Archive of Our Own ^beta

The color white is frequently associated with innocence and purity. Thus, people with pure white wings were associated with angels from the Heavens.

People saw white wings and let their guard down, even if they had only just met the person. Without ever hearing the sound of their voice or hearing their name, those with pure white wings were trusted and adored.

Tony saw white wings and remembered violence and betrayal. He remembered Sunset’s smirk as she revealed “new” designs that were stolen from him, he remembered Ty’s stupid smirk as Tony read the lies that he’d fed to the media, and he remembered Obie’s hand reaching into his chest.

Tony knew the whole thing was stupid— people worshipping white wings, and him feeling nauseous at the sight of them.

Tony knew it was ridiculous to make judgments of someone’s character based on their wing color, something that they had no control over. Tony honestly didn’t understand why anyone even had wings; they couldn’t fly— maybe at one point in time they were able to, but not anymore.

“While I highly discourage you from judging anyone, Anthony,” Jarvis started, eyeing him with a pointed look, “people should be judged by their choices in this life, and nothing else.”

“Didn’t you tell me last week that our actions don’t define us?” Tony pointed out.

“And that is still true,” Jarvis affirmed, “everyone makes mistakes, Anthony. It is what we do after those mistakes that show our character, that define us.”

Tony mostly followed along— if you kept making the same mistake over and over, then you were an idiot and a waste of space. If you were able to learn, then maybe there was hope for you.

Tony’s eyes drifted to the perfectly preened black wings. “Did your wisdom come from age or because you’re a raven?”

“Young sir, might I remind you of what I just said?”

“Oh.” Tony furrowed his brows. “That was about people’s wings?”

“It could be applied there,” Jarvis said noncommittally.

“Well, where else could it be applied to?” Tony asked because he always pushed. He never knew when to stop; he was always too curious.

Jarvis’ smile was kind because it always was. “I believe that is something you must find out yourself, young sir.”

Obviously, Tony now knew that Jarvis was referring to judging people based on their sex, gender, race/ethnicity, sexual identity, wings, etc. All that stuff.

Tony supposed he counted himself as lucky. His wings were those of a Sparrow. There was nothing remarkable or eye-catching about his wings, which was another point of evidence for his thesis of the type of people’s wings say nothing about a person’s character. If Tony had wings that matched his personality, then he’d be a Scarlet Macaw or maybe a Peacock or something else flashy. Not a tiny garden bird with wings that barely reached hands— not that Tony cared. Big wings were inconvenient and useless.

Steve’s wings were, fittingly, those of an Eagle. His wings were massive, his wingspan stretched approximately 15 feet— Tony didn’t doubt that in a pinch, Steve would be able to glide. The strong, large wings suited him now, but looked ridiculous on Steve growing up. Steve gave him permission to laugh, or at least didn’t stop him when he started.

Natasha’s wings were grey with a bit of a blue undertone. Tony thinks her wings resemble a Dove’s, but Natasha never confirmed or denied anything Tony said.

Bruce’s wings resembled a Cockatiel's. He shared Tony’s opinion that wings were more in the way than helpful, but otherwise didn’t have any more commentary. The Hulk didn’t have wings.

Sam’s wings resembled a Falcon’s.

Clint’s wings were also a Falcon’s, but he always tried to claim they were a Hawks. No one believed him.

Barnes never showed his wings, but Steve said they were those of a Cardinal. Tony never questioned why Barnes never showed his wings; he didn’t care to. It wasn’t his business whether Barnes had some kind of trauma story for why he didn’t show his wings, or if he was just one of those people.

While it was accepted in society to wear wings out all day, every day, no matter the occasion, some people still preferred to keep their wings hidden and private.

There were a lot of reasons for people to decide to keep their wings hidden, but the most common one was tradition.

Some people still held very traditional views regarding wings— traditionalists. They believed wings, especially the underside of their wings, should only be done to those you trust completely. Only those closest to you would be allowed to catch a glimpse.

Peter was a traditionalist.

Peter had also never shown Tony his wings.

.

Tony threw a water bottle at Peter. “You know, kid,” Tony eyed Peter’s wingless back, “you’re always more than welcome to spread your own wings in this lab. Literally and figuratively.” For emphasis, Tony spread his own wings.

Peter shot him a trademarked unimpressed teenager look, but Tony didn’t miss the way his shoulder’s twitched at seeing his spread wings. “That was horrible, Mr. Stark. Absolutely horrible. Zero out of ten.”

Tony held up a finger, his wings folding against his back. “It was clever, and you know it was.”

Peter rolled his eyes and chugged the cold water.

Tony cracked his knuckles and cleared his throat. “But seriously, kid, you don’t have to hide them here. It can’t be comfortable.”

Peter met his gaze for a second before looking away, rolling his left shoulder. “It’s alright. I can see how it’d feel uncomfortable for someone like you, who always keeps them out, but eventually you get used to it.”

Tony’s brows pulled together.

Peter shrank into his seat when he glanced at Tony’s face. “Don’t look at me like that! It’s fine, really.”

“Do you let them out at all?” Tony asked, thoughtlessly flapping his wings at the idea of keeping them hidden all day.

“Of course!” Peter nodded frantically. “Just…not all the time.”

Tony tilted his head. “Why not? Are you insecure about them? Did a girl say something mean once, and so you took a vow to never show them again? Because, Peter, you can break that vow-”

With a quizzical look, Peter slowly shook his head. “How do you come up with this stuff?” And then, indignantly, Peter squawked: "And how was that your first assumption?!”

Tony shrugged. “It sounds plausible.”

“It sounds ridiculous and offensive to me.”

“Teenagers are ridiculous,” Tony countered, “and you not telling me why you won’t show me your wings is offensive.”

There was a moment where Peter’s face was devoid of anything, until he was grinning at Tony with a glint in his eyes. “Oh, so that’s what this is about?”

Tony kicked Peter’s chair, his wings bristling behind him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m being a good mentor, that’s all. Looking out for my mentee’s well-being.”

Peter ignored him, his grin impossibly wider. “You just want to know what my wings look like!”

Tony looked away from him. “I’m not even dignifying that with a response.”

Peter laughed at him and jumped to stand on the counter, clasping his hands and exaggeratedly swooning. “I’m so flattered right now! The one and only Tony Stark wants to know what my wings are!”

“Shouldn’t you be more flattered that I took you in as my mentee?” Tony said flatly. “Also, get down before you slip and hurt me.”

Peter rolled his eyes and dropped the act. “Get a load of this guy, he’s not even worried about me.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him, his wings twitching behind him as he folded his arms over his chest. Speaking of well-being— “Stop changing the subject.”

“Me? Changing the subject? When have I ever? Seriously, I want specific examples in alphabetical and chronological order.” Peter shot him an exaggeratedly confused face, even placing a hand on his chest.

“Right now.” Tony knew Peter was just yanking his chain with the alphabetical and chronological part.

Peter stared at him for a long moment before his face scrunched into something scruntinizing. “Wow, you’re really serious about this wing thing, aren’t you?”

“A little bit.” Tony made a so-so motion with his hands. “I more so just want to brag that I got to see your wings before anybody else here, especially to that Steve guy.”

“Ah, well,” Peter’s laugh had a nervous edge to it, “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Tony considered him. “Why are you acting weird now?”

“Well, it’s just,” Peter’s hand came up to rub his neck, “I’m a, uh…”

“You’re a what?”

“A traditionalist?” Peter sounded unsure.

Tony blinked at him, only barely hiding his surprise. “A…traditionalist.”

“Yep.” Peter wiped his hands on his jeans. “Just about my wings, though, not any of the other traditionalist stuff people associate with them. It’s more habit than anything, and I’ve always been a private person, so it just makes sense to me-”

“May’s not a traditionalist,” Tony pointed out. He remembered seeing her wings— a Rock Dove or Pigeon.

Peter licked his lips. “No, she’s not.”

“But you are?” Tony asked as he tried to make sense of it.

Peter shrugged. “I learned it from my parents and Uncle Ben. We loved that May freely showed her wings; we never wanted her to stop, and she respected us enough to never ask us to start.”

Reluctantly, with his wings folded tightly against his back, Tony nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Peter asked, sounding unsure.

“Okay.” Tony rocked back and forth. “I, uh, respect you, and if you’re not comfortable with showing your wings— or anything for that matter, then you don’t-”

Peter’s face crumpled, and he rapidly shook his head. “No! No, no, no. It’s got nothing to do with that, Mr. Stark! I am comfortable with you, I just- it’s-” Peter sighed. “I just can’t show you my wings.”

Tony swallowed back the hurt. “Right.”

This was another contributing factor as to why a lot of people didn’t like traditionalists, and why traditionalism with wings was becoming increasingly rare.

If traditionalists only revealed their wings to those they deeply trusted, then to every person they refused to reveal their wings to, it was a blatant declaration that they didn’t trust them.

“You sound like you don’t believe me,” Peter mumbled.

“I do! You’re comfortable, but you don’t trust me-”

Peter looked like Tony had struck him. “I never said that!”

Tony forced a laugh. “Isn’t that implied?”

“No!” Peter’s eyes darted around. “I- Why are you being like this?”

“Oh, I’m being some kind of way?” Tony asked, raising his brows. Without his permission, his wings raised, tense.

It’d come out harsher than he’d intended, judging by the way Peter stepped backwards. “I’m…sorry if I upset you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony crumpled internally. “Kid, it’s fine. I’m not-”

Peter's eyes darted to Tony's wings behind him. “Your wings are telling a different story,” he crowed.

Tony forced his wings to relax. “I'm sorry. It's fine, kid. Really,” he tried to insist.

Peter shook his head, not meeting his gaze. “I think it’d be best if I left now. Take care, Mr. Stark.”

“Wait, Peter!” Tony called out as he tried to catch any part of Peter.

“Perhaps it’d be best to let Peter be, Boss,” FRIDAY chimed in. “Several sources suggest allowing your child to cool off before attempting to reconcile.”

Tony sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. “Way to go, Stark.”

.

Begrudgingly, Tony took FRIDAY’s advice from whatever sources she’d pulled from. He’d waited a few hours before sending a simple message to Peter.

>>To: Kid
I’m sorry kid (23:58)
Whether you ever show me your wings or not, I know you trust me. (00:04)

Tony set his phone down. Then picked it back up. The cycle repeated until his phone vibrated with a notification.

>>From: Kid
I dont want to talk about my wings right now. (00:06)
But thanks (00:07)
<3 <3 <3 (00:07)

Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

>>To: Kid
Why are you still awake? (00:07)
Growing spider-babies need sleep (00:08)

>>From: Kid
I was sleeping :< (00:08)
And then some guy woke me up with his insistent texting >:C (00:09)

>>To: Kid
He sounds horrible. (00:09)
You should ditch him if he keeps interfering with your health (00:10)

>>From: Kid
HA (00:10)
You WISH you could get rid of me that easily (00:10)

>>To: Kid
Busted. (00:10)
Now get some rest kiddo and stop blowing up my phone (00:11)

>>From: Kid
YOU TEXTED ME FIRST (00:11)
EXCUUUSE ME????? (00:11)

>>To: Kid
Good night. Youre cranky because you havent slept (00:12)

>>From: Kid
I’ll hunt you for sport one day. But yeah, good night. Dont snore too loud and dont let the bed bugs get away <3 (00:12)

>>To: Kid
Im not responding to that message. (00:12)

>>From: Kid
Ya just did (00:13)

>>To: Kid
No. i didn’t. I put that message there so that the next time i texted you it would be clear that i wasnt responding to that (00:13)

>>From: Kid
Whatever u say (00:14)

Despite the relief flooding his veins at still being on speaking terms with his kid, Tony couldn't ignore the gnawing pit in his stomach.

Tony wouldn't know until he saw Peter again, whether the kid would brush it off or if some old walls would come back up.

For some reason, Tony hated both of those scenarios. He couldn't stand the thought of Peter brushing it off, of pretending like it was okay when Tony's actions were one hundred percent unacceptable.

Tony also couldn't stand the thought of Peter pulling back, of those walls -that most didn't even know existed- coming back up.

Tony groaned, flopping on his back and digging his palms into his eyes. “This sucks.” Absent-mindedly, Tony brought one of his hands down to bite at his thumbnail.

What if Peter had white wings? Admittedly, they’d suit him— at least society would think so. Of course, a boy as kind and good as Peter Parker should have pure white wings.

But would they really suit him? No.

Personally, Tony thought a pair of black wings would suit him best.

Maybe grey wings? Tony could live with a nice, soft grey; anything but a blinding white.

Maybe Peter could be a Mourning Dove with brown and grey wings. Or maybe a Finch? Or some other friendly bird that didn't have white wings— not that the kind of bird wings you had meant anything, of course.

Tony blew out a breath and rolled onto his side, blankly staring at the wall.

No, that wasn’t right. No matter what Peter’s wings looked like, Tony would adore them because they were Peter’s, and that was the important part.

No matter what, if and when Peter showed Tony his wings, he’d like them.

-

Two weeks pass before Tony sees Peter again.

The two weeks are filled with the occasional photo of random cats and dogs Peter encounters, both in and out of the suit.

Sneaked in between the pictures of the cats and dogs was a link to a bird fact randomizer.

>>From: Kid
!!!!!!! I CLICKED ON THIS LINK AND IT GAVE ME A FACT ABOUT SPARROWS (13:45)
Oops sorry caps lock was on (13:46)
Anyway!!! Apparently the white-crowned sparrow is immune to sleep deprivation! (13:46)
Too bad ur not a white crown sparrow tho… :C (13:47)

Tony ignored the last message and clicked on the link. Half of him expected to be greeted with drums, and Rick Astley instead of the randomizer.

Tony clicked the button and waited.

Crows are smart enough to investigate deaths and identify potential threats, including human threats. Additionally, crows are great at facial recognition and remembering transgressions.

“Oh. That's actually pretty cool,” Tony muttered to himself.

“What is?” Natasha asked as she walked to the fridge.

“Look.” Tony showed her the phone, watching her skim it in just a few seconds.

“Hm.” Natasha turned back to the fridge, her wings relaxed against her back. “What prompted this?”

“Peter sent me a link to a random bird fact generator. Figured I'd be nice and humor him just this once.” Tony ignored the way his wings rippled at the thought of making Peter happy.

Natasha didn’t ignore his wings, and laughed at him. “Just this once, he says. Like you don't twist your own wing for that kid.”

Tony focused on his phone. “Whatever.”

“Not even denying it?” Natasha’s wings fluttered behind her as she smirked at him.

“Denying what?” Steve asked, joining the party in the kitchen. His hairline was still damp from his post-workout shower.

Tony sighed. “You people are so nosy. Do you know that? I hope you know that.”

“Peter sent Tony a link to a bird fact generator, and he got one about crows,” Natasha explained, nose still buried in the fridge. “Oh, and he's acting like he doesn't roll out the red carpet when Peter arrives.”

“I don't!” Tony denied, his wings flaring behind him.

Stave ignored Tony's outburst, seemingly delighted at the first part. His wings were tucked away, as they typically were. “What did it say about crows?”

“The usual,” Natasha said, as if she'd already known it. “They can recognize faces and will investigate deaths in their flock to determine potential threats. Smart birds.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “They also hold grudges, and they hold them for a long time.”

“See a lot of crows growing up?” Natasha asked, plopping two slices of bread into the toaster.

“Every now and then, if you knew when and where to look. Sometimes I would just sit and sketch them for hours, or until Bucky found me.” Steve's expression dimmed. “They're beautiful birds, and they have such beautiful wings, it's a shame we don't see them very often.”

Something in Tony soured as he remembered the way Jarvis would never leave the mansion with his wings showing.

Not around him, at least.

“Why not just show them anyway? Who cares what they say?!” Tony demanded, and despite not being very threatening at all, his wings were still raised up.

Jarvis just smiled at him, weary but genuine. “It's easier.”

Tony scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Since when do you take the easy way out?”

Jarvis didn't get aggravated at him, knowing that Tony wasn't trying to be rude or disrespectful. “It'll be easier for you, my boy.”

Tony furrowed his brows and stared at Jarvis’ raven wings. He liked Jarvis’ wings; he didn't want them to go away. Dejectedly, his wings dropped; he wasn’t winning this one.

Jarvis didn't look overjoyed to tuck his wings away. “The world is unkind to those who flick around those with dark wings. And forgive me, but if hiding my wings spares you even the smallest amount of grief, then I shall do so.”

Natasha sighed, her wings folded tightly against her back. “Society is brutal to people with dark wings.”

“It's so stupid.”

“Agreed,” Steve echoed somberly, his expression unreadable.

Not wanting to linger on the depressing topic, Tony grinned. “What? Steve Rogers agrees with me? I must be dreaming.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and Tony saw his lips twitch up. “We agree every now and then.”

“Every other meeting, Steve has to agree to at least one thing you say to keep your ego healthy,” Natasha said, “it's in the contract.”

Tony rolled his eyes as the two of them laughed at him. “Yeah, yeah.”

>>To: Kid
I don't know what you're talking about. Im never sleep deprived. (08:45)

On that note, Tony couldn't believe it was already eight in the morning, practically nine.

Looks like sleep was out of the question, again.

>>From: Kid
!!! Did u do the generator!? What bird u get?? What did it say too (08:46)

>>To: Kid
Shouldn't you be in class? (08:46)

>>From: Kid
I am C: (08:47)

>>To: Kid
Shouldn't you be paying attention? (08:47)

>>From: Kid
Ur more important <3 (08:48)
Also u already rambled and taught me about this topic way more in depth a few weeks ago (08:48)

>>To: Kid
Sweet but im not vouching for you if you get ur phone taken away. (08:49)

>>From: Kid
:C (08:49)

>>To: Kid
And I got a fact about Crows. Apparently they're good at facial recognition, grudges, and investigations. Pretty cool right? (08:50)

Tony waited for a minute before deciding Peter probably got busted, or close to busted, for being on his phone.

Tucking his phone into his pants, he moved to start a fresh pot of coffee so he could get back to work.

.

Tony tried not to look as frantic as he felt when he approached the front desk. With a practiced skill, his wings stayed relaxed against his back. “Peter Parker,” He answered before the lady could get her words out.

To Suzan’s, according to her nametag, credit she only gawked at Tony for a few seconds before wordlessly pointing to a little room adjacent to the office.

“I already told you that I'm fine!” Peter's pleading voice could be heard.

“Peter,” a man's voice came, “you were found puking into the toilet. Multiple times.”

“No! Just once. The other times were just dry heaves, so they don’t count.”

Tony resisted the urge to sigh at the very flawed logic. Instead, he fully walked into the room and into Peter’s line of sight.

The boy’s face got unbelievably paler, his expression shifting into something horrified before he turned back to the nurse. “You called Mr. Stark?!”

The nurse just nodded. “He was your second listed emergency contact, and since I couldn’t get in contact with your Aunt, I called him.”

Peter huffed and opened his mouth as if he intended to keep arguing with the nurse.

“Hush, Peter,” Tony said as he crossed the room to put what he intended to be a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder. Discretely, his wing came up to brush against Peter’s back. “So, what’s going on with this one?”

“Peter was found puking in the bathroom by his friend. He was pale, sweaty, and trembling. No fever, though.”

“Because I’m not sick,” Peter complained.

“I think it’d be best if he took the rest of the day off to recover,” The nurse finished, not even entertaining Peter’s protests.

Tony nodded. “Alright. You heard the nurse, Pete. Let’s go. Do you have your bag?”

Peter’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah, Ned brought it for me,” he mumbled, visibly pouting.

Tony wordlessly nodded at the nurse before motioning for Peter to follow behind him. In the corner of his eye, as he signed Peter out, he watched as the boy tried to hide how shaky and weak he felt.

Peter was quiet until they got into the car. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way, Mr. Stark.” He didn’t meet his gaze as he spoke.

Tony reached to the passenger side to open the glove compartment, revealing a bag of mints. “Help yourself. Mint helps with anxiety.”

Peter swallowed and pushed the glove compartment closed without taking any. “Oh, uh. Mint makes me sick. It’s a spider thing,” He added quietly, looking out of the window.

Tony just hummed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Now what?

“How’d you, um, know it was anxiety?” Peter stumbled his way through asking when they finally made it out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“Because I know you, and anxiety.” Tony glanced at him. “The real question is what prompted it?”

And why didn’t you tell me? What happened in the minutes between our last text and you getting caught puking in the bathroom?

Peter squirmed in his seat, leaning forward and rolling his shoulders. There was no doubt that he was trying to get relief from the strain of keeping his wings tucked away when he felt so stressed.

Reflexively, Tony wanted to stretch out his own wings, but it was easier to drive with them tucked away.

“...I don’t know,” Peter answered eventually, blatantly lying.

Tony sighed. “If you don’t want to tell me, then just say that. Don’t lie to me.”

Peter visibly flinched. “I really don’t know, Mr. Stark. I mean, I know what triggered it, but I don’t get why it’d cause…that exaggerated of a reaction.”

Tony tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Well, I’m going to hazard a guess and say that you don’t want to talk about it any further. Right?”

Peter cracked his knuckles. “Yeah.”

“Well, how’s this idea: we get home, you shower while I cook something simple and light, and we get some work done in the lab. How’s that sound?”

Peter perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Unless you’re not up for it, then we can do something else.” Tony shrugged.

“No! I’m up for it.” For the first time since picking him, Peter smiled at him. “...Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t mention it,” Tony dismissed, then, in a more serious voice, “seriously, don’t mention it. You’re already starting to ruin my reputation as an uncaring asshole.”

Peter scoffed at him. “I’m pretty sure you ruined that reputation all on your own.”

Tony shook his head. “Nope. It’s definitely your fault.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

Tony watched as Peter tucked a smile into his hand.

-

By dinner, it seemed the exhaustion from Peter’s morning panic attack had caught up with him, and Tony would be lying if he wasn’t feeling the effects of not sleeping in over twenty-four hours.

Peter yawned as he collapsed onto the couch in the penthouse. “Should we order in?”

“I think we’re gonna have to,” Tony said, “because I’m not cooking and we have no leftovers.” He was decidedly ignoring the warm feeling that followed every we.

When Tony joined Peter on the other end of the couch, the boy was sprawled on his stomach. Peter almost never laid on his stomach.

“Your wings still bothering you?” Tony asked, before he could stop himself. Instinctively, his wings folded tightly against his back.

Tony watched as nearly every muscle in Peter’s body tensed.

“Never-” Tony started to backtrack, not wanting to repeat previous mistakes.

Peter let out a breath and relaxed back into the cushions. “Yeah. They’ve been tense since my little episode, and I haven’t had the chance to stretch them.”

Tony clenched his jaw before he could do something stupid like tell Peter he could stretch his wings again. It didn’t work out last time. Why would it work out this time?

“What?” Peter asked. He must’ve seen that there was something on the tip of Tony’s tongue.

“No, it’s nothing.” Tony waved him off. “FRIDAY, place our usual order for…what’re you in the mood for, kid?”

Peter hummed as he thought. “I think…I’m in the mood to hear what you were about to say.”

Tony sucked in air through his teeth. “Yikes, kid…I don’t know any restaurants around here that deliver that.”

“Maybe we should cook at home then.”

“I think you’ll get food poisoning if we attempt that one.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at him.

“Can’t you just drop it?” Tony asked because he was above begging or pleading. “I’m trying to be a good mentor and respect you.”

Peter tilted his head. “Were you…going to invite me to spread my wings?” He didn’t look accusatory.

Tony still felt accused, though, his wings raised defensively. “Hey! I was going to say that if you did want to stretch them, that I wouldn’t look.”

“...And why would I get mad at that? At you harmlessly offering?” Peter asked, kicking his feet up to sway in the air.

Like this was some low-stakes slumber party and Tony wasn’t on the verge of ruining their entire relationship. Maybe to Peter, it was a low-stakes slumber party. And maybe, just maybe, Tony was overreacting.

Peter sat up and stretched his arms over his head. “I might take you up on your offer…later. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tony said, maybe a bit too quickly. “So, did you ever decide what you were craving?”

Peter swiped the TV remote and flopped sideways on the couch. “Get whatever. I don’t care. So long as it’s not some weird gross rich person cuisine.”

Tony just rolled his eyes.

Peter had a lot of muscle on him; Tony thinks most of his body weight comes from muscle, since he could hardly see an ounce of fat on him— something that he’d been quietly working on fixing. But he’d already shoved a bunch of carbs at him earlier for lunch, so that left protein and vegetables.

“How about steak, Pete?” Tony asked.

“Oh, that does sound good,” Peter approved, still surfing through the channels. Why Peter still clicked the Live TV option just to channel surf, Tony would never know. Maybe the kid just liked channel surfing.

“I’m guessing you still want your steak practically mooing,” Tony said, just because he liked to tease him.

Peter huffed. “For the last time, Tony, a rare steak is not raw.”

“It looks raw.”

“Just because it’s not overcooked like your steak-” Peter began his complaint.

“Medium is not overcooked! It’s a perfectly reasonable temperature for a steak!” Tony defended. “And just for that, FRIDAY put in the order for lots of vegetables, and Pete here will eat every one of them.”

Peter stuck out his tongue. “Joke's on you, I like veggies.”

“You don’t act like it,” Tony deadpanned.

“I just happen to like everything else way more than I like veggies.” Peter wiggled down the couch to plop his feet into Tony’s lap. “And that’s not a crime.”

“No, but you trying to steal my warmth is,” Tony grumbled, and made no moves to move Peter’s socked foot. “Also, seriously? Iron Man socks?” His wings fluttered.

Peter wiggled his foot as best he could. “Like ‘em?”

“I guess they’re better than Captain America socks,” Tony answered noncommittally, absent-mindedly plucking at the top of Peter’s sock and tugging it up.

Peter laughed. “I save those for the weekend.”

Somehow, Peter laughed even harder at Tony’s scowl.

.

Later, after Peter made Tony get the food and blankets, when the only light was from the TV screen playing some movie that Tony was hardly paying attention to.

Tony and Peter swapped positions. Peter was sitting on the couch, both feet tucked under him, and a pillow clutched to his chest as he watched the movie— Tony didn’t think any of that looked comfortable. Tony was lying on the couch like a normal person.

Tony was drifting in and out of consciousness; at this moment, he was almost certain Peter had put on a second movie. He should probably move to his bed and send Peter to his, or at least make Peter promise to go to bed after this movie.

What time even was it?

Tony shifted and was about to reach for his phone when he heard the ruffling of feathers. Tony froze.

His wings were folded behind him comfortably, trapped between him and the couch behind him. Perks of smaller wings, Tony supposed.

Slowly, discreetly, Tony tilted his head to see Peter stretching out his wings. Not a full stretch, but a half-hearted uncurling.

The TV gave off almost no light; it looked like the credits were beginning to roll. With how little light there was, it was impossible to make out any discernible features of Peter’s wings.

But, to Tony’s relief, they didn’t look white. And even in the dark, Tony could see that Peter’s wings weren’t small, even as they rested

Peter’s head tilted slightly, not even an inch, and Tony knew that Peter was looking right at him…looking right at Tony staring at his wings.

You know, doing the thing that Tony had promised he wouldn’t do.

“Thanks for coming to pick me up today, Tony,” Peter whispered, just loud enough for Tony to hear him, “and, y’know, for everything that you do.”

Tony blinked and shook himself out of the daze that was, technically, seeing Peter’s wings for the first time. “Uh, yeah. Of course, kid.”

Peter’s wings flapped lightly as he readjusted himself on the couch. “I know it’s a bit late to ask this, but it’s alright if I stay the night, right?”

“Duh, kid.” Tony pushed himself into a sitting position and ignored the way his wings were rippling and twitching with the urge to stretch out and cover Peter’s wings. Not that they were big enough to, but the urge was still present.

Peter stretched his arms above his head as he yawned. “Goodnight, Mr. Stark!” Peter didn’t tuck his wings away as he walked past Tony; instead, he stretched one of the wings out to smack Tony in the face.

Tony spluttered at the painless wack. “Hey!”

“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter crowed, “I so rarely have these things out that I’m just so clumsy with them!” Peter giggled, and his wings fluttered delightedly behind him.

Once Peter was safely in his room, the lights came on, revealing the small mess they’d left behind.

Tony groaned. “Of course, he left me with clean up.”

Tony threw out the takeout boxes and tossed any dishes into the sink to be dealt with tomorrow morning. He didn’t care to do much with the pillows or blankets on the couch, just a toss into the almost right position.

Tony paused, however, when he spotted a single black feather. In the privacy of his own living area, Tony put a hand on his chest and breathed a sigh of relief.

No matter what, Tony would love like Peter’s wings and trust him all the same, but he couldn’t deny the relief at having double confirmation that his wings weren’t white.

Tony scanned the room for any more feathers and anything else noticeably out of place. When he found nothing, he returned to his room. And if he tucked the black feather in the same worn book that he kept Jarvis’ feather— well, that was between him and FRIDAY.

.

Tony slept until half-past nine.

“FRIDAY, did Peter get to school on time?” Tony groggily asked, forcing himself to sit up and rub the sleep out of his eyes. His wings stretched out behind him.

He was a little salty that FRIDAY hadn’t woken him up, but he knew it’d likely been at Peter’s request.

“Yes, Boss. Peter also had a bowl of cereal, an apple, and a banana before leaving,” FRIDAY said, anticipating the next question.

Tony hummed approvingly and grabbed his phone to begin checking his notifications. Skimming through important emails and outright skipping the unimportant ones.

Eventually, after saving the best for last, Tony checked the message from Peter.

>>From: Kid
Don’t know when ur going to see this Mr. Stark but i had a great time yesterday oh wait no that sounds so lame let me not send that one (07:12)
Oh are you f****** kidding me how did that even send (07:15)
Do me a favor and disregard all previous messages, i was trying to use speech to text, and it went horribly wrong. (07:30)

>>To: Kid
Peter B Parker, you kiss your aunt with that mouth? For shame. (10:20)
Good to see that you got up early enough to eat breakfast. (10:20)

>>From: Kid
Me? Swearing? No sir id never (10:21)
That was autocorrect trying to make me look bad. And i thought i told u to disregard those messages (10:21)

>>To: Kid
Sure. ill say that i believe you just this once (10:22)
Now get back to paying attention and being the smartest kid in that school (10:22)

Tony left his phone on his nightstand while he got ready for a day full of meetings and paperwork.

-

It was a brutal fight. Not because it was a hard fight, or even tiring— it was the fallout.

It started out as a simple enough fight: take down the robot, secure any evidence, catch the guy, and celebrate.

It started with Steve on standby while Natasha, Clint, and Sam secured the area and kept the robot distracted, all while Tony tried to find where the robot originated and who was behind it.

Then Clint’s arrows couldn’t pierce it, and explosive arrows only temporarily stalled it. Natasha tried to find any kind of chink in the armor, but so far yielded no results.

Sam was doing good at keeping the fight in one area, and any civilians out of harm's way.

Eventually, Steve hopped into the battle with the hope that his shield could do something against the robot's armor— and it did work. It took a few shots before Steve landed a hit that disabled the robot, seemingly having found the weak spot.

And then another one showed up. Smaller, sleeker, and faster.

“Iron Man, any idea on where these robots are coming from?” Steve asked, using his shield to deflect a piece of rubble.

“Not yet! It doesn’t help that someone decided to use an EMP without warning anyone!” Tony snapped.

“We were running out of options,” Clint said, because it had been his idea. “Besides, it’s like the first thought that comes into anyone’s brain when fighting a robot!”

“Yeah, I know!” Tony had dealt with more than his fair share of EMPs. A good number of them at the hands of his own thoughtless teammates— and by teammates, he means Clint. He was beginning to think he did it on purpose.

“Enough!” Natasha barked. “We can get bitchy with each other later.”

“At least it’s not shooting lasers,” Sam said, only to receive a chorus of groans. “What?”

“Don’t jinx it!” Clint yelled.

“You know what, Katniss, I hope one of these robots has a laser and I hope to God it hits you!” Tony snapped, still pissed about the most recent EMP and all the ones prior.

“Iron Man!” Steve snapped. “We need you on the field!”

“Really? For one robot?” Tony asked, even as he hurried to get to the fight.

“For six,” Steve answered, “one of them seems to be adapting to our fighting styles, two do not adapt but have the same design as that one.”

“The other three are just annoying,” Clint said plainly.

“They don’t adapt, they’re not fast, but they’re durable. They’re almost identical to the first robot,” Natasha provided, answering in a more helpful way than Clint.

“That’s weird,” Tony muttered to himself, aiming and firing at one of the robots. The robot looked around, but never had the idea of looking up. “Stupid, but durable.”

Why release them all at once, though?

“There’s a spot on their neck,” Steve started, “that’s where the armor is the weakest.”

“So, we’re decapitating these things?” Tony clarified. It didn’t work too well with his fighting style, but he’d make it work.

“I’m surprised Spider-Man isn’t here,” Sam announced, “this seems like something he’d be all over.”

“Yeah! Where is that slacker?!” Even as Clint exaggeratedly complained, his aim was perfect.

“Don’t know, but let’s not summon him, okay?” Tony said, because the last thing he needed was to see Peter anywhere near this, not before Tony figured out what was going on. “Is it just me, or does something feel off about this whole thing?”

“No. There is something strange about this,” Natasha agreed, ducking under a blast from one of the robots and digging a piece of rubble into one of the joints to slow it down.

“What would have made more sense is to release the durable ones first, one at a time. Get us tired, and get our guard down. Make us think all the robots are going to be this stupid. And then I’d send out the two better ones, one at a time, of course. Maybe from different directions to catch us more off guard. And then at the very end, release the adaptive model,” Tony rambled.

“...You think about this a lot, Stark?” Sam questioned, “because that was-”

“I can’t help it that my brain runs faster and better than your simple brains,” Tony said, successfully taking the head off one of the robots.

“This does seem poorly planned-out battle-wise,” Steve admitted. “Why go through so much work on creating different models with different coding and behavior, just to release them at the same time?”

“Except for the first one,” Sam pointed out, “so maybe Stark was onto something with that evil plan of his.”

“It wasn’t my plan,” Tony defended.

“We know. You’d never send out such ugly robots,” Natasha said, amusement evident in her voice.

“Thank you- Oh, hey.” Tony watched as the robot collapsed in front of him.

“Did someone find the kill switch?” Clint asked, confirming that all of the robots had just collapsed.

“It wasn’t me,” Steve said. “Widow?”

“Nope. Sam?”

“No, but I can report no civilian injuries.”

“Well,” Tony started, “I didn’t do it, but I will bear the burden of taking credit for it. No need to thank me.”

“Weren’t you the last person to show up?” Natasha pointed out.

When Tony landed in front of her, he raised his hands in surrender. “Talk to Cap, not me.”

“Oh, give me a break.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “You hardly ever follow orders-”

“And the one time I do, I get in trouble for it.” Tony folded his arms over his chest as best he could in the suit. “Maybe I was onto something not being a team player all these years.”

“Hey, good news, Stark! We found your itsy bitsy spider!” Sam called over the coms.

“He’s not-” Tony cut himself off and shook his head. “Whatever. FRIDAY, take me to Underoos.”

“And that brings us to the bad news,” Sam started.

Tony felt his blood run cold, and he pretended that his chest didn’t get suffocatingly tight. “What? What bad news?”

“I don’t know what happened between Spidey and the guy, but your spider was pissed. All we got was that he was controlling everything in the sewers,” Sam explained. “Guy’s out cold, too.”

“Either Webs has something against blackwings, or this guy really fucked up,” Clint added, because he loved to pour fuel onto a burning fire.

Tony stared at the black wings, a crow’s wings, carefully bound in the web. Even when pissed, Peter never strived to cause more harm than necessary. “No, he’s not like that. He knows that the wings don’t make the man or something like that.”

Steve’s face was pinched with worry when he arrived. “We’ll take care of clean-up, go look after Spider-Man.”

“What?!” Sam turned to Steve, then to Tony. “Hey, let’s trade. I’ll go check on the spider-”

Tony would have laughed in his face if he wasn’t on edge. “Great plan, Spangles. Best plan I’ve ever heard, if I do say so myself.”

“Wait! Can we use your card for dinner?!” Clint called after him.

The second he landed somewhere, “FRIDAY, show me the footage from Spider-Man’s lenses.”

.

“Hey, man!” Peter greeted and wiggled his fingers in a wave. “I would say that I love the makeshift workshop, but that’d be a lie.”

The dishelved man clearly didn’t like that he’d been taken off guard. “Spider-Man.”

“Evil scientist,” Peter echoed in the same tone, obviously mocking him. “Say, why don’t we skip the pleasantries and get right to the part where you explain what all this is, and we can just go on our merry way?”

The scientist's jaw clenched. “This…is my life’s work, and I won’t let you stop me. Not when I’ve already come so far.” The scientist laughed, sounding as deranged as he looked. “Not that you could! It’s far too late-”

Peter sighed and moved to lean against the worktable. In this position, he could see the screen of Steve taking down the robot. “Guess we’re not skipping the monologue, Jerry.”

The scientist’s fist clenched. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? Isn’t that your name?” Peter asked, shifting a bit closer.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Jerry said, his fists clenching and unclenching, “none of it matters.”

Peter reached up to scratch his head. “Okay…I’m not going to lie, I’m a little lost. One moment, you’re telling me it’s your life’s work, and now none of this matters?”

This seemed to enrage Jerry further, the man grabbing and hurling a wrench off into the distance.

“Thank you for not aiming that at me,” Peter said, nodding gratefully to him.

Jerry ignored him, instead choosing to stare at the screen as his breathing quickened.

Peter watched as Jerry watched his robot fail. “Come on, Jerry, don’t focus on that! Talk to me, you know, the guy who took time out of his day to see you!”

“I can’t lose, I won’t lose. They deserve this. They did this to me. It’s not my fault,” Jerry chanted.

“Jerry,” Peter started, moving forward to grab Jerry’s shoulder.

“They made me do this!” Jerry yelled as two black wings suddenly burst out and knocked Peter back. Jerry took advantage of Peter’s surprise to type in commands on the shitty little laptop on one of the tables.

“A…crow?” Peter whispered before shaking his head and regaining his bearings. “Jerry, what did you just do?”

Jerry’s wings were spread high and wide, which admittedly wasn’t very high or wide since he was a crow. “I released the rest.”

“The rest?” Peter echoed. “And how much is the rest?”

“Six robots.”

Peter was silent for a moment before slowly nodding. “Okay…why? You know that you’re busted, right? You’re only making things worse for yourself.”

Jerry’s wings faltered, a tell-tale sign of his wavering confidence. “Because I had to.”

“Says who?” Peter interrogated. “Were you put up to this? Is someone forcing your hand?” His tone was genuine.

Jerry’s wings dropped. “Society.”

Peter’s scoff was harsh. “Really?”

Jerry glared at him. “All my life, I’ve been treated like a villain. Like I’m some kind of monster, some bad omen!”

“Alright, get it out.” Peter waved his hand and began looking around the room.

Jerry didn’t seem to notice Peter looking around, or he didn’t care. “I had dreams, you know! I thought I was gonna go to college, settle down with a nice man, adopt some kids, and a cat— and then I learned. I learned just how impossible the world was for people like me.”

“If you mean people like you as in people who build robots to waste the Avengers’ time, then yes. Yes, the world can be pretty impossible, but hey! Maybe you’ll get to go on probation one day!”

“Is everything a joke to you?!” Jerry cried. “Do you have any idea how hard my life-”

A harsh laugh was ripped out of Peter’s throat. “Oh, give me a break! What the hell do you know about a hard life? You were homeschooled until you were 12 before graduating from a private school!”

“Everyone hated me!”

“Hey, buddy, I’ve got some news for ya— I think that had less to do with your wings, and more to do with your personality!” Peter snapped.

“You don’t know anything about me!” Jerry screamed.

“You said ‘society’ made you do this, right?” Peter stalked closer.

“They wanted me to be evil all my life. If they’re going to treat you like a villain, why try to be anything else? Society-”

“Okay, let’s stop right there,” Peter interrupted. “Society did not make you beat your boyfriend badly enough to put him in the ICU. Society did not make you drive your car through an older lady’s home and then try to run. Society did not make you do these things— that was all you, Jerry.”

Jerry stared at him for a long time before shaking his head. “You don’t get it. You could never get it.”

Peter’s breaths came as slow inhales and exhales.

“All my life, I was looked at as a freak. I couldn’t escape it, no matter where I turned, it was always there,” Jerry said, as if it changed anything. “Notes in my locker, snide comments in the hallways, getting asked to sit out of group photos if I had my wings out…”

“Are you done with your pity party?” Peter questioned. “Because all I’m hearing is that because some people were mean to you, you think it gives you the right to hurt innocent people.”

Jerry crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well, what gave them the right to treat me like that?!”

“Nothing gave them the right to treat you like that! What they did was wrong, and I know it sucked, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on everyone else!” Peter’s hands gestured wildly.

“They-”

“This isn’t about them, Jerry. This is about you, and your choices!” Peter countered. “You talk about society and how it treats people with black wings, well, guess what?! Do you think this is going to help anything? Or do you think this is going to just further cement the idea that crows can’t be trusted?”

Jerry stayed quiet, his jaw clenched shut.

“Answer me!” Peter grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

When the man did nothing but stare at him, Peter dropped him, his gaze following the man to the ground. “I can’t stand people like you.”

Peter turned to the little laptop, scanning the text before his fingers were flying across the keyboard.

“What’re you doing?” Jerry gasped.

“I’m stopping this mess,” Peter answered, effortlessly pushing Jerry off of him when he tried to stop him.

“Stop! I-”

Peter let out a sharp exhale. “Dude. I only let this go on so long because I knew your bots never stood a chance. They’re the Avengers, Jerry. They defeated a fucking alien army. What the hell makes you think they’re going to lose to six hastily designed robots?”

Jerry looked like he was barely processing the information. “This…isn’t fair.”

Peter crouched in front of him. “Life’s not fair. Build a bridge, get over it, and be the change in the world that you want to see.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Peter was quiet for a long moment. “You’ve got two options, Jerry. Come quietly, or get knocked out.”

.

Tony found Peter sulking on the rooftop of Stark Tower.

Tony stepped out of the suit, his wings stretched out, and flapped in relief at no longer being confined. “Hey, Petey-pie,” Tony greeted as he claimed his spot next to Peter.

Peter was out of the Spider-Man suit. Instead, he was dressed in his Hello Kitty pants and a stolen hoodie from Ned. “Hey.”

Tony considered him for a long moment. Noticing the way Peter’s jaw was still clenched, and how vacant his gaze was. “I like your pants.”

“Hm.”

“Someone very fashionable must’ve gotten them for you. And smart. And handsome. And young-”

Peter’s lips twitched up as he turned to face Tony. “I don’t know about that last one, Mr. Stark.”

As payback, Tony stretched his wing out to smack Peter. “Oops.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Not even gonna make up an excuse?”

Tony thought about it before shaking his head. “No.”

Peter made a sound that was almost a laugh before going back to staring at the view.

“You did good today,” Tony praised, copying Peter in staring, although he was sure that Peter could see a lot more than Tony could.

Peter shrugged. “I wanted to help him. I didn’t want it to…go the way that it had.”

Tony sighed and leaned back on his hands. “Some people don’t want help. Some people would rather take the easy way out.”

Tony owed Jarvis an apology for ever thinking that hiding his wings was the easy way out.

“You think that was the easy way out?” Peter asked with a weird tone.

Tony made a so-so motion with one of his hands. “It’s easier to give up, to give in, and let yourself get jaded by the world. It’s a lot harder to stay kind, to keep putting yourself out there after getting hurt. And, uh, something something staying true to yourself and being vulnerable takes strength.” Tony shot him a meaningful look.

Peter clapped for him. “Have you ever thought of becoming a motivational speaker? Because I think we might’ve found your calling.”

“Nah.” Tony shook his head, wrapping his wing around Peter and bringing him in close. “I’m not too big on public speaking.”

Peter snorted and muffled a laugh against Tony’s shoulder. “You’re ridiculous, Mr. Stark.”

“Says you,” Tony said, smiling down at Peter, safely tucked under his wing. It brought Tony a lot more peace of mind than it probably should have. “The team ordered Chinese. I snagged us some plates before they could eat it all.”

Peter hummed and lifted his head back up. “I think…I’m going to sit out here for a bit longer. I’m not ready to come in yet.”

Tony relaxed back into his position, no longer getting ready to push himself up.

“I thought you were going in?” Peter asked, watching as Tony re-settled next to him.

“No. I think I’ll hang out here a bit longer, too.” Tony knocked Peter’s foot with his own. “If that’s alright.”

Peter smiled at him. “More than.”

Tony didn’t know what was going on in Peter’s mind, but he didn’t have to know to be there for him.

It took him by surprise, but he didn’t pull away when Peter’s trembling hand grasped Tony’s hand. A moment later, there was the sound of ruffling feathers.

Tony resisted the urge to spin around and try to see if he could make anything out about Peter’s feathers.

“I’d like to show you my wings, one day,” Peter admitted, still not looking at Tony.

“You don’t-”

“I want to,” Peter insisted. “I’ve been wanting to. I just never knew how to approach it.”

Tony nodded and rewrapped his wing around Peter.

Peter leaned into him, his wings fluttering behind him. “I know that it’s not a big deal, at least not to you, but I still get so worked up over it. What if you hate them? What if you hate…”

Tony’s wing twitched. “Peter, I don’t care what your wings look like. Well, I do care, but that’s just because I’m a scientist. I like having all the data.”

Peter snorted and let the last of the tension slip away as he slumped against Tony, fully trusting that the man would keep him up.

The peace lasted for all of one minute before Tony opened his mouth. “You know, it’s pretty dark out here.” He watched Peter’s face for any reaction.

Peter’s opened slowly, lazily. “Yeah, it is...you wanna see how big my wings are?”

Tony shot him a look. “Scientist, Peter. Scientist,” Tony responded in lieu of screaming yes.

Peter grinned and pulled back from Tony, dislodging himself from the space under Tony’s wing. The kid practically danced behind Tony, away from the ledge of the tower and into position. “Ready?”

Tony stood and turned to get a better view without having to uncomfortably crane his neck. “Go for it, kid,” He encouraged, watching as Peter’s folded wings twitched with anticipation.

Peter rocked on his feet a few times before taking a deep breath and letting his wings fully unfold and stretch out. Unlike Tony’s wingspan, Peter’s wings stretched beyond the length of his arms.

Tony sucked in a breath. “Geeze, kid, how big is your wingspan?”

Even in the dark, Tony could see Peter preen. “About ten feet, a little over.”

Tony whistled. That was almost twice Tony’s wingspan.

Peter’s wings fluttered in the cool breeze before folding back neatly against his back. “I’m sure you can take a guess at what kind of bird I am, that is, if you don’t already know-” Peter kept talking.

Tony could? All he knew was that Peter had black feathers, as did a lot of birds, and that his bird had to be on the larger side. That was about it. Not nearly enough to make a guess about his wings.

“...But, uh,” Peter crackled his knuckles and flapped his wings, “thanks for waiting for me to tell you.”

Despite having missed a good chunk of what Peter just said, Tony smiled at him. “Of course, kid. No pressure.”

Peter cleared his throat and jabbed a finger towards the doors leading inside. “Well, we should probably head inside. Get some food before it gets too cold.”

“Sounds like a great plan, Pete.” Tony outstretched his wing when he got close to Peter, letting the kid take his place under it.

-

Predictably, the media didn’t hold back when they found out the man behind the robots was a Crow.

Unpredictably, there’s been nothing but radio silence from Peter for nearly three weeks.

The first week, Tony chalked it up to being busy. Finals were coming up soon, and despite easily being the smartest kid in the whole school, Peter still freaked himself out and tried to cram.

The second week, worry had set in. Every morning, every afternoon, and every night, Tony would check his messages to make sure that he hadn’t missed a notification.

Halfway through the second week, Tony sent a message.

>>To: Kid
I think this is a new record for you not blowing up my phone (00:55)

He’d typed and retyped a follow-up message before just turning his phone off.

“This is fine,” Tony said while staring up at the ceiling in his room. “Pete’s okay. Just busy.”

Tony’s stomach flipped and soured. “Everything’s fine.”

.

Two days later, Tony knocked on the Parkers’ door only to get no response. “Well…I’m sure they won’t mind too much if I just let myself in, right?” He muttered to himself. “If Pete’s allowed to bleed out on my bed, then I think it’s only fair that I get to come in uninvited.”

As fate would have it, the door was left unlocked, allowing Tony to step into the apartment and follow the sounds of heated voices.

“Peter!” May sounded exasperated. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Peter grumbled, and Tony could picture him pouting with his arms crossed.

“You have got to stop holding grudges!” May advised, emphasizing each word. Tony wondered how many times she’s had to say that.

“It’s not like I’m intentionally trying to hold them! Most of the time, I don’t even realize that I’m doing it!” Peter defended, his voice pleading.

“Peter, I love you very much,” May started softly, “but I think I’ll go insane if I have to keep enduring your muttering, grumbling, and pacing every time you see his face.”

“I don’t mutter!” Peter denied, not sounding very confident. “And I don’t pace.”

“Yes, you do.” May didn’t waver. “You pace, and your wings raise, and yesterday they knocked over the lamp.”

“And I caught it!”

May sighed.

There was silence, and suddenly, Tony got the feeling that maybe sneaking in and eavesdropping wasn’t the smartest idea. Too bad he was already in too deep.

“You were doing so well, Peter,” May said, softer.

“I’m still doing good,” Peter said, not sounding convincing in the slightest.

“Two weeks ago, you were talking about how you were going to show Tony your wings. You were practically obsessing over it.”

“I think obsessing is a stretch, but yeah. I was pretty excited.” There was a beat, and then, “Am. I am excited about it.”

May hummed. “What’s going on in that head of yours? I’m getting the feeling that it’s more than your usual grudge.”

Peter’s exhale was heavy. “And I’m getting the feeling that I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Tony guessed he’d eavesdropped enough, and knocked on the ajar bedroom door before pushing it open, revealing a stunned May and Peter. “You left the door unlocked.”

May recovered first, raising a brow at him. “And so you decided to just waltz in?”

“Yeah. But, let the record show, that I knocked on Peter’s door before entering.”

“You did it simultaneously, so it doesn’t count,” Peter pointed out. “You’re supposed to knock, wait for an answer, and then open the door.”

“The door wasn’t closed; it was already open,” Tony argued.

May stood up, stretching her arms above her head. “Well, I’ll let you two boys work this out while I get ready for work.”

Peter’s face scrunched. “Work? At this time?”

“Skills fair,” May answered. “I’ll be gone and back in no time.”

“But I thought-” Peter started.

May’s wings fluttered behind her before being tucked away. “Be good for Tony.”

Peter looked at Tony, then back at the doorway where May once stood. “Aunt May! Did you tell him to come here?!”

“No!” May yelled before shutting the door to her room, signifying the end of the discussion and leaving Peter and Tony.

“I love your coat, Pete. So stylish,” Tony commented, referring to the way Peter had his blanket wrapped around him.

Peter narrowed his eyes at him.

Tony plopped onto the bed next to him, trusting that Peter would have learned to move his feet by now. “So, what’s this I hear about grudges? I never took you for the grudge type.”

Peter groaned and flopped backwards, his wings shifting to accommodate under the blanket. “That’s because I don’t want to be.”

“What’re you even holding a grudge about?”

Was it something Tony did? Did Tony say the wrong thing? Was he not impressed enough with Peter’s wings? Did he insult them— no, he knew he didn’t do that one.

Peter looked away from him to stare at his ceiling.

“Bye, boys!” May called out, “I’d come in there, but I’m already running late!”

“Bye, Aunt May! Love you!” Peter called back, before jutting his foot out to nudge Tony’s thigh. “You didn’t say bye.”

“I haven’t left yet,” Tony pointed out. He didn’t know that he was supposed to.

“She did, though.”

“She’ll be back,” Tony assured Peter, patting him on his ankle.

Peter just grumbled and turned onto his side.

Tony decided to let him brood for a few seconds before deciding that was boring. “Are you ever going to tell me what grudge you have? Is it against me? Because, kid, if you’re mad at me, then you have to spell it out for me; I will not catch on or pick up the hints.”

Peter twisted around just enough to give him an odd look. “Why would I be mad at you?” Peter asked incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe the idea would even appear in Tony’s head.

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know, hence why I asked. All I know is that it’s been radio silence from you for nearly three weeks, and now you have a mysterious grudge that fits perfectly in that time frame.”

Peter hummed, his feet pushed at Tony's thigh. “Can I ask you a bit of a personal question, Mr. Stark?”

Tony swallowed the panic. “Not while calling me Mr. Stark, you can't.”

Peter didn’t hesitate betraying just how serious he was. “Tony, then.”

“Shoot, kid.” Tony leaned forward. “I'm sure I've asked you plenty of personal questions over the years, what's one-”

“Do you like your wings, Tony?” Peter questioned with a searching gaze.

Tony wiped his hands against his thighs. He’d never been asked that before; nobody cared what a Sparrow had to say about their wings. Perfectly average.

“Yes?” Tony answered hesitantly, before getting more confident, “Yeah, I do.”

Peter tilted his head, and something thoughtful flashed across his face. “Some people would say that your wings are small. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Tony shrugged. “Not really. It’d be cool to have big wings like Steve’s or yours, but not practical.” He replayed what he said. “Don’t tell Steve that I said that.”

Peter’s lip twitched up for a brief moment before he schooled his face into something somber. “Right, because you’re all about practicality, Mr. Stark.”

Tony squeezed Peter’s ankle. “Hey, at the very least call me Tony when you’re grilling me.”

Peter rolled his eyes with an exasperated look. “I’d hardly call this grilling you.”

Tony raised a brow, but otherwise didn’t correct him. Instead of bickering with Peter until they forgot what they’d even been trying to talk about, Tony reconsidered the question.

“I think,” Tony started after a long moment of debating, “it did bother me, at one point.”

Peter perked up the slightest bit, and Tony knew he’d made the right choice. “Really?” The kid asked softly, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah.” Tony looked at the Iron Man poster Peter had hung up in his room. “Neither of my parents had huge wings. But Jarvis? He had these huge wings; he was a Raven, and his wingspan was at least 13 feet from tip to tip.”

No matter how many years passed, the dull pang in Tony’s chest at realizing he’d never see Jarvis’ wings again never disappeared. He’d never get to help Jarvis preen his perfect feathers, get to run his fingers through them, or-

Unlike the other times, when Peter nudged Tony’s thigh with his foot, it was gentle. Belatedly, Tony realized that his wings were beginning to curl around him. Peter’s face was soft, but not pitying— Peter didn’t do pity.

“I think Jarvis would have liked you,” Tony blurted.

Peter’s eyes went wide, and his face went bashful. “Oh, I don’t know about that…”

“No, seriously!” Tony insisted. “You’re a good kid, Pete,” he couldn’t meet Peter’s eyes as he spoke, “the world’s given you every reason and excuse to be angry and vengeful, but you’re not.”

Peter shrank into himself.

“You may think that you are, but you’re not. Not really.” While he spoke, Tony brought one of his wings close to mess with some of the feathers, straightening any feather that looked slightly out of place. “You’re so kind, Peter. Even when you’re pissed, you still show kindness. You show more compassion to people actively trying to stab you than most show at all.”

Peter’s laugh was wet as he scrubbed his face with his hand. “Did Aunt May put you up to this? Show me your hand, so I know she didn’t write a script on them.”

“Nope!” Tony popped the ‘p’ for emphasis. “I came up with all that organically. Be impressed.”

Peter clapped for him. “Brilliant.”

Tony waved his hand to cut off the applause. “Okay, I was trying to make a point. What point was I making?”

Peter blinked at him when Tony looked at him expectantly. “How should I know? You were the one making it, not me.”

Tony glared at him before remembering. “Oh, right. Wings.” He cracked his knuckles. “Growing up near Jarvis definitely set me up for some disappointment-”

“Disappointment? That you weren’t a Raven?” Peter asked incredulously, as if Peter couldn’t fathom someone wanting to be a Raven.

Tony mulled it over before making a so-so motion. “I think it was more about the size of the wings than the type. But that was when I was younger. I grew out of it eventually and came to realize that wings don’t mean anything.”

Peter raised his brow. “Really?”

“We’re not actually birds, we’re humans. Completely different species.”

“But our wings are based on birds, and you can’t deny the evidence of residual bird traits or whatever that we have,” Peter pointed out.

Tony hummed and contemplated his point. “No.”

“No? What do you mean: no? It’s a studied fact. Ultimately, whoever a person is depends on who they choose to be, but traits and behaviors are there if you look.”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t believe it. Because if I find out that there are people who don’t suffer from sleep-deprivation while I have to, I might genuinely lose it.”

Peter snickered at that. “Well, not like that. Of course, everyone will suffer from sleep deprivation, we’re humans— wait, do I still-?”

“Yes, you still count as a human. Being part spider doesn’t erase the fact that your DNA is mostly human.”

Peter nodded and accepted Tony’s words before lighting up. “Speaking of me being spider, you know how I like to make webs and lounge in them?”

“...Yes? I don’t think you ever cleaned up that one corner of my lab, by the way,” Tony reminded Peter.

“I build the webs to be secure like a spider would. Except, unlike a spider, I have an emotional attachment to the web-nests that I spend a lot of time on crafting. Does that make sense?”

Tony considered it before nodding. “I think? It’s spider behavior, but human.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically, his wings flapping excitedly under the blanket they were still hidden under. “Okay, that but with the bird behavior and traits!”

“I guess I get what you mean.”

“Besides, like with most things, there’s no one-size-fits-all! It’s not the same across the board. Like, did you know that Ravens and Crows don’t tend to mix well?”

Tony supposed that made sense. “Go on.”

“In some cases, they can tolerate each other, some have even mated together, and other times the Crows and Ravens will fight— and despite being smaller, Crows tend to win because they’re a lot more social than Ravens, and so it’s usually a flock of Crows going after one Raven. Strength in numbers, y’know.”

Tony stared at Peter. “You sure do know a lot about Ravens and Crows.”

For some reason, Peter sarcastically said: “Gee, I wonder why.” Peter clapped his hands. “So, anyway, just because something is the usual, Ravens and Crows not mixing, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible for them to get along— especially in humans. Just, uh, don’t confuse the two of them,” Peter said with a nervous laugh.

Tony nodded. “I guess that makes sense.” Then, remembering the random bird fact, “Say, what’s your research say about people with Crow wings and grudges?”

Peter’s smile immediately slipped off his face, and his expression shifted into something sullen.

“What?!” Tony cried at the abrupt mood switch.

“You’re wrong for that.” Peter flopped back down on the bed, his back to Tony.

Why would Peter be upset at that question?

“You have got to stop holding grudges!”

Tony laughed, probably a bit too loud, judging by Peter’s glower. When Tony reigned himself back in, “Peter, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I think you did,” Peter mumbled, his wings were attempting to ruffle under the blanket.

“No.” Tony shook his head. “I just brought it up because of the random fact generator that you sent me. I wasn’t even thinking about you and May’s conversation that I definitely wasn’t eavesdropping on.”

Peter groaned and moved to fling an arm over his eyes. “Yes, you were. I know you were. And you said that to make fun of me.”

“Peter, I would never!” Tony exclaimed with an overdramatic hand to his chest, his wings rippling behind him.

Peter rolled onto his stomach and groaned into the pillow. “Why'd you come here, then, if not to torment me?”

“It's been radio silence for three weeks. Usually, my phone doesn't go two days without at least one notification from you.”

Peter was quiet for a long moment. “It's just easier, y'know?”

No, Tony did not know.

“It’s easier to avoid social media, and whatever they’re saying about the Crow, when your phone’s off.” Peter burrowed deeper into his pillow, curling in on himself.

Tony worried his bottom lip; his wings twitched behind him. He didn’t want to be harsh, but- “Peter, you can’t do that. You can’t just have your phone off for nearly a month.”

Peter sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“What if there had been an emergency? What if someone needed to get ahold of you? Did you think of that?” Tony pressed, because if Peter knew then why would he do it?

Peter growled. “I said that I know!”

Tony clenched his jaw. He debated holding his tongue and keeping his questions to himself, but if this was going to cause problems, then surely he had a right to ask?

“I don’t get it, Peter,” Tony admitted, not trying to sound harsh. “I know the media sucks, I get that part, but to go as far as to turn your phone off? I mean, they’re not even talking about him anymore, they’ve moved on to run some story about some white-winged hero doing the bare minimum.”

Peter sat up and glared at him. “So, what am I supposed to do? Brush it off? Ignore it?”

“I mean- yeah?”

That was not the right answer.

Peter’s face went tight, and then he was scrambling off the bed and storming out of the room. Leaving Tony and the blanket that had been covering his black wings behind.

Because, of course, Peter was a Raven…and Tony was an asshole.

Eventually, Tony shook himself out of his stunned shock and followed Peter. Walking into the small living room, the ball of black stood out immediately.

It looked like Peter was sitting with his knees to his chest, his wings forming a protective cocoon around him.

“Peter?” Tony called as he approached.

“Go away,” Peter croaked.

Tony sat down on the couch beside him. “I don’t think I can do that, kid.”

“Put one foot in front of the other, and let the door hit you on the way out,” Peter moodily grumbled with a sniffle.

Even when in emotional distress, Peter was still a little shit. Tony sighed. “Peter, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Peter denied. “You don’t even sound sorry, you sound exasperated.”

“I can be both!” Tony insisted. “I’m sorry that I put my foot in my mouth, and I’m exasperated that you’re-”

Peter’s wings drooped, and Tony could see his face. “No, it’s okay.” He lifted his sleeve to wipe his red-rimmed eyes. “You’re right.”

Tony was right, but felt no satisfaction at how dejected Peter looked when he admitted it.

“It’s just…annoying, and it’s so draining.” Pete sniffled. “I just want to live my life, and I wish that people could just be held accountable for what they did without making it about their wings or whatever. Because that’s not fair!”

Tony’s hand hesitated before gently making contact with Peter’s wing. When Peter’s wing didn’t move, he gently ran his hand down the wing.

“It’s not fair,” Tony agreed, “but that’s society.” Tony idly fixed any out-of-place feathers on Peter’s wing. “We may not be able to control what people say about us, but we can control how we respond.”

Peter’s exhale was shaky. “How do you do it?”

“I ignore it. They don’t know me, they don’t know anything about me. Not the man that I am these days, anyway.” Tony cleared his throat. “It’s the same way that you deal with the Bugle. Or at least how you should be dealing with the Bugle.”

Peter smiled at the Bugle mention. “Yeah, I know that stuff's bullshit, but…it’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Tony tilted his head. “People who know nothing about-”

“But there’s only one Spider-Man,” Peter insisted. “It’s not the same.”

Tony hummed and gestured for Peter to join him on the couch, instead of curled up on the floor.

Peter didn’t hesitate to crawl next to him, his wings folding back so that he could curl into Tony.

Tony let his wing drape over Peter and pull him close. “It may not be exactly the same, but the principle is: people who don’t know a damn thing are writing like they do. Why? Because they know it’s going to get clicks, views, and commentary. People are going to get angry and talk about it, people are going to see it and preach about it, and people are going to just read it and go on about their day.”

Peter just grumbled and curled closer to Tony.

Tony didn’t know what else to say, so he chose to let Peter decompress in silence. This had to have been a lot for Peter— May talking to him about grudges, Tony harassing him, and Peter revealing his wings to Tony; all on top of stressing about what the media was saying.

“I’m sorry that you had to reveal your wings to me like this,” Tony apologized.

“What?” Peter asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“I mean…I’m sure you didn’t want to show them to me like this. That you didn’t want me to find out-”

“You didn’t know? I thought you already knew what my wings were,” Peter said, his wings twitching behind him.

“Why would I have known?” Tony raised a brow at him.

Peter gaped up at him. “I mean- you could have pieced it together! It’s not like it was subtle!”

Tony shrugged. “There was actually a moment in time where I thought you might be a Mourning Dove.”

Peter’s face scrunched. “Why?” He leaned away, and his wings pressed close to his body as if they were one word away from being tucked away. “Did you want me to have white wings?”

Tony shook his head. “No! Mourning Doves have grey wings, for the record, and I’m very relieved that you’re a-”

Peter’s face scrunched. “You’re relieved?”

“Well, not relieved but…you know,” Tony trailed off.

Peter gave him a quizzical look. “Uh, no, I don’t.”

Tony had two choices: backtrack and play it off as a poor word choice, or tell the truth.

Tony ran a hand through his hair, and his wing flapped behind him before folding against his back. “I just don’t have the greatest history with white winged people. I know that it’s not fair, but I see those white wings, and it’s like I’m transported back to that moment in time— hurt and knowing that I can’t tell anyone because-” Tony still couldn’t believe that he got choked up.

“Because no one would believe you,” Peter finished for him.

Tony snorted. “Worse than that. I could practically envision the headlines: the merchant of death trying to defame white wings!” He spat, ignoring the burning behind his eyes.

Peter hummed and pressed closer to him.

“It just drove me crazy,” Tony continued, in too deep to stop now, “even now with my almost-good reputation: if I, with all my power and money and influence, can’t say anything against a white winged person, then how could anyone? And they knew it, too!”

Peter squeezed his shoulder. “They know, and they use it to their advantage.”

“Because society lets them. It’s been over thirty years, and the narrative still hasn’t changed!” Tony forced his wings to fold against his back instead of being raised and spread— unaware that there wasn’t actually a fight about to happen.

Peter shifted closer to wrap a black wing around him, not trying to cover him like Tony did. “The narrative may not be changing on a large scale, but there’s at least been some change.”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Tony said, focusing on the black feathers.

Peter didn’t seem to mind Tony messing with them. “I had a friend once, he was a White Tern.”

“...Was he a nice guy?” Tony asked, not seeing where the story was going.

Peter’s eyes darted away. “Uh, no. But when I came forward, they believed me.” Peter’s face softened into a smile. “It’s easy to get lost in the media and think that everyone worships people with white wings when they don’t. Plenty of people know that anyone is capable of doing bad, no matter what wings they have.”

Tony hummed and gently pinched a feather between his thumb and index finger, just feeling it. “Good. I would have had to track down and beat the brakes off him if it hadn’t been dealt with. One less thing on my to-do list.”

Peter’s laugh sounded like it was ripped out of him. “Mr. Stark! No!”

Tony frowned at him. “You can’t go back to calling me Mr. Stark. We had a whole emotional conversation about wings and society, we’re on a first-name basis now.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Peter dismissed.

A few moments of peaceful silence went by before Peter ruined it: “You having fun playing with my wing?” Peter asked.

Tony immediately shoved the wing off of him at being called out. “You ruined the moment. I’m gone.”

“What?! No, wait! Come back!” Peter called after him.

“First, you go back to calling me Mr. Stark, and secondly, you’re making up lies about me! Accusing me! Falsely!”

Peter flapped his wings. “Tony, come back! I’m sure you were doing very important work petting and realigning my already straight feathers,” he said with faux-sincerity.

“You’re the worst!”

-

“Good morning, Mr. Stark!” Peter chirped, skipping into the lab.

Tony grumbled and took another swig of his coffee. “It's three pm.”

Peter dropped his bag near the door, just enough out of the way that no one would trip, but close enough that he'd remember to grab it on his way out.

“Yeah, but you just woke up. So, good morning.” Peter wheeled his chair over to Tony. “What’re you working on?”

Tony would have shifted over if Peter hadn’t fully leaned over and hooked his chin over Tony’s shoulder. Tony could have shoved him off, like he would have anyone, instead, he eyed Peter. “Got a good enough view?”

“Yep. Now tell me what you’re doing, show me,” Peter pushed.

Tony brought back up the schematics for the watch. “I’m trying to use nanobots to turn this watch into a gauntlet.”

“...I thought that you already did that?” Peter reached out to play with the schematics.

“I did,” Tony accepted, “and now I’m trying to do it better. I want the nanotech to be faster, I want my gauntlet more powerful, like my newer suits, and I want to add more features to the watch aspect of it.”

Peter stared at the schematics before turning to the work-in-progress watch. “Hm. Cool!” Peter leaned back and began wheeling to his station. “I think today I’ll work on my webshooters. I think I want to slim the design. Make them less noticeable.”

Tony nodded absent-mindedly, staring at the blank space where Peter’s wings should be.

After a moment, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Peter quipped.

“Why aren’t your wings out?” Tony asked, then realized how demanding that sounded. “Not that you have to take them out, but I thought we were there and it can’t be comfortable-”

Peter turned to face him. “It’s not you, it’s just…any Avenger can walk in here. Or Ms. Potts, or Colonel Rhodes, or Happy! A lot of people.”

Tony’s brows furrowed. “Peter, none of them would care. Pepper’s father was a Magpie, and Rhodey loved Jarvis almost as much as I did. Almost. And the Avengers-”

Peter bit his lip. “It’s not that I think they’ll have a problem with it, it’s just hard,” he admitted the last part quietly, as if he was ashamed.

“Why?”

“Well, it’s- I-” Peter groaned and threw his head back. “It was easier to show you, because you’re…you.”

Tony grinned at Peter. “I’m what?”

Peter’s cheeks pinkened. “You’re the worst. That’s what you are.”

Tony shook his head and kicked off the tile to roll in front of Peter. “That’s not what you were going to say.”

Peter glared at him. “Fine. You’re…I consider you to be part of my family,” Peter admitted, “that’s why I showed you my wings.”

Tony plastered on his patented arrogant smirk, decidedly ignoring the way his wings flapped happily. “You flatter me.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ugh. This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d get a big head about it.” Peter tucked his head to hide his smile.

Then, Tony realized something. “Wait. So, you actually are a traditionalist?”

Peter blinked at him with an odd expression. “Yes? Didn’t I tell you that I was?”

“I thought that was just an excuse you thought of to not show me your wings,” Tony admitted.

It’d been a theory he thought of while he’d laid in bed and overthought everything and nearly convinced himself that Peter was going to regret showing him his wings and they’d never speak again—

“No, I was being serious,” Peter confirmed. “It’s not that I don’t trust them, because I’ll probably show them my wings sometime in the near future— I would have done it sooner, but I didn’t want to reveal my wings to them before I revealed them to you, because I wanted you to be the first one. But then I kept getting into my head and kept freaking myself out,” Peter rambled.

Tony gently put his hand on Peter’s mouth, his wings twitched behind him. “Okay. So, we can just put the lab in privacy mode. If anyone wants to come in, no matter their clearance, we’ll get a heads-up, and FRIDAY will give you time to tuck your wings away. Sound good?”

Peter nodded and pulled away from Tony’s hand. “Only if that’s okay with you. This is your lab-”

Tony rolled his eyes at his kid. “This is our lab, Pete.”

Peter’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. Then, Peter was grinning as his wings stretched out; that was the only warning Tony got before Peter launched himself at the man, wrapping his arms and wings around him and squeezing. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

“Peter,” Tony croaked in Peter’s grip, “you’re going to suffocate me.”

“No, I’m not.” Peter sighed happily, his wings fluttering.

Tony grumbled just to keep his reputation intact, but let his hands come up to run through Peter’s feathers. “My coffee’s going to get cold,” he said as he held on a bit tighter.

“No it won’t. You drank it all.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I’m staring at your empty mug right now. DUM-E is trying to refill it with motor oil,” Peter crowed as he backed away.

“What?!” Tony sprang into action. “DUM-E, no!”

Peter snickered at his misfortune.

.

At the end of their lab session, while Tony was walking Peter to the garage, Peter abruptly turned to him with fidgeting wings. “Um, Tony?”

“Yes, Roos?” Tony asked, hoping the embarrassing nickname would relax him.

Peter cracked his knuckles. “So, uh, Aunt May usually gets invited to this girls' trip every year. It’s like a weekend getaway, and it’s her and her friends from work.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. Does she need a plane ticket? A car? Money?”

Peter shook his head, “No! No, no. She usually says no, but this year -since I’m old enough to be home alone for the weekend- she said yes.”

Tony furrowed his brows. “Why stay at your apartment alone when you can just spend the weekend here? You have a room, you know.”

Peter’s brows went up. “I do?”

“Of course, you do. Why wouldn’t you?” Tony asked, before remembering that his kid overthought more than Tony did. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”

Peter blinked before shaking himself out of his daze. “Um, I actually wanted to ask something more…personal.”

“I’ll hang myself if you ask me to buy you condoms,” Tony blurted. “Just give me a few weeks to forget this conversation ever happened, and then ask me for twenty bucks for candy. Or better yet, just take the money out of my wallet-”

Peter screeched, his wings snapping open. “Why do you always do this to me?! You always come up with the craziest theories!”

“You’re the one saying stuff like weekend alone, and personal question!” Tony argued.

Peter’s face was beet red. “I- forget it!”

“Wait!” Tony called after him. “Happy’s not even here yet!”

“I’ll walk home!” Peter’s wings folded against his back tightly as he stormed away.

“Come back and tell me what you wanted to ask me!” Tony yelled even as Peter kept storming away.

Five minutes later, when Happy pulled up and asked where Peter was— “Beats me. He was here one second, and gone the next. But since you’re already here, why don’t you take my card and go get a bunch of stuff you think the kid will like?”

Happy didn’t look ecstatic, but took the card. “And why are we trying to give the kid diabetes?”

“Well, I may have upset my kid, and I need to win him over again.”

Happy sighed and climbed back into the car. “Good luck with that one, Boss.”

.

Unsurprisingly, come Friday afternoon, Peter stepped out of the elevator with a small bag.

Tony, who had crawled out of his lab at the notification that Peter was in the building, grinned and flapped his wings at him. “Pep’s out of the country for Stark Industries business, and my Platypus is out of state doing something secret, so we’ve got the penthouse to ourselves.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at him.

“Peter, you’re not seriously still upset about what happened last week, are you?” Tony asked; he knew Jarvis mentioned Corvids holding grudges, but he never thought the man was serious.

“You say that like it’d be unreasonable,” Peter said, tone unreadable and face inscrutable.

Tony got the feeling that he’d have to tread very carefully. “No, but remember what we talked about? When I said that you’d have to come to me when you were upset with me?”

“And remember when I tried to invite you to preen my wings, and you made a perverted joke instead?” Peter challenged with a pointed glare.

Despite his teenager being actively pissed at him, Tony couldn’t stop his excitement. His wings fluttered behind him. “Really?”

“Yes!” Peter snapped, folding his arms over his chest. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to work up the courage to ask you that, just for you to make a joke out of it?” He hissed.

Tony raised his hands. “Hey! I was not making a joke out of it, I was being perfectly sincere.”

Peter groaned and covered his face with his hands, his wings coming out to provide another layer of privacy. “That makes it worse.”

“No, it doesn’t! It’s perfectly-”

Peter’s wings raised. “Stop talking!”

“If we stop talking about it, does that mean you’ll let your grudge go?”

“Yes!” Peter yelled. “Anything to keep you from bringing something like that up ever again!”

“Deal!” Tony snapped his fingers. “So…preening? When?”

Peter scoffed. “And what makes you think that I’m going to let you touch these?”

Tony blinked at him. “You already have.”

Peter took a deep breath. “Saturday. I like to do it closer to the morning so that if I end up falling asleep, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Tony nodded and took mental notes. “Anything else? Any sore or sensitive spots?”

“Nah.” Peter shook his head. “I’ve got a scar at the base of my left wing, from when I got into a fight as a kid. But that’s more of a heads-up for you.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, there were like six kids, and I was a small but feral kid. Something tore when they were trying to pull me off, and yeah. It healed up fine, but I don’t want you to see it and freak out or make it into something bigger than it is.” Peter shrugged and walked past Tony to the kitchen, letting his wing extend to brush against Tony’s wing.

“I don’t know what I’m more pissed about,” Tony said as he followed Peter. “The way that you don’t seem to care that they hurt your wing, or that you don’t have a grudge against them, but had one against me.”

Peter laughed at him. “I only let it go because Aunt May forced me to; besides, this was a decade ago!”

Something in Tony just couldn’t make peace with the image of his kid pinned down and getting his wing torn. And it was a decade ago, so it wasn’t even his kid— it was his baby.

Tony felt Peter’s wing wrap around him.

“Relax, it’s fine! I just wanted you to know so that you wouldn’t freak out later,” Peter assured. “It’s fine, and it’s a small scar.”

“It’s not fine,” Tony grumbled, his own wings coming up to try and cover Peter.

Peter leaned in. “Yes, it is. Now, make me some food, and take me down to the lab. I wanna see all the cool new stuff.”

.

Tony had spent most of the night researching preening Ravens. He knew what a good, healthy Raven feather looked like, and refamiliarized himself with the motions of preeing.

It still didn’t make him feel any more confident when Peter strolled into the common area; Tony hadn’t dared to get sucked into a project in the lab.

“Ready?” Peter asked, pointedly twitching his wings.

“Yep.” Tony tossed the tablet to the side. “Follow me, I’ve got this really comfy chair just for preening.”

When Peter felt the chair, “Oh, wow! This is soft and comfortable.” The chair allowed for Peter to sit, and comfortably lean forward.

Tony took a seat behind Peter. “Tell me when I can start.”

Peter hummed and relaxed his wings. “Go for it.”

Predictably, Tony started with taking the opportunity to get a good look at Peter’s feathers. Aside from the few that had fallen out, he hadn’t had an opportunity to fully assess his wings.

Tony didn’t know that he liked his findings.

Peter’s feathers were beautiful, no doubt. They were the classic iridescent blue and purple, but they weren’t very glossy like a Raven’s wings should be; a sign of vitamin A and/or calcium deficiency, or maybe inadequate grooming— those were the two biggest ones.

Peter turned his head. “What? What’s wrong?” His voice was worried. “Why aren’t you doing anything?”

Tony shook off his thoughts. “It’s nothing, Peter.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing!” Peter turned his head to try and catch Tony’s eye. “Just tell me! Is something wrong?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” Tony assured.

“Fixed?!” Peter screeched. “What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Tony rushed to placate. “Your feathers are just not as glossy as they should be, that’s all. Easy fix! Just better grooming, more-”

Peter nearly broke the chair with how fast he sprang off of it. “What does that mean? My feathers aren’t shiny enough?” Peter grabbed his wing, inspecting his feathers.

“It could be a vitamin or calcium deficiency,” Tony tried to answer, but he didn’t think Peter was listening.

“I don’t- they look fine to me,” Peter said, turning to Tony. “They look healthy, and they are glossy! They’ve got their usual shine to them.”

“They’re not unhealthy!” Tony reassured. “They do have shine and gloss, yes, but they should have more. Jarvis-”

For some reason, Peter’s face screwed up. “What do Jarvis’ wings have to do with anything?! He was a Raven! Our wings aren’t the same!”

Tony felt as though the world had stopped spinning. “Wait. You’re not a Raven?”

Peter froze, and then somehow looked more infuriated. “No! I’m not a Raven! I’m a Crow!”

“Oh.”

“How could you say that to me?!” Peter screeched. “I literally told you, I explicitly told you do not confuse us! Do you want to fucking die?!” Peter looked ready to throttle him.

“I thought I wasn’t!” Tony defended himself with raised hands and lowered wings.. “I really thought you were a Raven, and you never told me any different!”

Peter’s wings raised and spread in all their ten-foot glory. “Oh! So it’s my fault?”

Tony needed to defuse the situation before someone, him, got hurt. “I never said that.”

“You implied it,” Peter grumbled, and he glared at Tony for a moment before his wings fell defeatedly. “Well. I’m so sorry to disappoint you that I’m just a Crow with ugly fucking wings, I guess.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth!”

Peter brushed past him and stormed out of the room.

“Boss,” FRIDAY started, “I believe you may have hurt Peter’s feelings.”

Tony took a slow, deep breath. “Yeah, FRIDAY. I’m aware.”

.

Tony gave Peter a few hours to calm down. Mostly for his own safety.

He put the few hours into putting the final touches, mostly cosmetic, onto his watch/nanotech gauntlet.

It was a functional watch, and a functional Iron Man gauntlet when needed to be.

The watch was shiny gold and had plenty of interesting features for Peter to play with. If Tony spent extra long making sure that it was shiny, well, Peter didn't have to know.

Watch in hand, Tony knocked on Peter's door. When he didn't get a scathing dismissal, he pushed open the door.

“What do you want?” Peter's voice was flat. He was lying on his bed, bundled up and facing away from Tony.

“I just wanted to come and check on you…and grovel,” Tony admitted, looking around the room. He felt a twinge of guilt when he spotted the half empty multivitamin bottle and the bottles of wing oils.

Peter must have seen him eyeing the bottles. “I take supplements regularly. I preen my feathers, what I can reach, every day, and May does the ones that I can't every weekend.”

Tony sat on the bed next to him. “Peter, I am so sorry.”

Peter shrugged. “It's not your fault that my wings are ugly.”

Tony grabbed Peter's hand. “No, Peter, your wings are beautiful. They're amazing, and I promise I mean that. I was only ever concerned for you, okay? They're not ugly, and I never thought they were. I was just worried about your health.”

Peter whined, and his wings came up to shield his face from Tony.

Tony felt his chest get tight at Peter's muffled sobs. “Peter, how can I fix this?”

He didn't think a shiny new toy would help this at all.

Peter hiccupped. “I really wanted you to like my wings, but you don't.”

Tony moved to rub Peter's back, carefully avoiding the base of his wings. “Peter, I love your wings! They're gorgeous, and now that I know I'm looking at a Crow’s wings, they're so healthy. You take such good care of them,” Tony praised, hesitantly running his fingers through Peter's feathers.

“You're lying!” Peter accused through sobs.

Tony didn’t have a response that wasn’t just another denial. “I’m not lying, Pete,” Tony tried anyway.

Peter just whimpered, and his wings curled tighter around him.

Tony held his breath and moved to sit in front of his kid. “Peter, look at me.”

Peter’s breath hitched.

“Come on, Peter. Let me see my spider-baby’s face.”

Peter sniffled, and his wings lowered so he could level Tony with a petulant look. “I’m not a baby,” he contested.

But he didn’t contest that he was Tony’s.

Peter’s face was blotchy and red, his eyes red-rimmed with visible tear tracks on his cheeks. He looked pitiful and so unlike himself.

“Peter,” Tony started, looking Peter in the eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t-”

Tony inched closer so that his wings could somewhat wrap around Peter— it wasn’t exactly possible when sitting face-to-face with his kid, not with how short his wings were, but the gesture was there.

“I know that I’ve been putting my foot in my mouth a lot recently, and have been making a whole mess of you revealing your wings to me.”

Peter’s brows furrowed, and he frowned at Tony. “No.”

“Yes, Pete,” Tony insisted before clearing his throat. “You’ve got to know that even before I saw your wings, I knew that I was going to love them.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at him. “You couldn’t have known that.”

Tony nodded. “Sure, I’d hoped that they wouldn’t be white wings, but even then I knew that it didn’t really matter what bird you took after, because they’re your wings.”

Peter tilted his head as if he wasn’t quite following.

Tony swallowed and let his gaze drift. “I knew that I’d love your wings, because I…love you,” Tony forced himself to finish.

Peter stared at him for a long moment.

With every passing second that Peter didn’t respond, Tony felt more sweat gather on the back of his neck.

Had he horribly misread their entire relationship? Tony had thought that they were getting closer with each night and the following morning spent at the Tower or Compound, each lab day, every school event— was it all in Tony’s head?

Tony laughed nervously and started backing away.

“In like a, uh,” Tony fumbled, but stopped when he saw Peter smiling at him.

“Yeah. I love you, Tony,” Peter murmured, then bashfully, “sorry it took me so long. I just- everyone told me that I was gonna have to be the one who makes the first move.”

“Everyone?” Tony repeated. “And just who’s everyone?”

Peter grinned. “Oh, you know. Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey,” he listed.

Tony rolled his eyes. “So all of my close circle, got it.”

Peter’s wings fluttered behind him. “Most of them, except Happy, were unprompted. If that makes you feel any better.”

Tony groaned and put his head into his hands. “No, it really doesn’t.”

“It was kind of funny. Pepper sat me down and told me that you cared a lot about me but that you’d have a hard time talking about it. Rhodey just asked me point-blank if my love language was ‘words of affirmation’, and when I said no, he nodded and left.”

“I don’t know what to be more upset about. Their lack of faith in me, or them believing that you’re less emotionally constipated than me.”

Peter clutched his sides as he laughed.

“It’s like they don’t even know you!” Tony continued, mentally filing through all the heart-to-hearts they’ve had over the years (not a lot). “I’m pretty sure I’ve initiated most, if not all, feelings conversations with you!”

“Well, duh!” Peter replied, and while gesturing between the two of them, “we’ve got a follow-the-leader kind of deal going on.”

“You don’t follow me, though. You don’t do anything that I tell you,” Tony pointed out.

“That’s not true,” Peter denied, shaking his head.

“Yes, it-” Tony held up his hand. “Let’s not get into this right now.”

Peter nodded approvingly. “I agree. See? Following your lead.”

“Only because it suits you. You only follow my lead when it coincides with what you already want,” Tony accused.

“I thought you said we weren’t getting into this?” Peter asked, pouting at him. “Shouldn’t you be going easy on me, too? Since you made me cry earlier?”

“Peter,” Tony sighed, “you and I both know you don’t hang out with me because I go easy on you.”

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” Peter said as he stood up, stretching his arms and wings out.

Speaking of, “So, uh, just to make sure we’re on the same page: you believe me about your wings, right?”

Peter froze, and his wings slowly folded behind his back. He didn’t turn to face Tony. “Yeah, I do. But you know I won’t be mad if you are disappointed, right?”

Tony slowly stood and moved to cover Peter with his wing. “There’s nothing for me to be disappointed at, okay?”

“But Jarvis was a Raven?” Peter peered up at Tony. “And I’m a Crow.”

Tony couldn’t stop himself from chuckling under his breath. “I’m pretty sure Jarvis would have my head if I got disappointed over someone’s wings.”

“Still.” Peter blinked up at him. “You can tell me.”

“Peter, I’m not disappointed,” Tony insisted. “Yes, Jarvis who was very important to me was a Raven,” he admitted. “And Peter, who is also very important to me, is a Crow.”

Peter scrutinized his face. “Okay.”

Tony nervously rocked back and forth on his heels. “So…how’s about I finish preening your wings-”

Peter narrowed his eyes at him. “If by finish, you mean start.”

“-while you play with this.” Tony dug the new watch out of his pocket, flashing it at Peter.

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Oh, did you finish the watch gauntlet thing?”

“Yeah, but the gauntlet part is currently inactive,” Tony supplied, “I didn’t think it’d be smart to give you a weapon while you were still pissed at me.”

Peter scoffed and it took a minute for him to take his eyes off the watch. “As if I’d ever actually hurt you.”

“You literally threatened me,” Tony reminded.

Peter shook his head. “No, I didn’t,” he denied with a soft and innocent voice.

“Don’t gaslight me, Peter, I’ll start to believe it,” he joked as he handed the watch to Peter.

“You’re crazy,” Peter said with a teasing grin and flapping wings as he snatched the watch.

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair. “Yeah, yeah. So, am I preening you or what?”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter answered distractedly, playing with the watch and not moving.

After a moment of Peter not moving, just standing and messing with the gold watch, Tony decided to start coaxing his kid back into the preening room.

Peter easily took his spot, his wings spreading as soon as he got comfortable.

“Ready, Pete?” Tony asked, hands hovering over Peter’s wings.

Peter hummed and flapped his wings. “Yep.”

Crows' wings weren’t too different from Ravens' wings, Tony knew this. The wings were smaller, feathers smaller, and less shiny— but the practice was still the same.

Plucking out any feathers that needed to go, smoothing and straightening any out of place, and carefully oiling each and every feather. It was a time-consuming but relaxing ritual.

By the time Tony finished with Peter’s left wing, he could hear his kid quietly snoring. Since Peter was already asleep, Tony took his time finishing his right wing. He took the time to familiarize himself with Peter’s wings.

Peter hadn’t been lying; there was a scar near the base of his wing, and if Tony had seen that without warning, he probably would have freaked out.

After committing as many details of his wings to memory as Tony could, he began the clean-up process— collecting the plucked feathers, returning the oils, and washing excess oil off his hands.

Unsurprisingly, Peter didn’t so much as stir as Tony cleaned up; a testament to how exhausted and drained his kid had been. It left Tony with two options: let Peter sleep here, or move Peter to somewhere more comfortable. Because Tony was most certainly not waking his kid up.

After two seconds of contemplating, Tony was nudging Peter until he could comfortably lift Peter into his arms.

“Wha-” Peter sleepily asked, instinctively wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck as if he was afraid the man was going to drop him.

“It’s just me,” Tony comforted, “go back to sleep.”

Peter murmured something before nuzzling closer to Tony and going back to snoozing.

“I’ve got to get more weight on you,” Tony made a mental reminder to up however many calories Peter was getting.

Getting Peter to his room was easy, and gently setting Peter down on his mattress was relatively easy— prying Peter off of him was not.

“Uh, Peter?” Tony whispered.

“Hmmm.”

“Are you going to unstick from me?” Tony pulled at Peter’s arms, wincing as his skin went with Peter’s hands.

Peter’s only answer was a snore.

“Looks like I’ll be spending the next few hours as my kid’s stuffed animal.” Tony sighed as he shifted to rest comfortably on the bed next to Peter.

In the end, Tony tucked his wings away to lay on his back and let Peter sprawl on top of his chest, his wings relaxed and partially spread.

Without meaning to, Tony passed out with his hand still buried in Peter’s feathers.

-

“What’s going on?” Clint asked for the third time since he’d arrived in the common area.

“I will explain when everyone is here, Clint. I’ve said that no less than five times,” Tony reminded, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Natasha was filing her nails. Sam was typing a message on his phone. Bruce was beginning to doze off. And Steve and Bucky were finally walking in.

“Sorry that we’re late!” Steve apologized for both of them.

Bucky didn’t look very sorry.

“Yeah, whatever. Just hurry up and get comfortable, or don’t.” Tony clapped his hands to get their attention, his wings raising and flashing. “Okay! Quick announcement before my kid comes in.”

“Oh, you finally realized?” Natasha asked, her wings perking up behind her.

“Are we celebrating you guys officially becoming father-son?” Clint asked. “Is that what’s going on?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “No! So, as you know, Peter’s been very secretive with his wings.”

“He’s a traditionalist,” Bruce supplied, “of course, he was secretive.”

“Really?” Clint turned to Bruce. “I thought that maybe his wings were even smaller than Stark’s, and so he was embarrassed.”

“Clint,” Steve started in a warning tone.

“It’s alright, Steve. I don’t care.” Tony shrugged. “I’m not the one walking around in denial of what bird I actually resemble.”

Natasha smothered a laugh into her hand, her wings twitching.

“I’m out of here,” Clint grumbled as he stood, but his wings made no motions of being actually irritated.

“Wait! Wait, there is something important.” Tony held up his hands. “FRIDAY, where’s Peter?”

“Peter and Happy stopped to get burgers before arriving. You have ten minutes until they arrive,” FRIDAY answered.

Tony took a breath. “Today, Peter is going to reveal his wings to you guys.”

That got their attention.

“Is he sure?” Steve asked, his own wings, which usually stayed folded against his back or tucked away, fluttered.

“To all of us?” Bucky asked. “Or just some of us?”

“All of you,” Tony insisted. “We went down the line, and you all made the cut. Congratulations.”

Natasha’s wings flapped. “I wonder what he’ll be.”

“Maybe a Parrot. What with how chatty he is,” Sam snickered.

“Does Peter know you’re having this conversation with us?” Bruce questioned, pushing up his glasses.

Tony didn’t dignify that with an answer. “Look. I can’t tell you what type of wings he has, but I will ask that you guys say something nice about them.”

The Avengers shared an odd look.

“I don’t think anyone here was planning on saying anything mean about them,” Steve said first, after a beat of silence.

“Jeez, Stark. How little do you think of us?” Bucky raised a brow.

“It’s not that I think little of you guys!” Tony hurried to defend himself. “I just might’ve put my foot in my mouth the first time I preened him, and— you know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you guys! Just make sure to tell him that his wings are pretty or whatever.”

Natasha was the first to accept. “Alright. Compliment his wings. Rebuild his confidence, got it. Sound good, everyone?”

They were brave enough to talk back to Tony, but not quite brave enough to talk back to Natasha.

.

Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “Nervous?”

Peter made a so-so motion. “A little.” His grip tightened on his bag straps.

“They’re going to love them,” Tony reassured. “And if they don’t, then they can pack their shit and get out.”

Peter’s brows shot up. “Tony!”

Tony laughed Peter’s worry off. “I’m kidding,” he lied, his wing wrapping around Peter.

Peter let out a breath. “I don’t think that you were, but we can pretend.”

The elevator doors opened, and revealed the Avengers pretending to have casually gathered in one place.

“Oh, wow. You guys are all in the same room already,” Peter remarked, turning to give Tony a pointed look, “as if someone already came in here with an announcement.”

“We were just discussing what movie we should watch tonight,” Natasha lied, “new team bonding activity.”

Peter blinked at her before sighing. “Well, as I’m sure Tony already announced, I’m going to reveal my wings.”

“Woo!” Clint cheered, clapping over enthusiastically. “The moment we’ve all been waiting for!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, cool it, Katniss.”

Peter ignored them and took a deep breath before releasing his wings.

Natasha hummed approvingly. “What are you? A Crow or Raven, it’s hard to tell over here.”

Peter smiled and stretched his wings out just a bit. “I’m a Crow.”

Steve was the next person to speak. “They’re beautiful, Peter,” he complimented with a warm smile. “I used to fill sketchbooks with drawings of Crows back in the day.”

Bucky nodded. “I used to have to drag him home when it was cold outside, or when he thought it’d be a good idea to go out when he could barely breathe.”

Steve stepped on Bucky’s foot, his wing lifting just enough to knock into Bucky. “Thank you for sharing with us. It must have been daunting, so thank you for trusting us. I know it must not have been easy.”

Peter returned the smile, looking bashful. “Well, it kind of helped that you’re a Vulture.”

“What?” Tony looked at Peter, then at Steve’s wings, then at Steve’s face, and how he wasn’t correcting Peter. “I thought you were an Eagle?”

Steve slowly shook his head. “No, I’m a Vulture. Did I not tell you?” He asked.

“No!” Tony shook his head. “This whole time I thought you were an Eagle! Captain America!”

Bucky snorted. “Don’t tell me you also thought his birthday was on the Fourth of July.”

Tony glared at Bucky. “Peter, kill him. Attack. Go get him.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes, but did shift a little more behind Steve.

“There needs to be at least two more Crows for a murder, Tony,” Peter dismissed with a wave of his hand, his wings fluttering behind him.

“I bet you’re happy to have another Corvid on the team, huh?” Clint asked Natasha, gently elbowing her.

“What?!” Tony couldn’t believe this. “I thought she was a Dove!”

This time, even Peter gave him a look. Less accusing, and more of genuine concern. “What? She doesn’t even look like a Dove!”

“She never corrected me,” Tony complained, his wings raised up defensively.

Natasha folded her arms over her chest, her wings snapping behind her. “It was such a stupid guess that I didn’t want to dignify it with an answer.”

“So, what are you?” Tony asked, resisting the urge to grab Peter by the collar and drag him back under his wing.

“I’m a Jackdaw,” Natasha answered, spreading just one wing to show him.

Tony groaned. “Oh, God. Please, don’t tell me Clint’s actually a Hawk.”

“It’s true-” Clint started.

“No, he’s a Falcon,” Natasha confirmed.

“A small one,” Sam piped up, his wings flashing pointedly.

“You know, technically, I’m on the smaller side for a Vulture so,” Steve tried.

“Shut the fuck up, Steve,” Tony snapped, his wings bristling. “No one here wants to hear about it, Mr. 15-feet wingspan. “

“Your feathers look wonderful, Peter. Very healthy,” Natasha praised, her hand reaching out to stroke the feathers. “May I?”

Peter smiled and took a step back behind Tony. “Thank you for the compliment, but uh…”

“Oh, right.” Natasha lowered her hand. “I forgot. Traditionalists only let close family touch their wings. Significant others, siblings, and-” She caught Tony’s eyes, “-parents.”

Peter coughed. “Well, um, yep! Sorry to disappoint.”

Natasha smiled at him. “Don’t be. Never be afraid to set boundaries, Peter.”

Peter said something else, but Tony didn’t catch it.

Traditionalists only let close family touch their wings…parents.

“What’s got you so elated, Stark?” Bucky asked, suddenly appearing at his side. “Usually, you get all pissy when Steve and Peter get close.”

Tony just smiled at him, watching the way Peter’s wings were firmly folded out of Steve’s reach. “Because I’m secure in my position as his favorite.”

Bucky gave him an odd look before shrugging. “Whatever you say.”

When Peter caught Tony staring at him, he just beamed and waved his wings at him.

Yeah, Tony was definitely Peter’s favorite.

-

“Spider-Man! Spider-Man!” A woman yelled to get his attention, her phone held up already recording as she barreled through the small crowd of kids gathering around the masked hero.

“Ma’am?” Spider-Man put his hands out as if to settle her. “Is everything alright?”

“Why do you never show your wings?” She demanded, as if she somehow had the right to that information. “The people would like to know why you hide them; don’t they deserve to know what kind of wings are protecting this city?”

The lenses of his mask narrowed, and he began moving away from the group of kids. “Ma’am, do you need anything?”

The woman followed him. “It’s understandable not to show your face, but not even your wings? Are you hiding something?” Her tone switched from just demanding to accusatory.

“Many would disagree,” Spider-Man said, addressing only the first question. “In fact, they’d argue the opposite.”

“You’ve made your stance on revealing your identity clear, Spider-Man. Yet you refuse to comment on your wings. Why is that?”

“Because I don’t have to, just like I don’t have to entertain this conversation anymore.” Spider-Man shot a web. “See ya, lady.” Then, louder, “Sorry, kids!”

A chorus of ‘aw’s and’ bye Spidey’s erupted from the small group of kids.

It didn’t take long for the video to get popular. Not quite viral, because it wasn’t more interesting than videographic proof of Tony and Steve being secret lovers (because they stood an inch too close) .

Tony only saw it because he had FRIDAY programmed to flag any videos of Spider-Man. Partly to make sure no one was trying to reveal his identity, but mostly so that he could watch his kid either be cute or make a fool of himself.

The video explained Peter’s odd behavior recently; more closed off, more weary, and just…not his usual self at all. Tony didn’t like it at all.

“Peter?” Tony knocked on the door of his room.

“Yeah?” Peter said, sounding almost normal but more tired than usual.

Tony pushed open the door and leaned on the frame. “Brooding all by yourself?”

“I’m not brooding,” Peter muttered, before going back to hunching over his desk, scribbling something on paper. His wings were drooped behind him, twitching every now and then.

Tony watched him for a moment before waltzing into the room and plopping onto the bed. “What’re you getting up to, then? Hopefully not homework during a break.”

“No.” Peter didn’t look at him. “I’m journaling.”

Tony’s brows went up, and his wings flapped behind him. “Journaling?” Tony looked to the side of the desk, eyeing the paper shredder. “Is that why you stole my paper shredder? The one for the disposal of confidential documents?”

“I’ll return it,” Peter’s wings twitched behind him. “Besides, you’re not using it right now.”

“Are you?” Tony asked.

Peter spun in his chair to face Tony. “When I’m done with a page, I rip it out and shred it.” To demonstrate, Peter flashed Tony the scribbled full page, and then inserted it into the shredder. “I get to express my feelings without the fear of someone else seeing.”

Tony blinked at him. “So…you are brooding?”

Peter scowled at him, his feathers ruffling.

Tony laughed and held up his hands in a placating motion, his wings lowering behind him. “I’m just giving you a hard time, kid.”

Peter rolled his eyes and swiveled back to the desk. “When aren’t you?”

“I resent that.” Tony walked over to the desk, but pointedly did not look at what Peter was scribbling.

It was a testament to how much Peter trusted him that he made no moves to cover his notebook as he kept scribbling.

“What’re you writing about?” Tony asked, even though he already had an idea.

Peter huffed. “You’re not going to take a guess? Ask if I’m writing a love letter to someone I saw in the crosswalk on my way to robbing a bank?”

Tony shook his head. “Not quite, kid. See, the thing about my guesses is that they’re entirely plausible.”

“Mine is plausible,” Peter defended, looking up with a pout and flapping wings.

“You? Robbing a bank?” Tony repeated incredulously, his right wing stretched out to brush against Peter’s. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“I could rob a bank!” Peter insisted.

“Sure, you could. But would you?” Tony allowed for a small pause for dramatic effect before shaking his head. “No.”

Peter pouted harder before turning back to his desk, except when he picked up the pen he didn’t resume writing. Instead, he returned the pen to the mug on his desk— World’s Best Intern Kid.

It’d been a gift from Tony, he’d figured the print would fade in time, the more Peter used it, until eventually it was just a plain white mug. But instead of tucking it into a cabinet, he’d placed it on his desk so that he’d always be able to appreciate it.

Peter stared at his paper, and Tony stared at Peter. Just watching him. Watching as the kid’s face slipped into something more considering.

“You know, some people say that wings are like physical manifestations of a person’s soul, or their true feelings— there’s a lot of different sayings and wordings.”

“Yeah, I did.” Tony eyed the perfect black feathers of Peter’s wings.

“It was never about the color,” Peter said, still staring at his paper and not meeting Tony’s gaze. His wings twitched. “Even though that’s how it’s being interpreted as now, and for the last few decades.”

Tony tilted his head. “Really?” He said to prompt Peter into continuing.

“Your wings say a lot about how you’re feeling, whether you realize it or not. Raising when you’re tense for whatever reason, drooping when you’re sad, ruffling when you’re uncomfortable, twitching when you’re anxious, bristling or snapping open when you’re angry, and more.”

“True.” Even with all of his practice in keeping them in a faux-relaxed state, there had been plenty of times when he lost control over the years.

“That’s why traditionalists don’t just show their wings to everyone.” Peter bit his lip. “Nobody has the right to see my wings.” Peter’s wings fluffed up. “I don’t care what anyone else says; it’s my choice who I show my wings to. It’s mine and mine alone,” his voice shook as he spoke.

Tony watched as Peter blinked rapidly. “Oh, Peter.” He made a move to squeeze his shoulder before choosing to run his hand down Peter’s wing.

Peter’s wing pushed into his hand. “I don’t care what anyone else says. I don’t owe anyone a damn thing— not when it comes to my wings.”

“You’re right,” Tony agreed, still smoothing his hand down Peter’s feathers. “I’m sorry for pushing you that day.”

Peter turned to face him, looking so sad. “Tony, I didn’t-”

“I know,” Tony gently interrupted, “I know. But I need to say it again. I need you to know that it wasn’t fair of me, and if I could do it over again, I would have just shut my mouth when you said you weren’t ready.”

Peter sniffled and averted his gaze. “It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you or that I wasn’t ready. Not about the act of showing my wings, at least.”

Tony felt his brows furrow. “But you said-”

“I was more worried about how you would react if and when you found out what it meant for me to show you my wings.” Peter scrubbed his face with his hand. “And I knew that if I showed you my wings, then you’d want to touch them and…I knew that I’d want that, too.”

Natasha’s words echoed in his mind, reminding him of the significance.

Tony didn’t risk saying it, though, didn’t risk verbally coming to that conclusion— just in case.

“I knew that I couldn’t show you my wings until I was sure that you felt the same,” Peter admitted, picking at a loose thread of his sweatpants. “And I’m kind of glad that the lab incident happened, because that’s when I started to realize that maybe you did feel the same; that you cared for me similar to how I care for you.”

Tony’s wings flapped behind him, and he wanted nothing more than to tuck Peter under his wings. “Of course, Pete. You’re my kid,” Tony forced himself to admit, because he didn’t want a single shred of doubt in Peter’s mind.

Peter’s chewed his lip for a moment. “I can’t say it, but I-”

Tony understood in the same way that he’d hoped Jarvis did.

He reached forward to squeeze Peter’s shoulder. “I know, buddy.”

Peter’s wings unfolded and reached out to brush against his; his wings were big enough to close the gap, unlike Tony’s.

“Besides, I’m more of an actions speak louder than words kind of guy,” Tony admitted in a lighter tone, brushing his hand through Peter’s feathers. “I say it all works out, yeah? Match made in Heaven and all that nonsense, right?”

Peter’s grin was wobbly. “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony raised a brow. “I didn’t do anything, but I’m sure I deserve it anyway.”

Usually, Peter would shake his head at Tony’s antics; this time, he just kept beaming at him.

“Get over here, brat,” Tony commanded, hauling Peter out of the chair and into his arms. “Can’t believe you’ve made me go soft. I oughta sue you for this.”

“You’d only get two mints and a paperclip out of it,” Peter said with a wobbly voice as he tucked his face against Tony’s neck, folding his wings back to let Tony’s wrap around him as best they could.

“I thought you couldn’t have mint,” Tony reminded, remembering Peter’s words in the car that one morning.

Peter sniffled. “That’s why I haven’t eaten them. Hence two mints and a paperclip.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to throw the mints if you can’t even have them? Why carry them around?”

“Because you like mint,” Peter answered easily, as if he didn’t need to think about it.

“Looks like I’ll be seeing you in court, after all.”