A/N: Ooooookay, my peeps. Here we go!
Again, I did the best I could to research this thing within an inch of its life. Please be gracious to me for any errors, and do read the notes at the end! I love you all and thank you to each and every one of you for reading this fic!
Special thanks to Bean_reads_fanfic for letting me talk through all of this!
….
"Hey, there he is!" Tony calls when he sees Peter approach towards the entry way.
"Sorry, I'm late. I swear, they're finding new ways to drag these meetings out just to- "
The millionaire pauses, handing his hat and cloak to one of the maid's who greets him at the door as his eyes catch Peter's expression, the satchel over the boy's shoulder and the fact that he's wearing the shiny black oxfords he had just gifted him the day prior.
Jarvis rounds the corner just then, looking more than a little weary.
"I tried to stop him, sir, but - "
"Hang on," Tony interrupts, grabbing for Peter's arm before he can bypass him. "Alright, start talking. What's set you off? I'm gone for five hours and things are falling apart?"
The boy refuses to meet his eyes, but his brows fight to stay set in place when he hears the apparent worry in his guardian's tone.
"I'm all better now," Peter replies, "It's high time I got back to work, Mr. Stark."
Pulling out of Tony's grip, he heads straight for the giant double doors.
The millionaire whirls around, arms outstretched as he tries to process the teenager's behavior. "Uh, I thought we had agreed that I would be the one deciding when you-Wait! Kid, you don't even have a new job set up yet!" he says.
Peter stops and turns back to his guardian, "I don't need a new job, sir. The old one's just fine."
"No."
"I've made up my- "
"No. No. No, I said no."
Peter bites down so hard on his cheek he tastes the blood in his mouth before he makes another attempt at defying the older man, "I'm going back-"
"Back to what!?" Tony shouts, skin burning beneath his collar as flashes of Peter lying in his own filth comes barreling back to the forefront of his thoughts, "Cause, you know, I'm just trying to figure this out-so we're on the same page…Was it the endless punches to the face or the cane whupping your ass to bleeding that's made this ludicrous idea suddenly so appealing?"
Peter's eyes well up, keeping everything at bay and grinding his teeth before flying back to the door.
"You're not going back to Toomes!" Tony says, rushing to stop him. "This isn't up for discussion."
"It's better this way," Peter says. "-let's just go back to what it was, Mr. Stark…where I-I-I bake a-a-and you come to see me every morning..."
Tony feels a lump in his throat.
The boy wants normal...something grounding...even if it was hell itself…
Has he not been providing that?
"Kiddie, Toomes can't take you back."
Peter's eyebrows knit together as they process the information, flattening back down with nostrils flaring when the puzzle piece snaps into place.
"You paid him…?"
"Technically, I-"
"So, you bought me…but-"Peter's voice hitches, stomach churning.
He doesn't want me anymore. He doesn't want me anymore. He doesn't-
"Pete, you know that's not it...Listen, it was the only way I could make sure he'd never hurt you again."
"And Mr. Toomes? H-he just...took the money?" Peter asked with voice cracking at the end.
Tony holds back a curse as he realizes the boy's hurt goes far deeper than the rather uncouth transaction between the men.
Somewhere in his heart, Peter wants to believe that even Toomes might have cared for him, even if it was never once expressed.
Affection starved…
"He didn't deserve you."
Peter goes quiet at this, his jaw moving from side to side as he wars with the comment before ignoring it.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark...it's all I know..."
"Kid, please...don't make me be the bad guy, here. Come on," Tony begs. "Just put your bag down and stay put, alright? We'll talk it all out over some leftover cake in the ice box,"
"I'm going, sir...I'm sorry."
The moment Peter tries to step out of the grand doors, the older man is grabbing for his wrist, holding himself back in every way he can to avoid the boy feeling overpowered by the action.
His efforts are rendered useless as Peter jerks backwards like a fox in a trap.
"Hey-hey-hey. Think it through, half-pint,"
"Let me go!"
"I'm sorry, buddy. I can't. I'm involved now."
"You're not my dad! You're not my dad!"
"Yep-ow-hey-I know. Just hang on a sec-"
"Get off me!"
"Alright, this isn't working. Sorry about this kid," Tony says as he throws the boy over his shoulder and drags all of the lanky teen back into the house, slamming the door shut behind him with his foot and heading for Peter's bedroom.
"Let me go!" Peter screams as his palms search for leverage against Tony's back.
Jarvis enters the entryway just then, hands reaching out to come to his master's aid but quite unsure of how to proceed. "Sir-"
"Jarvis, have the staff guard the doors!" Tony says with a wheeze, doing his best to pin down flying arms and legs. "And we're gonna need that cake later on, so pull it out while you're at it."
The valet nods with reluctance, arms still holding out to aid for a moment before making haste in following the order.
"Put me down!" Peter's voice continues echoing down the hall.
"I will…after we get you back upstairs." Tony doesn't miss how weak Peter's fight against him is…as if his heart isn't really in it. Whatever was going on, the millionaire clings to the hope that he can still convince the boy to stay put.
As they reach the room, Peter jostles himself backwards when Tony brings his feet back to the floor.
"I saw the ticket!" the teen lashes out, "I-I-I know you wrote to my Aunt May! I know that you're trying to send me away...and that you don't-"
Tony can't believe what he's hearing.
He's stunned that the kid has already seen the ticket, and quite frankly, he should probably feel a sense of remorse for hiding it for this long, apart from one bewildering fact:
Peter thinks it's to throw him away.
"Don't what?" Tony interrupts, holding up a firm finger to cut the teen off. His dark eyes fix on him, wide and intense. A few veins pop out near his temple as he takes slow steps towards his charge. "Don't what!?"
Peter's lip quivers, his gaze falling to the Persian rug beneath his feet and then to the window as he turns away from Tony.
Thin shoulders begin to shake as a strangled sound seeps out through his clenched teeth.
He doesn't want me. He doesn't want me... doesn't love me like I love him.
Tony slowly grabs for the teenager's arms, attempting to turn him back around but losing his balance a bit when Peter whirls into his chest all on his own.
The kid grips around his waist like a vise. It hurts, but he's not about to wriggle out of it.
"Don't send me away," Peter whimpers, "I'll do anything you say, Mr. Stark. I can work-"
"Hey-Hey-Pete-"
"I'll be your manservant! You can treat me like the other tenants-"
Tony rolls his eyes. Frustration melting away as he begins to understand where this ridiculous tangled web may have started.
He deals with the biggest snag first, hoping the rest of it unravels in doing so. "Alright. Stop for a second. First off, I want you to explain to me, how exactly, you concluded that I wanted rid of you," he says, pulling Peter back and guiding him to sit on the bed.
The teenager wipes his nose with his sleeve, "The ticket," he replies in a tone that wonders why Tony even needs further explanation, "-and then I saw the unfinished letter you wrote for me- "
"Which was unfinished for a reason," Tony cuts him off, catching the fresh tears on both sides of the boy's face as sobs of relief wrack his thin frame.
"Ah, kid."
The millionaire pinches the bridge of his nose and snickers, "What am I going to do with you?"
He puts an arm over him and feels the boy lean in to his hold, relieved to feel a bit of the tension fade away.
"They need me back in New York for a little while. Top Secret stuff not meant for your innocent ears," Tony says into Peter's hair, "I had originally planned to try and coax you to come along for the ride…and then I remembered your aunt…and I had to write her, discussing your…living arrangements."
He waits for Peter to nod before continuing.
"Kid…if you would brave the ocean with me…I was really hoping I could convince her to…let me…"
Peter turns to stand, brown eyes wider than the wheels of the millionaire's Delauney-Belleville as he waits for more.
Tony falters for a moment, dusting off his hands for no reason at all. "I mean, I guess I haven't even asked if that's something you'd want."
"Ask me," Peter says, with arms flat at his sides, fingers gripping tightly to his tweed trousers. "Please, ask me."
Tony's lips twitch, failing to keep a smile at bay when he sees the kid standing there like a young pup awaiting a treat.
"Would you want to-"
The door opens just then; Jarvis carries an apology on his countenance as he announces the man standing directly behind him. "A Mr. Obadiah Stane is here to see you, sir.," he says, moving aside to let the man in.
Tony rises from the bed and moves to greet the refined character entering in to the room; Peter automatically steps behind him and bows his head a bit to show his respect to the stranger.
"Well, well, well! He does still exist!" Obadiah says, grabbing Tony's shoulders and slapping his back.
The millionaire returns the informal greeting, taken aback by the surprise visitor and glancing back in Peter's direction. "Obi, wow…It's great to see you, really. What brings you all the way to Southampton?"
"Well, somebody had to come down and convince you not to throw Stark Industries down the toilet-"
"That's-I'm not-" Tony interjects, "Have you met my-"
He grabs gently for Peter's arms and pulls the boy to him, squeezing his shoulders as a form of apology when no title comes to his lips. "This is…Peter. Peter Parker."
The way Obadiah stares at him makes the boy's skin crawl. He studies the big man up and down, examining his bald head, gray beard, pin-striped suit, rings adorning nearly every appendage, and the cigar protruding from his lips…which are currently grinning at him in amusement.
"G-good evening, sir," he tries, eyes burning when the stranger blows a puff of smoke towards his face.
"So, you're the Peter I've heard so much about," Obadiah says, not missing Tony's expression upon hearing that his charge has already been discussed elsewhere.
"You're what…twelve?" he continues.
"I'm fifteen, sir," Peter says quickly, eager to prove himself.
"Fifteen!" Obadiah's eyes grow wide as he stares back at Tony, leaning in to lift the boy's chin. "Why, you're practically a grown man. When they told me Tony had taken in a child-"
"He is a child," Tony interrupts, pulling at Peter instinctively.
Obadiah gives a quiet laugh, bringing his cigar down to his side as he scans the pair, "They also said you were quite protective of him…I guess they got that part right."
Tony scoffs and folds his arms to his chest, frustration rising when his business partner returns his hand to Peter's shoulder.
"Good strong lads like this are always eager to work and prove themselves. I'm sure he's more than ready to spread those wings, right, boy?"
Peter nods and straightens, turning to Tony and back to Obadiah. "Y-Yes, sir," he says, blinking and swallowing a few times.
"Hey, buddy," Tony says to the teen, never taking his eyes off the gray bearded man, "Why don't you do me a favor and go downstairs and cut me up a piece of that leftover cake, alright?"
Peter searches Tony's face. Knowing he was being shielded somehow, but not wanting to argue, when his guardian's reputation could be put at risk. "Yes, sir," he replies in obedience, lingering for just a moment longer before quietly slipping out the door.
The moment he does, Tony whirls around to the business man, pointing his finger sharply at the door. "You have no idea what kind of hell that kid's been through," he says in a loud whisper.
Obadiah brings his hands up to steady the man, voice remaining even and collected.
"I get it. Calm yourself down and listen…I'm sorry, alright?" he starts, "I was just trying to wrap my head around the rather drastic decisions you've made involving this boy."
"Because he's poor."
"Because he's a dime a dozen! Come on, Tony! This is beyond absurd and you know it! They're riddling the streets right now as we speak, many of them far more vulnerable and younger than this one."
"Because that's always been a major concern of yours, right?" Tony quips, running a hand through his hair and moving to hang Peter's satchel back on the coat rack attached to the wall.
"I wanna know why this kid is special enough to become Tony Stark's ward." Obadiah continues to pry, taking another puff of his cigar.
"Not my ward…"
"What? I was told-"
"My son…" Tony interrupts. "I guess your elitist's gossip did get some things mixed up in the telling."
The laughter that follows is cold and harsh, the sound alone mocking such a notion.
And then there's only silence.
It's a silence intended to darken the mood…to turn the atmosphere towards a specific direction and purpose.
"Listen to me," Obadiah murmurs, wrapping a firm arm around the millionaire and pulling him close. He pokes a finger to Tony's chest before continuing, "Now you know…that I know, more than anyone, how much you still ache inside…That festering daddy instinct never really goes away, does it."
Tony turns his head as far as it will go to keep Obadiah from staring into the depths of his soul, but the man searches for the open windows anyway, only stopping when he achieves breaking into them.
"That boy downstairs isn't your baby, Tony," Obadiah continues, "And he never will be."
The comment is enough to push Tony out of his paralyzed state, tossing the taller man's arm away from him, he takes two steps towards the door.
"You know, it's honestly a relief to hear you say that? Cause you actually watched me bury my baby into the ground…and if you thought this kid was him-well you can see how I might be a little bit concerned for your mental state."
"That quick tongue of yours will be the death of you one day," Obadiah replies, walking to the giant window and looking out towards the perfectly kept landscape. "What do you plan to do about the public eye? Nobody's going to believe your story. Have you given any thought to what a potential scandal this could become?"
Tony is relieved to hear questions he has solid answers to, jumping on them right away before Obadiah can carry it any further. "I've got it all lined up. In four short days, I have a meeting with some of the most richest and influential people in the world, second only to me, of course," he explains, "I plan to persuade them to not only pool our efforts and resources towards preventing this world war that's nearly upon us, but also to see for themselves just how trustworthy and honest the boy is. If we can get their tongues wagging in a positive way, then we won't have anything to worry about…and I know they'll fall in love with him, Obi.
"Just like you did."
"Yeah…just like I did."
Obadiah lets out a soft groan as he rubs aggressive fingers over his temples. "Well, you know where I stand in all of it. I don't want to see your father's work burn to the ground…but its clear you've made up your mind." Placing the cigar back in his mouth, he gives a halfhearted farewell before turning to leave.
"Would it kill you to give him a chance, Obi? Please, for me?" Tony gives a last-ditch effort, feeling his hands shake as he pins them behind his back.
More silence follows until the taller man finally speaks.
"Alright, Tony. You win this round," is all he says as he exits the room.
"Goodnight, Obi." Tony replies, eyeing the hanging satchel again prior to making his way back down to Peter.
"Where's the kid?" the millionaire asks a few minutes later when he's met with his butler standing in the kitchen instead.
Jarvis continues on in his current task as he offers the explanation. "He gathered the cake and retreated to the horse barn, sir." he says, smiling as he opens one of the many drawers on the far side of the kitchen.
Tony gives his own side smile as well, plunging his hands into his pockets and giving a nod.
The valet bridges the gap between them, holding a pair of utensils in his grasp.
"Only, he's forgotten the silverware. Perhaps you would like to deliver them, sir?"
They both know what it implies and Tony is grateful any sentiment is left unsaid.
"Thank you, Jarvis,"
"You are most welcome, sir."
"Now give yourself the rest of the night off."
"Sir, I don't think that's really-"
"Ah! No arguing with your employer. Sleep well, Jarvis!" Tony calls, rounding the corner and heading straight for his boy.
He reaches the enormous barn in not time at all, pleased to hear Peter's rambunctious hollering even before stepping inside.
He cherishes the sight of the teenager climbing up the long ladder above with a rope between his teeth, reaching the platform near the ceiling and hooking one of his bare feet into the loop at the end of the rope.
The moment he sees Tony directly below him in the bright light of the moon, he gives a joyful laugh that resonates off the tall walls. "Come on, Mr. Stark! You know you wanna join me!" he shouts, chest heaving up and down from exertion.
Tony leans his back against a saddle rack, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Naah, I'm all good here, half-pint. I made that swing just for you. You go on ahead," he calls back, chuckling when Peter takes no time at all in flying off the edge, hollering at the top of his lungs as the rope swings him all the way to the other side of the barn and back.
On the second pass, Peter arches his back and lets the force of the action whirl him around with ease, letting one of his hands fly free as he lets it continue to glide him around the open space.
"Hey, watch what you're doing, kid. You better have a good grip on that rope," Tony warns, moving to set the forks he's brought down next to the abandoned dessert.
Peter loves the paternal notes in his guardian's tone so much that on the final pass he unhooks his foot from the loop and throws himself into a black flip, gracefully landing on his feet.
"That's not funny!" Tony shouts, clutching at his heart as Peter runs to embrace him.
"No. Nope. I'm not rewarding that bad behavior," the millionaire continues, laughing when Peter continues to try and burrow a way into his arms.
Tony caves in no time at all, eventually running his knuckles vigorously into the boy's curls. "You'll give your old man a heart attack," he says. It comes out so naturally that the awkward doesn't hit until seconds later. Peter's face is still tucked into his shoulder, neither of them speak as they stand still. A horse whinnies and stamps in its stall, startling them both from their frozen state.
"Let's-uh- dig in to that cake," Tony says at last, pulling away and heading for the distraction.
"Yeah, cake," Peter adds, erasing the goosebumps from his arms.
They cut into the rich chocolate treat with their forks, shoveling it into their mouths without a hint of propriety. There's only two bites left when Tony finds the courage he needs.
"You wanna be my kid?" he blurts out, cringing even as it falls from his lips, "I mean, let me adopt you."
Peter giggles at Tony's struggles, taking his final piece of cake and nodding, "Yesh," he says with his mouth full. And that concludes their much-needed talk.
…
April 10th, 1912
The morning sun beams brightly down into the open doors of the barn's loft. Peter lies in a thick bed of straw, staring up at the rafters, deep in thought. He can hear the tenants shuffling the Timothy hay into stalls below as Tony's many horses nicker and whinny in delight. He knows he's going to miss that sound along with a great many other things at Stark Manor.
Another sinking feeling settles in his gut and he clutches around his middle.
Today's the day.
What if I can't do it?
What if I freak out?
What if…What if…What if…
"Hey, bud," a sleepy voice says beside him, "Oh, please, tell me you slept."
Peter turns to look at Tony, dark circles under his eyes giving him away, "Y-Yeah. Some."
The millionaire moans and rubs his hands over his face. "Kiiiiid, Why didn't you wake me up?"
He had been so sure Peter had drifted in to a deep sleep after the reassurance he had given the night before.
"They say she's unsinkable," he had told him just before tickling the boy's nose with a piece of straw. Sure, he didn't believe it. The remark was absurd, but if it could help his kid sleep a bit better, then that was all he really cares about.
He lifts himself up and stretches, glancing around the entirety of the massive barn. He sees a worker turn to look up in his direction with a shocked expression.
"Good morning, Mr. Hughes," he calls down.
The man tips his hat, quickly tucking it under his arm when he identifies who's giving the greeting.
"Mr. Stark, sir! Are you quite alright?" he replies, "How did you get up there?"
Tony rubs the kinks from his neck with a yawn, "I climbed…kid's idea for our last night here…though my body's paying for it now," he says, dusting pieces of straw from his hair.
When he turns back to Peter the sight is nothing short of heartbreaking.
The boy lies rigid and unmoving, and Tony wonders if he's going to have to be more forceful in getting him down from the loft.
"You can do this, Pete," he murmurs, patting the boy's leg and reaching for his arm to pull him up. "Come on…Come on."
Peter allows himself to be manhandled into a sitting position, rubbing his numbing fingers in the hopes that they don't curl into fists like they normally do when he panics.
"Breathe," Tony coaxes, and Peter nods, inhaling through his nose and exhaling a few times before the stinging sensation goes away.
A little more time and they make it to Tony's washroom, dressing in the finest clothes the millionaire owns in preparation of their arrival on the luxury ship.
The older man feels a bit nauseated to think of parading his son-to-be around like a blooming peacock to be examined.
A small price to pay.
Just a few short days to endure for a lifetime of paternal bliss.
A heavy sigh escapes as he reaches for the pomade on the shelf, lathering the greasy substance into his palms and coating it well into Peter's curls.
"Ow," the teenager whines, feeling his hair submitting to the product and hating every bit of the experience.
"Sorry kid," Tony says with a hint of amusement, "I know this is a whole new experience…and it doesn't help that we're in a rush, to boot."
He puts a comb between his teeth as he finishes getting the boy's hair to straighten back, eventually running the tool through the stubborn curls until they're plastered to his scalp.
The snickers from his guardian make Peter blush profusely, "I look stupid, don't I?" he mumbles out through pouty lips, which only makes Tony laugh more.
"No. Adorable fits better," he replies, standing back to look at his handy work. "Alright. You're all set. Let's make sure Jarvis is ready to head 'em up and move 'em out."
"Before we go…" Peter falters, "May I see what's behind the wall?
"What wall?"
"You know…" the boy continues, pointing into the other room where Pepper's picture used to be before it was packed away into the car.
Tony looks in the same direction and then back to Peter with eyes narrowing, "You snooping around my room, half pint?" he asks.
Peter shakes his head, "I'm Sorry, it's just that I happened to stumble on it that day I found the ticket. I was dusting your wife…I mean the painting of your wife…I mean Mrs. Sta-"
"Buddy, relax. I got it." Tony says with a wave of his hand, motioning for the boy to continue.
"I saw the door…a-a-and that it needed a key…so can I see inside?"
"No."
"Is it a secret lair?"
"No."
"A vault full of money?"
"Already got enough of that."
"A treasure chest?"
"You've read to many books, kiddie," Tony sighs, "I'll tell you what…When we come back here next time…as father and son…I'll show you everything. Deal?" He asks, bringing his hand out for the boy to shake.
Peter hesitates for a moment, a little disappointed but thrilled to hear the word 'son' so easily rolling off the millionaire's tongue.
He grips it tightly and smiles, feeling more and more ready for this as the time approaches.
"Let's go," he says, and he ignores the jitters that follow.
….
When Tony and Peter step out of their buggy upon arrival to Southampton's docks, they stare up at the phenomenon floating above them like it's something straight out of a dream.
Peter can't help but question his reality in that very moment. He's never seen anything like it in all of his young life.
The Titanic is so large, that it nearly blocks all of the sun's rays, shading the sea of people that stand beside it, as they prepare to either board or bid farewell to their loved ones.
"She's…She's massive, Mr. Stark!"
"I told you, kid! You've got nothing to worry about!"
A few small children race between them just then, and soon they're brushing shoulders with ladies with oversized hats and regal men who seem to almost stare in a threatened fashion when Tony struts by. Peter is suddenly reminded of the fact that this man he clings to is one of the richest people in the entire world. The sinking feeling comes back with a vengeance.
"Look at me" Tony says, pulling the teen from his thoughts. "You can do this."
Peter looks around at all of the pocket watches…the top hats…the feathers and fur…the canes…
"Don't look at them. Look at me," the older man repeats, placing his hand on the side of the boy's neck.
"Ready?"
"R-Ready."
And with that, they climb aboard the grandest ship in the entirety of the world, eager for the many possibilities ahead of them, impatient to legally be the family that they already are, and throwing themselves into absolute uncertainty.
...
A/N: Okay, So there was a LOOOOOT of research done for this chapter. I found out that official adoption did not start until 1927. There were legal rights and contracts, but nothing like today!
Some of you have expressed that Peter should be younger if Tony treats him as he does in this time era, but I am choosing to dance around that. I like Peter where he's at, so I really hope that Obadiah kind of addressed the issue well enough and that you'll be content that Tony has a right to parent him even if he is old enough to take care of himself. Remember, he has already worked for Toomes and Tony's the one choosing to give the kid his childhood back.
I hope I addressed all the things people had concerns on. I will try my hardest to continue keeping this fic as accurate as possible. Its very important to me.
Please leave a comment/review and again, Thank you sooooo much!