Chapter 34 - We Just Need A Little Time

The room was dark when Tony came to. This kept happening to him. He would just close his eyes for a bit and by the time he would wake up, it'd be almost night time. Not that he had anywhere to be. No deadline, no appointment, except... right, the kid.

"FRI, is—"

He stopped as something stirred next to his bed. Peter.

The boy rose to his feet, his movements slow for the little spider's usual demeanor.

"Did I... did I wake you?"

"Nn'..." Tony rubbed a hand over his throat. Not that it did much for him. The breathing tube had left its mark on Tony's throat, it still felt rough. There was also the thick supportive bandage wrapped around his neck. The kind of injuries his neck sustained could not just be fixed with the cradle. They'd have to wait for the swelling around his spine to go down further on its own. That would take time.

A glass of water appeared in his field of vision and he looked up into the face of his intern. The water was cool, soothing the strain in his throat.

"Thanks, kid." He took another sip from the straw. "You didn't wake me."

Peter nodded, still holding onto the glass. The boy's face was tense. Of course, he was still be miffed about the whole argument they had on the phone. Tony had expected that. Though there seemed to be more to it. More emotion than just annoyance. He could usually read the kid like an open book, but something was throwing him off.

"You still mad?"

The kid's jaw was moving like he was trying to bite his tongue but then decided not to. "You wired 6720 Dollars into my aunt's bank account."

Oh. That. "I did."

The kid's mouth worked soundlessly before he swallowed hard. "You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's crazy!" He slammed the water glass back on the table next to Tony's bed. His movements were a little more forceful than was strictly necessary. The glass rattled and swayed, but Peter was fast enough to keep it from spilling. "You can't just give me a bunch of money and think I will shut up about all of this."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Hm. Your tone sure 's changed."

"Mr. Stark you paid me twice what my aunt makes per hour. Do you not know how this looks?"

Tony frowned. "Like... like 'm happy with your work?"

"You need to send a correction." The boy had his arms crossed in front of him, but his eyes kept drifting away from Tony. "Take it back!"

His throat still hurt and when he cleared it, he was careful not to let that show on his face. Instead, he tried to move up a little in the bed, get into a somewhat more upright position. "That's ridic'lous. You worked more hours th'n I could even put... put on that timesheet." Peter groaned and turned away from him. "Wait. You' aunt earns 15 dollars an hour?" He tried to press himself up on his elbows at least. This whole thing where he was lying down, having to take the kid raging at him did not sit all that well with him.

Peter's hands were balled up in fists as he started pacing. "It's more when it's the weekend or... or night shifts. She... she's doing her best, there's just no— Stop that, Mr. Stark. You'll hurt yourself."

The kid rushed forward and got a hold of Tony's upper arm. Like his weight was nothing, the boy stabilized him enough elevate the headrest and then prop up Tony's pillows behind his back before he let go of his arm.

"Pete..." Tony wanted to reach for him, but losing balance and possibly landing on his face next to the bed seemed like a bad idea. "It's not your aunt's fault that her employer 's an ass who doesn't pay her prop'rly."

"It's..." the boy shook his head. "It's not like that. He has a lot of people who work there and with the hotel being open 24 hours they have to make—"

"Okay, no. Stop. That's... that's not..." He wasn't going to get into a lesson on economics with the kid. "Pete, jus' take the damn money. If your aunt makes $15 an hour, 'ou both need it."

"We don't need your charity. I don't want it, okay? You can't bribe me to shut me up!"

Tony's jaw dropped and there was a coldness spreading through his veins at Peter's voice. He tried to keep his own temper low, not to give in to the frustration this all riled up in him. The kid was properly agitated, angry to a level that was new. Well, not entirely new, but scarcely presented itself. Not since that one day in the lab a few months ago. "Jus' breathe, Pete, a'right? It's no'... not charity. You worked hard. Long hours. More th'n I eve' ask' of 'ou." His speech was beginning to slur again and he tried to concentrate. Something was up.

"I didn't do that for the money. It was never about money! I just... I couldn't even..." The kid turned his back to him, kept more and more distance between them.

"Breathe, Pete." He might have to remind himself of that as well. If the kid had an episode now, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even get out of bed to help him through it, hold him. "Just breathe. It's a paid internsh'p. You work f' me. It's not controversial."

"You already paid me. You made the suit for me. It's... this is too much." The boy was still pacing, not even looking at Tony. "You can't just do stuff like that. You can't just go ahead and do whatever you want without telling me. Without considering the consequence. That's not fair. I have to deal with whatever you decide to as well. What am I supposed to do if you don't even tell me—if I don't know what's coming? It's not fair."

Tony's lungs were burning, but he was still trying for breaths as deep and calm as he could manage. "Are we still talkin' about th' money?"

The kid had his back turned to Tony. His arms were wrapped around his torso like he was holding himself together.

"Pete, I need 'ou t' take a breath an... and ge' a grip on your temper. If you lose control of you... your senses now, I can't—"

"I'm fine." He turned and faced Tony, his eyes burning. "Stop making this about me. This is not about me!"

Tony gnawed on his lip, genuinely trying to suppress his own temper now. "List'n, if you want t' pick a fight, we can fight." Peter didn't budge. He was halfway across the room, but his shoulders were tensely pulled back, head still held high. He didn't back down even an inch. Tony tried to focus, to bundle his strength. "We can start with your stunt a' the Bank 'f America Financial Center."

The boy's face did fall at that and his arms fell along with his face, swung loosely by his side, his feet stuck in place, not moving at all now.

"Go' anything t' say for yourself?"

A shallow shade of pink was slowly creeping up from the kid's beck. His voice a lot lower now, quietly pleading. "It's... Mr. Stark, it's not what you think. I made sure—"

"It's not wha' I think? Really? So, when I asked you if... if you'd been stupid enough t' go out there befo'... before I checked the suit an' you said no, you weren't lying?"

Tony's hands twisted around the sheet's fabric, fighting his frustrations hard not to overtake his emotions. The kid wasn't even listening. He was just staring at the ground. "Peter!"

His eyes shot up at Tony, round and wide. "I'm sorry, I—" He blinked a couple of time, then he stepped forward and bend down, reaching for—

Tony's breath caught in his throat as Peter picked up the picture that had fallen to the floor. One hand instinctively reached underneath his pillow, but— nothing. The kid had propped it up so Tony could sit a little more upright.

"Give me that!" He bit out, surprising himself with the decent amount of panic that had slipped into his voice.

Peter twitched at the tone of his voice then quickly stepped closer. Tony snatched it from his hand, carefully wiped the dust off it before he clutched it close. The sudden silence in the room was overwhelming. All Tony could hear was the erratic pulse of his own heart. He couldn't bring himself to look up, eyes glued to the sheets on his bed. The photo was sturdy in his hand, having never been taken out of the frame until just the day before. His eyes fell shut for just s second. This was ridiculous. He was completely overreacting. This... this wasn't a big deal. It was fine. There was nothing to freak out about. Aiden wasn't a dirty little secret. There was nothing wrong with Tony having a picture of his son on him.

He took a couple of deep breaths, eyes still cast down to where his hand covered most of the picture, pressed it against his chest. There was still a part of him that tried to keep Aiden to himself, not just because of the loss and the pain, but because he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he had to hold onto every single detail, hold every memory of his son close to his heart. That if he wouldn't, he might lose it all.

Irrational. Emotional. Broken. He'd been stuck in this state for years and if he was honest with himself he had never even had the desire to let any of it go. Even now, just the thought of the hole that letting go of that pain and heartache would leave him with, formed a knot in his stomach that made his blood run cold. The kid had retreated a few steps, his eyes wide and straight on Tony at first but he quickly turned his eyes down when Tony shot a glance in his direction.

"Sorry, kid, erm..." Tony cleared his throat. It wasn't that he didn't trust the kid. Of course he did. Over the last few months, Peter had proven his loyalties, sometimes more insistently than Tony was really okay with. But this was different. It was personal. This might open the door to something he wasn't really ready for.

"That's... that's my son."

Peter had stopped his fidgeting. He stood pretty motionless, still in about the same spot where the picture had fallen, his voice just as low as Tony's. "I... I didn't know that you have a son, Sir."

"It's..." His tongue felt heavy. The words just didn't really want to come out. He looked up at the kid. "It's complicated."

The boy's innocence was painted on his face, shining clear and bright like a giant neon sign. The question of what had happened so plainly radiating from him, the reluctance to ask written in his eyes.

"Not... not that complicated actually." Tony sighed, his lungs deflating. "He... he's gone. He got taken, when he was very young."

"Oh, that's..." Peter's eyebrows were knitted closely together, fingers silently picking at each other. "I'm... I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark."

Tony gave a short nod, his teeth biting his lower lip. "It was a long time ago." He hesitated for a moment, the picture still closely pressed to his chest, painfully aware how Peter's eyes wander down to it again and again before the boy caught himself and looked somewhere else. A sudden impulse had him stretch out his arm and he held out the picture for Peter so take. The kid only stared at his hand at first. Then as he realized, what was happening, he stepped closer to the bed again and carefully took the photograph. His head was bent down, hair falling into his face, hiding his eyes from Tony.

"You... you look really young in this," the kid said, eyes still on the picture.

Tony couldn't help but huff in a low chuckle. There was a faint red flush creeping into the boy's cheeks as he looked up.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, that sounded awful. I didn't mean that you look old now. I mean, older, but like not like crazy old, I—"

The cold dread in his chest ebbed away, replaced by a surge of warm affection for that hopelessly babbling kid in front of him. "It's fine, Pete." The smile on his face softened a bit. "It's been some years since this was taken."

The kid shot him an apologetic grimace then turned his eyes back to the picture.

It had been a long time. More than 13 years. Aiden would be 13 now. Not all that much younger than Peter was actually. Of course, if anyone would bother to really see the kid they'd notice that the Spiderling actually looked younger than he was. Before the spider bite, he must have seemed completely out of place among his peers. Now, at a casual glance he didn't look like a kid all that much, not even in those baggy shirts he wore to the lab. His abs and shoulders, the ridiculous muscle mass on his arm and legs, all that might fool people especially when he was jumping around in the suit. Made them think what they saw was a young adult. It sure had fooled Tony at first. The strength, the speed, the control he had over his body made it seem like he was older, but underneath that mask... the soft, curved lines of his face, the giddy energy, and that innocent puppy dog look in his eyes told a different story. He was still just a young boy. A young boy who'd already been through a lot.

Tony never really thought of Aiden as a teenager. How could he? When he closed his eyes and thought of his son he saw the round face of a 2-year-old toddler. The cheeky grin, little stubby legs. Those tiny toes when he would waddle across the carpet. To think of him as a teenager... His boy growing into an adult... That just underlined the one thing Tony didn't want to face. All the years, all the time he had missed.

It beat the alternative of course. To think that Aiden might have never even gotten the chance to grow up at all, even without Tony. No, it was so much more bearable to keep the kid in his heart like he had known and loved him. Not to imagine what might have been, what could be. If there was one thing Tony had learned over the years, it was how little control he had over that anyway.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Peter held out the photograph for him to take back. "I'm really sorry, Sir. I... I don't really know—"

"You don't have to say anything, Pete." He carefully tucked the picture underneath the sheets on the far side of the bed, desperate to change the subject. "Tell me what happened at that bank?"

The kid grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, nervously scratching his head. "I was... It was an accident. I didn't... It's not like I went out looking for something like that." His eyes were pleading, desperate for Tony to believe him. "I really wasn't, Sir. I was trying to stick to like... the small things, nothing flashy. Just... just trying to win back people's trust, like you said."

"Right." Tony pursed his lips. "Just like I said."

The kid's cheeks turned a faint red color. "I mean, you... you did say that. When we were—"

"I remember, kid." Careful to make clear, that that wasn't the part he was objecting to. "Go on."

"It was just one guy and I thought it wouldn't be a problem at all, but... well, it had seemed like it was just one guy. But it wasn't. There were six other guys waiting in the bank."

Tony's breath caught in his throat at the mental images his brain conjured up of the kid trying to fight off 7 grown men at once.

"It was fine." Peter spread out his arms, stopping him from interrupting. "The robbers weren't all that difficult to take out, but the NYPD showed up faster than I thought and then the chief shot at me but the suit it—"

"He what?" Tony's throat burned from the sudden outburst and he curled in on himself as a fit of coughs rolled over him.

"Mr. Stark!" The kid stepped closer, one hand on Tony's back, the other one bracing him by the shoulder so he wouldn't keel over. "Nothing happened, Sir. The bullet just brushed my foot but the suit absorbed the friction. It was not a big deal."

"They sho' at you?" His voice was weak, still recovering from the cough triggered down deep in his throat.

"Just... just the one guy. The chief guy." Peter's hand rubbed soothing circles into Tony's back and Tony was vaguely aware that he didn't like this dynamic where the kid was worried about him. Taking care of him. "He was a little hostile, but I got out there fast."

The chief guy... fucking Clarke. One day Tony was gonna punch that asshole in the face. Peter held up the glass of water for him. The cool liquid did help with his agitated throat.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I... I promise I checked the suit with FRIDAY. I didn't just ignore what you said, I promise."

Tony pushed the glass away, tried to get a grip of his voice. "You wan'ed to get back out there, I... I ge' that. But I asked you... Kid, I asked you if you'd been going on patrol."

"I... I'm sorry. I am. Mr. Stark please, I just... I just panicked and I didn't want you to get mad. You'd just woken up and I didn't—"

"Stop, it's..." Tony took a couple of deep breaths, shook his head at the boy's excuses. "I don't like this." He shot a sharp glance up in the kid's direction to make that clear. "Don't like it one bit but... I guess it is wha' it is. Jus'... just don't do something stupid like this again. I can't... can't have you lying to me, sneaking around behind my back. We all screw up, bu' you have to trust me, alright?" He reached for the boy's wrist and was taken aback as Peter looked up at him, his eyes deep dark pools of regret and embarrassment. He looked like he was about to cry. "Hey... buddy, come on..." A small tug on his arm was enough and Peter sat down on the bed and carefully settled his arms around him, his head on Tony's shoulder. His face was turned away, impossible for Tony to read. The kid simply held onto him. He was so close, Tony would actually hear how fast his heart was racing. "It's... It is what it is. You're forgiven, alright. I just... I need you to be careful."

Peter gave a few small nods and sniffed in a couple of breaths. Tony ruffled a hand through the kid's hair and silently thanked the universe and just in case any deity that might be listening after all, that the boy was unharmed and safe. This could have been bad, but Peter was fast and strong and clever. Tony would be happy to thank his lucky stars for that and beg them to keep it like that as often as they were willing to listen. The kid still held onto him and Tony took a deep breath, resting his cheek on the top of the boy's head. This could have been a lot worse. The thought struck him that in his arrogance Tony could have actually taken the kid with him to Siberia. It wasn't the first time that this horror scenario popped up in his head. The more he thought about it the sicker he felt just imagining the hypothetical what-if the Spiderling had been in the bunker with him.

They wouldn't have made it out alive. Peter at best. But Tony would have torn Barnes apart, as well as Rogers if they had even tried to put a finger on the boy and in return, Tony would have likely suffered even worse at their hands for it.

Tony tried to get his pulse under control, refused to let his body react with the shudder that was brewing underneath his skin. He couldn't dwell on this. It didn't happen and he sure wouldn't let them anywhere near the kid. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Stark Industries intern. That was it until the kid had done some turning 21. Peter's arms were still slung tightly around him. He still seemed upset, so Tony allowed himself to keep the kid in his arms a little longer, held him close like he could protect him from all this craziness. He couldn't. He was sensible enough to know that. He couldn't even keep his own kid safe and that was before super soldiers and aliens had become part of his life. But he could at least try his best.

"There's a condition fo' the forgive 'n forget though." The kid went rigid in his arms. "You ditch tha' shop boy thing an' you're gonna keep the money, alright?"

At that, Peter pulled away at last, still balanced on the edge of the bed. "But... but Sir, it's..."

"This's not up fo' debate."

The kid looked down to his knees, gnawing on his lower lip. "You're not gonna shut me up by giving me money."

"It's not a bribe," Tony sighed. "There're a few zeros missin' for it te be a bribe, kid."

Peter pulled a face, his eyes unfocused, looking for something to counter with.

"Don't argue with me. I nee' peace and quiet." He had his eyebrows raised, lips pulled to the side in a smirk but the line didn't really land. Peter just stared down, fists clutching onto the edge of the bed. Tony frowned. "Kid, if you need to—"

"Fine. Okay." The kid's face was still drawn in a weird mixture of shame and sorrow.

"You know... the gen'ral consens's is that earning good money is a good thing."

Eyes still turned away from him, Peter nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Stark," he whispered.

Something was up. This wasn't like Peter. He might blush and radiate some teenage awkwardness but depressive almost shameful demure wasn't like him. A lot had happened in the past weeks. It was a lot to process and Peter didn't really have anyone to talk about all this, so maybe... maybe he just needed time. Tony was back now and he'd get this sorted. All they needed was a little time.


##


The vague shadows of houses and trees were racing by outside of the car's window. It was dark and while his night vision was pretty excellent he still couldn't really concentrate on anything out there in particular. He felt like shit. Like an idiot. This had been such a fucking dumb idea. He should have just minded his own damn business, but no. He just had to know. He just had to betray every ounce of trust Mr. Stark had put in him.

It hadn't just been a mission. It was personal. Deeply, deeply personal. Peter had thought about it, just coming clean. If he'd just told him right there, Mr. Stark would have been mad. He would have been really, really mad but maybe... maybe if he had confessed...

Roger's face popped up in front of his mental eye. The bald-faced lie on his lips. The lie he had told right to Mr. Stark's face. The betrayal in Mr. Stark's voice.

Peter really had been meaning to confess at first, to tell Mr. Stark what he'd done. There had been a chance that Mr. Stark would forgive him, eventually, if he had just come out and told him. But as he had sat in that room, his back leaned again the hospital bed, he lost his nerve. It wasn't just that he was scared of Mr. Stark's reaction. It was more than that. He'd betrayed his trust. Much like his team had and Peter just couldn't pile on. The man had been through so much, had lost so much. More than Peter had even been aware of as he had found out today.

When he was back at the apartment, Peter had kind of forgotten about his patrol. Instead, he had googled Aiden Stark. There had been quite a bit of information, but most of it dated back years and Peter soon found out that most of it were embellished tales retold in tabloid after tabloid. He had spent a couple of hours on a Tony Stark fan forum reading a few threads were people had exchanged all kinds of theories on what had happened. He had a hard time telling what was gossip and what were actual facts but soon realized that actual facts were hard to come by. There was hardly anything, except for a couple of news articles from 2003 where the press seemed to have picked up on Mr. Stark having a son at all. There were no pictured except for the ones attached to the articles writing about Aiden's disappearance. Two pictures of a two-year-old toddler so the public could keep an eye out for the boy. The same two pictures were used again and again in other stories detailing Mr. Stark and Miss Potts' search that took them all over the globe. One of those had a picture of Mr. Stark next to it, taken somewhere in South America. Maybe people who didn't know him wouldn't be able to tell but Peter could see the pain written across the man's face all too plainly.

It made his stomach turn and he cursed himself out, closing all the different tabs he had opened in his search. This was private. He was being nosy and that wasn't okay. But as he shut the laptop and lay on his bed in the dark he couldn't help but let his thoughts drift back to Mr. Stark. To all the things that had happened to him, had scared him. It made a little more sense now why he tried to keep Peter away from the thick of the action, even if the man was taking it too far. Peter was not a little boy. He was Spider-Man after all.

He had made up his mind that night though. There would be no way Peter could tell his mentor about what he had done. Ever. Peter would have to live with the guilt. A confession wouldn't absolve him. It would do nothing but hurt Mr. Stark and he couldn't do that. Not now.

Mr. Stark would never find out, Peter would make sure of it.

As the days went by it did seem like it would be easier to keep this secret than Peter had thought. Things still were a little rocky at first. He would travel out to the Compound on his regular lab days and also whenever May would work during the day. Late afternoons and evenings were for Spider-Man patrols. He had gotten May's blessing to drop the summer job at the store and after she had talked to about 4 different departments to make sure that they wouldn't owe Stark Industries any refund on his paycheck and that the hourly rate was approved for the kind of projects Peter helped out with, she let it go.

They both knew that the money would help a great deal but it wasn't hard to pick up the underlying irk that May harbored about what Peter's wage said about her own earnings. Originally, Peter had thought that with this all sorted out, May might warm a bit more to Mr. Stark. That it would make her not just tolerate but embrace the amount of time Peter would spend at the internship. That wasn't really the case though, hence he stuck to additional hours only when May was at work, or when he could use meeting his friends as a convenient excuse. He rarely used the latter though, just in case Ned or anyone from the decathlon team would bust his alibi.

The first couple of weeks Peter traveled out to the Compound, he still tried his best not to run into anyone. While Mr. Stark was still recovering in the medical wing his presence would have been highly suspicious and while Mr. Stark didn't necessarily seem to stress it, Peter had already decided on that strategy himself. He couldn't risk having to explain himself. Miss Potts went back to LA after about a week. That had definitely been helpful. After another week, Mr. Stark had been well enough - or stubborn enough, Peter hadn't really made his mind up about that - to move back to the Tower. That made things a little easier.

The minute Mr. Stark was back in the lab, he started working on leg braces for Colonel Rhodes and Peter was grateful for a complex project like that to take his mind off of things. It brought back some routine between the two of them. In the hours they spend leisurely working next to each other he almost felt normal again. Like they hadn't gone through this big dramatic event. Mr. Stark tried to talk to him about Germany a few times, probed for any lasting anxiety and trauma that Peter might have been left with. He would usually start by telling Peter about Colonel Rhodes' physical therapy and then pivot.

The thing was, Germany was not what was weighing on Peter's heart. Yes, it had been quite the fight and everything that came from it was hard to stomach, but nothing could measure up to the cold dread he felt every time the image of Captain America's shield popped into his head. It was hard to avoid as well. Talk about the Rogues was still ongoing. Articles upon articles, memes, and gifs, they were difficult to escape and every time that Vibranium shield smashing into Mr. Stark's helmet flashed in front of his eyes, how it had caved in his mentor's chest.

Peter would get over it. It just... it would take some time but he'd just bleach all that from his brain. They were gone. They were irrelevant. At least that was he was telling himself. A lie that was harder and harder to stick to.

As much as he wanted to just slip back into his routine, things had changed and his perspective on some stuff had simply shifted. Every time he went out on patrol, he found himself missing some of those features he had so gotten used to in the week before Mr. Stark had woken from his coma. The web grenade and rapid-fire. He also kind of missed Karen. It was nice to have someone to talk to while he was on patrol and she was really cool and helpful and it made things so much easier and safer when he had her assistance. Not even Mr. Stark would be able to argue against that. He wanted Peter to stay safe and Karen definitely helped him to stay safer.

Eight days he managed to resist, then he got lost following a burglar into an underground maze of basements. It took him almost an hour of dragging the guy around till he found an open door to get back overground without having to bust out any windows or locked doors. It was ridiculous. Karen would have had him out of there in minutes. He promised himself, he'd only use it when he really needed it. He'd only use that one file. It would be fine.

It would be fine!

A few lines of code was all he needed and he had implemented direct access to the ghost drive on his phone. He would turn off the training wheels in emergencies. Just when he really needed it. It turned out... well, it turned out, he needed it a lot.

Just a couple of taps on his phone and Karen with answers to questions he didn't even know to ask, was right there to help. It had to be that easy to access otherwise what good was it in an emergency. But now that he had opened that gate once more, it became harder and harder to resist the temptations to see what else what on that server. He had maneuvered himself into the most predictable tight spot imaginable.

It took another two weeks. He was at the Tower for his regular Wednesday lab day. It was not even lunchtime yet, they had just barely begun to work on the project for the day.

"Boss, there is an urgent call from Secretary Ross."

Mr. Stark froze. His eyes shot up to the ceiling, then to Peter.

"Kitchen. Go on. Stay quiet!"

Peter knew better than to argue. Secretary Ross was a sore spot with Mr. Stark. He hated him and Peter couldn't really blame him. Ross and his Accord policies had been a major factor in all of this Avengers mess.

"Open the line, FRI."

Peter had his back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, all he could see were the flickering lights of the video call. He could hear just fine though and Mr. Stark would have to know that. A couple of months ago, it would have flattered him immensely, that Mr. Stark was fine with Peter overhearing that conversation. Now though, there was always that silent betrayal in the back of his head, a little voice reminding him how he had broken his mentor's trust. How he had gone behind his back and just taken what he had no right to take.

"You have to get to the Raft, Stark. ASAP!"

Mr. Stark cleared his throat, his tone tense. "What seems to be the problem, Mr. Secretary?"

"We've lost contact. Rogers showed up!" Ross was agitated, if not even panicked. "The Rogues! They are gone."

His arms tightened around Peter's torso. They had escaped? His throat felt dry, his heartbeat spiked, but he couldn't freak out. He had to stay calm.

"What do you want me to do there, Ross? Look at your empty cells?"

The man's voice hadn't changed. It was tense but low and still quite calm. Peter's legs twitched. He had to stop himself from trying to sneak a peek at Mr. Stark's reaction.

"This is an emergency."

"This was an emergency. Me flying out to somewhere in the pacific isn't gonna magically bring them back."

"Stark, you can't refuse me. You signed the Accords, don't forget that."

"I did."

"This is a code B2!"

"Is it? You have the UN council's decision for me to intervene?"

Peter's hands grabbed the edge of the kitchen's countertop, physically restraining himself from intervening himself.

"It's... this is US business. I'm the Secretary of State and I order you to—"

"You have no authority to order me anywhere, Mr. Secretary. Only the United Nations' council does."

"Stark, I'm warning you! You can't just ignore my—"

"Get confirmation from the council, Ross. Don't bother me again until you do. FRI."

The light that had flickered in all the way to the kitchenette was turned off abruptly. Peter pushed himself away from the counter and carefully glanced around the corner in Mr. Stark's direction. The video stream was gone and Peter didn't hesitate to walk back out into the lab.

"Mr. Stark, are you really not gonna go?"

The man was quiet for a moment, eyes on the project that had been left untouched in front of him. It would be a lie for Peter to pretend that he wasn't somewhat relieved that is mentor hadn't gone out there on a whim. He wasn't even 100% healed.

"There's no point, Pete. They are gone."

"But... but shouldn't we at least—"

"WE will do absolutely nothing. I, however, will monitor this and have FRIDAY update me on the developments."

Mr. Stark didn't even give Peter the courtesy to look at him as he was lecturing him and it was starting to really nag Peter.

"Kid..." Peter flinched and tried to keep his face a little more neutral as he looked up at his mentor. "I don't want to have to remind you of our deal."

Peter made an effort not to have his hands ball into fists, to keep his body somewhat relaxed. "Yes, Sir."

Of course he didn't. Mr. Stark wanted to keep him as far away from them as possible. He wanted to handle all of this on his own when it had worked out so well the last time. Peter couldn't quite meet his eyes, his teeth worried as his lip as he strongly tried to keep the frustration out of his face. Mr. Stark could read him like an open book. He had proven that many times before and Peter was not in the mood for another of those lectures.

"Flat mirco cable needs to be soldered on right here." Mr. Stark pointed at the open wiring they had been working on just before Ross had phoned in. "You up for it?"

Peter nodded. He wasn't fooled. Mr. Stark was trying to change the subject, to distract him, but that wouldn't work. Peter would find his own way to stay up to date on all these developments. He wouldn't just stand by and do nothing. He was Spider-Man after all.


###


[author's note: I know, I left you waiting quite a bit. And while there have been longer gaps in my update schedule, I am sorry about that! I had a couple of story arc stuff to fix, but things are looking good for faster updates in the future ;)

Hope you enjoyed reading the new chapter. Thank you all so much for the lovely comments and favoriting the story!]