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"Pete?" May asked, "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"
Her nephew, who had been slowly wilting under her gaze for several minutes now, threw a glance toward his laptop. His eyes flickered back to hers, filled with hesitancy. "I just wanted to…" he made a vague gesture with his hand, "... I dunno."
May rubbed her brow. "Peter, Justin Hammer was lying to you. He doesn't regret anything he's done, alright?"
Peter chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, before a raised eyebrow put a stop to it. "I know."
May felt exasperation like hot coals right against her patience, as she fought the urge to sigh. She needed to get Peter to listen, and per usual, a Parker who had made up their mind wasn't going to change it fast.
Funny that.
"Petey," May said earnestly, reaching for his hand, "I know what he said. He almost had me believing him, too." she squeezed his hand tightly, "But he is trying to use you. He put thousands of people in danger for his own ego, Peter," she leaned in a bit, "including you."
Peter looked away and crossed his arms. "I know."
"Okay," May said, letting go and leaning back. "Then why are you looking for his email?"
Peter narrowed his eyes on the floor. "I'm not gonna hurt anyone."
May considered what to say for a moment. Peter had a wary, on edge look about him. He'd dug in his heels, she could tell, even if he was clearly withering under the conversation. She had to do more than just get him to say he was mistaken - he had to believe he was, understand why he was. For his safety.
"Peter," she began slowly, "Do you know how it felt for Ben and I when we lost you at the expo?"
Peter stiffened. He swallowed as his face fell, harsh and swift. He blinked several times, opening his mouth, then closing it. "I-I'm sorry. I'll stop checking."
"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty," May said, pushing her chair away from the table. The canteen's lights had a deceptively unnaturality to them - long, fluorescent overheads like the ones she would have seen in some sort of warehouse, that blended in so well with everything around them that she found herself forgetting they were there unless she was in a situation like this one: pitch darkness outside, so they were the only light source. She walked around to his chair and pulled him to his feet, placing her hands on his shoulders once he was steady. "But I want you to understand that when I think about you seeking Hammer out, that's what I think of."
Peter was still looking at his shoes. His fists were clenched. "I-I'm sorry, May."
"Oh, kiddo," May said, pulling him for a tight hug. "You don't have to be sorry, alright? I'm very disappointed that you didn't tell me you were trying to find him, but…" her mind flickered back to the day when she saw him use his powers for the first time. It had been a league above shocking for her to see him jump and flip and swing with such ease, even if the environment was practically sterile when compared to Queens. She recalled the glances she had thrown Natasha's direction, none of which the woman had returned: she had been completely unreadable, which she hadn't been able to come to a proper conclusion over. "... I love you, Pete, okay? With everything I've got."
For emphasis, she tightened her hold, and placed a kiss on his forehead. "I just want you safe, Peter." The silence she was met with was piercing. She held tight, closing her eyes and carding a hand through his hair. "Pete?"
"Okay," Peter said, relaxing in her arms. His voice was achingly quiet. "Okay. M'sorry."
The pair remained like that for a bit, with May feeling keenly aware that she was, practically, all he had left. He was definitely the only family she had left. She felt small - infinitesimally small, surrounded by giants in a world she didn't understand. She was just a nurse, for God's sake! She dealt in normal tragedies. Paralyzation, comas, loss of limbs. Adopting Peter came from a normal tragedy. She and Ben had agreed to it on the terms that Peter was their nephew, the child of Richard and Mary Parker. Years later it turned out that Peter wasn't Richard or Mary's child, and was connected to supersoldier programs. But, they had been assured that nothing out of the ordinary was likely.
Then Peter got superpowers, didn't tell her or Ben, Ben was shot, and May was negligent enough to let her own kid run around as a vigilante night. Signs piled up and she did nothing tangible to stop Peter from sneaking out, nor did she take any action that could have stopped the look in Peter's eyes whenever the topic of Spiderman cropped up. There was a determination there, now: her nephew had crossed some sort of threshold, she could tell. One there was no going back from, one that gave no do-overs. She might be able to stop him from pursuing that path for a time - she was still his aunt and he was still fourteen - but in four years? Three years?
One?
The canteen was empty, save for them, and Peter's food was going cold, spewing delicious fumes into the stillness around it. May was dimly aware that compound security would be starting their patrols soon, and that this moment could be shattered at any second by God knows what, but she savored it all the same. She tried to vent all of the frustration she felt into the hug, praying that she could somehow communicate to her nephew just how desperately she wanted him to stay safe.
"I love you, you know." she told him, "I love you so much."
Team meetings.
Tony's favorite time of year.
He had arrived early to get settled, and was met with Steve sitting at the table, looking at something on his phone. He was wearing a navy long-sleeve shirt, which of course fit him perfectly, a frown on his face.
"Where's that great American smile, eh?" Tony said, sitting down across from him. Steve looked up at him, with a pensive aura about him. His jaw was a bit too taught to be normal. "Is something up, Cap?"
Steve turned his phone off and placed it facedown on the table. "I suppose, yes."
Tony hoped he covered his surprise. It wasn't much, but Steve was usually the one that gave comfort. He didn't seem to be phased by much of anything. On the occasion that something did get to him, Tony hadn't ever had the man come to him for help in processing. "So," he said, "what's got the star spangled man with a plan shaken up?"
Steve's gaze bounced from his phone back up to Tony. He let out a small sigh as he answered, "Peter." Tony raised an eyebrow. "I was training with him and - well, this might sound odd, but he looked a bit like my mother."
If Tony had been drinking something when Steve said that, he was certain the table would have received a rather unfortunate repaint. "Uh."
"I know," Steve said, cracking a small smile. "It's weird. I never noticed until today, really, but there have been moments where…" Steve slipped his phone back into his pocket, "... I just got a feeling. For a second, I thought I was seeing something there." he paused. "I know this is highly unlikely, but there wasn't… Peggy wasn't…"
Oh dear god.
"That's a hard nope, Steve," Tony said flatly, "Richard Parker has no relation to Peggy Carter, neither does Mary. Also Peggy would have told you if she'd had a bun in the oven when you disappeared. My Godaunt wouldn't've hidden that."
Steve nodded. "Yeah, I know. Just wanted to make sure."
They fell into silence. Tony occupied himself by looking over the speech he had slowly been dictating to FRIDAY, fully anticipating that PR would find something to edit in it. If not them, Pepper would certainly have this cut and moved around, and in all likelihood, she would be right. She normally was.
Tony knew he was some brand of crazy at this point. At the edge of his rocker, at least. His life certainly didn't make much sense anymore, that was for sure.
Natasha hadn't left him with any noticeable injuries from their "conversation" two weeks ago. She hadn't made a single mention of it, or "them", and generally, things had been at their usual DEFCON level. Tony was amazed by how effortlessly she pulled it off; there were moments where he completely forgot that he had passed her son in the hallway, given him a wave, and pulled the blatant falsehood out of his ass that things were keeping him busy at the moment, but he would love to work more with Peter when the time was right. There were instances where he could forget that her kid - his new super-nephew? - was in the same building as they were, fully believing that his last family member in the world was May Parker.
But it wasn't his call. Tony understood that it wasn't his call in any way shape or form, yet the image in his head, of Peter staring at Natasha's headstone with uncertain eyes hadn't left him alone. He wondered if Natasha had planned for the day she died; what would happen to her kid when that happened, if they would ever find out.
The rest of the team slowly filed in, Sam sitting next to Steve and Rhodey sitting next to him, significantly more exasperated than usual. Natasha and Wanda sat together, and Vision actually showed up. He was wearing a sweater and jeans, like a middle aged, vibranium dad.
"Glad to see you're here, Vision," Steve said.
"Yes, it is good." Vision said, "I believe the changes I have been experiencing are finally 'settling down'."
Tony shifted in his seat. He hadn't wanted to think overmuch about those 'Changes', despite witnessing and logging most of them. It was fascinating, but… okay, there was weird, and then there was weird. Said 'Changes' fell into the latter category.
"I hope they're positive," Steve said, offering an easy smile.
"I believe they could be tactically useful," Vision replied, "Would you like a demonstration?"
Tony already had an airtight jar with evidence from those changes. He would be good without a demonstration, if only to marginally decrease the amount his head hurt. Of course, Steve asked for one, being a good team leader and all that.
Vision stood up and held up his hand and closed his eyes, and right before his eyes, red vibranium was slowly covered by pale skin. It generated in silence, a pretty convincing veneer, Tony was honest, Almost like JARVIS had had. Steve and Sam spluttered, while Wanda stared, and Rhodey's exasperation melted. Tony let out a long breath, rubbing his brow.
He didn't want to delve into how that was happening. He had tried, of course, and lost plenty of sleep over it, but he hadn't come any closer to understanding where the hell the skin came from, or where the appetite originated, or just what was happening with the mind stone and JARVIS. He could hardly pull up a view of JARVIS at this point, which left him with the model of the intelligence in the mind stone from just before he created Ultron. A model he couldn't replicate.
"Thank you for sharing that with the class, Viz," Tony said dryly, "Can you please sit down now?"
Steve turned to him. "Tony, don't be rude."
"Yeah, well, this cat's been spritzed." Tony snapped back. His mind always moved fast, but recently it had been moving too fast into too many places he didn't like for comfort. "I also don't understand what he's doing-" he pointed at Vision, "-so don't bother asking."
"Okay, woah," Rhodey said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Calm down, Tony." the man looked to Vision. "Thanks, Vision, that should come in handy."
"Yeah," Steve said, "You look like you have decent enough control of it."
Vision nodded to him. "Thank you, Captain. I will freely admit it is taxing," his eyes jumped to Wanda briefly, before springboarding back to Steve. "But I do indeed have it under conscious control."
"Is that all?" Steve asked, "I called us here to talk about how we'll deal with the Vulture, but we can continue on this if there's more to these… abilities."
"It does not seem to be a present danger," Vision said, "Nor is it something I feel prepared to use in the field, so yes, we can discuss the Vulture."
"Alright," Steve nodded, then looked to Natasha, "Nat, you wanna give them the rundown?"
The whole presentation lasted less than five minutes. Another middle-aged white dude turned evil, surprise surprise. The guy had a daughter and wife, but that didn't change the fact that his weapons had killed people - or that he was selling to the Nazis. The holographic projections of each of his friends sprang to life, with three forming a very clear inner circle of original founders, and then the list of them and their associates revealing who actually built the weapons.
"He never takes his car to his workshops," Nat said, "always uses public transportation, and never uses the same route from day to day, though he mainly seems to stick to these five." a map of New York, hovering above a picture of Toomes' family, had a few of its streets lit up, and another map of the subway highlighted Toomes' most commonly used routes. "Most of his actual workers don't, though. And one of them always uses the same route." Natasha gestured, and the picture of Toomes' family was replaced with a mugshot. "He's fairly isolated during the beginning of his commute, so we'll get him tomorrow and see if we can't find out where the next deal is occurring. Tony, you'll be monitoring Toomes. Build up evidence."
Tony nodded. "No problem. Fri, get on that and give me updates by the hour."
Natasha held his eyes for a fraction of a second longer, where he felt like his soul was being mercilessly combed through. Then, as if nothing was wrong, Natasha went back to debriefing the team.
Tony tried to listen, he really did, but his attention slipped through his fingers like sand. Natasha spoke, and his mind attempted to connect dots between her and her son. Bad idea? Yeah, probably. But every time he saw Peter, he wondered what the boy would think of him if this came out; if Natasha died, and Peter didn't know, Tony would have to live with looking the kid in the eye whilst he had actively hidden that knowledge from him. Furthermore, he couldn't quite shirk the thought, again that Peter was convinced that he was an orphan, when he wasn't. He had grieved Richard and Mary Parker, convinced the latter gave birth to him and that both of them had intentionally conceived him, when they didn't.
There was so much hanging over the boy, and he had no idea about a lick of it. It would utterly blindside him if it got out - his trust with his aunt would take a hit, at the least, not to mention how it would reframe his entire life. His parents wouldn't be his parents anymore - not in the way they were right now, that was for sure. His aunt and uncle wouldn't be his aunt and uncle. His father was nearly fifteen years dead and his mother had specifically avoided him for about that length of time. Not to mention-
Tony rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn, scowling. So much at stake, so much was ready to collapse if pressure was applied in just the right way, and all Tony could do was watch.
