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Tony and Peter did not talk about Spider-Man.

It wasn’t a rule, per se. They hadn’t specifically talked about the fact that they didn’t talk about it.

They just… didn’t. Tony had brought up Spider-Man one time since their first disastrous meeting, and Peter had shut down almost instantly.

Thus, they didn’t talk about it.

The first time Peter brought his suit to Tony to repair was a couple of months into their Wednesday afternoon routine.

Peter had come over after school just like he always did, but he seemed… off.

“What’s with the face?” Tony asked when Peter hesitated in the doorway to the workshop, just frowning at the room.

With a deep frown, Peter dragged himself into the room and slipped his backpack off. Tony waited patiently while Peter dug through his bag, and then pulled out…

His suit.

Tony perked up, but stayed quiet while Peter crossed the room to him. Then, he gently took the suit when Peter held it out.

“Got a rip in it,” Peter mumbled, crossing his arms and looking away.

“Oh, easy fix,” Tony said. “Let me show you.” He walked over to his carbon fiber printer, which he’d built specifically for Peter’s suit, and sat down. He found where on the suit the rip was and pinned the suit down.

Peter watched attentively as Tony pulled the suit diagram up on the interface, then set the printer to create a new patch over the damage. But he did not ask a single question, nor make any noise.

Tony wanted to know how Peter got the rip. What he was doing, but…

If Peter wasn’t going to volunteer the information…

“It’ll take it about an hour to work,” Tony said, once it was going. “Want to keep working on your robot while we wait?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, almost in an exhale as his shoulders dropped. “I was thinking, maybe we should make it fly.”

“I’m always a fan of things that fly,” Tony said, as he followed the kid over to their workstation.

They didn’t speak another word about the suit, and once the repair was done, Peter quietly packed it away in his backpack. Tony wanted to tell him to let him know if it didn’t work. If it needed more work.

But… the relaxed smile Peter shot him when he left for the evening was worth not pushing.

-

The next time Peter got a rip in his suit, he went right to the printer himself and laid the suit out.

Tony was stuck in a boring-as-hell conference call with the R&D team out in California, so he pretended not to be paying much attention to what Peter was doing.

But he couldn’t help it. He did see which part of the suit Peter pinned down, and which part of the schematic he pulled up to have patched.

It was the exact same spot as last time.

Tony hit mute on his phone and said, “Kid, is that ripping because it needs to be stretchier, or is it being ripped by an outside force?”

Peter’s shoulders went to his ears instantly. He turned and looked at Tony with a wide-eyed, panicked expression.

Tony felt his heart skip a beat.

“Are you going to tell May my answer?” Peter asked before Tony could figure out how to de-escalate.

“Uh,” Tony stammered. “I mean, I don’t think I’m allowed to keep secrets from her.”

Peter blinked, then turned his back to Tony. “Then it’s none of your business.”

Tony sighed loudly. “If it’s because it needs to be stretchier, decrease the carbon fiber content in the patch by 5%. If it needs to be reinforced, increase it by 10% and try that out.”

The kid didn’t respond, but Tony did watch him increase the carbon fiber content.

Which meant the kid was probably playing with knives. Messing with knives. And Tony probably needed to do something about that…

Maybe he could ask May if he could have her permission to let Peter and him have secrets from her, if only it means Peter will tell him the secrets.

Tony would rather they have a secret from May than Peter keep it to himself. And then get hurt all by himself without anyone knowing.

-

May approved with a long-suffering sigh when Tony called her the next morning.

“He just doesn’t want you to worry, I think,” Tony said. “Meanwhile, he just doesn’t care if I worry. Or doesn’t believe I will, not sure which.”

“He adores you, Tony,” May said. “I know he doesn’t act like it, but he does. He just doesn’t feel the need to protect you the way he tries to protect me.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Tony said. “I won’t keep anything life-endangering from you, but the little things… I’d rather he be telling one of us, if he’s not willing to tell both of us.”

“I agree with that,” May said. “But try and get him to tell me, too.”

“Of course,” Tony said.

Now Tony just had to convince the kid to tell him.

-

The next time Peter had a rip in his suit, it was in a different spot.

“Are you getting stabbed?” Tony asked, after Peter pressed start on a new patch, with a higher carbon fiber content, again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter said, leaning over the printer to watch the machine work.

Tony sighed. “I won’t tell May, if that’s your concern.”

“You said you can’t keep secrets from her,” Peter shot back.

“Well, I got her permission to keep secrets from her,” Tony said with a shrug.

Peter turned around and shot Tony the most exaggerated incredulous look.

“What?” Tony said. “I did! We talked about it for ten minutes. I can show you my call log if you want.”

“You’re so weird,” Peter huffed, but he turned back to the printer’s interface and started looking over the rest of the suit’s schematics. “I’m not getting stabbed.”

“That’s good,” Tony said slowly.

Peter hesitated for a long moment, then finally admitted, “I’m getting stabbed adjacent.”

Tony huffed out a dry laugh. “Well, if you ever get fully stabbed, can you promise to call me? In the moment?”

“Why?” Peter asked skeptically, not even turning around.

“What do you mean, why?” Tony huffed. “If my son gets stabbed, I would like to help him get unstabbed.”

Peter laughed, then repeated in a delighted tone, “Unstabbed.”

“I’d like to stab the guy that stabs my son back, actually,” Tony said.

“Well, that’s rude,” Peter said. “What if it’s an accident? You know, they’re just scared, and it’s a reflex? That happens, you know.”

“Kid, do not tell me you believe that.”

Peter turned back around and grinned. Bright and happy.

It made Tony’s chest relax.

“You know, I heal really fast, right?” Peter said, as he bounced over to their shared workstation to keep working on the now-flying robot they were building together.

“How fast?” Tony asked. Because he had not known that.

It kind of explained a lot, though. Like why Peter never seemed injured, never had bruises, even when Tony knew he’d been pretty roughed up the night before.

Peter shrugged. “Fast enough. If it doesn’t hit anything vital, it’s not really a big deal.” He gestured back at the suit. “That was like a paper cut to me. Nothing.”

“Hmmm,” Tony hummed, just giving Peter a scrutinizing look. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“If I get stabbed stabbed, I’ll call you,” Peter said with a grin. “Well… Karen will call you. I don’t think I would be able to convince her otherwise, anyway. She’s always like, ‘Peter, shouldn’t we call Tony? I think we should call Tony,’ and I’m always like, ‘No Karen, I’ve got this!’ and I do always have it. It’s fine.”

A lot of thoughts shot through Tony’s head at that.

The first being he needed to dig into Karen’s coding and see why she was allowing Peter to talk her out of calling him.

But the next was the fact he needed to chill out.

Peter didn’t talk to him about this kind of stuff. And Tony was not going to push it.

“Just,” Tony said, haltingly. “Just please call me if you get hurt worse than, like a paper cut. I don’t want you to die out there, alright?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “I won’t. I mean, I will call you. I won’t die.”

“Okay,” Tony said with a final nod. “Now what are we adding to the robot today?”

With a wide grin, Peter said, “Magnets.”

“Sure, why not.”

- - -

They didn’t talk about anything spider-related for months after that.

Rhodey gave Tony shit for it. He tried his best to convince Tony he was being irresponsible by ignoring this huge part of Peter’s life, but Tony wasn’t willing to sacrifice the delicate truce they had going.

Peter was spending the night now, three nights a week. Any time May was at work, Peter was at Tony’s, and Tony was loving it.

They even went on a weekend trip together over Peter’s fall break, and then when Thanksgiving came along, May had to work.

So Peter spent the entire holiday with Tony. He felt bad about how happy he was to not have to share him with May. Especially since Peter did miss May whenever she wasn’t around.

But since May worked through Thanksgiving break, she was able to take Christmas break off. So all four of them packed up and flew out to Colorado for a nice week-long vacation, skiing.

Tony had wanted to go to Switzerland, but Peter didn’t have a passport, and May didn’t want to leave the country in general.

So, Aspen it was.

The first day of their trip, Pepper and May went off on their own for a “girls' day” at a nearby spa, leaving Tony and Peter alone to go skiing. Which really meant Tony had to go with Peter to a skiing class, since Peter had never been before.

It was… a lot of fun. A lot.

No one knew who Tony was, since he had so much winter gear on. It was fun just being some dude with his son, taking a beginner skier class.

Even if Peter was being a little shit.

“If you french fry when you’re supposed to pizza, you’re gonna have a bad time,” Peter said, suppressing a giggle at the end of their instruction time.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I swear to God I’m going to ban South Park if you keep this up.”

“Come on, let’s go to the first slope,” Peter said, grabbing onto Tony’s arm.

They made their way over to the lift, and it wasn’t until they were up in the air did Tony even notice.

But Peter was shivering. A lot.

“Kid, are you cold?” he asked.

“A li-little,” Peter said, his teeth chattering. “The wind up here is b-brutal.”

Tony furrowed his brow because it really wasn’t. It was maybe 15 degrees up there. “You’ve got long johns on, right?”

“Ye-eah,” Peter chattered. “Two layers. May and I w-went to that hunting store and got th-the super warm ones.”

“Why are you so cold then?” Tony asked. He reached into his pockets and pulled out the activated hand warmers he’d stuck in there, just in case he needed to shove them in his gloves later. He was fine. A little warm, even, with all the layers he had on. He held the two hand warmers out, and Peter eagerly took them, then pulled his arm inside his coat sleeve.

Tony just watched as he, presumably, tucked the warmers into his long johns.

“That helping at all?” Tony asked.

“A little,” Peter said.

Once they reached the top, all worry about the cold vanished, as the two of them went down their first slope of the day.

“French Fry,” Peter called out as he zoomed right down the slope.

Tony rolled his eyes fondly. Peter was, of course, a natural at skiing. His agility meant he maneuvered around others expertly, even while going as fast as he was. He came to a graceful stop at the bottom, and grinned up at Tony, who was taking his time getting down there.

“My bones won’t heal overnight if I screw up,” Tony said, once he finally reached Peter.

“Yeah s-sure,” Peter said. “Th-at’s your ex-excuse.”

“Aright,” Tony said, stepping forward and taking a good look at the very little exposed skin on Peter’s face.

It was bright red.

And his teeth were chattering constantly.

“We need to get something warm in you.”

Peter nodded eagerly. “I’m fr-freezing.”

“I can tell,” Tony said. They made their way across the clearing and to the ski lodge, where Tony parked Peter right in front of the fire.

Peter took his gloves and helmet off, but left the hat on.

He was still shivering.

“I’m going to get you some hot chocolate. Do not leave this spot. Soak that heat up.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Peter said, saluting sarcastically at him.

Tony rolled his eyes, but walked over to the little cafe counter and ordered a large hot chocolate and a coffee for himself.

When Tony got back to Peter, a good five minutes later, the kid was still shivering. Even though he still had on all his outerwear and was sitting directly in front of the fire.

“Kid, what’s going on?” Tony asked, holding the hot chocolate out to him. “Are you sick?”

“No, I’m just cold,” Peter stuttered out, as another shiver ran through him.

Tony put a hand on Peter’s head to see if that was true. He pushed his winter hat up off his forehead to do so, and nearly froze himself.

Because Peter’s head was cold.

Like, alarmingly cold.

A living person should never feel that cold.

“Holy shit, kid,” Tony said, as he moved his hand to the side of Peter’s face. “You’re freezing cold.”

Peter pulled away from Tony, batting his hand away. “I know. I just told you that.”

“No, I mean, you’re cold to the touch. Are your clothes wet? What’s going on?”

Gripping his cup with both hands, Peter took a long sip of the hot chocolate, then said, “No. I just get cold easily.”

“This is way more than that,” Tony said, touching Peter’s head again. “This is—this is dangerous. Holy shit, okay, hang on. Don’t move.” Tony turned on his heels and walked over to the help desk. “Do you have a thermometer? I want to check my son’s temp. I think he’s too cold.”

“Yeah, of course,” the woman behind the desk said. “I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared through a door behind her, and a moment later, came back with a man in a shirt that said ‘ski patrol,’ holding an infrared thermometer.

“Where’s your son at?” he asked.

Tony led the man over to Peter, who absolutely scowled at Tony when he saw the ski patrol man.

“Hey there,” the guy said. “My name’s Doug. Your dad said you’re cold?”

“I’m fine,” Peter said. “Dad’s just crazy.”

“His skin is freezing cold to the touch,” Tony said. “I just wanted to know what his temp was.”

Doug turned the thermometer on, then pointed it right at Peter’s forehead.

“Whoa,” he said after a second. “93.4. Were you just outside without a hat on?”

“No, he had that wool hat on the entire time,” Tony said, “and he hasn’t taken it off yet. I only just moved it off his forehead a minute ago.”

“Okay, hang on, let’s get you back to first aid for a more accurate reading,” Doug said. “These things are only good for ballpark readings.”

“Dad,” Peter pleaded, giving Tony his signature puppy-dog eyes. “Please don’t make me.”

“Pete,” Tony said helplessly. “Under 95 is hypothermia. We gotta check this out. If you got this cold after two hours in appropriate clothing, we need to figure out why.”

“If I sit in front of the fire, I’ll warm up, I promise,” Peter begged. “Please.”

Tony sighed and looked over at the ski patrol guy.

“The fact he’s this alert and coherent leads me to believe it’s not this low,” Doug said, pointing at the thermometer. “But that’s just more reason to get a more accurate reading.”

“Please,” Peter begged. “Just let me sit in front of the fire. I’m fine, I promise.”

Tony sighed again as he ran a hand down his face. He looked between Doug and Peter a few times, then said, “If you don’t feel warmer in fifteen minutes, we are going back there. I will drag you kicking and screaming if I have to.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically.

“If he starts seeming out of it or sluggish, his speech starts slurring, or anything at all changes with his mental state, call us over,” Doug said. He held the thermometer out to Tony. “I’ll let you keep this for now. Just turn it back in at the front desk when you’re done.”

Peter reached up and grabbed the thermometer before Tony could. He pointed it at his own head and took another reading.

“Thanks,” Tony said to Doug before the man wandered back over to the help desk. He leaned over and grabbed the thermometer out of Peter’s hand. “I’m checking your back.”

“Tony,” Peter complained, but he leaned forward and let Tony pull the collar of his coat and three different shirts and underlayers away from his skin.

Tony had expected to feel heat and sweat, exactly how his own back felt, but it was scary cold.

He pointed the thermometer at the exposed skin and took a reading.

It, at least, read 96.2.

“I don’t like this, kid,” he said, as he finally rounded the couch and sat down next to Peter.

Peter sighed. “This is just how I am,” he said.

Tony paused and glanced sideways at Peter. “Is this one of those things we don’t talk about?”

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted, his shoulders inching upward to his ears. Tony noted he still did not answer.

They’d been spending so much time together, and yet Peter still did not trust him with this side of him…

“Peter,” Tony sighed. “I’m just concerned about your safety here, that’s it. You can’t be going hypothermic from an hour outside in 20 degrees.” And if this was literally anything other than his actual health and safety, Tony wouldn’t be pushing it.

He didn’t want to push Peter. More than anything, he just wanted his son to trust him.

Peter seemed to war with himself for a full minute, his arms crossed tightly across his body and his head slowly inching down inside his coat, which he still had zipped up.

Finally, something seemed to break, and Peter slumped backward, leaning his head back on the couch behind him as he said quietly, “I can’t stay warm, no matter how bundled up I get. I get cold like this when it's, like, 50 outside.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Tony said, nodding absently for a moment. He wondered what mechanism caused that. Did it work in the opposite? Could Peter handle heat?

Peter shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“A Colorado Christmas was probably a bad idea, huh?” Tony mused. Had he known about this before, he would have suggested somewhere in the southern hemisphere. Or maybe a nice tropical island.

With another shrug, Peter said, “I thought the wool would help. And, like, moving around.”

Tony looked around the room to make sure no one was anywhere near them, before he leaned a little closer to Peter and whispered, “Did you bring your suit? Do the heaters in that help you?”

“Yeah, that’s the only thing I stay warm in,” Peter whispered back, “but no, I didn’t bring it. I didn’t want TSA to find it so I left it at home.”

“We didn’t even go through TSA,” Tony said incredulously.

“Well, I didn’t know that’s how private jets worked,” Peter shot back.

“I’ll make you base layers using the same tech,” Tony promised. Just plain black, or maybe even a skin-tone color, so it wouldn’t be too obvious under his clothes.

Peter shivered, then leaned his head sideways against Tony’s shoulder.

Tony easily put a hand on Peter’s forehead and pulled Peter closer, trying to warm him up.

He still felt way too cold.

“Next year we’ll go to the Caribbean,” Tony said.

“May would like that,” Peter said, snuggling down against Tony.

“Yeah, Pepper, too.”

Peter smiled, then opened his eyes. “I am starving.”

“Starving?” Tony asked skeptically. “How? You ate like a dozen eggs and a pound of bacon two hours ago.”

“Being cold makes me hungry,” Peter whined.

Tony turned that over in his head. If Peter’s body was struggling to produce heat, it was probably expending a ridiculous amount of energy.

“Alright,” he said, patting Peter on the knee. “I’ll go get you a sandwich. Stay here and don’t die.”

Peter grinned as he picked his hot chocolate back up and took a long sip of it.

-

The day after they got home from Christmas vacation, Tony had a pair of heated long johns ready. Since it was still the middle of winter, he didn’t want Peter to have to wait until Tuesday to get them, so he brought them over to the Parkers’ apartment that evening.

Peter answered the door and lit right up when Tony held out the bag.

“That was so fast,” he exclaimed, as he pulled the undershirt out.

“Don’t want you being cold longer than necessary,” Tony said. “If any of your powers are causing you problems… you just gotta tell me, alright? I’ll help you figure it out.”

Peter looked up at him for a long moment, chewing on his cheek. “Alright,” he finally said.

“Okay,” Tony said with a nod. “Let me know if those work, and I’ll make you a few pairs. They can be whatever color you want, and they can be washed in the washer like normal.”

“Sweet,” Peter said, looking back down at the shirt in his hands. “Thanks.”

Tony held an arm out to Peter, who easily stepped forward and let Tony wrap him up in a hug.

“I’ll see you Tuesday, bud,” he said, hugging him tight. “Love you.”

Peter wrapped one arm around Tony in response and said, “Bye, Dad.”

“Thank you, Tony,” May called out from the living room.

Tony held a hand up as a bye and made his way out of the apartment.

- - -

It was several weeks later, on a Sunday afternoon, when the topic came up again.

May worked Sunday evenings and late into the night, so Peter usually spent the morning and afternoon with her, then the two of them rode the train together until May had to get off at her stop. Peter continued on to Manhattan, and spent the night at the tower.

Tony had long stopped waiting for Peter in the lobby, instead waiting for him up in the penthouse. That afternoon, Peter rode the elevator up and got out, then immediately stumbled.

Peter tripped over his feet and grabbed onto the wall near the elevator, closing his eyes and putting a hand up on his forehead.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Tony asked, hopping to his feet and rushing across the room.

“Nothing,” Peter said, opening his eyes slowly, then blinking rapidly. “Just kinda dizzy.”

“What?” Tony exclaimed. “Sit down.” He gripped Peter’s upper arm and guided him over toward the couch. Peter huffed at him, but didn’t push him away either. When they got to the couch, he collapsed down and groaned.

“Don’t make this a thing,” Peter complained. “I’m fine. Just needed a minute.”

Tony ignored him, though, and went to grab Peter a Gatorade from the fridge. A blue one, since those were his favorite. “Chug that,” Tony said when he handed it over to Peter.

“Chug it,” Peter scoffed, though he was grinning as he opened the drink.

He didn’t chug it, but he did gulp down nearly half of it immediately.

Then his stomach growled loudly.

“Hungry?” Tony asked. That could explain getting dizzy…

“Yeah,” Peter admitted. “Starving.”

“Kid, you gotta keep up with your metabolism.” Tony usually offered Peter a snack as soon as he got there, but it was so close to dinner time, he didn’t have anything ready.

“I know,” Peter whined. “It’s just so much.”

Tony kept protein bars around, so he went and picked a couple of those out and handed them to Peter. “So you just aren’t eating enough? You have to eat so much you just don’t?” Tony asked incredulously.

Peter took the protein bars and rolled his eyes. “May says I’m eating us out of house and home,” he mumbled.

Tony froze.

“Pete,” he said in a serious tone. “Do not tell me you are starving yourself because you’re worried about money.”

“Um,” Peter said, averting his gaze. He ripped open the first bar and started chewing on it, instead of actually answering Tony.

“I know for a fact May was joking when she said that, and she was not telling you she can’t afford to feed you,” Tony said. They’d joked about how much Peter ate at Christmas.

May never once suggested she was annoyed by it, or unable to afford it.

She thought it was funny.

“How do you know that?” Peter exclaimed. “I eat a crazy amount now, and Ben was paying most of our bills before he died, now she has to work weird hours and—”

“Pete,” Tony cut in. “May is doing fine, I promise.”

“But how do you know?” Peter demanded.

“Because I tried to pay her child support and she told me to shove it, she’s fine.” Really, she’d laughed right in Tony’s face and told him his money was just about the last thing she wanted from him.

“Yeah but she’s not gonna just accept help,” Peter grumbled.

“She told me she’s getting a pension from the NYPD for Ben, and Social Security payments from your parents for you. All that plus her paycheck means she’s fine. And I promise you, if she wasn’t, I’d force child support on her.”

Peter just glared at him for a solid few seconds, then opened the second protein bar.

“Would you consent to Dr. Cho doing a physical?” Tony asked.

“I hate doctors,” Peter grumbled.

“I know, but she’s a geneticist that specializes in enhanced physiology. She works for me. She isn’t a government doctor or working for her own glory or research or anything. She is here to help the Avengers, and that is it. It would be completely confidential.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Okay, but why?”

“So we can figure out your metabolism, kid,” Tony said, leaning over the back of the couch to look right at Peter. “We gotta figure out why you get cold so easily, and figure out how much food you really need. We might be able to manufacture some special protein bars for you, so you can eat one and be satiated for hours.”

“Oh,” Peter said, perking up. “And not have to snack between every class? Or in the middle of the night?”

“You have to snack between every class?” Tony asked with a frown.

Peter just shrugged. “Sometimes. If it’s cold.”

Tony leaned over further and folded his hands together, just staring directly at Peter. “Please, kid,” he finally said. “I’d like to make your life easier.”

Peter sighed. “Fine. But if it gets weird, I’m out of here.”

“I’m on your side there, pal,” Tony said, reaching over and ruffling Peter’s hair. “I’ll ask her to see you Tuesday when you come over.”

“Fine,” Peter grumbled. “Can we go to the lab now?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Tony said, pushing himself to his feet.

-

Peter squirmed through the entire doctor appointment.

Tony asked multiple times if Peter wanted him to go away, but he seemed more anxious at the thought of being alone with the doctor, so Tony pulled a chair up next to the table Peter sat at and stayed by his side.

“Should we have May here?” Tony asked when Peter seemed to curl in on himself the longer Dr. Cho spoke with him.

All she’d done was ask him about his powers and about his dizzy or cold spells, then said she wanted to get a blood sample and baseline vitals.

“No, I don’t need May,” Peter huffed. “I’m fine, Tony. Just—”

“Okay,” Tony said quickly, “Alright. We can stop at any point, okay? If you don’t want blood drawn today, we don’t have to do it.”

“I can do it,” Peter protested. “It’s fine. Just stop talking about it.”

Tony threw both hands in the air, then mimed zipping his lips.

Peter relaxed slightly and watched with anxious eyes as Dr. Cho gathered up everything she needed for the blood draw.

He recoiled when she got near, but took a deep breath and held his arm out.

“Just one vial,” Dr. Cho promised, as she started prepping his arm.

“Okay,” Peter mumbled. He cringed when the needle went into his arm, and clenched his teeth hard.

Tony kept his mouth shut, as promised.

“All done,” Dr. Cho said, once she removed the needle. She pressed a cotton ball into the spot on his arm, but Peter gently pushed her hand away.

“It’s fine. It’s already healed,” he said, wiping the little bead of blood off his elbow.

Dr. Cho leaned in to look at it more closely. “So it is,” she said. “Impressive.” She walked the blood over to her analyzer, so Tony slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders.

“Was that as bad as you were imagining?” he asked.

“No,” Peter said, with a small shrug. He hesitated for a long moment, then whispered, “It just… it just feels a little like being studied.”

Tony pulled Peter into his side and tightened his arm. “I guess we are studying you,” Tony admitted. “To an extent, but not for any reason other than helping you. No one is doing anything with this information except figure out ways to make your life easier.”

Peter nodded into Tony’s chest. “I know,” he whispered. “I dunno, I just get nightmares sometimes about being studied by, like, the government. Or Oscorp.”

“Oscorp?” Tony asked, furrowing his brow.

“They made the spider to begin with,” Peter said with a shrug. “I always imagined if they knew about me they’d want to study me.”

“Huh,” Tony said. He absolutely would not put it past Norman Osborn to be evil like that…

“Well,” Tony continued. “As long as I live, I’ll protect you from anything near that, alright? You’re my son, and no one pokes and prods my son without his permission.”

Peter nodded.

-

Dr. Cho worked with Bruce Banner, and the two of them figured out a good protein bar formula for Peter. One that gave him enough nutrients and calories to keep him satisfied for several hours.

The first time Peter ate one, he just looked down at the wrapper with wide eyes. “Whoa,” he said.

“Yeah?” Tony said. “It good?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “I don’t think I’ve actually felt this full without eating a buffet worth of food since I got bit.”

“Great,” Tony said, clapping his hands together. “Make a list of flavors you like, and we’ll make a whole variety of them.” He paused, then pointed a finger at Peter. “These are in addition to well-rounded meals, got it? These are not instead of vegetables.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Peter said. “These are gonna be awesome for patrol.”

- - -

The next time, Tony didn’t even have to do the noticing.

He was bent over his current project in his workshop, where Peter had come and found him on Thursday afternoon.

“Dad?” Peter asked, slightly hesitantly.

“Yeah, bud?” Tony replied, still focused on his little device. He had a small screw he was trying to get seated, and it was not cooperating.

“I’ve got a, uh, spider thing,” Peter said slowly.

Tony looked up instantly. “What sort of spider thing?”

“Well,” Peter said, looking down at his hands. He fidgeted with his fingers for a moment, then mumbled, “So. My senses are…” he made a mind-blown-type gesture with his hands. “Uh, a lot sometimes.”

Tony nodded.

“Obviously, you know I can hear really well,” Peter said, finally looking up at Tony.

“Yep,” Tony said. “You can hear me ten floors away.”

Peter smirked, but nodded. “Yeah. I can hear everyone in my building all the time.”

“That sounds pretty rough, actually,” Tony said. He couldn’t imagine never being able to get quiet.

“Yeah,” Peter exhaled. “My neighbors three floors down fight a lot. It’s never, like, physical. They just yell at each other for like three hours straight and then they—” Peter made a disgusted face.

“Okay, yeah, this sounds a bit like a curse,” Tony said. He’d created a protocol to cancel out sound in his and Pepper’s room, specifically so Peter couldn’t hear them chatting at night. Or anything else fifteen-year-olds don’t need to hear their dad and stepmom doing.

“It can be, yeah,” Peter said.

“Are you wanting me to help you fix that?” Tony asked slowly.

Peter nodded. “Can you make the no-eavesdropping-spider protocol in, like, headphones?”

“Sure can,” Tony said eagerly. He rolled his chair over to his tablet and grabbed it, then brought it back over to Peter. He pulled up the protocol’s coding and showed Peter how it worked. “It actually takes sound and creates the opposite sound to cancel it out, so together it sounds like nothing.”

“And that works?” Peter asked.

“Considering you can’t hear me on the other side of the barrier, yep. That’s generally how active noise cancelling works, anyway. I just have a more powerful version.”

“Oh. I tried the, like, Bose headphones, but they don’t work for me. I can still hear everything around them.”

“Hmm,” Tony said, as he created a new project file and started jotting down some notes. “We’ll have to figure that out, then. See what sort of seal we’ll need around your ears to ensure nothing leaks through.”

“It doesn’t have to be silent, I guess,” Peter said. “I mean, it would be okay if I could hear, like, May calling my name, right? Just not my neighbors.”

“We can play around with it,” Tony said. “Maybe make different levels of it.”

“Ooh, that would be awesome. Can you make this be something inside my ears, or is over the ear the only option?”

“Hmm,” Tony hummed, while tapping his pen against his tablet. “We would need to make some prototypes to see. Do you need something like this for school?”

Tony had never considered how Peter’s hearing might affect him at school…

It was probably overwhelming, at times.

“It would be way easier to focus if I had it,” Peter admitted slowly.

“Makes sense to me,” Tony mumbled, scribbling out a potential schematic.

“Oh, and one other thing,” Peter said, leaning over Tony’s shoulder to read his notes.

Tony sat up and looked right at Peter.

“Um,” Peter said, ducking his head a little. “I have the same problem, but with my vision.”

“You can see too much?” Tony asked, furrowing his brow.

“Well, it’s more like, if I’m getting overwhelmed or tired or whatever, light feels too bright.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Tony said. He pulled his tinted glasses out of his shirt collar where they lived when not on his face, and opened them up. He gently placed them on Peter’s face, then grabbed Peter’s hand and guided it up to the little slide on the side of the glasses.

“Whoa,” Peter said, as the glasses went from no tinting to 100% tinting.

“You like that style?” Tony asked, turning back to his notes. “We can put those lenses on any frames.”

Peter took the glasses off and gave them a good look. “Yeah, these are fine. Do they look good on me?” He put them back on his face.

“They look great, kid,” Tony said with a grin. “You can have them. I’ve got another pair upstairs, and I’ll get a few more made. Do you like the color, or would you prefer them to be gray?”

“The red is weird,” Peter admitted.

“Give it a second for your eyes to adjust. The red blocks out a specific wavelength of blue light, which is a particularly rude wavelength of light.”

Peter played with the slide on the glasses as he asked, “Why do you wear these?”

“Migraines,” Tony said simply.

“Oh. When the light feels too bright, it usually is the start of a really bad headache. It feels like someone is stabbing my brain, like, right here.” Peter pointed at a spot just above his left eye.

“Yep, that’s a migraine,” Tony said. “I hate that you get them, bud. Hopefully the glasses and these earbuds will help prevent them.”

“That would be great,” Peter said enthusiastically. He grabbed a chair and pulled it over to the workstation, then sat down right next to Tony. “Can the earbuds be fully hidden inside my ear? The school has a no earbud policy.”

“Maybe,” Tony said. “If they can’t, we’ll just tell the school they’re hearing aids or something.”

Peter leaned forward and rested his head in his hand as he mused, “Oh, true. You’ll write the note?”

“May would in a heartbeat,” Tony said. “But yeah, bud. I would, too.”

“Cool.”

-

It took them three weeks and ten prototypes before Tony finally got a pair that actually worked.

When Peter put them in his ears and Tony turned them on, the sheer look of relief on his kid’s face made all the late nights of toil worth it.

“Wow,” Peter said, almost breathlessly. “I can’t hear the electricity in the walls. Your tablet isn’t humming.”

“But can you hear me talking?” Tony asked.

Peter grinned. “Yeah, but, like, quietly. These are great.”

The next thing Tony knew, Peter had his arms wrapped around Tony’s chest, so Tony returned the hug tightly.

“I’m glad I could help,” Tony said sincerely.

- - -

After that, there didn’t really seem much more to talk about.

Peter started using his powers in front of Tony a little more frequently. Nothing dramatic. He didn’t go crawling on ceilings for no damn reason, but if he needed to reach something up high, sometimes he’d just jump up and do it.

One time, he needed a third hand to carry something, so he just stuck it to his shoulder.

And it stayed.

Tony had just stared, and Peter’s cheeks had flushed pink. “You know,” he’d stammered, “Uh, I’m sticky.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Tony had said. “That’s one hell of a trick.”

“It certainly comes in handy,” Peter had mumbled in response, already going back to his current project.

But even though Tony was getting to see that side of Peter more, he still hadn’t really seen Spider-Man much.

That was, until one day in late spring, when Tony came across Spider-Man fighting with a giant lizard, right in the middle of Manhattan.

He’d heard there was an alien in Manhattan, so obviously he’d suited up to go see what the hell was going on.

And promptly found his fifteen-year-old son fighting with a lizard. A giant lizard.

It was a pretty weird sight, actually. Even weirder from Tony’s vantage point, in the Iron Man suit about 40 feet above the fight.

“Boss, Karen is attempting to connect,” FRIDAY reported in Tony’s ear.

“Yeah, obviously allow that,” Tony said. “Shouldn’t even be asking.”

A second later, Peter’s voice bounced around Tony’s helmet.

“Are you gonna just stand there or help me?” Peter huffed. He leapt in the air, then did a backflip and landed behind the lizard thing.

The lizard roared in frustration as it turned around and lunged at Spider-Man again.

“I’m technically floating here,” Tony said. “Not standing. Do you want help?”

“Well, right now it just feels like you’re judging me,” Peter scoffed.

“I’m not judging you,” Tony said honestly, drifting closer to the fight but still not engaging. “I’m looking at that weird-ass lizard. Where did you find it?”

“He’s not an it,” Peter said, leaping out of the lizard’s reach again, and this time shooting some of his webbing at him.

“Just tell me what to do, kid,” Tony said.

“I just need to pin him down so I can inject him with this stuff.”

Tony flew closer and immediately got the attention of the lizard, who ripped the webs around his legs right off, then lunged at Iron Man. “What stuff?” Tony asked, dodging the attack.

“It’s an anti-lizard serum,” Peter panted.

“A what?”

“Well, I’m not handing him over to the government to be studied,” Peter snapped. “This is Dr. Connors from NYU. He’s doing research on the human genome and created a serum that turns people into lizards. He says it’s the next stage in evolution. I came up with a formula to reverse the mutation.”

“You did what?” Tony said, shooting up in the air when Dr. Connors lunged at him again. “You actually understood the research? And furthered it?”

“It wasn’t hard,” Peter scoffed.

“Kid.” Tony landed on the ground, distracting the lizard away from Spider-Man again. “We are going down to Columbia next week and getting you enrolled.”

Peter huffed. “Shut up, the decathlon team would be lost without me.”

That was true. Peter had been the one to score the winning point at Nationals a couple of months back.

Spider-Man jumped up into the air and landed right on Iron Man’s back. Tony turned his head and tried to get a good look at him.

“Here,” Peter said, holding a syringe out in front of Tony’s face. “Get this into his neck. I’ve got another one. Whichever one of us gets him first wins.”

Tony grinned. “Ooooh, deal. If I get it, you have to go to college.”

“I’ll take one class,” Peter said.

“An independent study,” Tony agreed. “One-on-one, with a professor.”

“Fine,” Peter said. “And if I win, I get to pick movie night for the next month. Ready, go.” Peter leapt off Tony’s back before Tony could so much as agree.

They split up instantly, Peter swinging one way, and Tony shooting off the other.

Dr. Connors howled in frustration, looking between the two of them rapidly. He yelled even louder when Tony blasted him with his repulsor at the exact same time Spider-Man webbed him up.

And honestly?

It was probably the most fun Tony had had being Iron Man in a long time.

Even if Peter ‘won’ in the end.

At least they turned Dr. Connors over to the NYPD, fully human, and Peter eagerly said, “See you tomorrow!” before slinging off.

- - -

After that, the truce was broken, Tony was pretty sure.

Because that Friday night, Tony was sitting on his couch, arm slung around Pepper’s shoulders as the two of them watched whatever stupid romcom Pepper had picked.

It was May’s day with Peter, so Tony hadn’t been expecting to see him.

But then FRIDAY announced, “Spider-Man has landed on the platform outside,” just before the glass doors to the penthouse slid open, and Peter walked inside, fully decked out in his suit with a backpack strapped tightly to his back.

“Oh,” Peter said, as he pulled his mask off his face. “I didn’t know you were having, like, a date night or something. I’m sorry.”

“Pete,” Tony said, turning to face his son, his arm still around Pepper. “We live together. We do this all the time.”

“Oh.”

Tony exchanged a look with Pepper before he asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Um, well,” Peter said, walking further into the penthouse.

Tony jumped to his feet and crossed the room in a blink. He put his hands on Peter’s shoulders, then gently pulled his arms out, looking Peter up and down. He didn’t see any rips in the suit anywhere. No strange bumps or dents where there shouldn’t be.

“I’m not injured,” Peter said before Tony could even ask. He unclipped his backpack straps and shrugged it off. “I found a thing.”

“What sort of thing?” Tony asked.

Instead of answering, Peter opened the bag and pulled out… a small rock. That was glowing.

“No friggen clue,” Peter finally said. “I was hoping you could, uh, help?”

Tony looked over at Pepper and found her just smiling at him fondly. She made a go-ahead motion with her hand.

“Hell yeah I can help with that,” Tony said eagerly. “Let’s get it down to the workshop.”

Peter grinned widely. “I’m gonna change real quick,” he said, holding the rock out to hand to Tony.

“One sec,” Tony said. He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled out a ceramic bowl. “Put it in the bowl. I don’t want to touch it with bare hands until we know what it’s made out of.”

“Smart, smart,” Peter said, as he dropped the rock into the bowl with a clink. “B-R-B.” He bolted toward his bedroom, so Tony set the bowl down on the counter and leaned over to get a better look at it.

He honestly had no clue what the hell it even was.

“I’m going to bake some cookies,” Pepper said.

“That would be great, kid’s probably hungry after swinging all this way,” Tony said, as he reached a finger toward the rock to see if it was emitting any heat.

It wasn’t. If anything, it felt colder near it.

Odd.

“I ate one of my protein bars,” Peter hollered from his bedroom.

Tony grinned. “I’m sure he’ll still eat a few cookies, Pep. I’m going to text May, make sure she knows where he is.”

‘Found your kid,’ Tony texted once he had his phone out. ‘We’re gonna bang a weird rock with a hammer for a while. Let me know if you want him back.’

Her response came back almost immediately. ‘Keep him. I’m watching the bachelor, and he’ll get all whiny about it if he comes home.’

Tony laughed. ‘Will do,’ he replied. He looked back down at the rock and called out, “Where’d you get this thing, Pete?”

Peter came back out, wearing one of Tony’s MIT hoodies over a pair of pajamas Tony had bought him. “It fell out of a gun this guy had in Queens,” he said. “He was trying to sell it, and I broke up the sale before it could happen, but they got away. All I recovered was this.”

“Looks alien to me,” Tony said.

“No way,” Peter exclaimed. “That’s so cool!”

“Glad you think so,” Tony muttered dryly. “I don't like that someone’s trying to sell alien guns in Queens.”

“Yeah, duh, me either,” Peter scoffed. “I wonder what this can do.”

“Let’s go find out,” Tony said, picking up the bowl. “We should wear all the protective stuff while we bang this with a hammer.”

Peter grinned. “This is awesome. Can I stay the night? I probably should have asked that before I got into PJs, but like, obviously I can, right?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Tony said with a laugh. “May told me to keep you. She’s watching The Bachelor.”

“Oh gross,” Peter said as they stepped into the elevator together. “I hate that show. There’s this other one she likes, too. Love Island. Terrible.”

Tony snorted. “Pepper is into Love Is Blind.”

“Women,” Peter scoffed good-naturedly. “Will you help me get the alien guns out of Queens?”

“Yeah, of course, Pete,” Tony said, slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I don’t want those out there around you, anyway.”

Peter smiled slightly. “Cool. The Avengers robbed a bank using them.”

“I saw you stop that on TV. Good work. Thor and the Hulk are pretty tough foes.”

“Iron Man was easy, though,” Peter said with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, I’m sure. I’ve heard he’s just some dude in a tin can.” Tony squeezed his arm around Peter briefly, then let go entirely as they got off the elevator and went into the workshop. He set the bowl down on one of the work stations, then went about getting all the right protective gear.

Once they were both fully prepared, Peter dumped the bowl out onto the table and just watched as the rock clattered across the table.

“Spider-Man and Iron Man are on the case,” he said.

“We sure are,” Tony said.

Talking about it was the best development so far.