You guys, your kind reviews are such wonderful motivation! I can't thank you all enough!
As always, a huge thank-you to stjohn27, the best sounding board and prereader a girl could ask for. :)
Peter meandered down the hall of the high school, dodging through the horde of students all making their way to their lockers or to the various classrooms. He still wasn't quite used to being on the high school side of the school building, where the hallways were a lot wider and a lot noisier and everything was just… bigger, including all of the students. While Peter had finally hit something of a growth spurt shortly after he turned thirteen, complete with the extremely embarrassing and totally random voice-pitch changes that Sam still refused to let him forget, he still was almost the shortest person in his class.
Guess he shouldn't think about trying out for the football team quite yet.
Arriving at his locker, Peter emptied out his backpack, stuffing it inside along with his jacket and pulling out the books he'd need for his first three classes. Since his locker was way down at the end of the hallway, there wasn't enough time between classes to swap out his books.
"Hey, Peter!" Ned called as Peter walked into their algebra classroom, taking his seat one row over. Unlike most of the teachers they'd had in junior high, the high school teachers had so far been arranging the students alphabetically, which unfortunately meant that Flash Thompson was still sitting directly behind Peter Parker Stark. And while Flash had backed off on his bullying somewhat after his dressing down by Steve all those months ago, he still wasn't someone that Peter particularly enjoyed talking to.
"Hey, Ned," Peter called back, flopping down into his chair. "How's it going?"
"Great!" Ned replied, digging into his pocket for his phone. He smiled a huge, cheeky grin as he held up the newest StarkPhone model, the one Stark Industries released about a month before Christmas. "My dad got me this for a late Christmas present. Just gave it to me this weekend. I was up till almost one in the morning getting it set up!"
"Oh wow, that's awesome!" exclaimed Peter. Geeking out about his dad's tech was one of Peter's favorite things to do, and he had to admit that getting the new phones before everyone else was a very nice perk. Dad had gifted him with this model on his fourteenth birthday, over three months before they were released to the public. "I love mine! The camera on it is top of the line, did you see that there's even a bunch of different panoramic settings? And the battery life is almost twice as long as the older model!"
"Oh yeah," Ned said, carefully placing the phone back into his pocket. "My dad still thinks they're too expensive, but I think he got tired of me constantly begging for one, so he finally gave in." Ned leaned in, lowering his voice. "But between you and me, I think he loves it almost as much as I do. The whole weekend after he gave it to me he kept asking to see it so he could fiddle with it. Personally, I give him two weeks before he has one of his own. And then of course my mom'll want one… so yeah. Your dad will've converted my whole family."
"I'll be sure and let him know," Peter said with a chuckle. He patted his own phone, carefully tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. Even with the phone's large amount of storage space, Peter had nearly maxed it out several times taking hundreds of pictures and videos. He'd even set it up to do a time-lapse video when he and Ned had rebuilt the Lego Millenium Falcon over Christmas break. Peter's entire family had all gotten a good laugh over that one.
"Things still quiet there at the Tower?" asked Ned.
"Yeah," Peter answered. "Not too much going on. James is taking his turn up at the Compound this week, and Mr. Barton and the twins were up there this weekend, doing some training with Steve and Natasha. It was pretty fun to watch. Pietro runs so fast that he completely burned through a brand-new pair of running shoes in only two days."
"Whoa," Ned said with wide eyes. "How do you even watch him if he runs that fast?"
"Well… you don't really," said Peter, chuckling. "You kinda have to watch where he's… been. It's kinda weird. And if there's any loose paper around or anything, it'll all wind up scattered all over the place. Mr. Barton told me that they had to start tying the hay bales up extra tight at their farm, otherwise they'd just end up as a scattered mess whenever Pietro's around."
"But your dad's okay with having them up at the Compound now?" Ned asked. "Even if it's just on the weekends?"
Peter shrugged. "Steve was the one who asked, it wasn't Dad's idea. He still gets a bit jumpy around Wanda, so… But he doesn't like to say no to Steve either. Steve thinks the twins should be trained like Avengers because of their abilities, and Dad couldn't really argue with it without looking like a selfish asshole, as he put it, so…"
"Morning, Parker," said Flash as he slid into his chair behind Peter. No matter how many times Peter tried to remind him that his name was Peter Parker Stark, Flash still insisted on calling Peter by his old surname.
"Morning, Flash," Peter mumbled, resting his chin down on his stack of books.
"You gonna be at the decathlon practice this afternoon?" Flash asked.
"Yeah, why?"
"Just wondering. You got your essay written yet?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Nah, not yet. Who'd you write yours on? I hope it wasn't your dad, 'cause I'm pretty sure that'd be against the rules."
"Bruce Banner," Peter answered, rolling his eyes. He understood the rules of the Academic Decathlon just fine, thank you very much. "And before you ask, no. It doesn't cover anything about the Hulk. Bruce is one of the best scientists who's ever lived, so that's what I wrote about." Even if all the lengthy essay managed to do was make Peter miss him even more. The Avengers had only received a few short messages from Bruce and Thor in the two years since they'd been gone, and Peter still missed them both terribly.
Any further conversation was cut short by the arrival of their algebra teacher and the sound of the bell ringing to start the class. There was a test today, which Peter was prepared for, of course. He'd spent most of the previous evening going over the test material with FRIDAY, while Dad was packing for yet another trip down to Washington D.C.
Things had been relatively quiet at both the Tower and the Compound for the last several months. Steve, Sam, and Natasha had gone on a couple of missions, mainly reconnaissance and cleanup stuff like they used to do for SHIELD. Steve and Natasha had also done some traveling overseas, following up on leads in the search for Bucky Barnes that turned out to be dead ends for the most part. And aside from one weird break-in at the Compound by some dude who could shrink down to the size of a bug, using tech that Dad thought was obsolete but still managed to wreck the hell out of Sam's Falcon pack, there hadn't really been too much else that had happened recently. And Dad had been so freaked out that someone had actually managed to break into the Compound, it was probably a good thing that there hadn't been much else that had happened recently. He'd even stationed Vision there permanently after it happened, just for extra security. Since Vision didn't really need to eat or sleep, he made the perfect security guard.
So of course, that meant Dad would get another call about proposed legislation that would require the Avengers to fall under the jurisdiction of the government almost as soon as the new administration had finished decorating their offices.
Despite many of their best efforts to woo him, Dad had refused to offer any of the presidential candidates his support during the last elections, saying if they couldn't offer the Avengers exemption from anything resembling registration, then he wanted no part of their association. Peter remembered all too well the very long and very late nights that Dad and Steve spent discussing the situation, with Steve warning Dad about the dangers of excessive government control and Dad trying to placate Steve by saying that the United States, even with all of its flaws, was nowhere near the state of Nazi Germany that Steve saw during World War II.
But Peter knew it still worried Dad, especially since the new President, who was just inaugurated only a couple of weeks ago, decided to name former General Thaddeus Ross as his Secretary of State. Peter didn't know very many details about this Ross person, but what he did know was more than a bit scary, especially since he was one of the people directly involved in the accident that caused Bruce to turn into the Hulk all those years ago.
The fact that his dad absolutely hated Ross only added to Peter's concern. Ever since the election back in November, Dad had been getting more and more stressed about the whole government thing, even as he tried to put on a brave face for Steve and the rest of the Avengers. But learning about Ross was the real kicker. Peter even saw Dad pull out his bottle of Scotch a couple of times that night, something Peter had only seen him do on very rare occasions.
The only good thing to have come out of all this stuff with the government was the fact that even though they finished the BARF tech prototype a few months ago, Dad had been too stressed out about other things to remind Peter to use it. And Peter was in absolutely no hurry to use it.
"Did you remember to get your dad to sign your permission slip before he left this morning?" Ned asked as they arrived in their chemistry classroom. "The field trip is tomorrow."
"Oh, crap!" Peter exclaimed, slapping his forehead with his palm. "No! He was grumbling so much about the fact that we're visiting Columbia instead of MIT that we both kinda forgot about it!"
"But, Peter… MIT is in Massachusetts," Ned said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "That'd be kinda far for a school field trip. Columbia is just a few miles away."
"Yeah, I know," said Peter. "But he doesn't care about that stuff. He'd still rather we visited MIT over anyplace else."
"But dude, the slips are due today," whined Ned. "And you hafta come, Peter! It's the Columbia school of Engineering! Regardless of what your dad says, Colombia has some of the best science labs in the country!"
"Yeah, I know! Just don't ever say that in front of my father, all right?" Peter hissed as he fished his phone from his pocket. Rummaging through his chemistry notebook, Peter located the crumpled permission slip stuffed inside the front cover and smoothed it out on the table, taking a picture of it with his phone.
"Forgot to have you sign this before you left," he texted to Dad. "Please?"
Peter bounced on his feet impatiently as he waited for Dad to read the text. He'd always told Peter to never hesitate to contact him if Peter needed anything while he was gone, even if he was in top-secret meetings with government officials. Peter knew Dad was just being a responsible parent, but he also knew Dad secretly enjoyed the hell out of making the government people wait for him while he finished his personal business.
"Just so long as you guys go up to MIT next year, buddy," came the reply about thirty seconds later, complete with a scanned copy of the signed permission slip. "I'll pay for the class to stay overnight if that helps. And Steve and I can even chaperone."
Smiling, Peter showed the picture to Ned. "Got it. Looks like we're good."
"Awesome," replied Ned. "I can't wait!"
Despite his father's misgivings, Peter had to admit the campus at Columbia University was beautiful. As he, Ned, and the rest of their class trudged along the sidewalks through the freshly fallen snow, huddled against the biting, late January wind, Peter couldn't help but be enthralled by the stately cream and brown buildings topped with seafoam roofs, partially hidden by the snow. He remembered driving past the campus a few times with Uncle Ben and Aunt May when he was little, but he'd never gotten more than a cursory glance. Ben and May hadn't ever ventured out into Manhattan all that much.
"Whoa," Ned gasped as the class arrived inside one of the undergraduate chemistry labs, marveling at all the equipment and materials. "This is so cool! And this is just for the undergrads!"
"Yeah," agreed Peter, his eyes wide as he tried to take it all in. He raised his phone, quickly snapping pictures of the various complicated setups for running chemical reactions. Dad had promised him that once he started high school he would upgrade the labs at the Tower and Compound to include some more chemistry equipment, and Peter was planning to hold him to that promise. He'd already written out a short wishlist, and he had a big feeling that wishlist was going to get a lot longer after this trip.
As their teacher herded the class over to one of the counters, one of the chemistry professors started going over the reaction currently being run by one of her students. Pocketing his phone, Peter pulled a small notebook from his backpack and began writing down everything he heard the professor mention that was being used in the reaction, which had something to do with creating heavy water.
"You know they use heavy water in nuclear reactors?" Peter whispered to Ned. "And here there's a college sophomore just making it!"
"Yeah," Ned whispered back. "But it's been around since World War II. I guess it's not considered all that groundbreaking anymore."
"It's still pretty cool through," Peter said.
"Yeah, I guess," replied Ned. "Personally, I'd rather work on the actual reactors. Now those are cool!"
Yeek, Peter thought. He really had no interest in doing anything with nuclear anythings, at least for now. Chemistry reactions were a lot more interesting to him than trying to blow something up just enough to harness the energy from the explosion, but not have it blow up enough to kill you.
Peter was still bent over his notebook, hastily writing notes when he suddenly felt something light brush across the back of his neck. Shivering, Peter brought his hand back, scratching the skin below his hairline. He hadn't gotten a haircut in over two months, so his hair was a bit longer than he usually wore it. That was probably what he felt.
But a few minutes later he felt it again and jumped, nearly dropping his notebook in his haste to swat the squicky feeling away, earning a concerned glance from Ned.
"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Ned asked. "You're being all twitchy."
"Sorry," Peter mumbled. He could feel his face turning red. "My hair's gotten too long. It keeps tickling the back of my neck."
"Mmm," Ned said, a rather wicked grin stretching across his face. "I could always cut it for ya. I'm sure there's a spare Bunsen burner around here somewhere."
"No, thanks, crazy man," Peter said quickly, trying to smile. "Don't think Pepper would like that too much. She only lets one person cut my hair; she's kinda picky about that stuff."
"Dude, when's your dad gonna propose to her, anyway?" asked Ned. "I mean, they've been together now for how long?"
"I dunno," Peter answered. "Soon, I hope. He's had the ring forever already. I think he's just scared for some reason."
"Yeah, I can understand that. Pepper's a real sweet lady, but she's pretty badass, if you know what I mean."
"Shh!" one of their classmates hissed from next to Ned.
Biting his lip, Peter scratched at the back of his neck one more time before resuming his note-taking, once again becoming engrossed in the professor's presentation. The group was just about ready to move on to another lab when Peter felt the strange tickly sensation again, only this time followed directly on its heels by a sharp stab of pain, as if he'd been poked with a burning hot needle.
"Ow!" Peter yelped as his hand immediately flew back to cover his neck, his face flushing red as the entire class paused whatever they were doing to look over at him.
"You okay there, Peter?" asked the teacher.
"Uhh, yeah, sorry," Peter mumbled, pressing his fingers gingerly over the painful spot and trying to ignore Ned's questioning look. "Just… um… wrenched my neck."
The teacher nodded, giving Peter a small smile as she began herding the students over towards the door. "All right class, we're heading to the lab one door down and then we'll be breaking for lunch."
Inhaling a deep breath, Peter pressed the sore spot on his neck one more time as the students started shuffling towards the door. He quickly scanned the ceiling, then the floor, searching for anything that could explain the sharp pain that he'd felt.
"C'mon, Peter!" Ned said, tugging on his arm. "We're heading to one of the physics labs now!"
"Yeah, I'm coming!" Peter said, walking sideways as he continued to scan the floor. He'd just about reached the door when his eyes caught sight of something small and dark, skittering across the polished linoleum floor as if it were being chased. Peter let out a hard shudder, his stomach dropping to his knees as he realized what it was.
It was a spider.
And Peter absolutely hated spiders.
"Dude, are you feeling okay?" Ned asked as he slid onto the bench seat of the schoolbus next to Peter. "You're looking a little paler than usual."
"Yeah, I'm fine," Peter mumbled. "Just tired." He tilted his head back, resting it on the back of the seat and closing his eyes. Truth be told, he wasn't feeling good at all. His neck was still stinging and throbbing from the bite, and he was shivering, as if the temperature had dropped thirty degrees over the course of the field trip. He also felt dizzy, and his stomach hadn't stopped churning since he'd seen that spider scampering across the lab floor. Whether or not it was because of the spider bite or because he'd hardly been able to eat anything at lunch, Peter didn't know for sure. All he knew right then was that he wanted nothing more than to go home, crawl into his bed, and bury himself under the covers for the next week.
"Good afternoon, Young Peter," FRIDAY said as Peter stepped off the elevator and into the Tower apartment. "How was your field trip?"
"Ah, it was okay, FRIDAY," Peter answered, dropping his backpack onto the couch so he could take off his jacket. He usually pulled his shoes off as he walked/ hopped towards his room, but he was still feeling so dizzy that he sat down on the couch to take them off, leaning back and closing his eyes once he was done.
"Are you feeling all right, Young Peter?" FRIDAY asked a couple minutes later. "Would you like me to contact Miss Potts or Mr. Wilson?"
"No!" Peter yelped, sitting up so abruptly that his vision went spotty for a few seconds. "No, FRIDAY, I'm okay. Just… tired. I think I'll just go to bed early."
"Surely you must be hungry after your school day?" asked FRIDAY. "And you know your father wouldn't like you skipping any meals."
Peter shook his head, pushing himself up off the couch and stumbling towards his room. "I'll just take a quick nap, then I'll eat something. Okay?" He glanced at the clock, noting that Pepper wasn't due home for another two hours at least. Happy had picked Peter up from school, but he'd taken off for the Compound to retrieve James as soon as he'd dropped Peter off at the Tower. Apparently Dad needed James down in D.C., so he was scheduled to head down there tomorrow. And Steve and Natasha had left yesterday evening to follow up on yet another Bucky lead, so it was only he and Sam in the Tower at the moment.
"Very well, Young Peter," FRIDAY said. "Would you like me to turn on the rain sounds?"
"Yes, please," Peter answered, face planting onto the bed and curling his arms around George. He buried his nose into the polar bear's neck, inhaling and breathing out a deep breath. George's fur wasn't as soft as it used to be, but he was still smooshy and cuddly, and Peter was asleep only a few seconds later.
"Peter!" called the voice of Sam Wilson, followed by a knock on the door that was so loud it caused Peter to bolt upright on the bed, nearly hitting his head on the headboard. "Peter, are you okay?"
"Yeah?" Peter called back, wincing at how loud his own voice sounded to his ears. He swallowed hard, running his tongue along his dry lips. Through the windows in his room he could see that night had fallen. How long had he been asleep?
"Yeah?" he called again, a bit quieter this time. "I'm awake."
"I got some dinner ready," Sam said as he opened the door, whose hinges seemed to squeak with every millimeter of movement. "Pepper called me, said she was gonna be late tonight, something about a last-minute conference call from India. You hungry?"
Despite the fact that Peter hadn't really eaten anything since breakfast that morning, he still wasn't all that hungry. But he also didn't feel like drawing any further unwanted attention, and he knew if he refused a meal, Sam would immediately tell his dad.
"Yeah," Peter said, blinking. His eyes always got dry whenever he slept in his contacts. "Just… give me a minute."
"Okay," Sam said warily, his eyes narrowing as he looked Peter up and down. "You sure you're okay? You're shivering like you're trying to wiggle outta your skin!"
"Uh… yeah, I'm sure," Peter stammered. "It was cold out today, and the chem labs were cold too. I guess I still haven't gotten warmed up."
"Mmm, if you're sure. Come and eat while it's hot, then. Warm you up some."
"Sure," Peter said, relieved when Sam walked away. Sam wasn't usually a very loud guy, and Peter had never heard him raise his voice indoors, but somehow tonight every word out of his mouth sounded like he was shouting through a megaphone.
Pushing himself up from the bed, Peter shuffled over to his bathroom and flipped on the light switch, immediately slamming his eyelids closed at the nearly blinding flash of light that followed. Peter slapped one hand over his eyes, his other hand scrabbling at the wall, trying to flip the switch back off. He dropped to the floor, his breaths coming out in quick gasps as he slowly blinked his eyes open again, shocked to discover that he could see just fine in the near complete darkness of the bathroom.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" Peter muttered under his breath. He shook his head, trying to clear it as he stood back up, turning on the faucet so he could splash some water on his face, even as he tried to ignore the fact that the water splashing down into the sink reminded him of the waves crashing against the rocks back in Malibu. He peeled the contacts from his eyes, dropping them into the trash can, wincing as he literally heard the tiny pieces of moldable plastic hitting the bottom of the bin as he slid on his glasses.
"You sure you're okay there, kid? You look kinda peaked," Sam said once Peter finally stumbled into the kitchen. Sam had apparently cooked up one of his favorite gumbo recipes, and while Peter usually loved Sam's gumbo, tonight the smell was so strong it was nearly overwhelming.
"Yeah, I'm sure," Peter answered. He hated lying to Sam; he hated lying to anyone for that matter. But he knew if he told anyone the truth that they would turn right around and call his father, and Dad had too many other things to worry about right now than a stupid spider bite. "Just… it was a really long day today, and I'm tired."
"Yeah, all right," answered Sam, shooting Peter a rather suspicious look over his glass of iced tea. "If you're sure. You got any homework tonight? Not that I'd probably be able to help you with any of it, but I'm still s'posed to ask."
"No," Peter whispered, squeezing his eyes closed, wishing that Sam would stop shouting at him. "We were at Columbia for most of the day, so… no homework."
"Mmmhmm. All right then," Sam said. "Just, finish up your dinner, yeah? So Pepper doesn't think that I tried to starve you?"
Forcing a smile, Peter nodded as he dug into the gumbo, cringing at the scraping noise the spoon made across the plate. To his relief, he did start to feel a bit better as he continued to eat, as long as he was able to ignore the fact that he could hear Sam chewing his food as loudly as if he were eating a bag of ice cubes.
"There," Sam said once Peter had cleaned his plate. "Feeling better?"
"Yeah," Peter answered, smacking his lips. "Loads, thank you."
Sam grinned. "Yeah, that's one of my Nana's recipes. She always swore her gumbo could cure anything that ailed anybody, and damn, if she wasn't right about that."
"Mr. Stark is on the line for Young Peter," cut in FRIDAY, sending Peter's heart into his throat. "Shall I send the call in to his room?"
"Uhh," Peter stammered, looking over at the dishes piled up in the sink.
"Go on, Peter," Sam said graciously. "Go on and talk to your dad. It'll help you feel better."
"Thank you," Peter whispered. "I can come back and help clean up afterwards if you want—"
"Nah, don't worry about it," Sam said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Go on now. You know Iron Man doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"Hey buddy!" Dad exclaimed, his voice booming from Peter's television monitor as soon as Peter stepped into the room. "How was the field trip?"
"It was good," Peter answered, fighting the urge to cover his ears. Why was every single thing so damn loud all of a sudden? He grabbed his hoodie from the chair in the corner and pulled it on, wrapping his arms around his front. He was starting to shiver again. "Columbia is a nice place. Their chemistry lab was stocked."
"Mmm," Dad said with a wink. "You make a shopping list yet?"
Peter grinned. His father knew him all too well. "Yeah, you know it. They had some pretty nice stuff in there, Dad."
"Yeah, well, I'm sure the chem labs at MIT are just as nice," Dad grumbled. "But you'll get to see those soon enough if I have anything to say about it. Which I do, by the way."
"Yeah, I'm sure. How's D.C.?"
Dad's face fell and he let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. From the background on the monitor, Peter could see that Dad was at least in the D.C. apartment for the night, which hopefully meant that his meetings were over for the day, but still. He looked absolutely exhausted, and Peter knew he wasn't sleeping all that well. He never did when he was this stressed out.
"Ah, you know, Pete," he said. "Same old shit, different day. These people… I don't know. But don't worry. Rhodey and I have been in sticky situations like this before, back when the government tried to commandeer my tech. We'll get it figured out."
"I know," Peter said, biting his lip to keep his teeth from chattering. Were the environmental controls not working properly or something? Why was he so cold?
"You okay, Pete?" asked Dad, his eyebrows knitting together. "You look… off. Not your normal perky self. Sam didn't let you just eat ice cream for dinner, did he?"
"Just… cold," Peter said, running his palms up and down his arms. "It's really cold here today, Dad."
"Well, that's January in New York for ya," replied Dad. "Have FRIDAY turn the temp up a bit if you need to, okay? Don't want you shivering all night, and it's supposed to be even colder tomorrow."
"I will," Peter whimpered, blinking back the tears that sprang to his eyes. He hated feeling lousy, even more so when Dad wasn't home. "When are you coming back?"
"Saturday morning at the latest, bud," Dad said. "Because nothing short of the threat of global destruction can make these government goons want to work on a weekend. But don't you hesitate to call me if you need anything. And I mean, anything. You got it? No matter what's going on down here, you're still my first priority."
"Yeah, I got it," Peter whispered. "Love you, Dad."
"I love you too, bud. I'll see you soon."
"Good morning, Young Peter," FRIDAY said over the sound of the falling rain that Peter had to ask her to turn down at least three times during the night. "How are you feeling today?"
Peter groaned, rolling over into his stomach, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck. He winced as his fingertips found the bite mark, which had swelled up to the size of a marble overnight and was very painful to the touch.
"Um…" Peter stammered as he tried to sit up, grabbing the headboard when his head started to spin. "Um…"
"Are you ill, Young Peter?" asked FRIDAY. "Would you like me to call Miss Potts or Mr. Wilson?"
"No!" Peter yelped, covering his ears with his palms. "No FRIDAY, please! I'm okay! I think I just… need a shower."
"If you're sure," said FRIDAY, sounding skeptical. "Then I must remind you, Miss Potts and Mr. Hogan will be departing for the school in exactly twenty-seven minutes. Miss Potts will be departing for India on business once they drop you off at school, and Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are returning early this afternoon."
"Yeah, okay," muttered Peter. He lurched forward, stumbling into the bathroom and turning on the shower as hot as it would go, the tile floor as cold as a block of ice beneath his bare feet.
The hot shower did help, but as soon as Peter stepped out and started drying off he was shivering again, so hard that he could barely fasten the zippers and buttons on his clothes. Slipping on his shoes, he pulled on the laces to start tying them, just like he always did, and was astonished when one of the laces ripped right off, almost like it had been cut in half.
What the hell? he thought, holding the broken shoelace in his hand for a moment before tossing it into the trash bin. Shoelace must've gotten worn out.
Stepping over to the mirror, Peter began rummaging around in his drawer for his contact lenses, and was just about to tell FRIDAY to remind him to order some more when he blinked, checking out his reflection in the mirror. In the past, Peter had always had to lean in very closely to see a clear reflection. He hadn't even noticed it until now, but for some reason this morning he could see just fine. In fact, he couldn't remember ever being able to see this clearly, even before he started wearing glasses.
Okay, so that's not so bad, he thought as he shoved the contacts box back into the drawer. I can deal with that.
After practically inhaling three pieces of toast for breakfast, hoping they would help keep him warmer than his usual cereal and orange juice, Peter wandered down to the garage, finding Pepper and Happy already waiting in the car.
"Did FRIDAY tell you that I got called out to India?" Pepper asked, looking up from the tablet in her lap as Peter slid into the backseat next to her. "I'm sorry it's such short notice, but—"
"Yeah," Peter said, trying to smile. Pepper's voice, usually very calm and soothing, this morning sounded like the shrill squeak of a mongoose to Peter's ears. "It's okay, Pepper. FRIDAY said Steve and Natasha will be home later, so I'll be okay."
Pepper smiled, reaching her hand behind Peter's neck to rub the back of his head. Peter flinched as her fingers barely brushed over the spider bite, hoping she didn't notice the huge lump there, hidden underneath the collar of his shirt. "You're such a good kid, Peter. None of us deserve you."
"Thanks," whispered Peter as Happy started the car. Peter leaned back in his seat, still enjoying the fact that he could see clearly for the first time in years when Happy pulled out of the Tower garage and onto the sun-drenched street. Almost immediately Peter jerked his head back, his eyes slamming closed against the brightness of what seemed like a thousand stars all aimed directly at his face.
"Um… you got any extra sunglasses up there, Happy?" Peter asked through clenched teeth. "It's kinda bright out today."
"About damn time too," Happy said, tossing a pair of black sunglasses onto Peter's lap. "I was getting so tired of the winter overcast."
"Yeah," answered Peter, sliding the glasses onto his face and blinking his eyes back open. The dark glasses did help with the intense brightness, but everything still seemed… off. Peter's peripheral vision was going completely haywire, like he was trying to process the entire surface area of thirty IMAX movie screens all at the same time. He couldn't quite place where he was supposed to be looking at any given second, and it was already starting to give him a headache.
"Are you all right, Peter," Pepper asked as Peter ducked his head down, trying to block out some of the overwhelming images. "You seem… stressed."
"Yeah," answered Peter, trying to keep his breathing steady even as his teeth started to chatter. "Just a bit tired, is all. Didn't sleep that well."
Pepper gave him a sympathetic look. "Well, I'd like to tell you that I know how to fix that, but I don't. Just try not to stay up too late, okay?"
"I know," Peter said as they drove into the school's parking lot. "I won't. Have fun in India."
"I will," Pepper said, pulling him into a brief hug. "Have a good day at school."
"Thanks."
"And don't lose my sunglasses!" Happy called as Peter exited the car to a blast of freezing air. Peter tried to smile in return, but it probably came out as more of a grimace as he hurried into the school, his arms wrapped tightly around his front to try and stay warm.
Peter kept his head ducked down as he walked down the crowded hallway, trying to avoid making any eye contact with anyone. The sheer number of students, all talking and laughing amongst themselves, was nearly overwhelming Peter's senses, and Peter knew he wouldn't be able to keep the sunglasses on once he got to class.
Arriving at his locker, Peter dialed the combination and positioned his backpack so he could empty it out. But as he yanked on the zipper tab to unzip the main pocket, the entire zipper ripped down the seam, leaving a gaping hole at the top and sides. Peter let out a small yelp, the backpack dropping from his shaking hands and onto the floor with such a loud thud that it caused him to jump and slam his head right against the open door of his locker.
Ow! That freaking hurt!
His eyes brimming with tears, Peter picked up the ruined backpack, pulling the books out and shoving it inside his locker along with his jacket. Since students weren't allowed to wear jackets in the classrooms Peter couldn't keep his jacket on, but he had dressed in a couple of extra layers this morning in order to try and help himself stay warm. As carefully as he was able, Peter pulled out the books he needed for the morning and pushed the locker door closed with his palm, alarmed when he drew back his hand and saw the dent left behind.
What the hell…?
"Hey, Peter!" Ned exclaimed as Peter shuffled into the classroom.
"Hey, Ned," replied Peter, trying to keep his voice down. His head was still throbbing from where he'd banged it, and Ned's booming voice wasn't helping at all.
"You feeling any better?" asked Ned, his round face falling as he looked Peter over. "You look like crap, dude. What's going on?"
"Dunno," Peter answered, resting his chin on his book pile. "But I'm starting to think maybe I should've stayed home today. Still not feeling so great."
"Mmm, well, then stay away from me," Ned said, leaning far back in his chair. "Don't wanna catch anything from you."
"What, you sick, Parker?" Flash said as he entered the classroom, plopping himself down at his desk behind Peter. "If you're sick, then what the hell are you doing here?"
"I'm not sick, Flash," Peter shot back. "Just really tired."
"Well, you better rest up before practice this afternoon. Liz says we're working on the lightning round questions today, and we all know how you like to impress her."
"I'll be fine," grumbled Peter. "Now leave me alone."
"Leave me alone," repeated Flash in a sing-songy voice. "Boy wonder wants to be left—"
Flash's voice was cut off by the bell ringing to signal the start of class, which came on so suddenly and was so loud and shrill that Peter nearly dove under his desk in his attempt to cover his ears.
"Dude!" Ned hissed as their teacher walked in. "What the hell's wrong with you?"
"Just got a bit of a headache," Peter whispered. "It's nothing."
Ned shot him a wary look. "Well, that's not what you looked like just now. You were acting like you thought the bell was gonna eat you or something."
Peter shook his head, dropping his gaze down as the teacher began talking about calculating slopes and intercepts. Peter tried to listen—he really did, as he found algebra quite interesting—but all he could seem to focus on during the entire class was the squeak of the teacher's marker against the whiteboard, the scraping noise of his pencil against the paper of his notebook, and the ticking of the clock on the wall, right above the door.
Since he was aware of the clock, Peter was able to brace himself in time for the bell that signaled the end of the class, and thankfully was able to get through his next two classes and the lunch period relatively unscathed, even as it took almost every ounce of his strength to ignore the dozens of conversations going on around him and focus only on whatever Ned was rattling on about.
But as he and Ned stepped into their physics classroom, everything started going downhill. The effort of trying to block out the constant, overwhelming sensory stimulation was exhausting Peter, to the point that even walking down the hallway was proving to be difficult. The physics classroom was also in an older section of the school building, and so was much colder than the rest of Peter's classes. Already shivering from the walk down the hallway, Peter's teeth started chattering so violently about five minutes into the teacher's lecture that he was afraid they were going to break and fall right out of his head. Gripping his pen with both hands, Peter squeezed his eyes closed, trying to calm himself down when suddenly the pen snapped right in half, sending droplets of dark blue ink splattering all over his schoolbooks and the top of the desk.
"Mr. Stark?" the teacher said, looking at Peter with concern. "Are you all right?"
"Uhh…" Peter stammered, too stunned at the blotches of ink staining his books to even think straight. All of it; the torn backpack, the dented locker, the shrill noises, the loud voices, the IMAX vision, it was all just too much. Peter felt himself swaying in his seat, and he gripped the edge of the desk, trying to keep himself from falling over.
"I'm… um… not feeling so good," Peter mumbled, pushing himself up to his feet and stumbling awkwardly towards the door. "I need… I need to get to the bathroom."
If the restroom hadn't been only two doors down from the classroom, Peter would've never made it. As it was, he barely was able push the door open and step inside before he collapsed onto the floor in a heap, wrapping his arms around himself in a futile effort to try and warm up. If he was smart he would've tried to make it to his locker first to grab his jacket, but now there was no way. He couldn't even seem to make his legs move to sit back up, much less make it down two hallways to his locker. With a shaking hand and the last ounce of strength he could muster, Peter reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone.
"FRIDAY," he grunted between shivers so violent that he felt like he was convulsing. "What's happening to me?"
"I've already contacted Captain Rogers, Young Peter," FRIDAY replied in a soft voice. "Stand by, he's on his way."
Peter wasn't sure how long he was lying there, curled into a tight ball on the freezing bathroom floor, his heart thudding so hard it was as if it was trying to burst out of his chest. It wasn't until Peter felt a pair of strong arms circle around him, pulling him against a broad chest that his rigid, frozen body began to relax.
"It's okay, Peter," said the soothing voice of Steve Rogers, so softly that Peter was surprised he could even hear it. "You're gonna be all right."
"C—, cold," stuttered Peter. "S—, so, cold, and l—, loud, and I ri—, ripped my shoelace, and bent my l—, locker door, and I br—, broke a pen in half and the ink went everywhere, and—"
"Shh…" Steve said in that same soft voice, patting Peter's back. Steve hooked his arm under Peter's knees, lifting him up as easily as if he were still three years old. "I'm here to take you home, Peter. Tony's already on his way back from D.C.; he should be here in about an hour. You're gonna be okay."
"No, no, no," Peter whimpered, even as his head dropped against Steve's chest. "Don't tell my dad. Please…"
"Too late, Peter," said Steve as they exited the bathroom. Peter had never been more grateful for Principal Morita; the hallway that led to the parking lot was completely clear of students and teachers. "FRIDAY alerted him at the same time as me, as soon as you ran out of your classroom."
Happy was waiting in the parking lot, the car heater going full-blast as Steve and Peter slid into the backseat. Steve kept his arm around Peter's shoulders the whole way home, and Peter snuggled as closely as his seatbelt would allow, grateful for the extra warmth.
As soon as they arrived in the Tower apartment, Steve set Peter down on the couch, returning a couple minutes later with three warm blankets that he wrapped around Peter like a burrito.
"There," Steve said, careful to keep his voice low. "That better?"
"Yeah," answered Peter, warmth seeping into his bones for the first time since he was bit. "Loads."
"Do you wanna talk about what happened?" asked Steve a few moments later. "And why you tried to hide it?"
Tears of shame stung Peter's eyes, and he shook his head. "No. Not really."
"Well, that answer may work with me, but I highly doubt that it'll fly too far with Tony. So, you might wanna rethink that before he gets home."
"Steve," Peter croaked as the tears started to spill over. "He's gonna be so mad at me!"
"Oh God, Peter," Steve murmured, wrapping Peter in his arms. "Why would you think that?"
"'Cause dealing with this… with me, is the last thing he needs to be worried about right now," Peter cried, cringing at the shrill sound of his own voice. "Not with all the government stuff going on, trying to keep you guys safe!"
"And you know you're far more important to him than any of that," Steve said firmly. "You're more important to all of us, Peter. There should be no question in your mind about it."
"There isn't," answered Peter, sniffing. He rubbed his cheeks across the blanket, clearing the tears away. "It's just… really, really not a good time for me to be sick."
"Mr. Stark has landed at the Tower," announced FRIDAY.
"Thank you, FRIDAY," Steve said, just as Dad came bursting into the living room from the direction of the lab. Steve stood up from the couch, letting Dad take his place next to Peter.
"Pete," he said, his voice thick and low as he pulled Peter close, careful to avoid touching the back of his neck. "It's okay, buddy. Tell me everything."
"Daddy," whimpered Peter. "I'm so sorry. I never—"
"Peter, stop," Dad said firmly. He cupped Peter's cheeks, forcing him to look at him. "I am in no way mad at you, so just get that outta your curly head right this second. Just… tell us what happened."
Peter inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he explained the circumstances that led up to the spider bite. Both Dad and Steve listened closely, exchanging loaded looks every few minutes.
"Okay," Dad said once Peter was finished. He squeezed his eyes closed, rubbing at his temples. "Tell me again what they were mixing up in this chem lab?"
"Uhh, heavy water," answered Peter. "But why does that matter? It's not that dangerous to humans."
"No, but it might've been enough to mess with the genes of a spider, just enough to…" Dad muttered, his voice trailing off. He shot Steve a hard look, even as he tightened his arms around Peter. "Tell me again what's been happening, Pete."
"Um… everything's loud. Like every single sound has been put through a thousand amplifiers. People talking in normal voices sound like they're shouting. The school bell ringing sounded like it was right inside my head. Even the sound of my pencil against the paper was too much. And I broke—, I ripped my shoelace, and my backpack, and I dented my locker when I pushed it closed. And the sun was too bright and my eyes are weird, like I'm seeing everything through panoramic camera lenses all stacked on top of each other." Peter shuddered, dropping his head down against Dad's chest. "It was all just too much. Just too much… input."
Dad was quiet for a long time, with only the sound of his heartbeat filling Peter's ears. Finally, Peter raised his head, alarmed at the intense guilt clouding his father's face, the very same guilt he wore right after Ultron first gained sentience and attacked the Avengers.
"Daddy?" Peter whimpered. "What's gonna happen to me?"
"I don't know, Peter," Dad finally said. He threaded his fingers into Peter's hair, kissing the top of his head. "But whatever it is, whatever ends up happening, no matter how this all plays out, we'll deal with it together."
"How's he doing?" Steve asked as Tony tiptoed out of Peter's bedroom, closing the door as quietly as he could so as to not reawaken him. Tony had already botched the exit twice tonight, not realizing just how enhanced Peter's hearing had already become in such a short time.
Pressing a finger to his lips, Tony jerked his head towards the lab, leading Steve there so they could speak in somewhat normal voices.
"He's asleep, at least for now," Tony said with a heavy sigh as he dropped down onto the lab's couch, kneading his temples with his knuckles. "Had to cover him with three blankets and adjust the temp in his room up to eighty to get him to stop shivering though."
"Is that from the bite?" asked Steve as he sat down on the opposite end, crossing his long legs. "The shivering?"
"Yeah," Tony answered, his shoulders sagging. "Spiders can't thermoregulate, so his body keeps trying to bring his temp down to the surrounding environment, and since it's colder than fucking Siberia here right now—" Tony paused, pressing his fist to his chest, trying to keep his breathing steady. I should've seen this coming, damn it! "And since his cells are still trying to adjust to the influx of new DNA, his body chemistry's all out of whack. Everything he's experiencing: the enhanced sight, hearing, strength, lack of body temp control, that's all from the bite."
"This isn't your fault, Tony," Steve said firmly, a stern look on his face. "You can't possibly think that."
"If it's not mine, then whose fault is it, Rogers?" Tony snapped. That horrible crushing feeling in his chest was back and he gasped, trying to take a deep breath but only managing to choke. "I'm his father, and he's my son. I should've been here, I should've… done something! Fury warned me that Pete's DNA was altered already, I should've—"
"And blaming yourself won't help Peter at all," Steve interrupted. "There's no way anyone could've known that this would happen. No one could've possibly known that that spider would be there at the same time as Peter, and that it would bite Peter instead of one of the other students. This was just a freak accident, Tony. Nothing more."
Tony scoffed, his head dropping back against the couch. On the counter a few feet away sat the results of the quick DNA scan he'd completed on Peter earlier that evening, once they'd gotten him calmed down a bit. The scan that showed his DNA was now becoming integrated with the DNA of the spider that bit him. It had taken almost thirty minutes for Tony to convince Peter to allow him to run the test due to Peter's intense needle aversion, and even once Peter had consented, he still required Steve's strong hand to help hold his shaking arm steady. Peter's newfound strength was already too much for Tony to handle without the aid of his Iron Man suit, and he had a feeling it was only going to increase as Peter's body continued to adapt.
"Is there any danger from the bite itself?" asked Steve. "That lump on his neck looked pretty sore this afternoon when I saw it."
"By the time I got him to sleep the lump had already started to go down a bit," Tony said quietly. "The puncture mark from the blood test was almost gone too. I think as he adapts, he's gonna heal a lot faster."
"So, we just gotta make sure he stays warm enough?" Steve asked. "Is that the main concern right now?"
"That, and getting him used to all the input," Tony answered. "The sights and the sounds, that'll get better over time, but his senses are still gonna be enhanced, and that's gonna be a lot to process for a kid his age. He's gonna need help. I've already told Rhodey that I won't be back to D.C. for awhile, so he's gonna try and convince the freak squad down there to table their discussion until I feel like it's safe to leave Pete again."
"You know I'll help however I can, Tony," Steve said, clapping a hand on Tony's shoulder. "You just tell me what you need."
Tony nodded, scrubbing at his exhausted eyes. "Yeah. Thanks, Cap."
As it turned out, it didn't really take all that long. After a few more broken shoelaces and a couple of torn hoodie zippers, Peter learned how to adjust to his newfound strength, aided by a few arm-wrestling sessions with Steve. The only major challenges came on a couple of dicey nights where Peter's nightmares flared up, requiring Tony to summon his arm gauntlets in order to help subdue him. He was no longer any match for Peter strength-wise without the help of his armor.
Peter's metabolism, already through the roof simply because of the fact that he was a teenage boy increased even more, and he now could match Steve in his ability to chow down at mealtimes. The hearing and sight enhancements were tempered a bit by some special earplugs and a pair of glasses that Tony made for him, both of which helped Peter control the amount of input he experienced at any given time.
By the time Peter said that he was ready to attempt to return to school, Tony was cautiously optimistic that Peter would be able to handle himself okay.
And he did okay. The glasses and earplugs, both used whenever Peter was feeling overwhelmed during the day, were able to help him keep his sensory input under control, and as long as he was layered in enough clothing to help him stay warm, none of the other students were any the wiser that Peter was different now.
Which was fine. Both Tony and Peter had agreed that they would keep his condition a secret, known only to their Avengers family. Peter because he was a kid just trying to fit in with the rest of his peers, and Tony because while Rhodey had been able to convince the government goons to table the whole jurisdiction discussion during Tony's absence, the threat of Avenger registration was still out there. And there was absolutely no way in hell that Tony was going to allow the government to have any control over his son.
"Incoming call from Captain Rogers, boss," FRIDAY said. "High priority."
"Yeah, FRIDAY, put him through," answered Tony, setting down the replacement pair of glasses he was making for Peter. Tony should've known that only having one pair of glasses was never going to work with his kid. Peter may have gotten a bit older, but he still had a tendency to misplace anything that wasn't physically attached to him. Tony had lost count of how many times he'd had to run the glasses up to the school, or go and fetch them from the school so Peter could have them at home.
"Tony!" Steve said, gasping for breath. His pale face and hair were covered in soot, but there was no blood or other outward signs of injury. From what Tony could see, it looked like Cap had just been through a battle of some kind. "There's been… an incident."
"You guys all okay?" Tony quickly asked. "You, Sam, Natasha?"
"Yeah, we're all good," Steve assured him. "But—"
"Just tell me what happened, Cap. We can fix it."
Steve shook his head, still panting for breath, his blue eyes filled with guilt and sorrow. "Tony, it was my fault. Rumlow, the STRIKE team member that turned out to be a part of HYDRA? He was here in Lagos, trying to steal a bioweapon from an Infectious Disease institute. We managed to stop him, but then—". Steve broke off, dropping his chin to his chest. "Rumlow started taunting me… about Bucky. Saying Bucky knew who I was when we were fighting at the Triskelion. And then… he detonated a vest bomb, Tony. Right there in the Square, surrounded by civilians. I managed to block some of the blast with my shield, but…"
Oh, shit. "How many people did he get, Cap?"
"Dozens, Tony," Steve said, letting out a heavy sigh. "And some of them were from Wakanda. They had people here doing some humanitarian work, and—"
"Goddammit," Tony mumbled under his breath. He'd heard in recent months that Wakanda was becoming a bit less reclusive, and he had a bad feeling that losing some of their people like this was not going to go over well with their king. "Um…, so I can get the Stark Relief Foundation out there ASAP, but what comes after that?"
"We probably won't know until the Wakandan king shows up," Steve answered. "He's scheduled to get here tomorrow."
Tony huffed out a deep breath. This was not going to help with Tony's arguments against Avenger registration at all. "All right. Just keep me posted. I'll give Rhodey the news too, make sure he knows that we're on top of it."
"This is all my fault, Tony," Steve said sadly. "I should've clocked that bomb way before he had a chance to detonate it. Rumlow said the word 'Bucky', and it was just like I was a sixteen-year-old kid again in Brooklyn."
"Let's not go assigning any blame right now," chastised Tony. "Let's wait and see how things go with the Wakandan king. Maybe we'll get lucky and catch him in a forgiving mood."
The corners of Steve's lips twitched into a slight smile. "We can always hope. I'll let you know more as soon as we do."
"Copy that, Cap."
As soon as the monitor clicked off Tony slumped into his chair, burying his face into his hands. Just when he thought things were starting to look up…
"Dad, are you okay?" Peter suddenly asked from the doorway, causing Tony to jump. He must've just gotten home from school.
"Dammit, Pete," breathed Tony. The kid was even more light on his feet since the spider bite. "How much of that did you hear?"
Peter gulped, averting his eyes. "Um… pretty much all of it."
"Pete, we've talked about this!" exclaimed Tony. "Just because you can hear everything that goes on around here now doesn't mean that you should!"
"I know that, Dad," Peter said, a bit too snarkily for Tony's taste. "But it was Steve! And I'm just as worried about him as you are!"
"Cap can take care of himself," Tony grumbled. "You don't need to worry about him."
"He sounded pretty upset, Dad. What's gonna happen to him?"
"Absolutely nothing, if I have anything to say about it!" snapped Tony, cringing when Peter flinched. "Now, you have homework, yeah?"
"Uh huh," Peter answered in a small voice.
Tony's throat tightened; he hated that hurt puppy look that Peter got whenever he thought someone was mad at him. "So why don't you go and get something to eat and then get started on it so you can help me with your new glasses," he said in a softer voice. "Okay?"
Peter nodded, attempting a smile. "Okay."
"Incoming call from Colonel Rhodes, boss," FRIDAY said. "High priority."
"Rhodey?" Tony asked in surprise. He'd been waiting most of the day for Steve to call with news about the Wakandan king. "Yeah, put him through."
"Tony," Rhodes said as soon as he appeared on the monitor. His jaw was tight, he looked more nervous than Tony had seen him in a long time. "We have a situation."
"Okay," said Tony, even as his heart started to race. "Talk to me."
"The Wakandan king and prince arrived in Lagos about fourteen hours ago," Rhodes began. "They toured the blast area with Natasha and arranged for the bodies of their relief workers to be transported back to Wakanda."
"Yeah, okay," Tony said, his brow furrowing. "That all seems pretty normal to me."
"Yeah, but here's where it veers way off normal, Tony," said Rhodes. "Just as King T'Chaka was leaving the blast area, there was another explosion. Prince T'Challa was a few feet away from his father, walking with Natasha. Natasha said he tried to dive for him, to get him out of the way, but the king—"
"No," Tony interrupted, shaking his head. "No, don't say it, Rhodey."
"The king was killed, Tony," Rhodes said. "The Wakandan king was killed."
"Goddammit!" yelled Tony as he slammed his fist down on the counter, grateful beyond belief that Peter was still at school for the next hour. "How could this happen?"
"I don't know, Tony. But that's not all," Rhodes said grimly. "They—"
"They don't think the team had anything to do with it, do they?" Tony demanded, alarmed when Rhodes didn't answer right away. "Rhodey? Do they?"
"From what they found on surveillance footage, it looks like it was Bucky Barnes who set the second bomb," Rhodes answered, his face so drawn and ashen Tony was surprised he was still upright.
"Barnes?" said Tony, confused. "But that doesn't make any sense! He's been on the run for almost three years, eluding our best efforts to find him. Why would he just show up outta nowhere all of a sudden to assassinate a king?"
"I have no idea, Tony. And I agree that it doesn't make much sense, but we have a lot more questions than answers right now," said Rhodes. "But… that's the main reason why I'm talking to you and not Steve. He, Sam, and Natasha are currently on their way back to New York, and they will be required to remain in New York until the investigation is concluded."
"Yeah, and who's running the investigation?"
Rhodes threw up his hands. "Right now it's kinda a free-for-all, especially since the assassination of King T'Chaka occurred on foreign soil, allegedly by someone who's still technically an American citizen, and who's since been arrested by the secret police from Belarus. They managed to flush Barnes out in Romania about four hours ago."
"Shit," Tony muttered. "Belarus? Why them?"
"The working theory right now is that Belarus was part of the Winter Soldier program back during the days of the Soviet Union." Rhodes leaned in, lowering his voice. "Personally, I suspect it's because they wanted him back. Belarus and Russia don't get along all that well, Tony, and a Winter Soldier could come in pretty handy for them right about now."
"Yeah, I know," grumbled Tony. "No one really gets along well with Russia anymore."
"Yeah, well, they don't get along that well with the United States, either," Rhodes said warily. "There's no extradition treaty between the U.S. and Belarus, so our hands are pretty much tied right now."
"Maybe not," Tony said, tapping his chin. "Maybe I could try and convince the State Department to ask that Barnes transferred into SHIELD custody. Think they'd go for that?"
"SHIELD doesn't technically exist, Tony. I'm not sure how that could work."
"Well, it's either that or have the Winter Soldier unleashed on the world again, Rhodes," snapped Tony. "And I don't think any of us want that! When's the team supposed to get back?"
"They should be there in about five hours," answered Rhodes.
"All right. Then as soon as they get here, I'll head down to D.C. and we can get the ball rolling. It can't hurt to try, Rhodey. But we really gotta clear the team of any wrongdoing ASAP, or this whole thing will just add fuel to Ross's fire, and that's something we absolutely don't need right now."
"Ross's fire is already burning pretty high, Tony. You're lucky you didn't hear him a few minutes ago. I thought he was gonna blow the roof off the place."
"I fucking hate that man," Tony muttered under his breath. "I'll let you know once I'm able to leave."
"Copy that," Rhodes said. "See ya soon."
"Yep," Tony said as the monitor went black. "FRIDAY?"
"Yes, boss?"
"Put me through to the Quinjet. Steve and I need to talk."
Unlocking the door to the D.C. apartment, Tony stepped inside, flipping the light on at the same time as he unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. He flopped down onto the couch, working the knot loose on his tie as he pulled out his phone, checking for any messages from Peter. Tony hadn't yet had the time to fully integrate FRIDAY into this apartment, located on the top floor of the Stark building in D.C., just a couple blocks away from the Capitol. Lately though, since it seemed like he was here more often than he was at home, he was starting to think he was going to have to make it a priority very soon.
Finally working his tie loose, Tony tossed it onto the other end of the couch, groaning when it slid right off the end and onto the floor.
"FRIDAY, call Peter," Tony croaked, clearing his dry throat. He'd been talking nonstop for practically the whole day today—sometimes until he was blue in the face—trying to talk Secretary fucking Ross into negotiating for Bucky Barnes' extradition. Steve had been beside himself that he'd "allowed" Bucky to be arrested, and was chomping at the bit to go into Belarus himself and try to break Bucky out. It had taken every ounce of persuasion that Tony had left in him to talk Steve out of it. Tony needed Steve at the Tower, watching Peter. Not out there in some hostile country trying to break his friend—who might still be trying to kill him, because who knows if the real Bucky was even still in that scrambled head of his—out of some secret military prison.
"Young Peter is not at the Tower, boss," answered FRIDAY a few seconds later. "And I can't seem to pinpoint his location."
"What?" Tony yelped, bolting upright on the couch. He winced as the dull headache he'd been nursing for most of the day suddenly returned with a vengeance, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, gripping his phone so tightly with the other hand he was surprised the screen didn't shatter. "Where the hell is he?"
"I'm not sure, boss," answered FRIDAY, her voice frantic. "In fact, the entire residential section of the Tower is currently vacant. I can't seem to pinpoint the locations of any of the team members, and I'm unable to raise them on their phones."
"What do you mean you can't find them?" yelled Tony. "It's already after seven pm, so Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Pete should all be there by now! Steve was supposed to pick Pete up from Ned's house a half an hour ago!"
"I have no record of Captain Rogers returning to the Tower with Young Peter, boss. He departed the Tower with Ms. Romanoff at 6:15pm, but—"
"Call the Leeds' house, FRIDAY," Tony snapped. But before FRIDAY could even dial the Leeds' number, there was loud, urgent knock at the door.
"Tony!" Rhodey frantically shouted through the closed door, sounding more panicked than Tony had ever heard him. "Open up!"
As soon as Tony had unlocked the door Rhodes burst in, sweat pouring down his face despite the freezing outside temperature, his tie hanging loosely around his neck and his uniform jacket unbuttoned. "What—?"
"Tony!" Rhodes sputtered, gasping for breath. He bent over, bracing his palms against his knees. "It's happened, Tony. I ran right over here as soon as I found out. It's all been a smokescreen, Tony. All of it. All these months of negotiations, all the bargaining, all the goddamn begging, it's all been for nothing!"
Tony's knees immediately started to shake, and he gripped the edge of the door, trying to keep himself upright. "Rhodey," he said in a low voice. "What the hell are you talking about? Where's my son?"
Rhodes shook his head, pushing the apartment door closed and flopping down onto the couch, his head in his hands. "It was all a lie, Tony. Secretary Ross, he never had any intention of letting the Avengers go. The whole time he was talking to us out of one side of his mouth, he was making secret deals out the other side. Ross just pulled an end-around all of us, and even I didn't see it coming."
"Rhodey, I swear, if you don't start making some fucking sense soon, I'm gonna—"
"Ross took them, Tony!" Rhodes cried. "He's taken them all! Somehow he managed to get the president to sign some official order that basically turns any Enhanced Individual over to his control. As soon as the ink was dry on the order he got to work. Ross's troops got Clint and the twins from their farm, they got Sam from the Compound, they got some guy named Scott from California, and he took Steve and Natasha and—"
"No!" Tony choked out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He pressed his fist to his chest, his breaths coming only in heaving gasps as his blood turned as cold as ice. Oh God, please no! "Oh Christ, Rhodey, tell me he didn't—"
"He did, Tony," Rhodes said grimly. "He got Peter too."
And we're officially in the "civil war" arc. :( I can't wait to see what you guys think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review!