Chapter Text
Tony didn't intend to pry into the boy's life.
Seriously. He just wanted to make sure that the new Spider-Man suit wouldn't blow Peter's face off the next time he did some stupid upside-down stunt in Queens.
Then he ran a full health scan on the suit—standard stuff. The suit collected blood, a cut on the hand, nothing serious. FRIDAY processed the DNA to check for compatibility with the medical nanites, and…
Tony froze in front of the hologram.
FRIDAY: “ Complete genetic analysis. 99.9997% parental match with archived sample: Strange, Stephen Vincent. Sample date: 2011.”
Tony blinked.
He blinked again.
He opened his mouth. He closed it. He opened it again.
Tony: “…FRIDAY, are you drunk? What kind of cosmic joke is that?”
FRIDAY: “I don’t drink alcohol, boss. The 2011 sample was collected during the alien incident in Stamford. Dr. Strange donated blood to the injured.”
Tony vaguely remembered. Stephen Strange was just another arrogant neurosurgeon who appeared on TV donating blood after a minor Chitauri attack.
And apparently… with someone.
And that someone... had Peter.
Tony ran his hands over his face.
Tony: “No. No, no, no, no, no. This is… this is the universe trolling me. Peter is 17 years old. Strange was what, like 35 in 2011? He wasn't even a magician yet, he was just a jerk with golden hands and an ego the size of Manhattan.”
FRIDAY: “Calculations confirm: Peter Parker was born in August 2001. Conception estimated between November and December 2000. Dr. Strange was 34 years old.”
Tony started pacing back and forth in the lab.
Tony: "Peter's parents died in a plane crash when he was a baby. Richard and Mary Parker. I… I never really asked why the boy was sad. But… Strange? STRANGE?"
He stopped in front of the hologram with the floating gene tree.
There it was: two lines meeting at the "Peter Parker" node.
One line: “Mary Fitzpatrick-Parker” (deceased mother).
Another line, flashing red: “Stephen Vincent Strange” (biological father — 50% DNA match).
Tony let out a hysterical laugh.
Tony: “I’m going to kill him. Or hug him. I don’t know. Both. At the same time.”
He picked up his cell phone. He typed. He deleted. He typed again.
[Tony → Stephen]
We need to talk. NOW.
sanctum. Bring whiskey. Lots of whiskey.
The answer came in less than ten seconds.
[Stephen → Tony]
I don't drink anymore. And Wong confiscated the whiskey.
What do you want, Stark?
[Tony → Stephen]
Bring the damn whiskey or I'll tell Peter that you're Santa Claus in a robe.
Three dots appearing. Disappearing. Appearing.
[Stephen → Stephen]
…You have 15 minutes before I change my mind.
Tony threw his cell phone on the sofa, ran a hand through his hair, and stared at the ceiling.
Tony: "This is going to be the biggest disaster of my life... or the best plot twist the multiverse has ever created."
He grabbed the armor and flew to the Sanctum.
Because Tony Stark was about to tell Stephen Strange — the most insufferable, sarcastic, and absurdly attractive man he had ever met — that he had a teenage son.
And that this son was Spider-Man.
And that Tony had been in love with the boy for years, as if he were his own son.
And that, somehow, made him and Stephen… co-parents?
Tony groaned loudly in the middle of the New York sky.
Tony: "You son of a bitch of a universe."