"Welcome to the Stark residence, kid."
Peter watched the man stroll into the house, expecting Peter to follow. Peter shuffled an inch inside. It felt like there was a force field trying to push him out. His fractured mind swarmed with uncertainty. What was he doing? He didn't belong here. This was Tony and his family's home. Peter was an outsider. A dangerous intruder. A menace. A pest they needed to exterminate.
The world warped.
Why was he here? How did he get here again? He felt sick. Sick to the stomach and sick to the mind. His head hurt and his body shivered. Cold sweat pricked his neck, juxtapositioning to the heat that flushed his skin. He was melting, yet he felt cold in his bones. Also he felt sick, had he mentioned that? 'Cause he really felt sick.
Oh god.
His body lurched back out the doorway, springing for the bushes just in time for a lump of vomit to expel itself. The taste of acid coated Peter's tongue as he heaved, stomach convulsing violently. He gasped for breaths through each gag.
He needed a hit.
He hadn't had one for about ten hours at this point. He'd been trying to wait it out until he could get a moment alone, but that was hard to do with Tony there. The man had stayed with Peter through the rest of the night and then through the day. And now here they were arriving at Tony's mansion.
And at this point, there was really no getting away from the man, so whatever, Peter was just gonna have to escape to the bathroom and shoot up. He wasn't doing this withdrawal shit anymore. A few hours of it was more than enough.
He felt so sick, he felt like he was dying.
A hand came to rest on his back and Peter lurched backward, stumbling and falling into the bushes (not the vomitty ones thank Odin). His eyes wildly zeroed in on the person who'd touched him. Goatee, fancy glasses, short: Mr. Stark.
"Mr. Stark?" Peter echoed his thoughts. Tony sighed, eyes sympathetic and immediately making Peter feel like a sad piece of shit. "Don't look at me like that."
"I'm not looking at you like anything."
"Yes. You are." Peter shoved himself to his feet and glared at the man, who just tiled his head, expression unchanged. "You're giving me a look of pity. And I told you, I'm not interested in fucking pit-" Well wasn't that just nice. A surprise package of vomit just popped up unexpectedly, giving Peter no advanced warning and therefore spilling into the collar of his jacket.
Awesome.
"Fuck me." Peter muttered, trying to hide it from Tony. "Ok, ok I'm done." He stumbled out of the brambles and started away from the house.
He really fucking needed some heroin.
"Oh no you don't," Tony darted in front of him. "Come on, let's get you out of that jacket."
"What?"
Tony raised an eyebrow. "You got vomit in the collar. I'm sure you don't wanna be hitchhiking down the highway in that for who knows how long."
Peter paused. Maybe Tony was right. He sighed and shed his jacket, turning around so as to discretely (as best he could) dump most of the puke into the bushes. He rolled up the jacket and stuffed it in his backpack.
Tony's outstretched hand fell, "you gonna let me wash that?"
"Hm?" Peter felt his mouth become a thin white line. "I'll wash it when I- uh- later."
Tony's eye flitted to the backpack then Peter. He sighed through his nose. "Ok"
Peter cleared his throat awkwardly, suddenly feeling very cheap.
He really wanted to run.
He really wanted to get high.
Tony grabbed his shoulder and started leading him back. Begrudgingly, Peter followed.
As desperately as he wanted to leave, he'd made a deal. He'd stay overnight. One dinner. One night. Then he could leave.
The entryway was stunning, as expected, which Peter kinda hated. Yeah, it was nice, but it was too big. It was just an entryway for God's sake and it was already ⅔ of the size of his and May's old apartment. Peter just wasn't built for nice things. He liked simple stuff. It was what he was used to. All this was too much. It was too rich for his blood.
Still, he couldn't help but appreciate at least a few things.
The chandelier, for one, was pretty nice, styled to look like it held real candles. Also a pretty teal ottoman and dark oak entryway table sat just inside the door alongside a mirror, reaching all the way to the creamy tile.
But mostly Peter noticed the big potted plant that would make an ideal puke-place.
God he felt sick.
"I need to go to the bathroom."
Tony looked at him with that same expression he had outside. Peter knew that he knew that Peter was going to shoot up in there. The look had a piece of sadness to it as he nodded in the direction of a door just ahead of them.
Peter dipped his head and hurried inside.
When he came out, he felt much better.
Tony was still there, waiting for him. His eyes gave Peter a once-over, face taught. He beckoned with his head. "This way."
Trying to shove down the shame growing in the pit of his stomach, Peter followed further into the house.
"Where're we going?" Peter asked, eying a few famed photos hanging from the walls. Family photos. All happy and carefree.
"To get you cleaned up."
Peter stopped and Tony did also, half-turning to look at him. "What?"
"You smell like garbage and sweat."
"Oh." Peter bit his cheek. "Sorry."
"You can take a shower. There's one in the study's bathroom."
Peter hesitated. He'd just gotten here and he was expected to use their shower? Sure, he smelled, but... but it was weird using a stranger's shower. Peter swallowed. "I can just head back-"
"Don't be ridiculous, kid, it's not a big deal. Do you need clothes?"
"Uh, n-no I, uh, I have some in my bag." He always carried a spare pair of clothes just in case... uh, in case he either pissed himself or threw up all over himself. Lovely, right?
Maybe he did need a shower.
With an uncertain inhale, Peter resumed following Tony down the hall. A door on the left led into a medium (in mansion standards) sized room lined with bookshelves extending from the floor all the way up to the twelve-foot ceiling. Most of the books were dusty except for a handful that looked like textbooks. An empty wood-burning fireplace sat at the far end of the room under a big window with wooden shutters. An armchair sat to the right while a loveseat was on the left, both surrounding a mahogany coffee table that held a tray with a bottle of whiskey and two awaiting glasses.
Tony b-lined it for the whiskey and nodded to the left. "Bathroom's right there. There's shampoo and body wash."
Peter nodded and awkwardly began to shuffle his way towards it, gripping his bag like it was his safety blanket, which it practically was given what it held.
Making his way into the bathroom, he closed the door behind him. Just like the rest of the house he'd seen so far, it was unnaturally nice. High-end fixtures and fancy soaps and towels and all that stuff. Also, it was massive.
God he felt so out of place.
His discomfort lessened when he saw the shower. Peering inside, he admired the shower heads. There were, like, six; two were overhead while the other four lined the sides. It looked intense, but pretty awesome.
"Woah."
Plopping his bag on the counter, he started shedding his clothes. He hadn't realized how grimey they'd become. He sighed and stuffed them into the bottom of his bag alongside his vomity jacket. He'd tried rinsing it off in the sink, but there was only so much he could do.
When he looked up he was met with his reflection.
He'd really come to hate mirrors. They made him look at what he'd become.
Like right now. He looked like complete shit. His eyes were hollow and shadowed with dark circles. His hair was dishevelled and getting long. It had been a few months since he'd had a haircut. More than all that, he was pretty pale; he almost looked green.
He couldn't stand the sight of himself.
With a sigh, he turned away, making his way into the shower.
. . .
He ruffled his hair with the towel, drying it as best he could. He had to admit, it was a good shower and the towel was like a cloud, it was so soft.
Taking a second to mentally prepare himself for... for whatever he was supposed to be doing here, Peter slung his bag over his shoulder and opened the door.
The fireplace was crackling now, filling the room with just enough noise to make it seem alive. Tony was sitting in the armchair. He looked up from his tablet and flicked away what looked like the hologram of a small room.
He nodded in Peter's direction, then frowned for a second before his eyebrows lifted. "You kept it."
Peter tilted his head in question and came to a stop just behind the couch. "Huh?"
"'I survived my trip to New York.' You kept it."
Peter looked down at his shirt. "Oh, yeah, yeah I did, uh, yeah."
The corner of the man's mouth tugged upwards a little and he stood up. "Considering I can't smell you from here, I think we're good to go."
"To go? What am- what am I doing here exactly?"
"Being my guest, that's what." He gestured for Peter to follow, "come on."
Tony threw open the door and was immediately met with the face of a man. "JESUS!" He jerked back, nearly bumping into Peter. "Happy, what the hell?!"
The security guard pointed awkwardly at the door. "I was just about to knock." He peered around Tony, eyes landing on Peter and he squinted suspiciously, "who's the twink?"
Tony's eyebrows shot up at the 'greeting' his head of security offered up.
"Ok first of all, never call him that again. Secondly, What?"
Peter groaned.
"There is a boy standing behind you and I need to make sure he's not a threat. Hey, who are you and what do you want with Tony?"
"You're seriously telling me you don't recognize him?" Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled. "Do you remember that whole conversion we had a month ago?"
"I do not! Who are you?!"
"Ok calm it Hap, it's just Pete."
Pete waved awkwardly.
"Pete. Who's Pete."
"He's Pete."
"I'm Peter."
"Pet-er? Changin' your story already! I don't like the sound of this Tony."
"Don't like the sound of-?! What's going on?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out!"
"What do you mean you're trying to figure this out?! It's Peter. How could you possibly not recognize Peter now that you're looking at him?!"
"I can't recognize someone I've never met before!" Happy's voice was an almost maniacal whisper as he fixed Peter with a stare the young man guessed was either supposed to be threatening or constipated.
"HE'S PETER!" Tony threw his arms in the air, agitation clear. "Peter Par-"
"Jones." Peter interrupted.
Tony turned on him. "What?"
Peter flashed Tony a quick look, "you were introducing me to Mr. Happy. So." He smiled tightly and faced the security guard, "I am Peter Jones. It's nice to... meet... you. Sir."
Happy squinted more and looked Peter up and down. "Sir. That's an ok start... but I wanna know, why does Tony think I know you? You a mind-controller person or somethin'?!"
"No. No I am not."
"Prove it."
"If I could mind-control people then maybe I'd have a girlfriend?"
A heartbeat. "... ok I believe you."
"To answer your question, Mr. Stark is... confused. He thinks he knew from a few years ago, but we just met recently, ha ha. He's crazy. It's the only logical explanation." Peter tried to avoid meeting Tony's eyes, which stared wide and offended right at him.
"I could believe that."
"HEY!" Tony's offence turned on Happy now.
"He drinks a lot." Peter added.
"You're right." Happy's eyes flickered to the used glass on the coffee table. "He really does."
"Ok that's enough. Let us past."
"Fine, but I'm warning you-" he pointed an accusatory finger at Peter "-you try anything, I will taze you until you're drooling all over the floor."
"Ew."
"You're right 'ew.' So don't test me."
"Ok, stop threatening the kid already." Tony placed a hand on Happy's shoulder and guided him out of the way.
"I'm just looking out for you-"
"I know that-"
"-cause that's my job: to make sure you're safe from threats-"
"He's not a threat-"
"He might be, you don't even know him-"
"He's a kid-"
"Kids can kill too."
That made Tony pause. He squinted at Happy, face pulled back into a look of confused disbelief. "What-?"
Happy face twitched. "Ok that was a little weird to say-"
"You think?-"
"-but it doesn't make it untrue."
"He's not gonna kill me-"
"Hey, who's the head of security here? You or me? If I see a potential threat-"
"He's not a threat."
"-then I am going to protect you. You got that? You already died once, I'm not gonna let that happen again!"
"Is that what this is about? Happ, he's not dangerous. You gotta calm down-"
"I wiLl nOT-"
"Mr. Happy, sir?" Both men paused and turned to Peter, who had just been watching them, eyes danced between them, watching them argue. "I'm not gonna hurt Mr. Stark. I know you don't know me, but I don't hurt people. Mr. Stark is just... interviewing me. For an internship position."
Happy blinked. He turned back to Tony. "You're hiring an intern? For Stark Industries? Can you do that without Pepper's approval? Did you run this by her? Also why are you interviewing him here? Why not the Tower? Wh-"
Tony held up a hand to stop the rapid succession of questions. "Yes I am. Yes, as my personal assistant. Yes I can. No I didn't and I don't have to. We're doing it here because this is a call-back and I wanted to invite him over for dinner." Clasping his hands together, Tony fixed the security guard. "So do we have your blessing to go now?"
Happy's eyes moved back to Peter. He squinted suspiciously. Peter smiled cheaply. With an indignant sigh, Happy stepped out of the way. "Fine. But if you try-"
"Stop it, you already said that line. He got the point." Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "You sticking around to join us for supper?"
Happy shook his head. "I've got a bingo game with Stacy tonight."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Who's Stacy?"
"Bingo..." Peter whispered to himself.
"She's my mom's friend. Came up from New Jersey-"
"Ew. New Jersey." Peter wrinkled his nose. Happy glared at him. Tony raised an eyebrow in amusement.
"Anyway," Happy huffed, "I told her I'd keep her company. And yes that includes bingo nights."
Tony nodded slowly, "ok then. Have fun with that. Don't get too wild."
"I came to see if you wanted to join me."
"You thought I'd want to play bingo with a bunch of old ladies?"
Happy's brow furrowed. "Hey, I was being nice, cause that's what friends do, they invite each other to things."
A heartbeat, "is this about the art gallery?"
Another heartbeat. "It was Liu Wei. You know I love his work and you went without me!"
"I did not know you had a man-crush on him and, secondly, I told you, it was a date with Pepper. You think that would've been romantic? Inviting a third wheel on our date?"
Happy looked away, grumbled something, but ultimately sagged in defeat. "So are you coming to bingo or not?"
"I think I'll pass."
"It's not so bad, you know."
"Whatever you say. Bye Happ, we're gonna go now."
"Bye, Mr. Happy."
"Yeah, yeah," Happ grumbled, "whatever, I'll see you later Tony."
With that, Happy followed them down the hall, but deviated to the front door. Making sure to shoot Peter with yet another suspicious squint, he left.
Peter awkwardly cleared his throat. "He's kinda..."
"Crazy?" Tony finished, "yeah, yeah I know. He's an odd-ball that one."
"He thought May and he were dating, but according to May, it was just a fling. It was actually pretty sad for him, he was so..." Peter gestured feebly, "- you know? I mean no offence to him, but May could've done a lot better, so... yeah. Still, for, like, a hot second there, I thought he might've been my future step-uncle, so I can't help but feel a little bad for the guy."
Tony opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out for several seconds. "He's always been this way. If that helps."
The kid shrugged, "I feel kinda bad about it, but I kinda like seeing him like this. I mean he slept with my aunt. Sure, they were both consenting adults, but still... He slept with my aunt."
Tony exhaled in amusement and slung an arm around Peter, pulling him with him as they made their way to the stairs. "You wouldn't be human if you didn't."
Reaching the base of the stairs, they made their way into a large room, about 70 feet in length and 30 in depth. The lab was partially underground and had its entire far wall made of up windows, starting halfway up the wall. White flooring was lined with work benches, sleek white and modern in style. Halfway into the depth of the room, close to the door, there was a big glass desk that formed a ¾ circle around a couple of chaira in the middle. Tony made his way to the desk. Meanwhile Peter was drawn to a giant painting of an octopus on the far wall, beside the windows and a 3D printer.
"Alright, now to the important stuff." Tony plopped into his desk chair, rolling over to his coffee machine. "What was that about upstairs?"
Peter side-eyed him. "Don't worry about it."
"I will worry about it. I wanna know right now why Happy didn't recognize-"
"Your company is under litigation-"
"I am aware. How do you know tha-"
"-because of me."
"I know you were indirectly involved, but it's hardly your fault-"
"Mysterio got a hold of EDITH."
"WHAT?!" Tony cried, expression demanding further explanation.
"I may have... given... the glasses to... him..."
Tony's jaw dropped. "WHAT THE?! PETER WHAT WERE YOU THINKING-?!"
"DON'T YELL AT ME! BELIEVE IT OR NOT I LEARNED MY LESSON! I'M AN IDIOT, OK?! I AM FUCKING AWARE! SO I DON'T NEED YOU BERATING ME. I. AM. SORRY. I am so fucking sorry, but-" he threw his arms wide, a crazed look in his eyes "-here we are! Bet you're happy that you met me now, huh?!"
"..."
"Don't LoOk at me like that! I'M SORRY! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, ok?! I'm so fucking sorry, but I cannot fix this. I tried and it sorta worked, but only after I got hit by a couple trains-"
"WHAT?!"
"-and-"
"No, hey, hold up, let's circle back around to that train again. How could you have survived-"
"BECAUSE I GOT BIT BY A FUCKING RADIOACTIVE SPIDER, ANTHONY! Yeah that's right. THAT is what happened to me. Got bit by a spider. People get bit by spiders everyday and are fine, but when I get bit, I get to take a train to the face and not get put out of my misery? Like? WHAT THE FUCK?! It's so fucking weird, right?! Like what kinda origin story bullshit it that?! Who thinks this shit up? I just don't understand what's hapPENING! I mean COME ON! Half the stuff I do isn't even spider related. Like being acrobatic? What kinda spider do you know of can seamlessly do a triple backflip?! So what the fuck? Not that I'm complaining, I mean at least if I fail at everything else, I could always be an acrobat. Like in the circus. That's it! I'll join the fucking circus how great. Maybe that's what I'm supposed to do. Here I thought I'd use these powers to be a hero, but apparently I can't fucking do that! Turn on the tv and whaddya know it, everyone hates me and everything that goes wrong is my fault! So maybe- maybe I was given these powers so I could join the fucking circus like the high school dropout that I had no choice but to be! How fucking awesome! That is my purpose in life. To entertain people by swinging around in tights. Which pretty much is what I've been doing already, so what the hell!" Pete threw his arms wide, eyes twitching and a sharp grin splitting his face. "Imma join the circus! Who knows, maybe I'll even get to meet an elephant before I fucking die."
Crickets.
So many crickets.
Like, literally, there were crickets chirping outside the window.
"... huh," Tony finally broke the silence, staring at Peter with raised eyebrows. "So this is what your unstable side looks like... ok..."
"I'm not unstable." Peter grumbled.
"Debatable, but whatever floats your boat, kid."
Peter blinked then deflated, sinking into the wall and looking small. "Sorry for... freaking out."
Peter swore sometimes if felt like he only had one hand on the wheel. It was like a daily battle to keep control of his mind. There would be these moments, like this, where something stressful would happen and he'd just lose it. He'd snap, control slipping through his fingers like water.
Peter was dimly reminded of those old games people used to play: like trying to catch a greased up pig. He wondered if that's what it was like. The futility of trying to hold on as it wriggled in your grip. And you'd just be forced to watch, knowing you'd lose your grip any moment, but still, you'd try to hold on, as pointless as it all was.
Only difference was, this wasn't a game. And he couldn't help but wonder if one day, he'd lose it for good.
Tony clapped his hands together. "Anywho, moving on: what was with that whole thing upstairs with Happ? Huh? You still haven't answered me."
"Ok listen up." Peter ran his hands down his face. There was really no sugar-coating it, was there? "Happy doesn't know me. Not anymore, anyway. No one does, actually. So long story short, I messed up a magic spell and the only way to keep our universe from imploding was for everyone in the world to forget Peter Parker - ie me. So now I pretty much don't exist. Like in people's memories and records and stuff. Which is pretty inconvenient if I'm honest cause I no longer have any school records. But whatever, none of that matters, the point is, you are currently the second person alive in this universe who actually knows who I am. And I'm still trynna wrap my head around that. On one hand, it's nice to know I still exist to someone, but on the other hand... I don't know, it's just really unexpected, you know?"
"..."
"Mr. Stark?"
"You- sp- OH MY GOD! I was gone for a FEW MONTHS! And this happens?! Wha- H- HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?! I thought Happy keeping an eye on you would be enough, but... my god I should have hired a babysitter." The man sank into his chair, hand cupping his mouth and eyes wide like he just had an epiphany - an epiphany that Peter was a literal magnet for disaster.
"Did you not even listen to me?A babysitter wouldn't remember me!"
Tony held up his hands in surrender. "Fair enough. I was just wondering if there was anything I coulda done to prevent this-" he gestured to Peter whose eye twitched "-from happening."
"Well there wasn't. Because I. Mess. Everything. Up. All the fucking time."
"Kid, no you don-"
"All. The. Time."
"Well then it's good you have me. Cause I am great at cleaning up messes. Mostly the ones that I make, but still, I know Thor, so, I've got some extra practice." He shrugged.
"... what?"
"Hm? Oh, you see, Thor is just a giant baby, so he's made worse messes than me-"
"No. I already knew that. We studied him in physics. I was- Mr. Stark, there's nothing to fix. You... you can't help me."
"I'd argue that I can. Maybe not with your past problems, but I will stick by you now and forever."
A heartbeat
"... that's kinda cheesy..."
Tony fixed the kid with a flat stare, head tilted.
"Sorry. I just... I'm not used to you being so... you know, human."
Tony nodded, lips pursed in thought. "Thanks."
"Yeah, you're welcome."
Peter's attention once more found itself wandering about the lab. He couldn't help but admire it. It felt different than the rest of the house. He may not have been used to nice things, but high-end tech had always been something he'd coveted. As good as he was at utilizing barely-functioning retro tech, dumpster-diving wasn't exactly the dream.
This place, on the other hand, had all the best stuff. Literally anything he could ever want science-wise was right in front of him. 3D Printer. Robotics station. Chemicals cabinet which probably had everything for his web fluid. Holograms. Multiple of the world's most advanced computer. And a whiteboard.
Ok, a whiteboard maybe wasn't the most spectacular thing in the world, but owning one was pretty awesome. It even rolled. It was cool.
"Alright-" Tony clapped his hand together startling Peter out of his thoughts "-we better get started."
Peter cocked his head to the side, "huh?"
"Re-installing your identity?" Tony pulled up his chair.
"Say what now?"
Tony looked at him with that look - that look he always gave people when he knew he was gonna do something smart and no one knew it. Kinda smug, but also kinda expectant - like he was waiting for Peter to catch up. Peter blinked.
Tony turned to his computer, waving his hand and making the screen boot up. "I'm gonna hack into whatever systems we need to and manually input your information."
Peter blinked again. "...ok..."
"So, what all is missing? Do you know? What was erased, you still got a SIN number, or?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah I do, yeah. I-"
The man's eyebrows knit together, "so only some of your records were erased, but not others? How does that work?"
"Ok so, I've been trying to figure this one out for a while." Peter clasped his hands together, staring at nothing in particular, thinking. "I think anything that was linked to someone's memory of me was erased. So stuff like my school record: I have t- had teachers and friends who remembered me, so poof-" he gestured with his hands "-it gets erased. But stuff like my birth certificate wasn't specifically remembered by anyone - thank god - so I still have that. I don't know, it's confusing."
Tony blew a raspberry. "Yeah, I'd say."
Peter shrugged. "On the bright side, I had no family left to remember my photo album, so I still have all my pictures of mom, dad, Ben, and May and I."
A heartbeat. "Jesus, kid..."
"Yeah, I'm a little pitiful aren't I, ha ha... Yyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeaaaaahh..."
Peter relaxed as Tony's eyes finally left him, instead focusing on the blue screen in front of him. He scrolled through some stuff, then leaned back, arms crossed. A frown found his face. "Ok I'm confused, how old are you?"
"Uh, well, technically 17, but I did some, uh, hacking and made myself 18 so I'd be my own guardian."
"... well that's tragic."
"Thanks."
"In my defence, I meant to say that in my head." Tony nodded his head a little in thought. "Impressive - you hacking into a system like this. I underestimate you sometimes."
"... thank you?"
"Ok, here's how this is gonna go, I'm gonna need your whole history as best as you can remember it - but we're gonna make you 17 again and just say you were granted full emancipation, good?"
Peter nodded.
"While I'm at it, I might as well get you accepted into a college since I can't imagine you were able to do that?"
"No. I, uh, wasn't. Even before I was forgotten."
"Well that's odd, don't you have perfect grades- oh right. The whole murder accusations, right, right."
"You heard about that, huh?"
"I did."
"I didn't mur-"
"I know, kid, I never thought you did."
"... ok."
"Ok let's start with the basics first. Name. Peter Benjamin Parker. Born August 10, 2001 in Foresthill, New York, grew up in Queens."
"You know all that?"
Stark spun to look at Peter and sipped his coffee. "Of course. I know all the details about the people I care for."
Peter squirmed with discomfort. He didn't deserve Tony's care.
"Now let's get started: what'dya wanna do first?"
Peter's eyes scanned the yard just outside the window. It was an unusually warm February and things had already started melting a ton. Damp grass held little scattered piles of sticky snow. A slight fog hung in the evening air and faint chirping could be heard from the white oaks. Warm yellow rays streaked across his face, highlighting the heavy bags weighing under his weary eyes. Past the exhaustion, life still gleaned through. Small red flecks shone in the light, standing out against the chocolate brown irises.
"Could we put me as May's, uh, former dependant. I was erased from her file since people knew her and would've known me as her nephew, you know?"
Nodding, Tony swiped at his screen. May's file popped up. Double checking it was the right one, he nodded. "You heard the kid, FRI."
Peter awkwardly cleared his throat. "Uh, also probably for Ben's file too."
"Ben? Who's Ben?"
"... my uncle."
"May was married?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "but he... uh, he died when I was just about fifteen."
Hesitating for only a brief moment, Tony nodded. "FRI, make sure their files are linked."
"On it." She chimed. "All done."
"Thanks," Peter nodded at the ceiling, unsure of where to actually look.
"Fifteen..." Tony breathed the word, catching Peter's attention. The man was clearly lost in thought - and not a happy one at that. "You had just turned fifteen a few weeks before I met you..."
"Oh, uh, y-yeah, yeah." He squirmed uncomfortably, hugging his arms around his torso. "He died right before my birthda- uh, I mean... nevermind."
A moment of silence passed.
Peter had done it again, he'd made things super awkward and uncomfortable for everyone else.
God, he was tragic.
"Well that sucks." Like a switch being flipped, Tony went back to normal, like nothing had happened. He swiveled over to a box sitting on the far side of his desk and fished out a donut. Tossing the box to the centre of the desk, Tony returned to his screen. "Come on over here-" he patted the chair beside him. I don't like you leering in the distance like that. Makes me feel like you're planning my murder."
"Sorry." Peter blinked in surprise. Normally people stayed awkward after he mentioned his dead relatives. Tony's return to 'normal' was weird. But Peter was grateful for it nonetheless. He hated the pitiful silence that most people fell into. Shrugging, Peter plopped himself in a wheely chair and joined Mr. Stark at the screen.
"Want a donut?"
"Uh, no thanks."
"Want something else?"
"No thanks. I'm not hungry."
Tony side eyed Peter, doubt clear in his face. "Uh huh, ok. Ok so, you started at Midtown High in 2016?"
"Yeah."
"Got straight A's, I'm guessing."
"Almost. I never did that great in, uh, gym class."
Tony smirked. "And where'd you go for elementary?"
"Queen's Elementary."
"And you started there in kindergarten in 2005?"
"Yep."
"Daycare?"
"No."
"Ok so that's that. Any medical records I should know of?"
"Probably not." He shrugged. "Broke my right wrist when I was thirteen and went to the Queens Hospital for a cast. My wrist has been a little funny ever since."
"I'll make a note of it." It couldn't hurt to have any of this stuff on record.
"Anything else?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Glad to hear it."
"Yeah, same. That hospital bill was a nightmare. I felt so bad that May and Ben had to pay for it. Anyway-" Peter shook his head, "-what's next?"
Tony was staring at the kid, blinking. God, he was an idiot. Being so rich, he'd always forgotten how much the kid and his aunt struggled with money.
Seeing Tony staring at him, Peter's face fell. "What? Did I do something? I'm so sorry! I can leave if you wa-"
"What? No!" Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "We have got to do something about that record-breaking self-destructive spiral you got goin' on there, bud."
"Bud? That's a new one. Does this mean you'll finally stop calling me kid?"
"No. Now eat a donut, you're too skinny."
"I am not. I've just always been thin."
"Not this thin. Now eat."
"Sir-"
"Kid."
"... fine."
The corners of Tony's mouth tugged upwards as he fought the self-pride sprouting in his chest. His first successful parenting task!
"What's your blood type?"
"Idunno," the kid shrugged, "red?"
Tony blinked, and paused his chewing. "Red," He breathed. Shaking his head, he reached out, "alright, give me your hand."
"Why?!" Peter jerked his hand away from Tony's grasp. "What're you gonna do?!"
"I'm gonna prick your finger with this-" he held up what looked similar to a blood-glucose monitor "-and get FRIDAY to run your blood type."
"You're gonna poke me?!"
"You can't honestly tell me you're scared of needles."
The kid blinked. "No. I'm not, have you not seen me- anyway, I just- I'm not sure having my DNA in a system is a good idea, you know?"
"Why's that?"
"Because... well, because I'm... different, you know? It just seems like an unnecessary risk, you know?"
Tony rolled his eyes, "I won't keep your DNA sequences in the system, kay? I just wanna analyze your blood type."
"I don't know Mr. Stark, can't I just... not put my blood type in the system?"
"We need it for emergencies"
Biting his lip, Peter gingerly held out his hand. Giving the kid a small nod, Tony pressed the device against his index finger. Before he could press the button, Peter jerked his hand back.
"Sorry! Sorry! I just feel like it's a bad idea, you know?"
Tony slumped back in his seat, giving the kid a flat, but mildly amused look. "Fine. We won't do it."
"We won't?"
"Nope. Oh hey look, a bluejay."
"Bluejay?!" Peter spun to face the window, eyes wide with curiosity. Seizing the opportunity, Tony snatched one of the kid's fingers and pressed the device up to it, quickly pressing the button.
"AH!" Peter jolted and pulled his hand away, giving Stark an incredulous look.
Tony held his hands up. "All done."
"Peter Parker's blood type is B-"
Wide brown eyes darted towards the screen, seeing the letter pop up. "That's it?"
"That's it," Stark confirmed.
"... I guess that wasn't so bad. You better not keep my DNA in there, though." Peter frowned.
"I promise, FRI only analyzed your blood type. And now your DNA's gone, right FRI?"
"It's already been incinerated." The AI confirmed.
Peter rolled his eyes, but nodded in acceptance, "alright."
"Now let's get your employment history. Had any jobs?"
"Uh... yeah... I got fired from all of them. Every one."
Tony snorted into his mug, sending a splash of coffee onto the desk. Setting down his cup, he continued snickering.
"It's not funny! I'm broke and I can't keep a job!"
"First of all, it's hilarious. Secondly, you're gonna be staying with me from now on, so no, you're not broke."
"Wha- since when? I don't remember agreeing to that."
"Well I'm not letting you stay in that shit you call an apartment, so you're staying with me."
"Mr. Stark. It's not a good idea to be around me that mu-"
"Don't finish that sentence." Tony turned point blank on the kid. "I don't wanna hear another word about any of that bullshit again."
Peter blinked, "... but it's not-"
"Yes it is. It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard and we live in a world where there's talking, genius raccoons and a giant purple alien with a rock fetish."
"Uh...?"
"Look," Tony took a deep breath, softening up, "I know you believe that crap right now, but that's your mind lying to you. It's hard - I know it's hard, but you have to fight it. You can't let that shit get into your head."
"...But what if those thoughts are right? And I ignore them and... you die because of it. I've lost everything, Mr. Stark. How am I supposed to believe I won't get you killed too? Again."
"Because I'm stubborn as hell. I've literally defeated death. Who else do you know can do that, huh? That and, I'm way too hot to die."
Peter let out a small laugh, rubbing the mist from his eyes. "How can I argue with that logic?"
A small smile crept across Tony's lips at the sight of the kid's smile - as brief as it was. He was going to be just fine. Time was all he needed. Time and support. Fuck if Tony knew anything about the latter, but he, be damned, would figure it out.
"You can't, so don't even try." He nudged Peter's elbow, motioning at the untouched donut clasped in the kid's hand. "You gonna eat that or do I need to get you a warm glass of milk to go with it?"
Peter rolled his eyes and begrudgingly took a bite, sending sprinkles raining down his shirt. "Anyway," he said through a muffled mouthful, "In 2015, I was a coffee barista from... uh, when was it? May 1st to the end of July."
"How'd you get fired from that one?"
"I, uh, put cocoa powder in the espresso machine and it almost exploded..."
Tony bit his lip to keep from laughing.
"I can see you trying not to laugh, you know."
"Come on, you have to admit it's funny."
Peter rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. Maybe it was a little funny. "Also, I got a job delivering pizzas for Andy's Pizza in mid-December this year. I, uh, actually got fired from it, uh, yesterday.
"Andy's Pizza..."
"If you're trying to remember if that's the grossest pizza place in New York, then yes, yes it is."
Tony raised an eyebrow, but ultimately nodded, "duly noted. Any more jobs?"
Peter thought for a second. "I don't know if this even counts, but I worked at the Coffee Bean Co. for, like, two hours in December."
"Two hours." Tony just shook his head, an amused smile returning to his lips. "You sure are bad at keeping a job, aren't you?"
"I'm truly a terrible employee." He shrugged. "What can I say, I'm an idiot."
"Pretty sure you're legally a genius." Tony nodded at the screen. "Anything else?" Peter shook his head. "Input him as my personal intern starting in May 2016. Also he got blipped - don't forget that."
"Got it, Boss."
"Still your intern huh?" Peter crossed his arms, mindlessly swivelling in his chair. "How many years now is that of unpaid work?"
Tony scoffed. "Yeah, well you never seem to show up."
"To be fair, I never got a schedule, so..." he shrugged.
"Excuses, excuses," Tony sipped his coffee, a small smile on his lips. "You actually want a wage? How much? 3 per hour?"
"3 bucks an hour? Well that's pretty sad."
"3000, kid. Thousand."
"THREE THOUSAND?!" Peter's eyes shot wide open. "Oh my god that's so much money. That's... that's 6,240,000.00 a year!"
"Yeah? And?"
"What do you mean 'and'?!"
"Is that... a lot?"
"Is that-'' Peter stared, mouth hanging wide open, bewilderment splayed across his face. "Billionaires..." he muttered. "Yes, yes 6 million is a lot. Like a lot, a lot."
"Whatever you say. So you want me to do up an employee contract for you?"
"NO! Mr. Stark thank you, but no. I was joking. I don't want your money. Especially, like, 3000 of it per hour."
Tony just rolled his eyes and faced his screen once more. "Whatever you say. Alright so that's your occupational history. Now let's get back to your college. Where do you wanna go?"
Peter bit the inside of his cheek. MIT was his dream school. The place he'd wanted to go since he was a little kid. The place his mom studied at and now his g... his... MJ and Ned. Maybe he could too... but that could put them in danger. Plus who was he kidding, he'd never be able to afford that place. It was too late to get any scholarships since he technically didn't exist when he was supposed to apply for them. And he'd never be able to pay off a loan for the place.
Where else could he go? Where else could he afford? Maybe Empire State? Still expensive as heck, but manageable.
Then again, how was he even supposed to get through college in... in the state that he was in. He could barely keep anything straight nowadays, how was he supposed to juggled a bunch of academic classes?
It wasn't possible, was it?
He should just give-up.
It was all pointless anyway.
"Kid? You-who, earth to Peter."
"Huh?" Peter blinked. "Oh right, uh... I don't know, uh... uhm... uh...u-"
"How 'bout MIT? I got some pull there. Could get you a private dorm."
"... uh... I probably shouldn't-"
"You don't want to go to MIT? Thought you'd be interested in a great school like that."
"Well, I mean, I am, but, uh, well, uh... it's... it's expensive. I should probably go somewhere cheaper - if anywhere at all. Maybe I just shouldn't go at all? I do have, uh, debts I still need to pay off-"
"Kid. What's your IQ?"
"Idunno, prolly like... 10."
"10." Tony raised his eyebrows. "You expect me to believe you have an IQ score of 10. Really?"
"Ok fine, so maybe it's more like 130 or something. Maybe 140 at most. I'm no genius, Mr. Stark. I probably couldn't get into MIT even if none of... this-" he waved his hands in the air "-had happened."
"... you're definitely higher than 140."
"What makes you say that? Have we not yet established that I'm stupid?" He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Maybe you have forgotten me," he muttered.
"What you think is stupidity is actually impulsivity and - I'd wager - a decent amount of undiagnosed mental illness-"
Peter stayed quiet. It wasn't undiagnosed.
"-BUT. You are good at analyzing situations and finding solutions to problems - oftentimes involving science and crap. Like your webbing. Textile strength is off the charts. Still impresses me after all this time."
"... ok but I'm not a genius."
"Uh huh, whatever you say. How did you come up with that stuff, by the way?"
Peter shrugged, again, "Well, when I got my powers, I realized my circulatory system is different than normal people's-"
"Excuse me, what?"
"Yeah, I still have, like a heart, but it- it's hard to explain, but, like, when I'm swinging, my blood still pumps perfectly fine, whereas yours would, like, be forced to your feet- ok think, like, when you're on a roller coaster. You couldn't go on, like, multiple loops because it'd kill you because the centrifugal-force would force your blood away from your head. Also some of your organs would probably rupture. Anyway, it's the same with web-swinging, but, like that doesn't happen to me. My circulatory system compensates somehow for that, so- anyway. I always liked swings and spiders have webs, so I just kinda... made it, I don't know."
"Huh." Tony leaned back, face twisted in deep thought. "Well isn't that something."
"Yeah, I guess."
"At least you didn't say they come out of your ass."
"WHA- OK! No. How many people- Ugh, I don't have webs coming out of my butt, ok?! I'm so tired of people asking me that, like- my webbing isn't organic, I manufacture it- Ugh, whatever. I just- I don't shit webs, I would like people to know that."
Tony smirked, "want me to call a press conference for you?"
The kid stuck out his tongue at him, arms crossed. Tony chuckled.
"The one good thing about all this is that I have a chance to rebrand my 'Peter tingle."
"Excuse me, what?" Tony shot Peter with a quizzical and surprised look.
"... nothing."
"..."
"So I have this sixth sense, essentially - it's kinda confusing - anyway, Happy and May started calling it... my, uh, 'Peter Tingle.' And I hated it, so I'd rather not call it that anymore."
"..."
"..."
"... gotta agree with you there, bud."
"Yea... I was thinking of changing it to spide-"
"Tony," Clacking of heels approached alongside the sound of a woman's voice. "There you are! I told you not to stay out all night. Morgan's been helping me make cheeseburgers upstai- who's that?" Pepper's blue eyes landed on Peter, who gave a cheap smile and a small wave.
"Uh, hi there, I'm- I'm Peter."
"Well hello there Peter."
"He's the kid." Tony pointed at Peter.
She directed a warm smile at Peter. "It's lovely to finally meet you, Spider-Boy, Tony talked about you all the time."
"He did?"
"Oh yes. He missed you dearly during the blip. Listened to all your messages. I think it's wonderful that you're helping elders find their way around."
A pause. "You mean the old lady who bought me the churro?"
"Mhmm."
"You replayed that message?" Peter questioned Tony.
"He replayed all of your messages."
"That's so embarrassing..." the kid muttered to himself.
"I think it's sweet. You sound like a wonderful hero," Pepper smiled.
"Ok, well if you're done exposing me," Tony let out an old-man groan as he got out of his chair. "It's time we get some real food, not that I don't love donuts for dinner."
"You missed me," Peter confirmed, more to himself than Tony.
"Can you blame me? You're the only Avenger I can stand." With that, Tony nudged the kid's shoulder, motioning for him to follow the couple upstairs.
Peter bit his lip in confliction. On one hand, Tony Stark had called him an Avenger again, which couldn't help but spark a little joy. But on the other hand... Peter wasn't a hero. Not anymore at least. He just... he always messed everything up. He wasn't worthy of being named a hero.
"So, Peter, you want cheese on your burger?"
"Huh? Oh sure, yeah that sounds good." He wasn't even hungry.
"Let's get going, I want you to meet Morgan."
"Oh right, your daughter. Jeez, sometimes I forget you have a whole family now. The blip is still so confusing."
"You'll love her, she's just as impulsive and stubborn as you." Tony threw an arm around Peter's shoulder, leading him to the stairs.
Sure enough, just like BeetleJuice, as soon as they reached the top of the stairs they were met by none other than the infamous Morgan.
"Daddy!" The 5 years old came skipping over. Brown waves were tucked in a loose ponytail that swished. Her hazel eyes beamed up at her dad.
"Hey, squirt, Mom told me you're making cheeseburgers?"
"All by myself. I'm gonna be a chef!" She threw her arms out, waving around a greasy spatula.
"A chef, wow, what happened to the astronaut dream?"
"Harder to poison people that way."
"That's my girl." Tony beamed, scooping his daughter up into his arms.
"Morgan," Pepper exasperated.
"Sorry mommy, but you always have to be prepared."
"Not to murder people."
"I never said the poison would be lethal."
"She's got a point, hunny," Tony concurred.
Pepper rolled her eyes, "come on, let's eat."
"Who're you?" Morgan pointed at Peter as they made their way into the dinning room.
"Oh, uh, hi, I'm, uh, I'm Peter."
"Are you the Spider-Boy Daddy always talked about? He cried about you a lot."
"Oh-?!"
"Oh-ho-ho you little rascal," Tony playfully covered her mouth, earning a flurry of giggles.
"He doesn't like people knowing he has feelings. But we all know he's a big softie." Pepper chimed in.
Peter awkwardly followed them to their destination, still trying to wrap his head around what he'd just heard, while also trying to ignore the intense microscope of Morgan's gaze. The long mahogany dining table was lined with plates of burgers, toppings, fries, and condiments, as well as an ice-cold pitcher of lemonade.
Everyone chose a seat, leaving Peter to awkwardly take the seat beside Morgan. At least he was across from Tony, so he was facing someone he sorta knew. Everyone started dishing up. Peter just kinda sat there, trying to act normal, which he was characteristically bad at.
"Here." Tony waved a plate of buns in front of Peter's face. "You can have toasted or not." Peter just grabbed the first bun he saw. God he felt like he was so incredibly out of place, he kinda wanted to throw up. But that would just make things so much worse.
So. Much. Worse.
And he already felt like he was crawling out of his skin.
His eyes tentatively scanned the room.
It was gorgeous. A cabin-style mansion with hints of modernism. Pete did not belong at all. He couldn't be anymore out of place. He was so uncomfortable.
"Here. Hope you like all the toppings." His plate plopped down in front of him, holding a fully built burger. Peter hadn't even noticed Tony take it in the first place.
"Hm? Oh y-yeah it's good, thanks."
Tony nodded then started on his own meal, catching up to his family. Picking up his fork, Peter poked at his fries.
He really wasn't hungry.
But he didn't want to be rude.
They ate in silence for what felt like a billion years. Nothing but the sound of chewing and the occasional scrape of forks on plates.
It was all a lie.
He wasn't one of them. He didn't belong. He was a stranger. He knew it. They knew it. It was just that no one wanted to mention it.
But it was true.
He didn't belong.
He was probably making them uncomfortable.
This was their family. Pepper had gotten her husband back, and Morgan, her dad. They should be together, just the three of them. But here Peter was getting in their way.
And all because Tony felt bad for him 'cause he couldn't keep it together.
The heroin had started to wear off. It wasn't unbearable yet, but he could feel the twist in his gut, slowly coiling tighter and tighter like barbed wire.
He wanted to shoot up, but...
But he didn't want to do that while in their home. While in their company. He didn't want to bring that into their home, into their family.
He didn't want to bring that sickness to them.
So he pretended.
He picked up his burger and took a bite.
He felt like throwing up.
Not because of the taste - it tasted fine. It was fine. What was wrong was... everything else.
He was sitting at goddamn family dinner like he was supposed to be there. Like nothing was wrong.
Which it wasn't. Nothing was wrong, he'd already established that.
But the dull taste of dinner, the feeling of the food in his mouth, the sound of quiet chewing around the table, it all grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
He never asked for this. He didn't want this.
This was wrong.
"Pete?" The sound of Tony's voice was distant, like someone tapping at a window pain trying to get the attention of whoever was inside. Some part of Peter heard him and tried to respond, but he was paralyzed, frozen in place. His mind was offline. A throat cleared itself, once more calling for his attention. But Peter didn't want to acknowledge it. He wanted to go away. He wanted to be somewhere else - anywhere else. Even being six feet in the ground felt more appealing. At least that would make sense.
He didn't want to be here.
"Hey!" The shout jolted Peter out of his daze. His eyes snapped towards the origin: Tony's daughter. She rolled her eyes at him. "Dad was talking to you."
Peter went to respond and realized his mouth was full of food. He'd just been sitting there, food in mouth, for whatever amount of time warranted Tony's need for intervention. He swallowed and set his burger down. "Uh sorry, I was... I was... uh..."
Tony's gaze was firm, like he was seeing straight into Peter's brain. After what felt like centuries, he nodded. "How's the food?"
"Oh, uh, yeah, it's, uh, it's good, yeah, it's... it's good."
"So, Peter," Pepper piped up. Oh god. It was time for questions. "Are you graduating this year?"
Peter took a sip of lemonade, giving himself precious time to gather his scattered psyche. "Uh, y-yeah, yeah from, uh, from Midtown High."
"Congratulations, you should be very proud," she said with a smile. "What're you going to do after? Have you applied to any universities?"
Peter's mouth suddenly felt very dry. Yes. But also no. "Uh, I was thinking of, uh, applying to Empire State, but I'm not sure..."
"Empire State, that's a lovely university. I've heard they have some great science programs there? What do you think you'll take?"
Oh god Peter really wanted to throw up. He had no idea what the hell he was doing. He probably wasn't gonna go to university for so many different reasons, but he didn't wanna say that and come across a loser - which he was, but this was such a nice family with a perfect home, he just wanted to fit in at least a little. He didn't want to admit he couldn't even get into university. And even if he did, that would probably lead to a confession of his current... troubles. Speaking of which, he seriously wanted to do some heroin right now. He didn't need it yet, but goddam, he wanted it so fucking badly.
Peter swallowed, "uh... I think they have a chemical engineering program. That would be, uh, that would be cool."
Pepper's eyebrows raised in interest, "chemical engineering? Sounds like an advanced program. You must be smart."
"Uh... I'm not so sure about that... I've made some pretty dumb mistakes lately."
"Oh well, everyone does when they're your age. You should've seen Tony."
"I've heard stories."
"Ok, ok, that's enough," Tony interjected, stopping the train before it even started. "Let's not even start, arlight? Morgan, how was school?"
"Boring. We went over subtraction. I already knew every answer, so I used most of the day to work on my plan."
Tony raised an eyebrow and looked at Pepper who shrugged and shook her head. "Plan? What plan? What're you talking about?"
"Santa." She smiled creepily, "I'm gonna capture Santa and steal his presents. I failed this time, but next year, victory will be mine!"
Silence.
"Huh." Tony eventually said, earning an elbow from Pepper. "I mean: that's bad. Don't do that. You'll end up on the naughty list."
"Doesn't matter, I'll have all the presents I ever wanted."
"That's assuming Santa will even show up in the first place."
That got Morgan's attention, her face fell. "What're you talking about? Santa brings coal."
"Do you know of anyone who has gotten coal?"
She paused, thinking. "No..."
"That's because he doesn't give coal, he just doesn't show up." Tony shrugged and finished off his burger.
"It's a scam!"
"Morgan, hunny, no yelling." Pepper chimed in. "How about we talk about something else, huh? You don't rob Santa and everything will be fine, kay?"
Morgan's face soured, but she nodded. Pepper sighed and was about to say something before Morgan took control of the next subject's direction. She looked at Peter, eyes exacting. "What did you get for Christmas?"
Peter choked on his lemonade. "Uh... I uh..."
"Did you not like the gift your parents got you?"
"Uh..."
"What's wrong with you?"
"Morgan!" Pepper started, giving her daughter a look.
"Sorry. I just wanna know why this stranger can't answer a simple question. Why won't you tell me what your parents got you for Christmas? Was it a GUN?!"
"Wha-?! No! I just- uh..."
"I knew it!" She shot to her feet, standing up on her chair.
"Morgan, hunny, stop interrogating Peter." Tony mumbled through a mouthful of fries.
"Why is it such a hard question to answer! Is no one else concerned about this?! He could be a cRiMInaL!"
"I didn't get anything for Christmas." Peter answered, eager to put a stop to whatever this was.
"Why?" The accusation hadn't disappeared from Morgan's tone.
"Morgan." Tony finally looked up from his plate, his tone becoming more serious.
"I just want to know why?!"
"Because I... uh... I-"
"Are your parents mad at you?"
"Oh god." Peter dropped his fork, the sudden urge to escape spiked through his blood like electricity.
"Morgan. You can't say things like that!" Pepper reprimanded.
"Wow, ok. Uh." Peter stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair, but catching it with his foot. "This has been great. Thank you, Mrs. Potts for the meal, it was delicious, but I... have... ... something to get to, so I'll just let myself out." Without waiting for a response, Peter grabbed his plate and headed to the kitchen.
"Really, Morgan?" Tony shot her daughter with a stern, disappointed look and headed after the departing Peter.
"Hey, Pete, hold up!"
"Ok, I'm sorry." Dropping his plate into the sink, Peter turned to face the man who'd just jogged into the room. "I didn't mean to be rude by up and leaving like that, but I just didn't want to... you know, make things all awkward and... stuff."
"Look, I didn't see that whole line of questioning coming. Came outta nowhere, actually. And I will be having a talk with that missy about that."
"Please don't do that." Peter threw his head back. "I've only known your family for, like, ten minutes and I'm already causing rifts."
Tony rolled his eyes. "You're kidding, right? This really has nothing to do with you. Morgan needs to learn some manners. Should've seen her when we visited a 'mall' Santa."
Peter frowned then rolled his eyes. "She's just being cautious. That's not a bad thing. I mean she's got a point, that was a pretty simple question. Kinda weird that I can't answer it - well I mean, I could, but that'd make things so much worse."
Tony started to say something, but Peter didn't hear. The memories of... his family crashed into his mind, so vivid, they may well have been happening all over again. His ears rang, brain cloudy as shadows of panic passed through his mind and body.
Oh god.
Words could not describe how much he wanted to shoot up. They couldn't capture the blood curdling need for relief. Or the nausea that shredded his gut, twisting, gnawing and scratching at his stomach lining. They could never recreate the rattling of his bones as they caved in on themselves, cracking and splintering. Or the racing of his mind as it pulses with empty blood, starving. The blood barrier collapsing as it absorbed anything it could, scrounging for scraps, but finding none.
Word could historically never describe torture.
"Peter, hey, you still with me?"
"I need to go to the bathroom." Peter said, mind on a turntable as it wheeled back into the real world.
Tony startled at Peter's quick return to life. Then he saw the look in his eyes. He knew. And Peter knew that he knew.
He inhaled slowly and nodded down the hall. "First door on your right." Peter nodded, refusing to meet his eyes, and hurried along, hands tight around his backpack straps. "Don't lock it." Peter froze, hand on the handle. His brain zeroed in painfully fast. He swallowed and looked back. Tony was staring at him dead-on.
Mouth dry, Peter could only manage a nod and dipped inside the bathroom. What the hell else was he supposed to do? Say something? There was nothing to say. They both knew what he was going to do.
Tony knew.
But that wasn't going to stop Peter.
He'd tried. He'd really tried to hold on until at least the end of dinner, but... he- he needed the fucking drugs, ok? End of fucking story.
He grit his teeth as the needle pierced his skin, sliding into the blue vein. Blood seeped into the vial and Peter pressed down.
. . .
A knuckle rapped at the door. Peter blinked, coming back down and saw in the mirror as the door cracked open a hair.
Their eyes locked. Tony stepped in, closing it behind him. Peter watched him see him. He watched Tony's eyes land on the bruise with a thin line of crimson snaking from it. He watched as he looked at Peter's face, checking for comprehension. He watched as he sighed quietly and grabbed a wad of tissue. He beckoned for Peter to give him his arm. Peter didn't move. He couldn't do anything but watch how Tony was reacting.
He was calm. But Peter still saw the worry and the... the weight in his eyes.
"I made you sad..." he muttered half to himself, half to the empty air.
Tony's eyes flickered to his. After a heartbeat he shook his head lightly. "Not you."
Peter finally let him have his arm. Tony pressed the tissue against his bruise. A spot of red soaked through, dimly making Peter think of a rose. "Who?"
Discarding the blood-stained tissue, Tony got another one. His grip was gentle, but Peter could feel the tension in it as well. His voice was quiet and grave when he spoke again. "The world."
The world.
It was Peter's fault.
He retracted his arm. The bleeding had pretty much stopped anyway. Picking up his bag, he nodded at Tony. "I should go."
"You're staying. You promised you'd give it a try."
Peter bit his cheek, silently cursing himself. Why the hell had he agreed to that?
But he had.
Looking in Tony's eyes, he knew he had to keep his word. There was a raw pleading in the man's eyes. Something deep embedded in fear. Something hidden behind the layers of attempted stoicism.
Dropping his eyes, Peter nodded silently.
Through his peripheral, he saw Tony's muscles relax a little. A hand squeezed his shoulder and gently pulled him out of the bathroom. Peter obliged, following Tony down the hall, and back into the kitchen.
From the table, Pepper perked up, "there you two are!"
She smiled warmly, but she couldn't hide the flicker in her eyes as she briefly looked to her husband, expression shifting ever so slightly. She knew. How could she not, of course Tony would have told her about him. It wasn't surprising, but it still sucked. He'd stupidly hoped that she wouldn't know. It was embarrassing and pathetic.
She must've seen his expression shift, because guilt flashes across her features. Now Peter felt bad for feeling bad because it made her feel bad.
This was all such a fucking mess.
And it was all his goddamn fault.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she dipped her gaze to the dishes on the table. "We've got apple pie for dessert. Homemade. And- and we've got ice cream for it. Or, uh, cheddar-" she quickly stood up and hurried to the kitchen, b-lining for the fridge "-I've never had it on pie before, but I've heard good things-" Tony was at her side.
He clasped her hand, rubbing little circles with his thumb. She visibly relaxed. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. Tony nodded back and planted a kiss on her cheek.
"You want cheese?" Tony asked.
Peter shook his head, "n-no- thank you."
"Plates are on the table. Might wanna grab a scoop of ice cream before Morgan takes it all."
Pepper chuckled, "I swear she's got an addic-" the word died on her tongue. She froze, face falling and she tensed up, fingers digging into Tony's arm.
Peter's guts lurched.
She stared at him.
He stared back, feeling his own face fall.
She swallowed and held out a hand, as if trying to calm Peter cause he probably looked terrified. He could feel it on his face. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't meant to-"
Peter didn't want to hear her say it. He didn't want to acknowledge that she knew. He wanted to be blissfully ignorant. And if she said it then that would ruin it. "It'S FiNe- it's fine. I- I'm- I'm... sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't-" his eyes darted to Tony's looking for his blessing to leave. Because goddamn he felt like he was curling in on himself. Like his entrails were imploding.
Tony's eyes didn't give. He held Peter's gaze, expression tense, but no less resolved.
"I'm sorry." Peter finished, voice drifting away. "I'm so sorry."
"No. No, I'm sorry-"
"It's fine, really, ha ha, it's fine. Everything is fine. This is all very normal and fine. It's all fine. This is fine. It's fine-"
With a start, Peter felt a wall at his back. He'd been backing away.
"Peter, I sincerely apologi-"
"Peps." Pepper quieted. Tony squeezed her hand and looked to Peter again. "Neither of you have anything to be sorry about. Nothing happened, right?" Peter and Pepper shared a look. They blinked then nodded. "Good. Come on, let's eat."
Tony led his wife over to the table and joined their daughter, who wasn't paying any mind to them, busy stuffing her face. Meanwhile, Peter struggled to peel himself off of the wall.
He hated this.
He hated this. He hated this. He hated this. He hated this. He hated this.
God he hated this so much.
Feeling as stiff as a tree, he forced himself into a chair. Tony had cut him a piece and put a helping of ice cream on it.
Peter blinked, watching the ice cream slowly melting. He couldn't lie, the pie looked good. He still didn't have an appetite, but something in him wanted that pie.
Gingerly picking up a fork, he scooped a small piece. It was ok. Food just didn't seem to taste the same as it used to. Objectively speaking, he knew it was good. But he just... he couldn't really enjoy it. But he could stomach it, so that was gonna have to be good enough.
"Sorry." Morgan's voice was quiet, indicating she'd gotten a talking to from Pepper. "I wanted to make sure you weren't a murderer... I already lost dad once..."
Well shit.
Peter felt like an ass. He'd gotten her in trouble. Not only that, but he'd made her nervous. "No! No, Morgan, I'm sorry. I get it- you- and I'm- I- you don't know me and I'm... bad at answering questions. I- I'm sorry. I promise I'm not a murderer. Just an idiot."
She giggled at that. "And idiot?!" She burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world to her. "You sound like dad!"
Peter's eyebrows shot up. How could a literal genius ever think of himself as an idiot.
"You promise you're not a murderer? Or an evil alien?"
Pete smiled softly, "cross my heart."
Morgan took a second to squint at him suspiciously. All at once, her smile returned, "ok I believe you."
Peter felt himself relax, "cool."
"You're too silly to be evil."
"Huh," Peter squinted, trying to figure that one out. "...ok?"
She giggled yet again, shaking her head as she stuffed a spoonful of pie into her mouth.
Apparently their conversation was over.
The room lulled peacefully, taking on a new air to before.
Peter still felt super awkward, though.
But he also felt a little less out of place now.
. . .
The rest of the evening had actually passed pretty peacefully. They'd played a game of Uno. Pete had tried to sit out, but, according to Morgan, they needed four players for a real game, so he'd begrudgingly agreed to one round. Five rounds later, he'd actually been feeling pretty light and ok. For a second he'd almost forgotten how out-of-place he was.
But only for a second.
Next thing they all knew, the sun was setting and Morgan was nearly falling face-face into her bowl of fruit. Pepper had scooped her up and taken her upstairs to bed. Meanwhile, Tony guided Peter to the guest bedroom.
The door swung open to reveal what must've been the biggest bedroom Peter had ever seen in his life. A cathedral ceiling hung above, reaching 15 feet at its highest point. Beams ran across the width and a square celestial window was carved into the wall 12 feet up, flooding the room with remnants of the setting sun.
A queen sized bed sat against the right wall, two mahogany bedside tables on either side, each holding a lamp.
The overhead light cast a warm yellow glow over the room, making it feel cozy despite its grande size.
Peter had to admit, he really liked the window at the far end of the room. It was massive and bayed so it had a bench under it that held a fake fur blanket and several red pillows.
"Wow this is..." he couldn't find the right words. It was huge, gigantic, mesmerizing, awesome. "Wow." He decided. "This is your guest bedroom? Can't even imagine how nice your rooms are."
"It's not the guest bedroom." Tony shook his head, earning a quizzical frown from Pete.
"Is it your room?"
Mr. Stark chuckled and wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders. "Kid. It's your room."
"Oh." So Peter was right. It was a guest room that Mr. Stark just decided to now call 'Peter's'. "It's really cool. Thanks."
Hesitating a second, Peter shuffled inside.
Slinging his backpack off of his shoulder, he tossed it on the bed. It sank into the duvet. Peter paused then prodded at the covers. They were so soft and fluffy they may have been literal clouds. Scrunching his fingers, he felt the fabric ball in his palm, smooth as silk, but softer. He pressed down, feeling the mattress now. It was memory foam. Soft yet firm enough to provide proper support.
"Woah." He breathed to himself.
He wasn't used to having a bed that was, well, anything close to good quality. Even in his and May's old apartment, the springs in his bed were shot. He never really minded, though. He knew May was doing her best and he was thankful for it.
He loved her for it.
He...
He missed her.
Somewhere in the distance he felt a soft burn in his eyes.
"How do you like the duvet?" Tony's words almost made Peter jump. He'd gotten so lost in the fancy bed, he'd completely forgotten Tony was standing in the doorway watching him.
Peter cleared his throat and blinked away incipient tears. "It's good, yeah, thanks. It's- it's good."
"We've got different colours- or blankets if you're not a duvet kinda guy."
"I- no- it's perfect, it's good, I like red, and duvets are-" well, he'd never actually had a duvet before, so he wasn't sure, but it felt soft, so it was probably fine "-they're good." He finished, a tight, awkward smile on his face.
"Ok, well, if you change your mind, we've got lots of bedding options."
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks."
Peter's eyes swept across the rest of the room. The far wall held a gas fireplace, the mantle decorated with a few spring-themed knick knacks. To its left there was an open doorway that led to what must've been the biggest walk-in closet Peter had ever seen.
Peter blinked. On the other end of the wall there was a door.
"What's that? Does that lead into the other guest bedroom or?"
Tony's eyes flickered to the door and brief confusion washed over his face before he smirked. Walking over to the door, he opened it up.
"Wait a minute- that's- I have a bathroom all to myself?!" Peter gapped as he stuck his head inside.
"Everyone has their own ensuite in this house."
The bathroom was bigger than his room used to be in their apartment. It had the world's biggest vanity with one of those fancy faucets and a glass bowl sink. A large walk-in shower with too many shower heads to count sat nestled into the wall to the left. Meanwhile, a tiled-in jet tub sat under a window to the right.
The place even had in-floor heating.
It was crazy.
"Oh my god this is crazy," Peter echoed his own thoughts.
A chuckle caught his attention. Tony was still in the doorway, watching with a crinkle in his eyes. The man shook his head and headed out into the bedroom part of the massive-practically-its-own-apartment room. Peter followed.
"There's more blankets and pillows in the lined closet if you need them. Just at the end of the hall near the window."
"Thanks Mr. Stark."
Tony paused before going into the hall, hand resting on the doorknob. "Hey, have a good night, kid."
Something in the way the man had spoken held Peter back for a second. He nodded, attempting a frail smile. "'Night."
