Mostly chemistry, but also engineering. I build stuff in my free time.’’

Mr. Stark’s eyes - just as Peter had predicted - grew wider, a spark of some sort flashing across his iris. A small smirk started to form itself around the man’s features and he too straightened his back a bit.

‘‘Seriously? Anything that you’re particularly proud of?’’

‘‘Well - alright, it’s not anything big or whatever’’ - Peter decided not to mention the web shooters, although those were most obviously his biggest accomplishment - ‘‘but it turned out quite nice. I wish I had my phone on me, then I could show you a picture.’’

‘‘What is it?’’

‘‘I once tried to build a real-life lightsaber with my friend Ned, but that didn’t really work out all that well. We nearly blew up the fridge. But that’s not the point. Do you know about batteries? What am I even saying - of course you do. Well, I made a small prototype of a battery that could possibly be used for electric cars if it were to be bigger. It’s made of lithium-metal and it’s much more sustainable and long-lasting. It charges up easier as well. I tested it with our microwave and it’s still standing to this day, so I think it was quite a success.’’

Mr. Stark raised an impressed eyebrow, nodding his head in approval. ‘‘Lithium-metal, huh? Where did you manage to get that?’’

‘‘Oh, I don’t even remember, I get my stuff from so many places-’’

‘‘You got it from the trash somewhere, didn’t you?’’

Peter’s head shot up in surprise. Had it been so obvious? Does his appearance say ‘I’m a dumpster diver’?

Apparently, the sheer shock on the kid’s face was enough to make Mr. Stark smile. ‘‘I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. So, what do they call ya? Trash Titan? Raccoon Robby? Lithium Lad?’’ It seemed like the man had a whole list of names in his head, so Peter stopped him before he could talk more, throwing his hands in the air rapidly.

‘‘No, no! They don’t call me anything. I’m just plain old Peter who sometimes cosplays as a dumpster-diver.’’

But was he, though? Peter? That wasn’t his name, was it? He remembered reading all about the case of the missing son of Tony Stark - something that seemed so odd in his head now. He had been reading about himself without even realizing it. 

But that didn’t matter at the moment. He distinctly remembered that the name of the boy that the entire media was obsessed with was not Peter. Something Spanish, he recalled. Starting with an M…

Mateo.

Once again, Peter’s mind started to wander to all of the emotional shit that Mr. Stark had had to go through for the past twelve years. Losing his son, looking for him for twelve years, finally getting him back, the son not recognizing him and then on top of that not even responding to the name he had given him anymore. That must have been another twist of the knife in the man’s heart.

Apparently, Peter had not been paying attention to whatever was being said, because Mr. Stark was looking at him with a great deal of worry evident on his face. 

‘‘Hey, kid. Are you ok? Is your head spinning? Do I need to get someone?’’

The addressing of his injuries somehow made the constant throbbing in his face even worse. Peter also suddenly became aware of the pain in his ribs, of which he had promised himself to check out later. But then again, some… stuff came up.

Despite the immense amount of pain he was in, Peter shook his head. ‘‘No, no, I’m fine. Sorry, I zoned out for a second there. I’m just really tired.’’ And overwhelmed and scared and panicked and terrified and-

‘‘Then how about we just get some forms signed and then I get to bring you home?’’

Home.

Peter already had a home. It was with his aunt, it was in Queens, it was around all of the people he loved. So no matter how loving the look in his father’s eyes was, wherever he was taking him would never - ever - feel like home.

Chapter Text

Everything seemed to pass by in a blur. Peter’s mind was blank constantly; he could barely react to anything that was being said to him, whether it was an FBI agent or his newly found father. His movements were robotic while he moved on auto-pilot. And when he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a window, he could only see an empty vessel.

The bags under his eyes were deeper than they had ever been and any kind of color had been drained from his face, aside from the mix of blue and purple that covered his left eye. He was tired almost to the point of physical pain - on top of the pain that kept thudding in his head and underneath his ribcage. It was a frustrating invisible wall between fatigue and relief, one he hadn’t yet figured out how to breach.

It was no wonder that his body slumped as soon as he hit the backseat of the expensive car with tinted windows.

As the car pulled into the upcoming traffic, Peter glanced over his shoulder at the police station one last time. His aunt was in there somewhere, no doubt being suspected of kidnapping, child abuse, murder or hell, maybe even of kicking a puppy - because apparently, these people all thought of her as some monster, even though she had done nothing but care for Peter for his entire life.

When Ben had died, it was just the two of them. Peter had only recently gotten his powers and was blaming himself for his uncle’s death. For months, he either hid in his room or was pretending to hide in his room while he was actually out looking for the man who had murdered Ben. 

And though she would never admit it, May was an even bigger mess. At night, Peter could hear her muffled sobs through the wall. She even tried to hide it with a pillow, just so Peter wouldn’t have to hear her break down. But he did. Every single night. 

During the day, she would constantly smile and try to make Peter feel better by pretending that nothing had happened. She worked twice as much as she did before, suddenly having to pay for two people all by herself, and never once came home from a late night shift complaining. 

May was the kindest, gentlest, and strongest person that Peter had ever met. And now, these people that he barely even knew, tried to take her away from him like she was nothing. As if she had been wrong to him for his entire life.

Well, fuck that. Fuck. That.

Apparently, Peter’s face was looking quite rageful, for Mr. Stark was waving his hand in front of his face from his spot next to him. ‘‘Are you trying to murder the window, kid? Relax those muscles a bit.’’

Peter blinked aggressively, trying to get his mind to clear again. He instantly felt his brows relax and jaw unclench when he took a deep breath. Looking back out of the window, the police station was far out of sight. How long had they been driving?

‘‘You doing alright there?’’ Something in Mr. Stark’s expression made Peter feel even worse. The amount of sadness and love was so overbearing that he could do nothing but look away.

‘‘Yeah, I’m fine. Tired.’’

‘‘When we get back to the Tower I’ll show you your room. You can go to sleep even before meeting the others.’’

Peter’s brow furrowed once again. ‘‘The others?’’

‘‘Nothing major, just a couple of faces that I think you would recognise. I figured you were too tired to meet with the one and only Pepper Potts?’’

Peter forcefully smiled and made a weird hand gesture. ‘‘In this state, she wouldn’t get all of the excitement she deserves.’’ And aside from that, Peter wanted so desperately to just go to sleep and pretend that everything was different.

‘‘Then there’s also Colonel Rhodes. Just call him Rhodey, everyone does. Or platypus, he loves that.’’

‘‘Colonel Rhodes lives with you?’’

‘‘Well, no. Not technically, though he will be squatting there for a while. I don’t think he wants to leave you out of his sight for at least two months.’’ Peter tried to hide the constant building pressure in his chest by forcing a smile onto his face. 

‘‘And then last, there is Happy. He’s right there in the front.’’ Mr. Stark nodded his head towards where the driver’s seat would be, though it was divided from them by a black tinted window. ‘‘You will barely ever see him, though. He’s not really a fan of social contact.’’

Lucky for him, Peter thought. ‘Cause neither am I.

When they finally pulled up to the Tower, it was larger and more impressive than Peter could have ever imagined. He swung by it from time to time - not a lot, though, because it was quite far away from Queens - but he had never directly stood under it.

The car drove around to the back, running through some insane safety protocols before arriving inside the garage.

‘‘Well then,’’ Mr. Stark clapped his hands once they got out of the car, ‘‘let’s show you to your room.’’

~

Peter tossed and turned in the almost king sized bed, thrashing underneath the sheets. His mind wouldn’t stop spinning, even though every part of his body told him that he was just so insanely tired. He groaned once; a deep, almost animalistic growl that was muffled by the pillow he had thrown onto his face in anger. Right now, smothering himself seemed like the only way to stop his thoughts from going crazy.

He sighed deeply and removed the pillow from his face. Perhaps accidentally killing himself wouldn’t be the best idea. 

His eye caught the bottle of pills on the nightstand to his right. Painkillers for his injuries. Mr. Stark had first wanted to get him checked out in the med bay, but Peter had brushed him off by saying he had already been treated inside an ambulance. 

Oh, fuck. Everyone in this ‘household’ would most definitely notice when his bruises disappeared much faster than they would on a normal human. Should he start to conceal them to hide when they go away? Or maybe make them look worse than they actually are?

God, no. This was not the time. He just had to go to sleep . 

The constant thudding in his head did not make it easier for the melatonin to kick in. It was as if a thousand protesters were jumping up and down inside his brain while smacking their drums and yelling ‘hey do you remember when you found out your whole life was a lie? Wasn’t that funny?’

It was also about noon, which was still quite a shitty time to go to sleep, even when he had been awake for a good 34 hours that had been filled with patrolling and receiving devastating information. If he’d had his phone on him, he could have called Ned to calm his nerves. 

After another forty minutes of tossing and turning, Peter gave up. Wanting to illuminate his surroundings, he searched for the switch and was very unpleasantly surprised when the room practically turned into a beacon of light.

Shielding his eyes from possible blindness, he stepped out of bed and tried to take in the room as much as he could. His sight couldn’t really reach a whole lot further than about three feet in front of him, but the floor was still looking quite nice. Could a floor look rich?

After a few minutes, his eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the light. ‘‘Oh, god fucking damnit,’’ Peter sighed, exasperated. ‘‘Is there no possible way for the lights to be, like, seventy percent less bright?’’

‘‘Lights reduced to thirty percent,’’ an Irish-sounding voice called out from somewhere in the ceiling. In an instant, the lights dimmed down to a perfectly comfortable level. Peter didn’t know whether he wanted to sigh in relief or shriek at the sound.

‘‘God?’’ He whispered underneath his breath, his hand already reaching for his chest where his heart had recently done three backflips in a row.

‘‘My name is Friday, though you are allowed to call me God, if you’d like. I am Boss’ Artificial Intelligence. Hello, Peter.’’  

‘‘I see you have met my darling Friday already?’’ A familiar voice called out from behind him. Peter turned around to see Mr. Stark leaning against the open door frame. Peter jumped, not having realized that there was someone there in the first place. Mental note: the spidey sense doesn’t work with intense sleep deprivation.

He tried to remain casual, but ended up not knowing what to do with his hands, so he simply tucked them under his armpits. He felt naked, even though he was dressed in a shirt with long pajama pants. Still, besides aunt May, no one had seen him like this before.

‘‘Did you really create an artificial intelligence that controls the building?’’ He asked, both amazed as well as freaked out. Ned’s mind was going to explode if he heard this.

‘‘I sure did.’’ Mr. Stark was practically beaming with delight. ‘‘She told me that you were awake. Can’t sleep?’’

‘‘If I could, I wouldn’t be awake.’’ Was that a mean thing to say?

Fortunately, Mr. Stark seemed slightly amused by his answer. ‘‘No, I guess you wouldn’t. Well then, how about we go have lunch then, hm? It’s a little bit past noon.’’

Peter’s stomach was already rumbling with the mere idea of food. ‘‘Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.’’

The elevator alone was so overwhelmingly impressive that Peter felt like he was unable to breathe. No buttons, just the nice lady voice that came from the ceiling that took them where they needed to be. In his apartment building, he had to climb four flights of stairs every single time he wanted to go anywhere. He even had to jump over a couple of them to avoid weird-looking stains.

The elevator came to a stop with a soft ding , though Peter was too occupied with his mind to notice the tiny crowd that was standing right in front of him.

‘‘Oh my God, Mateo,’’ someone breathed out. Peter locked eyes with the one and only Pepper Potts. Then, with almost the entire Avengers team.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed how Mr. Stark’s fists clenched and jaw twitched with a spark of anger.

~

One job. They all had one job. And that was to stay the fuck away from Tony’s son.

Of course Ross couldn’t help but have the entire team move into the tower only a day after the decision had been made. No preparation, no compromises, nothing. As if taking in a couple of vigilante superheroes was an everyday occurrence.

‘‘You have the money for it,’’ Thaddeus Ross had said, ‘‘I’m sure you’ll figure something out.’’

Tony had been ready to throw the return of his missing son in the man’s face, just to hear him stutter out the next sentence. But the well-being of his boy was more important, and he couldn’t have any paparazzi on his front doorstep within the mere seconds that it would take for Ross to bring it all out to the public.

So, he surrendered. Not voluntarily, of course, but with as much pushback as he could possibly hand out. After the whole reuniting with his long-lost son thing, he hadn’t really paid much attention to the return of his former friends. To be perfectly honest, he had kind of fully forgotten about it until they called to say that they would be arriving in twenty minutes.

Peter, who he had thought to be fast asleep in his bedroom, was not supposed to come out for another seven hours, according to his calculations. That would have been plenty of time to explain the rules to the rogues and to have them hide on different floors, making sure that they would never cross his son in the hallways. Or at least, not until the boy had been fully settled in.

But then, Friday announced that Peter was wide awake and walking around in his room. It would only be a matter of time until he would explore the building on his own and possibly get into contact with some dangerous things - that, now that Tony was thinking of it, he really needed to store in some safer areas.

So he simply told his ex-colleagues to stay away from the kitchen area, since his son was going to be there, and then made his way over to Peter’s room. They already knew about his return, so he didn’t see a reason to hide it from them anymore. However, he did still want to hide his son from them.

And of fucking course they were all gathered right in front of the elevator doors, along with Pepper and Rhodey, who hadn’t even been with them in the first place.

Tony should have known better.

Anger had started to arise from within him and after taking one look at Peter, who looked as white as a sheet, he took the boy by the wrist and guided him through the tiny crowd, pushing some people away with more force than necessary.

‘‘This is so unbelievable,’’ Clint called out, not really taking any of the hints that Tony was sending them. ‘‘That’s your son? The kid that has been missing for, like, twelve years?’’

‘‘Yes, it is. Now, if you all don’t mind-’’

‘‘Mateo, baby!’’ There was nothing that Tony could do to stop Pepper from engulfing Peter in a hug so intense that the boy stumbled back a little bit in shock. Pepper was sniffing into his neck, her whole body shaking, while Peter just stood there with wide eyes. Eventually, he raised one hand to softly pat her on the back in a ‘comforting’ gesture. Everything about him screamed that he wanted to break loose as soon as possible.

Was that how he had felt when the two of them had hugged back at the police station? Had he been this uncomfortable as well? To Tony, that moment was everything that he had ever wanted for almost twelve whole years. But to Peter, it must have been nothing more than a way too intense encounter with someone who, to him, at least, was a stranger.

Fortunately for Peter, Pepper let go and cupped his face in his hands, her expression becoming a mix of all the emotions that existed in the world. ‘‘Oh, honey, I am so glad you’re home,’’ she said, deciding to ignore the kid’s bruised face. There was no doubt that there were going to be some conversations about this later.

Something in Peter’s expression changed, his brows deepening in confusion as his bottom lip started trembling. The tears in his eyes were barely noticeable, but they were there.

‘‘Are - are you - ?’’

‘‘No, kid. She’s not.’’ Tony’s heart ripped open from having to say this. It was bad enough that Mateo had to grow up without a mother, but now Peter had to find out again.

Although Tony had expected Peter to start crying, the kid seemed nothing more than just slightly disappointed. ‘‘Oh,’’ he simply said. An uncomfortable silence followed.

‘‘Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m absolutely starving ,’’ Sam smiled, and Tony had only now noticed that the man was there, too.

‘‘So, what do we say? Family dinner?’’

The whole group seemed to agree on that, but Peter simply turned to Tony, scrunching his face in confusion as if to say: ‘family’?

Well, shit. It couldn’t not have happened that some secret information got out in the open within the first two minutes, could it?

Chapter Text

Peter’s heart was racing at an impossible speed. Not one, not two, but seven Avengers were sitting at the same table as him. Not to mention the infamous Pepper Potts, who refused to take her eyes off him for more than four seconds. Although the hint of tears in her eyes told him that she meant well, it still made the boy’s leg bounce even faster.

Peter glanced to his right, where he noticed Mr. Stark’s jaw being clenched almost concerningly tightly. If he used only a little bit more strength, his teeth would surely crack and get grinded to dust. Why on earth was he so damned angry? Had Peter done something wrong?

It was impossibly difficult for Peter to perform even the simplest of tasks or keep his focus on what’s in front of him for longer than two seconds, especially with the many eyes that he felt drilling into his skull. The anxiety that the sudden change in Mr. Stark’s demeanor had caused certainly didn’t help with that.

Seriously, had Peter done or said something wrong? Would someone please answer all of the questions that he was too afraid to ask out loud?

‘‘So, Mateo-’’ Sam began, before he was interrupted by Mr. Stark.

‘‘It’s Peter,’’ he grumbled, taking another bite of the pizza. Huh. For some reason, Peter had thought that the man would have more trouble accepting his name.

‘‘What?’’

‘‘His name. It’s Peter.’’

‘‘But I thought-’’

‘‘He was raised with the name Peter, so that’s what we’ll call him,’’ said no one other than Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow was defending his honor. Honestly, this day couldn’t get any weirder.

‘‘Oh, damnit!’’ Colonel Rhodes called out, flinging his hands through the air. ‘‘I fought so hard when the kid was born. I fought so damn hard for his well-being.’’

Miss Potts seemed utterly confused from her spot at the table - furrowing her brows so deep that her eyes were barely noticeable. ‘‘And what exactly did you fight for?’’

‘‘A name that didn’t sound so white,’’ Colonel Rhodes proclaimed, resulting in the entire table to burst out in a fit of ‘whoa’s and ‘what the fuck’s. Peter felt his ears turn red, so he decided to just focus on his pizza.

‘‘Oh, please, Tony! You were there! You said it yourself: your kid would get a Spanish name, like his mother.’’

Instantly, the room fell silent again. Although no one dared to, Peter knew that they all wanted to look at him for his reaction. Peter tried his best to ignore it all and took another bite.

‘‘I think Peter is a beautiful name,’’ someone with a bit of an accent called out. Peter looked towards the far other end of the table, where a young-looking woman with reddish hair smiled at him. ‘‘It reminds me of my brother.’’

Peter’s lips formed a thin line that was supposed to resemble a smile, but looked more like a grimace. ‘‘Thank you.’’

So, his mother had Spanish roots. From what he had read in magazines, Tony Stark’s mother was Italian. Or rather, Peter’s grandmother was Italian. Jesus, that was still so difficult to come to terms with.

For some ridiculous reason, Peter felt halfway bad that he didn’t speak Italian. At least his Spanish was adequate enough for him to hold a proper conversation.

Peter’s appetite was long gone, along with any power that was left in his social battery. It was almost a strange blessing that, from that point on, no one put any effort in making any conversation whatsoever. The room was eerily silent, aside from the occasional screech of cutlery on stone plates or the awkwardly loud slurping when someone drained the last gulp from their glass.

Somehow, all of this still felt better than forced chatter about the weather - because Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that that was the only topic of conversation that the Avengers could discuss without breaking out into a fight.

But, of course, as it always does, Parker luck decided to strike again.

Wait, was that Stark luck now? With his father being a billionaire, that would probably sound very douchebaggery. The luck of the Starks couldn’t possibly be any sort of bad luck.

Whatever the luck was called from now on, it was still rather shitty.

‘‘So, Peter, ’’ Steve Rogers made quite a show out of using the correct name, like it was something difficult to do, ‘‘care to tell us about what happened last night? I don’t suppose that you get beat up by mutants on the regular.’’

From the corner of his eye, Peter could see Mr. Stark’s jaw clench even more. Multiple death glares were sent around the table and everyone clutched their knives just a little bit tighter, though they probably didn’t think that Peter would notice.

‘‘C’mon Rogers, this isn’t an interrogation. Just let the kid eat something,’’ Sam Wilson cut in, his face wearing an expression that was supposed to resemble a calm smile. Everyone present knew better.

Mr. Rogers raised his hands in the air as if he surrendered himself. ‘‘You’re right, you’re right. This isn’t a police station, I get it. I was just curious.’’

‘‘Well then, you can be curious another time and not at the dinner table,’’ Miss Potts proclaimed as she poured herself another (much-needed) glass of wine.

Considering the fact that the only times someone had tried to initiate a conversation ended up with miserable awkward silence, Peter decided to take the matters into his own hands. At least then he was sure it wouldn’t end up in him having to talk about his childhood or other insanely depressing topics. 

‘‘I didn’t know that you guys like to have lunch together,’’ - of course, ‘liking’ it didn’t seem to be the case here, but those are semantics - ‘‘I always figured that you would lead your own lives outside of the occasional world saving.’’

Peter didn’t understand why Mr. Stark’s jaw seemed to be unable to relax.

‘‘Well, we do live our own lives, actually,’’ the redheaded lady at the other end of the table called out. ‘‘And this is not a usual thing to do for us, but we just figured - why the hell not?’’ Her tone was awfully cheery and Peter wasn’t sure whether that was actually the way she felt or if it was some kind of act she was putting on: pretending to be fine.

‘‘Though we didn’t know that you would be here as well,’’ Mr. Barton chimed in. 

‘‘Bullshit,’’ Mr. Stark grumbled from his spot next to Peter. All heads immediately turned to him, some confused, but some also halfway threatening, as if to stop the man from speaking.

Peter just wanted to know what the hell was going on around here.

‘‘What was that?’’

‘‘I said: bull. Shit.’’ As though moving like an oiled machine, every single Avenger straightened their backs and let their expressions go blank. The food in front of them was long-forgotten.

‘‘Tony, please. Can we not-’’

‘‘I believe I gave you all one simple job when you arrived here. One very simple thing to do. And somehow, you managed to ignore it completely.’’

‘‘Well, we just figured-’’

‘‘You figured wrong. Pepper, will you please take Peter up to the penthouse? And Rhodey, be a dear and come along with them. I want to have a little word with the kids.’’

And just like that, lunch was over. Even after an insane amount of passive aggressive fighting at the table, Peter was thoroughly confused as to what exactly was going on. There were only a couple of dots that he could connect.

Number one: the Avengers did not like each other. At all. There were perhaps a couple of halfway decent relationships detected here and there, but when it came to Mr. Stark, no one seemed to be in the safe zone of animosity. But if that were the truth, then why were they even there in the first place?

That brought Peter to the second dot: no matter how badly they hated each other, they all wanted to pretend as if everything was fine. They obviously weren’t, so perhaps they were being forced to do that. At first, Peter figured it was for his sake, but then again, Mr. Stark had made it clear that he had not wanted Peter to come in contact with any of them at all.

Number three: the Falcon had called them a ‘family’. It was a really weird thing to say considering the circumstances, so there was something more going on.

This was the first time in a long time - if he could believe the word of the redhead, whose name Peter really had to learn - that the team had come together to eat. 

Hate, not in touch, first meal, ‘family’.

And then it clicked.

The Avengers were being forced to live in the Tower, alongside Peter and his newfound and still very confusing parental people.

Oh lord, how he missed May.

Peter was not even paying a little bit of attention when Pepper showed him around the penthouse. The new living arrangements were quite literally the least of his problems right now.

Because his enhanced metabolism would cause his bruises to heal in an insanely short amount of time. Peter had caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the windows and noticed that it was already starting to turn a slight shade of yellow or green instead of blue and purple.

Should he use make-up to make it look worse? Or perhaps leave the tower and let himself get beat up again to keep the mark fresh? Lie and say that he just ‘heals really quickly’? 

All of those options were shit. But not as shit as the final decision that Peter made.

‘‘Hey, uhm, Miss Potts?’’

There were those eyes again. The eyes that looked him up and down as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Eyes filled with love. Eyes that belonged to a person that Peter did not know.

‘‘Just call me Pepper, honey,’’ she smiled, everything about her screaming that she wanted the kid to.

‘‘Oh, yeah. Right. Of course. Could you show me the bathroom, please?’’

‘‘You have one connected to your room, remember?’’ Those eyes again. Worry, this time.

‘‘Oh, yeah. Right. I do have that one. Thanks!’’

‘‘If you need some medication for a headache or something, you can stop by the medbay. They’ve got everything you could possibly think of.’’

‘‘No, no. That’s alright. Thanks anyway.’’ Peter put on the best smile he could force onto his face and turned on his heel towards his room.

~

‘‘One job. I gave you one fucking job.’’

‘‘We’re sorry, Tony. We really are. We just-’’

‘‘Broke my trust? Decided to ruin my first day reunited with my son? Overwhelmed him with your presence, even though his life had changed within a couple of hours more than it possibly could?’’

A silence followed. Tony stopped pacing.

‘‘Since it was too difficult for you to follow basic instructions, I am going to make this very clear.’’ Tony took a deep breath and growled from between his teeth.

‘‘Stay. The fuck. Away. From my son. I don’t care where you go. The whole Tower is yours, have fun with it. The gym, the common rooms, whatever. The penthouse is off-limits. I’ll make sure that Friday won’t let you through under any circumstances.’’

There were a couple of nods, none of them daring to say anything. 

‘‘And I want you all to remember that we are not friends. We are not a team, we are not a family. I could not give two shits about any of you. Stop trying to force that onto us.’’

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a small look Natasha gave him. You don’t mean that. Stop pretending that you do.

Tony looked away from her.

‘‘We are forced into this shitty situation. I’ll report to Ross every now and then to tell him how swimmingly things are going at the moment. I don’t care if it’s not true. We’ll see each other at training and during possible missions and aside from that, we are nothing but distant colleagues.’’

Not leaving any room for discussion, Tony turned around and walked towards the elevator to go up to the penthouse.

Though there was a small voice inside his head that said: Natasha is right about you.

~

‘‘Peter, would you like me to alert Boss of your state? He wanted to be aware of your health at all times.’’ 

Of course he fucking would. Peter groaned deeply and flushed the vomit down the toilet.

‘‘No, thanks, Friday. I am totally fine. I’m not sick at all.’’

‘‘I believe pushing fingers down your throat is far from being ‘fine’, Peter. Boss needs to be alerted.’’

‘‘I can give you orders too, right?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘Alright then. From now on, I want you to never tell Mr. Stark anything that goes on in my room or the bathroom. Even if I’m bleeding out from a stab wound; if I don’t tell you to alert him, you don’t.’’

‘‘Peter, I highly advise against this action-’’

‘‘I want you to promise me.’’

There was a beat of silence, as though the Artificial Intelligence was considering the options.

‘‘Alright. I promise.’’

Peter smiled, despite the situation. 

Alright, first off: he knew that it was a terrible idea to make himself throw up the food he just ate. Even worse to refrain from eating for a while to have the bruises last longer than they usually do. But he had no other option.

Or, well, he did , but all of those options somehow sounded worse than this one.

Peter would rather die than to admit that he was enhanced. 

Secondly: he really needed to sleep now. He didn’t care that it was only two in the afternoon. 

Peter stumbled to his bed, struggling to keep himself upright, and climbed under the covers. He spent the first ten minutes waiting for Mr. Stark to barge in, expecting Friday to not have kept the promise. When the man didn’t, he let himself drift off to sleep. The fatigue was too heavy for his thoughts and worries to interrupt this time.

He dreamt of May. Of his friends. Of his previous, simple life.

He dreamt of getting his old life back.

Chapter Text

‘‘I want to see May.’’

It was the first time Peter had spoken since he sat down at the breakfast table, and all three adults who had joined him looked up at him in surprise. It was only Rhodey who looked slightly confused.

‘‘Who?’’

‘‘My aunt May. I want to see her.’’

Pepper’s gaze softened and she reached out to place a hand on Peter’s forearm, but retreated at the last second, as if she were afraid of burning him. ‘‘Honey, I’m sorry, but that’s not possible right now. She’s currently in custody and-’’

‘‘The last time I saw her, she was shaking on her legs about my beat-up face. The next moment, we were both escorted to the police station without any further explanation and I haven’t had the chance to talk to her since then. They are treating her like a criminal, even though she has no idea what is going on and is probably scared out of her mind. I want to see her and tell her everything’s alright.’’

There was a beat of silence. Not only was this the most that any of them had ever heard Peter talk, it was also in a tone of voice that they did not recognize. A tone that even Peter did not recognize. He sounded somewhat angry and determined, yet his voice shook like he was afraid. Before anyone could say anything, he continued.

‘‘I understand that there’s an investigation going on and everything, but she deserves an explanation at least. She should at least get to see if I’m alright.’’

The words ‘she didn’t do this, you’re out of your damn minds!’ were echoing inside Peter’s brain, but they didn’t leave his mouth. He knew better than that. And yet, the anger about the issue was boiling up inside him.

Luckily, that was all released when Mr. Stark spoke up without looking anyone in the eye. ‘‘Yeah, that can be arranged. I’ll call Agent Duponte and we’ll sort something out.’’

‘‘Th-thank you,’’ Peter spluttered out, at an absolute loss for words. Time and time again, Mr. Stark surprised him with his open-mindedness and empathy. Though the fact that the man was unable to maintain eye contact whenever he said those kinds of things slightly unnerved the boy.

It was probably nothing.

‘‘So, Peter. I know all of this is kind of awkward and everything, but we really want to get to know you better,’’ Rhodey smiled as he bit into a piece of toast. ‘‘So how about we play 20 questions? Just the basic ones, like favorite color and all that crap.’’ Pepper shot the man a sharp look at the use of language. 

‘‘Yeah, alright.’’ 

Peter saw this as an opportunity. If he had to answer all of these questions, he wouldn’t get any weird looks when he didn’t eat any food. Not eating sounded infinitely better than having to throw it back up, so it was a nice convenience. 

His stomach growled almost painfully, though. He couldn’t wait until he got to eat normally again.

The three adults asked him heaps of questions, all around the lines of the ones you’d find on a questionnaire in kindergarten. Favorite color, food, animal, movie, etcetera etcetera. It was kind of weird at first, but when Peter noticed the happy looks on the adult’s faces, a warm feeling filled his chest.

Yes, this did all suck royal balls. Yes, Peter would do anything to get his old life back. Yes, it was constantly insanely awkward around anyone in this building. But then again, if Peter allowed it, he had also gained new family members who loved and adored him. He may not know them, but if he gave it a try, it could truly turn out to be something great. He just had to open up and stop worrying about every single little thing.

That sounded easier than it actually was.

‘‘Alright, Duponte and I just had a little chat. You can come visit May around four this afternoon.’’ It sounded as if Mr. Stark was smiling, but Peter wouldn’t know. Because once again, the man’s eyes were focused on anything but him.

‘‘That’s- That’s great, thank you!’’

‘‘In the meantime, I figured we could drive past your old apartment to pick up some stuff. Your phone, perhaps. I know you kids can’t last longer than five minutes without those little boxes.’’

That caught Peter’s attention. Not the phone thing, but picking up some stuff. His suit, for example. If the police were to investigate May’s apartment, there was a slight chance they would come across it. And Peter did not starve his body just for Mr. Stark to find out about his secret identity anyway.

The phone thing actually did catch his attention, too. If there was anyone who would listen and fully understand what was going on in Peter’s life, it was Ned. Of course, the boy would pass out a couple of times first, but those were unimportant details.

‘‘I’d love that! Maybe I can also grab some clothes. These ones are starting to smell.’’ ‘ They remind me of the police station where all this shit started in the first place’ went unsaid.

‘‘Alright then, grab your shoes and let’s go.’’ Mr. Stark had stood up from the table before Peter had the chance to tell him that he was already wearing his shoes. With a shy smile, he waved Pepper and Rhodey goodbye. He didn’t miss the glance that Pepper sent to his untouched plate of food, her brows furrowed in thought.

~

The car ride was a little bit uncomfortable. Peter fiddled with his fingers as the buildings flew past, not really knowing what to say to the man he was supposed to call ‘dad’. Mr. Stark seemed to be struggling with the same exact thing; he constantly glanced over at Peter, wanting to say something, but no words forming in his mouth.

Obviously, Happy was not a lot of help, either.

When Peter noticed that they had arrived in Queens and his apartment was not all that far away anymore, he was desperate for a little bit of conversation. The idea of walking into his home to pick up things to bring to his new ‘home’ filled with strangers was suffocating Peter.

He had been happily living here with his aunt less than two days ago. Now, May was no longer his aunt, the apartment was no longer his home, and all of his memories had turned into psychological torture.

So, in a last, desperate attempt, he did this:

‘‘Knock knock.’’

Mr. Stark looked over, his expression a mix of interest, confusion, and amusement.

‘‘Who’s there?’’

‘‘Yoda lady.’’

‘‘Yoda lady who?’’

Peter put on a theatrical face of surprise. ‘‘Why are you yodeling?’’

Within the span of less than a second, all the emotions that have ever existed flashed across Mr. Stark’s face, until he finally sighed deeply, rubbed his hand over his face and grinned.

‘‘You did not just do that.’’

Peter grinned back. ‘‘Oh yes, I just did.’’

When the two erupted into a fit of giggles, the car ride didn’t seem so scary anymore.

~

‘‘Have you got everything?’’

‘‘Almost!’’ Peter yelled back from his bedroom, where he was busy stuffing his Spider-Man suit into his backpack. He put a couple of shirts, sweaters, and pants on top of that and then grabbed his phone and charger. When he returned, he noticed Mr. Stark looking around the small apartment with crossed arms.

‘‘I’m ready.’’

‘‘How long have you lived here?’’

Peter swallowed, his mind and body not ready to have this kind of conversation. Once again, no eye contact.

‘‘Ages six and up. I moved in with May and Ben after my-- after Richard and Mary died.’’

Mr. Stark nodded with his lips pressed into a tight line. ‘‘So, this is kind of like your childhood home?’’

‘‘I- I mean, sort of?’’ Peter’s fingers pressed tightly into the straps of his backpack. ‘‘Not really, though. ‘Cause I haven’t lived here all my life. But the most part, yes.’’ It was only when he had stopped talking that Peter realized the man had not intended that question to be answered, but rather be spoken out loud to let it process.

After another moment of painful silence, Mr. Stark cleared his throat and turned to look at the boy. ‘‘Is that all you got? You don’t want to bring anything else with you?’’ He motioned towards the small backpack that was stuffed to the rim.

Peter pulled the bag closer to him like he was afraid it would be taken away. ‘‘No, no. That’s alright. The rest can just… stay here. For now.’’

Although it looked like he wanted to argue, Mr. Stark decided not to dwell on the matter. When they left the apartment, the both of them took one last look behind them, though both for different reasons. 

The car ride back was even more painful than the first.

~

No feeling would ever be greater than being welcomed back into the arms of his aunt. May squeezed him tightly, pressed kisses to the side of his head and rocked him back and forth like she always did when he was younger. Peter felt safe again. Everything felt right.

‘‘Hey honey, I am so happy to see you. Are you alright? Where have you been? Did you spend the night in the police station as well?’’

Peter pressed his nose further into his aunt’s neck, taking in her scent. ‘‘I’m alright, May. Really, I am.’’

Aunt May pulled back from the hug and took Peter’s face in both hands, examining it left and right. The wrinkles between her eyebrows became ever so present when she expressed her worry. It was only during moments like these when Peter was really aware of his bruised face. The constant pain in his ribs was always present, though. ‘‘They told me what happened last night. Are you really ok? Why didn’t you tell me?’’

Peter shrugged. ‘‘I didn’t want you to worry. You’re always going on about New York being dangerous and everything. I didn’t want you to fear things like these even more.’’

May wore an expression on her face that scolded her nephew for being so impossibly kind to her, but she didn’t mention it. ‘‘Why were you even outside? It was the middle of the night. You didn’t tell me you were leaving and I can’t think of any possible reason why you would roam the streets at 3 AM.’’ It wasn’t obvious whether May was extremely pissed or on the verge of tears, but either way, Peter knew he screwed up.

‘‘I- I was at Ned’s,’’ he said, deciding to stick with the excuse he had given the police two nights ago. ‘‘To finish up a project we forgot about.’’

‘‘At Ned’s?! Peter, you damned moron! You risked your life for a project ? I did not raise you like this. If you’re going to keep on being this stupid, we’ll have to move out of New York.’’

Realization seemed to hit May as she leaned away from Peter slightly, new tears forming in her eyes. Peter did the exact same thing, but he reached out for her elbow.

‘‘I mean, well…’’

‘‘I know. And I don’t know how… or what everything is going to be like, but I do know that wherever I end up, you’ll still ground me for this.’’

May laughed at this and pointed a finger in Peter’s face. ‘‘You’re damned right I will.’’

‘‘I’ll still be able to see you, right? After I have to move in with them?’’

‘‘Not at first, I believe. I am still a suspect in all of this. And even though they have nothing on me, Tony Stark will make sure that you and I break contact for a while. And before you get mad at him, because I can see it in your eyes, you have to try to see it from his perspective. He’s scared of losing you again. In whatever way possible. You choosing me is one of those ways. So be kind to him, alright? What have I taught you?’’

‘‘Always try to see the good in people, even if it’s difficult.’’

The two of them embraced once again, this time holding on for dear life. They lingered there for a little while until it was time for Peter to go. Right before Peter walked out of the small interrogation room, May leaned over and pressed a kiss on top of his head.

When he walked out of the building, he overheard Mr. Stark whispering something to an FBI agent. ‘‘Unless you find hard proof against her, she’s innocent. You can let her go home.’’

And then, like he hadn’t done anything at all, Mr. Stark found his place again at Peter’s side as they walked out of the building.

Peter knew kindness existed because his aunt was kind. He could do it, too.

Chapter Text

Peter awoke the next morning with a painful ache in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten for a good two days and the reaction his body gave to that was about seven times as bad as it would to a normal person. He was constantly dizzy, had a headache and a stomachache, and he had lost quite a lot of weight already. Every time he looked in the mirror, he felt like he was seeing himself wearing the skin of a dying person. Though he was dying. Technically. Just like everyone else.

The only positive thing to come out of all of this was the fact that the bruises on his face were disappearing at a believable pace. Just one more day to go and then it would be safe enough again to eat.

Peter was fully aware of the fact that this was insanely stupid. Probably the most idiotic thing he had ever done. But then again, what other choice did he have? Besides, this was giving him something else to focus on instead of all of the insane things that had happened the past few days. He had even missed school on monday because of all of this. Ned was not going to like the fact that Peter had left him to live through P.E. by himself.

Oh, shit. Ned.

Peter scrambled for his phone at the bottom of his backpack and was hit with about twenty missed texts and four missed calls from Ned. There was even a text from MJ, who told Peter to pick up his damned phone because Ned was driving her crazy.

Peter looked to the clock on his nightstand, which read 7:12 . That was enough time for a quick phone call.

Ned picked up after the very first ring. ‘‘Dude, where have you been? You weren’t at school today and you didn’t reply to my texts all weekend. I thought we were going to get back at Flash? You said you had a whole plan and everything.’’

Peter dragged a heavy hand down his face and groaned loudly. ‘‘Oh, damnit. I’m so sorry, I forgot about that. Did Flash and the others give you a hard time today?’’

‘‘Just the usual name-calling. Nothing major. But that doesn’t matter, anyway. I just want to know what has kept you so busy the last few days. Is it related to… well… you know?’’

‘‘No? Yes? Well, sort of. The first part of it is, yeah. But that’s not the main thing. The rest of the story is just mind-blowing.’’

‘‘Peter, could you please turn off your ADHD way of talking and not leave me hanging here? What is the story? What happened?’’

At that moment, the true weight of everything that had been going on fell down on Peter’s shoulders. He let out a short laugh of disbelief and rested his hand on his chin, smiling about the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

‘‘Ned, I - I don’t think you will ever believe me. It’s just… wow. I hardly believe it myself.’’

There was no reply on the other end of the line. Peter could almost envision Ned sitting on the edge of his seat, clawing at his fingernails and cursing Peter for taking so long to tell him the story.

‘‘Ok, so. You know Tony Stark, right?’’

‘‘As in, personally, or…? I’ve heard of him, yes.’’

‘‘Have you ever heard of the case about his missing son?’’

‘‘Yeah. Everyone has. I am pretty sure we discussed it in class once. Dude, what does this have to do with anything?’’

Peter took one deep breath, knocked his head against the wall three times, and then closed his eyes.

‘‘Well, that kid. His son. That’s, sorta… me.’’

The four seconds of silence that followed were deafening and seemed to last an eternity. Peter’s mind started racing and all of his fears and worries were threatening to take over his mind, but they were stopped just in time by the loudest, most high-pitched shriek that Peter had ever heard coming out of Ned’s throat.

‘‘What?! What?! No way, you’re fucking with me. This has to be a joke. It’s not funny, Peter!’’

‘‘It’s not a joke! I swear on the life of our LEGO Death Star.’’

‘‘Do not mess with the life of our Death Star like that, Peter. You know how much he means to me.’’

‘‘Then you’ll know I’m not lying.’’

Peter could practically hear the gears in Ned’s mind grinding together as he was processing the information. For the few moments that neither one of them spoke, Peter felt more alone in the big bedroom than ever. ‘‘Ned, please say something.’’

‘‘You swear you’re not lying to me?’’

‘‘I swear on everything I hold dear. I swear on the actual laws of the universe.’’

‘‘I… I don’t really know how to process all of this, dude. So, it’s true?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘You’re Tony Stark’s son?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘You’re Mateo Stark?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘Does that mean I’ll have to start calling you Mateo?’’

‘‘Please don’t. I’m still just plain ol’ Peter Parker.’’

‘‘Peter Stark, you’ll mean. Plain ol’ Peter Stark whose father is Tony Stark who is the actual Iron Man who is friends with Captain America who is-’’

‘‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don’t mess up your facts there, buddy,’’ Peter said, waving his hand around in a motion that Ned wouldn’t be able to see, but which he still felt was necessary to make the other boy shut up. ‘‘Tony Stark and Steve Rogers are not friends. At all.’’

There was another squeal on the other end of the line. ‘‘Oh, my God, I knew it! I knew it! You met the actual Captain America? And Iron man? You saw them together?’’

‘‘Well, of course I met Iron man, dude. He’s my father.’’

At that moment, Peter truly realized it. Tony Stark was his father . 

Peter looked around his new bedroom while Ned was freaking out and rambling so much that Peter could barely keep up with him. So, this was his life now. A bedroom that was almost as big as the entire apartment where he used to live with the woman he thought was his aunt. The woman he wasn’t allowed to see for God knows how long.

Shivers were sent down his spine when the realization came that he was currently living with a bunch of complete strangers. Yes, he had seen these people on the news almost daily and almost the entire world adored them, but they were still strangers.

‘‘How did you find out, anyway?’’ Was the only part of Ned’s rambling that Peter was able to pick up on. 

‘‘Are you ready for a long story?’’

‘‘Always, dude.’’

~

‘‘It was very sweet of you to take care of May Parker like that, Tony. I am very proud of you. It must’ve been a difficult thing to do.’’ Pepper had slid her arms around Tony’s shoulders as she sat down on the armrest of the couch. Tony smiled shortly, though it was clear he didn’t mean it.

‘‘Yeah, well, I figured it would be quite difficult for me to create any sort of bond with my son if he can only see me as the villain who dragged him away from his aunt and then proceeded to get her locked up.’’

‘‘I don’t think he sees you like that at all. Stop beating yourself up over things that aren’t true.’’

‘‘What, like he doesn’t hate me? He hasn’t come out of his room since we got back from the station.’’

‘‘That’s just him being a teenager. He doesn’t want to hang out with boring adults like us.’’

Tony wanted to argue by saying that he might be the least boring adult on this planet, but he decided not to dwell on it. There was some truth in what Pepper was saying, though he couldn’t get that weird feeling that was gnawing at his gut to go away.

Pepper cleared her throat and went to sit down next to Tony on the couch with a serious expression on her face. ‘‘There was actually something that I wanted to discuss with you. I am worried about Peter.’’

Tony frowned and he felt the weird thing in his gut twist even further. ‘‘What is it?’’

Pepper clicked her tongue, fiddled with her fingers, looked away, and sighed deeply — four things that managed to get Tony’s heart pounding in his chest. 

‘‘He’s not eating. I know we’ve only spent two days with him, but still. He didn’t have breakfast at the station, he only had one slice of pizza during lunch and then spent the rest of the day asleep in bed. He missed dinner yesterday. This morning, when you guys left, Peter’s breakfast was almost entirely untouched. He skipped dinner tonight as well. We don’t really have to know him longer than this to know that he is not eating sufficiently.’’

Tony let his chin rest on a balled fist and thought back to the last two days. What Pepper said was one hundred percent true and very, very concerning. A selfish part of him was angry that he hadn’t picked up on this himself.

‘‘So, what’s your speculation? Eating disorder?’’

Pepper shrugged. ‘‘I have no idea. Possibly. I am currently hoping that it’s just the stress. I don’t think I would have much of an appetite either if I were to be in his position.’’

Tony nodded. ‘‘That’s probably it. And if not, I hate to say this, but we truly don’t know him long enough to be able to figure out what it is. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Hopefully it gets better over time.’’

~

An hour or two had passed when Peter came walking into the living room of the penthouse. He stood still in front of the two adults and rubbed his hands together. 

‘‘I, uhm… I was wondering if I could go to school tomorrow.’’

‘‘Are you sure?’’ Tony asked with a surprised look on his face, ‘‘Most teens would kill for an excuse to skip class for a day. Or even a week, if you want.’’

‘‘No, no. It’s fine, thanks.’’ Peter started picking at his fingernails. ‘‘I kind of want to go, actually. I’ve already missed way too much.’’

‘‘Nerd,’’ Tony teased with a snort. He was glad to see Peter grinning back at him.

‘‘Pretty much.’’

‘‘I am not very sure about this,’’ Pepper cut in. ‘‘I am so sorry, Peter, but your face…’’ She made a couple of gestures with her hands as she tried to come up with the proper wording. ‘‘You’ll probably get a lot of questions. People might get suspicious.’’

Peter rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. ‘‘I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t think that people’s first thought when they see my bruised face will be: ‘Oh, that must be Tony Stark’s son’.’’

Tony let out a short laugh at that. ‘‘You’re right, you’re right. Though I’m sorry, kid. I think I’m going to have to agree with Pepper on this. It might be better if you stay at home for just one more day.’’

Peter’s face dropped and he looked quite disappointed, but he didn’t argue. ‘‘Alright,’’ he mumbled with a very brief smile. ‘‘It was worth a try.’’

‘‘Sorry, Pete.’’

Just when Peter was about to walk out of the room, his head shot up. ‘‘Could my friend Ned come over after school then? He’ll drop off my homework.’’

Tony’s heart sank for a second. ‘‘Does that imply that you already told him everything?’’

Peter blinked at him for a second as his face flushed. ‘‘Yeah?’’ the kid replied with an expression on his face that almost resembled terror. Tony rubbed his temples with closed eyes.

‘‘As in, all of it?’’

‘‘Hm-hm.’’

Tony sighed deeply and sank further into the couch. He could feel a migraine coming up already. ‘‘Well, now he has to. He has to sign some papers.’’

~

‘‘Are you going to finish that?’’

Peter’s head shot up to lock eyes with Pepper, who looked at him with a mix of concern and suspicion in her eyes. He shot a short glance towards his breakfast and then looked back up. ‘‘I am not a very big eater in the morning. It makes me nauseous.’’

Rhodey flung his hands in the air in irritation. ‘‘And you tell us that after I have lovingly made waffles for you? I poured my heart and soul into that plate that you’re staring at!’’

‘‘I’ll save them for later! Then I’ll have a nice lunch,’’ Peter replied, his voice just a little bit higher than normal in order to defend himself.

‘‘You shouldn’t eat it then, they’ll be all soggy.’’

‘‘In that case… I don’t know. I’ll just give them to Mr. Rogers or something. With his metabolism he’ll probably appreciate some extra waffles.’’

‘‘No you won’t,’’ Tony replied angrily. When everyone gave him either an accusing look or a confused one, he cleared his throat and sat up more straight. ‘‘I mean, he won’t want them. He’s already been up for about three hours.’’

Peter scrunched his nose and looked at the time on his phone. 8:09. ‘‘He woke up at five AM?’’

‘‘I know,’’ Rhodey scoffed, ‘‘he’s a lunatic.’’

‘‘Why would he ever want to do that?’’

‘‘To work out. Go for a run. Doing God knows what else.’’

Peter looked back at his plate. ‘‘Then still, if he just went for a run, he could use the protein of your delicious waffles.’’

‘‘You can’t say that they’re delicious when you haven’t tried them yet,’’ Rhodey cut in.

Just as Peter felt himself get into a conundrum and wasn’t sure about what to say or do next, a message came from the ceiling. He still had to get used to the voice of Friday interrupting his everyday life about every twenty minutes, which caused him to make an embarrassing squealing noise in the back of his throat. Tony very poorly hid his laugh with a cough.

‘‘Boss, a message from Nick Fury.’’

Peter’s spidey sense went off from the tension that this caused in the room. 

‘‘James Barnes is on his way to the building.’’