Chapter 14: Miscommunication

Peter and Ned chat quietly about what happened at school while Peter waits for Happy to arrive. The firefighters came back outside when they found no evidence of there ever being smoke, let alone a fire. Principal Morita wasn't happy, to say the least. It's safe to assume that he'll be investigating. He still cancelled school, which both Ned and Peter are grateful for. Happy arrives a few minutes later in the Bentley and motions over Peter. The crowd quiets as they stare at the appearance of the luxury car. So much for keeping a low profile.

"Sorry." Ned gives Peter a sympathetic look, who returns a tight-lipped smile.

"It's okay. I'll see you tomorrow." Peter picks up his backpack, careful to not let the pain of his side show in his movements.

"Are we you know…? Tonight?" Ned asks eagerly, obviously talking about patrol.

"God I hope so. I'll text you." With a deep breath, Peter jogs up to the car and slides into the passenger seat. "Hey, Happy."

"Hey, kid." The voice doesn't come from Happy. Peter jumps slightly and whips around to face the voice behind him. Tony is leaning forward from the backseat with an innocent smile. The gash on Peter's side aches at his sudden movement, but he doesn't show it.

"Mr. Stark?! What are you doing here?!" he practically demands with wide eyes.

"To be honest with you, I'm insulted. A crazy thing goes down at school and you call Happy?" Tony acts insulted. Honestly, he had been worried and anxious the whole ride to Midtown. Though, he'd never admit it.

"Wanna run that by me again?" Happy challenges while driving out of the parking lot.

"Why don't you ever sit in the front seat like a normal person?!" Peter questions followed by a deep breath.

"Because I'm not an ordinary person, I'm extraordinary," Tony corrects. Someone please put me out of my misery, Peter hopes.

"But you didn't need to come. I had everything handled," Peter assures, even though it's only a half truth.

"What exactly was it that you handled?" Tony inquires. Oh, I set myself up for that one, Peter internally berates.

"I'll tell you if you put your seatbelt on." Peter nods towards the backseat. Tony raises both his eyebrows, unamused, but sits back and buckles his seatbelt nonetheless. "So, Mysterio may or may not have made an appearance at school." The car falls deadly silent.

"And you didn't call me?!" Tony demands, his anxiety skyrocketing. Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes. Oh now he wants to communicate? After that whole issue where he wouldn't listen to anything I said? He takes a steadying breath to keep his temper from showing.

"No, because I had it handled. Just like I said. I tried to plant a tracer on him…but it didn't work and he got away," he mutters regrettably.

"Next time, you tell Karen to contact me. You understand? I don't want you dealing with that creep again." Peter scoffs and turns to face Tony.

"I'm my own hero, Mr. Stark! I can take care of myself and I've done a lot to prove that," Peter defends. He tries not to think about how he lost the fight and got hurt. He doesn't want to keep disappointing Tony.

"You're sixteen. You're not even a legal adult. So, no, legally you can't take care of yourself." Tony has a tone of finality in his voice.

"You know that I'm not like other teenagers! If you didn't think I could handle myself, you wouldn't have taken me to Germany." As soon as Peter says it, he regrets it. Tony's face hardens for half a second, but he covers it up almost instantly.

"This isn't up for debate. You don't pursue anything that has to do with Mysterio or I'm telling Aunt May. No stunts. Lord knows if anything happens to you she'll murder me." He rubs his forehead and takes a deep breath. Peter faces forward, opting to not argue and trying to refrain from overthinking. So he only cares about what happens to me because of how May will react? No, don't think like that, Peter. I'm sure he didn't mean it like that… Tony clears his throat, trying to break the tension. "Now that we have that over with, tell us what happened." Peter bites the inside of his cheek and flips through the information in his head.

"Well, he got everyone out by using a massive illusion. Like, the ceiling shook and there were huge cracks. Everyone thought the ceiling was coming down so they ran. Then the fire alarm went off so no one else was inside. I changed into my suit and found Mysterio in the Chem Lab. He was trying to take bottles of ammonia, chlorine, and cyanide. I think I got to him before he could take any, but I'm not sure." Peter explains everything as he stares out the window. Tony hums in thought.

"Those could be precursors to some very not-so-fun hallucinogenic neurotoxins. Like-"

"Lysergic acid diethylamide, phencyclidine, ketamine. Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Peter finishes. There's a slight pause as Tony stares at him.

"Actually I was gonna say LSD and PCP, but that works too. Either way, bad juju. Another reason for you to not be anywhere near that lunatic," Tony grumbles. Peter tries to bite his sarcastic tongue.

"Then what do you plan on doing? He could be creating anything from a hallucinogen to a mass dispersed poison." If he would just let me help then we'd catch this guy faster. I'm not dumb and I'm not unfamiliar with chemistry! I did create my own web fluid after all.

"That's for me to worry about. All you have to worry about is helping the little guy." Funny how he thinks he can control me, especially after what happened at homecoming, Peter thinks bitterly. "Still, I have your training set up for today. Can never be too safe." Tony clicks his tongue against his teeth. Peter interlaces his fingers and takes a shaky breath.

"Well, why are we training when you're saying I can't fight him? Might as well just work on upgrades for the suit instead." Peter tries to be as nonchalant as he can to not seem suspicious.

"Because you use your 'Spidey Sense' on a daily basis. Mysterio or not, you need to be as aware as possible," Tony points out. Peter's leg starts bouncing as he considers his options. I could ask May to call me to get me out of this, but then I'd have to explain to her why I don't want to hangout with Mr. Stark. That isn't something I'd normally do. It's okay, I can convince him. Hopefully.

When they get to the Tower, Happy drops Peter and Tony off without a word. Tony and Peter walk into the elevator and F.R.I.D.A.Y. takes them to the workshop. It's as busy as always with Dum-E and U somehow keeping themselves busy. Either that or Tony sent them on another wild goose chase.

"So, um, where are we training? Are we working with the holograms in here or…?" Peter nervously wrings his hands together.

"Yep. You'll need to put on the suit first," Tony says absentmindedly as he preps the holograms. No, he can't see the suit.

"Actually I was thinking, what about instead of training today we could, we could work on Droney? His scanner hasn't been working through the smokescreens so I thought it would help if we worked on that," Peter rambles lamely. Tony stops what he's doing to look at Peter.

"Don't you think training is a bit more important?" Tony questions.

"Of course! I'm just saying, why not do this while it's fresh in our minds? I mean, I just fought with Mysterio so it makes sense to work on it right away, y'know?" Peter continues to ramble and Tony raises an eyebrow.

"Why don't you want to train?" Peter freezes.

"I'm not saying I don't want to train!" he quickly defends, which only adds to Tony's skepticism. "I'm just prioritizing."

"Priority is your reflexes keeping you alive. Not fixing some drone the size of my thumb." Tony's voice is firm and he crosses his arms. Peter starts to panic. If he sees the suit there's no way he'll miss the giant rip and dried blood.

"I get that but-"

"No buts. I'm right and you know it." Why does he always need to have the last word?

"It's not about being right! I'm trying to do something that'll make me better during a fight and you-"

"Why are you fighting me so much on this?" Tony asks, a tad of his impatience showing.

"Because!" Peter can't find a better excuse. His thoughts are moving too fast.

"Now, I'm gonna ask again. Why don't you want to train? You were so giddy about it this morning. No secrets, kid. That's what got us into that Vulture mess first place." That's what sets Peter's rage over the edge.

"No, what got us into that mess was you not taking me seriously." Tony is slightly taken aback, raising both his eyebrows. What on Earth has gotten into this kid?

"Excuse me? I sent the FBI. You can't get much more serious than that."

"But you didn't communicate! How was I supposed to know?!" Peter raises his voice, unaware of the feelings he had been holding in for the last six months.

"You don't get to backtalk!" Tony raises his voice to match Peter's.

"That's how a conversation works! People talk! But I wouldn't expect you to know that." Peter's breathing races and he can hear the blood pumping through his ears.

"A conversation goes both ways, kid." Tony says through clenched teeth. "I can't help you if you don't communicate with me and frankly, your teenage hormones aren't helping your case."

"Mr. Stark!" Peter's face flushes and he can't think of anything to do but clench his fists in frustration.

"So how about we just take a few breaths and work this out," Tony proposes, even though Peter can hear the tension in his voice. Before Peter can respond, Tony extends a hand to rest on his shoulder. Peter's temper flares and he aggressively swipes his hand away. The sudden, sharp movement pulls at his laceration and he can't hold back the gasp. His hands shoot up to cover his side. "Peter?" All the frustration in Tony's voice is gone in an instant.

"Nothing! I'm fine." Warm liquid spreads over Peter's hands. Crap, the blood soaked through the toilet paper. Ha, of course it did. It's toilet paper. He faces away from Tony and tries to take deep breaths.

"You are not fine. Let-"

"Stomach ache. I need to go to the bathroom," he mutters, but a firm hand grips his shoulder.

"Let me see," Tony orders. Peter's heart hammers against his chest. Still, he slowly turns around with his eyes cast down and removes his hands. Both of his palms are smeared with red. His button-up shirt already has a stain from the blood. He doesn't dare to look at Tony's reaction.

"For fuck's sake," Tony mutters. His voice is slightly unsteady as he wonders how he didn't notice this before.

"I swear it's not as bad as it looks! It's already healing! Well, it was…" I just don't want to be a burden, Peter's words go unspoken.

"Like hell it is!" Tony snaps. Peter knows that's his cue to shut up. "Fri, get Bruce or Helen or someone in here now! I don't give a shit who it is!" Tony runs a hand through his hair, successfully messing it up, and throws his sunglasses off to the side.

"I'm sorry, Boss, but both Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho are outside the facility at the moment. Would you like me to call the Medbay?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. answers patiently.

"Mother f-" He drags out the "f," but surprisingly doesn't cuss. "No. Dum-E, bring me the first-aid." Dum-E makes a whistle of confirmation before extending its long…arm? Face? Appendage? It's unclear.

"Mr. Stark, I-"

"No. No. I can't talk to you right now or my blood pressure is going to explode." He raises a finger at Peter, who closes his mouth again. "Go sit on the couch." Peter keeps his eyes on the floor and walks over to the couch, but then stops.

"I, uh, I don't wanna get blood on it," he mumbles quietly. He glances up to Tony to see that he's holding his head in his hand.

"For the love of all that is holy, sit on the damn couch." Peter sits without further hesitation. Dum-E swivels back towards Tony with a red first aid kit in its grasp, then proceeds to drop it on the floor. Dum-E…isn't really the sharpest tool in the shed. Tony snatches it up off the floor and marches to Peter. He sits on the couch before opening the first-aid, but Peter notices the man is slightly shaky.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks in a hushed voice.

"Do I seem okay?" Tony demands. "I consider myself a pretty approachable guy. So what I don't understand is why you wouldn't tell me what happened! You act like you'd rather bleed out than ask anyone for help! I don't know about you, but I don't want to plan a sixteen year old kid's funeral!" He angrily pulls out disinfectants and slams them down on the cushion. "And of course while you're bleeding you're asking me if I'm okay." He shakes his head in disbelief with a humorless laugh.

"I'm sorry…" Sorry doesn't cut it.

"Oh damn right you are. But not as sorry as you're gonna be, I can tell you that. You're gonna wish that your aunt were here to ground you." Well that's encouraging. "Lift your shirt." Peter does as he says, revealing the gash. It's crusted with dried blood around the edges, but fresh blood is making its way to the surface. "Is that…toilet paper?" Tony looks between Peter and the wound.

"It's not like a bathroom has gauze lying around," Peter quietly answers.

"I'm going to need therapy after this." Tony takes a deep breath before starting to clean the surrounding skin. Luckily, Peter has a high pain tolerance so he doesn't react. Tony, however, has a stone cold stare of concentration that could scare anyone.

"You seem like you're in more pain than I am." Peter tries to lift some of the tension by adding some humor into his voice. He doesn't know if it works, but Tony at least responds.

"Yeah, I heard that's a side effect of having a teenager," he grumbles. For some reason, his wording makes Peter feel like Tony might actually…care. Of course, he knows better than that. Tony fully cleans the wound, then pulls out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

"That's going to sting," Peter observes, his eyes glued to the bottle.

"Like a bitch," Tony agrees. He puts a towel underneath the gash and slowly pours the hydrogen peroxide onto it. Small, white bubbles fizzle while cleaning it and it burns like hell. Peter tries to breathe through the pain, biting the inside of his cheek. "You alright?" Tony asks carefully. Peter rapidly nods.

"I've had worse," he answers truthfully. Tony slowly shakes his head as he dabs the liquid away. "Don't worry, I don't think I can get infections."

"We don't know that and I'm not taking any chances." With that, Tony applies large butterfly bandages to close the wound before placing a adhesive pad over it and wrapping Peter's torso in gauze.

"I could've done all that, Mr. Stark." I don't want him to just see me as an incapable kid. "I've been doing stuff like this by myself for-"

"If you tell me one more time about you getting hurt, I'm going to build a multimillion dollar bubble just to stick you in it." He rubs his hands together, then holds his face.

"I'm sorry," Peter repeats with his head lowered. His leg bounces anxiously to try to get rid of some of his nervous energy.

"Go change into a clean shirt. We'll skip training for today. You can go do whatever it is teenagers do until Happy can take you home. As long as you stay inside the Tower. And from now on," Peter doesn't need enhanced senses to feel Tony's unwavering stare "you always call me if something happens. I don't care if it's Mysterio or a damn paper cut. You. Call. Me. That isn't a suggestion." Peter immediately nods without argument. "I need a drink," Tony whispers under his breath. Most people wouldn't have heard it, but for Peter it was as clear as day. Mr. Stark wouldn't drink, like, alcohol, right? I mean, he's old enough but he wouldn't get drunk with me here? Peter wonders. Tony stands and Peter follows him to the elevator once again. On the way by, Peter grabs his backpack which contains the damaged suit that he fortunately hasn't had to show Tony yet. I feel like my life is just going in circles sometimes. Peter's heart drops when they reach the penthouse and Tony walks straight to the bar.

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna go change, do some homework," Peter mutters. He quickly heads up the stairs as Tony pours a glass who-knows-what. Why is that bothering me so much? It's just alcohol…which is literally poison to the human body and slowly kills your liver. No biggie. He closes the bedroom door behind him, sets his backpack down, and immediately pulls his shirt over his head. Is Mr. Stark drinking because of me? The questions force their way into his head. Did I upset him so much that he thought it would be better to drink than to deal with me? Am I really that overwhelming? He doesn't have the energy to push the thoughts back. He stands in silence, his head filled with doubts and concerns, until his phone buzzes in his back pocket. It's a simple text:

Guy in the Chair

Ned: are we patrolling?

He considers Ned's question. Tony would probably murder him if he found out he left to patrol, especially after what happened today. He even said to stay inside the Tower. Unless that's just a liability issue since Tony is technically "overseeing Peter's activities." Peter can't help but scoff. How's he going to keep an eye on me while he's drunk? Does he even care? Maybe he's sick of me again. But Mr. Stark is a nice person, I know that. He's just not great at showing it sometimes. He wouldn't have bandaged me up if he didn't care. But I'm just making everything harder for him. So much so that he'd rather turn to alcohol, apparently. Peter takes a long, deep breath.

Peter: yeah