Archive of Our Own ^beta

I. 

There is a cat in Tony’s kitchen.

Tony isn’t sure if this is a strange prank by Peter, or if his sleep-deprived brain has finally decided to punish his late night lab sessions with hallucinations, but he can’t deny what is in front of his eyes.

An almost comically large black cat sits on his charcoal quartz countertops. He doesn’t notice it at first, powering up his espresso machine with a nod to Natasha, who is sitting with a pile of papers at the island with her usual impassive stare. And then he reaches into the cabinet for a mug and he's bringing it down and–

Meow! The cat yelps. It’s disturbingly fat. Tony sets the mug down. Makes eye contact with it. Decides he is definitely not hallucinating.

“Tasha,” he begins, voice clipped, “there is a cat in my kitchen.”

“Always one to make astute observations, Stark,” Natasha muses, not looking up from her paperwork.

“What the fuck is a cat doing in my kitchen?” He asks, but Natasha has put on a glare of I’m not having this conversation with you, so Friday answers.

“It appears as though Peter brought the cat in after patrol last night, Boss. He hid him in his room overnight.”

What. The Fuck.

“Okay, great. Be a mentor, Tony, they said. It will be fun, they said. Sometimes your interns will drop your worst allergy into your home without warning! All giggles!”

Natasha says nothing. She’s smiling, though, which is the equivalent of her laughing uproariously in his face.

The cat stares at Tony. Tony stares back. The espresso machine beeps with the completion of his coffee. He takes a long sip, not waiting for it to cool. He’s going to need it, his eyes are already starting to itch.

When Tony first met the kid, he was angry. Angry at Rogers, for the betrayal he had hid from him for the entirety of their friendship. Angry at himself for believing his father had been the one to kill his mother. Angry at Natasha and Clint and Sam and Wanda for being on “Team Cap,” as the media dubbed it. Blinded by his rage, he found himself making his way to Queens and roping a 14-year old vigilante who rescued kittens from trees into an international battle for him to fight some of Earth’s greatest heroes.

And then, by some miracle, Tony had become, for lack of a better word, attached. Tony had brought Peter into the whole Avengers-mess. Next thing he knew, the kid's ridiculously hot aunt trusted him to keep her kid safe. Tony found himself handing the kid his number to call instead of Happy, inviting Peter to work in his lab, and god forbid, giving relationship advice.

And the next thing he knew, Peter was stopping by during the week, and staying at the Tower on the weekends, so Tony could monitor Peter’s patrols, and they could “hang out,” as the kid called it. And Tony found himself actually worrying when Peter wasn’t safe in his room at the Tower. Tony didn’t know whose idea it was to give Peter a room, or have him stay over for weekends– his, Peters, May’s, hell, it was probably Pepper, sensible as ever–

Sensible Pepper. She was gonna murder him if he went into anaphylactic shock. The kid had her wrapped around her finger though. Pepper might even keep the beast around if Peter asked, damned be Tony.

Tony found Peter in the lab, instructing DUM-E to help him tinker with his suit, which by the looks of it, had been a victim of Peter’s patrol.

“Oh hey Pete,” he said breezily, dropping down on the workbench next to the kid, who barely looked up from his tools.

“Just a thought. Next time you have the great idea to introduce another living being in the Tower, maybe let me know in advance, so Friday doesn’t activate Kill All Intruders Mode.”

Peter's head shot up. “Mr Stark! What ‘Kill All Intruders Mode? And uhhh, I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t brought any living beings into the Tower. But if I did, would they uhh.. Would they be killed by Friday by now? Hypothetically speaking.”

“I’m just kidding, kid. Friday only activates Kill All Intruders Mode when a legitimate threat is introduced to a member of the Tower. You know, like if a cat was in here, considering I’m extremely allergic to cats.”

Peter stilled, looking at Tony from the corner of his eye. “Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark, are you really allergic? I didn’t see that on your Wikipedia page. And I checked before bringing Snuffles here, Mr Stark, I didn’t know! And now an innocent cat is dead because of me!”

Tony, who was struggling to hold back his laughter, patted Peter on the arm. “Relax kid. I saw the cat 5 minutes ago, who was lounging about my quartz countertops, by the way. Getting his long, allergen-ridden fur everywhere. I made eye contact with his strange, squinty eyes! Pete, what were you thinking?”

“Well, I was on patrol last night,” Peter started, waving his hands around to demonstrate– webslinging? Surfing? Tony doesn’t pay too much attention. “Get to it, kid.”

”When I found this crazy lady on her porch, who was losing her shi- uh- her mind. She was totally freaking out about her husband cheating. And he was there, and he was like, ‘I never cheated!’ And she was like, ‘Oh really? Then what about the cat hair I found on your clothes, Robert? The fur was WHITE. And our cat is BLACK.’ And then she started screaming about skinning the cat and then skinning Robert. So, uh, I swooped in, snatched the knife, webbed her up, and uhh… Snuffles came with me.” Peter looked away, a suspiciously guilty look on his face. “She also tried to skin me but her strategy was pretty weak so I just ended up getting like, sliced by her knife, but also it was pretty dull so like she didn’t even get a good sliver of the suit, let alone my skin. So I’m like totally fine, and so is Snuffles, right? There’s not really a Kill Intruder Mode or whatever, right Mr. Stark?”

Tony ignores the question. “She tried to skin you?”

“It’s really not that bad. I’m mostly healed up anyways, I-”

“Fri, how bad is it?”

“Peter has suffered deep lacerations to his left forearm, including complete removal of the epidermis, as well as several mild abrasions on his wrists, hands, and fingers.”

“Complete removal of the epidermis?” Tony grabs Peter’s left wrist, careful not to touch the obviously wounded skin. Peter is right, it’s already started to heal, and Tony can almost see the skin stitching itself back together, but the sight of his kid's arm, red and shiny and raw makes Tony so dizzy he nearly blacks out. “Peter, how the hell did the lady get close enough to do this much damage? And why the fuck did you not notify me or Helen or SOMEONE about this?”

Peter has an almost blissful look on his face. “I had to rescue Snuffles, Mr Stark. She had him under one arm! And he’s heavier than he looks, which is crazy cause he looks really freaking fat. But I swear, honest to God- no, honest to Thor, that I am fine, and it barely even stings, but that might just be because I took three jars of ibuprofen.” The last part is said so quickly, and Peter has turned away, that it takes Tony a minute to comprehend. He feels dizzy again.

“You took 3 jars? Pete- what- kid, you are gonna be the death of me. You know the damage that could've done to your organs? Your stomach, Peter! It’s probably bleeding! Your kidneys, Peter! They’re probably dying! Come on. Let’s go. Medbay, now.”

“But Mr Staaaaark,” Peter whines from behind him, as Tony finishes the last of his coffee before stepping out of the lab.

“I don’t wanna hear it, kid. We’re getting Helen to look at this, and I’m gonna take a Benadryl.”

Peter appears at his side, perked up. “Does this mean you wanna keep Snuffles?”

“Friday?” Tony looks up at the ceiling, exasperated.

“Yes, boss?”

“Call May Parker and inform her that her nephew will be bringing a non-Stark sanctioned cat home today, and she better be ready, because it looks like that thing eats more than Peter.”

“Calling Aunt Hottie,” Friday responds, a hint of amusement in her disembodied voice.

Peter wrinkles his nose. “Ew, Mr. Stark. I bet Pepper doesn’t like hearing Friday call Aunt May that.”

“And I bet Aunt May doesn’t like hearing me call her to tell her how you let yourself get skinned, to save a cat. But look where we’ve ended up.”

“Mr Staaaaark, c'mon-”

“That’s enough, kid. I’ve only had one cup of coffee today. You know I need at least 2 to hold a conversation with you.”

Peter frowns. They’ve reached the medical floor.

“You know I definitely don’t need to see Dr. Cho, right.”

“Nuh-uh, Underoos. You know the rules.”

Peter glares, but it's quickly replaced with a bright smile once he sees Helen, who smiles back at him. The kid is here often enough for the med staff to have bonded with him. And now he’s nearly been skinned alive. And there’s a cat in Tony’s kitchen.

Tony sighs, and picks up his phone. Time to tell May.

II.

Tony loves Pepper, he really does, but if he has to sit through this goddamned meeting with the Rogues— Tony's name for the Avengers these days— at 8 in the morning, he’s gonna lose his mind. Might even break the informal peace treaty between everyone and say some words he’s not sure he’d regret sharing.

He’d awoken to a cheerful Pepper. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” He’d groused, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

She smiled. “You’ll be meeting the rest of the team today.”

Tony groaned. “And right when I thought you had good news for me.”

Pepper sighs, reaching across the space on the mattress between them to pat his arm. “I’m not sure why you’re so resistant to the idea as though Natasha hasn’t been living in the Tower with us for weeks already, eating meals with us, and, most importantly, meeting Peter.”

“First of all Pep, it’s not like I asked to break bread with an international fugitive. She just showed up, somehow. Second of all, I absolutely did not want Nat to know about Peter, she just knew.” Tony is annoyed. Pepper is smiling in his face.

“I think it’ll be really good to have everyone back,” she says, a little wistfully, as though he hasn’t said anything. “It’ll be like old times.”

“I never took you for a traitor Ms. Potts,” Tony says. Pepper gets out of bed. “Keep it civil today, alright? I’d like the Tower still standing when they move in.”

“I can't promise that, Pep.”

“Tony.”

“Look, I won’t fire the first shot, good?”

Pepper glares at him. “Not good. No shots. And no complaining. This is your only meeting this week. I have six.”

Tony groans, and tries to smother himself with his pillow.

Anyway. Tony is here, at the meeting, trying to make it work for Pepper, and maybe a little for Nat too. Loathe as he was to admit it, he had missed her quiet presence around the tower as well. It had been good to have her back. He didn’t want to piss her off; he suspected she also secretly wished everyone was back together again.

Tony is trying to not anxiously shake his leg–Don’t show weakness, he hears Howard Stark remind him–, but he’s so tense it’s hard not to. Rogers is talking about his pardoning, but he keeps glancing at Tony every few seconds as though he’s nervous too. Clint loudly snacks on a bagel, it’s a little disgusting, and Tony tries not to look. But as he turns away from the man, he makes eye contact with Steve again. Ugh.

His phone rings– the ringtone is some gaudy pop song Peter picked, specifically for notifications from the kid– and Tony jumps to answer it. “Just a sec, gotta take this,” he says tensely, and darts out of the room.

It’s 8 am on a Monday. The kid should be in school, not calling his Tony. Flashes of Peter being skinned cross his mind as he answers.

“Hey kid, thanks for pulling me out of the worst meeting I’ve ever been in. God, those Avengers are real drags, aren't they? Aren’t you supposed to be in school, by the way?”

Peter's voice is bright, and the tiny part of Tony that was riddled with anxiety for Peter, is calmed. “Hi Mr Stark! I am in school. Did you mention the Avengers? Like, Captain America?” He lowers his voice. “Mr Stark. Will I get to meet Captain America?”

The annoyance from earlier this morning returns. “Um. Hello. You’re speaking to the one and only Iron Man, by the way. As in, the same man who built you a high-tech, AI-powered suit and then let you move into my house?"

“Yeah,” Peter says emphatically, “But this is Captain America we’re talking about. He’s like an American legend. A good man. The hero to end all–” Tony cuts him off, because he loves the kid, he does, and he doesn’t want to say something he’ll regret.

“Pete. It's school hours. What's with the call? Are you okay? Haven’t been skinned again, right?”

“Don’t worry Mr. Stark. I’m fine. We’re technically having a fire drill so we’re all waiting around outside, but I think they don’t wanna go inside because someone put weed in the vents and the heaters turned on and then people were getting, like, lowkey high–”

Tony’s brow furrows. “Are you being hotboxed at school? Don’t you go to the nerdiest school there is in town?”

Peter laughs. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. But us nerds have to let off some steam somehow.”

“Do not tell me you are smoking weed.”

“Of course not. It doesn’t work with my metabolism. Don’t ask me how I know that.”

Tony doesn’t want to know.

“Anyways. I’m calling to let you know I will not be coming to the Tower this week.”

The part of Tony that secretly looks forward to Peter’s visits, though he’ll never admit it, wilts. “Oh you don’t say? Maybe I can finally start that guided meditation course I’ve been wanting to start. God, how I’ve missed peace and quiet.”

Peter laughs again. “Yeah, yeah, Stark,” Since when does he say Stark? Tony questions. The kid must be spending too much time with Natasha, he’s starting to sound like her. Another reason to keep the team away from the kid.

“I’ve got a job,” the kid continues. “Yep, that's right. Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman will be making sandwiches at Delmar’s. Gotta get that money up.”

Tony is confused. “Don’t I pay you?” Considering Pete actually does do intern work, with Tony, in the lab, sometimes with Pepper– he should be getting paid plenty biweekly.

Peter is silent for a second– then a sharp bark of laughter. “No such thing as too much money, Mr. Stark,” and Tony smiles, because that sounded like Tony. Like his kid.

“Alright kid, you’re not wrong. That’s what you called to say? Really?”

“Well, also, did you see that TikTok I sent you? It’s so funny, do you get it? Like, six-seven, get it Mr Stark?”

Tony doesn’t hang up, even though hearing about Peter’s idea of “humor” is right up there with being tortured in Afghanistan. It’s not nearly as bad as the other option: going back into that conference room, and looking Rogers in the eyes again.

Rogers and the rest are set to move in on Saturday, and Peter won’t even be stopping by before then. Tony tries not to think about how bothered he is by the whole thing throughout the week and busies himself in his lab. It’s not until Thursday evening announces an incoming call that he realizes he hasn’t slept in 36 hours, nor has he seen Pepper. Fuck.

“Aunt Hottie is calling, Boss,” Friday informs. Tony winces at the name. He should really tell Friday to stop using that phrase, god forbid Pepper overhears it. “Let her through,” he says.

“Tony?” May’s voice is tired, but calm. Peter must be fine, Tony tells himself.

“Hey Aunt Hottie,” Tony says conversationally. May groans. In the background, Tony can hear the sound of the cat, Snuffles, purring. “What’s up? Pete doing alright?”

“I hope so. He’s at that job of his, and I’m on my break myself. He told you about the job, right? I told him he didn’t have to, but– well. You know how he is.”

Tony wipes his grease-stained hands on his shirt. “Why did he get a job again? It’s not like I don't pay him to hang out with me. Don’t tell me he’s sick of me already.”

May is quiet, and then– “I don’t want to imply anything by saying this. It's just– Peter is as much of your kid as he is mine, and I can set aside my pride for his best interest. Money has been tight since Ben died, and, well, I’ve been working more shifts at the hospital. Peter had to pick up a job.”

Tony feels the guilt settling in his stomach, heavy and dark and self-loathing. “I… May, I had no idea things were so rough for you guys. I can take care of it. We can act like this conversation never even happened if it makes you feel better. Just think of it as an early Christmas present.”

“We’re Jewish,” May starts.

“Fine, Hannukah present.”

“And I wasn’t exactly telling you this to ask for your pity, or a handout from you. It's just… He’s gone out patrolling after work this week, and I can tell it’s too much for him. His teacher called because he fell asleep in his first period, three times this week. I know you care about the kid, so–”

Tony cuts her off. “Handouts? Pity? Never heard of them. Let me take care of it.”

“Tony–”

“Early Christmaskkuh present, May. Where’s your holiday spirit?”

“It’s March, Tony.”

Tony does as he promises May. He takes care of it.

The guilt stays though, heavy in his stomach.

By the weekend, Rogers and the rest have moved in, and Tony’s fine. Really.

III.

Tony is careful about the kid’s visits. With the Rogues practically invading the Tower, it’s been harder to find time for him, but Tony remains firm despite the kids' protests.

Peter will not get to meet the Avengers. And especially not Steve Rogers, who Peter has disturbingly dubbed as his “man crush.”

Tony just… isn't ready. He isn’t ready for the team– still technically fugitives, by the way– to meet Peter, to connect him to Spiderman, and blame Tony.  He fucked up. May and Pepper remind him nearly everyday. More than that, though, he’s scared. Overprotective. He wants to wrap his arms around the kid and protect him from the corruption that is the Avengers. Tony feels weird admitting that. He feels weirder stepping outside his and Pepper’s room to find Wanda draped across an armchair, Steve making eggs, and Clint balancing a bowl on his forehead.

Like old times, he thinks.

He doesn’t know how that makes him feel.

Tony gets a text from the kid on a Tuesday in April.

Since it’s lab day

Can u and happy pick me up today?

Today sucked like big time

Also look at this TikTok

He sends Happy to Midtown Tech within the hour, and watches the TikTok on the way.

Peter waves goodbye to his friend Ed–Ted?-- and dramatically throws himself into the car. Tony looks at him, amused, over his sunglasses.

“What's the haps, Underoos?”

Peter looks horrified. “Um, Mr. Stark? Please don’t ever say that again. Like actually. I’m pretty sure nobody has said that since you were a youth,” he sniggers, “and that was like prehistoric times I’m pretty sure. So again, please don’t say ‘what’s the haps,’ if you’re trying to seem cool.”

“Excuse me, might I remind you again, that I am the one and only Iron Man? I don’t try to be cool, I just am,” he huffs. In the rearview mirror, he can see Happy roll his eyes.

“Okay sure, Mr. Stark.” Peter says, and the kid looks so morose and pathetic Tony reaches his arm out. It lands somewhat awkwardly on the kid's arm. “You alright, kid?”

Peter hesitates. “I mean, it’s a little dumb,” he says, but Tony is nodding his head. “What’s up?”

“It’s just. Mr. Stark. It’s getting to the end of the school year, right?” And Tony nods again, steeling himself for another one of Peter Parker's tirades. “Well, we need letters of rec from our teachers for our college applications, and my advisor was all, ‘Make sure you choose a teacher who truly knows you so it's a good letter!’” So I asked Mr. Maguire, who's my calculus teacher and also taught me Geometry in my freshman year.

Like a fool, I thought Mr. Maguire would be perfect. Wrong. So, so wrong Mr. Stark. Technically, we aren’t supposed to read letters of rec, but Ned hacked into Mr. Harrigan’s computer, so I had him do it for me. Mr. Stark… I can’t even describe how awful this is. This is like the worst recommendation letter I’ve ever read. Even if I wrote one for Flash Thompson, it would be kinder. Please, just look at this travesty.”

He tosses a folded up piece of paper to Tony, who skims over it in horror.

“To whom it may concern,” he dictates. “I am writing this letter to convey my hesitance in recommending Peter Parker for your university. He is an intelligent, charismatic young man, but has several faults which I believe render him a potential threat to the sanctity of your institution.”

Tony looks up from the letter to Peter, who is staring miserably out the window. “He basically said I’m a hazard because I’m Spiderman. Like sometimes I’m late to class, or I leave class early, or I come to class with my eyebrows singed off and my arm in a sling. Just read it, it's all in there,” Peter scowls.

Choosing to ignore the part about the singed eyebrows and sling, Tony tries not to show how baffled he is. “I mean, I might be a mechanic, but I’m pretty sure I can write better letters of recommendation than this. Why didn’t you just ask me?”

The kid suddenly looks uncomfortable. “Well, I mean. Isn’t that like cheating?”

“Cheating? Do tell.”

“Like, I’m basically just getting a letter from you because I’m Spiderman. And that’s not fair to the people who are like, your actual interns.”

Tony frowns. “But you are my actual intern. And with that comes all the nice perks of being a Stark employee, like paid time off and free healthcare. So why shouldn’t that include a letter of recommendation?”

Peter shrugs.

“Peter, one letter from me, kid, and colleges will be banging down your door, begging you to choose them, not the other way around. Though I hope you know I’ll only write one if you’re considering MIT. And by considering I mean you’ve already decided that’s where you’ll be.”

Tony pulls his sunglasses off his face, because it's dark in the car, dammit, as Peter says, “I didn’t think you would want to sign it.”

Dumbfounded, Tony meets Happy’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Um, hello! We’ve just driven 40 minutes to pick you up from school. Can’t say many of my other interns get that privilege. Scratch that. None of them do. Writing a letter of rec is the least I can do, for Peter Parker. Not Spiderman.” He coughs, surprised at the conviction in his voice.

Peter nods, chewing his lip. “If you say so Mr. Stark.”

“I mean it kid. I mean jeez, next time just lay it on me. Can you imagine if Fred didn’t hack into the computers and this was sent off to MIT? I would've had to buy them a new library to get you in, kid. It’s easier this way.”

The kid looks slightly horrified at the idea. “His name is Ned,” he reminds Tony faintly.

“Right, that’s what I said. Jed.” Peter smiles, and with the smile he seems to remember his habit for driving Tony crazy.

“So after the lab today can I go upstairs and meet the Avengers?”

“You have met the Avengers, kid. You literally fought them. I’m pretty sure Nat has watched you sleep.”

“Woah, the Black Widow did what? That's kinda creepy Mr. Stark, why'd you let her spy on me? Hahaha, not like you could stop her. You know what they say: once a spy, always a spy.”

Happy nods sagely from the driver's seat. Tony rolls his eyes.

IV.

Tony has 5 seconds to dart out of the way from a laser blast. He barely misses it, clutching his heart. Too close.

Over the comms, he hears the kid. “Holy shi- holy cow, Mr. Stark. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, kid. You be careful, I didn’t laser-proof the suit yet,” he mutters, mentally filing a note to do so once he’s back in the lab.

But Peter is too excited at the prospect of fighting with the Avengers, swinging around Cap to pepper him with questions, and yelling out clever quips. Tony has just re-entered the fight against the particularly murderous, laser-shooting animatronics, when he sees him. Peter, pushing Sam out of the way of a laser ray. Peter, getting hit instead. Peter, falling, falling, falling ten feet. Peter, on the ground, burned raw.

Tony’s mind goes blank. He flies down to the kid, one hand clutching at his heart again, the other turning Peter around gently to examine the injuries. “Fuck. Kid.” He says, too choked up to say anything else.

Peter opens his eyes. “‘M fine Misser Stark.. This isn’t as bad as being crushed under a building. Ha.”

Sam has landed in front of them, a look of concern on his face. “Shit, Tony, I had no idea he would do that. How bad is it?” Tony ignores him. “Friday, how bad are his injuries?”

“Spiderman has multiple second and third degree burns across his abdomen. He has broken four ribs and his tailbone,” Friday informs him. 

Shit, Tony thinks. Shit, shit, shit. “Kid, you were just supposed to but keep the civilians out of danger. Sam could have handled himself, do you understand?” Peter, glassy-eyed, laughs soundlessly.

He pulls Peter into his arms. Raises to look Sam in the eye. “Just get those sons of bitches,” he says, before he can snap and say what he’s really thinking. Sam nods, and takes off.

Tony is relieved that Bruce is back on Earth. He’d arrived at the Tower just weeks after everyone else, and made himself at home. It’s good that he’s back. It's nice to have a similar mind as him, someone who can get lost in a lab session and emerge 3 days later, someone who he trusts Peter with.

As Tony arrives at the Tower, Peter in tow, he quickly instructs Friday to notify Bruce of Peter’s condition. Since returning, Bruce had become Peter’s de facto doctor, overseeing his patrol injuries.

Bruce comes running down the hall of the med floor with a nurse pushing a bed behind him. Tony deposits Peter, who is clearly in shock, on the bed. “Can I pet Snuffles?” The kid asks no one in particular.

Tony grabs Bruce’s arm. “I– Will he be okay?” Bruce is already pushing Peter into one of the surgery rooms. “He’s self-healing, Tony. I’m just here to speed it up. He’ll be fine.”

By the time Bruce has finished stabilizing the kid, everyone has returned to the Tower, sweaty and loose and laughing. Tony, who is perched on a stool at the island, nursing a whiskey, hears them before Friday notifies him of their presence.

They enter the kitchen. Tony tenses. It’s been two months of everyone being back, but he still isn’t used to them being around. Nat and Bruce are fine. But everyone else? They’re… not to be trusted with the kid yet. If ever.

“How is Spiderman?” Rogers asks. Sam and Natasha stand behind him, staring at Tony. Wanda flops down on a stool next to Tony.

“Alive,” he informs them tersely. “He won’t be joining us again anytime soon, that's for sure.”

Steve frowns, his brow furrowing. “I didn’t expect him to be in the field today.”

“I called him in for backup. He looks out for the ‘little guy,’ his words, not mine. He’s just supposed to keep the civilians safe.” He looks at Sam at that, who has the decency to look ashamed.

“I think it’s time we met the man,” Steve starts, but Tony is standing and heading out before he can finish.

“Nope, nuh-uh. You know the rules. You stay here, and you leave Spiderman alone,” Tony snaps.

“Ross is asking–” Tony cuts him off, stepping into the elevator. “Don’t care. Stay out of it, Rogers.”

The last thing Tony sees before the doors close is Natasha, leaning over to whisper almost imperceptibly in Steve’s ear.

Peter is awake and alert when Tony steps into his room on the medical floor. He grins sheepishly.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” he says breezily, “have you ever tried to suture a bullet hole with floss?”

“What?”

“Kidding, kidding!”

Bruce appears, with a frown on his face. “Tony, Peter has something to tell you.”

“Dr. Banner!”

“Peter, tell him.”

Peter looks down at his hands. “Well, uh, I might’ve been shot.”

Tony feels dizzy. “What? I thought you just got hit by the lasers?”

“...Last week.”

“What the fuck?”

“It healed up, so I thought it was fine even though I couldn’t get the bullet out! And I couldn’t find any thread, so I used May’s floss. I was being responsible.” Tony drops his head in his hands. “Honest to god, you’re killing me, kid. I'm not gonna make it to 50. Being responsible would be calling Happy, or me, or telling May, who is a registered nurse, not sewing yourself up with floss!”

Bruce steps in. “I had to remove the bullet, which was a bit messy since he’d healed around it. But I reset his tailbone, and he’s hooked up on fluids. He’s already halfway healed. He’ll be good by tomorrow morning.”

Tony lets out a breath he didn’t know he'd been holding. He can’t lose the kid. He can’t let this happen again. “Jesus, kid.” Peter has the decency to look abashed.

“You know, I let your friend Ed disable the Training Wheels protocol, but this has gone too far. I’m gonna make Karen report all your injuries to me starting today.”

“Mr. Stark!”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t wanna hear your whining, kid. If you won’t volunteer the information yourself, I’ll just get Karen to do it. Paper cut or bullet wound, I expect reports. Daily.”

Peter pouts, like an honest to god toddler. Tony can’t help himself, he grins.

V.

Pepper is beautiful, even when she’s angry. Tony can hardly focus on her chastisement of him, too busy admiring the way her red hair gleams in the sun streaming through the glass wall in their bedroom.

“This is the second time you’ve bailed on meeting Ross, Tony. I know you want to protect Peter, but we have got to come up with something–”

Tony cuts her off. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about Ross, Pep. I’ll take care of him.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. By the way, have I ever told you how exceptionally gorgeous you are? Wow.” Pepper rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, and Tony’s breath is taken away.

He’s distracted by Peter’s notification ringing out from his phone.

Hey Mr. Stark!!!

Stopping by in 10 minutes

Just wanted to let you know

“Speak of the devil,” Tony says, turning the phone so Pepper can read the texts. “We have a visitor.” Pepper smiles again, and Tony can’t help himself, he’s absolutely enamored with her, and he pulls her into his arms for a kiss.

Tony loses track of time, ignoring Friday’s notification of Peter’s arrival. By the time he enters the living room, hair slightly mussed, the sun has set. He opens his mouth to greet the kid–

Peter is sitting on the couch, Sam is next to him. They’re talking. Tony can hear Peter mention the laser-fight, and Tony stills. Peter Parker should not be speaking of the Avengers fights. But Sam is nodding along, and he gives Peter a reassuring pat on his shoulder.

Tony clears his throat. “Pete.”

The two men– he’s just a kid– turn around. Sam looks at Tony impassively. “Hi, Tony. I’ve just met your intern, Spiderman.” Peter, next to him, looks elated. “And I just met the Falcon, Mr. Stark!”

“I see that,” he grits through his teeth. “Peter, come with me.”

Peter stands up, frowning. “We were just talking. It’s not like I told him about Spiderman. He just knew.”

Sam shrugs. “Nat told us. It wasn’t too hard to piece together. We just didn’t expect him to be a kid, let alone one you keep around the Tower.”

“I don’t have to explain any of that to you,” Tony says. “See this? This is my Tower, and if I decide I want to keep some things private, then you and the rest of you are gonna respect that. I better not find out that Ross knows about him next.”

Sam shakes his head, but Tony is dragging Peter down the hallway.

“Mr. Stark, this is ridiculous, I mean, Mr. Wilson is a good guy! Why can’t I meet him or the rest of the Avengers?”

Tony stills. How does he explain to his kid, who isn’t really his, that he’s terrified of the implications of that? That he wakes up in the middle of the night gasping, terrified that Peter will learn betrayal, like Tony learned from Obie, from Steve? That it's safer to keep his two worlds separate: Peter and Tony, Spiderman and the Avengers.

But looking at Peter’s earnest expression, Tony knows that he can’t keep them separate. He knows the kid. He can’t be told what to do, only guided into the right direction. The anger drains out of him all at once, leaving only the familiar, sick feeling of dread.

“I… Kid, you know what Steve did, right?” Peter nods, his jaw clenched. “They all went along with him, including Sam. I know that… we fought over the Accords, but more than that, it was a fight about trust. And I trust them to protect me, but I just. I don't know who to trust right now. With you.”

He looks at the kid, who is leaning against the wall. His eyes, brown like Tony’s, are understanding.

“I just wanted to make sure Mr. Wilson was okay. I’ve been…” He trails off, looking away.

“What is it, kid?”

“I’ve been feeling pretty bad about everything that happened.”

“You mean, where a grown man let you take the fall and you ended up with life threatening injuries?”

“No. I feel bad because… I saved Mr. Wilson. Anytime I save someone by taking their place… I think about my Uncle Ben. How I should’ve taken his place. I would’ve survived the bullet that hit him, but he had no chance. I told Sam, and he was being helping me out with it. He gave me some advice. It's no big deal, I don’t think him or the others will rat me out.”

Tony feels a little crushed. “Pete, you shouldn’t think like that.”

The kid rolls his eyes. “I know, Sam already told me. 'It’s not your responsibility,' yadda yadda. It did make me feel better, though.”

“Kid… you know you can come to me about these kinds of things, right? I have plenty of experience with self-blame and loathing.” Peter smiles.

Tony steps up to him, places his hands firmly on the kids shoulders. “I’m here, you know that right?”

“I know, Mr. Stark.” “So come to me, okay? I can help too. I want to help.”

Peter looks a little sad, but he nods.

“Okay Mr. Stark. However, Sam did tell me he was a therapist, so are you saying that you’d be better at this than him?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “So I’m ‘Mr. Stark,’” he says, pulling Peter in for a hug. “But Sam gets to be just Sam?”

Peter is hugging him back as he replies. “Well Sam is too young to be called a Mr,” he says cheekily. “You, on the other hand…”

Tony pushes him away jokingly. “Ouch kid. Too far.”

+ 1. 

Peter is fine. Really, he is.

As he sits in Flash Thompson's basement– a place he’d never expected to willingly find himself before this summer– he wills himself to relax. The joint that's being rolled by MJ isn’t strong enough to actually soothe his nerves; he knows that. With his metabolism, whatever he feels after smoking is probably just placebo. Still, he smokes anyway.

As he raises the lit blunt to his lips, he can’t help stop the flood of emotions bubbling to the surface that he’s been pushing down. He takes a drag. Exhales. Takes another. Pushes the feelings back down.

He sits with MJ and Ned– who never smokes but tags along anyway– and Betty, and Abe, in the same basement where they used to study for AcaDec during the school year. Now, they put on movies instead, until someone pulls out a joint and a lighter. Usually MJ, sometimes Flash. It always ends the same, though, with everyone slightly buzzed, except for Ned and Peter.

Tonight, though, Ned has left early, claiming his Lola needed him. So Peter’s in his usual spot in the corner, next to the door that leads to the sauna– because of course Flash has a sauna in his home– trying very hard not to think.

MJ turns to him, grinning. She’s always smiley when she’s high. Peter is convinced she wouldn’t smoke if she realized just how bubbly she was when she did.

“Hey loser,” she says lightly. “Flash wants to play truth or dare. Maybe you should head out before he asks you about Spidey.” She’s sprawled out on the floor, holding hands with Betty.

“Why would Flash ask Peter about Spiderman?” Betty questions. “I thought Ned knew Spiderman.”

MJ giggles. Someone passes the blunt to Peter again. He takes a long drag. Then another. He’ll stick around.

May works a lot. She tries to pretend like it's not stressing her out, but Peter can tell it is. So when she comes home from the hospital–hair tied up in a limp bun, scrubs still on– and collapses onto the couch, he leaves out a few details. Just enough so she won’t worry too much.

He knows she talked to Mr. Stark. Knows she told him about the money struggles. He knew something was up the moment she told him to quit Delmar’s. But still, she has enough on her plate.

Peter can handle himself.

He gets hurt a lot, sure, but he also heals fast. There’s no need to let her know every time something happens on patrol. So when he gets shot, he hunkers down in the bathroom and tries to dig the bullet out of himself. He can’t reach it though, and the pain is blinding, but still, he sews it up with floss–mint flavored, ouch– and moves on.

Then there's Mr. Stark, who just doesn’t understand. Peter knows he cares, in his weird, Tony way. He knows the older man tries to look out for him, protect him. But Mr. Stark doesn’t understand what it’s like to feel hunger pangs because you’re trying not to eat too much at home with May. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to watch someone bleed out in your arms, and then see it every time you close your eyes.

Uncle Ben died in Peter’s arms.

Aunt May is all he has left.

So, if Peter can handle something himself, he will.

Once the rest of the Avengers move back into the Tower, Peter isn’t allowed to stay overnight anymore. Tony says it’s about protecting Peter’s identity. That explanation sparks a flare of annoyance in him at that. He’s not a kid, and it’s not like the Black Widow doesn’t know already– but May agrees. He still visits, but it’s not the same, not being allowed back on the 91st floor.

With school out, and May at work, all Peter has to keep himself company is Spiderman, Snuffles, Flash's basement, and the occasional lab session with Tony.

It’s not that bad. It’s not like Peter’s lonely, he’s just–

“Emotionally distressed, Peter?” Karen asks helpfully.

Peter’s sitting on the roof of a bank, watching the afternoon bleed into evening, in a rare moment of calm.

“Thanks, K,” he mutters. “Really appreciate that.”

Karen’s voice is gentle as she responds. “You appear to be experiencing elevated stress, Peter. Would you like me to notify Mr. Stark, as per the new Babysitter Protocol?”

Peter bristles. “What- no. Are you kidding me? He actually named it that?”

“Yes. I am required to report all signs of injury and distress to Tony.”

Peter is well aware. He had sulked the entire time Tony added the update to Karen, right after laser-proofing and knife-proofing his suit.

“Yeah, physical distress,” Peter argues. “Not emotional, or mental, or whatever. I’m fine, Karen.”

“Your heart rate is elevated, Peter.”

“Thats not a reportable offense. I’m pretty sure Mr. Stark would laugh if you told him that.” He sighs. “Lets just agree to report only the life-threatening injuries, okay?”

“Understood. There’s an attempted carjacking on 43rd Street. Want me to find the fastest route there?”

“Yes please, K.”

Peter loves Karen.

It’s probably unhealthy to consider a disembodied AI a friend, but hey, Peter does a lot of unhealthy things.

Peter doesn’t realize he’s awake until he kicks something warm and soft and hears a yelp. Snuffles. Shit.

He tries to sit up, but can’t. His body is frozen, his chest tight, the remnants of a nightmare still at the forefront of his mind.

Peter, saving Sam Wilson, and being nearly burning alive in the process.

Peter, pulling a young girl from the path of a drunk driver.

Peter, standing frozen on a street corner, as Ben steps in front of him.

The gunshot.

Peter gasps, dragging in a shuddering breath. At least he can breathe after this one. When he dreams of the Vulture dropping a parking garage on top of him, he can’t.

And then, before he knows it, the tears he’s been fighting for so long, well up and spill over. He’s crying, and he’s not even sure why. But once he’s started, he can’t stop. He wants it to stop, he wants Ben to walk through the door and hug him like he always did when Peter cried, but Ben is dead. Ben is dead, and Peter ruined Liz’s life, and May is stressed, and Peter is alone–

Mr. Stark’s voice rings in his ears. Come to me, kid. I can help too. Peter looks at the time on his phone. 3:34 am. Mr Stark won’t mind too much if he calls him late at night. Right?

The phone rings once before Mr. Stark picks up. His voice is tired, but Peter can tell he didn’t wake him. “Underoos? What’s up kid?”

Peter feels childish as he wipes his face and speaks. “Hey, Mr. Stark. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither, kid.” A chuckle. Peter is silent. He suddenly regrets calling Mr. Stark. He’s probably busy in the lab, working on something important, the last thing he needs to hear is about Peter’s bad dreams.

“Well, uh, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just–.”

“Hey, wait.” A pause. “Anything on your mind?”

Peter presses his face into his pillow. “Bad dream.”

“I get those too,” Mr. Stark says gently, “want to tell me about them?”

“Not really.”

“That’s fine. Want to hear what I and the rest of my merry men have been up to in the Tower today?” Relief floods Peter’s body. “I… Yes, actually. Did Captain America do anything cool?”

“Kid, I hope you know that is my mortal enemy you’re asking about. Also, he’s geriatric. He’s physically incapable of being cool.”

“That’s not fair, Mr. Stark.”

“No, you know what’s not fair? I just bought ice cream yesterday, and guess what I wake up to today? Clint and Wanda eating straight from the tub like heathens. They have no regard for roommate etiquette!”

Peter laughs before he can stop himself.

Tony keeps talking, about the team, about Pepper, about nothing and everything, and Peter feels the tension in his body gradually reside.

“Hey kid,” Tony says eventually. “I’ve been thinking. Since you’ve already met Nat and Sam and Bruce, maybe it’s time you met the the rest of them.”

“Really?”

“Of course, I gotta talk to Aunt Hottie, get her input on it, but... The Tower’s been feeling empty lately.”

“There’s eight other people living with you.”

“Hm,” Tony sniffs. “That’s seven too many. My point is, you’re missed around here, kid.”

Peter swallows. “I’ve missed the Tower too. Especially Pepper, Nat and Sam.”

“And…”

“What?”

“Um, hello. Tony Stark here?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve missed you too, I guess.”

“You guess?” They laugh.

“Hey,” Tony says, softer now. “Thanks for calling me. My phone’s on anytime. Call me, okay Underoos? Or Happy, if I don’t pick up.”

Peter nods, even though Tony can’t see him.

Mr. Stark might not understand all of what Peter’s been through, but still. He cares. And he’s seen his fair share of shit.

“Okay, Mr. Stark.”

“Please,” Tony groans. “I beg you. It’s Tony.”

Peter laughs into his pillow.