In Which Peter Needs To Slow Down

Catherine looked at Tony as security phoned his desk saying that Spider-Man was on his way up to their office. He was standing away from his phone, arms crossed as he played with a pen in his hands. His eyes were unfocused as he clicked the pen on and off. He didn't respond and soon the phone shut itself off.

She had tried to force herself to sit in one of the two guest chairs. It was uncomfortable, disgustingly like sitting knowing any second that the seat would break. So she stood near him by the desk.

"I can't believe that we have to do this," He muttered, "I need a drink."

"Do you have enough for two? Whiskey?" She pressed her fingers against the wood surface, allowing the sharp edge to prick into her skin.

He turned. "Yeah."

"Afterwards. We will drink after."

They looked at the door. The clock ticked loudly. He wasn't there yet. There was still an elevator ride up but knowing he was in the building was enough. She tapped on the desk, beating out a different rhythm.

"Stop that. It's a 19th century mahogany."

She continued. "If it's that old, it's gone through a lot more than my finger tapping on it."

"Stop it anyways." He snapped.

She pressed her hand into the table. "I think if we come at him with empathy, this is going to go a lot better."

He laughed, sharp and short. "Yeah. Sure. Empathy. What a cute word."

Catherine tightened her lips together. Nerves were in her stomach too.

"We need to get through to him before he does something even more stupid."

The door still didn't open. The elevator must have had a few stops. Part of her didn't want him to show up. Part of her wanted to go home and wish that none of this had ever happened.

But where was the fun in that?

"This was pretty stupid. Damn kid could have died."

She felt her stomach growl. It was past dinner. They should have thought this through a little bit better. Rain was running down the window.

"How's engagement party planning?"

"Terrible. Pepper's parents want it to be perfect and that means having their fingers in everything." Tony rubbed a hand through his hair. "Do you care if the cellist comes from the Philharmonic or the Symphony?"

There was a flash of blue and red at Tony's secretary's desk through the glass wall. Tony stopped his complaining immediately. Her breath caught in her throat and she straightened.

"Tony, Spider-Man is here for his appointment," Ashley paged through.

He pressed the intercom. "I'm busy. Tell him to take a seat."

Catherine hoped that the anger in his words didn't carry through. She saw Ashley tell Peter and he stepped back surprised and then took an awkward seat. He played with his fingers in his lap and his toe tapped against the floor.

"You are busy?" She asked.

"Look," Tony said, "if we ice him a little, things will go better."

Peter's head snapped back to his hands as she glanced at him. "There is a chance that we can fix this."

Ashley paged through again, her tone bored, "Mrs. Parker is on the phone again."

She saw Peter stiffen.

"Tell her that nothing has changed since the last hour."

She paused and then continued, "Sure."

The line disconnected with a cheerful beep.

Tony took a seat, moving his computer screen to the side, leaving an odd blank space. The pen in his hand went back in the jar. He pressed down the newspaper on his desk.

He glared at her. "Remember, this was your idea."

Catherine took one of the other chairs feeling stiff again. "This isn't even in my job description."

"Yes it is. 'Other Duties as Assigned'." He shot back and then opened his intercom. "We're ready."

Spider-Man sat in the chair for a moment longer, unwilling to come in, frozen in his spot.

He opened it up again. "We're growing old here."

That jerked him out of his seat. He walked quickly to the glass door and opened it. He didn't come in, instead he curled around it, using it like a shield, and poked his head in.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Catherine kept her face straight. This needed to go right. They needed to make some headway. Part of her had thought they had made some improvement last week but here he was. The disappointment was heavy on her shoulders.

"Five seconds ago, punk. Take a seat," Tony snapped. Catherine winced.

Peter walked in the room and carefully closed the door. He crept forward like he was sneaking in, the shoes making no noise on the wooden floor. Tony pressed a button and the glass walls darked. The rain still hit the window. He pointed to the only empt chair pulled up to the desk and Peter gingerly sat there on the edge, his heels lifted off the ground and his hands clasped.

"Take the mask off."

"But-" He turned in his chair to look back, looking at the black wall.

"It's a secure room. I know how much your privacy means to you." Tony leaned forward. "Or does it anymore since you so easily spilled the beans to your aunt?"

"Tony," she said but he didn't hear her. Easing him into this conversation might have been easier.

"That was an accident." Peter muttered to the floor and took off the mask. He looked haunted, like he had spent the whole day fighting ghosts.

He was pale in the office lights. There was a fresh bruise across his neck. Someone had gotten a rope around it for a second and pulled hard. The sight of it tightened the muscles in her back. It looked fresh. Strange for him.

Tony pressed. "That didn't answer my question Mr. Parker."

"Yes, privacy means something to me. Sir." The words came out quickly.

"Well, It doesn't matter anymore because here we are and I've got to slap your hand before your aunt goes crazy and moves you to Canada. She's about one more gunshot away from that. Do you want that kid?"

Peter swallowed. The corners of his eyes were going pink.

"Well?"

Catherine didn't interrupt. This had to happen. She knew it. Tony knew it. Maybe even Peter knew it. This went too far already.

"I-"

"No," Tony steamrolled over him, standing in the process towering over the kid, "Here is what I get to deal with now. You want to put yourself in danger. I get it. But now not only do I have to babysit you, I have to babysit your aunt. What do you think I do all day? I sit on my hands? Who do you think builds all this tech? Who built that suit?"

Something changed in Peter's face. It was close to frustration and confusion but edging onto anger. Something rare in the kid.

"I don't get it. I'm just doing my job like usual." He stumbled to his feet.

"You aren't. You are doing more than your job. What the hell is this?" Tony straightened from behind the desk and Peter's foot slipped back a little.

Tony took the folded newspaper off his desk and slid it across. A black and white photo of Spider-Man was swinging across above the fold. In big bold letters was the damning evidence, the reason that they were all in the room: Spider-Man Takes Down An Armed Drug Cartel!

Catherine nearly dropped her phone as she exited the subway this morning when she had found out herself.

"You don't deal with drug cartels kid. It's number seventy on the list of don't mess with, right under hurricanes and right before aliens."

Peter took the paper, studying it.

Tony continued. "It's out of your league. Catherine can't keep stitching you back together."

Peter looked at Catherine. He was silently asking her the question that she didn't want to answer.

"For once, I agree with him. You can be killed. We know that."

A muscle flexed in Peter's neck making the bruise roll.

He turned back to Tony. "I told you, just do my job."

Now she could hear the sharpness in Peter's voice. The paper dropped to the table. He wasn't backing down. This wasn't going well. Tony looked away, fiercely studying the abstract painting on the wall.

"No. You aren't. You don't deal with that kind of dangerous people. Scientific labs are cute. Drugs are not. Why the hell did you go there? Why didn't you call us?"

Peter threw up his hands. "You weren't doing anything about them!"

"This is not about me. Don't make this about me kid. This is about you."

"I'm not a kid."

She'd never seen Peter this angry before. He had pulled up to his full height and muscles were tight against the suit. This was something that she had only seen in highlight reels. This was fire that kept him going, that made him stand up to things that would drive sane people away.

Tony's fist pushed hard against his 19th century mahogany table.

Peter was picking the wrong target.

"Yes. You absolutely are a kid." Tony's breathing heightened.

"I'm Spider-Man." Peter pointed out Tony's window. "That's my city."

"You are a Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, emphasis on no goddamn drug cartels."

"That doesn't make any sense. It was in my neighborhood!"

They were rounding on each other. Tony made large strides around the table. She could see Peter shaking as he matched him. They stood toe to toe.

"It doesn't have to. You are in high school, freaking high school." Tony's voice cracked on the end of the sentence before he plowed forward. "You just learned about the pythagorean theorem, what, last week? Do you know how dangerous those people are?"

Now he was on the verge of yelling.

"I'm stronger than you think." Peter matched him.

"Who the hell is this kid?" Tony asked her, ignoring Peter.

He stepped between them. "I'm fifteen."

"And fifteen years too stupid to know what's best for him. You are going to get yourself killed and soon. What will your aunt think of that?" Tony snarled back.

That question hit Peter like a blow but he snapped back. "What about all those people I saved that night? They don't matter?"

Tony opened his mouth and she couldn't take it. They were on the verge of deciding words wouldn't be enough. She didn't want to know who would win.

"That's it." She pushed her way in between the two of them.

"Get yourself under control." She pushed Tony back and then rounded on Peter. "You need to slow down and-"

He interrupted her immediately. "I'm-"

God. He wasn't hearing her. She needed him to. She had to. There had been over thirty armed people at the site. How he stood in front of her, she didn't know. She couldn't have Peter die next time because of them.

She grasped the front of his suit. The fabric pulled tight. His hands came up but froze.

She shook him slightly as she spoke, "Peter Parker you need to listen to us."

"But-"

"No. Listen to me!" It shot out of her like a bullet. It echoed.

His eye went wide. "Yes, ma'am."

"We aren't asking you to stop being Spider-Man. We aren't asking you to change. We're asking you to play it safe." The fabric slipped away from her fingers as she pressed her palm against his pounding heart. "For your sake. For our sake. For Aunt May's sake. Don't you understand how many people care about you Peter?"

"I need…I want…" He paused. As she watched, something fell away in his eyes, collapsing and disappearing. The fight erased itself from his body and he shrunk, falling apart. He backed away from her grasp and she let him. His eyes fell to the floor. He seemed to remember who he was. The high school kid returned.

She backed herself away until she ran into the desk. Emotion bubbled over in her. She fought to keep them off her face but her vision wavered anyways. She couldn't loose the kid. She couldn't. It would break her. There would be no recovery. Even the thought of the dangerous place that he had put himself in made her sick to her stomach.

The chair squealed as Peter sat down in it.

"We need you to stop being so risky kid," Tony said quietly.

He nodded mutely as more to himself then to them.

"Go home and handle May."

Peter looked up. "Is she mad?"

"She's furious."

"This is so hard." His head fell into his hands with a hitched breath. "I'm ruining everything."

Damn. Catherine slipped off the desk. They may have pushed it too far. Tony turned away instantly, staring out the window.

She tried to think what to say. Nothing was right. The office was still as teen pulled himself back together with shaky breaths. He eventually looked up, his eyes red but the tears never appearing.

They were scattered across the room. Catherine stood near the desk and Tony stared out the window.

"I'm-" his words caught his mouth as his eyes jumped between the two of them. "I'm sorry for being such trouble, Mr. Stark."

"Just clean it up." It was a simple statement. If there was emotion in that voice, Tony had edited it out.

"We all make mistakes." She added and gave Peter back his mask. She tried to smile at him but it came out wrong, more like a grimace with all teeth. He wiped his face and nodded.

He stared at the mask in his hands for a minute and then pulled it back on. "I'll-I'll be better."

Part of her remembered when he had said that last week.

Tony didn't watch him go. Instead, he remained still as Peter lingered for a moment longer staring at Stark's back and quietly left the office.

Tony was frozen where he had stood as the door clicked shut. Catherine let out a sigh. In all the different ways that could go, angry Peter hadn't been put into her calculations. She watched him hurry past Ashley who didn't even look up and rushed into the elevator.

Then he was gone and the room was filled with the ticking clock again.

She walked across the office and popped open the cabinet. The alcoholic smell almost welcomed her as she poured them both drinks. The glasses were cold in her hands as she went over to the billionaire.

"I don't want kids if they turn out to be like that," He said as he took one from her. His hand was shaking. Wordlessly she clinked the drinks together. She didn't look at his face. The grown man deserved a little privacy.

They sipped their drinks and watched the rain fall down the glass. The silence of the room almost a relief.

"Is this on doctor's orders?" He asked after a few drinks.

"Shut up."

I had to write this in one sitting. I texted my friend K right after I finished and I said: "I'm so tense. I'm writing a scene where Tony, Catherine and Peter are all fighting and I need a goddamn hug."

I still need that hug.

What do you think?

Thank you for reading as always - Quin