Chapter 33 - Looking For Trouble
Tony closed his eyes, took a few breaths that were supposed to be deep, filling his lungs, but turned out shallow and fast. A five-minute conversation with the kid and he was exhausted, ready to pass out again. He couldn't though. Pepper was on her way. Slow enough not to run into the kid, hopefully.
"Hi, FRI?" He coughed from the sting in his throat as he had raised his voice. "FRI, wha' I miss?"
"Welcome back, Boss. You've been unconscious for 10 days and 14 hours. I have been keeping a—"
"D'es anyone know? 'Bout Siberia? Wha'... what happ'nd?"
"Sir, the information on your movements as well as the connected vitals, the audio and video data of the 23rd of June have been encrypted and are currently stored on your private server."
He closed his eyes, an effort to center his thoughts, concentrate on what was important. On what he had to take care of.
"N'body... nobody knows then—" The cough that worked its way out of his throat wasn't so much painful as it was strangling. Yep, those had to be some heavy meds. "kn—knows who else w's... was in the... the bunker?"
"Miss Hill and her team brought back Captain Rogers' shield but have so far failed to gather any detailed information on what happened in the bunker."
Tony nodded, focused on his breathing. "Goo' girl, FRI."
It had to stay like that. He couldn't... he wouldn't do this. He couldn't bear to have all of this dragged back up, have everyone psychoanalyze him. It was in the past. He couldn't change what happened. Nobody could. There was no point in dwelling on the details... the details of Steve Rogers' fucking betrayal. The humiliation and pain... All the times Rogers had looked at him and unblushingly lied to his fucking—
The door opened softly, slow enough to give Tony a few seconds to get his spiraling thoughts in order. Pepper wasn't alone this time.
"Agent Hill," he whispered, trying to keep as much strength in his voice as he could muster.
"Mr. Stark."
"Hey..." Pepper's hand found his, warm fingers snaked around him and held it tight.
Agent Maria Hill had her arms crossed as she stood tall behind Pepper. "How are you feeling, Tony."
"People... keep asking me that. 'm startin' te think... 'm havin' a bad... bad hair day or somethin'..."
She cocked her head to the side and he avoided her glance. Yeah, he was overcompensation his physical state with his brilliant wit, what of it? Pepper had his eyes on him as well, eyebrows knitted together in worry and silent disapproval. They all acted like him getting hurt was the end of the world. Like they hadn't been here, multiple times. His eyes were heavy and he let them fall shut without hesitation. At least that way he didn't have to see the look at either of their faces.
"Tony, Maria has some questions, if you feel up for it."
He huffed. Of course, Agent Hill had questions. Maria, Pepper, Peter, everyone was just full of questions. He blinked a couple of times before he gave in to the exhaustion and let his eyes stay closed. His vision was starting to darken at the edges. He'd pass out soon. All this was too much. That was probably for the better. It would give him time to think of something. There was no way that the whole "because I said so" routine he had pulled on the kid would work on either of these women.
But there was something he wanted. Yes, he had sent Pepper on an errand on purpose but it wasn't a request he had just made up. He hadn't even had to think about it, just wanted it as soon as he could think of anything that wasn't Siberia and the state of his chest.
"No'..." He squinted at Pepper. "Not now. Pep, I..." He rubbed a hand across his face. Not yet, he couldn't pass out yet. His hand muffled his voice but Pepper would hear. "You... you go' it?"
"The erm..." She pulled her purse closer, then shot a glance over her shoulder. "Maria, maybe... maybe this is too soon for him. He needs some more rest."
"I understand that this is a lot, I do." Agent Hill's voice was low and way too reasonable. "There are some things we have to work out. The faster we know who was involved in—"
"Come back this afternoon." Pepper had risen from her chair, turned to her. "You've waited for 10 days. A few more hours are not going to matter. Tony needs rest, needs to regain some strength."
"Pepper, with all due respect, as the person who was left in charge of the Com—"
"You don't want to finish that sentence, believe me." Tony's eyes blinked open all the way at the icy tone of Pepper's voice. "None of this. Not the land, the building, the tiles you're standing on would even be here for the Avengers to use if it wasn't for Tony and Stark Industries. I know you have questions but right now, he needs rest. So, he'll get to rest."
They stared at each other for what felt like a good minute before Maria Hill inclined her head at Pepper. "I'll be back at three then." She pursed her lips but then did put in the effort to pull her mouth into a somewhat encouraging half-smile as she looked at him. "You rest. Regain your strength. It's good to have you back, Tony."
Only as the door closed behind Maria Hill did Pepper's shoulders move up and down with a few deep breaths.
"No' gon'a lie. Tha'... that was kin'a hot." Usually, he'd put more snark into his tone, but for now, he was happy to get out a somewhat fluent string of words. Pepper turned to him, an eyebrow pulled up and her mouth curling into a bit of a smile. Wasn't that a sight for sore eyes?
"It's not a hard sell, dear. You look like you'll pass out any minute anyway."
"Hm." He sure felt like it.
"I do want to know what happened. You're not going to just get away with no explanation." The frown on her forehead was back as she crossed her arms. "Your... your little friend was here."
Tony's heart skipped a beat. A surge of adrenaline pushed his brain into a more attentive state. He just about stopped his jaw from dropping but couldn't help but stutter out a quiet. "Wh-what?"
"The spider-guy." She sighed then pulled the chair closer to the bed again and sat down. "I found his backpack with the suit in your lab. And I don't even want to know how he got in and out of the Compound. I did tell FRIDAY to put the alert system to DC2."
Tony turned his gaze up to the ceiling for a moment, deep breaths to keep his brain going. He had set Peter's security level up to an A2 after the Lagos incident. Thank god he did get things right sometimes.
"I can't believe you build the guy a suit, Tony. If Ross finds out he's going to hound you for this."
He looked at her, tried to get his voice under control. "He been in touch? Ross?"
Pepper nodded. "Constantly on the first day, until I called him and reminded him that you don't actually work for him and that he has no right to pester you for anything lower than a code B2. It's been quiet since." She rubbed a finger across her forehead, like rubbing away an unpleasant thought. "I honestly expected him to make some shit up and call again, but we were lucky so far." Then she squinted at him from underneath her hand. "And don't change the subject."
"It's... bi' of a hostile climate fo' heroes out there... righ' now."
She blew out a deep breath. "I guess it is. I still don't like that you take these kinds of risks. Not for yourself and not for other random people."
He would have shrugged if his shoulders hadn't felt like giant blocks of granite. "Par' of the job."
"Well, I don't like that job, either."
He drew in a few deep breaths, felt the urge to draw up the corner of his mouth in a smirk but then thought better of it. "I know, Pep."
For a moment, she just sat there, hands folded in her lap. There wasn't much to add to that part of the conversation for either of them. She didn't like that Tony put his life on the line like he had for the past few years. She hated it. Lost sleep, her appetite, way too much weight in the process. For the bad parts of it, he had found her crying in her office more than once. It was too much and he could accept that. But as long as that threat was still out there lurking in the shadows of space he couldn't drop this fight, couldn't just stand by and watch. So there had only been one conclusion to the destiny of their relationship.
Pepper had broken it off, too exhausted to continue and he had hated every second of it. She was right, of course. It hadn't been healthy, the way she had been trying to cope with everything, especially after the whole Extremis debacle.
She had been right and it didn't matter how much Tony loved her, how much he needed her. How much she loved him, too. Their relationship hadn't been working. It would destroy her and he would never let that happen.
"Pep?" She looked up at him at that. "Di' you find it?"
The frame appeared out of her bag like an anchor conjured out of thin air and Tony had to bite back a sigh as she pushed it into his waiting hands. The dark wood felt warm underneath his fingers. The frame had been his mother's. It had sat on her nightstand for years, containing one of the few candid photos that had existed of his family. A four-year-old Tony on his mom's lab, his dad bent down, pressing a kiss onto his wife's hair while his hands rested on Tony's shoulders.
Tony had burned the picture. The night he had learned that his father had crashed his car into a fucking tree, killing the person he loved most in the world.
25 years he had blamed Howard for that. 25 years he had hated him. Howard had never been a particularly good father. Never really loving or attentive, preoccupied with bigger, more important things than a little boy. Tony had wanted to be better than that.
His eyes stung and he rapidly blinked the frustration away. The frame now held a picture of him and Aiden. The first time he had held his son in the hospital. There were other pictures of them from that first week. Pepper had hired a professional photographer and those, those were beautiful pictures as well. But Pepper had taken this one.
His fingers rubbed along the frame and the image of his mom came back to him, calling out for her husband, struggling with the Winter Soldier's hand around her neck. The frame slipped through his fingers and landed on his chest. He grunted at the impact and his stomach turned. For a terrifying moment, he thought he was going to throw up. His fingers were shaking as he desperately tried to take off the back of the frame.
"Tony?"
Pepper's hands were warm and steady, slowed him, until he stopped his frantic attempts to dismantle the frame. One by one she pulled his fingers loose and then balanced the frame on her lap. The back came off easily in her hands and she carefully took out the picture. Tony couldn't help but stare at the soft expression on her face as she looked at the photograph, eyes moving back and forth, taking in every detail.
"I've always loved this picture. It felt so wrong, taking it at the time, but now... now I'm glad that... that you have this." She bit her lip like she wanted to say more but decided not to and put the picture into Tony's hands instead.
For the longest time, frame and picture had been buried at the bottom of a drawer in his LA office. He had only moved it to a more accessible spot in his desk when they had gone to New York full time, after the Malibu house had been blown up. Then with him to the Compound, after Ultron. It's not that he looked at it a lot, but there was something about just having it close by. About having the option to look at it, whenever he wanted to, that was soothing for his soul. Shaky fingers moved across the photo, the little bundle in his arms. Aiden had been so small, so vulnerable. Hadn't even known, how much he had already lost.
Tony blinked away the moisture that stung in his eyes and quickly moved the picture underneath the sheets, where his hand held it in place just above his heart. Pepper reached for his hand on top of the covers and carefully squeezed away the soft tremor. Her other hand ran through his hair, along his scalp and he closed his eyes giving into the sensation.
He didn't know how much time had past when he woke up, but Pepper was gone. His hands had both slid down to his sides and he quickly checked for the picture, then moved it underneath his pillow instead. The last light of the day was fading outside the window. This had been a little than a nap.
"FRI," he whispered, his voice still terribly weak. "What's the time?"
"It's 8:04 pm, Boss."
He couldn't really enjoy his peace and quiet all that long. At least it gave him some time to get his story straight. It took less than 30 minutes for Agent Hill to turn up in his room again. At least Pepper was by her side as she entered, so he didn't have to tell the tale twice. He could always feign a certain amount of memory loss, but it would get him far. He mixed some facts into his story and that just had to be enough for them. They could always go and hunt down Rogers, get some details out of him, though Tony doubted that the supersoldier would show his face any time soon. He better not.
"Five super soldiers?"
"That's right," Tony whispered.
"And you killed them all."
"All... yeah, all dead."
"And the Hydra agents you fought? How many were there? And why did Steve leave his shield behind?"
Tony gave a small shrug. Yeah, he didn't really have a good explanation for that one. "Passed out. Don'... don' remember."
Maria sighed. "Come on, Tony. We've been screening the skies for Steve. He might be hurt, too. You have to remember something. How did you find Steve in the first place? Ross is still looking for him as well."
"Ask Wilson." Tony blinked at her and gave his head a couple of shakes. That was it from him. He was done, determined not to let the absolute disinterest about where Steve Rogers was and if he was hurt or not, slip into his features.
"Do you have any way to get in contact with him?"
"No," he lied effortlessly. The last thing he wanted was any form of contact with Rogers. Ever. Fuck him. Fuck the whole lot of them.
Her fingers drummed on the tablet in her hands. She sighed audibly, her gaze straight on him. "Well, if that's all you remember..."
Tony grunted a mostly unrecognizable "yes" and Agent Hill couldn't do much more than take him at his word. Sure, there were ways to find out how much he had been lying about what had really happened in that cave, but none of them would get to that data. It was encrypted on his server. Not even Obi had managed to get into his files with the full engineering staff of Stark Industries at his disposal.
Maria Hill was one thing. Convincing Pepper was another. But Tony let his eyes fall shut again when she didn't say a word to question his story either. Instead, she left the room with Agent Hill only to return a few minutes later, pushing Rhodey's wheelchair in front of her.
His head was swimming with guilt. She knew him too well. Knew too well that what he had done to his best friend would be the best weapon against him. The best lever to get at all his secrets. Well, not this time. This was too personal. Humiliatingly personal. The truth behind his true defeat in that bunker was too much to share, even with them. The guilt of what happened to Rhodey would be enough to occupy him. He didn't need to get into another thing with them, another loss. Not now. After everything, this would surely break him, maybe beyond repair.
"I'm sorry, Rhodey."
"It's not your fault and you know that."
Did he now... Tony looked away from his friend. "My tech failed 'ou."
"Tones, I fell like a brick out of the sky. Without your tech, I'd be dead."
"Without my tech, 'ou 'd no' been in the sky in the fi'st place."
His voice was slurring heavier than before and it let a sense of weakness spread through him. Maybe he looked bad enough for them not to bother him on the details of Siberia. Maybe they would just believe him.
Rhodey stayed a bit longer, determined to take some of that guilt off of Tony's shoulders. With moderate success. Pepper too stayed close, though kept a little more distance the more his mind started to settle into normalcy. Helen Cho stopped by and explained her treatment plan. Now that he was awake she could start a more aggressive approach on the regrowth of tissue that they had held back from during his coma.
"It would have put too much stress on your body and even now we'll have to start slow, but I think we should get the first round of treatment done as soon as possible. Tonight, if you feel up to it."
"He's been out of the coma for only about a day, Helen." Pepper was hovering close to his bed, clearly signaling support while she tried to keep things between them friendly and less intimate. Even now her hand would twitch towards his, but she pulled it back just before her fingers brushed his skin.
"We'll start small. But the sooner we do, the better the chances of a smooth recovery will be. There will be less pain, which means fewer meds. You'll feel less foggy."
Tony nodded. "Fine. Okay." No point in dragging it out. The sooner they started the quicker he'd be on his feet, the smaller the chances that Ross would get wind of any of this.
Two sessions in the cradle. One that very night, another one early the next morning. Most of the time in between he had spent in bed, passed out, his body recovering from the procedure. Pepper brought him breakfast, if one wanted to call it that. Solid food was not in the cards yet. At least her smoothies were better than Dum-E's. She talked about the company for the most part, the projects and organizing she had done while he had been out of commission. They stayed away from their personal issues, from anything that could bring back the tension. This was a temporary holiday from their fighting. He knew that. She made an effort not to hit any sore spots, not to press him on anything they could argue about in earnest.
It was past noon when he woke up from another nap and found himself alone in the room at last. Helen had been right, his head was clearer. He could think a little straighter. This was better. This was a lot better.
He tried to move his feet enough to sit up, but it seemed that he wasn't there yet. He was still stuck in that bed. A whole 10 minutes he spent just lying there, on his back, one hand shoved underneath his pillow, fingers trailing the picture he had hidden there. There were a whole lot of things waiting for him to be fixed as soon as he'd be able to get back to the lab. The suit was shredded. He'd have to rebuild, maybe redesign. The arc had been too vulnerable the way he had designed it. Nothing like Siberia could ever happen again. The way the faceplate was ripped off, his head exposed. He had been just been stranded right there. A major redesign would be—
"FRI—," he croaked, his voice only a rasp. Tony cleared his throat and tried again. "FRIDAY, is the kid on his way?"
"Not yet, Sir. Peter is still at his summer job."
Tony did a double-take and stared up at the camera when the memory of their conversation slowly came back. The kid had mentioned a job, but honestly Tony had thought—
"The kid actually got another job?" He huffed. What the hell. "Why and... and where?"
"Peter is working at a store in Corona, Queens, on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays from 7 am to 1 pm."
His hand was still buried underneath the pillow. His finger's traced the picture of him and Aiden, an effort to calm himself. Eyebrows closely knitted in confusion, his head was beginning to hurt. "But... why? Did he think I was actually dead or something?"
"I have no information on his motive, Sir. He has not spoken about that to you."
"Not spoken to me about that? He's been..." Tony gave his head a subtle shake. "He's been talking about his job? When was that?"
"The first time he mentioned it was on Monday, June 27th, when he had talked about his first day and subsequently on every other day that he had been working."
Tony could only blink, trying to take in what FRIDAY was saying.
"How often was he here?"
"Every day, boss."
His hand stilled and he pulled it out from underneath the pillow. The kid had come to the Compound every day?
"Call him, FRI."
"I'm afraid, Peter's shift will not end for another 32 minutes, Sir."
Tony groaned. He didn't like this. He didn't like this job at a store thing one bit. With nothing left to do for him for another 32 minutes, he just tried to keep his thoughts away from how slowly the time was passing. Pepper had refused to bring him his phone or at least a tablet and there was no projection tech in this room for FRIDAY to be of help. He'd have to think of something, a workaround. He had shit to do.
"Sir, calling Peter Parker now."
He huffed out a "finally" and it only took a few seconds for the kid to answer his phone.
"Mr. Stark? Is everything okay? Are you alright?"
"Why are you working in a supermarket?"
"I... what?"
"Why's my personal mini-genius intern working at a supermarket?"
"I, erm... Sir, I... I checked the internship papers and I didn't... I didn't find anything about any restriction for other jobs except for technology and information processing companies that would be in direct or indirect competition with—"
"Pete... stop!" Tony shook his head. His level of confusion had reached an all-time high. "Why di' you go an' look for another job in the first place?" But the kid stayed quiet and that never boded well. "Pete?"
"It's just..." the boy huffed in what almost sounded like annoyance. "It's just my aunt, she was like... It doesn't matter, Sir. It's not—"
"Kid, talk t' me b'fore I have to stalk you."
Peter blew out a deep breath and lowered his voice. He was still on the streets of the city, judging by the background noise. "She didn't like that I was doing the internship when there was no, well, no compensation." Tony had a hard time keeping up with how fast Peter was speaking and it only got worse the longer he talked. "I know, you built me the suit and all and I would never expect anything more than that, but I can't really tell her about the suit nor does it do much as a monetary addition to like the household and things, so as a compromise she agreed that if I wanted to keep the internship I had to find another summer job because it's just. Like... she just wanted me to and I guess it's not fair that with her working all the time—"
"God. Kid. Stop." Tony's head was throbbing. He wasn't sure where even to start with all that information. "Are you tryin' t' tell me you work as like a store clerk now to appease your aunt cause she thinks you're not gettin' paid for the internship?"
"I mean. Yeah... I guess. Yeah."
Urgh. What was he ever going to do with that kid? "Why didn't you just come to me and tell me that? It's not an issue, Pete. We can work something out."
"You don't.. you don't have to do that, Sir. I know how ridiculously expensive the suit is and with everything you've already done for me it's—"
"Stop." Fine, Tony had always been a little bit privileged... well, quite privileged, but he had not seen that one coming at all. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I—"
"It's fine, Mr. Stark."
It was not fine. Tony was such an idiot. Of course, his aunt would be miffed about an unpaid internship at a billionaire's company.
"Just don't worry about it, Sir. You just... you just get better and I'll... I'll come by later. If... I mean, if you want me to come by I can or I—"
"Pete. Yes. Come by the Compound. Ge'... get the suit ou' of my office first. Pepper said she—"
The kid's voice was a little high, his speech a little faster again. "I... That's okay. I got the suit with me."
"Oh, you do?" Of course, he did. He'd been to the Compound every day it seemed. Tony's insides cramped at the thought. He still didn't really know what to do with that revelation. "Pepper said she found it in the lab."
"I know, I'm sorry, I wasn't—"
"It's fine, Pete. She doesn'... doesn't know that you've been back here, is... it's fine." On the other end of the line, the kid stayed quiet. That was never a good sign. "I'll see you this afternoon then." Tony bit his lip. He'd be killing for a video feed right about now. "Pete?"
"She fount it when they brought your suit in." His voice was quiet now, whispering into the receiver, careful not to be overheard. "You know I saw your suit, right? In the lab. Your suit and... and the shield."
Tony closed his eyes and swallowed a curse.
"Did you fight him? Was it... did he lure you there? Was he waiting 'til—"
"Pete, no." Tony sighed. "It w's nothing like that."
It was not just that he wasn't ready to talk about what happened, about the implications, the lies. Tony didn't even know if he would ever be ready to talk about that. Definitely not with Peter. And right now, what good would it do? What would be gained if he dragged the kid into the middle of this?
"What was it like then?" His voice was louder now, fiery. The background noise had almost disappeared. The kid must have ducked into an ally or something. "Did you go looking for him on your own? Why did he leave you if you were fighting on the same side?"
"That's enough, Pete. All this doesn't concern you. It's my business. I'll deal with—"
"But, Mr. Stark—"
"Stop! Enough!" His throat burned but at least he had gotten the kid to stop talking. "Alright, lis'n. You remember what our deal was?" The line stayed quiet and Tony took another deep breath. "Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. That's our deal."
"Then why did you fly me all the way to Germany?"
Tony wrapped his hands into his sheets, balled his fists up. "I shouldn't have done that. I was wrong—"
"No, Sir. You needed help and I could help. It made perfect—"
"Peter, it was a mistake." The kid's stubborn attitude was new. And Tony couldn't say that he cared much for it. "I would have never brought you there if I'd known that this kind of a fight would emerge from it. You shouldn't have been there."
"But—"
"Peter, that's enough." Deep breaths. He had to breathe, bring down his pulse, his temper. It wasn't the kid's fault. He knew that. With everything that happened, Peter had no idea what he was even asking. He couldn't know what it would do to Tony to dissect all this with him.
The kid's voice was miserably low, not more than a whisper. "Are you seriously not gonna tell me what happened?"
"Tis of no consequence." The line was silent. For a second, a short fleeting moment he did contemplate the possibility to tell Peter. A cautionary tale that would keep the boy from any dumb moves, but no. It was too much. The kid was 14. This wasn't his fight. "I'll see you later, then."
"Yes, Sir."
Tony closed his eyes, hating this. But this was how it had to be. It was the responsible thing to do.
"Boss, the call was disconnected."
His hand wandered back underneath the pillow, search for that special something to anchor him. To make him feel like he was doing the right thing.
"Thanks, FRI. I figured as much." He stared up, eyes a little too tired to focus properly on the white wall above him. Then his gaze wandered further down to that small space on the back wall between the top of the wardrobe and ceiling where Peter had been hiding the day before. What else had the kid been up to while Tony had been busy giving his best impression of Sleeping Beauty? "FRI, scan the web for... for mentions of Spider-Man ov'r the las' ten days."
#
This was a whole truckload of bull shit. It wasn't fair and it was stupid on top of it. How was he ever supposed to help if he didn't even—
Urgh. He hammered his finger against the number 4 button in the elevator. Fucking bullshit secrecy. His back was pressed against the cold metal wall of the elevator car, arms crossed in front of him. This wasn't the end of this discussion. When he would get to the Compound, he'd make his point properly. He'd look right at Mr. Stark and tell him how illogical it was that - after everything - that he would keep Peter out of the loop on this. What was to be gained by him searching for answers in the dark when he could actually help?
He slammed the door of the apartment shut and flinched when part of the wall vibrated with the force he had used.
"Peter?"
"Yeah..." He screwed up his face, annoyed with his own carelessness. "Sorry. There was a draft."
"Can you come here for a moment?"
He threw his head back and both his hands roughly rubbed across his face. He just wanted to get to his room and mope. He was drained, too little sleep, that monotone job and on top of everything all the confusing emotions of having Mr. Stark back in the first place, mixed with annoyance and, honestly, the hurt that he would shut him out like that. How was he supposed to help if he didn't even know what—
"Peter?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."
May sat at the dinner table, eyes locked on her laptop screen. She never really spend a lot of time on it and she didn't look particularly happy. The blue light of the display rather deepened the lines on her face and darkened the rings under her eyes. She hadn't gotten much sleep either then and the last few days had been long ones for her.
He stepped a little closer. "Everything okay?"
"I... I'm not..."
May shook her head, then tapped back and forth on the touchpad, eyes still on the screen. Just a couple quick steps and he was next to her. It was the bank's website she was looking at.
"I got an email notification about a transaction. And it was..." She shook her head again, then looked up at him. "Stark Industries just paid us 6720 Dollars."
"Wh-what?" Peter's eyes widened. "That..." He leaned down and had another look at the lines on the bank statement. Between the many red numbers, all the withdraws and payments, there was one line on the very button that ended it a big green number. 6720 Dollars.
She cleared her throat. "At first I thought someone had stolen my credit card details or something because I didn't realize it was a deposit into the account, but... but it is. It's a direct transfer of 6720 Dollars."
He stared at the line, couldn't take his eyes off it.
"Why didn't you tell me that they were gonna pay you at the end of the semester and I mean, we have to call someone about this. This can't be right!"
"I... I don't..." He was stuttering. His brain did manage to realize that, but it wasn't processing this new information at all. What the hell was happening?
"Peter, they must have mixed up your hours with someone else's." She let out a frustrated sigh and his heart ached with how painful it would be to refund this. For both of them.
"I mean. We... I guess..." But this didn't make any sense. Why would someone just wire this to them? He didn't even have a contract that would grant him any wages, why would someone just— His face went slack. Oh... oh no, he didn't...
Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket and sure enough, there was a new notification. An email from Stark Industries. An icy, nauseating wave rushed through him as he clicked on it.
Dear Mr. Parker,
Your wages from March 16th to June 30th, 2016 have been deposited into your account.
You will find your timesheet attached to this notification. Please check for any discrepancies at your earliest convenience.
Sandra King
HR Employee Administrations Office
He opened the attachment and sure enough, it listed his hours from the past few months. The adapted hours. Every Wednesday and Friday with 3 hours each, Saturdays logged with the maximum of 8 hours. A total of 224 hours over 16 weeks.
He was pulled out of his trance by another notification, that popped up on the screen. A text message from Mr. Stark.
I don't do moonlighting with my intern.
It wasn't just confusion and nerves that vibrated through him. He pulled the attached timesheet back up. The document wasn't land but there was another number that he had his eyes locked onto now.
30.
$30 per hour.
That's what it said right there in black and white. He was making $8 an hour at the grocery store.
"Let me see this." She reached for the phone in his hand and he quickly pulled his hand away, but it was too late. "Whose... where did you get that phone?"
Heat rushed to his face. "It's, erm... from the... for the internship, if they... they gave me that, in case I—"
She was turning in over in her hands. "They gave a 14-year-old a thousand dollar cell phone?"
Peter swallowed hard. "I... I mean, it's part of the... the thing, the testing out prototype thingy-s and..." He blew out a deep breath.
"What if you lose it and someone sends it to like the tabloids or something? It there a fine on this? We can't—"
"No." He shook his head, hoping he was right. "No, it's nothing. Nothing like that."
She sighed, then scrolled through the document. "This says they pay you $30 per hour."
"Yes, I..." His face was burning. "I know, I saw that. I don't—"
"That... that's it then. Someone just used a wrong template or something. I don't remember anything specific in your contract. I'm going to have to check. We..." May's lips were pressed tight and Peter's heard stung. "I'll call them. Figure this out. We'll... Don't worry about it, honey." She didn't even look at him when she handed him back the phone. "Can you just forward me that. I'm... I'm gonna check on the food. Should be done in about 15 minutes."
"I... yeah... yeah, alright."
She disappeared in the kitchen and Peter didn't really know where to go from there, if he should apologize or tell her he would talk to them himself. He should. This wasn't on May, he... he would deal with this. Today. At the Compound. Or actually. He would just deal with that right now.
He hit the call button on Mr. Stark's number just as he closed the door to his bedroom.
"Hello, Peter. I'm afraid, Mr. Stark is currently not available."
He groaned. "Are you stuck on that message, FRIDAY? He just sent me a text a few minutes ago."
"He has company and is not at liberty to receive any calls right now."
"Well, when it's convenient, tell him he's insane. He can't give me that much money. He..." Peter lowered his voice to a whisper. "He already gave me a damn multimillion-dollar suit. Like, this... this is not reasonable and... and..." Peter let himself fall onto his bed, bit his lip and then simply closed his eyes in resignation. "This is not okay. Just... just tell him that this is not okay."
"I am happy to transmit your message as soon as Mr. Stark is free to receive it."
Peter hung up, eyes on the ceiling above him. Thankfully, May left him alone for a while longer, stewing in his room while either of them came to terms of what had just happened.
6720 Dollars. What was that? Hush money? Was that what was happening? Mr. Stark giving him some money so he would stop asking questions? Reaffirming each one's status in this messed-up relationship? It was insulting. Did he really think that would work? That he could throw some money at Peter and he'd just take it like a good boy and not what... not bother him anymore?
Lunch was a pain. His brain wouldn't shut up and May desperately tried to keep the mood light and cheerful, but Peter's heart was aching and the wheels in his head were spinning. She left him to get to work and he tried not to take his anger out on the dished. All of this was ridiculous. He hated this.
He usually waited another 30 minutes after May left before he left the house, just in case she'd forgotten something, so he went back to his room dropped onto his twin bed, face first, buried in his pillow as he let out a guttural groan. He should be happy. He should be celebrating. Mr. Stark was awake and well-ish, but all he could think about was everything else. The why and how and who. Whatever had happened, he could handle this. He wasn't a kid anymore. These past days when Mr. Stark had been sick, in a coma from his stupid decision to go out there by himself, it had been Peter who had kept an eye out for the city. If he could handle the updated suit, he could—
Oh. His head shot to the side, eyes focused on the laptop that was sitting on his desk. There was another way. If Mr. Stark was refusing to tell him, he already knew where he would find his answers. For the better part of half an hour, he was just lying on his bed, half-heartedly trying to talk himself out of this. This could get him into a lot of trouble. A lot of trouble.
But what could get him into even more trouble was being blind-sighted by whatever fight it was, that Mr. Stark in the middle of. Not just him, but Mr. Stark as well. His mentor was still bedridden. Who knew how long his recovery would take. It could be weeks or months and anything could happen in the meantime. If Peter didn't know what to look out for he—
He just had to. Mr. Stark didn't understand yet that he could handle this. Peter grew with his challenges and he would show him. Show him that he was so much more than just a kid.
Accessing the server still gave him chills. He had stayed clear of all these files like he had promised himself he would but this... these were special circumstances.
The Iron Man folder contained a lot more subfolders than the Spider-Man one did. A lot more. He did a quick search for video files, scanned them for the right time stamp and, well, there they were. Right there. He'd just... he'd just have to click on it and he would know.
He'd just do it. He'd just go for it, just a click and—
And everything was grey. All he could see on the screen was a whole lot of grey.
"What the..." he scooched closer to the laptop and strained his eyes, then moved the cursor a little a bit further down in the timeline.
What was he even looking— Oh. Those were waves. He was, yes, he was looking at the sea flying by underneath. Mr. Stark was flying. Again, he moved the cursor further along until the picture changed and his stomach turned.
There he was, Steve Rogers, looking straight at him.
Right behind him the Winter Soldier, his gun pointing directly at Mr. Stark.
###
(author's note: Happy weekend, folks. I'm rubbish at responding to all your comments, but thank you all so much, I love the feedback. And thanks - as always - for reading.)