AN: The dad bit you're about to read was inspired by the adorable comic by shesellsseagulls .tumblr .com (slash) post/175215919167/they-are-in-the-fatherson-zone-and-its
It's so cute that I just can't unsee it happening!
Special thanks to my co-writer MegaLegU (Supersidekick on AO3) for helping me massively throughout. Seriously, this chapter wouldn't be half as good as it is now without her.
Title inspired by The Smiths's song. Not only does it go well with the theme it also keeps up the series title tradition. Although, you could say the song can be interpreted into many things.
Having said that…
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of sexual abuse towards the end. Please read with care.
Part I
Peter woke with a start, his weary mind recalling the previous evening he had with his dad.
Speaking of the word dad…
Aunt May had a business conference a few states over and they all thought it would be a good opportunity for Peter to spend the week with his father. They spent the first night (last evening) tinkering in the lab, eating junk food (including Stark's flavoured ice cream) and alternating between singing rock classics and post-millennial music. At some point, Tony showed him the mechanics of Rhodey's leg brace. He even helped Peter build a mini-robot; not like DUM-E, but a small device that moved from point A to point B. It was nothing compared to Tony's amazing gadgets but Tony acted like it was, telling Peter he did an incredible job and that he was going places…
"MIT will have a field day with you!"
"Who said I was even going to college?" Peter joked.
Tony halted and stared straight at him. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that."
It was one of the best days of Peter's life. It also left him worn out by eleven. Tony stopped talking when he noticed that he wasn't joined by his exuberant son. He turned to the boy and smiled fondly as he saw Peter resting his head on his arms on the counter. He walked up to him and whispered, "Pete, get to bed. This will hurt your back in the morning, take it from me."
The tired teen moaned and stretched his back. "Okay," he yawned. Mind still in a haze, Peter reached the doorway and mumbled, "'Night, Dad," on his way out.
Which led to now, in bed, at three in the morning. His mind was dreaming of the moment – to torture him? Probably.
Peter was pretty sure Mr Stark heard his slip of the tongue. He didn't know why he was so embarrassed. It had been two months since they discovered the truth about their relationship, and he had spent a lot of time with him since then.
Maybe he was more worried about Mr Stark's reaction. What if he didn't want to be called Dad so openly like that?
Peter shook his thoughts away and hoped he just hadn't heard him.
The sun rose too soon and Tony walked into Peter's room, exhaustion evident around his eyes and a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. "Rise and shine, kiddo. Time to get up."
Peter grumbled and placed his pillow over his head.
"Up and 'atom', as your science t-shirts would say." Tony made air-quotes around the word 'atom' making sure that his progeny noticed the pun.
Peter only grumbled louder.
Tony commended May's ability to get him up every morning. This was his first time shaking a sleeping teenager awake and he was already losing patience. It was his fault, really. He should've set a bedtime like May asked but he was just so excited to have his son over for the first time that he wanted to spend every waking opportunity with him. Especially when he had missed so many years…
Tony sighed as there were no signs of movement from the boy. He removed the blanket harshly, revealing a whining Peter in his white t-shirt and pyjama bottoms as he lied on his stomach with his limbs spread out. Tony took a hold of his ankle and pulled him towards the edge of the bed, the boy's shirt riding up as he did so. "Get up, come on. If I have to go to my morning meetings, you have to go to school."
Peter mumbled to his sheets, "Can't you go for me?"
"As tempting and, admittedly amusing, as it would be to have the Secretary of Estate screaming in my voicemail, I've done my time. Let's gooooo," he said, pulling at the boy's elbow with his spare hand, careful as to not drop hot coffee him. "You have a long ride ahead of you."
Peter finally got up, removing his shirt and carelessly throwing it to the floor, and swayed towards the bathroom, griping about something along the lines of, "It's not my fault you decided to relocate Upstate."
Tony sipped his coffee and exhaled the scent. "God give me strength to do this every morning." Monday down, four more days to go.
Satisfied by his victory, and this was definitely one to the nines, Tony hobbled to the kitchen to make them some breakfast.
Peter was showered and dressed when he made his way to the island, dragging his backpack alongside him.
Tony placed a bowl of oatmeal topped with eggs and bacon in front of Peter, relishing the satisfaction that he got from placing the foods in a smile-shaped formation. (Needless to say, he was inspired by a viewing of Mulan with Peter.)
Peter glanced up from the food as if to say, 'you're kidding me.' Admittedly, Tony felt a flare-up of anxiety in his stomach. He worried that his enthusiasm at new-found fatherhood was a bit more...voracious than subtle. He didn't want to freak the (his) kid out. The wait for Peter to dig into the food felt interminable.
Finally, Peter picked up a piece of bacon and began chewing. Tony let out a subtle breath of relief. Not wanting to let Peter know that just a few seconds prior, his insides had seemed to be coiling into an uncomfortable knot, he pointed to the teenager's shirt which said 'Up and Atom'.
"Of course," he remarked at the pun that he had made a play on only a few moments prior.
"Nuh-uh," Peter playfully pointed his spoon at him. "You can't make fun of my shirts when you give me this," he said, pointing at the bowl.
"What? Warrior's breakfast and it's happy to see you."
"Wow, you deserve this shirt more than I do."
"Might take you up on that offer," Tony said, unable to suppress his smile. "Eat."
"There better not be a grasshopper in there," he joked.
"Cricket."
"What?" Peter said with a mouthful.
"It's a cricket, not a grasshopper. They're considered a sign of luck. Have you heard of a lucky grasshopper?" Peter looked worriedly at his bowl. Tony rolled his eyes. "There's nothing in there, just eat!"
"If you grew up with May's cooking you'd be paranoid too."
"I don't doubt that," Tony muttered, recalling her walnut and date loaf. He sat opposite Peter as he ate his own bowl of oatmeal, (minus the food-smile) a newspaper lying out before him. His eyes scrolled through the Financial Times, finding a few articles on the latest business deals his company had signed.
Peter couldn't stop yawning between his bites. Halfway through his food, he paused and held his face by his hand. As he almost fell face-first into his bowl his father said, "Hey, I don't want a repeat of earlier. Up, up!" he snapped his fingers. "What's with you this morning? Are you always like this? Because, if so, your aunt deserves tremendous pay for her efforts. Maybe she could save for a new car. Or house."
Ignoring the jab, Peter said, "No, I'm not always like this. I've just been patrolling almost every night the past few weeks."
"Peter," he reprimanded, closing his newspaper and folding it on his lap, "what did May and I say about overdoing it?"
"Crime doesn't sleep, Mr Stark." He shoved his bowl away, placing his arms on the counter for his head to rest on. "And apparently neither do I."
"Oh, it's back to 'Mr Stark' now, is it?"
That made Peter snap right up. "You heard that?"
Tony smiled. "It's fine. Whatever you think works."
Peter blushed slightly.
"Although, if you want to keep this whole thing hush-hush you might not want to do it in public."
Peter grinned and nodded sheepishly.
"Come on, get to school. Happy is waiting downstairs."
Peter rushed towards the lift, almost bumping into Rhodey on the way. "Hi, Mr Rhodes! Bye, Mr Rhodes!"
Rhodey had his hand halfway up but Peter was quick to leave.
"And we'll talk about your patrolling hours later!" Tony called out, hearing a groan from the teenager in return as the lift doors closed.
He grinned to his friend and then at himself for a job well-done. "Killing it."
xXx
"Hi, Peter."
Peter almost jumped from his concentrating and turned to find the voice belonging to a classmate. "Hey…" He tried to recall her name but couldn't pinpoint it. The young woman had long, chest-length, white-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was almost as tall as Peter but, as Peter was sitting down, she appeared to tower over him with her confident stance.
"I drew your name from the hat, guess we're partners," she shrugged from underneath the backpack straps resting on her shoulders. "Lucky for me, I have the smartest guy in the class."
Peter raised his brow at her bluntness, but he had to admit: she was cute. He laughed nervously. "I'm sorry, I can't seem to remember your name," he admitted sheepishly.
"That's okay, I'm still sort of new and this our first class together. I'm Gwen."
He shook her hand. "Peter…but you sorta knew that." They laughed lightly. "Wait, if you're new how could you tell I was the smartest?"
Gwen's cheeks flushed scarlet; she wouldn't admit that she'd been eyeing him since starting school two weeks ago. "Oh, Mr Harrington couldn't stop gushing about you," she covered. She wasn't lying; she had met the teacher when she asked about decathlon practise. "So, what are we working on?"
Peter smiled and talked about the chemistry project, surprised to find how interested she was in actually listening to what he was talking about. He was so engrossed in his science talk that he didn't notice the way this Gwen girl was looking at him.
Before they both knew it, the bell rang to give relief to their hungry stomachs. They were walking down the busy hallway and Peter was about to ask her to join his lunch table when Flash bumped his shoulder, causing him to drop his books.
"Watch it, Penis." Flash ignored the hapless look that Peter served him and instantly turned to the new, blonde girl. "Sorry you got the runt of the litter."
Gwen raised her brow at this guy. "Excuse me?"
"Hey, why don't you join me and my friends, you know, to get that stench of loser-" he said, looking down at said boy as he was picking up his books, "from your hair?"
"I think I got more than enough of that stench from your greasy mop," she countered and Peter almost laughed.
Flash's friends, however, didn't hold back. They pulled him towards the hall and yelled along the lines of, "Oh burn!" and "Savage!" and "She got you good, Flash!" while he timidly checked his hair.
Peter smiled at her and offered her his elbow – she'd earned that much. "Why don't you join my table?"
Gwen easily accepted it. "I'd love that."
He introduced his new friend to the rest of the gang. Ned almost choked on his apple juice, because 'pretty girl is standing by their table' was blaring in his mind, and MJ eyed her the way she scrutinised Peter when he was making excuses to miss decathlon practise. "Guys, this is Gwen…"
"Stacy," she finished.
"We're partners in lab." Peter was almost embarrassed by the way his friends stared at her. "And she roasted Flash back there."
Finally, MJ held up a first-bump. "Respect."
Gwen grinned and returned the gesture.
"That was you?" Ned said. "I overheard everything from that table." He pointed to Flash's friends. "Man, I wish I had your balls."
The new girl laughed along, feeling like she was already part of the group.
xXx
Peter was in a great mood when he started patrol that afternoon. He made a new friend, Flash got a taste of his own medicine, he was spending a whole week with his father at the freaking Avengers facility. And he made that Maths quiz his bitch. Suffice to say, life was good.
He was ready to call it a night when he got a phone call.
It wasn't an unusual call. It was his aunt checking up on him, as she had been doing since she took off for the week. He, in fact, was expecting it.
What he wasn't expecting, was his aunt dropping a bombshell on him.
Peter hadn't thought about him in years, boxing up those nightmares a lifetime ago and throwing away the key. Ultimately, he thought he had moved on. But then they got a letter. A few weeks ago, May had said. "I'm so sorry I waited this long to tell you, sweetheart. I just thought it would be best not to bring it up, but then I thought…you'd want to say something."
Peter was angry. Not at her, but at himself. Because he would want to say something, would want to prevent a tragedy happening to another human being the way it had happened to him. At the same time, he just wanted to curl up and forget it ever happened.
But he couldn't. He was Spider-Man now. He had a responsibility.
After he hung up he sat on the roof of a building, thoughts of calling it a night dismissed. His mind was too riled up.
Without thinking twice, Peter ordered to shut Karen down, effectively stopping any possible calls from his father. He needed time to clear his head.
xXx
The next morning, Peter was up earlier than usual, which was surprising considering the time he came back last night. He made sure to be as discreet as possible when he climbed to his room. So discreet, even FRIDAY wouldn't detect him. He just hoped Vision wouldn't walk through his wall like before and give him the scare of a lifetime. (So that was what Happy had meant by Vision not being a fan of walls.)
Peter placed his headphones, a new release courtesy of Stark Industries (his dad wanted him to have the first pair) onto his head and sang the next song on his playlist.
"'Cause we're young and reckless...we'll take it way too far…" Peter took his bread out of the toaster and started dousing it in peanut butter. He felt his mood slowly lifting when suddenly the headphones were snatched from his head.
"Hey!" he yelled indignantly before noticing the dark look on his father's face.
"What would," he set the headphones down on the counter, "you call the stunt you pulled last night?"
"Uh, getting fresh air?" Peter asked meekly.
"Really? 'Cause I would call it 'My Scrawny Ass Is About To Get Grounded Because I Never Answered the Many Missed Calls My Poor Worried Father/Mentor, Who Gave Me a Billion-Dollar Suit, Left Me'."
Peter looked blankly at him. "That's way too long to fit on a business card." He saw none of the usual spark in Tony's eyes that indicated he was in a joking mood.
Rhodey walked in, leg brace squeaking, intending to seek out some food. Tony threw his friend an intense 'not now' gaze and Rhodey immediately retreated, sensing the tension in the room.
"Well?" Tony leveled his gaze at his sheepish son. "What do you have to say?"
"Come on, Mr Stark, it's not like I'm out late partying." Tony knew that Peter was still wearing in the word 'dad' but it hurt when he slipped back to 'Mr Stark'. It put distance between him and his son - something he had already felt so acutely, not having had the knowledge of their connection for so many years.
"No, it's not. Because at least then I would know where you are. Instead, I have a fifteen-year-old who prefers to spend his late evenings like he's Captain Planet."
"Who?"
"And even then that guy has his planeteers. You, on the other hand, have no backup, especially when you turn off your tracker." Tony finally took a breath from his lecturing. "You can't do that, Peter. You can't just turn off your tracker and not answer when I'm calling, so I'm not sitting here like a jackass wondering where the hell you are in the middle of the night!" Don't you realise how much time we were separated from each other? How easily that could be made permanent?
Peter's eyes wavered downwards. He didn't want Mr Stark to worry and he hadn't meant to stay up so late. He just wanted some air and lost track of time, and before he knew it the call of duty had presented itself once more.
Tony rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. May had warned him about this, about setting boundaries. Sure, Peter overall was a great kid. But being a great kid still came with downfalls. He was too good if anything. "You can't be there to stop every robbery, Peter. And yes - I saw the news."
"Nobody got hurt."
"You could've!" The audacity of this kid. When Tony realised he wasn't getting to him he tried another approach. "I thought we had a deal, bud. You can go patrolling as long as it doesn't interfere with your life."
"This is my life!" Peter exclaimed, and then relaxed his shoulders when he felt guilty at snapping at the man when all he had was concern for him. "If I can't help myself, the least I can do is help others!"
Tony looked confused by the statement. "What?" Peter's allusion to something happening in his past gave him pause.
Peter ignored him. "Besides, they were just thieves."
"With guns."
"That had blanks! And one of them had his safety on. World's worst robbers, if you ask me."
"And what if they weren't? You could've gotten shot. Your suit isn't bulletproof." Tony left out the fact that he was working on the next type, one that could handle the infliction of more serious injuries.
"Then I would've sensed it," he shrugged, as if it were an everyday thing.
Tony blinked. "Pardon me?"
"I don't know how to describe it. But it's like…something tingles at the back of my neck. Actually, I wouldn't say 'tingling' because it's not a happy sort of feeling, more like…"
"Chills," Tony finished.
"Yeah, exactly. Something that makes my hair stand-up. And it's constantly happening when my body thinks it's being threatened. Downside is, it can't tell between the threat level of a bullet and a foam ball, so I'm always sensing something." He also left out the fact that the danger could get too close by the time the sense acted up. In other words, he could get shot before he had the time to dodge the bullet, but he wasn't about to voice that out to his already apprehensive friends and family.
There was a period of silence when the air had settled around their words. Peter said, "I'm sorry. I know it was wrong not giving you a heads up, and I shouldn't have shut down the suit. I just... I just needed air."
Tony's anger faded instantly, recognising Peter's sudden mood change. "What's wrong?"
Peter took a moment. He looked like he was about to say what was on his mind when he noticed the time on the kitchen clock. "Shit. I'm late for school." He left the peanut-buttered toast behind and rushed towards the exit.
Tony grabbed the toast and followed Peter. He placed a hand at the back of his neck when he reached him. "We're not done talking about this, okay?" he said, handing the boy his breakfast.
Peter accepted the food, saying "I know," with a mouthful, some spittle coming out.
"Don't drip toast on my floors. And don't you dare go on patrol tonight. I've seen your workload."
"By the way," Peter shifted the backpack onto his back, "who's Captain Planet?"
Tony sighed. That stung. "Get to school, before I die of old age."
When Peter was out of sight, Rhodey walked back into the kitchen with a sympathetic look.
"Don't start," Tony said.
His friend help up his hands in surrender. "I didn't say anything. But for what it's worth, I think you handled it okay."
Tony shook his head. "I never meant to yell. God, I used it hate it when my dad did that."
"But you did it with the right intentions. The kid disobeyed you and puts himself in danger almost every night. I think you have a right to feel the way you feel." He sat on a seat by the island.
Tony went around the kitchen and started making food for the both of them. "Maybe. I still don't want him to turn out the way I did."
Rhodey laughed. "Buddy, I think that ship has way passed sailed when he started swinging between high buildings. Also, didn't you tell me he said he wanted to be like you?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "I didn't ask him to be."
"I know. And honestly, you're not as terrible as you lead people to believe."
Tony sighed, feeling uncomfortable at the earnestness in his friend's expression. Glancing at the leg brace he could almost feel the guilt of what happened to his friend seeping back up into his veins. Shaking his head, he offered, "Pancakes?"
"Please. Extra syrup."
"With diabetes running in your family? I don't think so."
"Have you been talking to my mum again?"
"Of course. By the way, she wants to know when she'll get grandkids."
"Ugh, can I borrow Peter?"
"I think that'll raise more questions."
xXx
The final bell rang and Peter almost made it to Happy when he heard his name being called. He turned around to find Gwen running to catch up to him.
"Hey," she huffed and spent a few seconds gathering her breaths back. "I'm not out of shape; you're just a really fast walker!"
Peter chuckled. "What's up, Gwen?"
"Listen, I thought maybe I should like…ease into it, and I wasn't sure how you'd take it but…" She saw the confusion on his face. "You know what? Fuck it. Do you wanna go out with me Friday night?"
Peter's eyes almost bulged. "Did…did you just... I mean, like, hang out or something?"
"That's what going out means." Peter's shoulder's deflated slightly. "As in a date, Parker."
"Seriously? Me?"
"Yes, you." Gwen felt flattered by how flustered he was. "Interested or not?"
"Yeah!" In retrospect, Peter supposed he should have played it cool and not seemed so eager but as Gwen would say, fuck it. This was his first proper date and it was someone who had asked him out. "Oh my God, sure! I'm free."
"Great. Finally. I've been trying to drop hints all day. I was getting so obvious I'm pretty sure the janitor was embarrassed for me. For a smart guy, you're sure not that observant."
Peter blinked. Was this really happening? A girl who looked like Gwen Stacy was actually interested in him? Even Liz hadn't been as forward.
"Anyway," she continued. "My dad's waiting. And I think yours is too?" She pointed in the direction of a very grouchy Happy occupied by his phone; probably complaining to his boss about the injustice of being forced to pick up a teenager from school every day this week.
"Oh," Peter chuckled. "That's not him. That's…" he trailed off. Nevermind. It was far too complicated a story to explain within the space of a few seconds. Besides, Gwen was pretty astute. Peter had a feeling that she would be able to piece his story together without his intervention. "So I'll see you Friday?"
Gwen headed to her parents' car. "Friday, seven. I'll text you my address. Don't be late, Parker."
Peter reached the car as Happy protested about having to wait so long for him. He didn't care though. His mind was occupied with was the upcoming date. He couldn't shake off the smile on his face.
"What's with the goofy grin?" Happy teased, looking at him through the rearview mirror. "It's not because of that blonde girl, is it?"
Peter's grin widened. "Maybe."
"She's cute," Happy said, supportively.
"And smart, and takes down bullies with just her words. And she asked me out. Me."
"And what's wrong with 'you'? You sound surprised."
"Come on, Happy."
"I'm serious. I mean, sure you can get a little, you know," he waved his hand. "And you wear those shirts and whatnot." He missed the confused and slightly insulted look on Peter's face. "But you're a good kid. You deserve it."
"Thanks, Happy. I think."
xXx
"Mr Stark?" Peter called out to the lab after punching in his personal code so that he could access the room. Despite having entered the room multiple times, he still felt as if he were intruding - this was Tony's private space and it still felt as if he had to ask for permission to see a part of a man that he knew now as his father.
"In here, kid. You're just in time. I'm about to test some cool nanotech shit." Tony, from his perch at a workbench in the middle of his expansive lab, looked down at the floor and amended, "I mean...stuff."
"Awesome!" Peter exclaimed, glancing at the mess of wires that were in front of Tony, constructing yet another one of his inventions. He set down his backpack by DUM-E. "Can I go first?"
"No, you hold the camera," he said, shoving the item to Peter.
"Okay!" Nonplussed, Peter accepted the object.
Tony was relieved; he thought Peter would try and convince him to be the guinea pig.
"By the way, I can't make it to lab work on Friday."
Tony focused on applying a device on his chest, similar to that of his old arc reactor. It had metal shoulder straps to hold it in position. "And why not?"
Peter held up the camera, uncomfortable with revealing the truth. "I...well...I'm, uh..."
"Hanging with Ned?"
"No…?"
"Spit it out then, I don't have all evening."
"Ihaveadate," he said in a pace faster than Tony could keep up.
"Try that again?"
"I have a date," Peter said, slowly this time as he placed the camera on the table to face his father without something between them as he spoke.
"A play date?"
"No!" he retorted petulantly, the pout not helping make his case. "A date-date."
"Not possible, you're twelve," Tony teased.
Not appreciating the jest towards his youthful face, Peter exclaimed, "I'm turning sixteen! I'll be able to drive soon!"
Tony tried holding back a snort. "Right, of course. God help us all when that day comes." He recalled the clip of Spider-Man crashing a car (Flash's, as he later told him) on YouTube. Good thing he had that car replaced to prevent the family from coming after the vigilante.
"Dad, come on!" Peter was too genuinely indignant by his father's tone to notice that he had once again called him 'dad'.
Tony, however, didn't miss it. Admittedly, he had been feeling crestfallen at Peter's lack of calling him 'dad'. The fact that it had slipped back into his vernacular reassured him that their spat earlier that morning had not indelibly affected anything. Tony wondered when he would stop considering fatherhood such a perilous journey. Hypervigilance had been necessary since that unfortunate day back in Afghanistan. If he could relax (at least partly) ever again, he always held onto the idea that he could do it with someone who shared his blood: Peter.
He let out a small smile and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Listen. Good luck on your date. Be a gentleman, open doors, offer a chair and all that jazz."
"I know." Peter rolled his eyes playfully. "Aunt May already told me all that when I went to Homecoming with Liz."
"Good. Chivalry won't die in our genes. Just make sure you don't leave her in the middle of the date this time."
"You know if I hadn't done that your plane-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're an angel. Have you thought about what you're going to wear?" Tony hoped to God that Peter wasn't going to say anything with a science pun.
Peter raised his hand to answer but stopped short. "Oh crap, I don't know. Um, jeans and a t-shirt?"
Tony sighed. "Jeans and a t-shirt. For your first date. You know you're never gonna get that back, right?"
"Oh man, you're right. Help me!" The look of earnest panic on his son's face reminded him that this was a moment that he wouldn't miss. First steps, first word, riding a bike without training wheels...but first date? He wouldn't miss that for the world.
Tony smiled widely and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You, my young progeny, have come to the right place."
xXx
Tony felt like he had waited a lifetime for this moment. He had offered to take him shopping before, of course, but both May and Peter were insistent on not accepting extravagant things that would cost the equivalent of months of rent for them. This time, however, Peter was too anxious about his date to spend time reflecting on the amount of money Tony would spend helping him.
"Um…Mr Stark, isn't this a little too formal?" Peter said, standing atop the tailor's podium with trepidation as the elderly man crouched on his knees, taking measurements so that Peter's trousers would be properly hemmed. Tony had requested a more private section of the store where they wouldn't be bothered by the public or their cameras. (It helped that he was a valued customer.) Champagne was offered but Tony quickly grabbed the glass before Peter could reach it.
It definitely was too formal, but Tony wasn't about to waste an opportunity to buy his son as many things as he deserved. "Okay, Petey-Pie, we'll take the suit and the rest of these clothes and lay out our options when we get home, alright?"
"Okay," Peter smiled, then faltered. "Can you not call me that in public?"
When they reached home, the two spent a few hours poring through the many, many options that Tony had insisted on compiling together.
Finally, they decided on an outfit and Peter shoved the rest of the items into his closet, missing the gaping look his father gave him. "You can't shove thousands of dollars of worth into a wardrobe like it's a yard sale."
Peter's eyes widened, his bubble bursting. "How much?"
"Go downstairs and prep the lab." Tony didn't want to entertain Peter's misguided notion that he would somehow owe him some kind of interminable gratitude for a measly amount of money that Tony could have spent on his own breakfast alone. He was his son; as far as Tony was concerned, that granted him access to certain luxuries. And, honestly, it was fun to revel in his wide-eyed amazement.
xXx
The next day when Peter came back from school a vest was immediately thrust upon him. Peter's senses worked quickly and he caught the item before it smacked against his face. He looked up in confusion at Rhodey who was looking left and right. Before Peter could ask, the man took his elbow and led him to cover behind the sofa by one of the many living rooms in the compound.
"What's going on?" Peter looked around him, expecting a security breach of some kind. He reached for his web-shooters in the backpack but Rhodey caught his elbow and put a plastic gun into his hand. "What's going on, Mr Rhodes?" he asked again, this time with a hint of amusement.
"Shh, not so loud. The walls have ears. And I told you, call me Rhodey."
"Okay, Mr Rhodey." Peter chuckled, "You guys started a game of laser tag without me?"
"You're just in time, kid. Tony and I are picking teams, and I just about caught you."
"That's cheating!" a voice boomed over them. "You can't use my own son against me!" They heard protests from Pepper, who was now on Tony's team, to stay down before they're thrown out of the game that early.
Rhodey called out, "You snooze, you lose, Stark!" He turned to the kid. "Leave everything behind. It's just you, me..." he lifted the gun, "And the war. Don't let me down, soldier."
Several minutes and multiple reloads later, they decided to call it a tie. After which, Rhodey rested his legs while Peter encouraged (or more like pulled at Tony's elbow) to do some cooking. Tony insisted he had a personal chef for this, but Peter was admanant in keeping up the tradition he had with his aunt while she was away.
Pepper thought it was endearing. She and Peter even ganged up against Tony and covered him in flour.
Despite the abundant mess they left the kitchen the brownies turned out pretty good, if Tony said so himself.
xXx
Friday arrived too soon, and Tony was helping Peter with his tie as he went over the ground rules.
"When she gets up to use the bathroom?"
"I stand up."
"When she says she's not feeling well?"
"I walk her home."
"You'll be back by?"
"Ten thirty."
"Because we want to?"
"Respect her parents' wishes."
Tony smiled, satisfied by Peter's answers. He finished the tie and smoothed out his son's newly-pressed shirt. And because Tony couldn't help himself, "And remember, always, always," he stopped for dramatic effect, "use protection." He almost laughed at the way Peter's eyes widened.
"Oh...my God! No! This isn't- I'm not even- this is my first date- I'm-" he paused when he saw his dad grinning playfully at him. "I should go."
Tony laughed. "Go, kid. Have fun on your date – but not too much fun – and let me know how it goes!" He turned to the driver standing by the doorway. "Happy, drop him off."
"Sure, what better things do I have to do on a Friday night than drop off a fifteen-year-old to go on his first date? It's not like I made any plans to go on a date with my girlfriend."
"I know for a fact that you broke up with her a month ago." Before Happy could protest further, Tony held up his hand, "Besides, you have the rest of the night off to do whatever it is you do when you're roaming around NYC. You even have the car." Tony had offered one from his most expensive collection to compensate. Plus, a tip so generous even Happy could set aside his annoyance for one night.
Happy sighed frustratingly. "Fine." He turned to the teenager. "But you're still sitting at the back."
xXx
Tony was so nervous for the boy it felt like he was going on this date. He waited till Peter showed up at the curfew he set, occupying his time by watching the news and then a movie. Without knowing, his eyes slowly started drooping. He was startled awake by FRIDAY's voice informing him that Peter was home. Tony removed the blanket from his lap and grabbed his empty mug from the table, catching Peter as he walked out of the lift.
He couldn't hold back his anticipation. "Hey, Pete. How was the-"
"I'm tired. Going to bed," was the sudden reply.
Before Tony could process why Peter was giving such curt responses, he was already trudging his way to his room.
That was odd.
He hadn't had time to confront Peter about it as, the very next morning, Tony was pulled into an emergency business conference that was sending him across the globe. He had almost cancelled and decided to stay but Pepper gave him hell for the notion, ("I cannot keep rescheduling with the board, Tony. I know you have obligations with your newfound fatherhood and I've never been more proud of you, honey, but you can't let the business slide and essentially leave your son with nothing in the future.")
The guilt-tripping was a low-blow, but he had to admit she was right. As much as it was a struggle to balance his professional and personal life (especially when he was keeping one on the down-low), he needed to set an example for the kid he now had.
It also frustrated Tony because this was the last day before Peter was heading back to his apartment. He wanted to say a few words before he left, but the kid was sleeping and he didn't have the heart to wake him. If the date turned as bad as Tony feared, he needed as much sleep as he could get. God, he really hoped that blonde girl, Gwen, hadn't ditched him. Tony didn't think he could take the distraught look on his face. That was what Aunt May was for, and thank God she made it back in time for this.
May arrived home the night before and she was eager to see her nephew again. Tony knew for a fact with the way Peter was talking about his aunt that he missed her too.
Something pulled at his chest and he hoped that, someday, maybe Peter would feel the same longing during his absence.
Maybe he wouldn't, if Tony ended up prioritising one life over the other. It wasn't something he ever thought he was going to worry over. He made the decision a long time ago he wasn't cut out for family, kids and all that white picket fence. The cycle of shame that was sex, booze and his adversary relationship with his father would die with him.
That changed when Tony discovered he had fathered a son.
He spent the entire plane ride ruminating over whether he made the right choice by leaving when something was obviously wrong with Peter. Although this meeting was definitely important to drawing investors to keep Stark Industries going, he couldn't shake off the dirty feeling that he chose money over family. The promise he made to himself about not turning out like his father when he found out about Peter was coming back to bite him.
That feeling increased tenfold when Tony hadn't received a call or text from Peter during the entire trip. Sure, the kid replied with one-worded answers to his texts so at least Tony was reassured he wasn't lying dead in a ditch somewhere, but that was a huge step back from his usually all-caps energy and overuse of emoticons (half the time Tony couldn't even decipher them). He was side-eyed by the men in suits around him when he kept glancing at his phone during conversations but their condescending "Do you have more important things, Mr Stark?" be damned because, yes, he had a kid to catch up with.
A kid who was not acting like himself. The anxiety levels reached a point where he had to get Happy to check up on the boy and all Happy could tell him was that he seemed alright, just not talkative. Tony almost yelled at the man, that's not normal!
He left voicemails. Peter never called back.
xXx
It was Tuesday night when Tony finally made it back to the compound. After the amount of old, boring suck-ups he had been dealing with all weekend, he was more than looking forward to seeing his son's face again tomorrow after school.
The kid dragged his feet into the kitchen with the same expression he wore since the last time he saw him.
"Hey," Tony said, trying to keep the anxiety at bay. Teenagers just needed their space, he tried to justify. It's not uncommon for a parent to deal with.
Peter only acknowledged his father with a nod.
Screw. This. It was not common behaviour. This was Peter, for crying out loud. "So I've tried calling you…" Translation: I have called. Numerous times. I could be named helicopter parent of the year with the amount of messages I left and I'd be more annoyed that I'm being ignored but this is very strange behaviour for you so I will reel it in. "And I didn't hear much back, so I have to ask… Is it me? Did I book the wrong restaurant? Did she not like the food? Are you mad at me or something?"
"No," Peter said. Even in this mood he was still reassuring his mentor. "I'm not mad at you."
"Then what? What happened on that date?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Peter muttered.
"Why not?" He tried to ease into the conversation by joking, "Did she pinch those baby cheeks? I know how you don't like it when I do that."
"I said I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Peter snapped this time.
In all the time Tony had known him, he'd never heard Peter use that tone on him. "Hey, what's up?"
"Nothing. Can we just...get on with this?"
"Absolutely not."
"Fine, I'll just go."
"Peter!" he gently tugged at his arm, a little trick he learned from May when Peter wasn't feeling talkative but needed a little encouragement. This was Peter's 'I want to talk but I don't know how' mood. He came across it before when the kid was opening up stories about his uncle. "Hey," he said gently. "Talk to me." He sat on a seat on the kitchen island and offered Peter the one next to it. "What's going on? Did something happen? Did she ditch you?" The boy shook his head. "Then what?"
Peter shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve, and then finally said, "We went to that restaurant you booked…I should've said thank you, Mr Stark. You went out of your way to get us a table and pay for our food and I just-"
"Hey, Peter," Tony stopped him. "I was more than happy to do that for you. Tell me, what happened after?"
"We walked…went to the park and talked. It was nice…" Peter took a deep breath and the corner of his lip lifted slightly, "I had my first kiss."
Tony couldn't help but smile. He at least hadn't missed this milestone. "Is that it? Did her mouth taste like cigarette ash or something?"
"No. The kiss was nice," he smiled softly. "It's when…it got kinda handsy."
"Who got handsy?"
"It wasn't her, it was me."
"You got handsy?" Tony asked incredulously.
"NO! I'm not explaining this well," he said, rubbing his eyes.
Thank God, Tony thought. He really didn't want to have to have that conversation, even if he had poked fun at 'using protection' the other night it's not like he had meant it. If there was one thing Tony was sure of, it was his son's...inactivity...in that particular subject. "What was the problem? You didn't want…to go further? Which is what you should not do, by the way. I was kidding about that protection thing. You're way too young." He could hear the hypocrisy bell ringing in his head, but he didn't want his son to make the same mistakes he did. He was way too young to get involved in things that his not fully-developed mind had no business getting into yet.
"I did a little bit…" he looked at Tony. His father wasn't pushing him, his face was patient. This was probably why Peter kept going. "She wanted more…but I got flashbacks."
"Flashbacks?" Tony felt something uncomfortable shifting in his gut.
Peter sighed. This was it, there was no turning back from the past now. He got this far, he may as well lay it all out. "When I was little, I was molested by someone who I thought was my friend."
The silence that followed almost suffocated Peter.
As if Tony didn't quite hear him, he said, "What."
It didn't sound like a question, Peter realised. "I met him in a library. He told me I could call him Skip.
"I didn't have many friends and then suddenly there's this high school senior who had an interest in what I was saying. It was nice to talk to someone who was listening, especially when I talked about science. He nicknamed me Einstein." The name left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Eventually, I invited him over to have dinner with my aunt and uncle. They took a liking to him and he became my babysitter."
Tony felt as if he would physically be sick. The only thing that prevented him from upending his lunch was the fact that he wanted to hear what his son had to say.
Peter continued, lost in memories he thought he had long since buried. "One day, things changed. Aunt May had to drop me off at his place. His mom was always working." Recalling the events had started to make him nauseous. "He said he wanted to 'conduct an experiment'," Peter's voice shook. He gulped down the lump threatening to bring out his tears. He lost in the end. The tremor in his voice turned into a full-blown sob when he could no longer subdue the stress of the phone call that brought everything back. "I should've said something, but I was just so scared." Peter rubbed his eyes with his palms, trying desperately to stop the break-down in front of his mentor. "I'm sorry," Peter's voice cracked as he wiped his tears. "I know you didn't invite me for this."
Tony felt something inside him snap. "No, Peter. Don't apologise, especially for something that wasn't in any way your fault. You were only a child." He wanted to reach out to the kid, but they hadn't talked much about physical boundaries and he especially didn't want to do anything to upset him now.
Screw it. His kid was hurting and he couldn't damn well do nothing. Slowly, Tony wrapped an arm around Peter, waiting to see if he would recoil. Surprisingly, he didn't and instantly melted onto his side, drooping his weight against Tony's, head falling on his chest.
They sat there for some moments, until Peter was able to collect himself.
Tony asked, "How long did this go on for?"
"A couple of months," Peter said, straightening back up. "I told Ned when I just couldn't see a way out anymore. He told me it wasn't normal and that Skip didn't sound like a good friend. He urged me to tell May and Ben. And I did. I never saw Skip again."
"Good," Tony said quickly. His mind, however, dwelled on the words, couldn't see a way out. He wanted to say something else, but the sound of Peter's phone ringing cut him off.
"It's Aunt May." He answered the call with as much normalcy as he could muster. "Hey. Yeah, I'm here…now? Okay." He hung up. "She needs me to come home. She says sorry to cut the time short."
"It's okay, Pete. Happy will be waiting for you downstairs." Peter nodded and they both stood. Tony placed gentle hands on his shoulders. "Hey, I can't imagine how hard that must've been for you to talk about. Thank you for sharing that part of your past with me." Peter could only nod as he headed to the lift. "Just one more thing – what was his name again? Skip?"
"Sort of. His actual name is Steven Westcott."
"Mm. Go on, your aunt is waiting."
With a final wave Peter left the kitchen area.
Tony took a deep breath, trying to find some 'zen' within him, as Vision once advised him from a book he read about the art of relaxing your aura or some nonsense.
But this time, he couldn't. His rage was boiling. Zen was shoved into a bottle and defenestrated.
Tony rushed to his lab and called out, "FRIDAY."
"Yes, boss."
"I need you to look into every detail of this Steven Westcott – his address, his job, his social security number. Every person he has ever come across, I want to know about it."
"Yes, sir. What would you like to do with this information?"
"I'll decide when I'm not surrounded by my weapons."
TBC
AN: Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to wash my hands with bleach.
Source material: marvunapp .com (slash) Appendix/westcott. h t m
P.S. I have no excuse for Peter singing a TS song. It just came on when I was writing the scene.
P.P.S. For the date, I drew a random name out of the hat of Peter's many love interests in the comics. He got around, boii. (Like father like son, I should say.)
P.P.P.S. That being said, I hope you liked my take on Gwen.
P.P.P.P.S. I still have Captain Planet on VHS.
