A/N: I've seen a lot of Peter as Tony's biological kid meeting Howard and Maria, but never one where he isn't related to Tony but they still have a father-son relationship. So, I decided to play around with that idea.

Of course, I don't know how to write Howard (or Maria), so I hope this is good enough.

It's a slow day at the Compound.

Peter has stayed the night, and will likely stay a few more days, with May out of town. He knows he's grown up and wouldn't have a problem fending off for himself, but he wasn't against the idea of staying with Tony when they suggested, not when Peter really hates being alone for too long. It's good that Peter gets to be spoiled by Tony, even if he would never in a million years admit it to anyone.

Tony is probably in a meeting or something like it since Peter arrives at the kitchen with a set breakfast table, and a little sticky note telling him "be back at 12". It's around 10 AM right now, so that would take a while.

He yawns dramatically, aware he must look like a mess right now, and he sure is hungry. Peter takes the cereal box and puts some in the bowl, later filling it with milk, all the while looking at his phone. It's a good thing he doesn't have school today, as it's spring break. Ned is throwing a lot of questions at him, knowing Peter is at the Compound, so of course his best friend is excited to know he's "hanging out with The Tony Stark". Well, not exactly now, but still true.

Peter is laughing at some memes while chewing on cereal, when his senses detect a presence. He almost assumes it's Tony, hopefully coming back earlier, but then… he realizes it's actually two presences, unlike any he knows. He also hears some frantic talking, coming from a woman's voice.

"… Howard, you can't just enter like this!"

"I'm his father, I have the right to be here as I want—"

Before Peter can really do anything, the automatic door opens to a senior couple right when he's chewing a handful of cereal and milk, and the three are staring at one another like they're in a sitcom and the audience is bursting in laughter. They're… well, not horrified. The woman is shocked, while the man is… disgusted? Suspicious?

And there's something about him, too. Something… familiar.

Howard…

WAIT.

The Howard Stark?

Peter almost chokes on the cereal and milk, swallowing it all in one go. Thank goodness he has enhanced metabolism.

"What on earth is this?" Howard looks at this wife – Maria, if Peter isn't mistaken (after all, he's read Tony's biography quite too many times for the average person) –, expecting an answer from her, but she only replies with surprised silence.

"Uh…" Peter clears his throat. "You're… Mr. Stark's parents?"

Howard raises an eyebrow. "Who's asking?"

The teenager stands up and approaches, raising a hand.

"I'm Peter. Parker."

Howard stares at his hand with distaste, then he's judging Peter's appearance up and down. Now the latter feels extremely self-conscious and more embarrassed than ever.

The man doesn't bother shaking his hand, though Maria does so for him.

"Maria," she whispers, though not seeming very welcoming of Peter, either.

"So, he refuses to speak to me all these years… I understand now." Howard shakes his head in disapproval, then he mumbles to his wife, "I told you, one of these days Anthony was going to get a poor girl with a full plate."

Peter's cheeks heat up like a stove.

"O-Oh no, no, no, I'm not…"

"What? Speak up, boy."

"I'm…" Peter looks down, finding his Iron Man socks. "I'm not related to Mr. Stark, sir."

"Then why are you here, on your pajamas, like this is your house?"

Peter is redder than a tomato, unable to look at Howard in the eye. He almost wants to argue that the Compound isn't his house, either, but he figures it's useless to pick up a fight with Tony's father.

"It's… complicated?" He replies, aware that explaining to them that he's a superhero wouldn't be the best idea.

Maria looks at Howard with confusion and concern, while the man suddenly laughs. Peter almost wishes he stayed in bed.

"I don't believe this. Is he taking in random kids for charity?" Howard asks, but doesn't expect an answer, because he just keeps laughing.

"Well, uh… Mr. Stark is busy right now, if you want something until he comes back—"

"Who do you think you are, boy?" Howard is immediately dead serious. "You said yourself you're not even a Stark. I doubt you're a special intern."

Peter gulps. He knew very little about the elder Stark, besides what media tells him, and that time Tony said that his father had never given him support. Peter already suspected Howard wasn't the best, but he never expected it to be this bad.

He can only imagine what it must've been like for Tony growing up.

"I-I said it's complicated—"

"No one is going to take you seriously mumbling like a little mouse."

"Listen, just… make yourselves at home, it's going to take a while for Mr. Stark to be back."

Howard scoffs. "Make yourselves at home," he mocks his voice.

"Howard," Maria scolds.

Peter swallows the urge to scream for Tony to get here as soon as possible, knowing he must be very busy.

"You probably have business with Mr. Stark, so I'll just… go to my room."

"Oh, no, come on, Mr. Parker. Enlighten us."

He doesn't have to obey him, sure, but this is Tony's father, and Peter is far from a jerk, even if he wants to. Even if Howard doesn't deserve any kindness for how he's acting.

"Actually," Howard is sitting in one of the chairs while Maria watches, looking down like she's ashamed, "since you're being so nice, Mr. Parker, would you care to see what drinks you have in store?"

Peter is stuck in this mess, so he does what he's told, going quickly with it, too.

"Well, there's nothing much… only water, coffee…"

Even while not looking, he's aware Howard is rolling his eyes. "I know Anthony. There must be alcohol somewhere in this place."

The boy searches in the cabinets, indeed finding a bottle of scotch.

"Ah, there it is," Howard speaks from afar. "With ice, please."

Peter tries his hardest not to groan out of his mind, instead taking a few ice cubes and handing the glass to the man. Maria doesn't sit, only stands on her feet next to her husband. He's on the other side of where Peter was sitting, and the boy is back with his breakfast. He suddenly doesn't feel hungry anymore, but he still eats out of politeness.

His once peaceful breakfast is now the most uncomfortable he's even been stuck in, and he can sense Howard watching his every move. Peter doesn't dare look up and finishes the bowl of cereal quietly. It's all mushy now, so it's not even pleasant anymore, and he feels like throwing up.

"You know, Peter," Howard says derogatorily, "I'm very curious. If you're not a Stark or an intern, what's your relationship with my son?" He doesn't take his eyes off Peter while he takes the bottle of scotch and fills his glass again.

Peter inhales, not sighing, knowing that wouldn't be the best reaction. "It's—"

"Complicated?" Howard mocks him again. "Don't bullshit me, boy."

"Howard," Maria tries again, but she doesn't go beyond the occasional scold.

"I know Tony, and I know he would never give a flying crap about having a sleep over with a random child."

Peter's fists tighten under the table. He's trying, but then…

"… you're wrong."

The tenseness spike up immediately.

"Excuse me?"

The teen finally stares back.

"Mr. Stark is my—" Peter sighs, "He takes care of me, okay? He's the nicest person I know, the greatest hero, and he- he cares about me."

Howard's eyes narrow with hatred.

"You seriously think that Tony Stark would ever go out of his way to take care of a little brat like you?" He scoffs. "I doubt it. He probably pities you."

Peter's firmness is gone within the blink of an eye.

"He… He does like me," he tries, only for Howard to laugh again.

"You're not even sure about it, are you?"

Sure, he has anxiety, but…

"If you think Anthony would ever want anything to do with you, you could not be more wrong," Howard is serious again. "You are not his son, you are not worthy of being a Stark, because Stark men are made of iron, and you… are far from it."

He wants that awful, terrible man to be wrong, but Peter finds himself unable to fight back. Maria doesn't even try to defend him; she barely acknowledges his presence.

The moment Peter stands up, the door is opening again, and someone is not pleased.

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

That voice… doesn't bring him safety anymore.

Peter doesn't even look back.

He runs away.

"Peter-!"

The door is closed, hard.

And… he cries, after holding it for so long.

"What did you do to him?"

"Really, Anthony, this is low, even for you."

"Don't you dare tell me what is low or not."

"I'm your father, show me some respect."

Tony grits his teeth, suppressing the urge to invoke his repulsors.

"So, I arrive here, and I find this kid in pajamas who thinks it's his house, claiming that 'Mr. Stark' clearly cares about him." Howard mocks Peter's voice, and is about to take another glass of scotch, only for Tony to take the bottle away from him, because he knows what's about to happen if he keeps drinking. "Do you really expect me to believe you've been adopting random kids just to fulfill your pathetic life?"

"You don't get to say anything about Peter."

Howard laughs, "Oh, so it's true. You do care about him." He spits on the floor. "You've become soft, Anthony. I wonder who taught you."

"Certainly not you."

"Of course. I would never let my son adopt some sissy."

Tony inhales like his head is on fire, letting out smoke like in an old cartoon.

"You have three seconds to get your sorry ass out of here before I call security."

"Oh, so soon?"

"Don't fucking test me, Howard."

The old man rolls his eyes dramatically and raises his hands like Tony is pointing a gun at him. Of course, like the "victim" he claims to be.

"Alright, fine. Go be with your precious little Peter. So much for wasted time."

Tony glares at Howard standing up, Maria following him. She only glances at her son without saying a word. It's been this way for as long as he remembers that Tony is barely fazed by it.

The two finally leave the kitchen.

"FRI, make sure they're out of here as quickly as possible," Tony orders.

"Got it, Boss."

He groans out loud. The meeting was already a pain in the ass, when he suddenly learned that his sorry excuse of a father was in the building it almost gave him a heart attack. It was especially worse when he learned he was in the same room as Peter. God, he almost wants Howard to be here just to punch him in the face.

Well, there's no time for that. His kid needs him.

Tony makes his way to the dark corridor, walking up to the closed door in the back. He knocks on it a couple times.

"Peter?"

There's no answer.

"Peter, I'm coming in."

Thankfully, the door isn't locked. Tony is slow with it, not wanting to scare off the kid.

Peter is lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He has headphones covering his ears, and although it's mostly dark, Tony can tell he's been crying. His heart breaks hearing the weak sniff coming from the boy.

Tony presses his fingers against his tired eyes, trying to suppress the anger at Howard so he can help Peter. Then, he takes a few gentle steps towards the bed and sits on the corner. Peter refuses to look at him. He's not sure if he's even listening.

That way, the man reaches for his hand, squeezing it carefully, but ready to stop if Peter doesn't want it. The kid doesn't reject the contact. If anything, he seems to relax, sinking in his bed.

For once, Peter takes off his headphones, but he doesn't say anything.

"… He's gone, okay?" Tony reassures him. "I'll make sure he never gets in here again."

The kid doesn't open his mouth. Tony sighs, like he's been carrying the weight of the world.

"Oh, Pete… what did he do to you?"

Peter sniffs, "N-Nothing, Mr. Stark."

Tony doesn't get mad at the lie. He can't blame the kid.

"Peter… please, look at me."

Like he's afraid – afraid of Tony –, Peter is hesitant, but he complies. It hurts Tony just to imagine him ever being scared of him.

"Talk to me, kiddo," the hero begs. "He hurt you. I'll make sure that doesn't happen ever again, but you've got to tell me what he did."

Peter dries his tears with his sleeve, the MIT hoodie Tony lent to him.

"H-He…" the kid sobs. "He said I'm not…"

Tony doesn't let go of his hand, caressing it with his thumb. The more they stare at one another, Peter's lips quiver.

"H-He said I'm not your son."

Oh.

At his stunned silence, Peter cries harder.

"Peter—"

"I mean, I-I get it, he's right, I'm not your son, I'm not even a Stark, I'm just some- some brat—"

"No, no, nononono. Kid. Peter. Listen to me."

"I-It's okay, Mr. Stark, I get it—"

"Shh… Shhhh…"

Tony is wrapping his arms around Peter, and even though the latter tries to deflect, he ultimately lets it.

"You're not a brat. You're my kid," the man tells him. "You are my son."

"But I'm not a—"

"You don't have to be a Stark to be my son. If anything, I'm glad you aren't a Stark. You're even better, you're Peter Benjamin Parker, and you're the most wonderful kid the world has ever known."

Peter is hiding in Tony's chest, shyly clinging to him.

"Y-You don't… pity me?" The kid asks.

"Of course not, kiddo. I love you."

He immediately faces puppy eyes staring deep into his soul.

"Really?"

"Kid, I could never lie to you, even if I tried." Tony is pushing that one rebellious hair strand out of Peter's face. He's so adorable, he wants to squish him. "Why do you think I like pampering you so much?"

He can tell Peter is blushing. "I dunno."

Tony laughs, but he's soon guilty.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner," he squeezes Peter like he's going to get hurt if he lets go. "If I'd known…"

"It's okay, Tony. He just came barging in where he's not welcome."

"Yeah. God, I want to kick his ass."

"Oh, me too."

Peter has finally stopped crying and has pretty much melted in the hug. They stay like this for a little longer, when Tony has an idea.

"… how about we get you some nice breakfast, hm?" He suggests.

Peter snorts, "At this point it's gonna be brunch."

"Still, you'd better eat more than just cereal. You know, with your spider metabolism."

"Okay, can't argue with that."

Tony pats his back and finally lets go, and they get ready for another adventure. The scotch and pain and resentment are left behind, and the two are going to town, ordering any breakfast Peter could possibly want.

He's glad he's able to break the cycle of shame. He'll forever let Peter know how much he loves him, and hopefully, convince himself that he's loved, too.