I can't thank you guys enough for all of the kind reviews, follows and favorites! I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story! :)

I've had several questions about Peter and whether or not he'll become Spider-Man in this story. Without giving too much away, the answer to that question is that I don't believe I could do Peter's character justice by taking away something that defines him as much as Spider-Man does. That's a long way of saying yes, but it will be awhile before we get to that point. ;)

Tony heaved out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he shuffled down the hall towards the bedroom, taking one final glance at the kid over his shoulder as he opened the door.

Pepper, who'd gone to bed over an hour ago, rolled over as he stepped into the room. "Is he finally asleep?"

"I hope so," Tony answered as he sat down heavily onto the bed. "I waited until he stopped sniffling, at least. He's got a death grip on that polar bear though. We might be looking at a completely different animal in the morning."

Tony wasn't sure how long they'd stood there in that cemetery while the kid sobbed—and slobbered—against his chest, but by the time Peter was able to cry himself out and they made their way back to the hotel, it was nearly dinner time. Not surprisingly, Peter managed to only pick at his food during dinner, and then proceeded to refuse every single suggestion for distraction that Tony and Pepper tried to make.

In the end—with much cajoling—he finally agreed to watch Star Wars again, but only if Tony sat next to him. Likely exhausted from the events of the day, he ended up falling asleep against Tony's arm about two-thirds of the way through the movie, but woke back up and started crying all over again when Tony tried to transfer him to his bed. This led to almost two hours of shushing and comforting until Tony could get him back to sleep.

"It's gotta be hard on the kid, don't you think?" Pepper lamented. "It's just gonna take some time."

"Yeah, I guess," Tony replied, rolling his eyes as his phone buzzed in his pocket. "What's up, JARVIS? It's been a long day, and I'm tired—"

"Thought you ought to know, sir," JARVIS interrupted. "You asked me to inform you of any news regarding General Ross."

"Yeah, yeah, I guess I did," mumbled Tony, scrubbing at his face. "What's the old bastard up to now?"

"He and his squadron are currently dealing with a developing crisis situation in Harlem."

Tony's eyebrows shot up as he whirled around to look out the window, seeing nothing save for the normal late-night lights of the city. "Ah, that's a lot closer than I like him being, JARVIS. What's going on?"

"Apparently your 'disgruntled, rage-mongering scientist' has turned up again, sir. And it appears that this time he's brought a friend."

"He just turned up… in Harlem, of all places?" Tony demanded, his heart rate increasing with every word. "I thought they were down in Virginia? JARVIS, Harlem is practically just down the goddamn street from here!"

"Communications between General Ross and his forces have been mainly limited to their private military channels, sir, but I've been able to compile some information from the influx of 911 calls in the area. People are describing two large, monster-like creatures fighting each other. One orange-ish and one green. To put it bluntly, sir, they are going bonkers."

"So now we have not one, but two disgruntled, rage-mongering scientists fighting right in our backyard? Along with a full squadron of black op, trigger-happy zombie grunts?" Tony snapped, as if JARVIS himself had personally invited the monsters to start fighting. He inhaled a shaky breath, willing his heart to stop thudding in his chest as he looked over at Pepper, who was gaping back at him in confusion.

"It appears so, sir. Although I am doubtful that Ross's soldiers are in fact, zombies."

"Um," Tony stammered. He pointed with a shaky hand to Pepper's phone sitting on the bedside table. "Call for the plane. I want to get the kid out of here as soon as possible. Like, right now!"

"Okay, I'm on it," Pepper replied, sliding out of bed and grabbing her phone.

"Then get Rhodey on the phone," barked Tony. "I want him to come with the plane. And tell him to bring his suit." Why didn't I bring my suit, damn it? I'm never leaving the house without it again!

"Tony, the jet's being fueled now," Pepper said a minute later as she set her phone back down. She reached for her suitcase to start packing up. "It'll be here in about two hours. Colonel Rhodes will be arriving with the plane, and you need to calm down a little or you'll end up scaring the kid!"

Nodding, Tony flipped on the overhead light and grabbed his own suitcase, haphazardly tossing things in as he tried to take deep breaths. It'd been a long time since he'd been this overwhelmed with fear, and that realization alone was only making it worse.

"JARVIS, is the route from here to the airport clear?" Tony demanded. "I don't want the kid to know what's going on."

"The fighting appears to be confined to Harlem, sir," replied JARVIS. "I will of course continue to monitor the situation."

"Yeah, okay," Tony muttered as he zipped his suitcase closed, draping the garment bag with his and Peter's suits over the top.

"Is Happy awake yet?" he demanded, whirling around to look at Pepper.

"Why would he be awake, Tony? It's the middle of the night!" Pepper retorted as she finished tying her hair back into a ponytail. Tony's jaw clenched and he cocked his head, causing her to back away slightly. "I'll call him, okay? You just… worry about the kid."

But that's the problem; I'm too fucking worried about the kid. What the hell is wrong with me? Tony thought, shooting Pepper what he hoped was a grateful look as he exited the bedroom. He paused in the hallway halfway to Peter's bed, his hand on his chest, cupping his arc reactor. It was glowing its bluish-white glow like it always did, and the slight hum it always emanated was still there, so that obviously wasn't the problem.

Tony leaned against the wall, inhaling as deep a breath as he could and letting it slowly out. He hadn't been this worked up since he woke up in that goddamn freezing cold cave back in Afghanistan with Yinsen's clunky electromagnet wedged into his chest wall, tethered to a fucking car battery so he could be tortured and coerced into building a weapon for a bunch of terrorists.

Get ahold of yourself, Stark! You're fucking Iron Man, not some pansy-ass who's scared of monsters! And it surely wouldn't do the kid any good to wake him up with Tony looking like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Happy's packing up, then he'll bring the car around to the side entrance. I've taken care of the checkout, too," Pepper said, stepping into the hallway with her suitcase in tow. She looked past Tony over at Peter, still asleep on his little bed. "Are you gonna wake him up?"

"Yeah," Tony croaked, inhaling another deep breath. "Just trying not to scare him, like you said."

"He won't be scared unless you give him reason to be," Pepper whispered. "You don't need to tell him what's going on, Tony."

"Yeah, I know," replied Tony. Wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow, Tony pushed himself off of the wall and crossed the living room over to Peter's bed. He looked so innocent and small, lying there with his eyes squeezed closed and hugging his polar bear. Tony knelt down next to him, carefully brushing an errant curl from the boy's forehead. Peter jumped at the touch, yelping.

"It's okay, kid, it's just me," Tony soothed, patting Peter's head. "No need to be scared."

Peter blinked, rubbing at his red, puffy eyes with a balled up fist. "Still dark, Mr. Stark?" he mumbled. "Why's still dark out?"

"I'm sorry to wake ya, kid," Tony said gently. "I really am. But we need to get going."

"S' tired!" Peter whined, burrowing down into his blankets. "Don' wanna ge' up!"

"Look, kid, I don't really wanna be awake right now either," Tony said, which was really only partially true. He'd never told anyone this, not even Pepper, but a big part of the reason why he would often go without sleep for days on end was that more often than not, the first thing he'd see when he closed his eyes was that goddamn cave in Afghanistan. And reliving his torture over and over again in his nightmares was not something he ever looked forward to.

Not to mention the fact that the man who was supposed to be his surrogate father figure was the one ultimately responsible for Tony being captured in the first place.

"C'mon, Peter," Tony said, his tone firm but still gentle as he untangled the boy from his covers. "You can go back to sleep on the plane if you want, but I need you to get up now."

"But, why?" Peter asked, a bit more awake now. "You said you'd take me to get ice cream tomorrow."

Oh yeah. While Peter had been crying earlier, Tony had tried to distract him by asking him some questions about his favorite things. He'd learned that Peter's favorite colors were red, blue, and grey, his favorite Star Wars character was Obi-Wan Kenobi—both versions, whatever that meant—and his favorite flavor of ice cream was peppermint.

"Listen, kid. I'm sorry, but we need to get going right now, and that's all I'm gonna tell you about it. But I will promise you this. If you get your little behind out of that bed right now and get dressed so we can get out of here, there will be plenty of peppermint ice cream at my house in Malibu for you. Capiche?"

Peter stuck out his bottom lip as he pushed himself up on his elbow. "Capiche."

"That's a good kid," Tony muttered, ruffling Peter's messy hair as he helped him out of his pajama shirt. He made a mental note to schedule a haircut for him once they got back to Malibu. Pepper had said she adored Peter's curls, but Tony highly doubted they were just supposed to hang in front of the kid's eyes like they were now.

They'd just managed to get Peter dressed and standing somewhat upright when there was a knock at the door. Pepper opened it to find a very disgruntled-looking Happy, yawning and clutching his suitcase. One of the hotel's luggage carts stood beside him.

"Ready, boss," he grunted. "Should I bother asking why we're leaving for the airport at one in the morning?"

"Nope!" both Pepper and Tony said simultaneously.

"Thought so," grumbled Happy.

"And whatever you do, do not mention anything about Harlem," Tony whispered to Happy, handing him the shopping bag full of Peter's Legos.

"Why? What's going on in Harlem?" Happy asked.

"Nothing!" bellowed Tony and Pepper at the same time. Tony shot a pointed glance at Peter, who was holding George and staring off into space, blissfully unaware of the conversation.

Happy rolled his eyes, but thankfully kept his mouth shut as they packed up the car. Being that it was the middle of the night the traffic on the way to the airport was minimal, and they ended up arriving at the hangar about twenty minutes before the plane arrived, carrying an exhausted and cranky Rhodey. After a quick fuel top-off, they took off for California around 3am. Peter managed to stay awake for the entire car ride and takeoff, but his eyelids started drooping almost as soon as the plane leveled off. It didn't take too much encouragement from Tony for Peter to curl up on the seat next to him and go back to sleep.

"Now," Rhodes said from across the aisle, his narrowed eyes flicking back and forth between Tony and Peter. Happy was already snoring away in the back, and Pepper was taking advantage of the in-flight WiFi to catch up on some Stark Industries paperwork. "Care to let me in on what's going on?"

Glancing down at Peter to make sure he was asleep, Tony cocked his head. "Yeah. But first, a question. What's your old buddy Ross been up to lately?"

Rhodes blinked in surprise, giving Tony his what-the-hell-are-you-on-about-now stare. "C'mon, Tony. You know Thunderbolt's unit is off the books. Strictly EYES ONLY clearance. What makes you think that I know anything about what he's up to?"

"I'm not an idiot, Rhodey," Tony hissed. "I know he was in charge of that whole Gamma Bomb project, and I know it went horribly wrong somehow. But it's been five years since Banner disappeared, and now all of a sudden he shows up twice in the span of what, a week or so? Don't insult me by telling me that's just a coincidence."

Pursing his lips, Rhodes shook his head, looking down at Tony's hand resting protectively on Peter's shoulder. "You seem to have become awfully fond of this kid already. What's up with that?"

"Never mind that," Tony retorted, even as his fingers reflexively tightened their grip. "Just tell me what you know about Ross!"

"Tony, please!" Rhodes pleaded. "You know I'm not allowed to tell you anything! You don't have the proper clearance—"

"I used to design weapons for that fucker!" Tony snapped. "And I've never seen another military man so obsessed with building the perfect weapon. Not to mention his penchant for ass-kissing; I swear at least ninety percent of the politicos in D.C. owe him favors, and some of those aren't so small, either. So don't give me any of your damn excuses, Rhodey, 'cause you know I'll just find it out myself if I have to. This just saves me a bunch of time. And you of all people know how valuable my time is."

"Mmm," Peter whimpered in his sleep, shifting position so his head was resting on Tony's leg.

"Shh, it's okay, buddy," Tony whispered, running his hand along Peter's back. "Rhodey. Grab me a blanket from the overhead, will ya?"

"Sure," Rhodes said slowly, his eyebrows knitting together as he retrieved the woolen blanket from the overhead bin. He tossed it onto Tony's lap, sitting back down with a smirk. "Boy, you really have gone off the deep end for this kid. Haven't you?"

Tony shot him a sharp look as he carefully tucked the blanket around Peter's curled up form. "He's just a little kid, Rhodey. He doesn't have anyone else."

Rhodes let out a laugh, throwing up his hands. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with it!" he protested. "I just think it's funny is all. Who would've thought that all it would take for Tony Stark to show his vulnerable side would be a tiny, curly-haired kid from Queens who dressed up in an Iron Man costume?"

"Yeah, yeah, enough about me," Tony grumbled. "Just tell me what I want to know, and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the flight."

"Fat chance," muttered Rhodes. Sighing, he shook his head. "This could get me court-martialed, Tony. You understand that, don't you?"

"Who am I gonna tell?"

Rhodes hesitated for a few more seconds before leaning in towards Tony. "Fine. But I swear, Tony, if this ends my career, I'll never forgive you."

"This plane is more secure than Fort Knox," Tony assured him. "Isn't that right, JARVIS?"

"Right you are, sir," replied JARVIS.

"All right," Rhodes began. "You know ever since World War II that a lot of people have been… interested in replicating the work of Dr. Abraham Erskine—"

"Interested?" interrupted Tony. "More like obsessed."

"You could say obsessed," Rhodes agreed. "Russians, Nazis, hell, even us. Well, the Biotech Force-Enhancement project was part of Ross's attempt to replicate Erskine's work. He was tinkering with a formula to make soldiers immune to Gamma radiation when an experimental bomb detonated prematurely. One of the lead scientists on the project—"

"Banner," said Tony.

"Yeah, that's him. Banner got caught in the crossfire, so to speak, and ended up getting exposed to a massive amount of the radiation. It really should've killed him."

"But it didn't," Tony said.

"No, it didn't," said Rhodes. "Instead—"

"It turned him into a huge, green, rage-monster," stated Tony.

"When his heart rate gets above a certain point," Rhodes continued, glaring at Tony. "Look, if you're gonna keep interrupting me—"

"Just cut to the more recent stuff, will ya?" asked Tony. "I've already gotten the history lesson."

Rhodes huffed out a sharp breath as his glare grew sharper. "There's been some… concern… that Ross's involvement in this project hasn't exactly been beneficial to his health."

"Uh huh," said Tony. "And what does that mean, exactly?"

Leaning in even further, Rhodes lowered his voice. "Look. Some of the higher-ups are worried that Ross's desire to create the perfect weapon, or the perfect soldier, has evolved into an obsession that's quickly becoming unhealthy. But because of his high ranking, and the amount of ass-kissing he's done in the past, people are afraid to go after him."

"So instead, they just let him set not one, but two rage monsters loose in goddamn Harlem, of all places?" Tony demanded. "What the hell, Rhodey?"

"I'm not privy to the reason why they were in Harlem tonight, Tony," Rhodey admitted. "Or where the other 'rage monster' came from. I've told you all that I know."

Tony leaned back in the plush leather chair, absentmindedly running his hand along Peter's back over the blanket. "All right," he said softly. "Thanks, Rhodey. I appreciate it."

"There is one more thing," Rhodes said a couple minutes later. "I do know that once Banner reappeared, Ross ordered construction to resume on a super-secret prison, located out in the Atlantic somewhere off the coast of New York. It was originally being built during the Cold War to potentially house convicted American Communists, and was abandoned during the seventies due to fuel shortages and other budget cuts. But orders came in just a few weeks ago to pull it out of mothballs."

"Out in the Atlantic?" asked Tony, cocking an eyebrow. "As in, under the water? Submerged?"

"Completely submersible and undetectable by any currently known military or civilian tracking methods," Rhodes said grimly. "They call it the Raft."

"And who do you think he's planning to put there?" Tony asked.

Shrugging, Rhodes shook his head. "I suppose it'd be as good a place as any to hide a scientist who likes to transform into a huge green rage monster. Or even two of 'em, if it came to it."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Tony, gritting his teeth in disgust. "That sounds like something ole Ross would do."

"Now," said Rhodes. "Are you gonna tell me why I'm here, escorting you and the kid to Malibu when I'm supposed to be sleeping in my bed back in D.C.?"

"Just thought you'd appreciate the vacation," quipped Tony. "You work too hard. It's bad for your heart, ya know."

"Don't give me that, Tony. You're never concerned with my vacation status, much less the state of my heart. Now, tell me what's really going on. You owe me that much at least."

Tony dropped his head back against the headrest, wondering for a brief moment who in the hell had chosen the ugly, yellowish-beige color of the private jet's upholstery. Had it been him? He couldn't remember, but it absolutely was something that needed updating.

"After the fiasco down at Culver, I had JARVIS start keeping tabs on Ross. I wanted to be informed when he showed his ugly mug again." Tony drew in a deep breath, not wanting to reveal to Rhodey just how ridiculously scared he'd been. "When I heard he was in Harlem, and the rage monsters were fighting, well… I just didn't want the kid to be scared, ya know?" I need to rebuild that suitcase suit. Or something even smaller. I can't be caught empty-handed like that again.

"Mmm-hmm," said Rhodey, unconvinced. "Whatever, Tony. I highly doubt the kid would've even heard about it if you hadn't said anything."

"He doesn't know!" Tony hissed. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

Rhodes opened his mouth to retort, then thought the better of it, giving Tony a skeptical look instead. "Sure. So, I'm gonna catch some sleep now, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah, sure," Tony muttered, his mind already going in a thousand different directions. His left arm was bothering him, a remnant of being knocked out of the sky by one of Rhodey's fighters way back when. Tony wrapped his right hand around his left wrist, flexing and clenching his fingers until Peter whimpered again, shifting as his small hand grabbed a fistful of Tony's shirt.

"Shhh," Tony whispered, returning his palm to its place on the small of Peter's back. "It's okay, kid. It's okay."

Owing to the fact that the kid managed to sleep nearly the entire five-plus-hour flight, Peter was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed once the plane touched down in California. After saying goodbye to Rhodey, the drive from the airport to the Malibu house had his face—and George's—plastered to the backseat window, pointing out nearly every palm tree he could count.

"And it really never gets cold here, Mr. Stark?" he asked excitedly. "It never snows? That's so cool!"

"How is it cool if it never snows?" Tony asked, winking at Peter's dumbfounded look. "Nope, no snow."

"Uncle Ben would've loved that," said Peter, turning back to his window. "He always hated driving in the snow."

As soon as Happy pulled into the circular driveway of the Malibu house, Peter's jaw dropped even further. "You live here? But this is like the size of my whole entire school!"

"Cozy, isn't it?" quipped Tony as he stepped out of the car and took in a deep breath, reveling in the clean, slightly salty sea air. Had it really been only a few days since he'd last been here? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"I need to get home, Tony," Pepper said, breaking Tony from his thoughts. "I need to unpack and shower and get ready for work."

"Already?" Tony asked. "You can't take one day off? And besides, you know I have a shower here that's at your disposal." While Pepper would often spend the night at the mansion, she hadn't yet given in to Tony's requests to move in permanently, saying she wanted to take their burgeoning relationship slowly for the time being. Given Tony's reputation as a womanizer, and especially given his most recent actions when he was being poisoned to death with the palladium, he supposed he couldn't really blame her.

"I think you'll have your hands full enough with the kid for awhile," Pepper murmured, leaning in for a kiss. "His room is two doors down from yours, and I'll see you both tonight."

Peter was still standing next to the car, his eyes wide as saucers and his mouth gaping open as he stared at the massive house. Tony let him stand in awe while Happy unloaded the car, then cupped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, kid. Pepper said they just finished decorating your new room last night, so let's go take a peek, yeah?"

"Uh huh," Peter mumbled.

Taking the boy's hand, Tony led him through the front door, into the wide, oval-shaped entryway, and headed directly for the open staircase that led to the second floor. "Ah, here we go," Tony said as they arrived at the door to Peter's room, marked conspicuously with a nameplate in the shape of the Death Star.

Opening the door, it was almost as if they'd been transported inside the Star Wars movie itself. Opposite the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one entire wall of the room, two full-sized beds were draped in coverlets embossed with the two droids, C-3PO and R2-D2, while smaller versions of each droid rested on the bedside tables to serve as lamps. Behind the beds, a painted mural of the main spaceship, the Millenium Falcon, covered nearly the entire wall. On the opposite side stood a bookshelf, shaped to look like a TIE fighter and filled with books of all shapes and sizes. A squashy navy blue beanbag chair sat on the floor next to the bookshelf, with a tall reading lamp shaped like a lightsaber nestled behind it. About twenty different Lego sets stood piled up on the opposite side, with a removable building mat designed to keep any pieces from escaping. The final addition, a sixty-inch flat-screen television, was mounted on the wall above the bookshelf.

"Whoa," Peter said slowly, his eyes growing wider by the second. "This… is all for me?"

"Well, you're the only kid here, so I'd say that's an affirmative," said Tony, smiling at Peter's completely awestruck reaction. "Does that mean you like it?"

"Uh huh," the boy replied, crossing the large room to the door next to the bookshelf. After carefully placing George down on the beanbag chair, he opened the door to find the walk-in closet already filled not only with the clothes from his aunt and uncle's apartment, but an entirely new wardrobe as well, complete with at least a dozen pairs of new shoes.

"And the bathroom's here," Tony said, opening the door on the opposite side of the bookshelf to reveal the large, child-friendly bathroom, complete with a step stool at each of the two sinks, a Star Wars shower curtain, and Stormtrooper automatic toothbrush.

"I've always wanted one of those!" Peter exclaimed, pointing to the toothbrush. "My friend at school has one, only his is Darth Vader. But I think I like the Stormtrooper better."

"Well, as long as his toothbrush doesn't try to give yours orders, I think you'll be okay," said Tony with a grin as they returned to the bedroom. He had to admit, watching the kid innocently take everything in was damn endearing. As if he needed any help being endearing.

"Mr. Stark," Peter stammered, turning to look at Tony. He had that little crinkle between his eyes that Tony had noticed before when he was being especially emotional. "I don't—, I mean, this is all—, I mean… thank you."

"So, you like it?" he asked. "Think you can make do with it okay?"

"Uh huh! I love it! I've always wanted a Star Wars room! My friend has a Star Wars bedspread too, but his looks like that one lightsaber poster from Return of the Jedi. I think I like these better." He paused, eyeing the two beds. "But why are there two beds in here when it's just me?"

Tony honestly had no idea. He'd only had one bed in his room as a kid. "Well, I suppose this way you can pick your favorite robot—"

"They're droids, Mr. Stark," Peter corrected. "Not robots."

"Fine, droid," Tony said, throwing up his hands. "This way you can pick whichever one you like better on any given day."

"Or if I have a sleepover?" asked Peter eagerly. "Then my friend doesn't have to sleep on the floor!"

"Yeah, sure, kid," Tony replied. What the hell is a sleepover?

"Yay!" exclaimed Peter, bouncing on his feet. "It's gonna be great!"

"So," Tony said, a little impatiently. He was eager to get down to the garage and start going through the information from the New Mexico incident. "Let me show you the rest of the house, and then you can get to reading or building or brushing your teeth if you want, okay? I have some work I need to get started on."

"Can I have something to eat first?" Peter asked as he retrieved George from the beanbag chair. "I'm hungry."

Sighing, Tony nodded. He supposed he could do with one of his green smoothies. "Yeah, sure. Let's head to the kitchen and see what JARVIS has got for us."

"Jarvis? The guy who's clothes you used to play dress-up in?" asked Peter, reaching for Tony's hand as they headed back down the stairs.

"Well, no," replied Tony. "Mr. Jarvis was our butler when I was a kid, but he eventually got old and died. I created the artificial-intelligence JARVIS afterwards. Sort of a way to honor him, I guess. My JARVIS runs the house, just like a regular butler would. He's in charge of the security system, the grocery ordering, things like that. But he also helps me with my Iron Man armor, and helps me keep tabs on certain things that I like to keep tabs on."

"Like what?" Peter asked.

"Like… things a seven-year-old kid shouldn't have to worry about," Tony replied pointedly, smirking when Peter stuck out his bottom lip. "It's adult stuff; part of my work. Nothing you need to worry about."

Peter's brown eyes grew wide again. "Like your Iron Man work? Am I gonna get to see your suit today?"

Tony shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose you can a bit later. If you let me get some things done first, yeah?"

"Okay."

Arriving in the huge, open kitchen, Tony lifted Peter and George onto one of the tall stools lined up at the breakfast bar and opened up the fridge, pulling out a single-serve bottle of orange juice. A quick peek into one of the cupboards revealed a brand-new box of Lucky Charms, which Peter happily tore into while Tony fixed himself a smoothie.

"JARVIS?" said Tony. "Say hello to Peter."

"Hello there, Master Peter," replied the AI. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Whoa!" gushed Peter around a mouthful of marshmallows. "He called me master!"

"Yeah, it's a British thing," dismissed Tony. "I think. Our butler called me master until I was around fifteen or so."

Peter gave him a quizzical look. "Why'd he stop?"

"The term 'Master' is used to denote a young man who has not yet reached adulthood," piped up JARVIS. "Once the age of eighteen is attained, the salutation 'Mister' is then substituted."

"Thank you for the etiquette lesson, JARVIS," Tony quipped, taking a large swig of his smoothie. "So if you're done stuffing your face with the marshmallows you like to call cereal, I think that's my cue to send you to your room, young man. I need to get to work."

"I've programmed the television with programs appropriate for a child of Master Peter's age," said JARVIS. "Including all six films by the name of Star Wars."

"But for how long?" Peter whined, finishing the last of his orange juice. "I wanna see where you work. I wanna watch you. Why can't I?"

"And you will," Tony said, trying to not sound impatient. How could such a cute kid have such an annoying whine? "But I told you; I need some time to check on some things first." He clapped Peter on the shoulder, holding him steady as the boy jumped off the high stool. "I'll come and get you when I'm ready for you. All right?"

Peter's shoulders sagged, but he nodded as he picked up George. "Fine."

"If you need anything, just ask JARVIS," Tony said. "He'll tell you what to do."

"Uh huh."

Tony felt a pang of remorse as he walked Peter back up to his room, but he pushed it down, knowing that he needed to start sifting through the terabytes of information JARVIS had likely compiled on both the New Mexico incident and General Ross. Plus, there was something else that'd been nagging at Tony since before the Parkers' funeral.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter asked once they arrived back at his bedroom.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Am I allowed to jump on the beds?"

Tony couldn't help but laugh. Only this kid would ask such a question. "Yeah, sure, why not. Just don't break 'em. Or, at least don't break them right away. We wouldn't want to make Pepper mad. Okay?"

"Really? Thanks! I like to practice my flips, but I still land on my back and sides sometimes, and it kinda hurts if I'm landing on the hard floor."

"You can do a flip?" asked Tony, impressed. "Can you show me?"

Nodding, Peter toed off his shoes and climbed up onto the end of the R2-D2 bed, executing a nearly-perfect front flip.

Damn! Tony thought. I guess his small size is good for something! "That's pretty impressive, kid! Where'd you learn how to do that?"

A huge smile stretched across Peter's boyish face, and once again Tony felt that unfamiliar pride welling up inside him as he watched the kid soak up the praise like a sponge. "I got to go to a gymnastics camp last summer," Peter said, the smile disappearing almost as fast as it had appeared. "I was gonna ask Auntie May if I could do it again this summer too, before—"

"It's okay, kid," Tony said quickly. "You can practice as many flips as you want on the beds, as long as you don't fall off and hurt yourself. Capiche?"

Peter swallowed hard, biting his quivering bottom lip. "Capiche."

"Hey," Tony said softly, sitting down on the bed next to Peter. "I promise I'll only be a couple hours, then I'll come and check on you. You can keep yourself busy for a couple hours, right?"

Sniffing, Peter glanced around the room, his eyes landing on one of the larger Lego sets in the pile. "Yeah. I'll be okay."

"Just let JARVIS know if you need anything," Tony said, ruffing his curly hair. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Okay, Mr. Stark," Peter said, plopping down on his building mat and reaching for the Lego set. "See ya later."

Tony hovered in the doorway for a few more seconds, watching as Peter set George down next to him on the floor and proceeded to rip open the Lego box, tossing the assembly directions off to the side as he dumped out the pieces into one huge pile. As he turned and walked down the hall, he could hear Peter talking to George about where they should start.

"All right, JARVIS," Tony said as he punched his code into the newly repaired glass security door and stepped into his lab. "Show me what'cha got."

"Would you like to begin with New Mexico or General Ross, sir?" asked JARVIS.

"Might as well start with the little green men," Tony said, tapping his monitors to life. "Then we can move up to the big green man."

"Very good, sir," JARVIS replied, as pictures of the destroyed New Mexico town started to appear on the monitors.

"And while you're doing that, order something for the kid to jump on that's safer than a bed," Tony said, tapping on one of the pictures that showed a very odd-looking marking etched into a field.

"Perhaps a trampoline, sir?" suggested JARVIS.

"Hmm, yeah, sure," Tony replied, distracted. "And as if you don't have enough to do already, open a new file while you're at it."

"A new file for what, sir?"

Tony narrowed his eyes as he remembered what Peter said about the loud people who woke him up at night shortly before his parents were killed. Tony was certain there had to be some connection with why Peter's father's name had shown up in SHIELD's files. From what Tony seen, SHIELD didn't keep tabs on just any ordinary scientist. There had to be an important reason why they had been monitoring Parker's work.

"I wanna know everything that SHIELD was doing with Richard Parker," Tony said, tapping another command into his monitor. "And whatever research he was involved in. There's something there, JARVIS, and I'm gonna find it."

As always, I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)