Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lord what will become of me,

once I’ve lost my novelty?

– Nothing New

In his lifetime, Tony Stark has created many demons.

First it was simply the many interns and assistants he turned away for petty reasons. Arrogant, self-absorbed actions, sure, but it was nothing that put the entire world in danger.

But then there was Aldrich Killian, a man with a cane and a bad sense of style who could only be described as, in Tony’s books, unattractive. He had made the mistake of promising Killian to meet him on the roof, with the intention of standing him up, which is just what he ended up doing. For years it was simply a night that fell far behind Tony, never to be thought of again. A night that seemed insignificant and forgettable, only to come and bite him from behind when he least expected it. Because suddenly, Killian was back in his life with a better look and a more charming personality – oh, and he created a drug that made him like a human form of lava and had the goal of killing the president of the United States. So, yes, Tony had accidentally caused the near death of the president, he may have created a monster without even realizing it, but he could do better.

So that’s exactly what he did. Until Ultron.

Once again, Tony had created a demon; only this time it was possibly even worse. Nope, scratch that – it was most definitely worse. Because this time Tony created a demon robot with the desire to give Earth peace by killing its entire population. Tony created an uncontrollable AI who managed to lift a piece of earth into the air, before dropping it. Not only that, but the billionaire created chaos and destruction, and it was all his fault.

Tony once again fell into the endless cycle of panic and anxiety. He locked himself up in his lab, diving back into his work, never to come back up for air. Pepper pulled him out though, because that’s just what she does. Tony can look up at that woman and see hope, he can see someone who looks at him with not shame, but pride. Pepper is always there, to hold his hand through his panic attacks, to help him through the steps of becoming the man he wants to be. She kisses his lips and tangles her fingers in Tony’s hair with nothing but love and ease.

Now Tony is out of that funk, once again ready to hang on tightly to his promise to stop danger, not create it. He was able to fall into a good work schedule and spend a healthy amount of time in his lab. Tony also took on the project of creating living quarters in the Avengers Tower for all of his teammates to live or simply stay in when necessary. With confidence, Tony can now say he’s got it all back together. He is the man that he wants to be. 

So it’s only natural that the universe decides to test that statement - and that it won’t relent.

–

Tony sips mindlessly on his mug of coffee, staring at the computer screen that displays the documents he’d promised Pepper he'd go over. Now that he’s sat down and got started, Tony realizes it was a promise he really should not have made because now he was bored out of his mind. He groans, burying his face in his hands.

“Tony? Tony!” a voice says urgently. The man in question looks up to see his head of security, Happy Hogan rushing into his office (Pepper’s office really, but that’s beside the point). Tony raises a questioning brow at Happy, silently urging him to elaborate on what it was that was making him freak out. “I tried to get her to stop, I tried to make her leave. She doesn’t even have an appointment!”

“Woah, woah, woah, Happy. Slow down.” Tony stands up, flattening out his suit, “Who doesn’t have an appointment? I mean perfect timing for you to barge in like this, I do need a distraction. But I’m also going to need you to slow down, pal.”

“She briefly said her name… April – May, I think? Some sort of month,” Happy shakes his head, still breathing frantically. “She said she needed your help, something about how you were her last chance. Though I’m not sure for what. Some of the security is holding her off right now, but, god, she really is a woman on a mission. I don’t think she’ll be held off for long. Oh, and there she is.”

Tony looks through the glass wall and sees a woman he doesn’t recognize. She has long, brown hair, and a frenzied look in her eyes. She seems to have tried to dress nicely, but her clothes were wrinkled and all over the place. But that’s what Tony supposes one would look like after fighting off a bunch of guards, and he speaks from experience. “Seems like a total nutcase to me, Happy. I’ll humor her,” Tony says offhandedly.

“Are you sure, Boss?” Happy frowns unsurely. “What if she’s the next Killian? You know how he kind of just barged in here without letting me do a security check and showed Pepper his–his brains. And, God, even he at least made an appointment first.”

Tony can’t help but snort. “I’ll be fine, don’t be so paranoid. Now go live up to your name out there and be happy?”

“That joke is getting old, you know,” Happy scrunches his nose, making his way to the door.

“And yet, you still love me!”

Tony chuckles as Happy gives him the dirtiest look possible, while still trying to be somewhat respectful to his boss. 

For a moment, Tony is alone in a blissful silence. Then he notices the document he was looking at staring right at him and he curses at it with annoyance. And then there’s a voice.

“Mr. Stark!” the voice says with relief. Tony jumps slightly, putting a hand on his chest. For a moment, he almost forgot what he was waiting for. Tony turns around to see the May woman no longer outside his office, but now inside of it, only a few feet away. “I-I’m May Parker. And I know that it’s a lot for me to ask, but I really, really need your help.”

Tony holds out his hand with confidence. May shakes it hesitantly and he gives her a flashy grin. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I’m, well, you know who I am. I’ve got to say I’m impressed, though; Happy always makes sure to hire the highest of guards and you, you got past them in what, ten minutes? You seem very determined.”

“Oh, I am. Determined, I mean,” May says wryly. She then clears her throat, looking back up at Tony with a look he can only describe as embarrassed. “I’ll be honest, I’m not usually like this. I like to stay reserved, professional if you will. I don’t tend to break into people’s offices asking them favors, let alone Ironman’s office. I promise, Mr. Stark, I’m only doing this because it is really important.”

“Don’t worry, I’m glad to help,” Tony shook his head. “Besides, you did shed a light. Now we know that we need to hire better guards. Though, like I said, Happy already hired the best. Too bad we can’t get the Black Widow as one, that’d be convenient – don’t tell her I said that… Why don’t you just take a seat and explain to me why you're here?”

May seems to hesitate for a moment before sitting. Suddenly, she digs inside her purse, pulls out a tiny photo, and slides it to Tony. “Me and my husband took in our nephew, Peter, when he was three, after his parents died. But five, nearly six, years ago… Peter disappeared. Mister Stark, there’s not a single day that goes by that I don’t miss him; he’s the only family I have left. I’d do anything to get him back, including barging into a billionaire’s office with no warning. The point is, even the police couldn’t find him, no private investigators would take his case… but maybe you can.”

Tony is at a loss for words. He looks down at the photo of a smiling boy, who looks maybe ten or eleven years old. Tony never liked kids, but this one made his heart clench. He wonders how the woman in front of him has so much confidence in him, confidence he doesn’t feel he deserves. Tony has no experience in solving a missing persons case, but something inside him screamed, saying there was no way he could let her down. This was a test from the universe after all, after all, right? 

“Why me?” is all he can come up with to say.

May smiles like it’s obvious, but it isn’t. “You’re a hero, Mr. Stark. And yes, maybe I could have asked any other Avenger, but you seemed like the perfect choice. You’re a driven man with a good heart, and people don’t give you a lot of credit for that. Besides, Peter adored you. Not only was – is – Ironman his favorite, but you as a person, Tony Stark.”

Tony is shocked, still uncertain. Yet, his next words come out before he can even attempt to stop them. “Alright… I will look into it,” Tony finally agrees. “But I make no promises. You did say he’s been missing for, what was it, six years? If people trained to solve these kinds of cases couldn’t, I’m not sure what luck I would have. But I promise I will try.”

May smiles widely at this, her eyes tearing up with joy. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, thank you! I’ll write you a check right–”

“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Parker,” Tony waves his hand dismissively. When she looks like she wants to protest, he quickly continues, “I already have enough money. I can get by with doing something for you and getting nothing in return. But I will need a bit more to go off, maybe some evidence. Don’t get me wrong, this photo is adorable, but It won’t get me very far.” He says this to help lighten the mood, and it seems to work.

“Oh, yes, of course,” May pulls out a file, a very thin one, and gives it to him. Tony has to stop himself from gagging, he hates being handed stuff, “I added a few things in there, myself. There’s some photos, other sorts of memories, and my phone number. There are also a few other numbers in there that you might find useful, like Peter’s friend, Ned. He’ll be more than willing to help in any way.”

Tony smiles his signature smile, “Alright then. I will call you if I find anything.”

May stands, and just when Tony least expects it, pulls him into a quick hug. “Again, thank you. Thank you for being willing to try.”

Tony isn’t able to respond because May is already rushing out, leaving him to his own devices. Tony stares down at the file, his hand rubbing at his chin. It’s then that he starts to question his decision. First he promised to help Pepper with some documents, now he promised a distressed aunt that he would try to find her nephew, who seemed to have disappeared without a trace. The document promise, that was something he could easily keep, no matter how painful or boring it truly was. But this, this may be a lost cause.

More than that, it is yet another promise he is bound to break.

–

“Something is on your mind, Tony, I can tell.”

It is now nighttime, and after a long afternoon of going over every tiny detail of tomorrow's mission, everyone in the Avenger tower headed to their respective rooms. On nights like these, the ones before waking up right as the sun does, even the few people who don’t live full-time at the compound spend the night there. It’s just easier that way. Pepper and Tony are in their own room, tucking themselves into their shared bed. Tony looks up at his girlfriend to find the exact look he expects: unrelenting curiosity. And now that Tony is thinking about it, the mission is the perfect thing to deflect with–

Suddenly, Pepper’s finger is pressed against the billionaire’s lips. She narrows her eyes at him, unamused. Once again, she’d read his mind without fail. “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t start with the whole ‘I’ve got a big mission tomorrow’ charade. Talk to me. You know you can.”

Tony gently pulls Pepper’s hand from his face, holding it with his own. He opens his mouth a few times, trying to come up with a way to properly explain it. All the while, his eyes are not focused on his girlfriend’s face, but the case file that is now sitting on the nightstand. How did you explain that you promised to try and solve a missing kids case, only to realize that it probably wasn’t going to work and you’d have to later explain to the boy’s aunt that once again, it was a failure? Tony is almost certain that there isn’t, but he’ll find a way.

“This woman came to my office – well our office,” Tony starts, playing with Pepper’s hand. “Her name was May Parker, and she wanted me to–”

“Wait,” Pepper interrupts. Tony gives her an annoyed look but knows it’s not worth it to try and stop her. “May Parker as in the woman whose nephew disappeared without a trace?”

Tony frowns in surprise, nodding slowly. “Yes, exactly. How on earth did you know that?”

“You don’t remember? Tony, it was all over the news in what year was it? 2011.” Pepper looks at him, waiting for him to show any kind of recognition. But Tony does not remember, it was a busy year, after all – you know, with all of the fighting with that man with electric whiplashes and what not. Pepper sighs, noting his inability to remember such important events. “Come on, Tony. Everyone was talking about it. The boy disappeared without a trace. It was eerie, too. There was surveillance footage where he was seen riding his bike and it glitched for a split second and he was just gone. Not even the best detective out there could piece it all together.”

If possible, Tony can feel his throat dry up even more than before.

“Tony… What is this about?” Pepper shifts so that she is facing Tony directly. “Why is May Parker coming to our office? My office really, but that’s beside the point.”

“Ours. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have it.”

“Tony.”

He sighs. “Alright, Pepper, alright,” he says quickly. But instead of using his words, Tony simply hands Pepper the file, hoping she will understand through the small gesture. He watches as she reads the sticker on the front before opening it to briefly skim through the information inside – something that Tony himself hasn't even managed to do yet.

What if she’s the next Killian? Those were Happy’s exact words, and they continue to ring in Tony’s mind with more urgency than Tony could admit.

“Tony, don't tell me that…” Pepper trails off with a sigh. “You said you would solve the case, didn’t you?”

Tony nods slowly and shrugs. “I said I would try.”

“This… It all has to do with the new Tony.” It’s not a question, but a statement. Tony knows there’s no use denying it, even if he wants to.

“I promised Killian that I would meet him on the roof, and when I didn’t, it led to horrible things,” Tony runs his hands through his hair frantically. “I promised May Parker I would try and find her nephew, this time with the intent to do so. And maybe that’s better; I do have good intentions this time. But that doesn’t change the possibility that when I have to break the news to her that I failed, she’ll seek some sort of revenge on me. Or worse…”

“The world,” she finishes for him with a faint whisper. Tony nods.

Pepper is silent for a moment before she cups Tony’s cheek, lifting his head so that he’s looking at her. “You are a good man, Tony Stark. No one, not even you, can single-handedly create demons. Yes, maybe you were a little mean to Killian, and maybe creating Ultron was your idea initially. But, sweetheart, there are other factors that go into those equations. You’ve got to remember that you are helping this woman and that while there is a chance you may not be able to solve this case, there’s also a chance you will.”

“Pepper, what happens if I do fail?” Tony whispers. Oh, he sounds so weak. Yet she doesn’t seem to mind, and instead offers him a small smile.

“May Parker is obviously a strong woman, Tony,” Pepper reassures him. Her thumb is now brushing against his temple, and the man finds himself melting into her touch. “If anything, she’ll thank you. Not a lot of people are willing to look into cases that are deemed unsolvable.”

“You’re right,” Tony breathes. She’s always right. Pepper giggles airily as he pulls her into a chaste kiss. “What on earth would I do without you, Miss Potts?” he murmurs against her lips.

Pepper pulls away and smirks, “I don’t know, Mister Stark, you would probably go insane. You’d also be very sleep-deprived. Speaking of which, it’s late and you need your rest for tomorrow. You can look at this once you’ve slept on it and have cleared your mind.”

Tony doesn’t argue and takes the case file back. With one last kiss, Tony pulls Pepper close to him and closes his eyes.

–

The next morning is a crazy one. The kitchen is filled with the Avengers, each chattering, eating, and preparing themselves with urgency. Tony has to push past Steve and Bucky, who are huddled closely together as they share a plate of scrambled eggs, and Natasha who is securing her gun all while chewing a big bite of food. Once he successfully makes it to the coffee maker, the man desperately pours himself a cup and chugs it. 

When it's diminished, Tony sets it down and wipes his mouth, only to find that Rhodey is staring at him with a raised eyebrow. The colonel snorts dismissively and hands his best friend a plate of waffles. “Eat. You clearly need the energy.”

Tony flashes him a smile, “I can already feel myself waking up. And it’s only five-thirty in the morning!”

“Very impressive, Tones,” Natasha says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, knowing damn well Tony gets the least amount of sleep out of any of them.

“Why, thank you!” Tony raises his fork in salute. He then stabs a piece of waffle with it, and narrows his eyes at the red-headed woman, “And before you brag about how you pulled two all-nighters in a row for a mission once. Don’t.”

“Wait, did you actually do that? Also, why have I never heard about this?” Clint asks suddenly in awe, pushing his plate of food away. Natasha smirks at him, telling him how she stayed up for not two, but three nights straight. Tony can’t help but roll his eyes(and also find it kind of impressive… kind of).

“Living room, people!” Steve calls suddenly, waving his hand to signal that they all need to follow him. Those who are still eating gather their plates and scurry in. Once the team is settled around the couch, Steve moves so that he is in everyone’s line of sight. “Alright! The goal of this mission is simple: take down HYDRA’s base in Germany and get as much information as we can find on the others. But the steps we have to take in order to do so have to be well thought out and calculated. One wrong move and HYDRA is onto us, or worse, they kill us. I know we’ve gone over our individual roles many times, but I think it is best if we do that one more time just in case.”

Everyone nods in agreement, including Tony. If there is one thing the Avengers learned after properly bonding in the aftermath of Ultron, it would be that they all need to be on the same page. If they’re not, it leads to chaos and destruction – and that is something Tony especially doesn’t want.

“I’ll start,” Sam raises his hand briefly. “I’ll fly over the base so we have a good idea of how things are laid out and who and what we are dealing with.”

“Me, Black Widow, and Hawkeye will be taking down as many of their guards and agents as we can in,” Steve says. Natasha and Clint nod in agreement.

“Once you guys clear a path for me, I will get into their tech room,” Tony adds. “There I will try and find any information in their system that gives their other locations, any dangerous projects they may be working on, and ways I can hack into their database in the future.”

Then it’s Rhodey’s turn to speak, “Once Falcon’s done, we will both hold off anyone who tries to stop Tony.”

“I’ll be waiting in the Quinjet,” Bruce adds, “If necessary I’ll be ready for medical emergencies, or if things get out of hand, code green.”

“I’ll be here,” Bucky raises his mug, “thankful that I never have to step foot inside a HYDRA base again.” Everyone is quiet for a moment. Though they are used to Bucky’s dark humor by now, the quips about his time at HYDRA still seemed to take all the words out of them. Steve is the one to break the tension by snorting gently and ruffling his best friend’s hair. Bucky nudges him with a laugh.

Tony finds himself leaning closer to Sam, pointing at him. “There is no way they are just friends. If anyone knows the truth about the nature of Steve and Barne’s relationship, it’s you. Come on, tell me, I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Tony then smiles a not so innocent innocent smile, because there is no way there isn’t something going on there. The two soldiers act like an old married couple half the time, and then the other half they act like lovestruck teenagers. 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Tones, I don’t even think they realize the true nature of their relationship. Give them time.”

Tony scoffs but doesn’t push any further.

“Everyone finish their last bites, we need to get on the Quinjet,” Steve announces. Everyone sets their plates in the sink and says their goodbyes to Bucky.

It doesn’t escape Tony’s notice that Captain America is the last on board.

–

The mission is going great – really great.

The Avengers are able to get into the base with a decent amount of ease, each of them doing their part. It must be a new record, and Tony can’t help but think about how they even got there in the first place. At first, they were this dysfunctional team of heroes, all recklessly saving the world individually instead of together. Now, though, they were somewhat like a family. Hell, they were able to get through multiple team dinners without conflict coming into play, and right now they were working together to take down yet another HYDRA base. Tony is not a stop and smell the roses type of man, but it’s the truth, and one he is gladly able to accept.

“I’m in the tech room,” Tony says into his comms just as he scans a keycard he stole and enters the room. “Rhodey? Wilson? Are you guys in position?”

A moment passes before one of them answers, and Tony warily glances at the door as he begins messing with one of the many computers. As he looks around the room, he doesn’t fail to notice how HYDRA has stepped up their game when it comes to technology. Of course, nothing is anywhere near as advanced as his creations, but they were up there.

“We’ve got your back covered now, man,” Rhodey’s voice says into Tony’s ear.

These words somehow loosen the joints in Tony’s fingers. He types more efficiently and his breath steadies. Still, there is that urgency coursing through him that makes him aware of everything around him in an uncomfortable way, making him subconsciously take his helmet off. Tony gets in under three minutes(not exactly his best, but better than most people). Files pop up, each with vague, simple titles. He looks for anything that may give him information on the other bases. Tony clicks on one, and then a few more, and finds some somewhat shady stuff – but nothing useful or highly concerning. That’s when one of the files catches his attention.

Visitors.

Really, it seemed unimportant – like it would give him a little extra knowledge, but not anything particularly groundbreaking. Yet, Tony can’t help but click on it with genuine curiosity, and a feeling in his gut.

Only one visitor pops up. A photo of a man stares right back at Tony, his expression stone-cold. He has dark hair and equally dark eyes to match, and a very smooth shave, making his beard appear non-existent. Tony can’t help but notice his defined cheekbones and pointy features. As he scrolls to the second photo, everything is just the same as the last, only now, the man’s lips were curved into a menacing smirk. Tony shudders.

Carter Ivanov is his name. Tony reads through the given information which turned out to be vague, but useful. Ivanov is a high ranking agent, who seems to be only second to the man at the very top. The lack of information only showcased how low this base was when it came to importance. But at least it’s something, because now Tony knows the name of a very important man, and that he knows where HYDRA’s main headquarters were, even if it isn’t displayed on the screen.

“I’ve got you, Ivanov,” Ironman whispers to himself, letting himself relax for just a moment.

This proves to be a bad idea when a noise sounds, just behind Tony. The man can feel himself tense up and freeze. Tony Stark doesn’t freeze. He shakes his head, deciding to be reasonable. Tony clears his throat, “Rhodey? Sam? Did you guys get them all already? I’m impressed.”

But instead of being met with one of Rhodey’s jokes or Sam’s quips, Tony is met with an arm around his neck, strangling him. Tony takes a moment to evaluate the situation, before promptly calling his helmet back onto his head.

“Not so fast, Stark,” a voice of a man hissed venomously.

Tony ignores him, fighting him off with ease. He turns around, staggering slightly. Metal sounding against the wall, the billionaire gasps at who it is that attacked him: Carter Ivanov. In the flesh. The HYDRA agent narrows his eyes, a smirk similar to the photo curling at his lips. Tony finds himself frozen, but when Ivanov pulls out a gun, Tony quickly blasts the man with the hand of his suit. 

Ivanov must be enhanced or wearing some sort of protective gear because it only knocks him off his feet before he quickly recovers. “Looks like your suit will fail you this time, Stark,” he jeers, shooting at Tony, who promptly dodges, “Looks like you’re in dire need of an upgrade.”

A bullet grazes Ironman’s suit, creating a series of sparks.

Tony shoots at Ivanov some more until the gun is on the floor and in multiple pieces. This does not stop the HYDRA agent however, because moments later, he jumps on top of Tony, bringing him to the floor.

“You’re almost as good at fighting as Romanoff,” Tony grunts, struggling out of the man’s grasp. They both throw punches, and despite Tony’s armor, he can feel the metal denting and pressing into his skin. Man, this guy is strong. Just as Tony can pin Ivanov on the ground, he lets out a stubborn laugh, “Key word: almost.”

Ivanov attempts to get away, but Tony promptly keeps him in place. “You will never find it, Stark. No matter how hard you and your team try. You won’t find the base, and you most certainly won’t find him.”

“Him?” Tony breathes, almost letting his guard down. But Ivanov doesn’t answer and is suddenly popping out one of his teeth. “Oh, no you don’t,” the billionaire hisses, shoving his hand in the other man’s mouth. He fights relentlessly until the tooth is somewhere a few feet away. Before the agent can try anything else, Tony punches him as hard as he can, until he’s unconscious.

Tony takes off his helmet and  presses the button on his comms, making it so that each Avenger can hear him, “Guys, I’ve got my hands on something much more important than any information these computers can give me.”

Chapter Text

Romanticize a quiet life;

there’s no place like my room

– I Know The End

The ride back to the Tower is something else entirely. What was once chatter and anticipation was now each Avenger in their own personal bubble, all wondering what exactly the deal with the HYDRA agent chained up in the corner was. Steve even goes as far as questioning Tony on what exactly happened in that tech room, to which the billionaire briefly replies with a ‘wait until we’re at the tower.’ They’ve contacted Nick Fury already – Tony doesn’t want to go through the events more than he has to.

The truth is, he doesn’t even know where to start. It’s all a blur, like smudged paint strokes going through his aching body and his hazy mind. Tony doesn’t fully understand why that is; he’s gone through many dire situations, similar to this one. Maybe he’s just being irrational, maybe it’s the idea of being so close yet so far away from the goal of the whole mission. Or maybe it’s the vague statement Ivanov had made. You will never find him. Who exactly was him? The leader of HYDRA? Sure they’ve been looking for him, that’s a given, but why did he say it the way he so vaguely did? Tony doesn’t know – and that bothers him. 

So he distracts himself. His Stark Pad seems to be the best option; Tony can just mind his own business, waving off anyone who tries to check up on him. Like Rhodey, whose worried eyes he can feel burning into him – or Bruce, who has been pestering him about checking his injuries since he sat down. 

There’s a period of time when Tony mindlessly clicks on buttons, such as looking at the latest news articles or playing a game he once spontaneously downloaded onto the device. But it isn’t long before the man finds himself falling down a rabbit hole of something that can be viewed as productive. A rabbit hole that Tony can practically hear Pepper scolding him for, saying to wait to jump down it when he wasn’t stressed. Tony promptly tunes out those words, clicks the search button, and types out the following words:

‘Peter Parker missing case.’

What pops up is dates as far back as August of 2011, the articles becoming scarce as the next year rolled around. Tony bites down on the inside of his cheek and clicks on the most popular article. At the very top is a video of the news footage covering the story, J. Jonah Jameson himself being shown in the freeze frame. Tony saves the video for later, scrolling down to the text. ‘Ten-year-old boy disappears without a trace,’ the headline reads. Tony scoffs, earning a questioning glance from Natasha; because that gives him a lot of hope. 

Tony shakes his head and continues, ‘Peter Parker had just turned ten when the unfortunate events of his disappearance took place.’ He pauses for a moment, doing the quick math in his head. The kid would be nearly sixteen now – a teenager who should be going into his Junior year of high school. If he still is alive, a lot could have happened in the six years he’s been missing. 

The billionaire breaks down each word in his mind as if he can find something hidden between the lines that not even the author could have noticed. He doesn’t. Every other sentence is on how hopeless the case is or how sorry the world is for the kid’s family, and the rest is about how kind of a boy Peter had been. When he gets to the part that mentions that a man named Ben Parker – who Tony can only assume to be May’s husband – told a reporter how much his nephew admired the inventor Tony Stark, he has to stop. 

“Tony, man, we’ve landed,” Rhodey’s voice breaks him out of his trance. The man in question looks up at his best friend with a simple oh. Tony Stark doesn’t do simple ohs; so that only adds more to the worry in Rhodey’s eyes.

Tony clears his throat, standing up. “Right behind you, Platypus,” he says easily, once he’s gathered himself both mentally and physically. To this, the colonel sends back a look that has ‘you’re playing it off like everything is alright, but don’t think that I don’t see past it’ written all over it. Tony simply rolls his eyes. 

“Fury is waiting in the conference room,” a SHIELD agent greets them. She and two others begin to wheel Ivanov off, and Tony finds himself staring at the man’s unmoving face. “We’ll deal with him,” she clarifies.

“Thank you, Susan,” Clint says kindly. Tony concludes that he must know her by the way her eyes light up with familiarity when she sees him. It’s not too far of a reach – Hawkeye was once in her job position, after all. 

The Avengers walk together, to the elevator, down the hallway, and into the conference room. Nick Fury waits at the head of the table, thoughtfully looking at the white wall in front of him. Noticing the presence of the heroes, he glances up with recognition and greets them in a rushed manner.

“I guess I can start by saying this mission went in a much different direction than we’d planned. But for good reasons,” he began. Everyone agreed instantly, including Tony. There is no doubt about it. “Some trusted SHIELD agents are transferring the HYDRA man to our headquarters, where there is a secure place to keep him. Those agents and I will question him and get everything we can get out of him and update you tomorrow. For now, I want to debrief and know what exactly went down on the field. You said his name is Ivanov, is that so, Stark?”

Tony looks up from his hands, making eye contact with the one-eyed man. “Yep. Carter Ivanov. I think it matches him – you know, scary HYDRA man and all,” he jokes. Sam has told him that it’s his most used defense mechanism during one of his “not at all therapy” therapy sessions he always attempts to have.

Steve gives Tony a look, and Fury routinely ignores the comment, urging him to go farther into what happened in the tech room. Tony is quiet for a moment, knowing that in the end, he does have to talk about it. He tells them how Ivanov must’ve been watching him the whole time before making his attack. How he must be enhanced in some sort of way that has to do with his strength. How Ivanov knows exactly where the HYDRA headquarters are. And for a reason Tony isn’t exactly sure of, he leaves out the part where he mentioned a him, never specifying who him is.

Fury seems satisfied with the information Tony gave him, however, moving on to ask how it went for everyone else. All else went exactly as planned, and the fact that code green wasn’t needed was a bonus for everyone, especially Bruce. 

“That’s all for now,” Fury nods, “Good work everyone. I’ll keep you updated.”

With that dismissal, everyone is quick to get up and go to their respective rooms. Tony does the same.

–

Tony’s first move when he makes it to his room is to shower. A long one, where he lets the hot water stream down his back and the mirrors fog up. It’s a moment for him to forget; to forget Ivanov’s cold stare and Peter Parker’s disappearance. Sure, the thoughts creep up on him every so often, but he’s able to wash them away by standing directly beneath the shower head and closing his eyes.

When he gets out of the shower and wraps a towel around himself, he doesn’t let himself look in the mirror too long. For the bruises were beginning to show, and he could already feel their aches. He grabs a shirt with the Stark Industries logo and a pair of black sweatpants and throws them on. 

“Sir, Miss Potts is calling you,” FRIDAY says, her voice even as always, “Would you like me to patch her through your phone?”

“Just patch it through your system, Fri,” Tony waves his hand, his eyes roaming the room, in search of something specific. He needs to find Peter’s case file.

“Tony,” Pepper’s voice comes through the speakers. Her tone is worried, and a bit too knowing. Tony sighs as he searches through the nightstand drawer. “Rhodey is worried about you, and has the rest of the team backing him up on that feeling. He said something went in a different direction during the mission and you’ve been acting weird ever since. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

Something in Tony relaxes when he realizes Pepper is not at all mad or annoyed, but simply worried. He also internally curses at Rhodey, because of course he went to Pepper – she is really the only one who could get him to truly speak his mind, after all. Even if that scares him a little bit. “It’s not a big deal, Pep. I’m just overreacting.”

“There’s no such thing as overreacting in situations like these.”

She says it in a way that leaves no room for any arguments or disagreement, so Tony simply sighs. “Right. I’m reacting more than usual. Pepper, he caught me off guard and said some weird things and then I was looking at stuff online revolving around the whole case I’m looking into, I need to know more.”

Pepper is silent for a moment. “Was that before or after the mission?” she asks, both gently and sharply. 

Tony knows there’s really no right answer to that question.

“Look, Pepper,” he says slowly, letting himself lean against the wall and stare up at the ceiling. “I need to know I can do this. What I found on the internet… Well, let's just say no one sounded very hopeful that anyone would ever crack the case. I promised this worried aunt, who still hasn’t given up on finding her nephew, that I would try. She asked me – she could’ve asked anyone else, but she asked me. I won’t let her down, not until I know there’s nothing else I can do.”

A breath of air sounds, somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “Tony, honey, I love you so much. You know that, right ?” Pepper asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer – she already knows that he does. “You have such a big heart, despite the things you and the media say. You're a good man; remember that.” 

“Pepper…” Tony speaks slowly, not sure what to say.

“No – you are,” Pepper scoffs. “Point is: I want you to recognize that you are trying and that it’s enough. Okay? And Miss Parker asked you because she believes in you, and I do, too. You have a brilliant mind, so if anyone can figure out what happened to this boy, it’s you. But, I also don’t want you fretting about this every second of every day. Let yourself breathe sometimes. Don’t feel guilty when you want to step away and do something for yourself.”

Logically and rationally, Tony knows Pepper is right. But he still has his doubts. He decides to leave that thought for another time. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. Just… Don’t get too sappy. I'm even starting to tear up.”

“Good,” Pepper says, satisfied; Tony isn’t sure if she’s referring to him agreeing or tearing up. “I put the case file in the drawer of your nightstand.”

Tony quickly makes his way to the drawer Pepper is talking about. He pulls out the off-white file with a quick aha. “Thank you, the most wonderful girlfriend in the world,” Tony smiles.

Pepper snorts. “I won't be home until late. We can talk more in the morning. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Once Pepper hangs up, Tony throws his laundry into the hamper flops, and sits down on the floor; the perfect place to spread everything out, he decides as he opens the file.

“Boss, Mister Wilson said he made some mac and cheese,” FRIDAY says, once again disrupting him. “He and the team are waiting for you to come down.”

“Tell them to just save some for me, I’ll eat it later,” Tony sighs.

FRIDAY is quiet for a moment before responding, “He says you better.” The AI’s voice is as even and neutral as always, but Tony can somehow still hear a layer of annoyance behind the words. He chooses to ignore that.

Thing is, Wilson didn’t join the Avengers until after the events of Ultron took place, but that didn’t mean he knew him any less. Sam had a knack for figuring people out, and Tony is sure that in another lifetime he’d been a therapist. He knew of Tony’s old habits of insomnia and drinking. He knows how he used to skip meals to instead spend another few hours in his lab. Sam also knew things that Tony wasn’t ready to admit to or acknowledge; like how he’s very close to reforming those habits he and Pepper tried so hard to ward off.

He won’t fall off the edge, Tony declares to himself as he pulls the very few pieces of paper out and sets them in front of himself in a way they can all be seen. Just remember Pepper’s words.

Everything supplied by the police was hopeless, only stating the basic facts about Peter, and how it was a cold case. But the stuff May added is helpful; she has her phone number, along with Ned Leeds, who was close to the missing boy, and a bunch of photographs. Basically, anything she could find that could in any way, shape, or form help Tony out.

Looking at the photos is a bit eerie. They display a happy boy, who had no idea what would happen to him. That’s what Tony hates about the world; one course of action or situation could change everything, and not always for the better. 

Tony looks at each picture carefully, hoping that some tiny detail would give him just the tiniest of a clue. One is taken of Peter on a tire swing in a wooded area. In the background he can make out a woman who must be May, who is sitting on a lawn chair, looking at the kid with a bright smile. He turns over the photo to see that there’s writing on the back. Central Park, 2007. Tony goes to the next photo, which has Peter hugging another boy his age, both of them laughing brightly in front of a photo of Tony himself. The man can tell they’re at one of his events, and the assumption is confirmed when he looks at the back and finds some writing once more: Ned & Pete at Stark Expo, 2009. He goes through more and more photographs, none giving Tony much of a lead. The only thing he finds himself learning is what kind of kid Peter was. That alone rips and puts back together the man’s heart all at once. He hopes was is still an is.

After a frustrated sigh, Tony accepts that everything in the file was what he’d found on the internet. He takes out his Stark phone and searches once more. Maybe if he just looks deep enough, he’ll dig up something buried deep down under. Article after article, Tony can only find repeats of what he already knows. He scrolls frantically, groaning and dropping his head in his hands every once in a while out of frustration. 

At some point he comes across news footage, the same that was linked at the top of the video of the first article he looked at. He quickly taps on it, watching as J. Jonah Jameson rambles on and on. Tony scrunches his nose at how awful this man can be. He’s had his fair share of Jamenson saying nasty things about him and his company. That was one thing, but this is a missing child he was talking about.

Tony is close to angrily clicking off when suddenly surveillance footage is shown on the screen, showcasing the exact moment Peter went missing. It’s black and white, and a little glitchy, but is easy to make out. Peter was riding on his bike in a deserted area when the footage glitches and then… he’s just gone. Tony watches it over and over again, searching in the background, what’s in front of Peter, and just anything he can see. It’s clear that the footage was messed with, somehow disconnected right as Peter disappeared. That makes one thing known: none of it was accidental. Tony watches it more, and then some more. Then he just can’t take it anymore.

Tony throws his phone onto the bed and lets out a loud groan.

“You appear to be distressed; shall I inform Colonel Rhodes?” FRIDAY asks.

Tony sighs, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine, Fri. No worries.”

Except there is, Tony thinks bitterly. It’s impossible – he can’t do this. He sucks in a breath and grabs the file again. He opens it, trying to find the sticky note with May’s number. He’ll let her down easy, maybe even buy her a cup of coffee and – Another photo slips out.

Tony’s about to let out another annoyed grunt when he realizes that he hasn’t looked at yet; he must’ve missed it. He picks it up and turns it over. Birthday dinner with friends, August 2011. That’s just before he went missing. The photo has three people sitting at the table; on the left is Ned, who's holding a thumbs up, and then there’s a girl on the right with curly hair and an awkward smile. Peter is in the middle, with a birthday hat that says ten on it. He’s smiling widely, but his eyes aren’t looking at the camera, but at the girl instead. Tony smiles despite himself – he knows a crush when he sees one. He then looks into the background to find Ben, who he can easily recognize now from other photos, who has something in his hands. Next to him is a man who…

Tony’s blood goes cold.

His expression is stone-cold. He has dark hair and equally dark eyes to match, and a smile is etching his features, but it’s eerie and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

It’s Carter Ivanov.

Chapter Text

The doctor put her hands over my liver;

she told me my resentment's getting smaller

– Garden Song

Somewhere deep inside a HYDRA base in the year 2011 was a boy strapped to a table. 

This boy did not know his name, nor did he know his age. Really, his entire past was a blur. He didn’t even remember how he ended up there, just that one day he opened his eyes and there he was with doctors surrounding him, looking at him like he was something other than human. He had his questions and his complaints, he wanted to know what it was they were doing to him and why they couldn’t pick a more comfortable surface for him to spend every hour of every day. But he couldn’t – not with the muzzle covering his mouth.

So he listened instead.

The doctors mostly spoke in Russian, which the boy knew nothing of. But having nothing to do except sleep and be in excruciating pain seemed to give one a lot of time to think and learn about his surroundings. He analyzed each English word spoken around a Russian one until he knew enough to know what they were talking about no matter the language. He picked up on them talking about the research, he knew when things were going well or when things were going bad. He heard them talk about an organization known as HYDRA, which they apparently worked for. He even noticed that they called him by a name – Паук.

He wondered if that had always been his name. He didn’t feel much when he heard it, only the relief he wasn’t totally nameless. He learned to like it, though – after all, it was the only part of himself he knew that wasn’t being torn apart and pieced back together. 

Паук spent an unknown amount of time strapped to that very table and he was sure he would die there. Each breath he took, he counted, expecting it to be his last. Really, Паук hoped it would be his last. He was sick of being a science experiment, and he was sick of feeling everything they did to him at all times. But that particular breath never came. They would probably dispose of him once he was no longer of use, Паук thought logically. There was nothing else for him to do for HYDRA outside of the lab, whatever it was that the organization was made for. They certainly wouldn’t just let him go; it was clear to Паук that these people meant business, and that once you step foot into the place, there was no looking back. 

So it was certainly a surprise to him when suddenly the muzzle was taken off his mouth, and his chains were maneuvered so that they were no longer attached to the table.

Maybe this is it, Паук thought.

Instead, Паук was led down a long hallway, to an elevator and then another hallway all while being surrounded by mean-looking guards. They all towered over him, making Паук realize how short he really was. It wasn’t like he was standing all that much down in the lab. His legs shook and his breathing was uneven, but he made the distance without much trouble. 

The guards led him into a room made of metal and stone. The lights flickered above the boy and the table they sat him at was rusted and bolted to the floor. Паук closed his tired eyes, letting the men do as they pleased. It was a routine he’d grown accustomed to, as well as the idea of not fighting back. The guards take the chains attached to his wrists and ankles and secure them to the ground. Паук was able to set his hands on the table, feeling the coldness of the surface. It reminded him of the place he was always kept. The memories of being cut open over and over tainted his memories, and when he tried to find a moment before that – a tiny beacon of hope, or just anything from the outside world – he found only blankness. 

A guard’s hand reached up to his face and Паук had to fight back a flinch. The man took a key and inserted it into his muzzle. The sounds of it unlatching filled Паук’s ears and he suddenly felt a cool breeze of air against his face. The boy touched his lips with his hands, feeling out chapped and split they were, and his cheeks were sensitive and dry. As a few of the guards left and two or three went to stand in the corner, ready to take action if necessary, Паук realized there was a mirror in front of him.

Seeing himself for the first time was just as scary as it sounds. He didn’t know his age – but he could tell he was young. His face was a dead giveaway; too soft and delicate to be thought of as manly. His body was also very scrawny and small, his bare feet dangling just above the floor and his hospital gown swallowing him whole.

Паук could hear the pattern of a heartbeat from the other side of the mirror. He found that he sensed things most wouldn’t; like how he could sense one of the guards wiggling his fingers without moving, or how the other guards was struggling to not fall asleep. So thinking that there was a presence on the other side of the mirror watching him wasn’t too far of a stretch, even if it left a shiver going down his spine.

The person started to move until they were no longer behind the mirror, but the wall to Паук’s right. The movement got closer and closer until the doorknob was turning. The hinges of the door cracked so loud Паук winced, and a man was revealed. The boy found himself sinking lower into his seat, ignoring the tugs of the chains, and his heart rate escalating.

The man’s expression was something that could only be described as mean and shallow. He had dark hair and equally dark eyes to match, and in his hands he held a file. He made his way to the other side of the table and tossed the file onto it. Паук shuddered as the other chair was pulled out, causing a loud screech to sound. If his thoughts were a sound, he was sure it’d be that.

“I’m Carter Ivanov; your handler,” he grunted – his accent was thick with Russian. His eyes burned into Паук for a moment and his nostrils flared. For a moment, the young boy felt as though this wasn’t the first time they met. He quickly pushed that thought away. Mister Ivanov then narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to Паук. “Do you know who you are?”

Паук opens his mouth, then closes it. He realized that he’d never spoken before. At least not in the frame that his memory extended. Паук wasn’t even sure if he could speak, or what it would sound like. “Паук,” he tried. His voice was shaky and scratchy, and his throat ached as the word slipped off of his tongue.

Mister Ivanov smiled, except it wasn’t really a smile. “Exactly. You’re Паук,” he said, clearly satisfied. Паук basked in it for a moment – maybe this man wasn’t so bad. “You must’ve been listening. I like that in a boy; it makes them more obedient.”

Паук nodded in agreement because he didn’t have a reason not to.

“Well let's just get on with this.” Mister Ivanov’s demeanor changed completely in a way that startled Паук. He opened the file for both of them to see. “This file has everything we need to know about you.”

Паук hesitated but asked nonetheless. “My past?” he croaked.

Mister Ivanov scoffed, his eyes going even darker. “You don’t have a past, only a present and a future. You were created by our best HYDRA scientists. What may seem like memory loss is only a time when you didn’t yet exist. You have one simple purpose: to be a weapon at HYDRA’s disposal. HYDRA is the reason you are in front of me right now; don’t get that confused with being human or having a past – neither of those things is anywhere near true.”

Паук gulped, leaning into the back of his chair so that he was as far away as he could possibly be. If he wasn’t not human was he? And what does Mister Ivanov mean by weapon? He didn’t dare ask.

The older man’s finger pointed at a column in the file. “Your abilities include heightened senses, enhanced healing, super strength, and sticking to surfaces.” This all made sense to Паук; he was able to do odd things, after all. “You will use those abilities to help HYDRA’s cause: peace for the world. You understand?”

Паук nodded. Peace sounded like a good thing. Right?

Mister Ivanov tapped his fingers against the metal surface. There was a moment when his eyes just burned into Паук, unmoving. The young boy found himself aware of every little thing surrounding him – especially himself. 

“This is how it’s going to work, Паук,” Mister Ivanov finally spoke. His facial expression was sharp, and Паук could tell he meant business. If the boy didn’t listen, something bad could happen. Паук decided to keep that in mind. “You will be closely supervised; every move you make will be supervised. The more we trust you, the more freedom you will have. The less we are able to trust you, the less freedom you will have.

“There are rules. Five very important rules,” he continued. He then grabbed a pen and notepad out of his shirt pocket. With a click of the pen, Mister Ivanov started writing. Паук didn’t even have to look; somehow with the sounds of the pen against the paper, he could make out the number one. It was a list. He began writing out words. “First, you will listen to everything I or anyone else says. Everyone here is your superior in all shapes and forms. Second, you will not speak unless spoken to. Your words do not matter unless they better HYDRA. Thirdly, you will never say anything bad about HYDRA. Everything this organization does is to better the world. HYDRA is our home, it is our purpose, and we will honor that till the day we die. Fourthly, there will be no more English. At least, not until you are fluent in Russian.”

Паук’s eyes narrowed and he frowned. “But I don’t know Russian,” he whispered.

“You will learn,” Mister Ivanov said strictly. “Russian is HYDRA’s main language, and you will learn it using the books we provide you.” His handler then slid the piece of paper to Паук. The boy looked at it closely, realizing the shape of the letters was not how he knew it. They must be the Russian alphabet. He notices there is one more rule that Mister Ivanov hasn’t said out loud, but he can not make it out.

Паук looked up, only to meet the scary eyes of the man in front of him. A dangerous smirk curls at his lips, “Finally, don’t think – even for a moment – that you are human. You are nothing but a weapon; an asset if you will. You were created from the DNA of a spider with the purpose of killing and serving.”

Kill. Паук shuddered at the word. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be killed, but the idea of him taking someone else’s life away from them. Innocent or not.

“If you remember that; if you remember all of that, things will go smoothly,” Mister Ivanov said firmly. “If not, a very certain consequence will take its course.”

Pain? Death? Паук wasn’t sure what that consequence would be, but he didn’t want to find out. Mister Ivanov had different plans, however.

“Have you ever heard of the Winter Soldier?”

Паук opened his mouth but then remembered rule number four. He shook his head. 

“He was once HYDRA’s best assassin back in the day,” Mister Ivanov elaborated. “Until he betrayed us. Sadly, we had to terminate him after that. But in his height, he did some wonderful things to better our organization.”

Terminate – death. For some reason, Паук found the idea of that both scary and intriguing all at once. Whatever came after death certainly must be better than this.

The handler continued, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “You will become the next Winter Soldier; the better Winter Soldier. Think of yourself as… the Winter Spider. And with that role comes a similar set of, as I mentioned before, consequences. Only we’ve changed them a bit. I think the problem with the last Winter Soldier was the lack of self. A mindless drone, he was – and all because of ten words.”

Ten words. Ten words. Ten words. 

Паук didn’t know what he meant by that, but a cold sensation swept over his tiny figure. Somehow his brain knew, and was screaming at him to run. But the words sounded as if they were underwater. Something at the back of Паук’s neck tingled, something that had been consistent as long as he’d been conscious. He couldn’t quite scratch it.

“You see, young Паук, these ten words, said in a certain order made him who we wanted him to be,” Mister Ivanov grunted. “But at certain points, if presented with things from his past, he would see past those ten words. He would begin to fight back until he ultimately got away. The problem there was that we didn’t condition him in his right mind. No matter how many times we drilled those ten words into his mind, there was always a part of him that fought against us. That’s the part who betrayed us in the end.”

Паук swallowed, his wrists tugging at the chains. He needed to get away. 

“That’s why we’ve drilled ten words into your mind,” the HYDRA man pointed one slender finger at the young boy. Паук’s mouth went dry. “Only, those words will be activated one at a time. We tell you to kill, you will kill; we tell you to complete a mission, you will complete that mission. If not, I will say the word – and every time, it will rip at your conscience. When the tenth word is said, you will be a mindless drone at our command. But that won't be necessary, will it, Паук?”

“Нет,” Паук breathed, recalling the word. No.

Mister Ivanov smirked. “Very good… Guards.”

As Mister Ivanov gathered his things, the guards in question gathered Паук. They tugged and pulled on him, leading to another unknown place.

Паук wasn’t completely sure what this all meant, or what HYDRA truly stood for. But he did know one thing: when the time was right, he would run – and he would never look back.

Chapter Text

Laying there, my lifeblood draining out of me

A childhood scene, night sky, moon beams

– You Missed My Heart

Tony’s entire world seems to have completely frozen on its axis.

He mindlessly pokes at Wilson’s mac and cheese, staring off into space. The whole setup is really domestic, really; the Avengers sitting around chattering as they eat. If one was unaware of their status in the world, they could easily mistake them as a run-of-the-mill family. But that's beside the point, really. Those are not actually the thoughts running through Tony Stark’s mind, but merely a distraction. And no, he’s not oblivious to the worried glances between the others’ domestic dialogue.

“Tony?”

…What should he do? What should he do?…

“Tony.”

The man in question’s head snaps up to see Natasha staring at him, in the calculating way she always does when she knows something’s up. Damn, those spy skills. The Black Widow’s hair is pulled into a single messy French braid at the back of her head, she’s wearing her usual tight black attire that she wears both in and out of books, and she’s holding her bowl of mac and cheese in one hand while the other fidgets with the book in her lap. The rest of the team follows her gaze to Tony, all quick to match her worried expression.

“What?” Tony hums. Playing dumb seems to be the only option at this moment.

“You’ve been quiet ever since we got back from the mission,” Nat explains as if it's obvious because it is. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed. Especially with how you’ve barely eaten Sam’s mac and cheese; which we all know is one of your favorites.”

Steve nods in agreement. “Yeah, man. You haven’t even made fun of me once. Which, by the way, is a bit refreshing. But not in the way I would’ve hoped.” 

Tony’s silent for a moment. He could just play dumb, or flat-out deny their accusations. That wouldn’t work, though; Tony is usually very good at hiding his emotions from someone who isn’t Rhodey or Pepper, and the fact he cannot hide from them at this moment really says something.

At his lack of response, Rhodey speaks up, “Did something more on the mission than you’re letting on? You know that you can tell us.”

All the other Avengers nod in agreement, giving Tony a reassuring look.

God, he’s never been built for the whole emotions thing – it’s a Stark trait Tony has failed to overcome time and time again. The idea of talking about his feelings and expressing them openly scares him like the dark scares a little kid. There was a time when he’d drown out his thoughts with alcohol and partying, but he reminds himself that that part of his life is over. After all, it’s all that he and Pepper have been working on since Ultron: being a better man. That’s why he took the case in the first place, so if expressing his emotions is something that can help him in this cause, then so be it.

“A woman came to my office yesterday,” Tony begins, after sucking in a long breath. Immediately, Clint’s eyes narrow, and Sam’s mouth opens but no words come out. The billionaire knows exactly what the two and everyone are thinking and scoffs, “I would never cheat on Pepper, what kind of man do you think I am?”

For a moment Tony is met with silence. He almost wants to bark out with laughter, but Bruce cuts in. “Just let him explain guys,” he says both calmly and sternly. 

“Right. A woman came to my office yesterday in a hurry,” Tony continues. “I mean, you should’ve seen her. Happy was all over the place and she was just fighting off all the security guards. I knew it must’ve been something important, so I humored her.” He trails off for a moment, wondering how exactly to explain that he’s attempting to find a missing kid who could have very well been killed by the HYDRA agent they just brought in.

“And…?” Bucky urges him to continue, a frown pulling at his lips.

Tony lets out a puff of air before continuing, “Have any of you heard of a boy named Peter Parker?”

“The one that went missing a few years ago?” Clint asks. “Me and Laura saw it on the news. Sad story.”

“Yes, exactly,” Tony nods, relieved Barton did some of the explaining for him. “Well the woman who came in the office was May Parker; his aunt. I’m pretty sure she and her husband took Peter in after his parents died.”

“Why would she want to come to your office?” Natasha frowns. Her eyes light up and it seems to click. “Oh, my god, Stark. Please tell me you didn’t.” Tony stays silent, and the rest of the team seems to be unsure of what she means. That’s when she elaborates, “You did. You took on the boy’s case. Didn’t you?”

The whole room breaks into all levels of tones. Steve looks at Tony like he’s grown two heads, Rhodey’s jaw is slightly ajar, and Bucky seems mildly impressed. All of the reactions are mixed, but none of them seem all that positive. There seems to be one question floating around: why Tony?

“Look, guys,” the billionaire sighs once their attention is back to him. “All I know is what May said: Peter looked up to me and somehow I’m her last hope at finding him. That’s a lot of pressure, you know. And it wasn’t exactly easy to tell the poor woman no. Especially not after… not after Ultron.” Tony looks at the blank wall when he says the last words, unwilling to look at any one of his teammates. 

Luckily they all understand what he’s trying to say; he can’t make another villain for the world to face. Rhodey pats him on the arm, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I don’t get it, though,” Bucky hums, speaking the most words he’s had in a little bit. “What’s got you worked up? The fact that you haven’t found clues? I’m sure you’ll find something .”

Tony gulps. “Oh, yes. That part… Well, at first it was just the fact that I couldn’t find anything. This was all over the news for a reason: Peter disappeared without a single trace or clue except for some surveillance footage. Luckily May put some extra stuff in the file she gave me, otherwise, I would’ve just been looking at NYPD’s paperwork on how there was basically nothing they could do. She gave me some old photos documenting parts of Peter’s life. I didn’t really expect to learn anything except what kind of kid he was. But I was wrong. I found… There was a photo from his birthday with two of his friends. In the background was his Uncle Ben and next to him– This guy; he just looked so familiar, I…”

“Tony,” a voice urges him to carry on. A ringing in Tony’s ears drowns out his ability to make out exactly who it is.

“It was Ivanov. HYDRA agent Carter Ivanov.”

This time, after a sharp inhale from Bucky, Tony is met with silence.

–

It isn’t that the Avengers didn’t try to help, it's not even the ideas they came up with. It’s just… Well, there just isn’t anything they can actually do . Somehow, Tony finds comfort in the fact that they know and that they try to understand, even if they do think he’s a bit out of his mind. Maybe he is.

But he can do this — he can.

Tony is moving around in his lab, a bulletin board in front of him as he takes all the evidence he’s found, piecing it together. Tony gathers pins and thread, what May gave him, and even the stuff he found on the internet. It looks exactly how it did in the movies, with one red thread connecting to things, with a quickly scribbled-out sticky note in between, explaining the connections. The billionaire does this for what seems like hours, rearranging it all in all sorts of ways. But no matter what, it seems to end in one single dead end: Carter Ivanov.

The HYDRA agent has been haunting Tony’s mind for a long time now, questions floating around the man’s emotionless glare. How did Peter know Ivanov? How were they connected? Were they close? Tony can’t seem to answer any of those questions – but he knows someone who can.

Tony’s eyes move from the photo to the green paper with May’s number. He bites the inside of his cheek, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Boss?” FRIDAY says from the ceiling. “Would you like me to contact Miss Parker for you?”

Tony considers it but sighs, shaking his head. “Not necessary, Fri… I can do this. I just have to figure out what to say.” He slowly dials May’s number into his phone before hesitantly pressing the call button. How can you possibly tell a woman that her nephew’s disappearance is most likely connected to the most feared organizations in the world?

A few moments pass before she answers, and when she does, Tony sucks in a breath. “This is May Parker.”

“And you know who I am.” Yes, lighten the mood before you completely shut the blinds.

“Oh! Mister Stark,” May says after a beat. “Have you found a lead? I was expecting to wait a bit longer. I’m glad you called, though. I’m on a shift at the hospital, though – can you make this quick?”

“Of course,” Tony agrees as he sits down at his desk. “How do I say this? I did find a lead, but it’s a bit… Well, I was looking at the photos and there was one from Peter’s birthday dinner. There’s a man in the background of the photo talking to your husband, Ben, and he just seems so familiar. What’s his name?”

“I think you’re talking about Hank Fredricks,” May answers. “ Ben met him at a bar and they got pretty close. He’s a bit intimidating when you first meet him but is really a sweet man; Peter loved him. God, I haven’t heard from him since Ben died.”

“Don’t. Don’t contact him,” Tony quickly advises. She gave him a different name, which for a moment relieved Tony. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t him anyway. Ivanov could have given the Parker family a fake name, or she might be thinking of someone else.

“I’m sorry?”

“Just trust me on this, okay?” he urges. “I don’t want to give too much information until I know my theory is true. But this man; I know him, and he is not a good person. I don’t want him hurting you if he finds out you’ve been having me look into this.”

May is quiet for a moment before whispering, “You think Hank has something to do with Peter going missing?” She sounds so heartbroken and shocked.

“I can’t tell you for sure, Miss Parker. But I’ll find out,” Tony promises, hoping he won’t be forced to break it. “You said they met at a bar? Let's start with that.” He takes out another sticky note and a pen, popping it open.

“Um, yes. They did…” She trails off for a moment, before clearing her throat and continuing," When Ben was alive he would go to a bar called Charlie’s every Saturday night to hang out with some coworkers. I’m not sure how, but he began talking to Hank at some point in 2011, a few months before Peter disappeared. He invited us and Peter to dinner one night, and, well, after that he was a big part of our lives. He said he had no family, so we let him be an honorary member of ours.”

Writing this all down, Tony nods, despite knowing she can’t see it. “What’s the address to this bar?”

May gave him some numbers and a street in Queens. “It’s actually near where Ben was shot. Do you… Do you think he had something to do with Ben’s death, too?”

Tony chews on his lip for a moment, previously unaware of the man’s death. It makes sense, though. “It’s a possibility, Miss Parker. I’m sorry.” If it wasn’t Ivanov directly, it was most likely HYDRA.

“May,” she corrects him. “You can call me May.”

Tony smiles ever so slightly, “Alright – it’s Tony then.”

May hums, still sounding sad. But there’s some hope in the sound as if she has faith in him. You’re her last chance, he reminds himself with a long breath.

“Thank you, Tony,” May says earnestly. “It means a lot to me that you agreed to do this. This might not be the best news I could’ve gotten, but it’s more than anyone else has ever given me.”

“Of course. I’ll keep you updated.” With that, they hung up.

Tony has a bar to go to.

–

Seeing the Tony Stark at some random bar isn’t an everyday experience. Especially when said bar was in one of the more shadier sides of Queens, full of middle-aged men who were drunk on beer and watching football. Tony ignores the stares, though, looking around the Charlie’s bar with great intent. He is here for a reason, and a few gawking eyes and the possibility of reporters surrounding him aren’t going to stop him. Really, the only thing he is worried about is the lecture he will receive from Happy about his safety.

Country music hums quietly from the ceilings – not Tony’s type of music, but it isn’t horrible. A game of pool is in progress in one corner, with a group of men either cheering or booing the guy who held the cue stick. Everyone else seems to be talking up a storm or focusing purely on the game at their own respective tables. The last thing Tony notices is a large wall, full of photographs.

The billionaire walks along the wall, looking up and down, and side to side to see if Ben or Ivanov happens to be in one of the bad-quality photos. He’s surprised when he finds a rather large one that has a frame, unlike the others. It’s covered in messages from people Tony can only assume to be his friends, saying how much they’ll miss him. Ben is holding up a beer with a large smile on his face. In the background is a man he doesn’t recognize, photo-bombing him with a funny face and a peace sign. Feeling a pang of sadness, Tony walks away.

He goes deeper into the bar, pushing past people who make sure to give him a second glance. He can hear many people whispering his name and pointing. Ignore it.

Tony didn’t know what he expected to find. He wants to walk out and leave until word gets around that he’s at the bar and people come swarming in. He decides to try to find someone who knew Ben; maybe they could tell him something. The hero’s mind wanders back to the photo and the man photobombing Ben. Somehow, the universe seems to give him some luck and he catches sight of someone who looks exactly like him sitting at the bar.

“What is it with photos giving me all these clues?” Tony whispers to himself, a smirk pulling at his lips.

The man has a larger build, almost like Thor. His hair is long and so is his beard, both dark with gray streaks. But what catches Tony’s attention the most is how he’s alone, burning a hole into his drink with his eyes. Gathering up his signature Tony Stark confidence, he makes his way towards him.

“You knew Ben Parker?” Tony asks, nonchalantly, his hand making it to the edge of the table,

Still, he doesn’t look up. “Who’s asking?” he grunts.

“That’d be Tony Stark,” he hums. He gets a scoff in return, but the man looks up anyway. Instantly he’s met with surprised eyes. “Look, I know that you knew Ben. Just answer some questions and I’ll be on my way. Drinks on me.” 

“Fine. Sit.”

“So, you got a name?” Tony asks. This man has walls built up, and he’s ready to break them down.

“Chris Welmers,” he replies, taking a sip of his beer. “Aren’t you turning too many heads walking into a place like this?”

Tony ignores the quip and grabs his notepad. “If you knew Ben, I’m assuming you also know Hank Fredricks. What exactly do you know about the details of his friendship with the Parkers.”

Chris barks out with laughter. It’s not cruel, exactly, but hysterical. “Oh, I get it. May sent you. Didn’t she? Ben was one of my closest friends – and his wife, she’s a very nice woman. Peter, I loved that boy; sweetest thing I’ve ever met. But when he went missing,  May and Ben went crazy . Looking for leads they would never find and all that. You aren’t the first person one of them has hired to look for Pete. Listen to me when I say all you’ll find are deadends.”

Tony narrows his eyes at the man. He isn’t a very hopeful person, isn’t he? “Go back to the part where they both went crazy,” he decides.

“Then you’ll leave?”

“Then I’ll leave.”

Chris sighs but gives in. “For May, it was just her falling into a fit of depression. She nearly lost her job for it. Ben would tell me how she wouldn’t get out of bed unless it had something to do with finding her nephew. At some point, she got over it. As much as she could at least. But Ben…”

Tony watches as his face turns sad – it’s the first real emotion he sees from the man.

“I think it had something to do with his brother. Peter’s father. Cause at least he had him. Until he didn’t.” Chris went quiet for a moment, giving Tony some time to scribble this all out. “Ben was obsessed with every little detail the police could give him, even though it was never much. He started telling me all these things. I think they were things he made up in his head without really realizing it; like some sort of coping mechanism.”

“Like what?” Tony pushes.

“Well I guess it comes full circle to who you mentioned before: Hank,” Chris says thoughtfully. “He kind of showed up out of nowhere, and once he did he always seemed adamant on getting to know Ben. They were fast friends, and even me and Hank got to know each other a bit, too. But Hank always seemed more focused on Ben. Anyways, the point is, some months after Peter was gone, Ben told me he heard him on the phone, talking about Peter. From what I can remember, Ben said he was saying that he had a flight to Russia, and now that he had stayed a bit after Peter disappeared so he wouldn’t look suspicious. Somehow that led him to believe HYDRA of all places had taken his nephew. He wouldn’t shut up about it, going around telling everyone to watch their kids and that they could be next. A week or so later, he was shot and killed.”

Tony sucks in a breath. It’s all coming together now.

After he writes this all down, he digs into his wallet and gives Chris some cash. “That’ll pay for a few drinks. And this information. You helped more than you think, trust me.”

Chris raises a brow, stuffing it into his pocket. “I’ve never liked you, Stark. But you seem very intent on finding the boy, so I’ll give you that. Also, you’re a lot smarter than all the other morons who took on Pete’s case. Let me know if you find him.”

“I’ll let you know when I find him,” Tony counters.

And that’s a promise he will keep. For both May and Chris.

Chapter Text

What if I told you I feel like I know you, 

but we never met?

– Punisher

Tony knows one thing for certain: HYDRA is the one behind the disappearance of Peter Parker.

He is able to organize his bulletin board meant just for this case into something that finally makes sense . The information Chris Welmers was able to give him made everything he already knew fall into place – Ivanov went undercover as Hank Fredricks to trick the Parker family; once he made his way in, he took Peter; and when Ben found out, he was killed before he got anyone to believe him.

But why ? HYDRA doesn’t waste their time hunting random children down. It had to have been for a reason. A good one, too. Tony stares and stares at the board, hoping something would spark an idea on what that was. He hopes the pictures will help him like they have before, but they only stare right back at him, burning holes into his skin.

“ Tony ,” Steve Rogers calls from behind the closed door, “You’ve been in that lab all morning – I wouldn’t be surprised if you pulled an all-nighter in there.”

Tony narrows his eyes as if Steve can see through the door. That isn’t true; he fell asleep sprawled out on one of the leather couches while he was laying all of this new information out. Nevertheless, he forces himself to his feet and signals for FRIDAY to let the super soldier in. 

Steve steps in with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He moves around the room as if trying to suck in every detail. It’s then that Tony realizes he’s never been in here; he is very private about his personal bubble, and the only Avenger with full access is Bruce. 

The relationship between Ironman and Captain America is, well, complicated to say the very least. Tony doesn’t hate him, not like he did when the whole “Battle of New York” fiasco went down all those years ago. That was a petty hate; one rooted down by the memories of his father going on and on about how he worked with Steve Rogers. That hate turned into something much like indifference and then suddenly Tony found himself calling Steve family. Still, the cruel words they once threw at each other still hung awkwardly in the air, but Tony is willing to look past it all. Steve seems to be, too.

“So,” Tony drags out the word in a childlike manner that makes Steve roll his eyes, “Did you come in here for a reason, or to just gawk at my lab.”

Steve opens his mouth then closes it. Tony waits. “I just wanted to… well, check on you.”

Tony raises a brow. “ Check on me?” he questions – he’s never heard that one before. Not from Steve, at least.

Steve nods slowly and silence hangs over them for a moment. Tony isn’t sure this could get any more awkward. Maybe he should make a joke… No. No, he shouldn’t. That’s not what Pepper would do. Also, Sam said that was just one of the many unhealthy defense mechanisms Tony’s acquired in his forty-six years of life. Tony’s never been very good at emotions, but he supposes Steve hasn’t either.

“Me and the team have been a bit worried,” Steve finally fills the silence. His eyes fall onto something and Tony turns around to see he’s looking at his Peter Parker board. “You trying to find this kid – well, let's just say that’s not something we imagined you spending your time doing. But it’s good. We just don’t want you to let it ruin you.”

Tony grins cheekily, “Aww, Cap . I always knew you cared.”

Steve snorts, “Of course I am. Now, make sure you’re ready in thirty minutes tops – We’re leaving for the meeting with Fury soon. And… Me and Bucky were talking and we think it's best if you tell him about the connection he has to Peter Parker.”

The billionaire knows he’s right, but he decides not to agree or disagree until he thinks it through. Instead, Tony gives him a suggestive look, “Bucky?” he smirks.

Steve’s cheeks go red for a split second. Tony studies his face and finds he doesn’t seem angry he brought it up, but somehow relieved. He wonders how long Steve has been holding it in. “Sometimes I think you know me too well.”

Tony only chuckles. “I think you should go for it. It is the 21st century, after all. And for what it's worth, Bucky looks at you the same way you look at him. So, there’s that.”

“...I’ll think about it,” is all Steve says before making his way out the door.

–

If there is one thing people who worked with Tony Stark knew, it would be how much the man hates meetings.

It was something that Howard Stark once scolded his son about when he dragged him to one. Tony remembers his father’s angry face all too well as he told him how he would one day be the head of this company and he would need to be more mature. Now that Tony is the head of said company, he’s found skipping the meetings, or making a joke out of the ones that he had no choice on going to, didn’t affect the quality of Stark Industries. Meetings or not, he’s made the company a better, weapon free environment. Besides, he has Pepper to fill him in on everything discussed, even if he got a few snide remarks from her on the way. 

The point is, Tony finds sitting at a large table, listening to someone drone on and on , the most boring thing one could do. 

One might think this particular meeting would be different. After all, Tony has dedicated his past few days to one cause – finding Peter Parker – which just so happens to be connected to the topic Nick Fury was currently discussing. But really, they’ve only had Ivanov in their hands for one day, what could they have possibly have found? Tony looks over at Steve, who is sitting between Bucky and Sam, listening intently as Fury goes through the process the SHIELD agents spent all night on. Maybe he should listen to the super soldier and tell Fury about his findings; they seem to be much more valuable than whatever it is he already has.

Tony sighs inwardly before digging into his pocket to pull out his phone. Typing in his password, he easily ignores the side eye Bruce is giving him. For a few minutes, the billionaire mindlessly taps at things, half listening to Natasha as she makes a suggestion. But he soon finds himself messaging Pepper about their plans for a date night, to which she tells him to pay attention. Rolling his eyes, he clicks off.

Then he has an idea. 

He clicks on May’s contact before writing out a message. Unsure of what to say, he deletes and rewrites it a few times before finally settling on something and hitting send.

Tony: Did you notice anything strange about Peter before his disappearance? Like his relationship with Hank or anything like that?

May: I don’t think so, no. Their bond was pretty typical for a young boy and a family friend.

Tony sighs at the response. But then the bubble pops up, indicating that May is adding onto it. He waits a few moments, tuning back into the meeting.

“You listening, Stark?” Fury narrows his eyes. 

Tony flashes him a cheeky grin, “Always am.” Clint snorts.

May: Well, he and his best friend, Ned, were acting a little strange, I suppose. Ned would come over and they would immediately lock themselves in Peter’s room. Before they would always talk to me before heading up there, but I just brushed it off as them getting older.

Tony hums in satisfaction; that was something he could work off of. Momentarily he recalls Ned being one of the friends Peter was often photographed with, MJ being the other.

Tony: You got Ned’s address? I’d like to speak to him if that’s alright.

May: Oh, trust me. He’d LOVE that.

–

That’s how Tony finds himself in a nice apartment complex in Queens the next morning, knocking on door number thirteen.

A woman who looks to be in her thirties or forties opens the door after a beat, a steaming mug of what appears to be coffee in her hand. Tony waits a moment as recognition glints in her eyes and her jaw falls slightly open. “Mister Stark? How can– How can I help you?”

Ignoring the typical blubbering and awe-struck look, Tony simply smiles. “Ned Leeds lives here, correct? I’m assuming you’re his mother.”

“Oh, uh, yes ,” she frowns. She doesn’t seem upset, just confused – for that, Tony can’t blame her. “I’m Sarah Leeds. Sorry for my manners; come on in. I’ll text Ned to come down.”

Tony steps into the apartment, noticing a variety of decor. Overall, the place is cozy; with carpeted floors, warm colors, and candles letting off a smell of what could only be called the manufacturer name of “ mist and memories ”. He also notices a variety of pictures and how not a single wall or surface seems to be without one. Most are from Leeds but he notices some of Ned and his friends. He recognizes one with MJ and picks it up – yet they are so much older, unlike the photos Tony has. It almost catches him off guard. 

Tony tries to imagine what Peter might look like now. Many possibilities pop up in his mind, but none of them seem right .

“Why do you want to see Ned?” Mrs. Leeds puts her phone in her pocket, signaling to Tony the text has been sent.

“I’m hoping he’ll have some useful information on this case I’m working on,” he says simply, as he gently sets the frame down.

Mrs. Leeds’ face visibly softens. “I thought she would stop by now. I shouldn’t be so surprised, though; May has always been so determined. She comes over for dinner every Friday night when she doesn’t have a shift at the hospital. She’s great company, but me and Ned also fear she will be all on her own if she doesn’t. I think her mind is too preoccupied with work and the idea of finding Peter…” 

Tony completely understands. He doesn’t know why, but he does . “I’ll try my best to find him. I promise.”

Mrs. Leeds smiles kindly. Hope seems to spark in her eyes for a mere moment, until it's gone. Tony wonders if she has been through this before, only to be met with disappointment. He also wonders what weight of sadness that left on Ned. He shakes his head, erasing any pictures of a distressed boy when yet another person – Tony – fails to find his best friend.

In mere moments, Ned Leeds walks down the hallway, his eyes glued to his phone. It takes a moment for Tony to recognize him, realizing the photo from before was older than he thought. Ned is a full grown teenager, and it shows. The billionaire briefly remembers that he’ll be a junior in high school in the fall – that Peter should be a junior in the fall.

“Mom look at the photo MJ sent me from Russia–” Ned looks up, obviously expecting to see his mother. Instead he’s met with Tony, who’s blocking his view from Mrs. Leeds. His jaw drops. “Oh my god, Tony Stark is in my apartment . This is the best day of my life!”

Tony smirks, surprisingly not minding the kid’s fangirl attitude. “Nice pajamas,” he says.

Ned’s cheeks turn a bright red, and he looks down at his Captain America printed PJs. Tony almost wants to mention this to Steve next time he sees him, but that’d be a boost to the soldier’s ego. No one needs that. 

“Look, kid, let's put this simply,” Tony begins, “You’ve got information I need – or so May tells me. So I’m gonna ask you some questions. It can be with or without your mom, either is fine with me.”

Ned narrows his eyes. “You’re here about Peter? You’re not gonna find him.”

Well, that’s a blunt way to put it.

Mrs. Leeds sighs, walking over to place a comforting hand on her son’s shoulders. “Ned, honey, just give him a chance,” she whispers, but loud enough so Tony can hear it.

“I’ve given more people than I can count on my fingers for six years, and everytime I get disappointed,” Ned mutters, his hand running through his hair. Tony pities the kid. “I know May needs to do it to keep herself together, but why do I need to be involved? And Mister Stark, I know you’re a genius and all that, and I really do want my best friend back, but I don’t think you realize how impossible this is.” 

Tony chooses his next words very carefully. He knows this feeling of hopelessness, of wanting something so bad but resenting the idea all the same. “I’ll tell you one thing, Ned, I’ve gotten much farther than you think; perks of the sources as I get as an Avenger. I understand why you feel this way, but I need you to know with the information I have, there is a chance. And if you tell me what I think you know, those chances will be higher.”

Ned takes a second to think, then slowly nods. “Alright. But I won’t believe it until he’s standing right in front of me. Um… We can go to my room and talk; I have lots of memories of Pete there. Also I just cleaned it.”

“Well, I’d say that’s a pretty fair mindset,” Tony shrugs, taking what he can get.

Ned leads Tony to his room just as he sends the boy’s mother a goodbye. 

When he steps into the doorway, Tony is met with all sorts of decorations. Most are Star Wars, but he can find a handful of Avengers merchandise in there too. Some of it is even related to Bruce and his work, despite his other big, green half. Tony knows the man would appreciate that. The type of room Ned has, so full of life and his interests, is something Tony had once longed for in his teenage years. Instead, he had plain walls, plain bedding, plain everything . So seeing a kid with that type of room is filled with content and regret all at once. 

“I have a whole area dedicated to Peter and my memories with him. May calls it my Peter shrine,” Ned smiles smally, pointing to a shelf on the left side of his room. He carefully picks up a Death Star for Star Wars built out of legos, “We built this in fifth grade. Took us nearly a week.”

Tony watches as the boy starts picking items up, telling Tony their story. Tony is surprised when he pulls out a signed vinyl with a girl in a purple dress. He didn’t think those were used anymore. “Pete was a Taylor Swift fan, you know; an og one, too. Speak Now was his favorite, but I think it’d be 1989 if he would’ve been around to witness it.”

If Tony’s being completely honest, he knows nothing about Taylor Swift, except that she’s a blonde country singer who switched to pop and had a lot of boyfriends. Somehow, though, he finds himself with the urge to listen to her music to see what exactly Peter saw in her.

Lastly, Ned picks up a plastic Ironman mask, handing it to Tony. “That's from your very last Expo. Peter wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. I don’t know if you remember, but he was the kid you saved when he thought he could defeat those evil robots himself. You even said “ nice work kid ”.” 

Tony is silent for a moment, his voice caught in his throat. Suddenly, this cheap, plastic replica was much more valuable than his high tech, useful in combat ones. Running his thumb over it he looks up and smiles at Ned, “Oh, I remember . That kid scared me to death; I’ve always wondered if he was okay. I guess he was. Until…”

“Until he wasn’t,” Ned finishes for him. His voice is soft and shaky. If Tony was good with kids, he’d probably give the kid a hug or comfort him with words. But he isn’t; he’s awkward when it comes to physical affection, and can’t come up with words to ease one’s mind to save his life.

Ned clears his throat, taking the Ironman mask back and setting it back down. “So, what did you want to ask me?” His hands are fidgeting and he looks nervous.

“How do I put this?” Tony wonders, sitting down in front of the kid. “I wanted to know if Peter was acting strangely before it happened. I think I know who took him, but I need to know why. May said you and Peter acted strangely. You can tell me anything, alright, kid?”

Ned is silent for a moment, staring at his feet. He clears his throat. “Maybe a month or so before Peter disappeared, our class went on a field trip to Oscorp. Me and Pete kind of got left behind because we were distracted by this spider area. Apparently they were testing spider’s reactions to radioactivity or something like that. Anyways, Peter got bitten by one and got really sick.”

Tony narrows his eyes, “Sick?”

“Yeah – he got better, though,” Ned adds quickly. “The point is, after the sickness, there were some… well, side effects. It was so cool, Mister Stark. It was like he had powers. You know, like a superhero. He swore me to secrecy, and I promised I would never say anything. If I would’ve thought speaking up about it would help find him, I would. But it was the last promise I ever made to him, and I couldn’t – I couldn’t break it.”

“Ned, kid,” Tony raises a hand, “What exactly do you mean by powers ?”

“Spider powers; he could stick to walls, do all these spider-like things,” Ned whispers. “Are you saying he might’ve been taken because of it.”

Tony looks the kid in the eyes, not wanting to lie. He gathers his things and sighs, “It would make a lot of sense. Tell your mother goodbye, I really need to go. Thank you .”

Ned splutters for a moment, “Um – No problem. It was an honor to meet you.”

Tony smiles an honest to god smile. “Just an FYI, I looked into your academics; you’re really smart. You’d be a great intern once you graduate.”

Tony lets the boy gawk at him, speechless and bids him one last goodbye.

Now, he just needs to dive deep into Norman Osborn and his company.

Chapter Text

Everything's growing in our garden

You don’t have to know that it’s haunted

– Garden Song

2011

For the next few weeks, Паук found himself once again being poked and prodded at. Only, he couldn’t find a way to describe it, because he’d never experienced it before. It wasn’t the painful needles and other sharp objects in the lab, but instead… What was the word? It was foreign to Паук, yet somewhere deep inside his brain, as if he said it before. There was the water mixed with bubbles, the clean clothes, nothing like the pain and agony he had faced beforehand. It was relaxing. No, расслабляющий, he corrected himself.

He was unsure of the reason behind Mister Ivanov’s fourth rule: no speaking English, only Russian . It was unnecessarily cruel, Паук found, as one of the many nurses spoke to him, giving him orders he could only just barely understand – but maybe that was the point. Паук had his new found smartness to thank, however, for when he was given a book on learning the Russian language, he found the learning process to go somewhat smoothly. Still, it wasn’t clicking in the way his handler had wanted, Паук observed. Mister Ivanov would come to his room from time and time, and when Паук stumbled over his words, the look on the man’s face made him shrink back in fear. 

Unfair, unfair, unfair !

Паук threw the book at the stone wall, rolling over in his rock hard bed. He kicked his feet around in anger, clawing his fingers in his hair, which had recently been buzzed down to match Mister Ivanov’s. That was another factor in this situation that made him want to scream his lungs out. 

With a rush of adrenaline Паук bounced up from his bed and began pacing around his room. There had to be a way out. He wasn’t sure what exactly was beyond these walls, but certainly it had to be better than this . Паук had to make a plan. He took a moment to examine every inch of his room; there was the door of course(maybe a little too obvious, especially when he could hear the heartbeats of the numerous guards), a vent large enough for his tiny frame to fit into(he would have to take the extra time to figure out the maze to the outside world), and a window that touched the high ceiling. 

Паук grazed his hands against the wall, sticking the tips of his fingers onto the stone. He’d tested his powers before, but not really his crawling powers, as his handler describes them many times. It was almost second nature for him to make his way up to the window, though, and he was able to fog the window with his breath. He tried many strategies to get it to open; trying to pop it out, unscrew it, even punching it till his knuckles were bloody.

It wasn’t long till Паук sighed in defeat – the window seemed unbreakable, even with his superstrength. But really, why was he surprised? He backed into the corner of the ceiling, and rubbed the back of his neck, willing the tingles running up and down to disappear. 

A tiny blur moved in the corner of Паук’s eye, and he turned his head to observe the tiny creature. It had eight long legs. A spider. 

“ Паук ,” he whispered, letting it crawl into his tiny hands. It was the very thing he was named after, and he held onto that fact for dear life from the moment he knew his identity. The spider understood at least. It had to, on some level, for they shared DNA – the DNA from which he was created, he remembered Mister Ivanov had once told him. 

“A very interesting creature,” a voice sounded from his door. In English. Odd. Паук turned to see a man he had yet to meet. He had brown hair that was graying and very defined features, and had to be the best dressed person he’d ever seen. “Much like you.”

Not human – but creature... Не человек, а существо, he restated numbly.

“You can come down; I won’t harm you,” the man said.

Ten words. Ten words. Ten words.

Паук obliged, and made his way down. He still shrunk back into the corner, however, even if he was now on the ground. Паук cupped his hands protectively in his palms, looking up at the man slowly, who now stood closer.

He kneeled down to Паук’s level and gave a reassuring smile. “My name is Norman Osborn. It’s nice to meet you. Let’s take a look at that spider you’ve got there.”

Something screamed inside Паук not to trust this man, yet he opened his hands anyways, letting Mister Osborn examine the spider. “Ah, a black widow. Poisonous yet beautiful.” 

“Ядовитый?” Паук asked slowly. It didn’t seem poisonous, in fact, it seemed rather fond of him. 

Mister Osborn pursed his lips, “You can speak English, Паук. Agent Ivanov is one of our best, but he does make some rather silly rules, doesn’t he? Don’t worry young one; he should be honored at the task of being your handler. But yes, it’s poisonous, but maybe not to you. That’s a test we didn’t quite think of running.” 

This sentence made Паук rethink any trust he put towards this man. He was in control of the torture he was put through? He decided what parts of his body those surgeons ripped apart and put back together? But he was also the man who said he could speak English, who called Mister Ivanov’s rules silly. 

“I came here to talk to you about your training,” Mister Osborn said. “I’m sure Agent Ivanov has gone over your role here in HYDRA.”

“A weapon,” Паук whispered, letting the black widow run up his arm onto his shoulder. “HYDRA wants peace for the world.” But what exactly was in the world? Паук remembered seeing lots of green out that window, but there had to be more. Паук did not ask this question out loud, however.

“Yes, peace is what we want,” Mister Osborn nodded, “But you’re much more than a weapon. More of an asset. I’ve noticed how smart you are – not many young boys can learn so much of a language so quickly. I can see in your eyes how you observe things with such wonder, like that spider. I think you'll be of use when it comes to your powers, but also intellectually.”

Паук liked the sound of that much more than hurting people. He wanted to learn, and even more so if it helped HYDRA’s cause towards peace. 

“That’s why I think it would be better if you started with lessons before you went on to learning how to fight,” Mister Osborn continued. Паук found himself nodding in agreement. “You will be partnered up with my son, Harry. You’ll like him. Each agent has a partner they go on missions with, and you’ll learn all about HYDRA and combat with him until you guys are ready to go on missions together.”

“My size?” Паук wondered aloud. He shrunk back once more; Mister Ivanov didn’t like it when he asked questions.

But Mister Osborn only chuckled. “Well, yes, though he may be slightly taller.  He’s excited to meet you.”

Паук thought about it all for a moment… A boy his size would be nice, especially when he’d been surrounded by many who towered over him. Looking up at Miste Osbon, he let himself smile – an action he didn’t recall doing before. He supposed he liked Mister Osbon, and if Harry was his son, he couldn’t be all that bad.

“You’ll start classes tomorrow morning, Паук,” Mister Osborn said, patting the boy on the shoulder.

For once, Паук looked forward to waking up. 

–

Паук watched closely, from a distance.

He was able to spot Harry easily. For he had the same sharp bone structure as his father, and that brown hair that fell elegantly in front of his eyelashes. He also took notice of how all the other kids seemed to gravitate towards Harry, and how the other boy seemed to relish in it. Паук felt a pang of jealousy as he watched; not for Harry’s apparent popularity, but for his hair. Паук missed his hair, even if it had been knotted and laced with dirt, as well as his own blood.

But he decided not to think about that too much.

The teacher, Mrs. Wagner, sat at a desk and looked over some screening system as the small class busied themselves with a worksheet. Unlike his fellow classmates Паук found himself even struggling to read the words with in the questions in front of him. The Russian alphabet was a tricky thing, one that he hadn’t quite grasped the concept of. 

Harry now sat next to him, chewing at his lips as he quickly wrote out answers with such concentration Паук couldn’t begin to imagine mustering. The other boy stopped writing for a moment and looked up at him. Паук didn’t quite understand human social ques, being far from human, but he knew staring couldn’t be polite, so he looked away.

However, Harry took him by surprise when he whispered in a thick accent(one he’d been trying to copy ever since he took notice of how he was the only one without it), and fluent Russian. “You must be Паук. I should’ve introduced myself sooner, I’m Harry Osborn.”

Translating the words in his head for a brief moment, Паук nodded. “Yes, your father told me about you.”

If Паук stumbled over the Russian words or mispronounced anything, Harry didn’t say anything. Instead he smiled and tapped at the first question. “It’s saying to name all the Avengers. Don’t worry if you don’t know them, Mrs. Wagner only wants to test to see what we already know before she begins the course.”

Паук thanked him for his kindness, and all the other words in the following questions seemed to fall into place. 

“No problem, Паук,” Harry said kindly. “And don’t worry, you’re not the only one who started out not being fluent in Russian. Alex over there moved here from Germany with his family knowing no Russian at all. You’re definitely better off than he was; you know what I’m saying right now don’t you?”

Паук nodded – understanding others speaking Russian was much easier than speaking it himself. 

He decided not to ask what the Avengers were. Harry had gone out of his way enough to help him out, so he opted to make a guess. Besides, he was sure he’d learn what it was eventually. 

Паук remembered Mister Ivanov running over the scheduling on the way to the classroom. They would begin the day learning a bit about HYDRA and its cause, followed by history and literature. Then they would go to lunch before getting what Mister Ivanov described as exercise time. The day would end with math and science and they would be sent back to wherever it is they lived in the building with homework on what they’d learned that day. 

It seemed simple enough to Паук. All it was was a continuous schedule they would follow for the next year until it got moved around for combat and mission training, which apparently each agent started at the youngest age of eleven. Паук supposed he was technically not even a year old yet but had the same mindset as a typical ten year old human. And the same size.

“Хорошо, класс,” Mrs. Wagner stood, flattening out the wrinkles in her dress. Паук watched as she made her way to the chalkboard, and took notice of her sharp glare, and how the class immediately silenced as soon as she spoke. “I’m sure you’ve all taken notice of the new addition to our class today… Паук.” 

“Like the bug?” a girl whispered to the kid next to her. At this, Паук ducked his head down, staring at his hands.

“Precisely,” Mrs. Wagner said tightly. Паук wasn’t oblivious to the unkindness in her voice. “Agent Ivanov, his handler, made sure I warned you all that he is an enhanced individual. I, myself, had stated to you many times that enhanced individuals are not to be trusted, as I’m sure you have to. Паук is not our friend, but here as an asset so he can learn about HYDRA in order to become a better weapon–”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Wagner,” Harry stood from his seat. “But I believe, as I believe my father would, is that Паук should be treated equally to any other kid. He may not be human like us, and he may have the DNA of a spider, but he still deserves respect. The exact mistake we made with the Winter Soldier was not giving him a reason to be on our side, or the respect. And, with all due respect, I do not believe my dad would be very happy to hear how you’ve spoken of his most prized creation.”

Паук was shocked at these words, and clearly so was Mrs. Wagner. “N-no he would not. I apologize.”

“Thank you,” Harry nodded curtly before taking his seat once more. He grabbed his pencil and looked over at Паук with a kind smile.

Паук looked back at the boy beside him – Harry – and for the first time ever, the tingle at the back of his neck was replaced with a warm, comforting sensation.

–

Two weeks of classes passed and Паук had learned three notable things.

First, Norman Osborn wasn’t just any man – he was the leader of HYDRA. Apparently he had taken over for the leader before him shortly after Harry was born after having a position similar to Mister Ivanov’s. Not only that, but he was also credited for Паук’s creation, something the boy wasn’t sure he should thank or blame him for. 

Second, the Avengers were a disgrace and needed to be terminated. Паук had spent numerous mornings about Iron Man, Captain America, and Black Widow and how they wanted only cruel things for the world. HYDRA wanted peace and control, while the Avengers caused only destruction and chaos. They were the main energy and everything they did went into bringing them down.

Third, enhanced individuals – including Captain America, the Hulk, as well as Паук himself – were “scum”. This one hurt, but he supposed he couldn’t say they were wrong . Паук didn’t even know what the outside world was like so how could he tell the people who created him that they were lying? Паук wasn’t human, so he didn’t understand; he was an asset, a weapon at the disposal. He wanted peace for the world just as HYDRA did, so he supposed he just had to trust them and their ways.

Besides, the other kids in his class seemed to believe it. 

Паук sat his lunch tray down across from Harry, who was contently reading a book as he ate his soup. Harry had invited Паук to sit next to him a few days before after noticing him eating alone. This took him by surprise, but he opted not to question it. They were partners after all, as Mister Osborn had worded it.

“What book?” Паук asked shyly, swirling his spoon in his own spoon rather than eating it.

Harry looked up and swallowed, “It’s a thriller novel I got from the library. You can read it when I’m finished if you’d like. It’s really good, and reading in Russian will help you become more fluent.”

This caught Паук’s attention. He lowered his voice, speaking in English, “Library?” he asked. The russian word was vaguely familiar to him, but trying to pronounce it fell right off his tongue.

Harry raised a brow but nodded. “I thought you weren’t allowed to speak English.”

Ten words. Ten words. Ten words.

Harry wouldn’t tell Mister Ivanov – his father didn’t seem to mind him speaking English. Would he? Pushing that thought away, Паук switched back to Russian, “Sorry.”

Harry shook his head, “No, don’t apologize. Carter doesn’t need to know. Anyways, I can show you the library if you’d like. I’m just about done eating and you don’t seem to want yours, so we have time to go before math.”

“Okay, yeah,” Паук put on a strained smile, somewhat relieved.

The two boys gathered their things and headed towards the library. As Harry went on and on about how he was almost through all the books they had to offer, Паук made a mental map of the path to the library from the cafeteria. If there was one thing he learned about Harry, it was that he was quite the talker, and never ran out of things to say, much unlike Паук himself. And if Паук learned something about himself in his short time on earth, it was he was a learner. He knew what things were without even having to ask, he learned with ease, passing every other student in his class, even Harry, by a longshot. HYDRA must have wired him that way.

This epiphany made Паук wonder why HYDRA didn’t create him in a way he already knew Russian. Maybe it was Mister Ivanov’s idea; he did like to play mind games. 

But no – something was off. Паук felt as though he had a life before HYDRA. He had dreams of it; of a young Italian woman with long brown hair, and a man with a bright smile, who loved and cared for him. Dreams where the tingles on the back of his neck weren’t a problem. He’d never spoken of those dreams, or thought about them except for the brief moments after waking up. He needed to push those thoughts aside, because they were only a fantasy, and one he didn’t need to lose himself inside of. It wasn’t real, and if it was, that life was far behind him. He had a purpose now: to serve HYDRA. He should be happy with where he is now. After all, who cares about a stupid family when he could have this? A way to help the world have peace and order. Паук would be ungrateful to take that for granted.

Still, the idea was alluring. 

No. Паук reminded himself of the phrase he heard many times since being freed from the lab: Приветствую гидру.

Hail HYDRA.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked. Паук snapped out of his thoughts, looking over at the boy beside him. “Am I talking too much? My father says I tend to do that. I try not to, but I thought with your lack of talking it would evan things out. Oh. You must have a hard time keeping up. Should I switch to English?”

Паук laughed genuinely. “No. It’s okay. Understanding is easier than saying.”

Harry let out a puff of air, “Good. Let me show you the thriller section. It’s my favorite, but I think yours will be nonfiction, so I’ll take you there next.”

Harry took him through the thriller section, showing him all of his favorites and the ones he think Паук would like. Паук found himself genuinely wanting to read some of them, and picked one to check out. But Harry was right about the non-fiction, for he was breath taken.

He picked out some science books to check out, and a book on learning Russian. Similar books on German, Spanish, Italian, and others caught his attention as well. “Harry. Do you think I could learn more languages after Russian?”

Harry smirked in response, setting his books down in front of the librarian. “At the rate you're going, you could probably be fluent in ten languages by the time we finish all our training.”

“Challenge?” Паук asked, matching the other boy’s smirk. 

“I’ll join that challenge,” Harry smiled, “But I’ll give you a head start, cause I’m already fluent in Russian, English, and German.”

The two boys talked some more on the way to math class, and Паук found himself feeling more confident. He’d found a true friend in Harry, even when the other kids seemed to be wary of him. After so much torture and pain, Harry was the relief Паук had been looking for.

Паук and Harry reached the classroom, but just as they were about to enter, they were stopped.

“Паук, I need to speak to you,” Mister Ivanov grimly. Паук found his heart pounding again at the tall man’s stiff composure and his dark scowl. “Harry get to class, and let Mrs. Wagner know that he is with his handler .”

The emphasis on handler stung, leaving the reminder he was the only student with one. Harry glared at the man but nodded anyhow, opening the door with a reassuring smile directed towards Паук.

“Come, come,” Mister Ivanov waved his hand. Паук did just that, trying to match the man’s long strides with his short legs. After a long moment of silence, he spoke once more, “I saw you’ve made quite the friendship with Norman Osborn’s son this past week.”

“Yes, Mister Ivanov, sir,” Паук nodded.

Mister Ivanov rolled his eyes, “Would you stop with that? It’s unbelievingly formal.”

Паук promptly shut his mouth.

Ivanov continued, “I didn’t like it when Osborn put you in those classes, or how he’s forcing you onto his son. You don’t need to learn anything other than how to fight, kill, and go on missions. But he’s my boss, so I let it all slide.”

Паук sucked in a breath, because it was obvious a “but” was somewhere implied in those words.

“You’re getting attached,” Ivanov gritted out, “Forming a human bond. And that is something I will not tolerate. Do you realize, Паук, that you’ve already broken three of my rules? You broke the second one when you approached Harry yourself those few times. No speaking unless spoken to. You broke the fifth one: never think of yourself as human. And by breaking those two rules you broke the first one. Listen to what I say no matter what .”

For some reason, Паук didn’t find himself being scared. No, he was angry. “Mister Osborn said you should be honored to be given the role as my handler.” The words came out of his mouth before he truly thought them through.

Ivanov stopped in his tracks. “Excuse me?”

“I may not be human, but I’m human enough,” Паук narrowed his eyes, “Don’t tell me I’m not, because I act more human than you .”

Suddenly, he was being pinned against the wall. Паук gasped in pain as Ivanov grabbed at his jaw and jerked his head so that he was looking at him. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again, do you hear me? You are not human. You are a spider – a disgusting bug that Osborn forced onto me. And if you’re not going to show obedience that a creature like you should, I guess I’ll have to train you like the ugly mutt you are.”

Ten words. Ten words. Ten words.

Ivanov leaned in closer, spitting the first word at Паук’s face: “Каратель.” Punisher .

Something washed over Паук that made his body go weak. His head pounded and he felt a tiny part of him slip away. He cried, trying to reach for it, but it slipped out of his grasp.

Creature. Spider. Bug. Mutt. Weapon. Disgusting .

Chapter Text

I am sick of the chase

but I’m hungry for the blood

and there’s nothing I can do

– Killer

2012

The first time Паук was handed a gun, it wasn’t loaded, but it still heightened the all too familiar tingle on the back of his neck.

In the now one year Паук had been friends with Harry Osborn, the boy had brought up this very moment more times than Паук could count. The day Harry stood in front of his father, and Паук stood in front of his handler, and they were handed their first weapon. This meant that they were moving up in ranks. That they were excelling in their schoolwork. It was a gift, Harry would say.

So why did it feel more like a punishment?

That was a question Паук didn’t even bother answering; no answer would satisfy him.

“You two young boys will start your combat training this next Monday,” Mister Osborn said, wearing something almost like a smile. “And in two years time, you will be sent off on your very first mission.”

Паук eyed Ivanov, who looked down at him grimly. The boy stood tall, because he was. Паук had grown a lot in the last year, but he never was quite able to get past Harry. He wasn’t sure when exactly it happened, only that a few months ago his clothes stopped fitting. 

That was one change among many, another being his voice. Паук could now say he was fluent in Russian, and that Ivanov was more lenient on his no English rule, especially when Паук took on learning German and French at once. His voice also deepened slightly, adapting the accent everyone seemed to have, being more prominent in certain situations.

Паук had also moved rooms to a much nicer one near Harry’s, and was able to roam around freely in certain parts of the base, his favorite being the library. He found that following the rules and never complaining came with its advantages. It was clear Ivanov disliked him, and saw him as the mutt he truly was, but at least he respected him enough not to say the second or third or fourth of those ten words. That was an experience he certainly didn’t want to go through again, especially when even now, he could feel that missing portion of himself, no matter how little.

Now it was the gun, in his bigger, but still tiny, hands. It was as if it burned his flesh.

You were created from the DNA of a spider with the purpose to kill and serve.

The words Ivanov spoke when he was first freed from the lab rung in his mind. Паук had to listen. He had to put on a smile like Harry, and be proud of himself. The first rule was to always listen, and that’s just what he always did, and it wouldn’t change now. Паук was created to be a weapon; it would be a waste not to fulfill his purpose. Besides, like Harry and everyone else said: each life taken by him and any other agent was one step closer to world peace. It didn’t matter if he thought those two things conflicted with each other. 

More thoughts flooded in, but they weren’t his. He tried to block them off, and even if he found himself getting better at it everytime, he never was quite able to push them away…

He was a mutt – no he was Паук . But only a creature would be named after a spider. A mutt’s opinion didn’t matter. His instinct was to kill… but he doesn’t want to. None of this made sense! He needs to kill for peace. No. No, no, no, no… STOP !

“Is everything alright over there Паук?” Ivanov drawled slowly.

Паук’s head snapped in his handler’s direction. Ivanov’s line of sight was directed at his hands and the boy looked down to see that he was slowly pulling the trigger. Паук nearly dropped the gun, but remembered it wasn’t loaded. He looked back at Ivanov, who looked unimpressed. “I– Yes, sir. I’m perfectly okay.”

“Really?” Ivanov tilted his head. “You don’t seem very happy. You should be grateful. You went through a lot of work to get this. With the boss’s son, no less.”

Паук went red. “No, I am very grateful. I’ve been dreaming about this day for a year, and I can’t wait to go on my first mission,” he lied. Was it a lie? …Yes. Yes, it was.

His handler only scoffed, however, “Has anyone ever taught you patience, stupid boy?” Паук promptly shut his mouth, because nothing he could say would satisfy Ivanov. “Scram and go follow Harry like a lost pet. That’s what you are, hmm?” Ivanov smirked.

Паук decided not to let the comment get to him and instead nodded curtly, “Yes, Agent Ivanov. Приветствую гидру.” 

Hail HYDRA indeed.

–

Monday morning, before the sun even decided to rise, Паук sat underneath his covers with a flashlight in hand. Tons of books were spread out on the mattress before him, but they all went untouched, and Паук instead focused on the notebook he had obtained not too long ago.

He had yet to fill it halfway, but it was already full of many things. Sometimes he wrote passages neatly in the Russian alphabet, talking about various topics; mostly it involved the things going on in his distorted mind. Паук could tell when it had been a bad day just by looking at the words he chose to write, because they mostly didn’t make much sense. It also had sketches scribbled in ink of spiders, weapons, and various people and objects he’d taken notice of throughout the day.

Паук’s favorite thing to do in the notebook, however, consisted of both writing and drawing; it was many inventions he’d dreamed up out of boredom. It was mostly weapons, like advanced guns, bombs, and other deadly things. But nothing compared to the suit Паук wore in his dreams: a tightfitting spandex that allowed him to use his enhancements freely, with red and blue details and a pattern of webs running throughout the design. Паук would use it to save the day and fight crime; because that was his purpose, wasn’t it? To bring peace. 

“Time to get up, Asset Паук! NOW !” a guard called, banging on his door, causing the boy in question to spring out of bed in fear. That was what they called him when they wanted no fooling around or slacking off. And Паук really didn’t need to get another beatinging like last month, even if he healed fast.

“I’m up!” he called, running into the bathroom connected to his bedroom. Паук made himself more presentable than usual. Not only would he have schoolwork, but he was starting his training to become an agent, and even more than that, to reach his full potential as HYDRA’s best weapon. Паук put on his new uniform, which was all black, except for the green HYDRA symbol sitting on his heart. He then quickly slid on his combat boots, and shoved everything he needed into his bookbag, including a few books and his notebook. Паук hurried to head out the door to meet the two guards that awaited him.

“Quicker next time,” one spat, his finger set on his trigger just in case. They weren’t allowed to kill him, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t seriously injure him. And somehow that was worse. “Don’t make me tell Agent Ivanov that you are getting slower with each morning.”

Ten words. Ten Words. Ten words.

“Yes, sir. I apologize,” Паук said quickly, before following them to the classroom. That was another thing different for him: unless he was accompanied by a trusted person like one of the Osborn’s, he had to be surrounded by guards. Only at certain times of the day was he allowed to walk around by himself in limited areas. Паук would usually walk to class with Harry, but he was preparing for the day with Mister Osborn.

Паук didn’t quite understand the pang of jealousy that followed that thought.

The guards dropped him off at the door where Harry was waiting. The two boys greeted each other briefly before taking their seats. Class seemed to go on like normal; Mrs. Wagner made sure to torture him with rude comments directed at him as they discussed their current morning topic, enhanced individuals, and how disgusting they were. They were given work to do in their rooms, which was progressively getting harder, but still never seemed to challenge Паук. He and Harry ate lunch together, discussing the books they were reading and the languages they were studying together. 

Then stuck between lunch and math, replacing what used to be their normal exercise time was now combat training, much to Паук’s dismay. He questioned why exactly they were given no time to digest their food, but he supposed that under normal circumstances, as agents the only way they could get out of a mission was if they were on their deathbed

Combat training was exactly how Harry had described it. They started with a warm up, then various exercises to build up their strength in their arms, legs, and abs. If you fell or stopped you were scolded, and if you were Паук a guard would come up and tase you under Ivanov’s orders. Then they moved on to obstacle courses to test the class’s agility and stamina. And then came weapon training, where they learned to shoot guns, arrows, and other weapons correctly.

Four weeks passed of this, each class being slightly different, and Паук didn’t seem to make any progress.

Of course, that didn’t mean he was one of the strongest. In fact, he was one of the instructor, Auclair’s, favorites alongside Harry. Паук came with an advantage, and that was his powers: heightened senses, enhanced healing, super strength, and sticking to surfaces. The last two seemed to be the most useful, super strength helping him with weights and various exercises, and his stickiness helped him climb and have a better grip on things like pull ups. Auclair complimented him, asked him to demonstrate things, and even gave him some high fives. Паук quickly realized that besides Harry, Auclair was the only one to treat him like a human being… Even if he wasn’t.

But none of that mattered, because Ivanov wasn’t satisfied. And is Паук’s handler wasn’t satisfied, that meant his life would be living hell .

That’s why, within a month of training, Ivanov decided he would observe the one hour the class spent in the training room. Паук dreaded this, because Ivanov was never happy with anything, meaning no matter how hard he tried in class, it wouldn’t be good enough. Nothing ever was.

“On your left,” Harry said as he caught up to Паук. Today they were on the outside track for the first five minutes of class for their warm up. “So, what made Ivanov come to watch?”

Паук grunted. “Making sure I’m making progress. He said he’ll come everytime until I’ve proven myself because apparently I haven’t progressed enough. I just don’t get it; he’s so… fickle . I can never seem to get anything right with him. I’m not asking him to like me but he could at least respect me.”

“Own it.”

“What?” Паук narrowed his eyes. 

“Everything that’s making you upset,” Harry explained, “Just stick to what you want to do then; it doesn’t matter either way. He doesn’t respect you? Give him a reason to. You have enhancements like nobody has in this base, use that to your advantage. Use that to earn respect from not just him but everyone. And nothing you do is right? And Паук… I know you’re embarrassed about being the only person in this class with a handler, but it means more than you think it does. You have a handler because they fear what you could do if you were not contained. Ivanov fears what you could do. Use that against him. ”

“Huh,” Паук frowned. He never thought about it like that. Of course, he was wired to listen and follow orders, but there were always loopholes. Паук needed to earn respect, and the only way to do that was to own everything that was eating away at him. He needed to own Ivanov’s dislike towards him, and try to use that to his advantage. Not only that, but he needed to own it when anyone called him a mutt or an asset; that’s what he was, so why not be proud of it? Why not own every emotion beating though his artificial heart? He needed to let himself feel sadness, happiness, but most of all anger. 

That was it. Anger.

He’d been trying to force the thoughts implemented by the first of ten words with fear and grief. If Паук had learned anything valuable during his freedom from the lab it would be that fear and grief were the two weakest emotions. And anger… It was the strongest. 

“How’d you get so wise?” Паук raised a brow.

“My father’s been drilling it into me since I was a little boy,” Harry smirked. “Don’t worry: his wiseness will get to you one day.”

Паук could only hope.

The class was called back into the main training area to do fifty push ups, situps, and pullups before they headed over to the weights. Паук scanned the various weights all weighing different amounts. The strongest in his class, including Harry, could lift twenty-five pounds. Each age group in combat training, ranging from eleven to sixteen, each had an amount of pounds they were allowed depending on gender. For Паук’s age group the highest was fifty.

“Try one-hundred,” Auclair’s deep voice grunted. Паук looked at him with a frown, wondering if that was allowed. This wasn’t there first time speaking, in fact they spoke quite frequently, but Паук couldn’t help but be hesitant. “I’ve noticed that your enhancements are giving you too easy of a time. Am I right?”

Паук nodded. Own it. Say what you think. “Yes, sir. I enjoy your class, but I think it’s more meant for a typical kid. Which I’m not.”

Auclair didn’t seem to mind this comment. “Indeed, Паук. I wanted to move you up to take class with the fourteen year olds, but your handler wouldn’t allow it. It does interfere with your school schedule and it’s probably best if you stick with your partner. Which is why I want to make things harder for you in this class.”

Паук liked that idea. After all, the reason he wasn’t progressing was because he wasn’t given a real challenge.

“Now, let's try those one hundreds,” Auclair said, “I’ll spot you.”

Паук complied and got on the bench press. Auclaire set two fifties on either side and told him to start. The instructor was sure to keep his hands in a close distance in case Паук was to drop it, but it was still easy. So they added another hundred, and then another... Nothing challenged him. 

“Wow,” Auclair frowned, “One thousand pounds… and you’re lifting it like it’s nothing.  That’s some super strength you’ve got there, kid. You’ve never tested it?”

“Never had the chance. Or thought to,” Паук shook his head.

Auclair hummed thoughtfully. 

Паук looked over at Ivanov, who showed something that at least resembled satisfaction.

Well, that was something. 

“Alright, gather up everyone,” Auclair called. One every student stood in front of him, he continued, “For the last fifteen minutes of class we’re going to start something new. Physical fighting with an opponent. I want you to pair up with someone who isn’t your partner and who’s the same gender.”

Паук and Harry looked at each other with a frown. But he couldn’t help but feel relieved; Паук didn’t want to have to fight Harry, especially when he was yet to know his limits. So he opted to pair up with the next strongest kid: Vincent Odair. Vincent was on the bigger side and a scowl seemed to sit permanently on his face. Most of the kids liked to stay away from Паук, but Vincent didn’t seem scared to pick on him from time to time, even if Harry would immediately shut it down.

The two boys said nothing as they stepped in front of each other in their spots. Vincent was much taller and bigger than him, which he could tell Vincent saw as an advantage. Паук thought otherwise. Audair gave them a few instructions on how to slow down one’s opponent and the right positions and fighting techniques, as well as a few ground rules.

“Don’t hold back,” a voice said in his ear. Паук realized Ivanov was right beside him – close enough for the boy to pick his voice up with his heightened hearing, but far enough away for no one to hear him or for him to not get caught in the middle of a fight.

“Three…” Auclair started, “Two… One… GO!” 

  Don’t hold back.

Vincent threw the first punch, but Паук caught it easily. The other boy gasped in shock, and Паук squeezed the boys hand until he heard bones crunching. With his free hand he punched him in the stomach, in the jaw, in the nose, in the— Паук let go, guilt washing over him. Vincent looked up at him, trying to look angry, but the pain was too powerful. The boy charged at Паук, and he let him. It was only fair.

After all, the only thing stronger than anger was the consequences that came with it.

“STOP!” Ivanov roared, pulling Vincent off. “I told you not to hold back. You do not hold back — you will not do anything unless I say so.”

Паук could do nothing but hold the man’s gaze. As Ivanov made his way towards him, he could feel the murmurs and stares from his classmates. They already saw him as an animal. Now even more so. The embarrassment shreds at him, until he’s raw and exposed. Own it, he can almost hear Harry whisper. That’s all he could do.

Ivanov’s hand fisted at the front of Паук’s uniform, pulling him close. “Красный,” he whispered. Red.

He needed to fight it; he couldn’t let another piece of himself break down. Паук’s only advantage was his will to not listen. It couldn’t slip away. He recalled the idea of anger, and using it to push the artificial thoughts, and pull that piece of him back in. Паук shrunk to the ground and clenched his jaw. He thought of how angry he was at Ivanov, how angry he was that he was created in the first place. He held onto that anger and let out a scream of agony. Maybe he couldn’t get all of that piece of him back, but at least it would only be difficult not to follow orders and not impossible.

Паук’s head pounded and he fell limp on to the ground. The world spun around him and he grunted as he rolled into his back.

The world went dark.

2016

Паук held a gun, and it was loaded.

And this time, it shot to kill.

Chapter Text

So we spent what was left of our serotonin

To chew on our cheeks and stare at the moon

– Graceland Too

“You’re late , Tony.”

Those are the first words out of Pepper Potts’ mouth as her boyfriend sits down across from her, straightening out his tux. Tony looks at her guiltily, the sound of chattering people and silverware clinking against plates surrounding them in the crowded restaurant.

Tony can’t blame her; he has been fickle with her ever since he took on Peter’s case. He’s spent a month now researching and obsessing, while also juggling Avengers work on top of that, and hasn’t made enough time for Pepper. 

A handful of weeks have passed since Tony spoke to Ned; and all the billionaire has is Peter Parker’s connection with HYDRA, his enhancements and their connection to Oscorp, and a few photographs of a missing child tucked away safely in his wallet. And now an upset girlfriend to add to the mix.

Tony tries to form an apology but Pepper speaks again. “You’re obsessing,” she states bluntly, taking the man by surprise. “I don’t want to be harsh Tony… But we’ve made so much progress with your sleep habits and your mental health.”

“Pepper…”

“What I’m trying to say is I think you need to slow down,” Pepper sighs, “ Slow down, Tony, before you’re in too deep.”

Tony rubs his face with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. He always takes his girlfriend’s words into consideration. So why is it different this time?

Maybe it’s because the hole he’s dug for himself is already twenty feet deep.

–

Five hundred and twenty seven.

That’s the amount of deaths that are now staining Паук’s hands with a bright red. Five hundred and twenty seven lives lost, and it was all his fault. He was the one to pull the trigger, to stab them in the heart, to strangle them till their very last breath, all under HYDRA’s orders. Regret and remorse ate at the boy, like an out of control beast, and Паук let it. Because he deserves it.

Паук chews on the inside of his cheek, staring up at the glistening stars. He and Harry are now sitting on a roof in a crowded city somewhere a few kilometers away from their base. Harry turned sixteen just a week ago, his father leaving him with no celebration other than a new model of a deadly weapon, so the two boys took it upon themselves to celebrate themselves. It was irresponsible, sure, to bring a stolen bottle of alcohol to drink while they kept watch on their mission, but they did it anyway from time to time. Besides, it took some of the guilt away that seemed to linger after every kill.

That’s what you’re meant for , Паук repeats to himself. HYDRA is his home; it gave him life and nourished him. It’s his duty to return the favor, even if it meant shredding away at his innocence bit by bit.

“You know,” Harry starts, taking a swig at the bottle before handing it over to Паук, “On my tenth birthday my father told me he had a present for me, and that it was you… I didn’t really understand it at the time, but now I think I do.”

Паук is silent for a moment, his fingers drumming at the glass. He takes another bug sip, letting the buzzing sensation take him over. “What do you understand?” Паук whispers, looking over at the boy he calls his best friend. 

“Well, I thought he was just giving me a friend,” Harry elaborates, the Russian language slipping off his tongue right into Паук’s ears and understanding just like second nature, “And he did, but he also gave me a tool. For the longest time I thought you were just someone to talk to – to read books with. But then I saw you kill for the first time and I understood your purpose. You’ve helped me get far as an agent, and realize not only your purpose but mine… I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you.”

Паук doesn’t have it in himself to accept the thanks. Instead he feels as though his heart has dropped into his stomach. But why? Паук should be happy that his friend thinks he’s helped him. But he’s not a tool, Паук reminds himself.

Seven.

That’s how many words it’s taken for Паук to realize that HYDRA is his home. That HYDRA is the strong and powerful savior of mankind. Seven is also how many words it took for Паук to fully strengthen his mind and not let the words control him. Sure, he slips from time to time; forgetting who he is as a person and physically being unable to resist following commands. But he’s also been able to hold onto the parts of him that are supposed to be gone, preventing Паук from becoming the mindless drone Ivanov has told him he would be.

So it takes a moment for Паук to remind himself he’s more than just a tool. It takes him a moment to remind himself that Harry has changed in many ways. Not only has Harry formed much sharper features and a deeper voice, but he’s also become cold and arrogant. The Harry Паук one knew is still somewhere in there, covered up by the man his father wants him to be.

The thought of that leaves Паук feeling cold, despite the warm climate surrounding them.

“All clear,” Harry whispers, getting onto his feet. Паук nods and the two creep up onto the apartment complex they’ve been watching. Harry nods to the closest window, which is high up on the second floor, signaling Паук to climb up to it, using his enhancements. “You open it and get the door from me. It’s unlocked unlike the door so it’ll make less noise than breaking it down.”

Паук’s body moves before he tells it to, autopilot taking over. That’s the downside of alcohol: he loses control of his own will. He pops open the window in a quiet manner and slides inside the building. Using his spider sense, he observes the staircase before him, taking the steps that won’t creek beneath his weight. Паук reaches the door, letting Harry in.

They have to target: a man in his mid forties, who’s discovered a secret of HYDRA’s and is planning on selling them out, and his wife, who is also aware of his knowledge. It’s a recurring theme, Паук finds, in their missions. It always has to do with killing someone who knows something they shouldn’t or someone who worked for HYDRA but betrayed them. Any one that person tells, even something so little, is assassinated as well. The amount of people that fit that description adds up, but none of them seem to have been able to rat them out to the authorities. And that’s all because of Паук, who has now become HYDRA’s top assassin.

Some nights Паук revels in that title, and other nights he despises himself for it. Most nights he lets himself slip into nothingness.

Once they've successfully made it into the apartment belonging to the two targets, Harry leans close into his partner’s ear, whispering, “You kill, I wipe the place of any evidence.”

“Like always,” Паук mutters to himself.

Паук quietly makes his way to the bedroom, opening the door just fast enough to avoid making noise, but just slow enough not to create a breeze. The room is nice, if a bit dingy. It’s decent size with a large bed centered on the back wall, and decorations with a blue floral pattern overtaking every inch of furniture. Паук approaches the bed to find a woman sleeping soundly. His eyes travel to the other side, only to find it empty.

Паук ignores this however, and slowly pulls out his gun. He gently places it against the woman’s blonde hair, who’s eyes flutter for a mere second before shutting again. No amount of alcohol could prepare him for this. She’s only an innocent woman who happens to know something she shouldn’t because her husband was idiotic enough to tell her. She doesn’t deserve to die.

Паук doesn’t even know her name.

Closing his eyes, Паук takes a deep breath, placing his finger on the trigger. That’s when his spider sense begins to go off like a wildfire.

“If you shoot, I will blow the whole place up.”

Not moving the gun away from the woman’s head, Паук looks up. A man stands before him, holding a device with a big red button. A bomb is planted somewhere in the building, Паук realizes. The man, who was the one to find top secret information in the first place, is shaking, his breath uneven. 

Lie. Deceive. Stall.

Паук trains his face to resemble something dangerous and serious. He needs to scare this man with the hope that Harry will catch onto the situation and shoot him from behind before he decides to press the button. “Are you sure about that? It’ll kill you, me, and the rest of the people in this building. Don’t you think two deaths are less devastating than dozens?” 

“My wife is more important than the idiots I call my neighbors,” the man grunts, but Паук can tell he doesn’t mean it.

“Drop the device and I think we can make a deal,” Паук smirks, faux truth in every inch of his tone.

The man considers for a second, but sets the device on the dresser next to him. Паук takes this in and points his gun at the man and pulls the trigger. He falls to the floor, blood pooling around him.

Five hundred and twenty eight.

“One down, one to go,” Harry says, approaching the doorway. “Go on, get her.”

Паук nods and turns to the woman. But before he can place the gun back on her head, she sits up with the same device in hand; this has to have been their plan all along. They knew HYDRA agents were coming. How did Паук not see this coming. The alcohol must be messing with his spider sense.

“ NO !”

But the woman presses the red button and the whole world seems to explode around Паук.

Five hundred and twenty eight deaths.

Maybe now this is his.

–

Tony hasn’t slept in days. 

Insomnia eats away at him like an out of control beast, and he lets it. Because Tony needs to find this kid, and if that means countless hours in his lab deep diving into HYDRA and Oscorp, then so be it. Pepper makes her complaints, and Tony argues back. It’s an unsteady rhythm they’ve seemed to have fallen into, and that they can’t escape.

“What do you guys know about that explosion in Myshkin, Russia two months ago?” Tony finds himself asking the Avengers one night. The bunch is in the theater room, the end credits playing on the screen. It would be a nice, relaxing night if it weren’t for the undying thoughts of Peter Parker. He’s done his research and asked Fury about any updates on HYDRA. Apparently the apartment complex that blew up that’s been all over national television has some connections to HYDRA. Even if those connections weren’t entirely clear. The idea of it plagued his mind, even though the chances of it being directly connected to Peter are unlikely.

Once filled with talking and laughter, the room turns quiet, all heads looking at Tony. This is the first time he’s really spoken all night, he realizes briefly.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve frowns.

“Peter,” Tony waves his hand, “I talked to Fury a few days ago and he gave me some more details. I guess it wasn’t a gas leak like the news says but something to do with HYDRA. They found some evidence in there that can only lead to them. I guess it’s just been making me think of Peter and his connection to Ivanov and HYDRA.”

“And you’ve failed to mention this because…?”

“Well he hasn’t really had time to,” Sam says, not entirely unkindly, “Seeing as he’s skipped so many team bonding nights and spent meals in his lab.”

Tony groans, letting his head relax against the cushion, “You know what, forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s like this whole thing is eating you alive, Tony,” Bruce whispers, loud enough for all to hear, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Nodding his head, Tony forces a smile. “Just a lot on my mind. That’s all.”

Clint smiles, “Then I say we get it all off your mind for a little bit. Yeah?”

Everyone agrees. Including Tony. 

–

“Peter? Peter ! Buddy, where are you?”

Peter giggled climbing up the tree, his tiny hands grabbing onto the branches. In kindergarten, Peter had made a habit of climbing things. It was second nature almost; his grip steady and his arms strong enough to pull him up. He liked the accomplishment of making his way to the top and looking at the world in a new, higher perspective.

This tree however, standing in Centennial Park, was higher than the ones in the tiny playground back in Queens. That sent a larger sense of excitement through Peter when he made it to the top. He stood on a thick branch with a smile on his face. He looked around to see a blonde woman reading on a bench, and a family walking their two dogs.

“Look at me!” he told the voice that had called him, “I’m so high. Look!”

Peter looked down to see a man below him. The picture was blurry, moving around so that Peter was unable to make out his features or who he was. But he trusted the man and wanted him to see how he made it to the top.

“Peter! That’s so cool!” the man smiled back, “But get down before you get hurt. Okay?”

Listen. Comply. Obey.

Peter nodded and placed his foot on the lower branch. He slowly made his way to the bottom. But one wrong move and… SNAP !

The boy screamed out a name he couldn’t make out before he tumbled onto the green grass. A searing pain cut through Peter’s wrist and he sobbed, holding it close to his chest. His wrist was broken. Both were broken. Blood spilled out, followed by a white ooze that resembled a spider’s web. Peter yelled out in pain, calling for help.

No one came to rescue him.

–

Peter has made a name at HYDRA, but it’s a false one.

Паук is an assassin with over five hundred deaths on his hands. A prized possession of HYDRA; a weapon at their disposal. He is a strong willed boy with walls built up and a sharp tongue. Паук is resilient yet compliant, loud yet reserved with so many words to say that he keeps to himself. Peter is the whirlpool inside of Паук. He is the embodiment of the thoughts in Паук’s mind, of the words written in Russian inside his journal. Peter has had a life before HYDRA, and Паук simply was HYDRA.

It is all so confusing, Peter finds. Who is he? Who is the true enemy? Was there truth in any of the words said to him? It was only a dream; a young boy falling out of a tree, and a man calling out his name. But is he Peter or is that only a boy Паук made up in his head in the midst of pain and torture? He isn’t sure, but the dream was so vivid, pulling him into a twenty feet deep hole of questions and lies. Because he is Peter – he’s sure of it.

Those are the thoughts running through Peter’s mind as he’s wheeled out of the lab. It was the same lab he had been “created” in, and the same lab HYDRA had used as a punishment for the brutal injuries of Harry Osborn as opposed to the eighth, ninth, or tenth word. Peter is helped – no forced – out of the wheelchair once they approach a door that is all too familiar.

It’s a room made of metal and stone. The lights flickered above the teenage boy and the table they sat him at was rusted and bolted to the floor. Peter lets the men do as they pleased; letting them shove him down on the chair, ignoring his scrapes and bruises. He reminded himself not to fight back. It was routine.

Peter once again finds himself observing himself in the mirror in front of him. Since the first time he’s been in the room, he’s grown many inches. He never quite caught up to Harry, being shorter by two inches. Peter’s brunette hair is also more put together than before, even if still messy in certain aspects. The structure of his face is also more defined, a long scar running from his forehead, diagonally past his eyes and nose and towards his mouth. He’s grown into a young man without even realizing it, with a deeper voice that is now laced with a small, but very noticeable, russian accent.

He has so many questions on the tip of his tongue but no one to turn to. Peter knows who he is now, but who was he before ? Harry is still recovering in the hospital wing, so he can’t talk to him about it, and he isn’t sure if he can trust Norman. Not after all the lies.

“Agent Паук,” an unfamiliar voice says as the door creaks open. Peter looks up to see a middle aged woman with red hair slicked back into a bun, and sunken cheekbones. Her eyes are sharp and her posture stiff. She smiles at him, but it’s forced, “I’m Agent Dallen. I’ll be going over the details of your recent operations and how we’ll move on from here.”

“Where’s Ivanov?” Peter asks, not even attempting to leave the distaste out of his tone.

Peter doesn’t like Ivanov, but he likes the familiarity of him. Besides, he’s fallen into a steady rhythm with his handler, where they can both comfortably express their indifference for each other while also getting work done. He’s made Ivanov proud over the years, and intends to continue doing so. 

“Agent Ivanov is in a compromised position right now,” Dallen states vaguely, “And that’s no way to speak to your superior.”

Peter rolls his eyes. All these agents talk a big game about being above him and wanting respect, but when push comes to shove, he knows that they all fear him on some level. He could rip them to shreds if he pleased, after all, and Norman wouldn’t stop him. Peter’s done it before.

“As I’m sure you are partly aware, most of the procedures were done on your wrists,” Dallen begins, looking over her clipboard. Peter only nods, a shaky breath leaving his mouth. His hand instantly brushes over the bulging scars on his wrists, which still ache miserably. Dallen writes something down, her voice sounding once more, “Mister Norman Osborn instructed the surgeons to install a new enhancement into you that they’ve been looking over for quite some time. Seeing as you were already hospitalized from the bombing that happened a month ago, they thought it would be the perfect timing to add those enhancements.”

Peter narrows his eyes, “What enhancements exactly.?” he questions hesitantly. He remembers being torn apart over and over, and not only in his wrists. It was torture he never thought he would have to experience again after his “creation”, but here he is…

“Web fluid,” Dallen elaborates simply. “You are mostly spider DNA after all. Mister Osborn thought that in your future missions having such web fluid would come with its perks. Agent Ivanov thought it would help you stay away from that human mindset and fall into a more… spiderish one, if you will.”

Coldness washes over Peter once more. He does have spiderish tendencies, he knows that, but the way Ivanov speaks of it makes him want to puke. And that’s what this was. This wouldn’t be the last of their procedures. They will do more experiments; maybe give him a few extra legs or eyes if they’re feeling extra demented. Peter could behave as well as he wanted to, but they will continue to use the ten words until they reach the last one. Until he was nothing but a disgusting mutt nowhere near human that they could call their weapon. Паук is a tool.

But Peter won’t be, he promises himself. 

“As for the injuries you sustained a month ago in the bombing,” Dallen says, “Your healing factor kicked in quite nicely. Your concussion, broken ribs, and burns are all better, so there’s nothing to worry about there.”

Peter tries to find some relief in there, but it’s like a needle in a haystack.

Dallen sets the clipboard down and looks up at Peter, as is making sure he’s paying attention. She puts her bag on the table and pulls out a file. “Mister Osborn has a new mission for you. Now, you look that over – I’m sure it has all the information you need. Then get some sleep; you leave tomorrow morning.

Peter nods, pushing down the questions that begin to pile up. They never give him files or any information other than a picture and a location, and if he’s lucky, a brief explanation on why he’s killing that person.

Taking a deep breath, Peter opens the file. He scans over the information given to him, like how this target is all the way in America, how she’s a nurse, and that she lives all alone. When it comes to reasoning it’s simply printed out that she’s a threat against HYDRA in a small manner. Then he looks over at the name.

May Parker.

–

May Parker enters her apartment after a long shift at the hospital and flops directly onto her couch. The space is eerily quiet as always, if not for the sounds of the city muffled by her window. It’s a lonely place to live, but May supposes any place would be when you live alone. 

She makes herself a microwave dinner and sits at the tiny dining room table, her laptop open in front of her. That’s when her phone rings. May picks it up and upon seeing Tony Stark’s name pop up, she quickly answers it.

“May, I’m sorry,” Tony slurs instantly after she picks up.

Dread washes over her. Did her sweet Peter die all those years ago? Was all this work to find him for nothing. “Tony, what’s going on?”

“I’m going to be honest, I’m very drunk right now,” Tony says, “I’m supposed to be distracting myself right now. My friends thought we could party it up and I could forget all the pressure…

“Point is, I’m not forgetting,” Tony whispers. “I’m sorry. I tried. But I… I don’t think I’m going to be able to find Peter. It’s just not possible. Those police were right.”

May doesn’t respond, but simply hangs up.

Pushing her food away, May goes into her bed and weeps.

Chapter Text

The future's unwritten, the past is a corridor

I'm at the exit, lookin' back through the hall

– Smoke Signals

The dreams continue to flood like a pond in the pouring rain.

They’re all blurry, never able to make a clear, full picture that makes sense. But they’re there. Peter dreams of a bustling city that never sleeps. He can only identify it as New York City, a place he’s never been during his six years at HYDRA, but still feels so familiar. He also dreams of two other kids, whose faces are smudged away with the strokes of a paint brush. They don’t have names, nor do they talk, yet Peter wants to cry with happiness everytime he sees them.

Peter knows deep down it’s all real. Паук was only a name HYDRA gave him to stray him away from his true identity. Because Peter had a life before HYDRA, even if all he really knows is his first name and the city he lived in. His life was not Norman Osborn’s idea; only his purpose was.

Most of all, Peter tells himself, he’s human . Or at least he was, before Osborn had torn him to pieces, and built him back together into something that could only be described as a mutt – as a weapon. But Peter won’t let Norman Osborn and his messed up, lying organization win. Peter won’t let them use him to their advantage, or let himself be a part of this cause that never wanted peace for the world, but destruction and chaos.

That’s why when packing his bag for the mission, Peter goes beyond putting his tools and devices he typically took on missions. He starts off with some extra clothes, as well as snacks and bottles of water he stashed in his bottom drawer. Peter then goes over to his bookshelf and picks out his favorite books that he’s read over and over to the point they are a bit worn out. They were in all different kinds of languages, and different genres spanning from fiction to non-fiction. Then, Peter packs his most prized possessions of all: his journals. There are fifteen of them, all made with black, leather covers and thick pages. If Peter could thank anything for his ability to control his mind, it was these journals. When he feels himself slipping away, he simply reads a few pages until he gains back his sense of self.

Sure, the duffel bag is almost bursting at the seams, and the guards that escort him to the jet might look at him weirdly. But Peter packs it all anyway, forcing the zipper to shut all the way. Because Peter is going to run away, and he can’t bear to part with some of these things, the others being a necessity. Peter is going to get on the jet, fly to New York, and make his own life there.

Throwing his bag onto his bed, Peter sighs and rubs at his temples. He’s not going to doubt himself, nor is he going to let the seven words eating away at his conscience stop him from carrying this plan out.

The guards will come soon, he thinks to himself. Peter looks around his tiny, dull room one more time. He inspects the cracks in the walls, the flickering lamp beside his bed, and the bookcase that is so close to caving into itself. He looks at the corner of the ceiling, where he hid himself away when his thoughts got dark. Peter thinks about the spiders roaming around the base, that all seem to come to him like the polar side of a magnet. Only they’re not polar opposites at all; they understand each other. They share the same DNA.

Peter blinks the thoughts away because that’s only Ivanov talking. Despite his handler being awol for the last month, he still seems to plague Peter’s mind. And the boy hates Ivanov for that with every fiber of his being. 

Peter’s eyes roam through the remaining parts of his room before his eyes land on the dresser. The file Dallen gave him yesterday stares right back at him and he sucks in his breath. Peter stands up and walks over to him, picking it up. He opens it and he looks over it once more. 

He can’t go to New York.

And as much as Peter hates it, that decision is final. This woman – May Parker – lives there. He doesn’t want to kill her. He can’t. Peter is unsure why; he's never had a problem with taking a stranger’s life before, aside from the guilt that seems to linger. And that’s what May Parker is: a stranger . But Peter knows if he goes to New York, he won’t be able to stop himself from following Dallen’s orders and killing her. If he does that, he knows that for some unknown reason, won’t be able to live with himself.

“Паук!” a guard calls, his voice deep, “It’s time to head to the jet.”

Peter shoves the file into the side pocket of his bag and swings it over his shoulder, ignoring how webs start to leak from his wrists and last onto the paper.  This is it , Peter tells himself. He looks back at Harry’s room, where he is supposed to be transferred back to sometime today from the hospital wing. Peter didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, but he supposes it’s better off that way.

The boy follows the guards down the hallway and outside towards the jet. Peter steps in, and once the guards are sure he’s securely in the jet, they make their way back to the building. The pilot looks back at him, tilting his sunglasses so that he can clearly see that the asset is on board, before closing and locking the door that separates them.

Peter takes that as his cue to carefully open the window, letting the breeze mess with his hair as the jet took off. They flew over a forest that stretched for miles, and once they were far away from the base that it was only a tiny speck in Peter’s enhanced vision, he used his stickiness to climb on the side of the jet. Peter flips around so that his back is pressed against the white metal with his bag held close to his chest, and observes his surroundings. He takes a deep breath and the boy prepares himself before he lets go and leaps to the nearest tree.

Grabbing onto the wood of the tree, Peter steadies himself and sits down on a large, steady branch. Momentarily, Peter remembers the dream that occurred after the explosion. He’s doing something the younger, innocent version of himself once enjoyed, and now it only feels bleak. But that doesn’t matter right now, Peter reminds himself.

He successfully made it out of the base and they wouldn’t know of his disappearance until the jet landed in New York. That gave Peter a few hours to get as far away as possible and find a safe place to hide.

Carefully, Peter makes his way down to the ground and he runs.

–

Pepper is not happy.

Tony mulls that over in his head a few times as he leans over a toilet, puking his guts out. Pepper rubs at his back with one hand, the other running through his hair. He subconsciously reaches out for her as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, searching for her comfort.

“Oh, sweetie,” Pepper whispers, pulling his head to her chest. Her voice is a lot calmer than it was when she found Tony curled up on the couch in the living room the previous night and screamed at the other Avengers for letting him drink. Tony can’t find it in himself to feel bad for his friends, nor can he find it in himself to feel guilty for the alcohol.

Tony can, however, feel the guilt that seems to have lingered after the phone call with May. He’d disappointed her – he’d let her down. But it’s all too much; Tony isn’t the one that can find Peter. No matter how much he wants to be.

Pepper presses a glass of water to his lips and he takes a careful sip. “I failed her, Pep,” Tony whispers, his voice rough. “I failed Peter .”

With the shake of her head, Pepper cups Tony’s cheek with her hand, “Tony, sweetheart, I know things didn’t turn out how you wanted. I wish you could have found him, too… But you tried, okay? You could have turned her down the second she asked, but you didn’t. That’s all that matters.”

“But if I go farther I could–”

“No, Tony,” Pepper says gently. “Can’t you see how it’s been eating at you this past month? It… It reminded me of how bad things were back when Ultron happened. And then I come home and find you drinking and I just can’t do that all again. Not when you’ve gotten so far.”

That stung a little bit, but Tony understands. “I was almost a year sober. I’m sorry I ruined it.”

“No apologizing, Tony,” Pepper presses a finger against her boyfriend’s lips. “In one year from now you will be. Then two, then three, then – well, you get my point.”

Tony cracks a smile. “God, what would I do without you?” he finds himself asking.

Pepper simply shakes her head with a comforting smile. Tony is sure neither of them really want to know that answer. Then her eyes flicker to his.

 “You would forget the other eight digits to your social security number, I’m sure,” Pepper teases. 

Tony smirks before softly retorting, “That’s why I’ve got you.”

–

Peter’s curly, brown hair falls in front of his face, soaked from the droplets of rain.

He looks up at the sky, gray and clouded, and takes it all in. It’s not that Peter hasn’t seen rain before, but it was rare. And when he did, he never got the chance to enjoy it. So as the nearest town comes into view, Peter takes a moment to find shelter in an alleyway and watch the rain from a far, staying untouched. 

Peter shivers, holding the bag closer to himself. He unzips it slightly, as if making sure nothing had fallen out on his long journey.

Three hours. That’s how long the boy can only estimate he’d walked. Peter’s muscles begin to feel weak and his stomach groans with hunger. His eyes drooped and his breath is shaky. The boy stands up, ignoring the weakness in his legs. Carefully he starts  climbing up the brick wall and starts creating a bed out of webs just above a dumpster. The spider webs smoothly come out of Peter’s wrists, creating a comfortable spot for him to sleep, high up enough to not get attacked in his sleep.

Slowly laying down, Peter closes his eyes and lets sleep take over.

–

A week later, Peter is sure he’s made a name for himself throughout the many towns of Russia.

If HYDRA taught him anything, it would be how not to get caught. And with the right technique, stealing is effortless. Peter has stolen many things; bread, bottled water, blankets, and coats. It’s only necessary items, the boy tells himself, and he’s not exactly proud of his actions. Yet he can’t help but find the process of his somewhat amusing – like the looks on the workers faces when they realize something has been stolen right under their nose. Besides, it’s not like he’s killing anyone. Not anymore.

So if he also steals a few books or even a few wallets… Well, no one has to know about that.

Peter takes the last sip of water before crumling the plastic bottle into a ball in his fist. He pulls his hood on and starts walking down the busy streets of Moscow. A fresh slate is what he needs, because while he’s never got caught stealing, that doesn't mean the places he’s made his way through never caught onto the fact a new thief has made their way into town. So that’s what Moscow is, a new slate; a large city which is already subjected to so much thievery that his presence will go straight over their heads. 

The boy knocks into a man, and apologizes – all while carefully taking his wallet out of his back pocket. The man only smiles, shaking his head, so Peter takes that as his que to continue his way down the street and pull on his hood even more. He looks around, reminding himself to stay alert for any HYDRA agents that might be sneaking around. They have to know by now that Паук is missing, and could track him down any day now.

Peter stops at the nearest supermarket and stands just outside the building. He pulls out the wallet and disregards all the cards and pictures tucked away, going straight for the cash. When he’s met with a decent amount, Peter decides to walk in and grab a large loaf of bread and a few pieces of fruit and a few more bottles of water.

“Триста руб,” the cashier tells him. Peter nods and hands him the amount of money, ignoring how the back of his neck seems to tingle uncomfortably. He grabs the bags and starts to walk out, but the sound of the cashier’s voice stops him, “Приветствую Гидру.”

Peter freezes.

Hail HYDRA , is what the cashier just said.

The boy quickens his pace and practically flies out of the market. His breath heavy, Peter frantically runs his way through the crowd. The cashier – no the HYDRA agent –  chased after him. The people in the crowd freak out at this, portraying looks on their faces that match how the Паук – Peter , his name his Peter – feels on the inside.

It’s as though the words Приветствую Гидру triggered something in Peter’s brain. Something he has been trying to push away ever since he had the dream of him in the tree. Peter finds his body wanting to stop or let the agent catch him. But he fights through it, running even faster, even if it almost feels like he’s running through water.

Peter doesn’t notice he’s hit a dead end until he runs right into a gate. He turns his head back to see the HYDRA agent catching up to him. Securing his bag around him, Peter grabs onto the gate, using both his strength and stickiness to climb up it.

“Паук, don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be,” the agent yells at him, “Come with me now and your punishment will lessen. Either way, you’re trapped.”

Peter doesn’t respond, but rests his forehead on the metal of the gates and just tries to breathe . Deciding it’s best to just wait him out where the agent can’t reach him, Peter settles himself more comfortably onto the gate, gazing at the setting sun.

“Паук, this is your last chance.”

Peter stays still. But a war goes on in his head. One one hand, he feels it’s better to just listen. In fact, it physically hurts not to listen. But on the other hand, listening only led to worse things. To have more blood on his hands and more experiments on his body. 

But Peter doesn’t have to climb down anymore, because the agent begins to pull himself up onto the gate. Peter can only curl into himself, not having the strength to jump onto the other side and run. This is it, Peter thinks to himself, this is the end. He’s going to be Паук again. And maybe it’s better off that way.

But just as the agent is about to grab his leg, a shot sounds.

The HYDRA agent falls onto the ground with a thump and Peter lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He looks into the distance to find a man with a gun. Peter can’t quite make out the features of the man’s face, but he can see he had a large figure, as well as a beard. But then the man steps into the light and he recognizes him instantly.

“Auclair,” Peter breathes, “Osborn told me you were dead.”

The former combat trainer only smirks, “That’s what he thinks, Паук. Yet here I am.”

Peter drops to the ground, straightening himself out. “Peter. I go by Peter now.”

“You remember?”

Peter swallows, slowly nodding. “Somewhat; it’s all kind of vague. I went on a mission and something happened. Hit my head pretty badly… and then the dreams started coming. They lied to me, Auclair, and I didn’t know what to do with that. So I ran.” Peter pauses for a moment, before asking a question he isn’t sure he wants the answer to, “You knew?”

“Look, kid,” Auclair sighs, “I’m not proud of anything I did over at HYDRA. That’s why I left. I mean, god, I was training young kids to kill and harm people. I didn’t know that you were a kidnapped kid until two years after we met. And I was never supposed to. Which is why they terminated me.”

“But you got away.”

“Yeah. I got away,” the man confirms. The two stand in silence for a moment before he speaks again, “What exactly do you remember?”

Peter thinks about it for a moment. “I guess it's really just my name that I remember. There’s also people who cared for me I think. But I don’t know their faces or their names. Just their voices. I can’t help but hope maybe there’s somewhat out there searching for me. I can almost feel it.”

“I’m sure they are, Peter,” Auclair says reassuringly. But he doesn’t seem to believe it. Not that Peter fully believes it himself. As if to make up for it, he continues, “I have a place you can stay for as long as you need, you know. I’m always aware when HYDRA agents are in the city and know how to deal with them. You’d be safer with me.”

Peter considers Auclair’s words for a moment. He could go on how he is; moving from city to city, stealing and creating beds out of webs. Or he could settle down and not worry about agents following him around. Peter finds himself nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d actually be great. Thanks, Auclair. You know, for helping me.”

“Of course. And call me Robert, kid.”

–

Tony bites his lip as he carefully tinkers at his latest project.

Back in Black is bursting through the speaker and he hums along, telling Dum-E to hand him a screwdriver. The robot chirps and tosses it to him, tilting his head when Tony yelps as the screwdriver hits him right in the chest. The AC/DC song fades out and the billionaire realizes he’s hit the end of his playlist.

“FRIDAY, play the top trending song,” Tony says thoughtfully. He’s unsure of what that song is, but is curious.

“On it, boss,” FRIDAY instantly responds, “Playing Blank Space by Taylor Swift.”

Tony freezes.

Nice to meet you, where you been?

I could show you incredible things…

Magic, madness, heaven, sin. 

“ Pete was a Taylor Swift fan, you know ,” Ned had told him when Tony went over to his apartment. “ I think 1989 would be his favorite if he he’d been around to witness it .”

Tony stands up slowly, walking over to the bulletin board. He’d put something up there to cover his work, but easily, he tears it down. All the pictures of Peter Parker and the evidence stare back at him accusingly. Two weeks have passed since he gave up. But now…

No. It’s final: Tony is going to find this kid.

Chapter Text

Anyway, don’t be a stranger

Anyway, don’t be a stranger

Don’t be a stranger

– Scott Street

Robert Auclair’s apartment is only a few blocks away from where he saved Peter from the HYDRA agent.

The place is crowded with three other men – who are apparently Rober’s childhood friends – the place just barely fitting all five of them. There’s Dominik, who has a problem with gambling; there’s Aleksei, who is very quiet but somehow still expressive of his feelings(mostly anger); and there’s Barry, who sleeps a lot. Then of course, there’s Robert. With all these big, burly men, the place reeks of beer and smoke. But none of them seems to mind when Peter takes one from the fridge, or grabs a cigarette from their packs. So Peter doesn’t mind. Besides, this place is probably the closest thing to home that the ex-assassin will ever get.

Robert has been kind to him. He gave him a home, first of all, saving Peter from spending the rest of his days on the streets. Robert feeds him, and asks him how he’s doing. He even always seems to have spare change for Peter to spend when he goes into town as well as clothes deemed normal to society. Peter finds himself becoming attached, almost like he’d been with Harry. And it scares the boy. Because one small hit, and this whole situation could come tumbling down into nothing. That’s why he never takes anyone’s offers of bonding, why he eats his meals in his room, and why he refuses to unpack his bag.

Sun peeks through the curtains in Peter’s room and he wakes up with a groan. It’s been two weeks in this place and Peter has already managed to find a routine. Wake up, get coffee and breakfast, talk to the guys, go into town to do only god knows what, come back for dinner, sleep, and repeat. Those steps play on repeat in Peter’s mind, and he even takes it upon himself to write them in bullet points in his journal. 

With this in mind, Peter slowly gets out of bed and gets dressed. He heads to the bathroom and lazily puts toothpaste on his toothbrush, refusing to look up into the mirror. Peter reflects this to be a habit. It was rare to see his reflection back in the HYDRA base, and he’s grown used to not exactly knowing what he looks like. It’s comforting almost. Because when he does look in the mirror, all he can see are the large scars and the bags under his lifeless eyes. Peter decides it’s for the best not to look. 

Peter turns off the faucet and goes back to his room, taking the bookbag Dominik lent to him in order to gather the things he’ll need for the day. That being his current journal, two books, a Walkman, and some money. 

“Доброе утро, Питер,” Robert greets him when the boy steps into the kitchen. The man was grabbing some frozen waffles from the freezer and putting them in the toaster. He pours two mugs of coffee and hands one to Peter. The teen thanks him awkwardly, looking over at the table to see Dominik and Aleksei talking. Really, the whole situation is too domestic for Peter’s taste. And yet not really domestic at all. “You can eat with me in the living room.”

Peter hesitates but follows him nonetheless. He sits on the lumpy couch, one cushion away from Robert, with his plate on his lap. “I’m going in town again,” Peter informs the man as he turns on the TV. “I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Sounds good,” Robert nods, switching the channels until it settles on the news. A man appears on screen, speaking in Russian. Peter chews on his waffles, listening curiously. The boy, while full of knowledge, doesn’t know much of what’s going on in the world. History is Peter’s worst subject, unless you ask him about the history of HYDRA.

“ According to recent reports, Tony Stark has been recently spotted in a restaurant with Pepper Potts after not making a public appearance in weeks ,” the reporter says, “ Some believe he is falling into another depressive episode and fear what that will mean for Stark Industries and more so: the world .”

“Iron Man?” Peter wonders aloud. “Is he what HYDRA says he is?”

“Not entirely,” Robert answers. “Stark has done some bad things in his time, but I also believe he’s helped the world in many ways. He fights for the world everyday, and supplies tech for foreign countries; not just the States. And the Avengers – they’re all the good HYDRA claims to be.”

Peter considers this. God, everything he’s been told is so contradicting. Who is he supposed to believe? Robert is the clear answer, yet with the way Паук has been wired to think, it just feels wrong. The Avengers need to be terminated. But so does HYDRA. Peters shoves the last bite of waffles into his mouth and takes one more sip of coffee.

He leaves with only a simple goodbye.

–

Rain lingers for an hour or so, but the sun shines again.

Peter turns on his Walkman, letting unfamiliar music flow into his ears. He found it in a dumpster a week back, and Robert had just the right tools to let Peter figure out how to repair it, despite the man’s lack of knowledge in mechanics. It’s the first thing the boy has ever got to get his hands dirty with, fixing it himself instead of simply reading about fixing things. Peter can’t help but feel proud of himself, especially when Robert gives him some old cassette tapes to use with it.

Peter looks down at the money Robert gave him this morning, and decides to buy his own cassette tapes.

There’s a music shop that’s caught the boy’s eye a few times, and he goes on autopilot, avoiding the gazes of others as he passes people by. The shop is almost quiet, Peter finds as he pulls down the headphones, except for the quiet lull of music playing from the ceiling. He goes to the cassette tape section and looks at the different soundtracks. There’s a section of music in English and he picks one up that says Queen .

“Good choice; not many appreciate them as much as they should anymore,” a voice says in English. Peter looks up to see a girl slightly taller than him, with curly brown hair and a small smirk on her face. She tilts her head when he doesn’t respond she says, “Извини–”

“I speak English,” Peter informs her quickly. He takes note of how her accent is like Peter’s once was before his voice matched up to those around him. She must be from the states. “But I, uh, I’ve never heard of them. I actually don’t know a lot about music.”

“Well, I can teach you then,” the girl says, “I happen to know a lot about music… I’m Michelle, by the way. Michelle Jones.”

Michelle extends out her hand, and Peter looks down at it startled. “Parker,” he blurts out, taking her hand, “...Parker Auclair.” It’s the first name that comes to mind. For a moment, he questions why he didn’t just tell her the truth. He isn’t sure of his last name, but he does know he’s Peter. But then again, HYDRA most likely knows both, and it’s best to keep his name from spreading around into the agents’ ears.

“Parker,” Michelle whispers, an odd look on her face as her eyes flicker across his face – she’s probably taking notice of the ugly scars, Peter tells himself. She then shakes her head and goes back to normal. Michelle takes him by the hand and drags him around the music store, showing him all her favorite artists and albums. Watching her talk so passionately is entrancing, Peter finds, and he finds himself weirdly drawn to Michelle. 

That’s the start of Peter’s first friendship outside of HYDRA. He’s sure he had some… before . But he thinks it is best not to think about that. He also thinks it’s best not to dwell on Harry and his recovery and his own guilt for leaving him. For leaving HYDRA.

He learns quite a bit about Michelle. Like how she’s been on vacation here in Moscow all summer to visit her step-father’s parents, and how she’s leaving to go home in a week. Peter learns she spends most of this summer vacation sight-seeing and walking around on her own rather than spending time with her family. He also learns she has a dark humor, dull sense of life, and a quick wit. “If you expect disappointment, you can’t ever get disappointed,” she told him one time when they got coffee together.

Peter tells her a story he wishes to be true. He tells her he grew up in Moscow with his Uncle Robert and focused mostly on his schoolwork, hoping to be some sort of scientist one day. He tries to keep his distance, he really does; creating a friendship is just one more weakness that will get him caught. But Michelle always asks him to hang out the following day, and he always accepts the offer. Peter thinks it's because Michelle doesn’t give him that weird tingle on the back of his neck, but a feeling of warmth and familiarity he can’t quite describe.

But he is a liar. Peter lets Michelle see an awkward kind boy, when he is really a HYDRA assassin who could kill anyone with his bare hands if he so pleased. And he does, for it is wired in his brain and injected into his bloodstream to want the sensation of ripping the life out of another’s body. Peter’s not human, after all, he reminds himself. He’s gotten so used to lying and tricking others that it’s become a second nature, and one that is out of his control.

Peter thinks this all over, watching Michelle draw in her sketchbook a few days after they met. They sit on a bench in the small park, the sun shining over them and a slight breeze tugging at their hair. Michelle is so concentrated; drawing then erasing, drawing then erasing, drawing then…

She looks up at him with a smile, “You haven’t turned that page in the last ten minutes, Parker,” Michelle points out. She doesn’t seem mad, just surprised.

Peter laughs, “I just love how concentrated you get. Does anyone tell you how to bite at your lip and furrow your eyebrows? It’s…” he trails off, unable to find the word he’s looking for. 

“Cute?” Michelle says for him, her tone teasing. When Peter turns red and looks away, she laughs, “You are cute. Look.”

And Peter does, finding Michelle turning the paper so he can see. It’s a drawing of him in such precise detail that it takes his breath away. Peter has always prided himself in his ability to draw, but this… It was– “ Wow ,” Peter breathes, taking the sketchbook from her. He traces his fingers down on the scars that portrayed his own, and he looks up at her.

“Don’t,” Michelle says flatly, as if reading his mind, “Your scars; I don’t know how you got them, and I don’t expect you to tell me. But, I think they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Now, right at this moment, Peter wants to tell her the truth. He wants to tell her how he’s been a HYDRA experiment for the past six years, and a fully trained assassin for four of those years. Peter wants to tell her how he ran away and wants to right his wrongs and have a better life. But Michelle would probably look at him with fear and run away. “I…” Peter begins, the truth right there on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to spill out.

But Michelle presses her finger to his mouth and it all goes right back down the drain. She tears the drawing out of her sketchbook and hands it to him.  “Keep it, Parker,” Michelle says, putting her stuff back in her bag. Peter does the same, protectively tucking the paper in between pages of his notebook. “Let's head back; the sun’s setting.”

Peter nods. Robert will begin to worry if he doesn’t come home soon, so he decides it’s best to follow her. Michelle’s place is on the way to his so he tells her he’ll drop her off before heading home. The two walk down the less filled streets and fool around, laughing and joking around. Peter almost feels like a normal kid for once, and it’s a dangerous feeling, pulling him too far away from reality.

A sensation tingles down his spine, pulling him back to reality, and alerting him of danger. Peter looks around to see two men with hoods in front of them. Sucking in a breath, Peter leans close to Michelle, “Stick close to me, okay? Start walking faster,” he whispers in her ears. He needs to get her home, and then he can deal with the HYDRA agents.

Michelle seems confused, but her eyes flicker in the direction of the two men, and she nods slightly. Their shoulders brush against each other, and their steps are quick and long. The men begin to pass them, and one begins to charge. 

Suddenly, Michelle’s bag is ripped from her and the two begin to run. Peter narrows his eyes, why would the HYDRA agent steal her bag? Why aren’t they going for him? Maybe they know he’ll run after them and they’ll trap him. Peter ignores that, because he needs to get Michelle’s bag back. “Stay right here, okay? I’ll go get it,” Peter tells her.

“Wait, Parker!” Michelle protests, but Peter’s already sprinting towards them. 

Peter tackles the man with Michelle’s bag onto the ground. He punches and punches, easily taking the other as well when he tries to fight him off. Peter reminds himself of everything Robert taught him and everything he’s learned from missions. He reminds himself that if he really wants to, Паук could kill both these grown men at the same time with nothing but his bare hands right now. He decides against that for now. Паук… Peter finds himself losing his sense of self for a moment.

Then he notices the scared looks on their faces, bloody and bruised, and he snaps out of it. They aren’t HYDRA agents, and they aren’t after him. They are simply muggers, stealing to live. Just like Peter once was. Guilt washes over him, and he lets them go. Peter grabs Michelle’s bag and stumbles to his feet. He turns around to see his friend walking towards him slowly, and he gives it to her. Then they head home.

He’s not even surprised when Michelle doesn’t show up to their usual spot the next day.

–

The Avengers apologize to Tony profusely, and the billionaire only tells them it isn’t necessary. None of them knew about the extent of Tony’s drinking problems except for Rhodey, who was on a mission as colonel when they all thought it was a good idea to all get drunk. Not even Bruce knew. And that’s on Tony, he tells himself.

They all go back to normal, keeping the same weekly bonding schedule as they always did. Tony goes back to holding himself back up in his lab and letting insomnia creep back into his bones. Maybe the normal they’ve gone back to is too normal Tony thinks as he steps out of the elevator.

The smell of pancakes fills the man’s nose and when he makes it to the kitchen, he’s met with all the other Avengers chatting and moving around. Heads turn and they all greet him, Sam smiling as he hands him a plate of food. 

“Well, you’re all chipper this morning,” Tony points out with a grumble, pouring coffee into his mug. He eyes Natasha suspiciously because even she seems all smiley. 

“Tony, it’s one year of us actually being a team,” Rhodey says, “You six original Avengers finally got all your shit together and Sam, Bucky, and I joined. I think we should celebrate that.”

Tony frowns, “Six?” he questions.

“Starkson!” Thor’s booming voice comes from the doorway, “Man of iron! How long it’s been. I’ve heard all about your adventures of helping find that young boy. How’s that going?”

Tony turns to the other Avengers who look guilty and apologetic. Right. They don’t know that he decided against giving up. Tony stands up, taking a sip of his coffee, “Actually pretty well. I’ve got a new strategy,” he says, ignoring the surprised looks. 

Thor wishes him well on his journey(as the Asgardian puts it) and Tony takes a seat across from Steve who offers him the syrup. “I’m proud of you, Tony. We were all a bit surprised when you said you were giving up; but I knew it was only a fluke. You’ll avenge him – I know it.”

Tony shakes his head. “I won’t stop until I find him. But if he’s dead… Can I really avenge him?”

“Of course you can,” Steve promises, “You said it’s all pointing to HYDRA, right? Well, our main goal as a team right now is to take them down. And if we do that, whether Peter’s dead or not, you will avenge him. And we’ll avenge Bucky as well.”

Tony considers this. Maybe Steve is right. Of course, Tony wishes more than anything that Peter isn’t dead, for the sake of him and May. But if he is , he’ll do anything to get revenge on whoever killed him. “Thanks, Cap.”

“Of course,” Steve smiles. He takes a bite of food, clearly in thought, as if considering something himself. “I just wanted to tell you, I kissed Bucky and we’ve been together for a week now. And really, it’s all thanks to you and your advice.”

“I’m sure it’s more than that,” Tony smirks, he pauses, pointing his fork at the soldier, “ But I would like to be your best man at the wedding to return the favor.”

Steve snorts, “First of all, we just started going out, so I’m not seeing a wedding to close in the future. Second of all, you're forgetting some competition.”

“Oh, please,” Tony rolls his eyes, “Sam can be Bucky’s best man. I know they hated each other for a minute there, but they seem to get along now. And trust me, you guys are getting married. It’ll be the wedding of the century.”

Steve only shakes his head, sighing fondly at his friend’s antics. He looks Tony in the eyes, signaling for some serious time. “My point is, I took your advice. Maybe you should take mine.”

Tony avoids Steve’s eyes. Because he’s right. He needs to tell Fury. After all, he hasn’t gotten any farther; maybe the one eyed man can help. Tony raises his half empty mug, “Cap, you read my mind.”

–

Apparently what Rhodey meant by celebration was a party.

Tony is glad to say his partying days were far behind him, but that doesn’t mean he minds divulging in his still lingering love of the loud chatter and music. Only this time he is in a committed relationship with the love of his life and has the goal to never touch an alcohol bottle again.

The first part is no problem; not in a million years would Tony think of cheating on his precious Pepper. The second part however, strangles him. Tony stares at all the individuals with a glass in their hand with envy, looking down at his own glass filled with water(if anyone he doesn’t trust asks, it’s vodka). Sometimes the billionaire finds himself jealous of his enhanced friends who are unable to get drunk. At least then he could taste it, if not feel it.

“Tony,” greets a familiar voice. Tony looks to see Bruce standing behind him, a quizzical look on his face.

“Bruce,” Tony nods, raising in a glass of water. “Shouldn’t you be keeping your girlfriend company?”

Bruce looks over at Natasha and makes his way around the couch and sits next to the billionaire. “She’s busy catching up with some SHIELD agents. I thought it’d be best to let her do so on her own.”

“She told you to go busy yourself, didn’t she? In much less kinder words?” Tony asks, an amused smirk on his lips.

“It’s Nat. What do you expect?” Bruce has a duh look on his face. He shrugs and adds, “I don’t really mind, though. We haven’t really hung out one on one in quite a bit. Thought we should get the Science Bros back together.”

Tony nods, then sighs, “Yeah, that’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Bruce raises a hand dismissively, “It’s all for good reasons.”

Tony opens his mouth, then closes it. He wants to tell Bruce how he feels like this whole thing is eating away at him. He wants to tell him how he feels himself reverting to his old ways; staying up until he realizes his alarm clock is going off, distancing himself from those he cares about, the urge to drink again. But he doesn’t. Because he knows what Bruce will say. What any of the Avengers or Pepper would say. They would tell him to take a break. But he can’t. Not until Peter is back in his aunt’s arms. 

If only it were that simple.

Chapter Text

You must have been looking for me,

sending smoke signals

– Smoke Signals

Tony awakes and finds himself sprawled out on one of the couches in his lab. As he sits up, pieces of paper fall from his chest to the ground, but he’s too groggy from sleep to even bother picking them up. 

To put it simply; the lab is a mess. Tony is a mess. There are papers and tech scattered everywhere, the file cabinets are overflowing with papers, and there is a bottle of Dr Pepper laying on its side, liquid dripping out onto the floor, creating a puddle. Tony is sure that if he saw his own reflection in that puddle, he would see a man staring back at him who clearly needs a shower and get a good night's sleep in an actual bed. And if that doesn’t say enough, Sam Wilson should.

Sam sits in his swivel chair, a book in hand. But his eyes are glued on Tony, mocking.

“What the hell are you doing in my lab?” Tony asks, all but kindly. 

Sam closes his book, using his index finger as a bookmark. He ignores the billionaire’s question with ease. He stands up and pats Tony on the back, motioning for him to get up. “Emergency meeting in ten. C’mon.”

Sam starts to leave and Tony shoots up, catching up to him. “Emergency– What?” Tony narrows his eyes. 

The other man rolls his eyes. “I can’t say I’m not glad that you’re at least getting some sort of sleep, Tony. Not that going nocturnal is much of an improvement from being an insomniac. But if you’d been awake at this time of day like a normal person, you’d know there’s been an anonymous tipper.”

This grabs Tony’s attention.

“Secret code and everything,” Sam continues as they enter the elevator. He presses the button for the second to top floor. “Fury and his team have been trying to crack it for fifteen hours.”

“I could’ve helped.”

Sam shrugs, “Sure you could’ve; you were asleep, though.”

Tony doesn’t answer that, because, well, he’s not wrong. “Cap’s pissed, isn’t he?” he says instead. Then he winces, “And Fury?”

“Steve is definitely pissed,” Sam nods, whistling out a laugh, and he doesn’t give any more information than that. “Fury, however, was quite pissed. He’s quite calm now.”

Tony slowly looks over at Sam. The man’s chin is held out confidently as it usually is when he walks, especially with a purpose, and he glances over at Tony, before looking right back ahead of him. “What does that mean?” Tony demands. Nick Fury is never calm , even when he’s in a good mood. The slightest things piss that man off with little effort. Tony should know – he’s been an accessory in Fury’s anger more times than he can count.

Okay, maybe the word accessory is underplaying it just a bit. But that’s besides the point.

And just as they approach the doors to the meeting room, Sam says what Tony didn’t even know he was dreading until that very moment: 

“Fury knows about the kid.”

Tony stops in his tracks. Sam only takes a few more steps before he notices. “I’m sorry but what?” Tony snarls, “Rogers told him didn’t he? And after I said I was going to do it myself? He fucking told him–”

“Stark!” Wilson cuts him off, placing his hands on each of Tony’s shoulders. As if Tony couldn’t calm himself down. As if– “Steve didn’t tell Fury. Nat did.”

Tony promptly shut his mouth. Because it does make sense. Out of all the Avengers, Natasha is the closest to Fury. She’s the only one that the one-eyed man would allow to call him by his first name, even if she rarely does, and Natasha has even admitted to seeing him as some sort of father figure in their past bonding meetings. If anyone were to tell Fury, it would be her. And she did. Tony lets that thought sink in, and meets eyes with Sam, “But why? Why would she do that?” With each word the resentment builds. 

“Because she cares, Tony,” Sam says simply.

Tony scoffs, shaking his head. 

“Can’t you see it, man?” Sam frowns, tilting his head. “You’re falling into the deep end again. We all see it. Fury sees it. And he had absolutely no reason to believe that it was because of anything other than you just giving up. Because in the past, it’s what you’ve done. You may be the man to never give up on a project or an Avengers mission, but you’re also the type of man to give up on yourself – and Fury, he wasn’t sure if he could trust you out in the field because of that. So when Natasha saw the chance to get him to realize what it was really all about, to see that you really can be trusted, she did. And god, you should’ve seen the look on Fury’s face. It was as proud of a look as you can get from him, because sorry man, but you’ve finally done something that isn’t at all for your personal gain.”

“It is selfish, though,” Tony whispers.

“What?”

“Me looking for this kid has gotta be one of the most selfish things I’ve done, Wilson,” Tony shakes his head, rubbing at his jaw. “I’m doing it so I can say that I’ve done one right thing for this world. Sure, I’ve saved it a few times. Plenty of times, actually. But when am I going to actually sit down and just think about every individual person and their problems? When am I going to save the world and not just because I’m scared, but because all these innocent people are, too? You should’ve seen this boy’s aunt and how much grief is just piling on top of her. I wanted to find Peter for her so she wouldn’t lash out on the world like the others and then have it blamed on me. And that is probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever said.”

Sam is silent for a moment. He looks at Tony like he’s just discovered the grandest thing about him, like he didn’t truly know the billionaire until this very moment. He probably didn’t actually, and this is when all the puzzle pieces fall into place and Sam actually understands Tony. And not a lot of people truly understood Tony Stark. Rhodey always has, and so have Pepper, Happy, and Bruce. But that was it. Until Sam Wilson. 

“You know what I think, Tony?” Sam says. “I think everyone on this planet is at least the tiniest bit selfish. And I think that there is no such thing as a good deed that isn’t self-serving. Why do you think the rest of us Avengers are here? We do it to help people, yeah, but we also do it to make ourselves feel good. To make up for all our wrongs. You finding this boy is just like that, and possibly one of the greatest things you could do. So maybe it’s a little selfish, but why should that matter?” 

Tony doesn’t respond at first because Wilson is right. And Tony hates it when other people are right, especially when it opposes his own thought process(which is another mindset Sam could so easily lecture him about in the matter of seconds). He sighs. “But what if I don’t find him?”

“Then at least you tried,” Sam answers with zero hesitation. “Besides; I think giving up out of fear of being selfish is much more selfish than simply just moving onwards with it. Even if you don’t end up succeeding. Now come on, we don’t need to be late.”

“I haven’t showered, let me just–”

Sam rolls his eyes, pushing Tony towards the door, “That’s never stopped you before.”

Aaaand they’re back.

Tony cracks his knuckles and slips on his usual facade when they enter the room. All heads turn towards him and Sam, but he doesn’t let that get to him and instead takes his usual spot at the table between Bruce and Steve.

“What were you thinking?” Steve whispers urgently, leaning into his arms and towards Tony. “We would’ve got this all done much faster if you were here.”

“And you also could’ve if you just came and woke me up ,” Tony shoots back just as quickly. 

Steve hesitates, looking Tony up and down. Probably noticing his lack of a shower, Tony guesses. “Fury told us not to.”

Tony’s eyes catch Fury’s, who stands at the front of the room, and the amount of pride in his one eye makes up for the lack of the other. Tony nods at the man, before looking at Natasha, who sits across from him. Thank you , he mouths. She tilts her head quizzingly at the gratitude, then a moment later, she smiles a small smile with a shrug.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware,” Fury starts, the sound of his voice silencing any other noise in the room, “We meet here today to discuss an encrypted message sent to us by an anonymous tipper. It took us quite a bit of time to translate it all, but now that we have it all done, I can assure you it is very promising and might just be the catalyst in our current number one goal: taking down the notorious organization we all know as HYDRA.”

He pauses. For dramatic effect, Tony is sure.

“According to this message, HYDRA is supposed to be heading towards Moscow, Russia,” Fury elaborates, “For what reason, we are not sure. It is unusual for them to do such a thing, especially loudly enough for someone to catch on. However, it gives us an advantage. They’re after something, and they’re doing it with urgency. Sloppily. And we can use that against them by tracing back these messy steps to their main headquarters.”

“And if this thing they’re after is dangerous?” Clint questions. 

“That’s why we’ve called upon our out of range Avengers,” Fury gestures to Thor. As well as Wanda and Vision, apparently, Tony realizes when he notices them sitting in their usually empty spots. “And a few of our best SHIELD agents will come as backup.”

This is serious then, Tony thinks as Fury continues talking. Their big chance at hitting HYDRA at their most vulnerable state. They’ve dismissed their usual, top-secret protocol, and have recklessly been noticed by some anonymous tipper, just to get something in their grasp.

The main question is: what could it be that they so desperately want?

–

Peter sits on the same bench in that small park once more.

It’s sunny out, and birds chirp and flutter in the air. Peter has his duffel bag next to him, and he has his knees brought up to his chest and his feet at the edge of the seat.

To put it simply, Peter has done a lot of thinking since Michelle stopped meeting him here and has come to one final question: what was he thinking ? Him running away only caused more havoc than necessary. He should’ve stayed on that plane and he should’ve killed that May Parker woman. In fact, in some sort of sick and twisted way, the longer Peter goes without killing her, the more he wants to. He wants the blood on his hands. He wants the thrill he gets right after killing someone, even if it quickly turns into gut wrenching guilt and dread.

He must go back to HYDRA. Maybe have them say the last three words, so he can become a mindless drone, and he’ll lose all the care and emotions he holds so closely to his heart. Because it hurts. It all hurts so much.

“You reminded me of someone I once knew.”

The familiar voice draws Peter out of his self-deprecating thoughts. He cranes his head to see Michelle approaching him, a conflicted look on her face.

“That’s why I approached you in that music store,” she says as she gets closer, and she sits down on the other side of Peter’s duffle bag. “It was partly because you picked up a Queens album, but also because you looked like him… Or at least how I imagined he would look.”

Peter wants to ask who, but he can’t find it in himself to speak. So he stays silent, letting her contine.

“But you’re not him,” Michelle breathes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Because he’s dead and you’re, well, alive. And besides, you grew up here. You couldn’t possibly be him, no matter how much I wished you to be… And even though you’re not him, I still enjoyed getting to know you, Parker Auclair.”

Peter winces at the false name. “Why are you telling me this?” he rasps out. He finally looks at her, and she looks at him.

“Well, I’m leaving to go back home in an hour,” Michelle says, “And also, I just thought you should know. Whatever it was that happened with you and those muggers the other day, it scared me. So I stayed away. Then I realized I just couldn’t stay away. So I at least wanted to say goodbye.”

Peter nods, “Okay. Goodbye, then,” he smiles slightly. 

Michelle stands, flattening out her pants, “I’ll see you again next time I visit?” Michelle questions.

“I won’t be here for much longer… I’m, uh, moving in the fall,” Peter lies.

Michelle is silent for a moment, then she nods, “Oh, well, I guess this is for good, then. Goodbye, Parker.”

Peter sighs in relief, because she understands that he can’t keep in contact with her. Even if she doesn’t understand why. “Goodbye, Michelle.”

She begins to walk away, but then looks back at him, “My friends call me MJ, by the way. Thought you should know just in case we run into each other again by some fated chance.”

And then she leaves.  

Peter is alone again, and when enough time has passed, he gets up, too. He thinks back to MJ’s words and how she mentioned fate. Peter has never really believed in fate, and he certainly hopes that his disbelief in such a thing holds up, because if fate does decide to let them meet again, it couldn’t be for any good reasons. Not at all.

–

Lights flicker in an interrogation room set up within the walls of the Raft. There’s a metal table, a metal chair, and Nick Fury enters the room, a file in hand.

Carter Ivanov sits at the metal table, and he knows that he’s about to be interrogated. But he will bite his tongue. He will not betray HYDRA, for it is his home and his legacy. He will not fail HYDRA.

Fury opens the file, pulls out an image and slides it over to Ivanov. He catches it right before it falls to the ground, chains restricting him, and holds the photo in his hands. He recognizes the boy in the photo instantly. It is his pet. Паук.

“Now, I want you to tell me everything you know about this boy,” Nick Fury says slowly but firmly, “Or, I swear, you will know the feeling of hell before you even make it there. You hear me, Ivanov?”

Ivanov simply looks Fury in the eye, and smirks.

“Я знаю ад как свои пять пальцев,” he says with a shrug. And nothing more.

–

Peter, with his duffel bag over his shoulder, walks into one of the most popular pubs of Moscow. Well, most popular as in where the most shady stuff is more likely to happen. Hence, HYDRA agents. 

Peter isn’t blind, nor is he stupid. He’s noticed how more and more HYDRA agents have been filing into the city. HYDRA knows he’s here, and Peter knows that they know. It gives him the upper hand, just in case his peaceful approach of turning himself in turns out to be not so peaceful.

The boy orders himself a beer, and the bartender looks him up and down before deciding he could care less about the drinking age and gives him a bottle(if only he pays a little bit more, which Peter doesn’t mind as he has plenty of cash from Robert).

Peter sips on his beer and thinks of Robert, who so kindly took him in. He put himself in danger by doing so, so Peter left a note of gratitude before he left, letting him know that he was turning himself in. Peter knows they won’t kill him; they need him too much. 

That thought gives him a boost of confidence as he looks around the pub. He observes each individual person and their body language. Peter finds that it is very easy to identify a HYDRA agent by the way they present themselves in public, especially when they’re undercover. He uses this tactic to find one, in order to surrender. 

Five hundred deaths , Peter hums thoughtfully, what’s a few hundred more?

Inevitable , he hears Harry’s voice in his mind, worth it for the cause of world peace.

But what does world peace mean to HYDRA? Peter isn’t sure their meaning truly matches up to the actual definition.

But that doesn’t matter, Peter decides once he finally scopes out a HYDRA agent. He holds his gaze on the man for a long time, who sits in a corner, beer in hand as he forces nonchalance. Pathetic, really. The HYDRA agent meets Peter’s eyes, and Peter smirks, approaching his table.

“I’ve come to turn myself in,” Peter says in Russian. He considers what he’s doing for a moment. Because in this very moment he is giving up everything; his friendship with May, his possible family in New York, and most of all, his freedom. But he does not back out. He does not flee.

This is the right thing to do. 

The HYDRA agent stands, and smirks back, “You’ve passed the test, Паук. Good boy.”

Peter shudders at the familiar name. Test? He grits his teeth, “Say it. Say the eighth word. I dare you to.”

The man’s smirk widens, “Август.”

August.

“Peter!” a voice calls. The boy vaguely recognizes it to be Robert. 

And just as the man enters the pub, everything erupts into chaos. Peter tries to get his footing, grasping onto a table for balance as he squeezes his eyes shut. He feels the tiniest bit of him slip away, but he asked for this, didn’t he? This is his doing.

If he would’ve just gone to the states and completed his mission, all would be well.

“Robert!” Peter calls over the gunshots. But the HYDRA agent pulls him back, whispering in his ear.

“Kill him,” he orders.

Peter tries to fight it. He really did. But he’s too late. Robert is on the floor, bullet wound in head.

And Peter had been the one to pull the trigger.

–

When the Avengers make it to Moscow, they find a city shuffling with civilians and HYDRA agents alike.

Tony could not tell you which is which, not unless a HYDRA agent does something to make it very obvious who they work for.

“Stay hidden,” Cap says, “We don’t need anyone seeing Avengers in their city; it will only cause a scene.” Which is precisely why all of them are not in their signature gear. Tony does have his suit ready for when the moment arises where he needs it, however. 

Wanda walks next to him, her hands flexing every so often. Tony recognizes it to be a defense mechanism, much like how his own hand always reaches to his arc reactor. “So, you and Vision, huh?” Tony comments, trying to cover the awkward tension between them with some small talk.

Wanda simply glares at the billionaire, then gives in with a small nod. That’s that.

“There appears to be a problem in the pub just around the corner from where you guys are,” Barnes informs them through the coms. He’s currently in the Quinjet, looking over all of the city's surveillance cameras. “Gunshots. Most likely from HYDRA.”

Steve nods, “Let’s go.”

The Avengers quickly but discreetly make their way towards the pub. Clint peers through one of the windows, only just dodging a bullet that breaks the glass. He raises a brow, “Remind me again why I brought a bow and arrow to a gunfight?”

Tony taps his arc reactor and his Iron Man suit is activated. Clint puts an arrow into his bow and then pulls back. The bow fires, knocking a bullet out of its course, saving an elderly man from being shot. “That’s why,” Tony smirks, before shutting his helmet, and Clint laughs.

They all file into the building and Natasha quickly begins fighting a guy, knocking him out in seconds, stealing his gun. Wanda uses her powers to make another agent keel to the floor, screaming in pain. Steve throws his shield right into a woman’s stomach, pinning her against the wall. Thor throws his hammer, letting it ricochet off Cap’s shield into another agent's shoulder, successfully knocking them out. 

But no matter how many agents they take out, there are always more. And outside, where Sam Wilson and Vision are flying around, is chaos as well.

“Code green?” Tony asks, aiming his repulsors at yet another HYDRA agent coming his way.

Natasha hesitates, then nods. She brings her hand to her com and says, “Bruce. Code green. Yeah?”

Bruce’s response – or rather, the Hulk’s – is to tear down the wall of the pub with a loud roar. Natasha looks up at her boyfriend with a smirk, wind in her hair. Natasha only lets her guard down around Bruce, and when he throws a HYDRA agent who tries to catch her off guard halfway across the city, he proves himself to be worthy of that honor. They make quite the couple, Tony decides.

“Tony, a young boy is in the crossfire, to your left,” Steve calls over all the noise.

Tony looks over to where Steve is referring to and sees a teenage boy on the ground, sobbing over a dead body. He can’t help but feel his heart twist in pity. Was it the boy’s father? Someone important to him? Tony takes a slow approach with that in mind. He knows grief. He knows what it can do to a person. Especially a person as young as him.

“Kid,” he tries, slightly tugging at the teenager’s shoulder.

But before he can process what is happening, Tony is pinned against the wall. He’s sure there must be a dent in his suit now where the kid’s hands are. How the hell is he so strong? Tony gasps in pain as the kid tears at his suit, and through the eyes of the helmet he begins to make the boy’s features out. Brown messy hair, scars covering his face, and a dark and insane look in his eyes, as well as blood covering his body.

But underneath all that darkness, Tony sees the light.

This boy is Peter Parker.

Chapter Text

Before I learned civility,

I used to scream ferociously

— Seven, Taylor Swift

Peter wants it to end.

It’s what he’s wanted for as long as he can remember. He can picture a tinier version of himself, strapped to a table, thrashing against his restraints, screaming for it all to stop.

Each breath he had wished to be his last, and for some unknown, indescribable reason, he’s still breathing . His breaths were short and ragged, but still undeniably signs of life.

Why is he living and not Robert Auclair? Why him over all who he has killed?

If he had just never been taken by HYDRA, or even born in the first place, they’d all be alive. He would’ve never had to go through that torture, strapped to that table.

And now he is back, right there, where all the horrors began. Screaming, thrashing, yearning for freedom. And still somehow breathing.

But why ?

—

Tony Stark’s mind is running a mile a minute.

Well, it already always is anyway. It’s just the way his mind and body works, always one step ahead. Never the standard; not a bad thing, but also not quite a good thing to have. And right now, he’s unsure of what’s even happening. Of what’s real and what’s fake.

“Tony. You need your arm to be set,” Rhodey advises. He wasn’t there for the mission that just occurred, due to business as Colonel — the mission where Tony found Peter. Or Peter found Tony. One of those two; he isn’t sure. But as soon as Rhodey heard the news, he came rushing over as soon as he possibly could.

Because Peter Parker is here. 

Tony simply shakes his head at Rhodey’s suggestion; the pain in his arm is nothing. He’s too preoccupied. And even if he wasn’t, all the available people who could set his arm, like Bruce or Helen Cho, are too busy trying to hold Peter down so they can attend to his wounds. Tony can wait, Peter can’t.

He watched through the window to the room within the Medbay. It’s loud, with the kid’s own screaming and then a doctor yelling that they need to get him to hold still. They try to sedate him, which only works for a moment before Peter is screaming once again, in a language Tony can recognize but not understand.

“Are you sure this is Peter Parker?” Natasha questions, “He’s speaking Russian , and underneath all that screaming is definitely a Russian accent.”

Tony is silent for a moment, because he’s just so certain. But at the same time, he almost hopes this isn’t Peter, for it would mean he is most likely brainwashed. “What’s he saying?” he finally says.

Natasha listens for another moment before she frowns, “Get away from me or I’ll… kill you .”

No one in the waiting room speaks, but simply looks over at the teenager Tony believes to be Peter. An uncomfortable blanket covers them all.

Then it clicks. “What did we use to sedate Cap that time he got seriously injured? Do we have some of it?” Tony asks, his eyes still on Peter.

Bucky raises a questioning brow, “I made sure Bruce kept it on hand just in case; it’s the only stuff that works on me and Steve. Why?”

“Kid’s enhanced.”

All eyes are now on Tony, and he’s not even sorry. “You never told us that ,” Sam accuses.

“Never came up,” Tony shrugs, “And I’m telling you now, aren’t I? The tranquilizers aren’t working on this kid; meaning this kid is probably enhanced. Therefore, this kid is the one I’ve been looking for.”

Sam opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it, closing his mouth with the shake of his head.

“Well, if that’s the case, you probably should tell them that,” Natasha suggests, hands on her hips, “You know, to give them a better idea of what they’re working with.”

Tony is about to nod, but is interrupted by the arrival of Rogers, Fury, and another SHIELD agent he doesn’t recognize. The billionaire’s eyes immediately go to Steve, knowing already that he told Fury everything.

“You can do that for him, Natasha,” Fury nods, “I need to have a word with Stark, as well as give him some medical attention.”

The agent, who is a curly haired woman, extends her hand. Tony doesn’t shake it, but she doesn’t seem phased, either. “Mister Stark. I’m Agent Leeroy. I can set your arm for you and get you a sling; I have a degree in medicine and am very well equipped for the job.”

Tony hums, “How professional. But I’m sure it can wait a bit longer.”

“I need ,” Fury says slowly, with emphasis, “to have a word with you, Stark. Now .”

“Woah, there,” Tony raises his arm defensively. Then he winces… “Alright,” he gives in, then he turns to the three Avengers who are in the room with him, “Keep an eye on Peter.” They nod.

Tony follows the two down the hallway, far enough for the screaming of Peter Parker to quiet down, but still close enough to hear it in a muffled sort of way. Tony can’t help but wince at the sound, and he wonders what the hell this kid has been through to be in such a state.

Leeroy begins to work on Tony’s arm and when she sets it back into the correct place, Tony yelps out in pain. Fury appears, as always, unphased and unconcerned, and immediately delves into talking.

“That kid in the room; that’s what HYDRA has been looking for,” Fury says thoughtfully. “I overheard you talking to your team in the waiting room; you said the kid’s enhanced. And from what the doctors have figured out, this boy is very special, and I can see why HYDRA wants him in their hands so badly. I also know that you think that this kid is Peter Parker. Why is that?”

Tony blinks, silent for a second. Peter is the one they were looking for? Really, it all made sense. Everything he’s learned today paired up with the stuff he’s figured out since taking the kid’s case, it is all adding up… “Because he has to be,” Tony answers Fury’s question. When the man merely raises an eyebrow, and Tony scoffs, shaking his head. He lets Leeroy put his arm in a sling before continuing, “I saw him, and I just knew. Peter was kidnapped when he was eleven; he’d already developed enough of his own features by then. A few scars and six years isn’t going to make him unrecognizable.”

“I do believe in the saying trust your gut,” Fury hums. “I had a talk with Ivanov. I asked him about Peter, and he didn’t say much. But the lunatic sure seems to know a good amount about the boy. So I’m having some doctors compare DNA. We’ll get the results and go from there.”

It’s then that an unsettling feeling falls upon Tony, and he furrows his brows. “And what exactly is your plan, Fury? I doubt the fact that this kid is Peter or not isn’t going to change any of that.”

Fury purses his lips, “We know barely anything about this kid, Stark. All we know is that he was in the hands of HYDRA and then ran away, and now he’s in SHIELD’s hands. We don’t know what HYDRA used him for or what he’s been through. But I sure as hell can tell you that this is a dangerous kid, and that his mental state isn’t all that good.” Fury stops talking and paces the room, rubbing at his temple.

“You never answered my question,” Tony narrows his eyes, watching the one eyed man.

“We will do what we need to do, Stark,” Fury says firmly, “We will make sure he cannot harm others and that HYDRA will not get him back.”

“So, what? You’ll lock him up like an animal?” Tony scoffs, “Like he’s just another criminal or super villain the Avengers have to defeat? This is a kid we’re talking about. I don’t give a shit about the fact that he’s enhanced or that he could kill anyone he wanted to. He’s still a kid .”

“A kid shaped by HYDRA,” Fury adds, unhelpfully so, “Yeah, he may have been Peter Parker once, but he sure isn’t that kid anymore. Just look at Barnes. Hell, look what the Red Room did to Natasha.”

Tony tilts his head, undeterred, “Okay. Sure. And what do those two have in common? Someone that pulled them to the surface, even when they were way too deep. Even when they were drowning in the blood of their victims. Steve makes sure everyday that Bucky remembers who he is. And Clint was sent to kill Nat, but he didn’t. Instead he helped her. Peter needs that kind of help.”

Fury stares at Tony with intensity, “And you want to be that person? You want to be Rogers and Barton for this boy?”

The billionaire is silent for a moment, but then he nods. “Yes. I want to take Peter in. You don’t want him to harm anyone? Sure, that’s easy; he’ll be surrounded by Avengers. You want him to unlearn the ways of HYDRA? Then he needs to be around people he can learn to trust, not some therapists you hire to talk with him in some sort of interrogation room.”

“And what happens if these results come back in and it’s not Peter Parker?”

“Then he still deserves this chance,” Tony says without hesitation, “And I will continue looking for Peter while I help whoever this kid is. But he is Peter, by the way.”

Fury does something that is almost a smile, “You win, Stark. But I want weekly updates.”

“You got it.”

Fur shakes his head. “Something has changed in you since Ultron, Tony. And for the better. You wouldn’t have cared this much six years ago.”

With that, Fury leaves. Leeroy tells him to keep his arm in the sling for two weeks and to avoid any fighting as Iron Man for three weeks. Tony sighs, because for whatever messed up reason, a break from Iron Man actually sounds good.

The only thing that matters to him right now is making sure he keeps Pepper happy and that Peter Parker is okay.

–

Peter awakes with a pounding headache and an aching body. The sun peeks through the curtains and the boy winces with a hiss.

Sensory overload, Peter tells himself dully. He gets them every so often, especially after a stressful situation. A stressful situation such as being experimented on, being locked up in a small room for hours on end, and also such as killing the one person who has actually shown him kindness in this god awful world. Robert might comfort him right now, unlike the way Ivanov always scoffed at him and called him a pussy when he found Peter curled up in a ball like this, eyes tightly shut and hands over his ears.

But Robert is dead. Peter had shot him.

Five hundred and… whatever number is, deaths on Peter’s hands. Thank you HYDRA. Because what an accomplishment. Peter is sure the man on the other side of the room hasn’t killed that many people; although Peter might just kill him if he makes another noise…

“Could you close those curtains by any chance?” Peter asks in Russian, his voice groggy. The man, who has glasses and has messy brown hair whips around, clearly startled. When he doesn’t respond, Peter sighs. He’s probably one of HYDRA’s German doctors. “Könnten Sie die Vorhänge schließen?" he corrects himself. Then he says it in French, then in–

“English, kid,” the man says, eyebrow raised, “You sure know quite a few languages. But, yeah, I can close those…”

Peter watches skeptically as the man makes his way towards the curtains. He was half expecting a scolding, maybe a beating. Or possibly he’d be killed for such disrespect and his misery would end right here, right now. After all, one of Ivanov’s rules was never to speak without being prompted to. No one cares what a mutant has to say.

“This isn’t HYDRA,” Peter whispers, switching back to Russian. It’s the only possible explanation. This man is nice, and this medical room is too cozy and high quality for one of HYDRA’s dingy bases or even the headquarters. 

“You’re right,” the doctor nods. Peter takes note that this man understands Russian, but doesn’t really seem to actually speak it himself. “This is not HYDRA.”

“No, no, no,” Peter shakes his head, “You get me back to HYDRA right now. Or I’ll kill you; I swear I will. Take your shitty human experimentations elsewhere”

The man purses his lips, “So I’ve heard. But, kid, I’m not here to… experiment on you. I want to help you. I would, however, like to know all your enhancements.”

“Who are you?” Peter whispers, his eyes narrowed.

“Bruce Banner,” the man replies, a kind smile on his face. As if a smile isn’t suspicious enough, Bruce holds out his hand. Peter opts not to take it.

“So, what? You want me to tell you my enhancements and then what?” Peter sneers, “You’ll send me somewhere and lock me up? because trust me, I know enhanced individuals are monsters bent on destroying the–”

“That would be highly hypocritical of me. Seeing as I am enhanced myself,” Bruce cuts him off, “Look, kid, I only want to help you.”

“Bruce Banner…” Peter whispers, the name sounding familiar, “You wrote the book I’m reading right now about Gamma Radiation. You… You’re an Avenger.”

“I am,” Bruce nods slowly, his eyes cautious, as if Peter could break any second. He gets it though, how else is an Avenger supposed to act around a HYDRA kid? “What do you think of that?”

Peter tilts his head, scrunching his nose, “Well, probably that I should kill you… But I ran away from HYDRA weeks ago. So I think I’m over that whole Avengers are bad bullshit. Everything HYDRA told me was bullshit, wasn’t it?”

Another rule, broken.

“You catch on quickly,” Bruce chuckles. “Alright, let’s start with your healing factor–”

“You never told me he’s awake.”

Peter and Bruce turn to see a man standing in the doorway. It’s the boy's instinct to decipher every detail about this new stranger, before he realizes that this man isn’t exactly a stranger. “Hey, you’re Tony Stark. Is it true you’re falling into another depressive episode? That’s what the reporter on the news said.”

“ Peter ,” Stark whispers, stepping closer to Peter’s bed. The boy frowns. How the hell does he know his name?

“Tony,” Bruce warns, raising a hand, “You don’t know if this is actually him. You can’t just–”

“Fury said he’s my responsibility,” Stak cuts in, his voice sharp. 

“That may be so, but you can’t just barge in here unannounced, calling him Peter,” Bruce sighs, placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “We don’t know if this is Peter, or how fragile he is.”

Peter’s frown deepens, “Hey, I’m not fragile. But I am Peter. Well, I think I am. I had a dream that I was.”

“You’re Peter?” Stark perks up, “Kid, tell me, what do you remember from before HYDRA? Have you always had that accent–”

“Tony, stop,” Bruce hisses, “Come with me, we need to talk. Peter, wait here, we’ll be right back.”

Peter merely hums in acknowledgement. The door clicks shut behind the two men and Peter slips out of bed, tugging at his hospital gown.

“I’ve been looking for this kid for over a month, Bruce,” he can hear Stark say, “I’m sorry if I want to know exactly what happened to him. So that I can bring him to his actual home and–”

“You know it’s not that simple,” Bruce sighs, “This is a HYDRA kid we’re talking about. You send that kid home to his Aunt and she will not recognize him at all. And from what I’ve seen, I don’t think he’d recognize her, either.”

Peter tenses at these words. A home? An aunt? The boy shakes his head at the thought, telling himself not to get his hopes up. As MJ told him: if you expect disappointment, you can never get disappointed. Peter shouldn’t expect to have a family, just like he shouldn’t expect for the Avengers to actually help him, instead of using him like everyone else.

He opts to tune the two out and he instead approaches the window, opening the blinds once more. Peter squints his eyes, letting them adjust to the sunlight, and he takes in this view. On some level, Peter already knew he must be in New York City after knowing he’s with the Avengers, but this… The view is amazing, filled with large buildings, hundreds of people walking about, and a big, blue, sunny sky. Peter presses his forehead against the glass, taking it all in.

“I can sense your presence, you know,” Peter mumbles to Bruce and Stark, who must’ve thought Peter didn't realize they were behind him. “It’s precognition. I know danger is coming before it happens. Which is funny, because I’m stuck in a room with two of my enemies, and this is the quietest the tingle at the back of my neck has ever been.”

“We’re not your enemies, Peter,” Stark insists.

Peter snorts, “That’s exactly what my enemy would tell me, Stark.”

Stark looks at Peter quizzingly. As if he is a puzzle to be solved. What Peter doesn’t tell him, however, is that even he himself hasn’t even been able to completely solve that puzzle. Nobody truly can. There’s too many pieces, all of which come from all different kinds of places. Some, Peter knows too well, and others, Peter has never even picked up.

And the worst part is, none of the puzzle pieces actually fit together. 

Peter certainly hopes Stark will realize that soon. Because it’s clear that Peter has been chosen for his next big project, and he really isn’t sure what he should think of that.

Chapter Text

Are you still a mind reader?

A natural scene stealer?

I've heard great things, Peter

– Peter, Taylor Swift

Tony looks at Peter Parker and doesn’t see the kid he saw in all those photos.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised by this; it’s just what HYDRA does. They take someone and mend them until they’re up to the standards, but unrecognizable to everyone else. Bucky is a prime example of this, Steve has said so many times. And maybe it should be easier for Tony. It’s not like he knew the kid before HYDRA took him. But for whatever messed up reason, he just can’t get over this idea.

“We were able to fish out your duffle bag out of the scraps,” Tony says, making his way into Peter’s room in the MedBay. Peter sits by the window, curled up in a ball and book in his hands. At Tony’s words, the boy immediately perks up, and is the happiest Tony has seen him in the barely twenty four hours of knowing him. “I can get you a new one though; it’s pretty beat up.”

Peter ignores him, however, and snatches the bag out of his hands. Within seconds, Peter is going through the thing, only relaxing when he’s certain nothing is missing. “Something important in there?” Tony asks, only curious. He also needs to fill this silence somehow; anyone who knows Tony Stark knows he can’t stand silence. So he speaks just to speak.

“Just some hard drugs,” Peter shrugs, putting the bag to his side and draping his arm over it, as if to protect it. Tony stares at him for a second, opening his mouth only to close it again. What the hell was he supposed to say to that ? It’s only when Peter bursts out laughing that Tony realizes that was a joke. (Hopefully.) “You’re face! That was priceless!”

Tony sighs, shaking his head. Peter Parker isn’t Peter Parker at all. He has scars running across his face, and a Russian accent that is thick in his every word. He has a dark sense of humor, and while he has a sharp wit that he’s not afraid to use, he seems to cower at the idea of anyone who actually listens .

Tonny cannot imagine he had much of anyone who listened to him at HYDRA. 

But he truly and undoubtedly is Peter Parker. The DNA test tucked into an envelope in Tony’s calloused hand proves just that. Tony cannot believe the kid he’s been searching for just happened to randomly pop up in his life due to what can only be described as fate. But that’s just how the world works when you're an Avenger; it’s always throwing all the best and worst stuff imaginable at you. And Tony, he isn’t sure which of the two this all is.

“Did HYDRA ever tell you about where you came from?” Tony blurts out, not knowing how to approach this delicate situation with grace. He watches as the smile slowly fades from Peter’s face before turning into a schooled, nonchalant face Tony knows all too well.

“They did, but it was all lies,” Peter shrugged, his hands fidgeting with the fabric of the hospital gown.

“What exactly did they tell you then?” Tony asks, taking a seat across from the boy.

Peter glares and then snaps, “Like I said: not the truth. Can we get to the point?” Then he seems to cower at his own temper, shrinking back into the armchair, as if hoping it will suck him into oblivion.

“The results came in,” Tony says simply, sliding the envelope across the coffee table.

Peter looks at him skeptically before taking the envelope and tearing it open. He slowly unfolds the paper and his eyes follow the lines of the words. Tony waits, holding his breath, not knowing how the kid’s going to react.

“Peter… Parker ,” he whispers the last part, and the word sounds foreign on his tongue, but also so familiar. Tony supposes that makes sense. “I’m Peter Parker?” the boy asks. And god, does he sound so small , the complete opposite of the attitude he’s been giving Tony, Bruce, and Helen.

“Yes, that’s you,” Tony nods. “I’ve actually been looking for you; you’ve been missing for six years now. But now you’re away from HYDRA and you're safe .”

Peter frowns uncertainty at the last part. Then his frown deepens, “You were looking for me? Why?”

“Your aunt came to me,” Tony says simply, “She wanted to give finding you another shot and I offered to help… Look, she doesn’t know you’re here, and she doesn’t have to if you don't want to, but–”

“What’s her name?” Peter cuts her off.

“May. May Parker.”

At this answer a shift occurs in Peter’s demeanor, “I don’t want her to know.”

Tony frowns, confused, “But, Peter–”

“No. You should have never looked for me,” Peter shakes his head, “I don’t know who I was before but it’s certainly not who I am now. I’ve done terrible things and she’s better off with simply the memory of me before. I don’t want to see her and I don’t want her to know I’m alive. Now please leave.”

“Peter–”

“ Leave .”

Tony sighs, but leaves anyway. He really does have no idea what he’s doing.

–

Tony stares at his alcohol cabinet. It’s empty, but that’s besides the point.

He needs a drink. Something to get his mind off the whole thing. Instead he sits on his and Pepper’s bed, and moves his gaze to the window overlooking the city. It’s night time now, and Bruce forced him to come up to his penthouse and get some rest. But all he can think about is Peter and the fact that he really needs to be drunk right now.

There’s a shift in the bed’s weight and Tony looks over to see Pepper getting into the bed. She presses herself against his back and runs her hands over his shoulders. Reflexively, Tony leans back into her, letting his head fall back with a light hum.

“What’s on your mind?” Pepper whispers softly, her nose butting against his neck. 

Tony thinks for a second and sighs. “Do you think I’d make a good dad?”

Pepper freezes at this question, obviously taken aback. But she relaxes a moment later. “This is about Peter, isn’t it?”

Tony nods slowly and pulls away from her. He adjusts so they’re face to face, but refuses to look her in the eyes. “I know he’s not my kid. And my goal is to reunite him with his aunt, not keep him or anything. But Peter… He’s reluctant, I guess. Doesn’t want to see her ever. I think it’s a guilt thing for all the things HYDRA has made him do. Whatever that may be. I need to convince him, but that involves, you know, taking care of him. Being a sort of father figure.”

“Tony, you know I think you’d make a good father,” Pepper says gently, “I know this is scary, and we weren’t expecting to take Peter in like this. But you can help this boy. And you’ll have my help and the Avengers’ help, too. We will get this boy back to his aunt and in good shape, too.”

Tony rubs his eyes, “This feels like some sort of test. We’ve agreed that kids are going to be in our future. But this… it’s so soon. And if I screw this up… If it turns out I do parent like my father, what will I do when we do have those kids?”

Pepper places her hands on his cheeks, making him look up at her. “You won’t, okay? And us having our own kids is a long way away.”

“What if I drink again?”

And there’s the question. Something to slap them both right in the face. Something that needs to be discussed, even if it leaves a painful twist in their guts. Pepper shakes her head. “Those AA meetings Happy told you about last year? Start going to them. Now is better than later, get ahead of the game.”

“Pepper–”

“No, Tony,” she scolds gently, “I don’t need to hear that AA meetings are below you. That you have it under control, or that all the meetings are crying about your problems to strangers. Because none of those things are true. Do it for Peter and do it for our future kids. Dammit Tony, do it for me .”

Tony looks at Pepper and she’s on the verge of tears and his heart just breaks. 

“Okay,” Tony gives in, “I’ll do it; I’ll call Happy in the morning and I will start going to the meetings with him.”

Pepper smiles and kisses him hard, “Hell yeah, you will.”

–

Peter has felt hatred before.

There is, of course, his handler. Carter Ivanov is easy to hate. To cower at even the thought of him. Norman Osborn has his fair share of Peter’s hatred, too. And there is also Паук, his other half. The fake version of him that feels more real than whoever this Peter Parker is that’s apparently him. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing, compares for the annoyance Peter feels whenever he so much as looks at Tony Stark. It’s a petty dislike, and really, Peter shouldn’t be comparing Iron Man to the likes of HYDRA. But that’s exactly Peter’s point; Stark is a man flawed by his own ego and other personal problems and yet still somehow never fails to be good . He’s also very happy-go-lucky and always cracking jokes. Peter can say with confidence that this man would never survive an hour as a HYDRA agent. He’s too… unserious , and talks way too much. And it makes Peter want to punch him right in the jaw. 

Logically, Peter knows that it was more fate bringing them together than the fact that Stark had been looking for him. But why would anyone look for him ? 

Peter doesn’t want to know the answer to that question. The only thing he knows is that he needs to get back to HYDRA before it’s too late to make amends. Peter wants – needs – the last of his ten words to be said to him. He can’t live like this anymore, and would much rather be a mindless drone who carried out missions for HYDRA. That, or he might just kill himself. Peter is a failure, who betrayed those who gave him a purpose. He deserves the punishment, and the world would be much better off with no Peter Parker, and just Паук.

Peter went to that HYDRA agent for a reason: to go back home. Of course Tony Stark had to interfere. And of course he had to shove the fact that the woman he was sent to kill when he ran away was his aunt. His only living relative. 

His plan is plane and simple: make as much trouble he can without killing anyone. Discard the man’s ideas that he can be saved. Peter’s too far gone, after all. Just a fragment of the little boy he was before he was taken, whoever that may be. He just has to prove that to Stark, and maybe he’ll be sent back to where he belongs and live the rest of his life as a mindless drone.

“Hail HYDRA,” Peter whispers to no one but the ceiling. But no matter how many times he says those words, in any language, he knows he doesn’t have it in himself to take the life of May Parker. And he also knows that if he’s ever around May Parker, he won’t be able to stop himself from killing her.

Those ten words. They’re both a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Peter lays on the hospital bed simply thinking, unable to sleep. He looks at the lit up digits on the clock that read three o’clock in the morning. He hasn’t slept a bit since arriving, and it’s starting to catch up to him. Peter sighs, readjusting himself to the side, his arms stretched out in front of him.

Bandages are wrapped around his bony wrists. Peter doesn’t exactly know why that is; they aren’t actively bleeding. Bruce asked him what happened to his wrists, clearly never seeing such a thing before. Peter opted not to answer him, and then Bruce wrapped them. Peter would really rather not have to go through the storytelling of HYDRA’s most recent experiments on him, and how they purposely added one more feature to him to make him even less human.

Peter sits up and tugs at the bandages, carefully unwrapping them. They’re no longer swollen and almost look normal. He’s sure that when they’re completely healed they will look like any ordinary wrists, only with webs oozing out of them whenever he wishes.

Curiously, Peter shoots webs out of his right wrist to latch on to a vase, before swinging it to the ground where it shatters with a loud crash. He smiles at this, standing up. Peter takes his other wrist and attaches webs to a pillow, making it hit the wall with a muffled thud. He laughs and looks up at the corner of the ceiling.

Peter easily decides that it looks more comfortable up there than it does in the bed.

So he sticks himself to the wall and climbs. He carefully makes a hammock-like thing with his webs and curls up into a ball, and finally, he falls asleep.

–

All evidence of his web made bed is gone when Steve Rogers comes to wake Peter up. 

He walks in how Peter can only expect the Captain America would. His shoulders are pushed back and his chest puffed out, unintentionally showing off his strong build he gained from the serum. His blond hair is in his face without coming off as messy and his face shows off emotions only someone like Peter or another trained assassin could decipher. Rogers is so perfect in a way that makes the younger boy feel utterly revolted and disgusted. 

At this point, he’d rather have Stark come to wake him up like he’d expected. And that’s really saying something.

Peter can’t say he’s not curious about what all the Avengers are like, or that he doesn’t want to meet them. He’s heard many things about the heroes, but HYDRA likes to paint them as villains. And Peter is a HYDRA agent and assassin before he’s an ally to any Avengers, but he can’t help but want to get his own idea about what they’re all really like. Maybe it’s a safety thing, or him trying to find something he can use against them, Peter isn’t sure. 

His eyes lock with Rogers as the man steps into the room. Peter briefly maintains eye contact before he goes back to what he was doing before: reapplying the bandages on his wrists.

“Oh, you’re already awake,” Rogers frowns. His voice sounds confident and self assured, but his demeanor is awkward and his shoulders a little bit. It’s not something a normal person would pick up on, but Peter does. He smirks at this thought because there it is right there, a flaw in the perfect Captain America. 

“Great observation,” Peter hums, finishing off the bandages on his right wrist.

Steve ignores this snide remark and steps closer to the bed. “Tony sent me to show you to your room. He and Bruce are busy with Avengers business so I’m your next bet.”

His room? Peter thinks, unsure. He doesn’t question it out loud, however. He’s not meant to ask questions like those, he reminds himself. Sure, Peter has said his fair share of rude comments to the Avengers he has met, but he needs to listen and he needs to go with the flow.

“What about Black Widow?” Peter questions a small smile forming on his face, if only at the scrunch of Rogers’ nose.

But the man only chuckles, not disagreeing, “SHIELD business,” he tells him simply. “Anyway, get all your stuff and I’ll show you where your room is.”

Peter is still uncertain about this hospitality but he does so anyway. Swinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, he follows Rogers down the hallway and to the elevator. Rogers tells FRIDAY to go to floor ninety-two, and Peter can’t help but stare. “So… I just get to stay here? For however long I want? In my own room?” Peter blurts out.

Instead of scolding him for his questions, Rogers looks at him with what Peter can only describe as pity; and he hates it for whatever messed up reason. “Of course, Peter. Tony really wants to get you the help you need. You aren’t the only person in this building who came from HYDRA or another place that’s similar. Tony has been looking for you for two months, and now that you’re here, he’d do anything to protect you. Including letting you stay with us.”

Peter scoffs at that idea. “Good one.”

“Good one?” Rogers narrows his eyes, confused. The elevator dings and Peter rolls his eyes as they step off.

“You think I believe that’s all there is to it?” Peter laughs dryly, “That there isn’t some ulterior motive here? I’m not stupid. I’m beyond stupid.”

“I don’t think you're stupid,” Rogers says gently, as if Peter is some scared creature that will run off at the smallest threat. It’s funny, because he feels like he is. He knows that he is. “And there’s no ulterior motives… Peter, when's the last time someone has done something for you with purely good intentions?”

And that question hits Peter like a semi truck, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He swallows, Robert coming to his mind. “There was one person, just one. From the part of my life I remember. But I killed him,” Peter whispers the last part, trying to keep the guilt out of his voice. He fails miserably.

Rogers purses his lips, clearly unsure of what to say. Peter doesn’t blame him, though, because he doesn’t know what to say to that either.

“Just… Where’s my room?” Peter asks, his voice sharp with frustration. 

Steve nods his head to the left. But he’s not looking at Peter any differently. Even though he’s an assassin, a murderer. Robert is only one of the hundreds he’s killed; Peter is sure Steve must know that on some level. And yet, he only smiles at him, comforting him as he leads him inside his bedroom. It’s huge, too, and the bed looks comfortable. And Peter… 

He’s unsure of what he’s done to deserve all of this.

Chapter Text

I want to believe

That if I go outside I'll see a tractor beam

Coming to take me to where I'm from

– Chinese Satellite

It’s a rare occurrence that Happy has a day off from his job. Not because he’s not offered days off, but because he simply gets irritated when he has nothing to do with himself. Tony decides that one of the days he’s off is the perfect time to come knocking on his door.

Happy opens it with his usual grumpy demeanor, surprise flickering in his eyes before going back to normal. He frowns, then nods in greeting, “Boss.”

“Happy,” Tony smirks, taking off his sunglasses.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Happy then asks, his nose scrunched. 

“What? I’m not allowed to visit my good friend?” Tony asks. That’s not all there is to it, of course. And he’d probably not be here if it wasn’t for his and Pepper’s conversation from the day prior and later on, her nagging when he tried to back out. Tony knows exactly why he is here, but that doesn’t mean he wants to admit it.

Like expected, Happy narrows his eyes and Tony and then sighs. “Come in, then. But I’ve got a meeting in an hour so you can’t stay too long.”

“An AA meeting,” Tony says. It’s not a question but rather a statement.

“Yes, Tony. An AA meeting,” Happy raises a brow, looking back at his boss as he leads him to the living room. “We had this conversation, nearly two decades ago. I’m an alcoholic, it’s nothing new.”

“Yes,” Tony says, pointing at nothing in particular. He pauses, trying to find the right words – or rather the will to say them – and then, “That’s something we have in common. ‘Cause… You know, apparently I’m an alcoholic, too.”

At this, Happy’s expression softened in a way only Happy could pull off. He hums, sitting down on one of the couches, “That’s… true.” Tony can hear the uncertainty in Happy’s voice, not because he’s skeptical of whether or not Tony is an alcoholic, but because Tony’s actually admitting it out loud.

“I know I’ve said some things about these meetings in the past when you’ve suggested them to me,” Tony says, fiddling with his hands. He feels nervous for some reason. He’s never nervous. “That I’m too good for them, or they’re a waste of my time. That’s obvious… not true. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I would like to come to one of the meetings with you. If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Happy nods immediately. He doesn’t say anything else or ask any questions. Partially because of the whole boss and employee dynamic and also because that’s just how Happy is. So Tony continues talking himself because he’s found he’s good at that.

“I found Peter,” Tony informs him. Happy looks shocked for a moment but he quick;y schools his face. “Well. He’s not exactly Peter. He goes by Peter and on a technical level he is. But he has no memory of his life with his aunt and uncle. HYDRA took that away and replaced it with something else entirely. He’s got a Russian accent and is kind of snarky. I haven’t told May I found him because he told me not to. Which is kind of making me feel like a horrible person. But if I do tell May, I’ll betray him and he won’t trust me enough to get him the help he needs, you know?”

Happy opens his mouth and closes it. “That’s … a lot.”

“Basically what I’m saying is… I’m working on staying sober because I want to help him,” Tony sighs, a dry laugh escaping him, “I care so much and I don’t even know why.”

“That’s not unusual, Boss,” Happy reassures him, “Being sober is just finding other, healthier, things to focus on. I find obsessing over sitcoms to work for me. But most alcoholics want to help other people. Partly to make up for the shit they’ve done and also to make themselves and the person they’re helping feel happy. That’s basically why sponsors are a thing.”

Tony frowns, thinking about Happy’s words, “Doesn’t that feel a bit… selfish .”

“Oh, it is,” Happy nods, “But that’s okay. Because it’s better than being a drunk.”

Tony hums, “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

–

The AA meeting is exactly what Tony expects it to be: a bunch of adults sitting with each other and talking about their issues. And the coffee is horrible.

Tony finds it quite odd, being in a room with a bunch of typical people swarming him asking him for autographs. A few years ago this would’ve made him weirded out. But it’s actually refreshing, he finds. Tony likes listening to people's stories and knowing that he’s not really alone. He’s not the only billionaire or superhero, nor is he the only alcoholic.

The meeting's leader has them sit in a circle and introduce themselves, and when it’s Tony’s turn he looks over to Happy, who nods. The man sucks in a breath and sits up straighter in his chair, “Hello. I’m Tony; and I’m an alcoholic. I was sober for about a year until recently when I drank again. I thought I had it under control and that I didn’t need any support. But I guess I was wrong. So here I am,” he pauses for a moment and then smirks, “Please don’t tell the press.”

Laughter sounds at his last comment and Tony feels the tension within him loosen just the tiniest bit.

Maybe he can do this.

–

Peter has yet to touch anything in his room.

When Steve left him to his own devices, he simply set his duffle bag down by the door and built another web of beds on one of the corners of the ceiling. Peter finds that if he curls up into a ball he feels just a little safer. Logically, he knows this isn’t true. But that doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

This whole situation just confuses the hell out of Peter. Why do the Avengers, more specifically Stark, want to help him so much? They can’t be stupid enough to see that he’s a lost cause beyond saving. He’s too far gone, he’s killed too many, sinned too many times. And yet… And yet when they look at him and tell him all these things they seem so sincere. Peter can tell when someone is lying, it’s a technique and a survival skill that HYDRA was sure to drill into him. He sees no signs of lying when they try to help him. But Peter can’t help but feel like they know something he doesn’t, that they are master manipulators that can turn lies into truths to even the most skilled HYDRA agent. HYDRA themselves did it all the time, and Peter doesn’t know how many times he’s been on the receiving end of it.

Peter sees past it however. He may not know for sure what they’re lying about, but he surely knows they’re leaving something out. He knows there is some sort of ulterior motive. Surely, no one could want to help him.

He is a tool and a weapon. Not human. Those in HYDRA called him a mutt and a creature, and Peter knows that they are right. He doesn’t doubt it. It doesn’t even hurt him anymore. He’s accepted his role. 

Yes, HYDRA lied about him being purely their creation. Yes, they lied when they told him he was just born all those years ago. And maybe he was born human, maybe HYDRA didn’t give him his powers but simply enhanced them even more. But that doesn’t change what Peter is now: a monster.

Peter hopes the Avengers will all see it soon. Then they will send him back to where he belongs. Maybe he needs to do something. Maybe break a rule. Maybe kill one of them. All of them.

Peter groans when a wave of guilt hits him. He shouldn’t feel guilty; these people kidnapped him. But he finds that he doesn’t want to. Which is weird. Because while Peter has wanted many things, he never really got them. And he knows that HYDRA would want him to kill all of the Avengers if they knew he’s here. This was a one in a million chance, being within the walls of the Avengers Tower, on the floor where all the Avengers slept…

No.

Peter doesn’t want to kill them. 

But he should.

He screams out angrily, hitting his own head. God, what is wrong with him? It’s the goddamn words messing with him. Eight have been said out of the ten. It’s a wonder how Peter is still in control. But then there are thoughts like those, messing with his belief system. Messing with his morals. And the worst part is, Peter can’t even recognize which part is him and which part is the words.  

And god is he angry. In the HYDRA bases, Peter would usually go to one of the training rooms to let it all out. Ivanov was always happy when he did that, or at least as happy as he could get. Peter is sure the Avengers have a training room somewhere in here, but if this is anything like HYDRA, he isn’t allowed to leave his room without permission. 

So he does the next best thing and grabs a vase on the dresser and throws it as hard as he possibly can.

“Woah there!” a voice sounds. Peter looks over to see Stark standing in the doorway, his eyebrows raised and rubbing at his temple. “Look. I haven’t given you any rules yet. But I think no breaking things should be one of them.”

The word no is at the tip of his tongue but no matter how much he tries, it won’t come out. “Yes, sir,” he chokes out. Peter squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at his arm, backing up into the wall.

“Peter. Peter. Look at me,” Stark says gently. And Peter does, only to find Stark many steps closer, his hand reaching out to grab his shoulder. He sees hesitation in the older man’s eyes as he pulls away. “It’s okay to be angry. You deserve to be angry. I don’t know what you went through with HYDRA but I can imagine it’s something to be angry about.”

Peter’s breath hitches at the words. “HYDRA is my home,” he whispers shakily.

Stark’s eyes flash with something Peter cannot read, “The thing is, Peter, it’s not .”

Peter, on some level, knows these words have some truth to them. “Well, I don’t have a home. Not anymore.”

Stark seems like he has something to say but before he can open his mouth, Peter pushes past him and goes into the bathroom connected to the bedroom. He slides down the door and a sob begins to lurch out of him.

“Peter, please come out,” Stark calls, “You don’t need to shut me out. I want to help you. Not hurt you.”

You’re a monster, Peter, a voice whispers, You are made to kill. Not to love.

 “You need to trust me, okay?” Stark tells him, “Just think about it. “Just accept my help.”

And, oh, does Peter want to.

–

“You must be Peter.”

FRIDAY had convinced Peter to come and get breakfast from the kitchen. He didn’t have the energy to deny, and his stomach hurt with hunger anyway, it was a curse from his powers. So he groggily stepped into the kitchen, ignoring his messy hair and the piece of web that is stuck to his pant leg from the new web-made bed he slept in. Only, FRIDAY never warned him of the possibility of someone being in the kitchen. Even though he probably should’ve just assumed there would be. 

Peter flinches at the sound of the other person.

“Did I startle you?” the man asks. Peter looks up and looks into dark brown eyes, which in Peter’s books, show nothing but sincerity and lack of sleep. The man reaches out his hand, “Sorry. I’m Sam Wilson.”

Peter narrows his eyes and questions if this is some sort of trick. Maybe when he takes this Sam Wilson’s hand, he’ll be electrocuted into unconsciousness. When Sam realizes that he isn’t taking his hand, he awkwardly pulls back. “Right, so, um… You can take a seat if you’d like. I’m almost done with making breakfast. The others should be down soon, as well.”

“The others?” Peter questions.

“Damn, Tony wasn’t lying about that accent of yours. It’s just as thick as Wanda’s,” Sam chuckles, “But yeah, there’s Nat, Clint, Thor, Bucky. Maybe Wanda and Vision if they haven’t already left. And you've met Bruce, Steve, and of course, Tony.”

“Right, Tony,” Peter mutters, sitting down in one of the chairs.

He can sense Sam’s amusement from a mile away. The man pulls a carton of orange juice out of the fridge, “Not a fan of the old Tony Stark? Orange juice?”

Peter nods, then, “He’s a bit… much. Kind of annoying.”

“The first part, yes. Tony is a lot. But it grows on you,” Sam tells him, pouring him a glass and setting it in front of him, “But annoying? That’s actually kind of refreshing to hear. Most find him charming .”

“Really?” Peter scrunches his nose, “I don’t see it.”

Sam laughs brightly just as Stark walks in. The billionaire raises a brow, “What? What are we talking about?”

“Oh, nothing. The kid just called you annoying, though, then practically laughed in my face when I told him some find you charming,” Sam smirks.

Stark mocks a gasp, grabbing a mug from the cupboard, “Okay, first of all: most find me charming, actually. And second of all, wow kid, you’ve really got a snarky sense of attitude.” 

Peter simply sips at his orange juice and doesn’t respond. 

“FRIDAY, are they all up yet?” Sam asks. 

“They’re all up and getting ready for the day, Mr. Wilson,” FRIDAY informs him, “Except for Mr. Barnes. Mr. Rogers is trying to coax him out of bed as we speak.”

“And that’s FRIDAY’s more polite way of saying, they’re getting at it ,” Stark snorts.

“ Tony , there’s a kid right next to you,” Sam hisses. 

“Eh, it’s okay,” Peter shrugs, “Harry always said that sex is just a good way to get information out of somebody. I never tried it, but he sure did. And it worked.”

Peter’s met with silence. “What? I said I never did it. I have other tactics.”

“It’s just…” Tony shakes his head, “Nothing.”

“If you say so,” Peter shrugs, not believing him for a second.

A beat passes, and then another, “Who’s Harry ?” Ah, there it is.

“No one important,” Peter shakes his head. He doesn’t really want to think too much about his old best friend. It hurt too much to think about the person Harry became and how Peter abandoned him without a goodbye. “Just drop it.”

Stark sighs, looking down into his mug of coffee. Peter watches him carefully, memorizing each one of the man’s features. He always seems to be in a nice shirt if not a graphic tee of some kind. He has a neat goatee and some lines on his face, showing age. Peter decides he’s not ugly or anything like that. Stark seems to notice him staring and looks up, but Peter is quick to look away. 

“Good morning, boys,” a female voice says. Peter looks up and recognizes it to be Natasha Romanoff, more known as Black Widow. Peter has heard his fair share of stories of the Red Room, where she was trained, and knows it to be very similar to HYDRA. Peter wonders how she betrayed them so easily and became such a hero. 

Behind her is Clint Barton, who has hearing aids in his ears that are colored bright purple and a warm smile on his face. Peter doesn’t know too much about him, other than that he’s known as Hawkeye and is good with a bow and arrow.

The two of them are followed by Thor and Bruce and then Wanda and Vision. Peter is sure to observe all of them and pick up on any important details about them. He finds that Thor has a loud laugh, Wanda is quiet but smirks at any jokes she finds funny, and Vision is very proper and precise. 

“Steve and Buck can get their food when they finally come down,” Sam announces, setting plates down in front of him.

“Ah, what excellent french toast!” Thor smiles as he takes a bite, “You midgardians have excellent food.”

“Thank you, Thor,” Sam pats the man’s shoulder, taking a seat next to him.

“So, Peter Parker,” Natasha declares from across the table, “You’ve healed quite well. And you’re a lot calmer when you’re not threatening everyone’s lives.”

Nastasha, Peter has found, can be very blunt.

“Nat,” Bruce warns, looking between her and Peter.

Peter simply shakes his head, signaling he’s not offended. He leans over the table and smiles, “The offer still stands.”

“Oh, I like this one!” Natasha smiles, purely delighted. Peter can’t say he’s offended by her lack of being threatened. After all, this is the Black Widow he’s talking to. If anything, she’d be her favorite Avenger if he had to choose one. Not that he’d do that. Only, she’s just really badass.

Clint snorts. “Maybe he can join your club.”

“I’m really questioning whether or not Pete here needs to join your assassins club,” Stark raises a brow, but Natasha ignores him.

“There’s always room for more,” Natasha shrugs, “We talk about the people we were forced to kill, the ones we weren’t. The trauma from it all. It sounds depressing but there are snacks. It’s just me and Bucky and occasionally Wanda, so you’re more than welcome to join. Oh, speaking of which. Hi Bucky. Hi Steve.”

“Have a good time?” Stark smirks, receiving glares from the couple. 

“Whatever,” the brunette man mumbles, plopping down in a seat. Peter feels a sense of familiarity, his eyes roaming the figure of the man. A metal hand reveals itself from beneath his sleeve and Peter’s breath hitches. It’s the Winter Soldier. The very man they modeled him after. Who is supposed to be dead, according to Ivanov, or rather terminated.

“You will become the next Winter Soldier; the better Winter Soldier,” Ivanov had told him all those years ago.

The Winter Soldier, or Bucky as they call him, looks over at Peter and they lock eyes. The boy pushes away his sense of fear and pushes his food away, “You’re the Winter Soldier.”

Peter sees the bobbing of Bucky’s adams apple as he swallows, “Yep. That’s me.”

“Peter…” he hears Stark say, but he ignores him.

“It’s a shame you betrayed HYDRA,” Peter says, his voice firm, even as his hand shakes, “You were excellent. Don’t worry, though. They created something better.” Me, he leaves out.

Peter is met with silence. Everyone stares at him with disbelief and something he can only describe as fear. He meets eyes with Bucky once more before standing up to leave.

Chapter Text

Happiness is a butterfly

Try to catch it, like, every night

It escapes from my hands into moonlight

– Happiness is a Butterfly, Lana Del Rey

Stark’s attempts to lure Peter out of his room are laughable at best.

Of course, they work, much to Peter’s dismay. Not because he wants to leave his room, but because he feels some sort of internal tug inside of him, urging him to listen to the man. Still, that doesn’t mean Peter doesn’t find Stark to be annoying in an unrelenting way. 

Two days pass of Stark knocking at his door for every meal, and sometimes simply because he feels like talking to the boy. Honestly, Peter doesn’t really understand the man’s interest in him or why he acts like he’s the most important, amazing thing on the planet. Peter supposes it may be the broken arm, which only contradicts itself, for he’s the one who broke it in the first place. Even if he wasn’t conscious at the time, and was stuck inside his mind trying to grasp at any glimpse of control, Peter can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt when he sees the arm sling. He hasn’t mentioned it to Stark or apologized and luckily the man hasn’t either, but that doesn’t mean Peter doesn’t feel a little bit nauseous when he sees it. 

It’s a reminder of what he can do and what power he holds over others. That Peter can do much worse than breaking an arm. He can kill and has killed hundreds of times; and, yes, in the moments of those kills he relishes in it, but otherwise it’s like a punch in the gut.

So why is Stark so set on gaining Peter’s trust? The boy couldn’t answer that question, even though he’s thought about it a million times over. And that scares the hell out of him.

Peter can’t remember a time at HYDRA where anyone took such a kind sort of interest in him. Except Harry Osborn. He recalls the boy in a brief, hurtful sort of way. The kind smile of the young boy, who as far as Peter can remember, was the first person to ever be truly kind to him. Peter remembers how they shared the passion of wanting to learn, and the tiny competition they had of seeing who could speak each language the fastest. They never picked a winner, but they both seemed to tie with one another. Then he remembers how Harry’s smiles turned to smirks and the happiness in his eyes dulled as he ages. Norman Osborn took something away from that boy. Maybe not his will to make his own decisions like he did with Peter, but he certainly took his hope and loving soul.

Peter mourns the younger Harry. Not the one he drank on the roof with, even if that was a lot of fun at the time. No, he misses the Harry that saw him as human and stood up for him when no one else wanted to. 

Then Robert and MJ came along, offering him the same sort of comfort. But just like fate, Robert died and MJ moved on. And, oh, did it hurt Peter. Every shred of happiness that comes his way is torn away mere moments later and he’s practically laughed at. He doesn’t deserve nice things. No creature like him deserves nice things. But still, he was given them anyway, and the pain of losing it all was worse than not having them at all.

So it’s only safe that Peter assumes the same of the Avengers. Even if their intentions are pure and kind hearted, who's to say they’ll stick around. Even if Stark wants to stay by his side, the world isn’t always so kind. Peter attracts disasters, for he is a disaster himself; an abomination. Stark and all the Avengers are better off without him. If only they’d just see that.

Peter shifts around on his webs, groaning at the uncomfortableness that has yet to settle. Giving up, he jumps down to the ground, landing effortlessly on his feet, his fingertips of one hand touching the ground before he straightens out. Peter soundlessly makes his way to his duffle bag and pulls out his most recent journal and a pen.

The thoughts that are running in his mind are out of control. Clicking his pen, Peter ignores how it all consumes him and he does the one thing he knows how to do:

He writes it all down.

– 

“Kid. I can tell when someone hasn’t been sleeping,” Bruce tells him at his next check up. 

Stark has been insistent on Bruce making sure his health is where it should be after the whole fiasco of them even finding him in the first place. Peter rolls his eyes at any mention of it because he obviously has a healing factor and is fine on his own. Still, Stark won’t relent. And neither will Bruce, it seems.

At his lack of response, Bruce sighs. “Look, Peter. You’re not the only one with this problem. Tony’s dealt with insomnia his whole life, Bucky has night terrors at least once a week, and I sure as hell have had my own sleepless nights. Just humor me. Have you always had this problem? Or is it a new thing?”

“It’s hard to sleep when you constantly have a tingle at the back of your neck,” Peter bites out, his nails digging into the cushion of the hospital bed. 

“A tingle?” Bruce questions.

“Like I told you when I first got here,” Peter says, slowly losing his patience, “Precognition. A tingle at the back of my neck; usually when danger is around the corner. At HYDRA… It never went away. That messed with my sleeping habits enough but I got used to it. Here… it’s gone. There’s no tingle, and its absence is louder than its presence.”

“You never mentioned that,” Bruce frowns. He closes his eyes and lightly shakes his head, “Kid you need to start telling me these things. I can only help what I know is there. You’re wrists and the bandages you keep over them, I don’t understand. You’ve got to share your abilities Peter.”

And Bruce is right, Peter knows that. Of course he does. So he pushes back his sense of ego and sighs, “I can produce webs. I didn’t always have the ability, but just before I ran away they added it. They were going to wait until they had a less painful way of doing it but then I messed up a mission, got the boss's son injured. So they did it anyway. They’re almost back together, but they still get a little bloody sometimes. Even with my healing factor.”

Bruce is silent for a moment as he writes something down, then he gives him a comforting smile. “Thank you, Peter. That’s a good first step.”

At this, Peter swallows, not sure how to respond.

“Let me just take a look at your wrists real quick,” Bruce says, “I’ll get an idea of what we’re working with and you can go back to whatever it is you do here. Okay?”

Peter hesitates, then nods. He holds out his wrists and Bruce unwraps them. The man snaps a few photos and writes some things down. There’s no judgment on his face. Or disgust. Burce just simply wraps them back up and smiles. “Thank you. You’re free to go.”

Peter purses his lips and nods. Bruce is nice, he decides. 

Later, just before dinner, Peter rips out one of the pages of his journal and writes down all of his abilities. Healing factor, precognition, organic webbing, enhanced durability, metabolism, and strength, wall crawling. And then, just to clarify, allergic to peppermint and unable to thermoregulate. Everyone greets Peter as he sits down at the dining room table. Peter doesn’t give much recognition, but instead pulls out the folded up piece of paper and holds it out to Bruce. Stark looks at him questioningly as Bruce reads out his hasty handwriting. The doctor looks up at him and gives him a smile that Peter can only describe as proud.

A strange sort of feeling bubbles up inside of Peter, one he isn’t too familiar with, and it sings within him.

–

Sleepless nights still haunt Peter, even when Bruce gives him melatonin that beats his enhanced metabolism. Sure, he can maybe get an hour of sleep in, but he still wakes up at two in the morning, energy dully igniting inside of him.

He tries sleeping in the actual bed and finds it to be not much better. So he sits in the middle of it, his knees pulled to his chest and his hands pulling at his hair. He continues to do so for ten minutes before he gets fed up with it. 

Peter bounces out of the bed and heads into the bathroom. He turns the water on to the coldest setting, that being what he’s used to. He pulls off his shirt and pauses when he sees his reflection in the mirror. It still startles him sometimes, how much he’s able to see what he looks like within the walls of the Avengers Tower. 

He’s muscular, compared to the scrawniness he had when he was younger. And he’s broadened just the slightest bit after Sam’s more nutritional diet. Peter’s hair is growing out a bit too long, but he ignores it, pushing it back. And the scars… Well they’re something else entirely. And something he’d rather not think about.

Shaking his head, Peter strips out of the rest of his clothes and steps into the shower. The cold water hits his back and he shivers. What’s cold for the average person is even colder for him with his enhancements. It was always a hurdle for Peter on missions, because no one in HYDRA seemed to care when he was freezing his ass off unless it jeopardized the mission, and in their opinions, it rarely did. Peter turns around and faces the shower faucet and stares at it. Nothings stopping him from taking a hot shower. At the HYDRA bases, it wasn’t even an option, but here… Peter reaches out and turns it up to nearly the hottest setting and relaxes as the water falling around him warms up to a good temperature. Just because he can.

Needless to say, it’s the best shower he has ever had.

When Peter steps out of the shower and gets dressed it’s just after three a.m.. He can’t even help but let a frustrated groan escape him.

“Peter,” FRIDAY says gently, just nearly startling the boy, “You are not limited to this room; you’re allowed to explore. If there is somewhere you’re not permitted to, I will simply let you know.”

And Peter finds this fact odd. If he’d so much as taken one step out of his room in one of the HYDRA bases, the guards would’ve tackled him to the ground and harmed him. Here, there aren’t even any guards by his door. Peter licks his lips, stepping closer to the door. He reaches out for the handle then pulls back.

You’re allowed to do it, he tells himself. It’s just like him taking a hot shower. If he’s allowed and has the option, why not take it?

So he does. Peter opens the door slowly and slips out of his room. He looks around the dark empty hallway and listens to the sounds of snores within the rooms surrounding him. Peter also hears two voices from Steve’s room. Bucky must be in there, he realizes. But he’d rather not think of the Winter Soldier, or be around him for that matter.

Peter doesn’t exactly go anywhere he hasn’t been. Instead he walks around until he finds himself in the kitchen. The lights are already on, just dimmed, and shuffling and humming can be heard from inside. For a moment, Peter thinks it’s Sam, but as he listens to the man’s humming, it’s obviously Stark. Peter steps into the entryway and watches as Stark pours something hot into a mug and listens to music coming quietly from his phone.

“And I never saw you coming,” Stark sings softly. Peter cringes at the sound. It compares to nails on a chalkboard, and yet the man appears to be enjoying himself. “And I’ll never be the same. This is a state of– Oh my god!”

Stark jumps when he notices Peter’s presence and nearly spills his drink. The boy snorts. 

“Peter! I didn’t know you were up,” Stark breaths, a smile lingering on his face. Peter doesn’t respond, but looks the man up and down, a judgemental eyebrow raised. “Kid, stop looking at me like that and take a seat.”

Peter sighs but does so anyway. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Stark asks. Peter nods in response. “Me neither, kiddo. But don’t worry, hot chocolate does the trick. Most of the time. I’ll pour you a cup. And don’t worry, there’s no peppermint.”

“I– Bruce told you?” Peter asks. But of course he did. It’s not even a question worth asking.

“I need to know these things just as much as he does,” Stark says, setting down a mug in front of Peter. “What if I gave you peppermint by accident.”

Peter mocks a thoughtful look, “Then I’d probably die and be put out of my misery.”

“You’ve got an interesting sense of humor,” Stark says, his eyebrows raised.

The boy tilts his head, “I’m not laughing. Are you?”

“Jesus, kid,” Stark breathes out. “Just… Take a sip of the hot chocolate.”

Peter swallows and picks up the mug pressing it to his lips. He slowly takes a sip and when the flavor hits his mouth he’s delightfully surprised. Stark smiles at his reaction, “It’s good, isn’t it?”

The boy nods, “I’ve never had it before. At least not from what I can remember. I’ve actually been eating a lot of new things here”

Stark frowns slightly at this before turning it into a tight smile, “Well, good thing we have Sam. He’s an excellent cook. Before you know it, you’ll have tried everything. I—”

Peter stops talking when Barnes comes stepping into the kitchen. He hadn’t seen the man since the dinner situation and was avoiding seeing him at all. But there Barnes stands with his eyes locked with Peter’s, an awkwardness covering them both.

Stark clears his throat. “Pete. Bucky.”

Barnes’ eyes look over at Stark. “Right. Sorry. Just grabbing a beer,” he says, opening the fridge with a quick pace, using his metal arm. Peter’s breath sharpens as he watches the man leave the room.

The music continues playing in the background as they fall into silence. Peter takes small sips at his hot chocolate as he listens to the words of the song. Love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right… The song ends and Stark grabs his phone, pausing whichever song was about to come on. The girl’s voice in the song sounds oddly familiar and Peter wonders who it was singing.

“Do you know Queen?” Peter finds himself asking instead.

“Well, I don’t live under a rock if that’s what you’re asking,” Stark smirks. He types out something on his phone before pressing play. “Bohemian Rhapsody has always been a favorite of mine.” 

Is this the real life?

Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide. 

No escape from reality…

–

It turns out that the Avengers are the most difficult group of people to piss off.

He’s distanced himself, gave them attitude, practically threatened Barnes, and has no overall not been very kind. But still, they won’t send him home. And Stark, most certainly, isn’t giving up on him.

This whole situation is a joke, Peter thinks. He ran away from HYDRA on his own will, only to get Robert killed, only proving that his presence meant destruction and that HYDRA has been the only place where he can contain it. Peter just wants to go home.

Peter can tell the Avengers are nice people, even if that means they’re aggravating as hell. But if they get hurt, too, Peter won’t know what to do.

So he has to get kicked out. He has to prove he’s a lost cause. But nothing works.

Peter opens the fridge one night when he can’t sleep. This time Stark isn’t there. He pulls out a bottle of beer just like Bucky had grabbed. He sighs, remembering all the times he and Harry got drunk. Peter always liked it, it helped him forget the things he’d done. 

Maybe it will show the Avengers his true colors. Maybe they’ll send him home.

Peter is HYDRA-made, after all. Perhaps they didn’t create him biologically, but they still formed who he is on the inside.

A killer, a monster. A HYDRA agent.

Chapter Text

Spending my last coin 

So someone will tell me it'll be ok

– The Prophecy, Taylor Swift

Ever since Bruce shared the enhancements Peter wrote down on the sheet of paper, it’s all Tony’s been able to think about.

He remembers the day that he went to Ned Leeds house, when the boy told him Peter was bitten by a spider just before his disappearance at Oscorp. Tony knows Peter doesn’t remember this, but instead thought HYDRA gave him his powers, and though he's found this to be untrue, he still doesn’t know the whole truth. Tony also knows that HYDRA did add to his enhancements, such as giving him organic webs.

The whole thing just makes Tony sick to his stomach. This is a kid. A kid whose gone through so much hurt and torture to get these powers he never even asked for. What the hell was Oscorp doing with their experiments on radioactive spiders and their shitty security that an eleven year old managed to get bit by one? And isn’t HYDRA against enhanced individuals? It’s believable to think they’d take an already enhanced person and use them to their advantage, but then one looks at Peter Parker – and hell, Bucky Barnes – and that throws that explanation out the window. 

Even now that Tony found Peter – or rather fate made them crash right into one another – there are still so many unanswered questions. So many things that don’t add up. Carter Ivanov. Norman Osborn.

Oscorp was one of those things. More specifically Norman Osborn. It’s a public known fact that Osborn is Tony’s biggest competitor in business; that Oscorp is placed second just underneath Stark Industries when rating most successful tech corporations. Osborn and Tony have always butt heads, always despised each other. But Osborn is just a creep. He’s rarely seen in public, most of his employees never saw even a glance of him in their ten years of working at Oscorp. From the very beginning, Tony has gotten a weird feeling about that man, and he just can’t help but wonder if he has anything to do with Peter and HYDRA taking him. Even if he just played the smallest part.

“Boss, it is three in the morning,” FRIDAY reminds him, “You’ve been up for nearly forty-eight hours.”

“Just a little bit more, baby girl,” Tony says, rubbing at his goatee as he scrolls through articles on Norman Osborn. He clicks his pen when he comes across the fact that Osborn has a son who he keeps hidden from the spotlight, but still intends to make him heir to the throne. Harry Osborn, apparently. That’s a piece of information Tony never knew. He doesn’t know how much relevance it exactly holds in this situation, but he writes it down anyway.

“Sir–” FRIDAY tries, but Tony cuts her off. 

“FRIDAY, honey. I appreciate your concern for my sleep schedule even if I never exactly programmed it into you, but please will you be quiet. I’m trying to get answers here.”

“Sir,” FRIDAY repeats, a bit more urgently, “It’s Peter. He took some beers from the fridge. He’s on the balcony and–”

Tony stands up immediately, his heart dropping, “I get the picture.”

Ignoring the aches in his body, Tony storms out of his lab and jogs down the hallway. “Peter!?” he calls as he makes it to the living room, where he pushes open the glass doors to the balcony. “Peter, what the hell are you doing!?”

Peter is laying on one of the lounge chairs with a half empty bottle in his hand and five empty ones scattered on the pavement floor beside him. When he sees Tony he coughs a little bit, but Tony can hear a mildly amused tone to it. “Oh, hey, Mister Stark. Would you like one?”

Tony clears his throat, his breath shallow as he looks at the bottle Peter is holding out to him. Immediately he snatches it out of his hand, as well as all the other ones and throws them into the trash can just near the sliding door. Admittingly, it’s too small to get his point across, but still, it proves his point. “

“ Hey !” Peter whines, “What was that for?”

“You’re drunk, Peter!” Tony shouts, “You’re fifteen years old and you’re drunk out of your fucking mind! I just– I can’t– Why ?”

“Feels good,” Peter mumbles, his head falling back against the headrest. His words are slightly slurred, but not enough to make them completely incomprehensible. “Plus, I don’t really get hangovers. So what’s the damage?”

“What’s the damage?” Tony repeats slowly, “I don’t know, maybe the risk of alcohol poisoning ? Or maybe you’d fall off the balcony and not be able to use your powers to save yourself? And don’t even get started on your death wish jokes you have going on.”

Peter merely scoffs. “I did it all the time at HYDRA! It makes me forget. Just… Give me the bottle back.”

“No, Peter,” Tony shakes his head, his voice firm, “You can’t– I thought we’ve made progress. I mean, god, you’ve been eating dinner with us, you gave Bruce the list of your abilities. I know those are just two things, but I thought maybe you’d feel better enough that you didn’t have to resort to all of this ,” Tony waves his hands around the balcony.

“You just don’t get it, Mister Stark,” Peter sighs.

“What? What do I not get?” Tony pleads, “Just tell me kid.”

“I don’t hate you,” Tony hears a soft mumble from the boy's mouth. Peter is now sitting up criss-crossed, and his head in his hands. “I know I’m nasty towards all of you, especially you, but I don’t entirely mean it.”

Tony’s face softens and he kneels down next to Peter, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, urging him to continue.

“You– you just don’t see it. None of you do,” Peter whispers, “You can’t help me. I’m too far gone. I’ve killed too many people. I’ve done too many horrible things. I don’t deserve respect. I’m– I’m a mutt. A waste of space and your–”

“Hey, hey,” Tony hushes him, his hand cupping the boy's cheek so he can gently turn it to face him. And, god, does his heart hurt at these self deprecating words. “Look at me, kiddo. That right there, that’s HYDRA talking. And what have we established about HYDRA? They’re liars. None of that is remotely true.”

Peter shakes his head, pulling Tony’s hand off, but leaves it in his own, “HYDRA has its good moments. And– I have killed too many people. If you knew how many deaths I have on my hands, how I killed all of them, you’d hate me. Just as much as I hate myself.”

“No, Pete, I wouldn’t,” Tony whispers, shaking his head, “And I can say that with genuine truth because you know what? I love Natasha; she’s like a sister to me. She had a similar bringing up like you, and all of us Avengers still love her just the same.”

“And Bucky?” Peter asks, hesitation clear in his voice.

Tony chuckles, “Well, he and I didn’t exactly click when we first met, but yeah. We grew to love each other in the end.”

He can’t tell if this answer satisfies Peter, but he suspects Peter can’t tell himself. But Tony can say with certainty that this conversation has been good for the both of them. He knows Peter is drunk right now, and probably wouldn’t be saying these things(calling him Mister Stark instead of just Stark) if he weren’t. But as they say, drunk words are sober thoughts.

“I want to forget,” Peter says, his voice small.

“I know, trust me,” Tony sighs, “But the best option is moving forward. You can muster up all the good in you – which I can tell it a lot, kiddo – and start making the right choices. You can let yourself be happy, let yourself be loved. You just have to let us all in, okay?”

Peter is silent for a moment. But then he sniffles and a single tear falls down his cheek. Tony hates the feeling of seeing him cry, but he also knows he needs it. Peter nods, “Okay. I’ll try.”

Tony practically beams.

–

Peter isn’t surprised when all the alcohol is hidden away from him the next day.

His plan hadn’t worked. In fact, Peter is pretty sure he just dug an even deeper hole for himself to lay in. Peter hates the things he admitted to Stark last night, he’s embarrassed that he let all his emotions flood out like that. If Mister Osborn or Ivanov could see him now, if Harry could see him now, they’d all be ashamed. Peter has turned into something he does not recognize. Something more human.

He’s not human, he reminds himself idly, but maybe lett of a mutt. Less of a weapon.

And for a reason he does not know, Peter finds himself thinking over Stark’s words. Maybe letting himself live and heal on his own accords is better than becoming a mindless drone for HYDRA’s sake.

“Hey, Peter,” Natasha comes up behind him as he eats the last of his breakfast, “We’re about to go train, want to join? It’ll be fun.”

Peter frowns in consideration when he turns around to find Natasha, Steve, Sam, Clint, and Barnes in a group in front of him. “Fun?” he questions, practically sounding dumb. Peter is certain training can't be fun, not if it’s anything like HYDRA’s training. The boy only recalls one good moment, being when he met Robert, but other than that it was all strict and professional.

Clint shrugs, “Gotta keep ourselves entertained while we do it, yeah?”

Steve then nods in agreement, “Yeah, and we’d really like to see what you got, buddy.”

Peter reminds himself not to appear too eager and sets his fork down. He nods, keeping a straight face, “Okay, sure. Just let me change.”

After changing into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, FRIDAY leads him to the training room where the others are setting up. They all move in a messy sort of rhythm, but it still somehow works. He watches as they move around, still and quiet. “Where’s Stark?” he blurts out.

They’re all quiet for a moment, and Peter notices them sharing glances. Why? Peter is not sure. Sam smiles at him, “He doesn’t usually train with us. Except for the monthly training session we require all Avengers to go to. But it’s different with Tony, he can rely on his suits. Thor can rely on his hammer, Bruce can rely on the green guy… You get the point. But Clint and Nat mostly use their physical strengths, and mechanical wings can only get me so far, y’know?”

Peter feels a pang of something at the idea of Stark being elsewhere. He opts to ignore it however and lets Sam wrap his wrists for protection. 

“Okay let's just do the usual warm-up,” Natasha says, “Peter, follow along, it’s easy to remember.”

And it is. Peter finds their routines to be a lot more predictable, which gives Peter room to focus on his form and technique. And, weirdly enough, he finds himself actually having some fun with it, just like they said. Peter stands at the punching bag, his fists in the ready position. He closes his eyes for a moment, remembering everything HYDRA taught him.

“Okay, show us your skills, Peter,” Clint encourages.

Peter purses his lips and begins punching. The Avengers start to cheer as he keeps going. He breathes into each punch and lets the sensation course through his body. Peter takes a deep breath and pulls away for a moment.

“One last big one; you got it,” he hears Natasha’s voice say.

And so he does, putting all his strength into it. This time, however, the punching bag bursts open and slides across the room, before it crashes loudly against the wall and sand spreads around it. Peter’s heart stops for a moment as he takes a small step back, his hands falling at his sides. 

He hears a whistle and a few claps, “Damn, kid, that was a brand new bag, too.”

Suddenly everything sounds like it’s underwater and Peter’s breaths become short. Did he really just do that? Did he really just break new equipment? Just breathe, he tells himself, just breathe. But for some reason, he just can’t.

“Peter? Peter!” he hears someone call. Maybe Natasha? Things become a bit more clear and he sees Natasha just beside him, her hands on his shoulder in order to guide him to the bench. “Peter. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry ,” Peter says shakily.

Natasha hushes him, “Don’t apologize, okay? No one is mad. There are plenty more punching bags where that came from. It’s okay; just breathe with me. In and out. In and out. There you go, Паук.”

Peter shakes his head, his blood turning cold at the name. “No. No. Don’t call me that. I can’t no–”

“Паук?” Natasha asks, gently, “Okay. That’s fine. I won’t.”

Peter is quiet for a long moment, trying to find his center. God, when did he become so soft ? It’s like a virus eating him alive from the inside out. It’s as if since he let some of his emotions out, the rest followed like a downpour, drowning him in his internal thoughts and beliefs. It hurts. But he soon finds the courage to speak, “I broke something in HYDRA, and I got… punished.”

“Shhh. You’re not alone, okay?” Natasha reassures him, “The same thing happened to me in the Red Room when I was just a little younger than you. Being tortured… at any point is hard. It hurts a lot. But you’re not alone. ”

Peter only nods in response. The other Avengers give him space as he stands up, all looking oddly understanding. There’s no judgment, so disgust. Just kind smiles and reassuring eyes. It’s so weird, but so nice at the same time.

“You’re okay?” Natasha asks. Peter nods again and she smiles reassuringly at him. “Okay so next…”

–

“Peter had a panic attack ? And I’m just hearing about this now?” Tony hisses, his eyebrows furrowed at Clint, who sits awkwardly in front of him. “I never even said he could train with you guys in the first place!”

“Natasha said it was because he was scared we’d hurt him for breaking a punching bag,” Clint sighs, “But she had it handled. She calmed him down within minutes.”

“ Minutes is too long,” Tony scoffs.

“Look there’s no need to go all mother hen on us,” Clint says. Tony is about to open his mouth in disagreement, but Cling holds up a finger. “Look, Tony. I’ve been in your position before with Nat. When I found her she acted just like Peter has been acting: cold and distant. Now he’s finally letting his guard down and emotions are bound to flow. Natasha knew what to do because she’s had panic attacks just like his for the same reason as his. No one can understand him like Nat can in that sense. Except for Bucky but–”

“But the kid’s avoiding him like the plague, yeah,” Tony shakes his head, leaning back onto the couch of the living room.

“I believe,” Sam says, as if making a huge entrance, “It’s my turn to pick a movie. And I’m sorta missing my nieces and nephews right now, so I say Star Wars: A New Hope.”

“I feel like we’ve watched that movie a million times,” Natasha groans from the kitchen, pouring some popcorn into a bowl.

“I haven’t,” a small, russian voice says in the entryway. They all turn to see Peter standing there in his pajamas. “Um. I couldn’t sleep and Stark said you have movie nights every Friday so…”

“Of course, come in, kiddo,” Tony smiles encouragingly. He ignores the dreadful feeling at Peter saying he’s never watched Star Wars, but he just has to remind himself the kid’s brainwashed. For now, hopefully.

Peter slowly walks over to the couch and takes a seat next to Tony, criss crossing his legs. Natasha sets a bowl of popcorn on his lap and takes the seat on the other side of him. Tony notices Peter watching her intensely for a few moments before tearing his gaze away. Then he looks over at Tony and they meet eyes, and Tony swears he can see the tiniest smile pulling at the boy’s lips. 

The movie starts playing, the Star Wars theme song playing into their ears. Throughout the movie, Peter watches the screen, rarely pulling his eyes away. And when Tony looks over at Peter he sees slight reactions, like Peter’s eyes going wide and his jaw dropping slightly. But it disappears as fast as it came, being replaced with his emotionless face he usually wears. It’s all a mask, Tony knows, but he hates that the kid tries to seal in all his excitement when he’s clearly enjoying the movie.

“So that was a movie?” Peter asks when it ends. Everyone nods, smiling, and Peter smiles, too. Just a little bit. “That was, uh, amazing .”

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from. Twelve Star Wars movies in total,” Tony smirks, his hand placed on Peter’s shoulder.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Bruce says, standing up and stretching, “But I’m ready to go get some sleep.” Everyone agrees, gathering their blankets and heading towards their rooms. Soon, Peter and Tony are the only one’s left in the living room.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” Peter whispers. Tony hears the hesitation in his voice when he says that. The fear that Tony might get mad and tell him to go to his room anyway. But Tony only smiles.

“Do you like science?” he asks.

At this Peter perks up. He doesn’t say much for a few moments, his lips pursed in thought. “I was never really allowed in labs when I was in HYDRA bases. Y’know, my purpose was more going on missions than creating things in the labs. But I read all the books they had on science there and even made up some of my own designs for tech. They’re actually in the journals I have with me.”

“Well, if you’d like to share them with me, I’m all ears, kid,” Tony says, being sure to make the genuinity in his voice evident to Peter’s ears. 

Tony can practically hear the gears turning in Peter’s head as he considers this offer. He realizes that he’s probably one of the first to show any interest in his ideas and finds it odd that he cares enough to ask about them. And Tony, on some level, can understand that feeling. It took years before Howard cared about the creations Tony made. 

“Yeah, you can look at them,” Peter nods slowly. He stands up then nods towards his room, urging Tony to follow him. When they make it inside, Peter pulls out his duffel bag and opens it up, the old zipper loud. He then starts to take out practically a dozen journals, flipping through them until he seems to find the one he’s satisfied with, handing it to Tony. 

The billionaire opens the journal to find that it’s not strictly filled with tech designs but also random passages of writing and random sketches of things and people. Tony’s sure that if it wasn’t all written in neat Russian, Peter wouldn’t be trusting him with it, as it probably holds all of the kid’s deepest thoughts. Soon, he comes across the actual designs, which are made up of many kinds of weapons with their own quirks. It only takes mere seconds for Tony to feel relieved HYDRA never took interest in his ideas, because if they did these weapons would cause mass destruction. Tony doesn’t need to read the Russian words surrounding the designs to figure that out.

“Oh there’s this one, too,” Peter says, handing him a second journal.

This journal is similar to the last. Tony turns the pages, looking at each page with intent, as if breathing it all in. When he comes across a suit, his interest is immediately peaked.

“That’s just some design I made up,” Peter shrugs when he notices what Tony’s looking at, “It’s a lot cooler than the suits HYDRA gave me, with better quirks. Obviously I was never allowed to make it. But…”

“Why don’t… Why don’t we make it?” Tony suggests. To this, Peter’s head snaps up and he looks at Tony with wide eyes. “I don’t really want you on the field anytime soon. But you need to be able to protect yourself. We could make this suit, and in case of emergency, it’d be really handy.”

“Really?” Peter asks.

Tony smiles, “Yeah, kiddo. What do you say? I will show you my lab sometime tomorrow and we can start brainstorming.”

Peter nods, “That’d be… fun .”

Tony ruffles Peter’s curly hair and this time Peter doesn’t duck away. “Just, can I keep this journal for the night? Just so I can get an idea of what materials we need?”

Peter narrows his eyes, distrust written all over his face. But it slowly fades away, “Okay… sure.”

“Thank you,” Tony smiles appreciatively, “Goodnight, kiddo.”

“Goodnight, Mister Stark.”

Tony gives him one last smile before leaving Peter’s room. Immediately he makes his way towards the lab, still looking through all the pages in the journal. When he makes it to his desk, he quickly sits down. He turns to the last page where he finds a sketch of a man, an oddly familiar man. Tony’s heart stops. “FRIDAY… Pull up any images you might have of the HYDRA agent SHIELD has custody of… Ivanov.”

“Of course, boss,” FRIDAY obeys. Images pop up in front of him of the man he fought just a few months back, his icy eyes staring right back at him. 

An exact match.

Chapter Text

There it is a light, I feel it in me

But only, it seems

When the dark surrounds me

– Abbey, Mitski

Peter has made a habit of actually sleeping in his bed. He’s made a handful of other habits as well, just like he did in HYDRA and just like he did when he was staying with Robert Auclair. It’s what Peter does – he adjusts and he adapts to any situation thrown his way.

Tony has seemed to fall within this routine of his. It’s not on purpose, and Peter isn’t sure if either of them consciously noticed until it was already happening. Every morning Peter wakes up in the early hours of the morning, gets ready, and paces around his room while thinking or doing other things to entertain himself until Mr. Stark comes knocking on his door with two mugs of coffee to let him know that Sam is up and making breakfast. He reads, writes, or on this particular morning, he works out by the foot of his bed.

“Seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy…” Peter grunts as Mr. Stark knocks on his door. Peter keeps going, listening for the sound of the man’s heartbeat. When he recognizes it as the billionaire’s, he feels a sense of comfort. “You can come in.”

“Buenos dias, kid– Oh,” Mr. Stark startles when he notices Peter on the ground. “You working out, buddy? You know you can sleep in instead, that’s what most teenagers do during the summer.”

Peter pulls himself up into a standing position, raising a brow. “I thought we already established that I don't fall under the category of ordinary teenagers .” The boy then takes the mug from Mr. Stark and takes a small sip.

Mr. Stark rolls his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. Peter follows, sitting a few inches away from the other. The older man is silent for a moment, clearly trying to find a way to fill said silence. Peter has found that Mr. Stark never shuts up, and can barely function in silence. He also has found that he doesn’t mind.

“Do you… workout every morning?” Mr. Stark settles on.

Peter shrugs, “Not anymore. I would when I was with HYDRA. It took my mind off things.”

Mr. Stark hums in response. Pauses, then, “You’re good, right? If you work out to take your mind off of things and you’re working out now…”

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter insists, lying through his teeth. Because he’s not fine; probably has never been fine. At least from what he can remember. And anyway, nothing in particular has been bothering him lately. It’s more like it’s everything. How everything is fading into the background and being muffled by the joy and laughter that’s the Avengers. How this is probably the happiest he’s ever been, which makes him vulnerable in ways he cannot describe. Mostly, it’s how much it would hurt if it all got torn away from him.

Pete stands up just as Mr. Stark is about to place his hand on his shoulder and sets his coffee on his nightstand. He opens one of the drawers of his dresser and quickly pulls off the sweaty t-shirt he was wearing before. He can feel Mr. Stark’s eyes on him, and more specifically the scars that scatter around his back. And there’s a question of what did they do to you? lingering in the air between the two. But Mr. Stark doesn’t dare to ask it and even if he did, Peter probably wouldn’t know where to begin; and even if he did manage to, he’d never know where to stop.

As soon as the new shirt is pulled on, Peter turns back around. He leans back against the dresser, hands placed firmly on the edges, watching Mr. Stark as he wrings his hands together and stares thoughtfully at the floor. Dread fills the boy as he keeps on staring. Why? Peter can’t say. But it does, and it all feels like a whirlwind of emotions that will never ever stop.

“Kid? Kid ,” Mr. Stark stands up as soon as he notices Peter shaking. Peter feels the man’s hands be placed firmly on his shoulders, “ Shhh. It’s okay. Just another panic attack. You’ll get through it. I’m right here, Pete.”

At this, Peter lets out a sob and buries his face in Mr. Stark’s shoulder. His arms wrap around the other, grasping at the material of his t-shirt. And, oh, does it feel good? To be held with love, to be comforted by the kind words of another. It’s all so foreign to Peter, but maybe he can adapt. It’s what he does, after all.

Peter’s sobs slowly to a stop, and he pulls away just enough so he can look up at Mr. Stark, but is still wrapped in his arms.

“Do you – Do you ever just wake up and just have a feeling that the whole day is going to be shitty?” Peter asks shakily. “It’s like I woke up this morning and I got crushed with the urge to just rot in bed all day because I want nothing to do with anything .”

Mr. Stark lets out a breathy laugh. “Peter. Why do you think I’m such an insomniac? My mindset for the longest time was that if I didn’t go to sleep I wouldn’t have to wake up only to feel just like that. That’s what we do. We convince ourselves if we ignore the feeling, it really isn’t happening. But the hard truth is that it is. It’s okay to have a bad start to a day, kiddo; it’s natural. You just need to let yourself feel that feeling and get through it.”

Peter nods and Mr. Stark cups his cheek in his hands before sliding his hand up and running it through the boy’s curls. Peter subconsciously melts into the touch and Mr. Stark chuckles, making his cheeks go red.

“You like that, don’t you?” Mr. Stark teases.

“Shut up,” Peter mutters, but there’s no bite to it.

–

“Kid, has anyone ever told you how smart you are?”

Peter looks over his shoulder at Mr. Stark who is leaning over him to see the math he’s done for the mechanics of the suit they’re making. He looks back at the construction paper and pushes back a blush. “It’s nothing, really. I just read a lot.”

At this, Mr. Stark scoffs. “Pete, most can’t learn from just reading and then get their first try when they actually get hands-on experience. And I’m sure you didn’t exactly get a proper education over… there.”

“HYDRA?” Peter raises a brow, “You can say it, y’know.”

“Right,” Mr. Stark clears his throat. The man pulls away and goes to pull up a hologram, which shows an almost real-looking version of the final product they intend to create. Peter slowly stands up to get a closer look, practically gawking in amazement. When he realizes his jaw is slightly ajar he quickly snaps it shut and hides any other signs of interest he may be showing. “I’m thinking we start with a simpler material first. Something like spandex but stronger to avoid ripping. Then maybe we can make a second suit with the same material as my Iron Man suit for more protection in more dangerous scenarios. I’m really hoping you won’t need either of these, but it’s good to be prepared.”

Peter licks his lips. “You’re hoping I won’t need the suits like ever ?”

“Well, yeah,” Mr. Stark shrugs, “I want you to be safe, kiddo. It may be hard to believe, but I do care about your well-being.”

“I know, I just–” Peter sighs, trying to find the words, “I want to help. You and the others, I mean. On missions. Don’t you think I’d be useful? I’m a good asset.”

“Of course you are,” Mr. Stark smiles. “But right now, I don’t think that’s the best idea. We need to give it some time. Then we’ll talk about it.”

Peter frowns but doesn’t argue.

It’s soon that they come to a point where a break is necessary and they make their way to the living room. Some of the other Avengers including Natasha, Sam, Clint, and Thor are huddled on the couch playing a game. Peter watches as they scream at each other declaring that the other sucks and they’re going to win. He raises a brow.

“Are they always like this?” he questions.

Mr. Stark sighs and pats him on the shoulder, “I’m afraid so… Hey, losers!”

Natasha looks up and smiles, “Peter! Hello, dear. Oh, and you’re here, too, Stark.”

Mr. Stark pouts, “Wow. I love to know just how appreciated I am around here.”

“Where’s Bruce?” Peter questions, looking between the two.

“Aw. How sweet,” Natasha smiles. At this, Peter scowls, only making her smile widen. “My lovely boyfriend couldn’t be bothered with a game of Uno. Instead, he’s huddled up in his lab and doing science experiments. As for the others, Steve and Buck are having alone time and Wanda and Vision are packing to go back to their place.”

“I win!” Thor announces loudly, his fists up in the air, “You fool humans, I am victorious!”

“Hey, pipe it down, point break,” Mr. Stark scowls. “Want to show him how it’s done, Pete?”

Peter looks up at Tony and furrows his brows, “I’ve never played before.”

“That’s okay, hon,” Natasha smiles, “We’ll teach you.”

Natasha leads him over to the couch and they sit by the coffee table. Cards are scattered around and Sam starts to shuffle before handing everyone their own deck of cards. The game is really simple, Peter finds, and all he has to do is pick a card that matches the color or number of the card put down by the person in front of them. There isn’t much strategy to it either, only just the luck of whether or not you were given a good deck of cards. 

“Uno,” Peter says, not too loudly. But everyone hears and looks over at him with playful glares.

“Ha!” Tony smiles, “I just want to make it clear that if he wins I also win.”

“In what world does that make sense!?” Clint scoffs.

Mr. Stark tilts his head, “I found him and I’m his favorite.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sam hums, “Peter, who's your favorite?”

Peter mocks a thoughtful look and smiles mischievously. “Bruce.”

Mr. Stark gasps, “This is betrayal, Peter Parker. I will not tolerate this.”

“You can be my third favorite, Mr. Stark,” Peter allows, “After Bruce and Natasha.”

“You little shit!” Mr. Stark puts his hand on his chest, “Come here you!”

Peter laughs as Mr. Stark puts him in a headlock. It doesn’t scare him, not like he thought it would. But he and Harry would play-fight all the time as kids, so he’s not exactly foreign to this concept. In fact, he finds it to be fun.

“I”m glad to see you are all enjoying yourselves,” a voice sounds from the entryway. Peter looks over to see a man with an eye patch stepping out of the elevator and into the living room, two others standing on either side of him. Nick Fury, he reminds himself.

Mr. Stark lets go and Natasha stands up, her arms crossed. “Fury. You hadn’t informed us you were coming over,” she accuses, her chin raised. 

“I told Stark I would come and check how you were doing with our new visitor,” the man says, eyeing Peter. Peter finds himself shrinking into himself and Clint gently places a comforting hand on his back. “I have some questions for you regarding HYDRA, Peter. So, if you’d come with me–”

“What!?” Mr. Stark shouts, “You are not interrogating my kid, Fury. You said you’d come to check on him, that’s it!”

“We’ve had this Ivanov character on our hands for months now, Stark, and he’s not budging,” Fury says firmly. Peter goes cold at the mention of his handler. “Peter is our next best bet at finding a way to take down this organization.”

“What did you just say?” Peter cuts in, “About Ivanov? Does he know I’m here?”

Fury looks back over at him, “You know, Ivanov?”

Mr. Stark looks between the two, “Kid you don't have to–”

Peter huffs out a frustrated huff, “ Does he know I’m here ?” he repeats.

“Well, yes,” Fury shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, “When we were trying to get answers out of him we may have mentioned you.”

A wave of fear crashes over him, “No. No, no, no .”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark tries, going to reach for him.

The boy pulls away and pushes past all of them and heads for his room. He ignores how the living room erupts into chaos and Mr. Stark starts yelling angrily at Fury. Peter very much ignores how Steve and Barnes step out of their room to see what’s going on. He looks at them just for the shortest moment and he and Barnes lock eyes. Peter quickly looks away and opens the door of his room, slamming it shut behind him.

–

Tony cannot say he’s ever been too fond of Nick Fury. But he can say for certain that right now, he’s never hated the man more than he has. 

All the Avengers – excluding Wanda and Vision – sit awkwardly in the living room, sharing glances. Nick Fury and the other two SHIELD Agents stand by the TV muttering under their breaths to one another. The whole situation is awkward and tense, and Tony tries more than anything to not let the anger bubbling up inside of him burst.

“We’re not leaving until we sit down with that boy,” Fury tells them firmly. “We’ve barely got anything on HYDRA and they’ve practically got everything on us. Whatever information Parker can give to us, no matter how big or small, will be extremely helpful to figure out what our next step is going to be.”

Tony scoffs. “You just scared the shit of him, Fury. And now you want him to speak to you? Right away? Who do you think you are you disgusting piece of–”

“What Tony is trying to say, Nick,” Natasha raises a hand, “Is that it’s odd you think you’ll be able to get anything out of him now.”

“You ask him the questions then,” Fury sighs.

“Fury. I know you know that none of us can be the one to interrogate this kid,” Clint says, “He trusts us. He needs that trust. If we try to break Peter down to get what we want out of him, that ruins any sort of trust he has for us. And then what?”

The room erupts into yelling again and at this point, Tony is practically seething in his seat. The audacity this man has. 

“I’ll do it!” Bucky shouts over the yells. Everyone goes silent and looks at him. He shrugs, “That kid doesn’t trust me one bit. I’ll talk to him. I can see if he’ll be comfortable sitting down with Fury, and if not I can try to ask him some questions myself.”

“Do you really think that’ll work?” Bruce wonders, “No offense, Buck, but the kid sorta hates you.”

“I think that’s what he’s getting at,” Steve shakes his head, looking over at his boyfriend. “Pete may avoid him like the plague. But he’s not scared of him. He just hates him because of all of the things HYDRA has beaten into his head. If he gets more angry at Bucky for asking questions or just trying to talk to him, it doesn’t really affect the process we’ve made with the kid in any horrible, unfixable sort of way.”

Tony stares at Bucky, slowly considering this option. He sighs, “If this does go as planned and Peter is okay with being questioned, I want to be there. Or at the very least have live footage of it. I need to make sure he’s okay. Because some people – yes, you, Fury – won’t exactly care what sort of trauma he might relive when asked about certain topics.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Fury nods, “Let’s hope it works.”

“It will,” Tony says simply. He looks over at Bucky and points at him, “It will .”

–

Bucky Barnes knows a thing or two about how hard it is to forgive one’s self. He’s been working at it for a long time, even before he was back in the clutches of his best friend and now mover, Steve Rogers. He can’t imagine it’s been any different for Peter. 

He can easily recognize the signs of trauma within the kid. He knows an ex-HYDRA assassin when he sees one because he was one himself. The scars litter Peter’s body, even though just like Bucky, he has a healing factor that makes it harder for him to scar; which only proves the hurt and agony he must've gone through. And the guilt and defensiveness radiating off the kid are a whole different problem on their own. Peter has killed, Bucky is certain, but he’s not a killer , even if the boy believes he is.

Bucky is also very aware of the dislike Peter has against him. He can’t imagine that HYDRA ever had anything nice to say about him. Not after he betrayed them. So Bucky understands, he understands everything this kid is going through.

“Peter, it’s me, Barnes,” Bucky calls, knocking on the boy’s door, “Can I come in?”

He’s met with a long moment of silence before he can hear shuffling from inside the bedroom. Slowly, the doorknob turns and the door creaks open to reveal a distraught, very annoyed Peter Parker. “What do you want?” he croaks, not too kindly.

Bucky sighs, considering where to go with this. How is he supposed to gain a traumatized teenager’s trust when he’s been taught to hate him for years? “I just want to talk, kid… I know you don’t like me, and I understand. Just give me a chance.”

Peter tilts his head, narrowing his brown eyes, “And why should I do that?”

“Because HYDRA is filled with a bunch of liars,” Bucky shrugs, “You and I both know that. So why should anything they told you about me have to be true?”

“They did tell me you were dead,” Peter allows, shuffling back and forth on his feet. “Clearly, you’re not.”

“Did they?” Bucky laughs, with only a pinch of humor in it. He supposes he isn't exactly surprised. 

Peter nods. “I think they were trying to scare me. To make sure that if I did betray them they’d kill me as well. But here I am.”

“Here you are,” Bucky smirks. “...Look, here’s the deal, kid. Fury wants information and he wants it now. And between you and me, I don’t like that man all that much, either. He doesn’t exactly trust me, or even you, Peter. But you have that valuable information he wants. That we all need to take down HYDRA once and for all. Do you think you’d be willing to do that for us? Sit down with Fury or maybe even just me?”

Peter’s eyes trail to the floor, flashing with thought. He looks back up at Bucky. “Okay. I’ll talk with Fury. I don’t promise much though.”

Bucky smiles, “That’s alright, Peter.”

Peter just barely returns the smile.

Chapter Text

All the skeletons you hide

Show me yours and I’ll show you mine

– Savior Complex

Stepping outside of the Avengers Tower is an odd feeling. Peter hasn’t left the walls of the building since he was brought here unless he were to count the balcony. He looks back at the tall building as he walks between Natasha and Tony and realizes that this is the one place where he has felt safe. Where he hasn’t been in constant panic. And that alone scares Peter more than anything.

Silent surrounds the group, as Nick Fury and a few SHIELD agents to a black car. Tony grumbles as he enters the thing, motioning to Peter for him to slide into the seat next to him. Peter glances around the vehicle in a confused manner. He’s almost too embarrassed to admit that he’s never been in a car except for maybe once or twice for the sake of one of his missions, and even then, the vehicles were never this nice .

“Remind me again why we have to go to the SHIELD base?” Tony cocks his head, which earns him a glare from Natasha.

Fury cranes his head to look back at the trio, “It’s basic protocol, Stark.”

“Ah, yes,” Tony mumbles, “Questioning innocent teenagers is basic protocol. ”

Peter fights back a snort. He can hardly consider himself innocent. But still, Tony remains in the irritated mood he’s been in since Fury arrived and Peter can’t really blame him – and he suspects Natasha can’t either.

The thirty-minute drive is spent in heavy silence. Only the buzzing of the AC, the mumbles of SHIELD agents, and Tony’s impatient tapping on his leg reach Peter’s ears, and he finds himself leaning his head back against the headrest in irritation.

“You all good there?” Natasha whispers to him, her red hair brushing against his shoulder.

Peter forces a smile, only looking at her through his peripheral vision. “Sometimes having heightened senses isn’t the best thing in the world.”

Natasha hums in understanding before going back to her thoughtful silence.

When the car pulls into a large garage Peter unbuckles his seatbelt and follows Tony out the door, his hand grasping onto the man’s elbow for the briefest moment. Tony looks back at him and then glances at Fury, who is busy talking to another SHIELD member who just walked up to him. Taking his chance, he lightly grabs onto Peter’s shoulders, urging him to step closer.

“Listen, kid. Under no circumstances do you have to answer anything you are uncomfortable talking about,” Tony says as if it’s the most important thing Peter can hear in this circumstance, “Natasha will be in there with you and I’ll be observing from outside. If you need me just call my name and I’ll be right there, okay?”

Peter raises his eyebrows in surprise. His breath caught in his throat and he nodded weakly.

Tony sighs, his eyes closed, “Pete, Peter, I need a verbal response. Just…”

“Why do you care?” Peter blurts out.

“Why do I… Why do I care ?” Tony frowns, almost like he doesn’t know the answer for himself. Peter nods again, his eyes pleading. “You’re a good kid. Alright? And Fury isn’t all too compassionate. He’s insensitive, really.”

Peter gives him an amused smile, “You know I’ve dealt with much worse, right?”

Tony’s eyes twitch and Peter can tell that this reminder hurts his heart in a way neither of them can understand. “You have… But still.”

“Still,” Peter repeats, the word light on his tongue.

–

Tony understands why they’re doing this. Peter can open up many different leads to help them defeat HYDRA. The kid has first-hand experience and probably has more memory of the place than even Bucky; not only that, but Peter has been there within the last six months, and has a better idea of how things are run now rather than decades ago. Because if HYDRA is anything like SHIELD, they’re constantly evolving and getting smarter by the second.

Still, Tony can’t seem to shake the anxious feeling inside of him. The possibility of freaking Peter out and losing all progress made lingers in the air. But the kid has got himself a backbone, Tony reminds himself. He may be sweet, but he can be snarky when he wants to be. And the scars on his face are enough to show the hell he’s gone through and the horrors he’s faced. Certainly, Nick Fury isn’t enough to break him down, right? Right.

When he parts ways with Peter, this anxious feeling hits him all over again. SHIELD agents lead him to a small room filled with cameras pointing at the interrogation rooms. One room is enlarged on the screen and Peter can be seen walking into it with Fury and Natasha. Part of Tony wishes he could be in there with him, but he also can’t help but question if his presence would truly help in the long run.

Tony slowly lowers himself onto the chair and leans into the desk, his eyes fixed on the screen.

“I understand you know why you’re here, Peter,” Fury’s voice comes through the speaker. Peter glances at Natasha and nods slowly. “Good. We’re going to start simple. How much of your life before HYDRA do you remember?”

Peter looks at the one-eyed man as if that’s the most complicated question he could give. “Nothing really. Only that my name is Peter. That itself is new information to me, anyway. I only know that because I dreamt of it when I was in surgery. Before they called me Паук.”

“Surgery?”

“I was injured on a mission,” Peter sighs, “Well. That was their excuse anyway. I think they really just wanted an excuse to add a new feature to my abilities. Organic webs.”

“These surgeries…” Fury hums, “Were they a normal occurrence?”

The kid shrugs, “At first. My earliest memories are of being in surgery. Back then I was pretty much conscious until my body gave out.”

Tony’s stomach lurches and Fury nods. “What exactly did they tell you to fill in the blanks of your lack of memory?”

Peter gulps and is silent for a moment. Fury seems to open his mouth, probably to urge a quicker answer, but Natasha holds up a finger. Peter takes a deep breath, “They told me that… I was their creation. That I had no life before them. At the time I thought all those surgeries were them creating me and me slowly coming into conscience, but they were only studying my enhancements.”

At this, Tony’s lips pull into a deep frown at how messed up that all is. He stands up, knowing he can’t sit still, and starts to pace the room, his thumb rubbing at his bottom lip.

“What exactly was your purpose?” he hears Fury ask.

There’s a beat, and then, “To kill. I was their weapon. If they had a problem that’s solution involved killing, I was their guy. I’m quite skilled at it, apparently.”

“How many exactly–”

“We agreed to not ask too many personal questions,” Nataha interjects firmly.

“Five hundred,” Peter’s voice is barely heard. There’s ringing in Tony’s ears and the kid is met with silence, “And some change. Most were innocent, but some deserved it.”

Fury does not give this a response but instead continues asking questions. “How do you know Carter Ivanov?”

Tony’s head shoots up at this, his focus directly on the screen. 

“He was my handler,” Peter mumbles. 

“What was your relationship with him like?” Fury goes further, “Was he nice to you?”

Peter lets out a dry laugh, “I wish. That guy was a complete asshole. He treated me like… Like I was some… Animal. He tortured me. He humiliated me. He had control over me in a way that no one else did. Escaping him and that base was the best decision I ever made. And he’s here, isn’t he? In this very building.”

Fury ignores the last part.  “Where is HYDRA’s base?”

Peter is smirking and he cocks his head. This right here is Peter in defense mode, he’s learned. There is no trace of the sweet Peter Tony knows. This right here is an assassin, the one that lashes out, and acts like the world is out to get him because frankly, it is. 

“Which one?”

Fury’s tone becomes more and more impatient and Tony knows at this moment that he’s not going to get anything more out of Peter. So he turns away from the screen and swings open the door, slamming it shut behind him.

–

Peter’s hands tap anxiously on his thigh. He’s happy to be back at the tower and away from Nick Fury. He really is. But he can’t help but feel awkward about the fact that Tony and Natasha have seen a side of him he’s tried so hard to hide. That he’s a monster. Rabid. 

Carter Ivanov’s words echo through his mind. Each and every thing the man has ever told him. He’s a weapon. He’s a mutt.

But he can change. Can’t he? He’s proven that much since he got here. Ever since he found out HYDRA has been lying about it, change has been coursing through him. He can do good. Right his wrongs. All that stuff.

Peter’s hands clench into fists and he gets up from his spot on the floor in his room. He discreetly exits his room, ignoring the booming voice of Tony as he rants about how much he hates Nick Fury. FRIDAY doesn’t say a word as he walks into Tony’s labs and starts grabbing material. He goes for a more simple design, one he can make without the help of a billionaire. He goes in the complete opposite direction of the original color scheme, choosing black and gray instead of red and blue.

Tony may want him to wait. But Peter can’t sit around much longer and let his guilt rip him apart. He can be a hero now.

–

Pepper forces Tony off his feet. As always.

“The kid will be fine,” Pepper insists, her eyes gentle, “Look. I wouldn’t have you do this if it wasn;t absolutely necessary. But we need you in LA.”

Tony is not so sure Peter will be okay. Sure, he has the rest of the team. He has Happy who he demands to check up on him every once in a while(they make this arrangement at another AA meeting Pepper encourages him to go after the whole thing with Fury). Tony is ashamed to say he hasn’t been around the kid as much.

But all these new details… This teenager has a kill count most could never imagine. It’s not that Tony is now resentful of Peter, or scared. But it still rattles him just a bit. He knew the kid had been through a shit ton… But this… Tony squeezes his eyes shut.

Guilt washes over him as he bids his team goodbye. His eyes flicker to Peter in the doorway who promptly crashes into him with a hug. “Be good, kid,” Tony whispers into his hair. 

Peter pulls away, something flickering in his eyes. He gives Tony a wry smile. “Just come back as soon as you can. Please.”

Tony shudders out a breath, “You know I will.”

But does he?

Chapter Text

It’s never too late

to be who you wanna be

     – Lana Del Rey

A few weeks ago…

Michelle Jones stands in an airport, her hand resting on the handle of her suitcase. The bustling crowd moves around her, splitting apart in just the right way for her to make sight of Ned Leeds.

“MJ!” the boy calls with a wide smile, his arms opening wide as he walks up to her. She greets him with a short hug to which he smiles anymore. MJ doesn’t consider herself a touchy person, but she’ll make the exception just this once. “Oh, my god. Summer has sucked without you. I had Betty to keep me company but it just wasn’t the same…”

MJ chuckles just a bit. “I missed you, too, Leeds.”

“Was Russia fun?” Ned asks.

“Eh,” MJ shrugs, “Same old. You can only go to the Red Square so many times before it becomes mundane.”

Ned tilts his head, “I highly doubt that.”

“Michelle, I’ll take your stuff. You go with Ned and hang out, okay?” MJ’s mom smiles at the pair as she takes over her suitcase. “See you at home, sweetie.”

“Thanks,” MJ nods. She grabs Ned by the arm, tugging at him. “Let's get outta here.” 

They push through the crowd of people and out of the airport. As they head to their favorite coffee shop the two friends talk about anything that comes to mind. MJ had been gone for quite a while and they only managed to make time for a few phone calls.

But as Ned speaks to her, sipping on his iced latte, MJ feels a sort of twisting feeling in her gut. Should she, she wonders, tell him about the boy she met in Russia? She ponders on this for a bit before noticing a look on Ned’s face. One that clearly shows he has something on his mind but doesn’t know how to bring it up.

“You’re leaving something out, aren’t you?” MJ narrows her eyes.

“So are you,” Ned grins, wiggling his eyebrows.

They know each other too damn well. She sighs, “Spill, Leeds.”

“Alright,” he taps his fingers on the table, searching for words. “Tony Stark came to my apartment almost a month ago.”

“Tony Stark was in your apartment,” MJ gawks. She wasn’t expecting him to say that. “Why?”

Ned looks at the floor, “Peter,” he whispers, “May hired him to look for Peter. I know it probably won’t change anything. Maybe we’ll get some answers, but not Peter. But I kind of hope… No, it's stupid.”

“It's not stupid,” MJ shakes her head.

“It isn’t?” Ned frowns, “Aren't you the one who always says, if you expect disappointment you’ll never be disappointed?” 

“Sure, but…” MJ takes a deep breath, “I met someone in Russia. A boy. He looked just how I imagine Peter would now. I thought I was crazy, getting my hopes up and going against my very own saying. But, Ned, he said his name was Parker . And he had this haunted look in his eyes. This built up anger boiling up inside of him. Something was off. I saw him and I saw Peter.”

“Are you saying you think he might be Peter?” Ned’s eyes widened.

“I think there’s a chance,” MJ says, “The things he told me were vague, like he was hiding some sort of truth. If it is him I don’t think he recognized me or even remembered me. He was sort of, like, brainwashed or some shit. I just don’t know why whoever it was who kidnapped him chose him.”

“I do,” Ned blurts out, “I never told you this but Peter was enhanced.”

“Enhanced?” 

“It was a radioactive spider,” Ned explains, “He had powers. A month later he was gone.”

MJ swallows. “Ned, I think maybe Parker might have been enhanced. Did he have strength?”

Ned nods. “Oh, my god.”

“Yeah, oh my god. ”

–

Now…

Peter watches Happy in a curious manner. Despite the name, the man isn't too chipper, is the first thing the boy figures out. He mostly ignores Peter as her types on his phone, his eyes squinting every so often at the screen and his lips turning downward into a frown.

“What’s your real name?” Peter asks without thinking much of it. Because that’s something he can just do here, apparently. Ask questions without getting a punch in the throat, that is.

Happy looks up at him and stares for just a moment, “Harold. Tony started calling me that basically the moment we met. Thought it’d be funny with the irony of it. It’s his thing, giving people nicknames. Pepper instead of Virginia, Rhodey instead of James, he likes calling Steve Cap, too.”

Peter nods slowly. It’s all still so odd to him. How can all these people just be so comfortable around each other? Why is it that Peter feels like he’s constantly in fight or flight mode while everyone else just leans on each other, having a grand old time. Even Natasha. Even Barnes. And their stories aren’t too far off from his own.

With a sigh Peter gets off the couch, and Happy doesn’t stop him when he makes his way towards his room. He looks around the hallway, finding it empty.

“FRIDAY, say I left the building,” Peter whispers as he turns the handle of Tony’s bedroom door, “What would you do?”

“I would have to inform boss,” FRIDAY informs him, almost sounding amused. 

Peter opens each and every drawer. “What if I took you with me?”

The AI is silent for a moment. “As long as you didn’t hurt yourself or do anything too bad, I could consider not saying anything.”

Peter smiles widely. He opens the last drawer of Tony’s dresser and a hoodie that was clearly lazily stuffed in there falls at his feet. Peter picks it up and his heightened senses allow him to smell the cologne and motor oil that the billionaire always has on his skin. His hands grab softly at the material, his eyes drooping.

“Try the middle drawer of the nightstand on the left,” FRIDAY interrupts.

Peter’s head snaps up. He closes the drawer and pulls the hoodie over his arm, making his way to open it. Just as he hoped, the watch was in there, the one that connected to FRIDAY. Perfect. He slips it on his wrist and goes to his own bedroom, tossing the hoodie on his bed.

He looks back at it and… Oh. He’s getting too attached. Way too attached. 

Any moment any of this, all of this, could be ripped away from him. Just as he was ripped away from his family, just as he was ripped away from Harry, and from Robert. Why should Tony be any different? Or any of the Avengers for that matter. It’s just not how Peter’s life worked. HYDRA would find a way, the goddamn fates of the universe would find a way to ruin this all for him at some point. It has to.

The more attached he gets the more it’ll all hurt when it goes away.

Peter shakes his head, grabbing his self made suit and pulling it on. FRIDAY slides open the window for him, a feature he did not know was possible on a floor this high. Using his stickiness to support himself he leaned out, looking at the moving city before him.

With one last deep breath, he leaps.

New York City, he finds as he walks through the many walkways, is extraordinary. Peter isn’t exactly sure why he’s out here, other than wanting to feel normal, but he knows there are countless opportunities in this block alone. 

Peter browses a bookstore, a thrift store, and most of all he people watches. It's entertaining to watch interactions between strangers and guess what their stories might be. What moments in their life led up to them in this exact area, talking with that specific person? Peter also watches the people who are alone like him, finding the experience of the outside world just as exciting as he does.

It’s much different here than anywhere Peter has gone for a mission or where he stayed with Robert. He’s not sure how. It just is. Maybe the culture or the aesthetics of the surroundings, Peter supposes.

A few people approach him but Peter keeps the interactions short. He remembers Robert and Michelle, two people he let get too close only to end up hurting them in some way. He’s already risking the well beings of the Avengers by letting himself get close and his stomach twists at the idea of harming them directly or indirectly. Peter doesn’t need anymore people in and risk them as well.

“What's Happy doing?” Peter asks FRIDAY.

“He’s currently watching reruns of Downton Abbey, and still thinks you're in your room,” she informs him in her calm voice, “Remember, Peter, if he notices your absence I will have to tell him where you are.”

Peter rolls his eyes, “I’ll be fine. This is a one time thing.”

Well, it should be anyways.

Peter reluctantly turns around and starts heading back to the tower. He talks to FRIDAY as he goes, ignoring the odd looks from passer-byers.

And then… And then the back of his neck tingles and he stops dead in his tracks, causing the woman behind him, too distracted by her phone call, to ram into him and spill her drink on the ground. She curses at him angrily and all he can do is stutter out an apology.

Peter’s enhanced hearing picks up noise from a nearby alley way.

“Get off of me!” a distressed voice yells.

“Give me your purse, lady and we won’t have any problems,” a man’s voice growls, “I’m not afraid to pull the trigger.”

Peter’s next moves aren’t even thought out, he simply acts. He recalls all the training he had in HYDRA and everything else the Avengers have taught him during his time with them. Peter prepells himself on the wall before pouncing on the man. The burglar puts up a fight, but Peter easily wins, pinning him against the wall with his webs.

“Go and call the police!” he tells the woman, who nods frantically before running away.

Peter breathes heavily, sizing the man up, “Ever steal something or hurt anyone again, you’ll regret. You hear me?”

The burglar swallows slowly before nodding. Peter’s heart lurches because he knows the guilt. He doesn’t know what else this man has done but it can’t possibly be as bad as what Peter has done in his lifetime. He feels like a fucking hypocrite.

He swings home and doesn’t look back.

–

Tony is still in California, the other Avengers are busy, and Happy Hogan is dealing with his own personal life, only half paying attention to Peter.

The boy spends most of his time laying in bed, thinking about what might have happened to that woman if he didn’t fight the burglar off. WOuld the man have pulled the trigger? Would she have given him her bag with her belongings in it? How many others would he have targeted if he wasn’t taken into police custody? Is he even in police custody?

Should Peter be in police custody?

Peter’s phone starts to ring and he reaches over and grabs it from his nightstand. Tony’s name pops up on the screen and he hits the decline button. The call goes through anyways.

“You’re declining my calls now?” Tony gasps, “Ouch. Color me hurt.”

“How the fuck did you overide that?” Peter can’t help but ask.

“I’m Tony Stark, kid,” Peter can practically hear the man’s smirk, “I have my ways.”

“How’s California?” Peter asks.

“Pepper has me doing a ton of boring stuff,” Tony says, “Meetings, paperwork, all that kind of stuff. I really miss you, y’know. If Fury let me, I would've taken you.”

“I know,” Peter sniffs. “I suppose I miss you too.”

“You suppose?” Tony snorts, he pauses and then, “If you miss me why did you try to ignore my call?”

“Habit,” Peter mumbles, “I feel you get close so I push you away. I know I don’t have to but…”

“But it's a habit,” Tony finishes for him, “Yeah, kiddo, I know. But there’s no reason to, just keep your mind off of it.”

“But isn’t there? A reason?” Peter says, “I’m like a magnet for tragedies. Everyone I care for ends up hurt, or scared of me. I guess I deserve it, though.”

“Peter…” Tony says slowly, “You don’t deserve any of it.”

“You know what I’ve done, Tony,” Peter sighs. “I met a girl. In Russia. She was the first friend I made after escaping, and I scared her away. Maybe one day you’ll see what she saw and you’ll be scared, too.”

“Nope. That’s not happening,” Tony says adamantly. “Pete, who do you want to be?”

“I want to be good,” Peter says, “I want to make up for all that I’ve done. I want to be happy and not feel the shadow of threat looming over me.”

“And that’s what matters,” Tony tells him, “You wanting to be good, that’s enough. And you are good, kiddo. HYDRA just made you into a version of yourself that wasn’t truly you. Now you have the chance to be what you want to be.” 

“I guess,” Peter shrugs. He looks over to the window and thinks again of the woman he saved. Maybe that's a good start to being good. Maybe he can continue it.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” Tony says, “Remember this conversation. I’m going to call you tomorrow and you’re going to answer me yourself. Then before you know it I’ll be back in New York and everything will be back to normal.”

Right, Peter thinks. This is his new normal. 

He thinks he can live with that.

–

Peter sneaks out more and more after that. Happy doesn’t notice.

For each person he saves, he tallies it in his journal. Maybe one day these tallies will outnumber all the horrible things HYDRA made him do. Peter is set on making it all up, to be good like Tony says he can be.

For the very first time, Peter can mute the feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach and just breathe.

–

“New York has gained itself a new vigilante, whose signature appears to be webbing criminals up, leaving them for the police to take into custody. Witnesses decribe this masked person to have spider-like abilities such as climbing walls,” the news reporter says, “Everyone only has one question: what are their motives and can they be trusted?”

MJ stares at the screen ignoring her step-dad’s complaints of the world not needing another superhero. “I’ll be in my room,” she tells them before leaving the living room and calling Ned.

“Hey I was just about to call you!” Ned says cheerfully, “My mom just–”

“Have you seen the news?” MJ cuts him off.

“Um, no,” Ned says as if that’s the most replusing idea, “What teenager watches the news?”

“Me,” MJ rolls her eyes, “That’s not the point though. Apparently there’s a new vigilante with spider-like abilities.”

“No way,” Ned gasps.

“We need to meet up,” MJ says, “As soon as possible.”

Ned agrees.

Chapter Text

A haunted house with a picket fence

To float around and ghost my friends

– I Know The End, Phoebe Bridgers

“Peter has been doing what?” 

The Avengers look at Happy Hogan with such distress that for once the man actually fears that Tony will finally snap and fire him even after many times of saying that he’d never be able to find someone better. But who on God’s green earth thought he was the best option for babysitting duty? 

Yes Tony is in LA, yes the other Avengers have been super busy but… Jesus Christ.

“I assumed FRIDAY would alert me of something, okay?” Happy sighs, “I didn’t even consider that him sneaking out from this high of a building was in the realm of possibilities.”

“Tony’s gonna kill you,” Clint points a finger, “He’s gonna kill all of us.”

“He has said that FRIDAY has taken a liking to Peter,” Natasha frowns, “I guess we just never thought she’d ignore basic protocol for him.”

“Maybe Tony hasn’t seen the news yet,” Rhodey says, “We just need to talk to Peter, make sure it doesn’t happen again. Tony will give him a lecture when he does find out. We can’t tell him now, especially since we have it covered, Pepper won’t appreciate him being distracted.”

“Right,” Steve nods, “FRIDAY, where’s Peter?”

There’s a long silence before the AI reluctantly speaks, “He is not currently in the building.”

There's a chorus of groans before Bruce speaks up, “You guys go, I’ll figure out his precise location.”

“I’ll just…” Happy sighs, all the Avengers are looking at him, “Okay, yeah, I’ll help.”

–

“He should be around here somewhere,” MJ tells him as they stop at a crosswalk, “Someone on Twitter said he was spotted less than a half hour ago.”

Ned doesn’t respond, instead he tries to get his racing heart in control. Could this really be the moment? Is he about to see his friend after so many years of thinking he was dead? Ned tries to not get his hopes up but it’s hard. They might not even find this Spider-Man guy. And if they do… Maybe it’s not even Peter. And if it is Peter… Well Ned isn’t sure what their next step will be after that.

“You’re overthinking this,” MJ tells him in her usual blunt fashion. She blinks, “Okay, I suppose I am as well. But whatever.”

“It’s hard not to,” Ned shrugs, “This is… a lot.”

MJ nods, silent. She’s still on her phone, probably scrolling through any app that might point them towards Peter.

And then what happens next is, like, totally insane. Like story telling worth insane that would make Ned sound really cool. Even Flash would be on the edge of his seat. Because a man in a black mask and a pink purse in hand zips past them, knocking over other pedestrians. A group of police take notice and start chasing him and…

“What the hell?” MJ gawks, she turns to Ned, “Do you think maybe…?”

Ned is lost for words but he manages to get out a simple, “Mhm.”

“He came from that alleyway,” MJ says, grabbing Ned’s hand, “He’s probably gone by now but, maybe not.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ned frowns, eyeing the alleyway warily. Its dark, so dark Ned isn’t sure how deep it goes. There’s also a lot of trash.

MJ turns on the flashlight on her phone, “Do you want to find out if he’s Peter or not, Leeds?”

“Of course I do,” Ned sighs.

“Then let's go.”

–

Peter gasps, clutching his side as he stumbles into some random alleyway. It's dark and he can’t see much, except for the blood covering his hand when he pulls it away from himself.

Unless he can manage to swing home and deal with the pain, he’s screwed. Even if he does, he isn’t going to be able to hide the stab wound for long.

He turns to his watch to speak to FRIDAY, only… It’s completely shattered and unresponsive.

“Fuck,” Peter hisses. He reminds himself that he won’t be punished for breaking something that isn’t his, but he still feels bad.

A piece of trash from nearby crumbles beneath the weight of something. Someone. Peter’s head perks up, only to be met with a bright light. He’s quick to pull his hood down farther to not risk revealing his face.

Taking his chances, Peter looks back up to see a boy around him staring at him with wide eyes. His eyes shift and then, oh, MJ.

“Parker,” she whispers, a sad smile on her face, “I knew it, I…”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he stands, and instantly regrets it. He winces, “It's dangerous.”

“Peter, you’re bleeding all over the place,” MJ narrows her eyes, accusatory.

Peter blinks a few times. He looks over to the boy, who appears to have forgotten how to breathe, let alone speak. “I’m sorry, what did you call me?”

“She called you Peter,” the boy whispers, staring at him. It's the same sad look in his eyes, only it's more open. More readable.

“Right. And how exactly do you know that?” Peter tilts his head.

“You can cut the act now, Peter,” MJ says gently, “I mean, it's us . I understand that you wanted to pretend you didn’t know me in Russia. But that's over.”

“I don’t follow,” Peter says slowly, looking between them.

“What we mean is that we’re your friends,” the boy says, “You can trust us.”

“Right. Who are you?” Peter raises a brow. The boy winces, and so does Peter. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I can be a bit blunt sometimes.”

“You don’t remember,” MJ states rather than asks.

“Um. I remember you from Russia,” Peter shrugs, “Not him, though.”

“That's Ned,” MJ nods to the guy, who has gone silent again. “I’m MJ, as you know. Do you remember when I told you that you reminded me of someone I lost? Well, his name was Peter Parker.”

“Oh,” Peter whispers, desperately searching his memory for the two of them before. Nothing. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“I’m, um, sorry I don’t remember you guys,” Peter says. That’s the right thing to say, right? Because this is pretty awkward. “I didn’t even remember my name was Peter until like just before I met you in Russia. I’m still… Adjusting. I guess. Trying to make amends with the world and set my morals straight and all that. It’s why I’m doing… this. I’m rambling aren’t I? It's still strange not being told to shut the hell up… And, okay, yeah, that hurts.”

Peter bears all his weight into the ground and sinks back down to the floor. MJ is quick to help him. She takes one look at his wound and winces.

“Here let me–” MJ tries but she’s interrupted. 

“Peter Parker!” a familiar voice shouts. Steve. Of fucking course. “You’re lucky Tony is in LA right now. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“That's Captain America,” Ned gasps.

“Trust me, Ned, he’s not that great,” Peter smirks, “Pretty lame if you ask me.”

But Ned doesn’t laugh, just looks at him as if he’s a puzzle to solve. It reminds him of the way Tony looked at him back when they first met.

Sam, however laughs, “If I didn’t know better, I’d assume he was Tony’s child.”

“Practically is,” Natasha snorts. 

“Okay… Who did you not bring?” Peter scrunches his nose.

“Out of those currently in the city? Bruce. Bucky,” Clint lists off, “And luckily for you, we’ve yet to call Tony, so you’ve got some time for ignorant bliss.”

“Right,” Peter sighs. “But you guys know why I’m doing this? God, the things I have done. The people I’ve hurt. Killed. I need to make up for it somehow.”

Peter snaps his mouth shut and makes sure he doesn’t look in Ned and MJ’s direction. They really didn’t need to hear that.

“We know why you’re doing this, kid,” Steve nods, understanding, “We also know why you need to stop. And we know that you know as well.”

“Yes,” Peter says reluctantly, “Because of Fury. And also a bunch of HYDRA agents are crawling around to try and get me back on your side.”

“ Back on their side?” Ned chokes.

“Who do you think kidnapped me?” Peter snaps. He instantly regrets it. “Fuck, I’m sorry Ned. That’s the pain talking.”

Ned nods, trying to hide his frown and miserably failing to do so. “Its okay.”

“Look, you two,” Peter says, readjusting his position, “I know you came looking for your friend. And yeah, I guess that’s who I was. Your friend from years ago. But I’m not him anymore. I’m… I don’t know how else to put it, but I’m a HYDRA assassin. Was a HYDRA assassin. You deserve me being honest. And I… I deserve to just let you guys go.”

“Peter,” MJ narrows her eyes, “We don’t care what they forced you to do, okay? We understand that you’ll be different from what we remember. You don’t have to let us go.”

“I don’t mean forever,” Peter amends. “But for now… I haven’t even reunited with May yet. I’m… I don’t know.”

“But–” 

“MJ,” Ned warns, “He’s giving us a chance, okay? We just need to give him space. For a little while.”

“I don’t want to!” MJ cries. Peter can tell right then and there that she’s not the emotional type. And yet, she’s crying. “For once I don’t expect disappointment, and it slaps me right across the face.”

“MJ, come here,” Peter tells her, ignoring all the eyes on him. She hesitates, before kneeling down to his level. He takes his none bloody hand and runs it through her curls. MJ melts into Peter’s touch, pressing her forehead to his.

“I may not remember you guys,” Peter tells her. Tells Ned. “But I still feel something there. I had a crush on you as a kid, didn’t I?”

MJ laughs through her tears. She sniffles, “A huge one.”

“I can tell why,” Peter tells her, “In Russia, you were amazing. You are amazing. I’m sorry I scared you off. And I’m sorry I’m pushing you away right now. But I’m alive and I’m here. We’re in the same city. That must be something.”

MJ nods silently, and before Peter can think much of it, he pulls her in closer for a deep kiss. It lasts a few seconds before he pulls away, finding MJ blushing in the shine of her flashlight. Ned is in shock, yet proud. The Avengers… Well of course they’re having the times of their lives with this one. How couldn’t they?

Clint whistles, “Who’s gonna tell Tony that not only did he miss his kid’s vigilantism but also his first kiss?”

“Shut up, Katniss,” Peter sticks his tongue out.

“Yep,” Natasha smirks, “That's Tony’s kid.”

Peter doesn’t even bother to disagree. In fact he doesn’t actually mind the title.

“Good luck,” MJ whispers as Steve gathers him into his arms. Ned nods, a hopeful look gleaming in his eyes. Peter doesn’t look away from them until they’re too far to see.

– 

Bruce stitches Peter up, giving him quite the lecture while doing so, and none of the Avengers let him out of their sight during the day time. And at night FRIDAY has strict instructions to not let him out.

It doesn’t matter though, because something deep in Peter’s bones tells him not to sneak out. Even though he wants to continue saving people. Maybe it just isn’t worth it.

Tony will be mad enough when he finds out, anyway.

The clock is ticking on that, and now, as Peter wakes up, he realizes that today is the day he faces reality. 

Sam sits him down for breakfast while the others go and greet Tony once his jet lands. Peter picks at it, finding it hard to muster up any sort of appetite. He shoves it in his mouth anyway, knowing the Avengers are all about making sure he gets three meals a day, plus some snacks that usually come from Tony.

“I could really use a drink,” Peter comments. Sam raises a brow and the kid grins widely.

“You’ve got a good ten years before you can drink, Spidey,” Sam shakes his head.

“Uh, more like five,” Peter says.

“Have we met the same Tony?” Sam snorts, “He’s still worrying about that night on the balcony.”

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, guilt washing over him. “Fuck, I really haven’t been making things easy for him, have I?”

Sam smiles gently, “None of us expects you to, Peter. Especially not Tony. We all know what it’s like to go through some traumatic shit and act out because of it. Even Cap.”

“Really?” Peter is skeptical.

“Really,” Sam nods.

Silence passes as they continue to eat and then Peter can’t help but ask, “Tony won’t be too mad, right?”

“Oh, he’ll be pissed,” Sam tells him, “But only because he loves you and wants you safe.”

Something in Peter’s stomach twists, just like it does any time anyone refers to him as Tony’s kid. He really doesn’t mind it. He also wants to see Tony safe and maybe might even feel something akin to love towards the man.

But that’s too scary a thought to dwell on.

—

When Tony finally makes it back to New York, he feels an immense sense of relief, only for it to crushed not even a minute later when he gets off.

“Peter did what?” Tony seethes, “Happy when I said look after the kid, I meant look after the kid. What were you doing to let this slide under your radar?”

Happy rolls his eyes, “You did kind of just throw him at me, in my defense. I still had the rest of my job and my own personal life.”

“You’re lucky I like you, Hap,” Tony narrows his eyes, “Or you’d be fired right now.”

Happy is not phased, but Tony can see a bit of guilt in his eyes, which is satisfying enough.

“The kid’s okay, Tony,” Bruce assures him, “I got him all patched up, he’s healing as quick as he should be with his enhancements.”

Tony blinks, “I’m sorry? You patched him up? Last time I checked Peter would have to be injured to warrant that.”

The Avengers all look at each other. Natasha sighs, “There may have been a stabbing incident.”

Tony chokes.

“But he’s fine!” Steve raises a hand, “He’s acting like his usual self.”

“Oh, and guess what?” Clint smirks, “He’s got himself a girl– Ow!”

Natasha elbows him in the ribs, hissing something in his ear.

“Remind me to never leave him for a whole week again,” Tony mutters. “Where is he?”

“Sam’s giving him breakfast,” Bucky explains.

“He really does feel bad,” Steve says, “For your sake, at least. FRIDAY, not so much.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Tony sighs, “Lead the way.”

As promised, Peter is perfectly fine and in the kitchen. He’s even smiling, laughing at something Wilson said before they entered the room. When Peter sees Tony however, his smile fades, replaced with… Well, guilt.

“Hi, Mr. Stark,” the kid greets sheepishly. “Um. Good trip?”

Tony doesn’t reply, but simply opens his arms. “Come here.”

Peter stares at him for a moment, meanwhile the other Avengers take the hint and leave the room. Hesitantly, the kid approaches him and lets Tony wrap his arms around him. He even returns the hug.

“I’m proud of you, Underoos,” Tony tells him earnestly.

Peter pulls back to see Tony’s face, “What, what?”

“I saw what you were running around in, Pete,” Tony snorts, “I think the nickname is deserved.”

“No, I mean…” Peter seems conflicted, “You’re proud? I thought you’d be yelling at me, and, like, super angry.”

Tony considered this. “I’m a bit conflicted on how I feel about this. On one hand, I am beyond upset you snuck out and took on vigilantism. It was super reckless and you could’ve been killed or taken by HYDRA agents. But, I’m proud of your grit. I’m proud that you care enough to save others.”

Peter doesn’t respond, he seems unsure of what to say.

“Kiddo, you need to wait, though,” Tony tells him, “Your powers are too easily recognizable by HYDRA. I’m not saying you can’t be a superhero, but we need to get things under control first. And when you do get that chance, I will be watching your every move, understand?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “I guess,” he mutters reluctantly.

Tony laughs. “Take a seat, Peter. We have some catching up to do.”

“We do?”

“Yeah, according to Clint, you’ve got a girlfriend,” Tony teases, “Where did that come from?”

Peter blushes, and Tony can't help but laugh.

Chapter Text

Heard the risk is drowning 

But I’m gonna take it

— Gracie Abrams

Peter Parker has never felt less empty. The Avengers, especially Tony, have gone out of their way to make a home for him. They’ve shown him what it means to be good, and what it feels like to be loved. And then there’s MJ, who though he wants to keep his distance from now, gives him a chance at something more in the future. Even that Ned guy gives him something to look forward to.

Tony and Clint take him out in the city a few times. Of course he’s not allowed out of their sights and there’s always SHIELD agents following loosely behind them. But Peter gets to go to bookstores and also get some clothes of his choosing. Peter feels bad using Tony’s money, but the man always notices when he eyes something and he discreetly puts it in the basket.

They’ve also started training him to become Spider Man in the future and Peter and Tony have spent hours in the labs making all sorts of things, including some cool stuff that has nothing to do with Spider Man. Tony has excitedly told Peter all about his suits and Peter is just happy to be given an opportunity to learn something new.

“I was thinking, Pete,” Tony says one day in the lab.

“Really?” Peter gasps dramatically.

Tony narrows his eyes, but ignores him. “You’ve been doing so well, kiddo. I know you’re not ready to be around MJ and Ned just yet, but what about your aunt?”

Multiple sorts of feelings flood over Peter all at once. On one hand he’s not exactly opposed, and it honestly just curious. Then he remembers his orders to kill the woman. Peter is sure he has the words under control enough not to, but if put in the wrong situation, he might just slip up.

Tony senses Peter’s unease, as he always does and places a hand on his shoulder. “Let's start with this, okay? We can tell her you’re alive, explain the whole situation, but you don’t have to meet up with her. We can warm up with that; maybe start with a few phone calls and when you’re ready, then you can see her.”

Peter ponders on it for a moment and then nods, “I do think I owe her that. Letting her know I’m okay, I mean.”

Tony lets out a breath, “Okay, thanks, Underoos. To be honest, not telling her I found you was kind of eating at me.”

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles.

“Hey, no sorrys,” Tony reminds him. Peter opens his mouth, about to say it again, but Tony shushes him. “Nope, no time for any more sorrys, we got to head to the kitchen for dinner. Sam is making pot roast.”

“I’ve never had pot roast,” Peter admits.

Tony smiles, “Well let's change that.”

–

Tony in the next few hours tries to call May five times. Each call goes to voicemail, and it's at that point the man begins to worry.

He supposes he hasn’t thought much of the fact May hasn’t contacted him in a bit. He assumed it was because she’d rather wait than continuously pester him – not that Tony really would have minded her calling him. Well, if not for the fact he was keeping the fact that he found her nephew from her.

Tony goes on as if nothing is wrong. May Parker is a nurse after all, and must have a very busy schedule. 

Peter, luckily, is still feeling happy and doesn’t bring May up himself. So Tony doesn’t bring her up either. The fact that the kid is even letting him tell her he’s been fact is a win, not one he wants to ruin. Tony imagines its best if they rip it off like a bandaid and not give him a chance of an out.

And then Pepper comes back to town and Tony is too overjoyed to be spending time with her to even spare the situation a single thought. (That’s a lie; he spaced out a few times at the restaurant. Not that Pepper minded.)

But then a day or two after Peter agreed to let Tony call May, his phone rings. May’s name pops up on the screen and he excuses himself from the game the Avengers are playing together.

“May,” he breathes as he presses the phone to his ear, “I’m glad you called. I wanted to tell you–”

“Stark,” a voice interrupts. Tony freezes because it's not May at all. It's a man. A Russian man to be precise. “May is a little… preoccupied at the moment.”

Tony’s blood goes cold and his grip on his phone rightens so much he is surprised it doesn’t break. “What have you done with her? Where is she?”

“She’s alive. Don’t worry,” the man says. “Don’t be too surprised. I’m not sure why she wasn’t killed sooner. She’s just as nosey as her husband was. Though I suppose that's why they decided to have her own nephew go and kill her. That’s my job now though. Unless you give me what you want.”

The man doesn’t even have to tell him what it is he wants in exchange for May. Peter. Tony knows in a heartbeat that May wouldn’t want that, so it makes it easier for him to stand his ground. “Go to hell.”

The man gives that no response. “Tell Fury to strengthen his security, by the way. It was far too easy to break out. Anyway, I’ll be here waiting. Just bring the mutt and we have a deal.”

Mutt. The word meant to describe Peter makes Tony see red. So much so he doesn’t even register the fact that it's Carter Ivanov on the other end until the call disconnects. Tony curses under his breath. 

“FRIDAY,” Tony growls, “Trace the call. We’re going to save May. But if he thinks I’m going to hand the kid over, he’s delusional.”

–

Peter, frankly, is disappointed in himself. For many things, but mainly for letting his guard down. Because of course all of this happiness was just too good to be true. Just as he thought he was finally getting his life back, Ivanov makes sure he remembers who he is.

A killer, a monster, a mutt.

He knows now that HYDRA was not the reason he was alive, but more so the reason he is who he is now. Peter had been selfish to forget who he was. He’d been selfish to let the Avengers in and to even start to feel love. Because mutts couldn’t love, could they?

Tony appears to be underestimating his enhanced hearing, or maybe it just slipped his mind. Because Tony comes back to the room and acts as if everything is okay. Or at least he attempts to. Everyone can sense his shift in mood, but no one asks him any questions.

It's not until Peter excuses himself to his room that Tony says anything. He tells the other Avengers about the call. They all make a plan to save May without risking Peter.

Which is… Idiotic if Peter wants to put it bluntly. It's one thing to underestimate Peter but Ivanov… He’s a whole different story. The man is ruthless and manipulative and when he wants something, he gets it. Peter has been here long enough to know that escaping from SHIELD’s prison is no easy feat. Ivanov managed it anyway, and Peter can only imagine he did so with ease.

Peter might as well hand himself over. Whether the Avengers save May successfully or not, Ivanov will get to Peter somehow. And he only gets more ruthless with each attempt.

And so Peter comes up with his own plan. 

–

Peter is aware that he’s breaking the rules. Again. It takes every ounce in him to disobey, but he does it anyway.

The Avengers think they’re being discreet. That they can leave in the middle of the night and be back by morning with May safe and sound. Tony is absolutely positive that's what's going to happen. 

Peter feels bad, actually. For many reasons.

With his suit on he follows the Avengers as they make their way to wherever it is that May Parker is being kept. If FRIDAY notices, which she probably does, she doesn’t really get the chance to say anything. 

Peter ends up in Queens at some point and as he trails the invisible quinjet flying above him. Right next to some shop with a sign that reads Delmars. He’s never been in this exact area, but for some reason it's as if he knows his way around.

And then he’s outside some apartment nearby and he watches as the Avengers enter it. His eyes zero in on a window and he just knows.

Peter swings, sticking himself to the side of the building. Carefully he peers inside where Carter Ivanov stands in front of Tony. They’re surrounded by a well decorated home. There’s picture frames everywhere and nearly all of them feature… Him. But younger. With a man and a woman.

He supposes it makes sense that Ivanov would call from May Parker’s apartment. It makes even more sense that May isn’t actually there.

“You really think I’d have her out in the open for you to save?” Ivanov laughs. “I knew you wouldn’t hand the mutt over just like that.”

“Don’t call him that,” Tony growls and for a split second Peter feels warmth. He shakes it off.

Tony is compromised, tied to a chair without his armor, and the other Avengers are nowhere in sight. There is no doubt that this building is infested with HYDRA agents. So Peter does the only thing he can, because he can’t let Tony be killed after all he’s done for him, and he reminds himself of one important thing:

Before Peter Parker, before Spider Man, who he was is Паук. An assassin. A tortured but well trained assassin. 

Peter slides the window open so quietly the only reason Tony notices is because it's in his direct line of sight. The man’s eyes go wide and Peter presses a finger to his own lip, shaking his head. One wrong move and Ivanov will see him coming.

Ivanov continues to boast but Peter doesn’t pay much attention to what he’s saying. Tony stays as still as ever, barely even breathing. He creeps behind the man before he pounces. Much like a spider pounces at whatever bug is trapped in its web. And Peter really does put up a good fight because Robert taught him well, and so did Natasha, Clint, and the others.

But then again Ivanov is not to be messed with. It's a wonder that Peter manages to tackle him to the ground and grab his gun. Ivanov laughs, a manic sound.

“Kill me, Паук,” Ivanov dares as Peter, “Do it.”

Peter narrows his eyes, tightening his grip on the man beneath him. “My name is Peter Parker, you son of a bitch.”

That's when Peter should’ve pulled the trigger. But he hesitates. Spider Man doesn’t kill. He’s a hero. Reformed. The doubt that creeps up on him gives Ivanov just enough time to whisper one final word. The ninth word.

“Четыре.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he uses the last ounce of control to try to pull himself off. He doesn’t want to kill anymore, he can’t–

“Do it!” Ivanov shouts.

Peter pulls the trigger.

–

Tony watches the kid as he drops the gun, eyes wide, filled with sorrow and guilt, yet distant. Peter has the man’s blood splattered all over him and he breathes heavily, hands shaking.

“Peter…” Tony says gently. The kid flinches and Tony realizes. He’s scared of himself. Horrified. Not even just in this moment but he has been since the moment Tony moment. From the moment he was first forced to take a life, probably. “Look at me, kiddo.”

Peter only curls into himself, his hands clawing at his hair, his eyes squeezed shut as he rocks back and forth whispering to himself in Russian.

The door bursts open in behind him and Tony cranes his neck to find Natasha standing there in sweat. She seems too busy catching her breath as she sets Tony free to notice Peter. “All the agents are down, what–”

Her eyes lock on the kid and a knowing look crosses her face. Natasha must’ve been there, too, at some point in the Red Room. She never talks about it though, not even to Bruce.

Tony pushes through the thoughts, scrambling to the kid. He reaches out to comfort him but Peter pulls away, backing himself into the wall.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Peter sobs.

“Peter you’d never do that,” Tony insists, “I know you. I’m here for you. You don’t scare me.”

“I killed him,” Peter whispers. “He told me to do it so I did.”

“Let's get you cleaned up,” Natasha suggests. Yes, changing the subject is a good idea. For now at least. 

Peter obeys.

Chapter Text

I have a friend I call

When I’ve bored myself to tears

– Funeral, Phoebe Bridgers

Peter slips in and out of consciousness on the ride back to the tower. Tony is right there with him the entire time, running his fingers through his brown curls, whispering assurances he’s not even sure the kid is hearing.

Natasha is on the phone with Fury. He’s seen the former assassin angrier, but she’s still fuming and raising her voice. They’re all pissed at the asshole. How could have Fury kept the fact that Ivanov escaped from them? It's not as though it would have slipped his mind to tell those it affects most.

It affected Peter. It's still affecting Peter. Tony isn’t sure what Ivanov said to Peter before he shot him. He doesn’t know too much about their relationship they had in HYDRA. Tony does know that Ivanov is a horrible man that was probably the one to feed ninety percent of the lies that Peter seems to believe about himself.

Does Peter really see himself as a mutt? Tony can imagine he does. Howard Stark called him many nasty things in his childhood, and it still sticks to Tony to this day. Tony’s come to terms with that, and knows he isn’t a failure. Peter is still a kid, though.

No teenager should go through what Peter’s endured. It makes Tony angry to even think of it. Of any small details Tony has collected in the past few months. It makes him want to punch something – preferably Ivanov.

Instead, he continues to comfort Peter all the way until they land.

“T’ny?” the kid mumbles, still out of it.

“Shhhh,” Tony soothes, “Just rest, kiddo.”

Peter grunts, adjusting his position, and closes his eyes.

–

When Peter is safely in bed and FRIDAY is looking after him, Tony can finally breathe, albeit they’re shallow breaths, and each inhale stabs at his stomach. He’s unsure if it's more physical or emotional. Probably both.

Just to ease his mind, Tony takes one last glance at Peter who is out cold and softly closes the door. He swallows, leaning his forehead against the doorframe. Maybe he should go back–

“Do you remember what he said?”

Tony jumps, but only finds Natasha standing there, still in uniform. “What?” he says dumbly.

“He told me to kill him, so I did,” Natasha quotes, emphasizing every word. “The night he met Bucky, he said that it was a shame Bucky betrayed HYDRA. Because they’ve created something better.”

Tony blinks. Maybe this would make more sense if he slept. Or at the very least had half a gallon of coffee. 

“Of course HYDRA would learn from their mistake,” Natasha continues, almost sounding hysteric, “Bucky was their most lethal weapon. He did exactly what they told him to. And yet he still escaped. He still betrayed them. Because there was still part of him there.”

“What are you getting at?” Tony asks.

“Oh, come on Tony, you’re a genius, aren’t you?” Natasha scoffs. “Peter is the something better. Don’t you get it? They got him to completely forget his past before them at a very young age. HYDRA, in his perspective, is all he had. Of course he’s going to feel a sense of loyalty towards them. That’s what they wanted. And just in case that backfired on them, they’ve already rewired his mind. There’s a trigger. I don’t know what, but it's slowly eating away at his free will. Until he’s a mindless being that does their bidding.”

“Until he’s a mindless mutt,” Tony whispers, looking back at the door.

“It began far before he got here,” Natasha says, “I kept noticing him contradicting himself. Knowing Peter, he would’ve found a way to be Spider-Man still, but we told him no, and he listened, Tony.”

“When Peter is set on something, he goes after it,” Tony says, “He has more grit than necessary for a kid.”

Natasha nodded. “Tony… That kid in there, he is Peter. But not entirely. It’s only getting worse. If my theory is correct, he won’t turn on us yet, but if we told him to stab himself with a knife, he would. We can’t give him direct orders. We need to ask him if he wants to do something, not tell him.”

It all makes sense. Tony’s mind wanders to all the times he tells Peter to do something. Sure, the kid would give him sass but he’d do it. And when he did disobey, it was almost as if he was struggling to do so, and that was only when he really didn’t want to do it.

“You tell the team, and get Bucky’s input,” Tony points a finger in their general direction, “I’ll get Helen and Bruce. We’re going to fix this.”

Even if it's the last thing he does.

–

Bucky calls Shuri, who was the one who helped him be free of HYDRA’s mind games, and Steve gets the quinjet ready to fly them to Wakanda. 

Tony is torn between staying at Peter’s side and going out to find the kid’s aunt. Natasha tells him to leave May to her and Clint. Guilt still creeps up on Tony. He should’ve told her about finding Peter as soon as he did. Maybe then she would’ve been staying in the tower, safe from the hands of Ivanov.

Ivanov – their last lead on where exactly May is being held, with a bullet in his head. The other HYDRA agents killed themselves before any of the Avengers got a chance to question them.

“T’ny?” Peter’s voice croaks from the hospital bed. They’re in the same room they kept him when they first found him, Tony thinks as he stands, rushing over to the kid’s side.

Tony hushes him, carding his hand through the kid’s curls. Peter leans into it, his unfocused eyes blinking rapidly. His boy is still in there, it's just foggy.  “I’m right here, Roo. I’ve got you.”

Peter coughs, jerking away, “No.”

“No?” Tony raises a brow.

“I’m slipping away, T’ny,” Peter whispers, his eyes not focused on Tony but past him.

“Don’t say that,” Tony shakes his head, despite knowing it's true, “I won’t let you go. I won’t let you slip away.”

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep,” Peter says, “I’ve known this was coming for years. There was even a point I wanted it to. The day you found me I was going to turn myself in. I wanted the final words said to me.”

Tony swallows, “Words?” he asks, wanting clarification. He and Natasha have their theories, but what he needs is certainty.

“What Ivanov said to me,” Peter shrugs, “It was the ninth. There’s one more. And then I’ll just be an empty shell.”

“Don’t say that,” Tony snaps. “It won’t happen.”

“I love you, you know,” Peter smiles sadly, “Just remember that when it happens. I love you.”

Tony doesn’t even fight the tears. “I know you do. I love you, too. But it won’t happen.”

“Don’t be naive, Tony,” Peter tells him. He sounds more fond than annoyed. “I’m a curse anyways. Death follows me wherever I go. Only one of us can live.”

“You. You should live,” Tony says, “I’ll always choose you when it comes down to it. Always.”

“There isn’t a choice, though,” Peter whispers, “There’s only a tenth of my soul left. You… You have a future. With the team. With Miss Potts.”

“There’s always a choice,” Tony says, stubborn, “I’ll make the right one, one where we both live, even if it doesn’t exist at this very moment. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep,” Peter scolds.

Tony ignores him. “Repeat after me: My name is Peter Parker.”

Peter raises a brow, but obliges. He doesn’t really have a choice, anyways, Tony realizes too late. “My name is Peter Parker.”

“And I will not be afraid.”

“My name is Peter Parker and I will not be afraid.”

Its soon that Peter slips back into slumber, and Tony squeezes his hand.

–

Peter dreams of his days back in HYDRA. Of every kill, of every word being said to him. He dreams of Harry Osborn, the once very kind and gentle kid, who was corrupted by his father.

Peter knows that without HYDRA, he would not be who he is right now. He thinks he would be much more kind, much more gentle. He would still be Spider Man, not to clear his conscience, but because with these powers comes great responsibility.

He would’ve grown up with Ned and MJ. They’d be in high school together, Peter and MJ could be a couple, and he would remember every moment he’s spent with Ned. He wouldn’t be scared of hurting his Aunt May, she would’ve never been kidnapped. He would still know Tony, and they’d be like father and son. He’d be happy. In control.

It would be nice, Peter thinks. Somewhere out there, in some other universe, there is a Peter Parker with that life. That’s what gives him comfort as he sinks farther and farther into the abyss.

–

Harry Osborn still feels remorse, something his father severely lacks. He remembers a version of his father that had that remorse, who loved Harry very much, even if he had a hard time showing it.

He stares at his father now, and sees no remnants of that man. Just a cold, ruthless villain. It's not really his father. Harry’s father is dead. He has been since he experimented on himself. There is only the Green Goblin.

He tells the man as much. A gun to his head. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Kill me, son,” the Green Goblin smiles wickedly. “The plan is already set in motion. Peter Parker will be ours. A weapon. An animal meant to kill each Avenger and anyone else who gets in our way. Killing me now won’t stop it.”

“He’s just as human as us,” Harry growls. He pushes back the guilt. The memories of the times he saw Peter as nothing more than an asset.

“The Avengers are taking him to Wakanda right now,” Norman says, “But we’ll get there before they can even get on their quinjet.”

Harry doesn’t kill his father, but he knocks him out cold. And then he runs.

But before he can warn the Avengers, Peter is already gone.

“Who are you?” a voice snaps, breathing heavily, “Where is he?”

Tony Stark stands in front of him in the Iron Man suit, his gauntlet pointed at Harry. He raises his arms in surrender. “I’m on your side,” he promises.

The faceplate of the suit lifts and Stark raises a brow. “Right. And I’m supposed to just believe that after a bunch of HYDRA scum just took my kid!”

He’s yelling by the end of the sentence, and Harry is sure he would’ve killed him if someone else didn’t intervene. 

Bucky Barnes.

Harry almost gawks. This man is a legend. He’s met him once but he was much too young to remember. But his stories will live in Harry’s mind forever.

“Let's hear the kid out,” Barnes insists. Captain America and the Falcon step up behind him. 

Harry clears his throat. “I know Peter. I… He was my best friend. In HYDRA. I took him for granted. But I know how to save him. I know where to find him. I… I know how to undo the words.”

Tony juts out his chin. “I’m listening.”

And so Harry tells him everything there is to know and he does not hold back.

–

May Parker sits in a cell. She’s still in New York, she knows that. She also knows she’s probably going to die down here. If Peter is unfindable, so is she. And May is okay with that.

She doesn’t move much from her spot in the corner, her knees to her chest, and her hands tugging at her knotted hair. May closes her eyes, letting out a long breath.

They open instantly at the sound of yelling. It's been silent down here except for the sound of water dripping, and the occasional guard. Never yelling.

“Get off of me!” a male’s voice screams. It reminds May of when she was brought down here, back when she still had the energy to fight. She’d given that Ivanov bastard a black eye, and that felt good until reality set in.

“You are sick! I will kill you!” the yells continue. It's angrier with each word, laced with a russian accent. The chaos approaches her cell and a guard grabs a key, unlocking it. 

A boy, who cannot be older than a teenager, is thrown inside, onto the ground. The kid scrambles up just as the cell door slams back shut and is locked once more. 

“I’m still me!” the kid grabs onto the bars. They warp in his grip, but do not break. He must be enhanced, May’s mind supplies. “I have not let go! There’s another choice! There is! There is, there is, there is.”

The kid goes still, sinking onto the dirty floor. May is able to see his side profile. Scars cover his face, and his eyes flutter shut. “I will not be afraid,” he tells himself, just loud enough for May to hear. “My name is Peter Parker and I will not be afraid.”

It's at that moment that May’s heart drops, and she finally lets the tears fall.

She doesn’t say anything, she just watches the boy. Her boy. All grown up. His voice is different, but she knows it's him.

A guard passes and Peter stands back up. “Hey, asshole! Want to help me add more kills to my list!? Yeah, that's what's funny about all of this. I can’t feel any guilt anymore. Maybe I should be happy. I’ve killed hundreds, what's one more?”

More tears fall at those words and May hears Peter laugh bitterly to himself. His head turns and his eyes meet hers. They go wide.

“Um,” is all he says.

May smiles sadly, “Peter.”

Peter backs away, as far as he can. He shakes his head, “No. No, this isn’t happening.”

May stands, her muscles weak but stable enough. She takes a step forward but Peter raises a hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Peter says. “Stay away.”

“Peter,” she says again, “Honey. You’re all grown up.”

“May… I…” Peter says. He perks up, his head turning. “He’s coming.”

May is confused for a moment, but sure enough, a man approaches the cell. She recognizes him instantly. Norman Osborn. The owner of Oscorp is a part of HYDRA?

“Have you had a nice family reunion?” the man says, smiling. A shiver goes down May’s spine. 

“Fuck you,” Peter spits. May wants to cry even more, because her little boy always hated cuss words.

Osborn ignores the comment. “It feels odd, doesn’t it, Паук? Slipping in and out of consciousness. One minute you’re yourself, the next you feel the urge to kill the ones you love.”

His eyes flicker to May.

“Don’t look at her,” Peter growls.

“Even now, as yourself, you imagine what it would be like,” Osborn says, “You want to kill her, don’t you?”

“What I want is to kill you and every last HYDRA member,” Peter says.

“Cut off one head and three more will grow.”

Peter steps closer to the bars. “Go to hell, Osborn. I’m not your pawn anymore.”

“But you’ll do what I say,” Osborn shrugs, “If I told you to kill her or to kill yourself you would. You said you can’t feel guilt anymore. But in reality it just comes at certain moments. Just like when you killed Ivanov, it comes clawing at you until you can no longer breathe. Thank you, by the way.”

Peter blinks. “Thank you?”

“For killing that excuse of a man,” Osborn says, “Sometimes he forgot he wasn’t the one in charge.”

Peter is silent. May hasn’t moved an inch.

“Before I leave,” Osborn continues, “I have one command–”

Osborn never gets to say it, however, because there’s a gunshot, and he’s on the ground. Another boy, Peter’s age, lowers the gun.

“Should’ve done that the first million chances I got,” he breathes heavily.

“Harry?” Peter smiles, a remnant of the old him. “You're alive.”

“Thought I’d die that easily?” Harry smirks, grabbing the keys and unlocking the door. “I just got some cool scars to match yours.”

May couldn’t help but think Harry’s scars were much worse than Peter’s. Half his face was disfigured, as though it’d been severely burned.

“I don’t understand,” Peter whispers, “You… Killed him. For me?”

“He hasn’t been my father in a long time, Peter,” Harry shrugs, “I’m sorry for how I treated you. But I’m glad you got away. You’ve got it good, by the way, Stark is hysterical.”

“You saw Tony?” Peter frowns, hope igniting in his eyes.

“I don’t know what that man wouldn’t do for you,” is all Harry says. His eyes go back to his father’s dead body then back at Peter, “You’re lucky.”

“Wait,” May blurts out. The boys turn and look at her. “Tony Stark? You…”

“Don’t be mad at him,” Peter pleads, “He wanted to tell you when he found me. But… I told him no. And then I agreed to see you and you were gone. And then Tony got kidnapped, I got sort of… brainwashed? More brainwashed? Really it's a long story just don’t blame Tony, please?”

May breathes out a laugh, her eyes prickling.

“What?” Peter smiles back.

“You’re rambling,” May says, “That's always been one of my favorite things about you. You have so much to say.”

Peter’s smile falls. “Look, May. Apparently, I have issues with being blunt, so I’ll say this gently. I… I have no memories of before. I know you’re my aunt, I know you mean something to me, but…”

May smiles sadly, “Peter, if you don’t remember before, it's okay. We have a future ahead of us. New memories to make. That's what matters.”

“Right,” Peter whispers. He steps closer, as if he’s about to hug her, but steps back and clears his throat.

“Let's get you out of here,” Harry says to Peter, “Before it's too late.”

May nods, not once taking her eyes off her boy.

Chapter Text

She knows she lived through it

To get to this moment

– Graceland, Phoebe Bridgers

Somehow, Peter makes it out alive. 

HYDRA is not gone by any means. It would be too easy. Logically, Peter knows someone has already taken Osborn’s place, but he lets himself feel happy for a moment for the victory of the cruel man’s death, even if quite small in the grand scheme of things. 

And then there’s that darker part of him – the one that’s not truly him, but those ten words – that’s angry. That’s still in allegiance with those who tore him apart. 

Which is what makes Peter wonder: Who is he really? Without these words. Peter almost tells Bruce that he’d rather keep them, let them eat away at his mind. Because even with the words gone and not in control of him, Peter will still be who he is because those words did shape him.

HYDRA shaped him. And that’s not something that can be undone surgically. Or really at all.

“You’ve always been you, Peter,” Harry tells him. “Those words only influenced you.”

Peter is silent for a moment. “You knew?” He’s not angry or even all that sad, he simply needs to know.

Harry looks away, and Peter can tell the boy is ashamed of himself. “Not until after you ran away. When I was recovering. I…”

He looks away again, letting out a puff of air. “Before you left Peter, I treated you horribly. Like I was my father.”

“Because…” Peter says slowly, all of it falling into place.

“He did to me what he did to you – Or, well something similar, at least,” Harry shrugs. “My father was once a nice man, believe it or not. Something took over him, though. He did it to himself, too, you know. Whether or not it was intentional, I’ll never know.

“Anyways, I think I hit my head just the right way,” Harry manages to laugh, “Because then I realized how horrible it all was. That’s how I found a way to reverse it for you, that’s how I found out there was something to be reversed and who you truly were. Peter Parker.”

Peter smiles. “Thank you.”

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but Tony appears in the doorway, followed by May. He clears his throat, “I’ll give you some privacy.”

Harry leaves and May waves politely as Tony narrows his eyes. 

“Is that the guy who used sex as a weapon?” Tony points in Harry’s general direction.

Peter lets out a surprised laugh. “You remember that?” he asks as if he’s surprised. He’s not.

Tony grins, rolling his eyes, “Duh. Did I tell you how mean Pete was when I first met him?” he asks May, “Vicious and blunt.”

May smiles, but it's a bit weak. Peter prays Tony hasn’t told her the extent of what he did. Such as him getting drunk on the balcony or running around as Spider Man.

He knows they’ll have to have that conversation at some point, though.

“Are you ready?” May asks gently. She begins to raise her hand, as if to cup his cheek. Peter wants her to, truly.

“I’m ready,” he nods. “When the words are gone… I’ll let you come closer, I just…”

“Don’t want to hurt me?” May asks. Peter nods, guilty. “That’s okay, sweetie. I understand. And don’t say sorry.”

Peter closes his mouth because he was going to. Even if he had the choice, he would’ve stopped. She’s stern like that.

“Let's get this show on the road,” Tony says, pulling up a wheelchair. Silence passes, and then, “Do you think they’re literal words? Like, there will be letters in your brain?”

“Was that your attempt at a dad joke?” Peter raises a brow as he settles into the chair.

“It totally was,” May teases.

“You’re practically a dad anyway,” Peter feels compelled to say. Tony looks at him for a long moment, something swimming in his eyes. He doesn’t respond with words, and instead ruffles Peter’s hair, who dodges it with a laugh.

As he’s wheeled to the room a few down, Peter cranes his neck, looking between his aunt and… father. “After it's over, do you think I could see Ned and MJ?”

May nods immediately, “I actually just spoke to them on the phone.”

“It’d make them really happy,” Tony adds.

Peter nods in agreement, turning back forward.

For once, even with the words still lingering, he feels content.

–

Peter doesn’t actually feel all that different after they remove the words. But he supposes it's like a birthday; becoming one year older doesn’t make you suddenly feel older and more mature. It's a gradual thing.

He still feels the need to comply with requests and typical things one would ask a teenager to do, but May assures him he was always like that, even before. It also helps that he knows he can say no if he wants to.

Peter also finds himself letting May hug him and run her hands through his curls. Sometimes images of hurting her run through his head, but he knows they’re just intrusive thoughts. Plus, he’s already talked that one through with the therapist that Tony hired for him.

Tony, who Peter feels the least different around in the best way possible. He was already content with the man even before they got rid of the words. He supposes he’s just more comfortable with showing it now. He hasn’t yet called him “dad” and he’s not sure he ever will, but he still sees him as his dad.

May doesn’t question this once, or even the fact that he spends just as much time with him as he does with her. It makes more sense, however, when he hears May say in passing that he owes Tony Stark everything for finding her boy. That title still makes Peter feel all fuzzy inside.

The Avengers, too, aren’t much different. Their bond is just more close knit now. They even welcome Harry with open arms just as they did with Peter.

Natasha, like Tony did with Peter, is the one to take Harry under her wing. Harry feels comfortable with her, and she’s (not so)surprisingly motherly, giving him nicknames and being the one he goes to when he has troubles, for which Peter is glad. Bruce becomes Harry’s lab buddy as well, and Peter often finds himself wondering when Bruce and Nat will get married and adopt him. Tony says as such multiple times.

Then come Ned and MJ, who according to May and Tony were very happy when they told them he was willing to meet up. So here Peter sits, bouncing his leg up and down, until Tony grabs onto his shoulder in a comforting way.

“It's alright, kiddo,” Tony says gently.

When Ned and MJ arrive Peter relaxes. He can’t help it; MJ is too chill to not be chill around, and Ned is always chatting and already has the whole day planned out.

Tony lets Peter go out with them, but only with Happy and Clint trailing close behind.

“This is Delmar’s Deli,” Ned says, pointing to the store coming up, “The three used to come here all the time and get sandwiches. Me and MJ still do, because we’re Delmar’s favorites. Do you want to go in? I’m kind of hungry.”

“You don’t have to,” MJ says, “He might recognize you.”

Peter smiles at the offer to get out of it, “No. It's okay. I’d like to see what it's all about. You said sandwiches, Ned?”

Ned nods enthusiastically, “The best sandwiches.”

“For once he’s not over exaggerating,” MJ smirks. Peter laughs and they both follow Ned inside.

The door rings and a voice yells out, “I’ll be right with you in a moment!”

“That’s Mr. Delmar,” Ned stage whispers.

Peter nods, and looks around. It's a well lit place with many items to shop for. And there’s even a ginger cat that curls around his legs and meows enthusiastically. Peter bends down and gives it a gentle scratch on the head before standing back upright.

At some point Mr. Delmar came up behind the cash register and started taking the order from MJ. “Who’s your fr–”

He cuts himself off abruptly when he actually looks at Peter’s face. May has shown him many photos from his younger years(it helps that they’re all over her apartment) so he knows he looks quite similar to when he was ten and is very much recognizable despite having grown up a bit and, well, the scars. The accent could possibly throw some people off too. Not that he’s met many people from his past to test this theory.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Mr. Delmar finally says, “Excuse me for saying this but you remind me of a boy who once came here with these two.”

“Actually, Mr. Delmar…” MJ says, looking back at Peter.

“Ned just told me all about it,” Peter smiles. “Sorry I don’t remember you, but it sounds like we had a good time here as kids.”

“You’re Peter Parker,” Mr. Delmar says, not a question. He walks around the counter and puts his hands on Peter’s shoulder, “I’m going to make you the best sandwich to ever be made, son.”

Peter laughs brightly, and something inside him wants to cry happy tears.

–

Peter truly realizes he’s home when Tony and May talk to him about joining Ned and MJ for their senior year. 

“If you wanted you could probably just take a test and get your diploma yesterday,” Tony says, grinning, “You’re smart like that. But we want to give you the chance to have a year of school and just be, well, a teenager.”

“I think it's a wonderful idea,” May tells him, “You’ll be with your friends and will have the chance to make more.”

“Will Harry join me?” Peter asks. Because he knows he can’t do this without the boy.

“Natasha already talked about it with him,” May says, “He says that if you go he’ll go.”

“Well I’ll go if he goes,” Peter says.

“It's settled then,” Tony says, clearly satisfied with this answer, “Our kiddo is going to high school!”

When he leaves, Peter turns to May. “I thought he’d be more hesitant.”

May snorts, “Peter, he’s already gone through every possible security measure you could ever possibly think of.”

“Of course he has,” Peter rolls his eyes, and they both laugh.

–

The first time Peter calls Tony “dad” is when he’s rushing him out the door for his first day of school.

He doesn’t mean to say it out loud. But, on the other hand, Tony has become “dad” inside Peter’s mind. So maybe its a good thing that it just slips right out of him, rather than him needing to build up the enormous amount of courage it would take him to say it otherwise.

“You’re sure you have everything you need?” Tony asks for the millionth time. The Avengers all call him a helicopter parent, and Peter has to agree. May usually levels him out, but she has a shift at the hospital at the moment, so it's just Peter and Tony rushing out the door so he won’t be late. “You’ve got lunch? All your textbooks? Pencils? Everything?”

Peter rolls his eyes, “Yes, dad. Jesus Christ.”

Tony opens his mouth, most likely to say something snarky back before he freezes. Its then that Peter realizes what he just said, his eyes inhumanly wide.

“Um,” Peter says dumbly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

Tony cuts him off, “Don’t be sorry. You can call me that anytime you would like, kiddo. If you want me as your father… I’d be more than happy to fill that role.”

“You have been…” Peter smiles softly, “Filling that role for me. Ever since you found me.”

Tony smiles back, pulling him into a tight hug. His fingers run through Peter’s brown curls. He makes Peter feel as though he’s something to be cherished. Tony’s shown him he’s someone to protect. That he’s… someone.

He makes Peter feel human. Makes him feel like he’s capable of being good. Of righting all his wrongs.

Tony pulls away slightly, but his arms stay firmly on Peter’s forearms. “Pete, I need you to know that the moment I agreed to go out looking for you, that was the best decision of my life. But I’d say you found me. Not the other way around.”

“You practically sent me smoke signals,” Peter smirks.

Tony laughs, “Okay now we’re really going to be late. Come on, Underoos.”

Peter follows Tony out the door.

I turned around, there was nothing there

Yeah, I guess the end is here

– I Know The End, Phoebe Bridgers