Chapter Text
Sure. In retrospect he was being a bit dramatic, and maybe scaring everyone in the tower for someone eating his leftovers wasn’t the smartest thing to do. But as J. Jonah. Jameson said on the daily, Spider-Man was a menace. And Peter Parker was a food aggressive bitch who holds a grudge.
Spending his developmental years in a one income household with a metabolically enhanced teenage boy led to cutting corners, going to sleep hungry, living in clothes from the clearance aisle of the thrift shop. And by god you’re gonna get your money's worth of wears.
It was easier once Tony found a stable role in his life, they kept it hidden from him for as long they could. May, ashamed of her inability to support them both on her own, broke down after finding out Peter had grown malnourished from the lack of proper meals. As for what was bare minimum for a normal person, would’ve been the death of him if Tony hadn’t caught it early.
She’d finally accepted support after that, and groceries started showing up at their doorstep biweekly. Tony had even gone the extra mile and decided to set up a room for Peter in the tower, allowing May a chance to have some space and rekindle friendships she’d dropped because parenting and extra shifts took up too much of her time.
It was a great setup for everyone involved, but old habits refuse to die, and Peter still got defensive anytime someone tried to snag a fry off his plate or toss perfectly fine leftovers (to his healing factors standards) in the trash.
So yes. He was absolutely livid when he came home from a rough school day, starving from the mediocre lunch he barely had any time to eat. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his (eighth) backpack haphazardly in the corner. Mouth watering already at the mere concept of the leftover chicken curry in the fridge, Ms Potts’ cooking was to die for. Genuinely he’d wage wars for anything she makes.
…Where the hell did it go?
Peter was sure the slam of the refrigerator door closing was loud enough to be heard three floors down, oops.
“Friday- Friday, sweetheart, Tony’s wonderful, amazing, spectacular AI. Please tell me i’m looking in the wrong place, that someone moved my curry to a different fridge.” He begged, tone laced with the little hope he had left for humanity as he ignored the hand-shaped dents in the fridge handles.
“I regret to inform you, Natasha ate it.” Peter clenched his fists, knuckles going white as he felt the pure spiteful rage bubble up in his chest. “…Pietro and Wanda also found your stash of energy drinks”
“This is it. This is the start of my villain origin story.” He muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples like he was trying to restart his brain. He almost considered opening the fridge again and hoping that by some twisted luck his curry would reappear.
“Friday, please tell Tony to meet me in my room, and that if he isn’t there in the next five minutes I’m going to scrap his suits for parts.” Peter hissed, genuinely hissed as he rushed off to his private quarters. Plan already taking root in his mind. He forced the door closed harder than he probably should've, he was lucky it was reinforced as he looked up at the tall ceilings.
The upper half of the room was almost completely covered with layers and layers of his natural webs, the only person he’d given express permission to go up there was Aunt May. Though that was partially because he knew she wouldn’t be interested—
— Anyway, he’s rambling, though if Tony asked he’d probably allow him up there too actually- But anyway, sure enough, there was a hole in the bottom and middle layer of the web. Right where his stash was… and y'know, Peter prided himself on being fairly in control of his spidery instincts, it was a big adjustment, but he figured it out.
But right now, in this very moment he could taste the bitter venom secreting from his hollowed fangs. He wanted them dead.
His head snapped to the door the second Mr Stark stepped up to it.
“Come in.” he said before the man even had a chance to knock, not bothering to pretend he didn’t feel when the elevator doors had opened
The door pushed open and closed with a click as the billionaire entered the room, footsteps loud in the eerie silence.
"Alright Peter, what's so important that you felt the need to threaten the Iron Man?" He hummed, smooth voice laced with a hint of humor.
"I'm gonna kill them." He blurted out in a harsh tone so very used by the usually sweet, albeit mischievous, teen. The lower register rumbling in his chest as he turned to face the older man, who's eyebrows had shot up in a rare expression of genuine concern.
"...Lets not?" He drawled, squinting in a mix of confusion and concern.
Peter leveled him with a very un-amused glare, fingers twitching in a barely restrained urge to punch the nearest reinforced wall.
"Okay, not the time, i get it. What happened and who do you want dead?" He rephrased, placing a hand on Peters shoulder and leading him over to the plush mattress. Taking a seat at the edge of his bed, hand running across the Spider-Man comforter the older man had bought ironically for the teen.
"Natasha, Pietro, and Wanda." He hissed, hands falling clasped together in his lap. "Ms Romanoff, took my leftovers from the fridge."
"Eugh, yikes." Tony's face scrunched in remorse. "You'd think they'd know better after you tossed a plate at Clint's head over a slice of banana bread." The memory made Peter snort out a laugh, muttering out an amused "you'd really think."
"And Wanda and Pietro, Friday said they'd stolen my stash of energy drinks--" Tony cut in. "Peter! you're not allowed energy drinks, remember? Aunt May almost had my head last time you OD'd on monsters."
"I know but i was behind in my classes Mr. Stark, I had to catch up somehow!" Tony mumbled something about responsibility, Peter chose not to listen.
"Anyway. During their little heist" He bit "They'd split my web, and I- Mr. Stark, I really want to bite them." He watched as Tony gazed up at the spider web up that takes up the entirety of the upper part of the room, he rubbed his hand across Peters back soothingly as he seemed to think for a moment.
"Okay." He said cautiously, a rare moment of consideration Peter tacked up to the fact he was very much a loose canon right now. "I'll get you a mini-fridge for your room to put your leftovers in. I'll make you a different lock for your door, maybe two- No, three factor authentication?" he questioned nobody in particular.
"And you, Peter, are going to enact Non-Lethal revenge on the people who've wronged you." Tony smirked at the boy, patting his shoulder as he got up. "You have my express permission to put them in their place. Remember: No lawsuits, no problems."
"Wait-- Tony, really?!" He lit up, watching as Mr. Stark made his way over to his bedroom door. Excitement building in his chest as he started thinking of the pure potential.
"Yeah Pete, the Avengers don't like to listen to words. They need to be reminded of their status or they'll get out of hand."
"You included?" Peter quipped out of reflex.
"Brat." Tony stated as he left the room. Leaving a territorial half-arachnid with enough teenage angst to power a continent on his own, to make up an evil scheme.
"Ms Friday? Call MJ for me please, and pull up an interactive holo-screen of the tower at my desk in Tony's lab."