"What?" the way he said it made it sound like that was all the explanation that he needed to give. "Peter?"

"Peter Parker."

Tony scowled.

"How did you get in here?"

"Walked in."

"Jarvis?"

"Yes?"

"What the hell?"

"Elaborate."

"Why is there a little kid in my apartment?"

"He came in about an hour ago."

"And you didn't think I should know?"

"You told me no interruptions, earlier," the AI pointed out.

"This would be something that you interrupted me to tell me," Tony snapped, annoyed at how calm his AI sounded. He looked at the little boy "What are you doing here? Where are your parents?"

Jesus, someone had to be looking for him.

"I don't have any."

"What?"

"Parents," the boy repeated, patiently. "I don't have any."

Oh.

"Well, where are you supposed to be?"

"At Eric's."

"Who's he?"

"The man who runs the home. Eric Tatro."

"Do you have a number? Jarvis? Find out who he belongs to and call them. They must be going crazy looking for him."

"I'm going to need more than Mr. Tatro," the AI replied. "There are 47 Tatros in Manhattan, alone, Seventeen are named Eric, or E. If you add in the boroughs, there are-"

"Call a cop. Better yet, call building security. Let them deal with him."

"Yes, sir." There was a pause, while Tony and the boy stared at each other. "They will be here in a minute."

"Good." Tony scowled at the boy. "You're probably in a lot of trouble, you know? Breaking into someone apartment without knocking? Being out past your bedtime. Walking-"

"I didn't break in. I opened the door. I didn't break anything."

"You're trespassing. They put people in jail for that," Tony told him, annoyed. He'd ruined a perfectly good tryst, after all. And wasted the night's efforts. "Probably won't get out until you're eighteen."

"Ten years for trespassing?"

Which told Tony he was eight. And could do simple math.

He was a pretty scrawny eight, really, Tony decided, looking at him, critically.

"Maybe more," Stark told the kid. "I'm pretty famous, you know."

"Yeah."

The boy continued to stare at him. An odd kind of look. Not the hero worship that Tony was used to seeing on the faces of the kids (and adults) that he saw, usually. This boy's expressive eyes were uncertain. He almost looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure that he could. Or should.

"Did you sneak in here for an autograph?" Tony asked. "Because I don't do them. My secretary signs everything and tells people that it's mine."

"No."

"Why, then?"

The kid hesitated.

"I just wanted to ask-"

A knock on the door interrupted them, and two of the building security people appeared. Both were men. Both hulking and intimidating.

"Everything alright, Mr. Stark?" one asked, looking at the two.

"No. Young Mr. Parker here just showed up in my apartment when I came home a few minutes ago. I'd take it kindly if a) you found out where he belongs and return him there, and b) you make sure the security supervisors understand that I like my privacy and would appreciate it if they did a better job of protecting it."

"Yes, sir." They crossed the room, looking annoyed at being lectured by the billionaire. "Come on, kid."

Peter looked at the two men, and then back at Tony. He handed him the glass, which was empty, now.

"Thank you for the water."

Without another word, he turned. One of the men caught his arm in a beefy hand.

"Don't hurt him," Tony said, surprising himself. "Just get him out of here."

"Right."

A moment later, they were gone.

"Jarvis? Find out who he is, and how he got in."

"Yes, sir."

"And next time someone sneaks in, for fuck's sake, tell me."

"Yes, sir."

Tony set the glass on the bar and went to take a shower.

Stupid kid.

OOOOOOOO

Peter was sitting in a chair in the security office when the door opened and a large man came through the door. He was obviously hurriedly dressed, with sweats, tennis shoes with no socks, a t-shirt and a jacket on over it. Easily 6'5, he towered over the security officer who had been waiting for him, and probably outweighed him by a hundred pounds. And none of it was fat. Blonde hair that was cut into a crewcut, and steely blue eyes, the man gave the little boy an exasperated glance before turning to the security officer and fishing out his wallet for his ID.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

He turned to the security guard.

"Did he break anything?"

"Nope. Just annoyed Tony Stark."

The man frowned, and looked back at Peter.

"Tony Stark?"

The boy looked down at his feet.

"Got into his apartment, somehow," the security guard said. "Mooched a glass of water…"

"Are you crazy?"

"No." Peter hesitated. "I just wanted to talk to him."

There was a long, drawn out sigh.

"You're too smart to be that dumb, Peter boy."

"I'm sorry."

"Can I take him home?"

"He's all yours."

The man held out a huge hand, and Peter got out of the chair and took it. Despite their size difference, Peter had no trouble keeping up with his long strides as they walked from the office and down the corridor toward the elevator.

"I thought you were asleep."

"I was."

"Then you woke up and said to yourself 'I think I'll go bother Tony Stark'?"

"No." But really, that was almost exactly what had happened. "I had a dream…"

"You're always dreaming." The voice was gruff, but the hand holding his squeezed, gently. "Was it a nightmare? Or a dream?"

"A dream."

"About what?"

"He was telling me how to be a superhero."

Another sigh.

"You're a lot of things, Peter Parker," Eric Tatro told him. "You're brilliant. And brave. And you've got a stronger spirit than anyone I've ever met. But you're too young to be a superhero."

"I know. I just-"

The elevator opened and they got in. There were two tough-looking young men standing in it, already, and both sized up the newcomers. Peter they dismissed with a glance, but both of them took a careful step away from Tatro, recognizing that the man wouldn't put up with any foolishness, and not even close to being drunk enough to challenge someone so formidable-looking. The boy leaned against the man's leg, and felt that big hand come to rest on the top of his head. He smiled when Eric began moving him around, pushing his head this way and that, and when he looked up, the man who was his foster dad was smiling down at him.

"If anyone asks, I yelled at you for getting me out of bed to come down and get you. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good."

They got off at the garage level, and Peter walked with him over to his car, but as he got into the back seat and buckled in, he looked back at the elevator, almost longingly.

He had to talk to him. Tony Stark was probably the only one who could help him. Eric was great, and Peter really liked him, but the man didn't know anything about superheroes, and Peter needed an expert. Since the only other ones he knew about were at the Avenger's compound which was definitely out of walking distance, Peter knew it had to be Tony Stark.

He just needed to get him alone.

When he did, he promised himself that he wouldn't freeze, again, and would make himself actually talk to him.