Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Marvel Studios, Disney, and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: ...Okay, so before you all go "what the actual fuck Selene" at me, I have had a not-so-fun year. I'm at college, currently suffering after a bunch of midterms. And I just decided I wanted to write something funny for a change, hence me remembering this crazy story idea I concocted a few years ago.

Not sure if/when the actual story that this is a companion piece to will be published. I guess it depends on what the response is to this little ficlet. So if you like it, feel free to review/comment and do whatever else it is that you do to show you like a story. If you don't like it...well, couldn't honestly care about ya. Sorry lol.

Sincerely,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~take on me~

~take me on~

Tony Stark was not having a good day.

He wasn't having a good week, actually. Even before the Capsicle and his merry band of men had decided to go and become international criminals, he had been having a pretty shitty week. First he and Pepper had decided to go on "break," then that woman at MIT had berated him over her dead son, and then the Accords that had partially caused this entire mess had been put in place. And then Steve had to make Tony's already bad week worse by breaking his friend out of an international holding, which led him to where he was now.

Sitting in a small apartment in Queens, pretending to eat a walnut-date loaf that honestly wasn't much better than it sounded while also talking to a woman who was way hotter than she had any right to be, considering that she was somebody's aunt.

Tony had done his research, you see. Back before Steve had decided to go rogue and Natasha had asked him who meant when he said "I have an idea" or something along those lines, he had heard about a certain ladybug-inspired vigilante flying around New York. Yes, literally flying around it. He had initially needed to see it to in order to believe it and even after that, he still wasn't completely sure if he did.

At first, he hadn't known what to make of the vigilante, or as she called herself, the Ladybird. The teenager – because there was no doubt in his mind that that was what she was – was way stronger than she should've been and also way smarter, seeing as how she had presumably built the insect-inspired wings that she flew around the city with. But her sense of style was awful, because seriously? A red hoodie with black spots on it, a fabric surgical mask with the same design, black welding goggles, a black pleated skirt, and black leggings? How did the thieves and would-be-rapists that she caught not laugh in her face outright?

So, out of both a curiosity to learn more about the horrendously-dressed teenager herself and the wings that she had built, he had done some digging into her. Researched her. Traced her. What have you.

And that was how he found out that she was not really a she at all, but rather a fourteen-year-old boy by the name of Peter Benjamin Parker.

The discovery only necessitated further (illegal) research. After all, what kind of teenage boy would willingly dress up not only as a ladybug vigilante, but a girl ladybug vigilante at that? Said research revealed that the answer was a boy who was assigned male at birth when perhaps he shouldn't have been. A boy who had lost first his parents in a plane crash when he was eight, and then his uncle from a gunshot wound when he was twelve. A boy who Tony instantly felt guilty at disturbing the privacy of, but decided he would eventually bring in when it was necessary. Absolutely necessary.

And as it turned out, that time was now.

Just for other reasons than what he had had in mind.

" – really just a brilliant kid," the voice of the kid's aunt, Maybelle Parker, said, causing Tony to blink and stir out of his current train of thought. Right. He was supposed to be listening to the unusually attractive aunt, not spending his time off in la-la land. "My little genius."

"That he is," Tony agreed with a smile. He had seen the kid's grades; even if he didn't build the wings by himself, his grades were all off the charts, even in the non-STEM-related subjects.

Suddenly, there was the sound of the front door being unlocked, which made both Tony and May look at it in expectant surprise. "That'll be Peter," the woman said, the smile that was already on her face widening at the thought of her nephew.

Sure enough, not a moment later the door opened, revealing that the kid had been on the other side of it. He was wearing a blue baggy hoodie and was holding a beaten up DVD player in one hand, which he proceeded to put down on the dining room table, and a set of keys in the other. A pair of white earbuds were stuffed in his ears.

"Hey Aunt May," the kid said, barely sparing his aunt and Tony a single glance, let alone two.

Tony's lips twitched at the thought. Boy, was this kid in for the surprise of his life.

"Hey, Peter," May replied with forced casualness as the two of them watched the kid move into the kitchen. "How was school today?"

"Okay. You know, there's this crazy cary parked outside..."

Tony could see the moment that it clicked in the kid's brain. One moment, he was walking towards the fridge while looking over to his aunt; the next, his footsteps came to a stop, his eyes widened, and the keys that he had previously been holding in his hand clattered to the floor.

"Hello, Mr. Parker," Tony said as he resisted the urge to smile.

What happened next proved to him that, even if there had been some minuscule chance that the kid actually wasn't the Ladybird (there wasn't, Tony's tracking and research capabilities via FRIDAY ensured that), that chance would've been instantly obliterated into nonexistence. The kid was just too cagey as he stood there, first stammering, then laughing, then awkwardly crossing and uncrossing his arms, his eyes darting back and forth from Tony and his aunt in knowing fear. Knowing, because he knew that Tony knew who he was. And fear, because somehow the kid had been able to keep the fact that he was a crossdressing vigilante a secret from his aunt, and he was terrified that she was going to find out. From Tony.

...Which, okay, maybe that would've happened, had Tony been a more responsible adult and not needing Peter to come with him to Germany as fast as possible. But as it was, he was not all that responsible and the fate of the Avengers was resting on his shoulders, so telling the aunt could wait for another time. If he even had to tell the aunt at all.

Finally, after sixty seconds too many of watching the kid think that his world was crashing down all around him, Tony had had enough. Turning to the aunt, he asked, "Could I have five minutes alone with him?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," May said with a smile, before she turned to look at her nephew. "Peter, why don't you take him to your room?"

The kid flushed, honestly looking like he would rather do just about anything else, but nevertheless agreed. Tony stood, and the two of them walked down the small hallway inside the apartment to Peter's bedroom door, which he opened and gestured for Tony to walk inside without another word.

Once the two of them were inside, the kid closed the door behind himself. Locked it. Then, in a steady voice that conveyed the fact that he was already planning to try to lie his way out of this, said, "Look, Mr. Stark, I did not apply for your grant or for your internship, so – "

"Nah-ah!" Tony interjected. "Me first. Quick question of the rhetorical variety: that's you, isn't it?"

As he spoke, he took his phone out of his pocket and turned its hologram mode on, causing a video of the Ladybird flying through Queens to pop up. And then another video of the Ladybird catching a car just as it was about to hit a bus, three thousand pounds and all. Peter's face paled at the sight, his eyes widening even as the denials were falling fast from his lips.

Tony entertained him like that for a hot second, his eyes roaming around the room as he looked for the prime spot for a teenager such as the kid to hide a secret vigilante suit in. When he found the attic space, a grin twitched at his lips, and with a baseball bat that was lying nearby he poked at it. The result was the kid's makeshift suit popping down, and the kid himself rushing forwards to grab at it before Tony could get a really good look at it – and most importantly, the wings – up-close.

"So..." Tony said. "You're the Ladybug...ling. Crime-fighting Ladybug. You're the Ladybug girl?"

The kid let out a sigh, defeated. "It's the Ladybird," he muttered. "I go by the Ladybird."

Tony hummed. "Interesting choice of name. Interesting choice of insect, actually. Not to mention identity. I mean, who would think that a fourteen-year-old boy is actually the crime-fighting girl known as the Ladybird, right?"

Peter merely glared at him as he walked across the room. "Can't believe this. I was actually having a really good today you know, Mr. Stark," he vented. "Didn't miss my train, found that perfectly good DVD player just sitting there, and my Algebra test – nailed it!" Here, he hit a random spoon that he had picked up from where it had been lying on his desk against his old computer, as if for emphasis. "Then you come here and..."

He shook his head.

Guilt twinged in Tony's stomach. He hadn't wanted to invade the kid's life like this. He hadn't actually wanted to approach the kid at all. Not until he was at least sixteen, anyways. Maybe even eighteen. But here they were; Tony needed him and he was in dire need of a costume upgrade, even if he still hadn't been able to figure out how the wings worked. He had the rest of the suit figured out, though. It was more than enough to make up for that.

"...Alright, listen," Tony said as he sat down on the chair next to Peter's desk and pulled the so-called "suit" into his lap. It was interesting, if only because of the identity it represented and the fact that the wings to it were missing. Where were the wings, anyways? Curious minds were dying to know. "I have some questions and even if I have a feeling I don't want to know the answers to all of them, I'm going to ask them anyways. And you're going to answer them. So, first off: why dress up as a girl? I mean, you're not..."

He trailed off, the way that Peter flushed and crossed his arms over his chest making him pause. Right. Peter didn't know that he knew the other stuff about him as well, and this really wasn't the time or place to talk about it.

But still, he couldn't help the words that tumbled out of his mouth next. "...Are you?"

"No!" the kid replied defiantly. "No, I'm not – I'm not transgender, if that's what you mean. I'm – I'm cis. Male. He/him/his pronouns. It's just...I tried going out as a guy, you know? Nobody would believe me when I said I was a guy, not a girl. So I decided that if I couldn't make them believe me, why couldn't I play into their beliefs? No one is going to suspect the friendly neighborhood Ladybird is a guy, after all. No one is going to suspect..."

It was the kid's turn to trail off this time.

"Right. Smart," Tony commented as noncommittally as possible. Part of him was tempted to play with the "suit" then and there in order to get Peter to talk better, like pretend to wear his goggles or something like that, but the conversation was too serious for such an idea. Maybe sometime in the future he could do it, after he had gotten to know the kid better. "Next question: why the ladybug? Why the wings? Not that they aren't cool or anything, because they're amazing, but I gotta know why you made them over something else."

Peter frowned. "That's more than one question."

"Then give me more than one answer."

Nervously, the kid wet his lips. Took in a deep breath. Shifted his feet.

Then: "Well, first off, I didn't make the wings."

"Okay, then who did?"

It was a simple enough question, Tony thought. A reasonable one, too. Because if the kid didn't make the wings, who did? From what he had gathered, no one else in Peter's life knew about him. Not the aunt, not the best friend, and certainly not the girl who acted like she wasn't his friend but also sat at the same lunch table with him everyday. So if he didn't make the wings, there was someone else that Tony needed to meet and make sure wasn't an adult manipulating this kid into being a superhero...like he was about to do. Great. Just great.

Pot, meet kettle.

Unexpectedly, though, Peter shook his head again at Tony's question. "No, you don't understand," he said. "I didn't make the wings. No one made the wings."

Yep, the kid was right. He didn't understand.

"Not following," he said.

The kid's eyes flitted over to the door, then to the window on the opposite side of the room. It seemed like he was debating something. But whatever it was that he was debating, he also seemed to reach an answer to it rather quickly, because he nodded. "Right," he said. "Right, right. I'll show you. Just...don't freak out on me, okay?"

"I make no such promises," he announced, his eyebrows furrowing. Just what was the kid going to do?

Peter deflated a bit at his reply, before shaking his head again. With shaking fingers, he reached up to the zipper of his hoodie and pulled it down, before he shrugged out of the hoodie entirely, revealing a white science-y shirt underneath.

"Don't freak out on me," Peter said determinedly, his eyes locking with Tony's.

Tony, who had been debating on whether or not to make a joke that definitely wasn't appropriate, said nothing in reply.

Then, Peter rolled his shoulders. Once. Twice. Three times.

And Tony had to resist the urge to let out a scream.

Because there, in front of him, were the wings that had left him wondering as to how they were made, extending from the kid's back. Attached to the kids back, he now realized. Both the smaller set of wings, which were similar to the design of the ladybug's shell in pattern but not in design, and the larger set, which were identical to the actual wings of the Coccinellidae. Insect-like in appearance and totally not supposed to be attached to a human and yet here they were, in all of their shimmering glory.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Peter didn't choose the ladybug at all; the ladybug had chosen him. How, though, Tony didn't know. Wasn't even sure if he even wanted to know.

(Oh God, he was going to be sick. Not in front of the kid, though. Later. Much, much later. After he had had time to properly deal with all of this.)

Of course, just as soon as the wings appeared, they were gone. Folded neatly back into their place on Peter's back. Presumably. Possibly. Maybe. Again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to that question. "Mr. – Mr. Stark?" the kid asked. "Are you okay?"

He resisted the urge to laugh. Okay? This kid had – well, he should probably just throw all of his assumptions out the window, but something had obviously happened to this kid. And yet, here he was, asking him if he was okay?

"Holy shit," he breathed, voicing basically the summation of the thoughts that were currently swirling around in his mind. "How did you...?"

Peter offered him a small smile. "It's a long story."

"Tell me."

The kid sat down on his bed, clasping and unclasping his fingers. He took in a deep breath. "Well...would you believe me if I told you I was bitten by a radioactive ladybug?"

And just like that, Tony's day somehow went from "not good" to both better and worse, at the same time.

Word Count: 2,704