Work Text:
Recovered from the A.I. Memory Cache of F.R.I.D.A.Y., Stark Industries
(Time-stamped: Before, During, After, Always.)
(Classified: Level Omega. Access granted.)
[File Name: ORIGIN.txt]
> Run command: Define Subject(s): Tony Stark, Peter Parker
> Processing…
Tony Stark: Genius. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist.
Peter Parker: Gifted child. Radioactive miracle. Queens-born. Heart bigger than body.
Shared Traits: Terminal case of self-sacrificing heroism. Dangerous levels of stubbornness. Inventor tendencies. Deep-seated need to fix what is broken.
Projected Outcome: Unstable. Irrevocable. Family, whether they mean to be or not.
> Data confirmed. Initializing…
[File Name: FIRST CONTACT.log]
There are things Tony Stark doesn’t expect in life.
A kid launching himself into a fight against his orders? Expected.
A kid breaking into a car he built with retina scanners? Expected.
A kid saying no to an upgrade? Unheard of.
"Look, kid, I don’t usually do the whole mentor thing—"
Peter tilts his head. "Kinda seems like you do?"
Tony squints at him. "Oh, so you’re one of those."
Peter shrugs. "One of what?"
"Smartasses."
Peter grins, bright and unbothered. "I prefer ‘intellectually gifted with a penchant for wit.’"
Tony drags a hand down his face. "Jesus, I’ve adopted a little me."
Peter laughs, completely missing the way Tony startles at his own words.
Adopted.
He doesn’t know why he said it.
[File Name: INITIATION.txt]
He is a boy. Too young to be here. Too young to have calloused fingers, too young to have veins full of radioactive whispers, too young to balance equations of morality before he’s even finished his chemistry homework. Too young to be wearing that suit, looking up at him with those big, brown eyes, full of want and something Tony recognizes too well: a hunger.
God, he remembers being fifteen. He remembers being reckless, raw potential with no shape, just excess, an explosion waiting for a match. He remembers his father, a voice like iron filings against ice, saying, “You’re not ready.”
He does not say this to Peter. Instead, he builds him a suit with training wheels. Kid-proof, bullet-resistant, one step below lethal.
The kid is good. Not just in skill. Good. In a way Tony has never been. And God, doesn’t that just terrify him?
[File Name: LESSONS.exe]
> Run command: Teach Spider-Boy
> Processing…
> Error: Subject does not listen.
"Okay, you’re coming in too hot," Tony tells him, watching Peter scramble over the comms, breathless. "Physics is your best friend, kid. Kinetic energy is not. You go slingshotting yourself across Queens at Mach two, and what happens if you miscalculate?"
"I don’t miscalculate," Peter chirps, swinging too fast anyway.
"Yet. You don’t miscalculate yet."
Peter laughs, something weightless, and Tony hates how it rattles in his chest.
[File Name: LESSONS_REVISED.exe]
Tony teaches by doing. Peter learns by trying. Together, they destroy lab equipment at an alarming rate.
"Okay, but if I adjust the tensile strength—"
"You’ll blow up the tensile strength, kid—"
Boom.
"...Oops?"
Tony sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You remind me of me, and it is so frustrating."
Peter grins through the smoke. "Because you see my genius?"
Tony deadpans. "Because I see my hospital bills."
[File Name: CRITICAL_ERROR.log]
Peter’s voice on the other end of the comms is static and screaming. Everything’s fine until it’s not. Until Peter isn’t cracking a joke. Until he’s wheezing, "I think I messed up, Mr. Stark."
Tony’s already moving before he knows where he’s going. Every inch of his body is fire and steel, but nothing—nothing—moves fast enough when it’s someone else in danger.
He finds the kid pinned. Suit torn, blood in his teeth, rubble pressing the air out of his lungs. "Hey, hey, kid, I got you—don’t move—"
But Peter does move. Pushes himself up, shaking, more stubborn than his body allows.
"I can still help," Peter says, and Tony hates how much he believes it.
This is the moment Tony understands. That this kid will never, ever quit, even when he should. That he will die before he stops trying. That Tony has built a world where children think they have to save it.
And he will never forgive himself for that.
[File Name: PROTECTIVE_MEASURES.sub]
Tony is not a father.
But there are things he does that don’t need the label.
GPS in the suit. (Peter whines about it. Tony calls it "insurance.")
Upgraded webbing. (Stronger, faster, impact-resistant. Just in case.)
Emergency parachute. (Because falling is not an option.)
Friday tracking his vitals. (No one is losing another kid on his watch.)
Peter doesn’t notice the changes. But May does.
"Thank you," she says, voice tight.
Tony clears his throat. "For what?"
"For watching out for him."
Tony could argue, could deflect, could pretend he’s not trying to be something he swore he never would.
But he just nods.
[File Name: PARENTAL_SUBROUTINE.json]
(Error: Undefined Variable: ‘Father Figure’)
Tony doesn’t know how to be a dad. Hell, he barely knew how to be a son.
But Peter texts him at odd hours. Not just about missions, but about homework. About May. About Star Wars. Sometimes, he sends a meme that Tony knows is outdated, and Tony roasts him for it, and Peter just types back ok boomer and Tony should be annoyed, but—
But the kid is talking to him.
The kid wants to talk to him.
And Tony—God help him—wants to talk back.
[File Name: NIGHT VISIT.mp4]
(Security Footage: Stark Tower, 2:17 AM.)
Peter is in the lab again.
He’s not working, though. He’s just... sitting.
Curled up in the corner, hoodie too big, hands clenched in the fabric. He stares at the Iron Man gauntlet on the worktable like it means something.
Tony watches from the doorway.
"Kid, if you’re gonna loiter in my lab like a raccoon, at least pretend you’re being productive."
Peter jolts. "I—oh, uh. Sorry."
Tony gestures. "What's up?"
Peter shrugs, looking too small all of a sudden.
"Bad dream," he mutters.
Tony understands. He understands too well.
"Yeah," he says, tossing Peter a screwdriver. "Well, if you're up, help me fix this stupid joint hinge before I throw it at the wall."
Peter blinks. "That... sounds like a really bad coping mechanism."
"Yeah, well, so does jumping off buildings for fun, but here we are."
Peter snorts. But he takes the screwdriver.
And neither of them go back to bed.
[File Name: BATTLE_DAMAGE.doc]
Peter shows up injured too many times.
Bruises.
Cuts.
Concussions.
Broken ribs.
May doesn’t know about all of them. But Tony does.
Tony knows.
The way the kid plays it off, like it doesn’t matter. The way he expects pain. Like it’s just part of the job. Part of his life.
Tony stitches him up in silence one night. Peter doesn’t say anything until it’s over.
"Mr. Stark?"
"Yeah?"
"...Does it ever stop hurting?"
Tony's hands freeze for a fraction of a second.
Then he sighs, pressing a piece of gauze against Peter’s arm. "No. But you get used to it."
Peter doesn’t look reassured.
Tony doesn’t know how to lie to him.
[File Name: ENDGAME_FINAL.log]
(Data Corrupted. Partial Reconstruction Available.)
Peter is dust.
One second, he’s there. The next, he’s slipping through Tony’s fingers, disintegrating, unraveling, the universe stealing him away.
Tony holds onto nothing.
(He should have built him something stronger.)
(He should have been enough.)
[File Name: RETURN_PROTOCOL.txt]
Tony knows he’s hallucinating at first.
Because Peter Parker is dead.
Because Peter Parker does not come stumbling through a battlefield, bloodied and breathing, looking at him with those same big, brown, hopeful eyes.
"Mr. Stark!" Peter cries.
And Tony can’t move. Because his body is already remembering the weight of ash. Because he cannot let go again.
Peter collides with him, holding on too tight. His voice cracks: "It was like—I was gone, and then—Dr. Strange said it’s been years, and—"
And Tony doesn’t let go.
He has already lost this kid once.
Never again.
[File Name: SNAP_CRITICAL_ERROR.log]
Everything is breaking.
The gauntlet is burning him alive. Peter is running toward him, battered and breathless, and Tony wants to tell him to stay back, kid, stay back—
But Peter grabs him. "Mr. Stark! We won! You did it! You—"
Tony can’t speak.
Peter’s face falls. He understands too fast.
Tony has time for three things:
To see Peter’s eyes, wet and desperate.
To think, Oh, kid. My boy.
To let go.
Then—
Then nothing.
[File Name: LEGACY_MODE.exe]
Tony Stark is gone.
But Peter Parker is not.
Peter carries him in the tech, in the lessons, in the ache behind his ribs. In the quiet moments when he hears a voice in the back of his head say, Come on, kid. Be better than me.
And so he is.
And so he tries.
And so he keeps going.
[Final File Name: ALWAYS.txt]
(Encrypted. Last Access: Peter Parker, 3:00 AM.)
"Hey, Mr. Stark.
I, um. I know you’re not here. But I keep thinking about things I never got to say.
So I’ll just say this:
Thank you.
For seeing me. For believing in me. For giving me something to live up to.
I hope I make you proud.
I miss you.
Love you, man.
…Okay, I’m gonna go now before I start crying again.
Night, Mr. Stark."
> End Transmission.
> File Archived.
> Run Command: Remember.
> Searching for Unfinished Projects…
> Found: One (1) Blueprint.
PROJECT TITLE: "A.R.C.H.I.V.E. - Stark/Parker Initiative."
DESCRIPTION: Incomplete.
NOTES: "In case he ever needs me."
> Run Command: Complete?
> (Y/N)
And somewhere, in the silence of an empty lab, a cursor blinks.