Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying the story!
A huge thank you to stjohn27 and starkravinghazelnuts for their awesome input on this chapter. :)
Tony watched as Peter's mouth opened, then snapped closed again three separate times, his lower lip starting to shake.
"Well?" Tony said sharply. "Are you gonna just sit there gaping like a lost fish, or are you gonna answer me?"
"I—, I was—" Peter stammered, still squinting against the brightness of the lights. Tony probably should've told FRIDAY to dim the lights a bit, but it was too late for that now. "I was—"
"You were what, exactly?" demanded Tony, squeezing his shaky hands into fists in his lap. "You were in the robotics lab with Ned, dressed in your long underwear, and just lost track of time?"
Peter shook his head, his sweaty curls flopping down over his forehead. "N—, no. I was—"
"Okay, so we've at least established that you were not where you told me you were," Tony snapped. He sucked in an agonizing breath, trying desperately to keep calm but realizing that he was failing nonetheless. Howard had often resorted to shouting at Tony whenever he'd done something stupid as a kid, usually while brandishing a glass of Scotch in one hand, and Tony was frantically trying to avoid going that route.
"So, I'm asking again," he said in a hard voice. "Where the hell were you all afternoon?"
Gulping, Peter ran a trembling hand through his sweaty hair, causing his wayward curls to stick up in every which direction. Kid needed a haircut again already. Goddamnit, how can he not see that he's still just a kid?
"Um… I was just trying to help—"
"You were trying to help," grumbled Tony. He leaned forward in the chair, his eyes boring into Peter's. "And help who, exactly?"
"People," Peter whispered. "Just… people, anyone. Whoever needed me."
"Mmmhmm," Tony said. "And exactly how long did you think you could keep up this little circus routine of yours? How long were you planning on choosing to disobey me?"
A single fat tear snaked its way down Peter's round cheek, and Tony's heart lurched so painfully that he nearly choked. The kid's jawline may have sharpened up a bit since he hit puberty, but he still had the same roundness to his cheeks that he'd had ever since he was seven. Tony bit his lip; he hated seeing Peter so upset, and hated even more when he was the cause of it, but this was far too big of a thing to just brush aside. This was a hell of a lot bigger than just another lost backpack.
"Dad, I'm sorry!" Peter cried. "I didn't mean to—"
"You didn't mean to what, exactly?" barked Tony. His chest was getting tighter with every stuttering beat of his heart, and his left arm had been aching fiercely ever since Steve had called him down to see the news footage of the bank robbery that had led to the destroyed deli. "Kid called himself the Spider-Man," the store owner had told the reporter. "I don't know who he is or where he came from."
Well, it hadn't been at all difficult for Tony and Steve to figure out who the Spider-Man was, or where he came from. And Peter was damn lucky that it'd been Steve who saw the footage first. As it was, there had been barely enough time for Steve and Sam to get Tony to calm down a bit before FRIDAY announced that Peter was almost home.
Peter sniffed, swiping at his eyes. Tony could see he was starting to shiver as well. "Dad, I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't—"
"You mean that you didn't mean to get caught though, don't you?" Tony said, his voice rising with every word. "Because isn't it the goal of every child who does something idiotic behind his parent's back to not get caught? But Christ, Pete, what in the goddamn hell were you thinking? Did you seriously think that you'd be able to keep something like this a secret from me? How stupid do you think I am?"
"Dad, no, that's not what I meant!" Peter cried. He tucked his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and dropping his forehead down. "That's not what I meant at all! I didn't—"
"Then what the hell do you mean?" yelled Tony. "You mean that after I specifically told you no, you went out there behind my back and tried to play superhero? That you just said, 'ah, to hell with what my father says, I must know better right? 'Cause I'm a teenager, and teenagers know everything, don't they?' And then I have to see on some fucking news station some goddamn reporter talking about 'The Spider-Man.' I had to see that my son, who I specifically told to not get involved, tried to go up against something that he didn't understand and nearly got people killed in the process!" Tony paused, his throat so tight he was surprised he could still speak, tears stinging his eyes at the sight of Peter in front of him, cowering in fear on his bed.
"Goddamnit, Pete!" he choked out. "I told you no! I told you no, and you disobeyed me! For weeks you deliberately disobeyed me, going out there and swinging around the city in your goddamn underoos!"
"How do you know—?"
"FRIDAY can keep track of where your phone's been, Peter!" Tony snapped. "And I've never had any reason to use those logs until now, but after I saw that news footage tonight I went and pulled them up. You've been out there for weeks, swinging and flying around, risking your life and lying to me, and I want to know why!"
The room was quiet for a few seconds, with only the sounds of Tony's gasping breaths breaking the leaden silence. Peter was shaking so hard on his bed Tony was surprised he hadn't yet vibrated out of his skin, his hands clamped so tightly over his ears that his knuckles were white. Tony wanted so badly to curl his arms around him, to draw him to his chest and rub his scalp, like he always used to whenever Peter was upset. But he couldn't just yet. Not until he'd made Peter understand just how badly he had scared him.
"Please!" Peter finally squeaked from somewhere in the depths of his tangle of limbs. "Please, I'll tell you anything you wanna hear, just… please, don't yell at me anymore! I can't—, I can't take it, it's too loud! Too loud, Daddy!"
Tony tried to resist, he really did, because the discussion was nowhere near over. But hearing the word 'daddy' fall from Peter's lips for the first time since the Raft incident months before was the final straw. Tony broke down completely, pitching forward onto Peter's bed and wrapping the shivering boy into his arms. Tears streamed down Tony's face as Peter immediately tucked his head under Tony's chin, his fists gripping Tony's shirt just like he used to when he was little. In all of his fear and anger, Tony had completely forgotten how much Peter hated any kind of yelling, even more so since the spider bite. Peter's ears were so sensitive now, Tony couldn't imagine the kind of pain he'd been causing him during his rampage.
"Christ, Pete," he murmured, threading his fingers into Peter's damp curls. "I can't—, I'm so sorry, buddy. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to yell like that."
"Hurts, Daddy," whimpered Peter. "Too loud!"
"I know, bud," Tony whispered. He grabbed one of the throw blankets from the end of the bed, tucking it around Peter's shivering body. "I'm so sorry. It won't happen again."
"Uh huh," Peter murmured through his chattering teeth. "Okay."
"But, you still need to explain yourself," Tony said gently. He rubbed the pads of his fingers over Peter's scalp, sighing when Peter practically melted against Tony's chest. "I can't just let this slide, Pete, you know that."
"I know," Peter said. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath. "I was—, I was just trying to be like you." More tears slid down his cheeks, wetting through Tony's shirt. "A hero, like you. I just wanted to show you that I could be an Avenger."
"Oh God, Pete," Tony croaked, burying his nose into Peter's hair, his hands gliding up and down Peter's back, trying to warm him. "You don't wanna be like me. I'm not a hero, not really. And you're—"
"Yeah, you are," Peter insisted. He lifted his head, his brown eyes all red-rimmed and weepy. "You are. You're brilliant—"
"Not as brilliant as you are, Pete," Tony interrupted. "You're one of the smartest people I've ever seen, and I've seen quite a few."
"You're brave," said Peter, as if he hadn't even heard Tony. "You flew that missile through the wormhole, you went to help Steve with the Project Insight, you took out the Ultron bots when they attacked during the party, you—"
"Not as brave as a little boy who stood up to a Hammer drone ten times his size and didn't even flinch," Tony sputtered. "Not as brave as a boy who figured out how to take down Ultron's entire drone army. Not as brave as a boy who took on five Winter Soldiers and lived to tell about it."
"You're responsible," Peter continued. "You shut down your weapons manufacturing as soon as you found out how they were being misused, even though you knew it was gonna cost you a ton of money. You didn't even hesitate, because you knew it was the right thing to do."
Tony let out a heavy sigh. "But how many innocent people died before then because of my weapons?" he murmured. "I'm not responsible, Pete. I was a murderer. And I'll never—no matter how many lives that I save from now on—be able to atone for all the lives that were lost because of my ignorance and greed."
"No, Dad," Peter said, shaking his head, his curls all in disarray. "No. That's not true. There was no way you could've known what was going on."
"I could have if I'd've pulled my head out of my ass every now and then," said Tony. "But instead I chose to be an idiot, drinking and sleeping around and ignoring all of the collateral damage that was piling up around me. And all that nonsense didn't stop with Iron Man, buddy, not all of it. All those months where I thought I was dying, I did so many stupid things. Too many to count. I even got so shitfaced drunk at my own birthday party that not even Rhodey was able to talk me down. I ended up damaging almost half of the Malibu house before that fiasco came to a halt."
"You thought you were dying?" Peter gasped. His hands gripped Tony's shirt so tightly that Tony was surprised it hadn't torn yet. "When?"
"It doesn't matter now, Peter," Tony said dismissively. "It's all in the past."
"Mmm," Peter said, tucking his head back down. "Yeah, it's in the past now. Just like the days when you were building weapons instead of superhero suits."
"Peter," Tony started. "This doesn't mean—"
"I was just trying to be like you," Peter repeated. "But I guess I screwed it up."
"Yeah, you did, kid," said Tony. He cupped Peter's cheeks, brushing his tears away with his thumbs. "But I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be better. And you can't do that if you're going behind my back and trying to take on things that you're not ready for. You say I'm brave, Peter, but there's been so many times when I've been so fucking scared of losing you that I could barely breathe! Killian, Ross, that goddamn vision of you dying in my arms, Pete, all of those things, they haunt my dreams every single night! I'd rather fly through a million wormholes or take on a million Project Insights than face the possibility of losing you. And then tonight, when I saw that news footage, when I saw that destroyed store, and for a few agonizing seconds I didn't know if you were buried under all that rubble somewhere or if you'd made it out somehow, well, let's just say it's damn lucky that Cap was there, because he almost had to catch me."
Peter's lower lip quivered, and he caught it between his teeth, nodding with downcast eyes. "I'm sorry that I made you worry."
"Well, it's a bit better now that I know you're okay, Pete," Tony said. "But I'm only half joking when I say I'm not sure how much more my heart can take of this. It isn't exactly in its finest working order, you know. Hasn't really been since Afghanistan."
"I think it's stronger than you think," mumbled Peter. "You told me you survived surgery in that cave with almost no anesthesia. That takes a pretty strong heart."
"Mmm, maybe. But I have a feeling trying to put up with having a superhero teenager for a son is gonna be its biggest test yet."
"I'm not a hero," Peter said, slumping against Tony.
"No, you aren't," Tony agreed. He kissed Peter's temple, squeezing him so tightly that Peter grunted. "At least not yet."
Peter froze, his head slowly lifting from Tony's chest. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Tony said with a sigh. "That maybe I was wrong. I still want to talk to Cap and Sam about it first, but while I'm not ready for you to be galavanting around Queens at all hours of the night trying to stop bank robberies, I might be willing to reconsider allowing you to join in on our training sessions up at the Compound."
Peter's eyebrows shot up so high they disappeared under his hair. "Really? You're serious?"
"But only if you can promise me that you're not ever going to do anything like this ever again," Tony said firmly. "And you're not gonna start training right away, either. As much as I hate to do this, you're gonna have to wait for a while still, and I don't know exactly how long yet, so don't ask. But the disobedience can't go unpunished, Peter. It just can't."
"I know," Peter whispered, his chin dropping down to his chest. "I know. I'm sorry, Dad."
"Good. You should be," Tony said, softening his words with a kiss to the top of Peter's head. He curled his hand around Peter's arm, pointing to the web shooter around his wrist. "Now, go get cleaned up so you can eat something, 'cause when you're done I wanna have a good look at these fancy new toys of yours."
"So, if you're done doing whatever it was that you were doing, then why can't you come back to the robotics lab with me?" asked Ned the following day while he and Peter were walking to the lunchroom. "I've been working on something pretty cool in there and I've been dying to show you!"
Peter let out a heavy sigh. "I can't, dude. Since we don't have decathlon practice those days, Dad's picking me up right after school. We need… we're working on something pretty important at home."
"Why's it so important all of a sudden?" Ned asked. "Your dad's never made you skip out on robotics lab before?"
"I know," answered Peter. "He's designing a new repulsor, one that he can launch from an independent power source, and he wants me to help him." Not that I have a choice.
"What good would a single repulsor do?" asked Ned as he picked up his lunch tray. "Wouldn't you need like a set of them to do anything useful?"
"They come in sets," Peter said. "Mainly for emergencies, like if an airplane lost its engine power or something. The repulsors could be launched and attach themselves to the plane to keep it level until it can land."
"Oh. Well, I guess that is pretty cool," Ned said. "Think your dad would let me help too?"
"Maybe, I can ask him," answered Peter as they sat down at their usual table. Peter and Ned always sat together at one end of a long table with Michelle, a rather eccentric girl from their class, down at the other end, her nose usually buried in a book.
"Hey, look," Ned said a few minutes later through a mouthful of tater tots. He elbowed Peter in the side. "Liz is putting up the Homecoming banner."
"Mmm," replied Peter as he took a sip from his milk carton. "When's that?"
"Couple weeks I think. I was thinking of asking Betty, you think she'd wanna go with me?"
"Sure, dude," Peter said distractedly. Too bad Shuri doesn't live closer.
"Otherwise we can always go stag," Ned continued. "But I bet Liz would go with you if you asked."
"I'm not—, I don't know if I even wanna go," Peter mumbled. Or if Dad would even let me if I did want to.
"Why not?"
'Cause I'm pretty much grounded until I'm eighteen? "I dunno, I guess I'm not all that big on going to a school dance when the girl I'd rather take lives on another continent. But I can ask my dad if I can go if it's important to you."
"Since we'd look like complete losers if we didn't go, I'd say that's a yes," said Ned. "So yeah, please ask."
"You guys are already losers," piped up Michelle from the other end of the table. "Missing one overpriced high-school social event wouldn't change anything."
Peter looked up, frowning in Michelle's direction. "That isn't very nice."
Michelle shrugged, closing her book with a loud slap. "Who said I'm nice?"
Ned quirked an eyebrow as he watched Michelle walk away. "It is too bad that your princess doesn't live closer though."
Sighing, Peter nodded. He'd been missing Shuri quite a bit lately, talking to her on video chat just wasn't the same. "Yeah, but I doubt her brother would allow her to travel up here alone, and I really doubt the school officials would let her guards in with their eight-foot sonic spears, so I don't think it would work out."
"No, probably not," Ned said. "I still think I might ask Betty though. That okay with you?"
"Sure. Go for it, dude."
"Cool. So, when can you come over and help me with the Death Star?"
"Um…" Peter stammered. He shoved the last of his tater tots into his mouth. "I dunno, I gotta ask—"
"You gotta ask your dad about that too?" grumbled Ned. "Geez, dude, you get into trouble lately or something? Why's he treating you like you're eight years old again?"
"It's just a phase that he's in," snapped Peter. "Dad gets a bit overprotective sometimes, you know that. Can't really blame him, given some of the stuff he's been up against."
Ned held up his hands. "Hey, I didn't mean anything by it, I was just wondering. I mean, I've been sitting on the Death Star for a couple weeks now, waiting on you, so I just thought—"
"I'll ask if you can come over this weekend," Peter interrupted. "We're not going up to the Compound until they finish some construction work Dad's having done on it, so maybe you could spend the night on Friday. Sound good?"
"Yeah!" Ned said, his round face breaking into a huge smile. He always enjoyed getting invited to spend the night at the Tower. "Think we could convince Captain America to help us with it?"
"Sure, I can ask him," Peter said. "He'd probably enjoy it. I can ask Natasha too, she likes Legos. She helped Shuri and me with our castle down in Wakanda."
"Black Widow likes Legos?" asked Ned, raising his eyebrows. "Who woulda thought, huh?"
Peter shrugged. "She says she finds it relaxing. She's helped me build a bunch of stuff before."
"Cool!" Ned said excitedly. "Sounds great!"
The bell rang then, indicating the end of the lunch period. Peter and Ned picked up their trays, heading over to the conveyor to return them. "So, when are you gonna ask Betty?" Peter asked. "Better do it soon before someone else does."
Ned cleared his throat. "Maybe in gym class later today, if I can work up the nerve."
"Sure," Peter said, inwardly groaning about gym class. He'd always hated gym class since he'd always been so small and weak, and the classes never really allowed him to showcase his gymnastics skills. But ever since the spider bite they'd become even more troublesome. It was a lot harder than one would think for Peter to not show off his super strength now, which usually ended up with Peter laying off even more than he probably needed to and appearing even weaker than he looked. He still was always one of the last people picked for team sports, and he had to concentrate so hard on trying to not hurt anyone that it exhausted him.
"I think we're doing the fitness challenges today and Friday," Ned said as they headed to their physics classroom. "You know, the Captain America fitness challenge?"
"Oh geez," groaned Peter, grinning sheepishly. "Yeah, Steve told me that Principal Morita had asked him to do those videos a long time ago. I guess he finally found the time."
"Guess so," said Ned. "Should be fun!"
Holy shit, Tony thought, adjusting the counter lamp so he could examine one of Peter's web shooters a little more closely. This is just… brilliant!
Tony had meant to have Peter go over the tech with him last night before Peter went to bed, but after he finally managed to get Peter warmed up and cleaned up and fed, it had gotten too late for Tony to get any more than just a cursory glance. As it was, Peter was practically nodding off at the dinner table, exhausted from the intense confrontation plus the events that had led up to it. Tony had gotten him tucked into bed, and then he'd ended up sitting there on the bed next to him for nearly half of the night, his hand on Peter's shoulder or carding through his hair, just like he used to when Peter was little or when he'd had a nightmare. It had been a long time since Tony had done that, but he felt like he needed to that night. Almost more so for his own sake than for Peter's.
"FRIDAY, what did Pete use to construct this?" asked Tony, turning the web shooter over the magnifying glass. "I mean, besides the pieces of my tech that he swiped from the lab."
"I believe Young Peter used his glue formulation, boss," answered FRIDAY. "Which is now patent pending, by the way. Miss Potts submitted the paperwork early this morning."
"Yeah, yeah, that's good. Make sure Pepper knows to set up a separate trust for Pete with any profits that come from it."
"Miss Potts has already done so, boss," FRIDAY said.
"Course she has," muttered Tony. "She thinks of everything. Just one of the many reasons why I love her."
"Indeed she does, boss. Captain Rogers is also on the line, he's wondering if he can come up."
"Yeah, sure," Tony said, adjusting the lamp again as he pressed the lever on the web shooter, causing a straight rope of webbing to shoot out and attach itself to the ceiling. He yanked hard on the webbing, a smug smile stretching across his face when the webbing didn't budge a single millimeter. "Damn, this thing is incredible!"
"Tony?" Steve's voice called from the elevator.
"In here, old man!" replied Tony. He pointed the shooter towards the left side of the lab, pressing the lever again and sending another rope of webbing stretching across the entrance to the lab just as Steve attempted to walk through it.
"Oops," Tony said with a grin as Steve ducked underneath the webbing. "Sorry there, Cap."
Steve raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes widening at the sight of the web shooter. "Is that what Peter was using last night?"
"One of 'em," answered Tony. "Kid built four and was using two at a time, one on each wrist. Altered that glue recipe of his to use for the webbing, and while I've only had enough time to run some preliminary tests, from what I've seen so far, the tensile strength is off the charts." He jerked his head up to the rope hanging from the ceiling. "Go ahead and give that a good yank, you'll see what I mean."
Quirking an eyebrow, Steve curled his large hand around the webbing and pulled, his bicep bulging out as he strained to pull down the thin rope.
"I'd really appreciate it if you didn't bring down the ceiling there, Cap," Tony said a few seconds later. "Repair work always makes me cranky."
"I don't even think I could if I wanted to," Steve said, huffing out a sharp breath as he released the webbing. "This stuff is really strong! You said Peter made this himself?"
"Yep," Tony said proudly. He set the web shooter down carefully and switched off the lamp. "I'm thinking we might have to patent this stuff too. What can I say, my kid's a genius."
Steve smiled. "So I take it the… discussion didn't go as badly as you thought it would last night? I never heard back from you."
The smile dropped from Tony's face, and he looked down at the shooter sitting on the counter, shaking his head. "Well, actually," he mumbled. "Things didn't go as well as I'd planned. I sat in that room of his for at least fifteen minutes after FRIDAY said he was on his way up, reciting everything you and Sam had said to me over and over in my head, everything we'd talked about, but then as soon as I saw him, it was as if my father's ghost took over me or something, and I just started shouting." Tony broke off, swallowing against the hard knot in his throat. "I yelled at him, Cap. I didn't let him explain, I didn't even let him finish a single goddamn sentence, I just yelled. I yelled at him so much that for a moment or two, I'm pretty sure he was afraid of me."
"Tony," Steve said carefully. "You can't blame yourself. You were scared for Peter, Sam and I both saw it. It's understandable that you'd get a little upset—"
"Yeah, well, this was more than just a little upset, Cap!" Tony snapped. His shoulders sagged as he let out a morbid chuckle, sinking down onto the nearby couch. Steve took a seat on the opposite end, crossing his legs as he prepared to listen, just like he always did. How many times had Cap sat there, listening to Tony rant about this or that over the last seven years? It was likely too many to count.
And Tony shuddered to think where he would be right now if Cap hadn't been around during these last seven years.
"You know, I did used to be afraid of Howard," Tony began in a soft voice. "Not when I was fifteen, of course. By then I knew he was just an asshole, and I didn't give a shit about what he thought of me anymore. But I was when I was little. I remember this one time, I was maybe seven or eight, right around the same age as Peter was when I got him, and I'd built this pretty fancy remote-controlled car. I'd built plenty of stuff before, more difficult stuff, but for some reason or another I was damn proud of this car. So I was running around the house, driving the car through the hallways, not really paying attention to where I was going, and I ended up in Howard's office. He was standing in there, a glass of Scotch in his hand, and I remember the car driving up to him and hitting him right in the side of his foot." Tony shook his head, biting his bottom lip. He'd never told anyone about this, not even Rhodey. "Howard ended up jumping so high that he dropped the glass, spilling Scotch all over the floor, and his hand came back and smacked me right across the face. Then he just started yelling, and he didn't stop until he'd gone completely hoarse. He was half drunk off his ass already, so I couldn't even understand most of what he was saying, but I distinctly remember being afraid of him."
It was silent for several heartbeats before Steve spoke up. "I'm so sorry, Tony," he said softly. "I can't imagine what that must've been like."
"Yeah, well, it pretty much sucked," Tony said. He scrubbed at his eyes with his palm, his lack of sleep the previous night starting to hit him hard.
"I really wish you could've known the same Howard that I knew," Steve said. "Because I don't think that Howard could have done something like that. Not to his own son."
Tony dropped his head back, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "From what I understand, Howard got pretty messed up after you disappeared, Cap. And then a bunch of other crap just got piled on top of that, and well, I guess he just couldn't take it after a while. I just…"
"That's still no excuse to treat your own child like that, Tony," Steve said. "You were innocent, you had no part of how the world had treated him. But Tony, you can't be too hard on yourself for being upset last night. You were scared, it's completely understandable. And I'd like to think that I know you pretty well now. I know you'd never do anything like that to Peter."
"No," Tony sputtered. "I couldn't. But the poor kid was practically shaking out of his skin by the time I came to my senses. He was shivering, probably still scared shitless by what'd happened, and then I just started shouting at him, completely forgetting about his enhanced hearing, and—"
"You know Peter's already forgiven you, Tony," interrupted Steve. "It won't do any good to keep beating yourself up over it. And it's not exactly like Peter wasn't in the wrong at all here either."
"Yeah, I know. And he knows it, too. I just… he started going on about how he wanted to be like me, and Steve, I could barely stand to listen to it! He thinks I'm some sort of hero, and I'm just—"
"You're Peter's dad, Tony," Steve said with a faint smile. "Of course you're his hero. And he knows how much you love him, it's written all over your face every time you look at him. We can all see it, and so can Peter."
Tony scoffed. "Yeah, maybe. I just… my childhood pretty much sucked, Cap. I just wanted to break the cycle of shame."
Steve leaned forward, clapping a hand on Tony's shoulder. "I don't think you need to be worried about that, Tony. That cycle's been broken now for a long, long time."
"Dude, I've counted at least fifty sit-ups already, and you're not even breaking a sweat!" Ned hissed as he held down Peter's feet. "How is this possible? Before you used to start gasping for breath after only about ten of these unless you used that puffer thing of yours first."
"Good job, Mr. Stark!" said Coach Wilson as he walked by. He checked off a box on his clipboard. "Looks like you've definitely aced this rotation."
"Thanks, Coach," Peter stammered. He sat up, looking sheepishly at Ned. "Um… Steve and I sometimes work out together. You know, when we go up to the Compound. I guess I'm just in better shape than I used to be."
"But, you still look the same," Ned said. "Like, you're still skinny and short and—"
"Thanks, Ned, I get the picture," grumbled Peter. "It's your turn now."
"Yeah, I know. Just give me a minute, I hafta psych myself up first." Ned breathed in, letting it out through his clenched teeth. "Hey, I can't believe I forgot to ask you this earlier. Did you guys hire a new Avenger or something?"
"Huh?" Peter asked. "What're you talking about?"
"It was on the news last night," Ned answered. "Some dude they're calling Spider-Man who was fighting against a bunch of guys trying to rob a bank out in Queens. I just assumed he was one of the Avengers. He was wearing a superhero suit and everything!"
"Uhh, no, I don't think so," stammered Peter, gulping. It'd never even occurred to him that any of his classmates would've seen the news coverage of the robbery. "I'm sure I would've heard about it before."
"Mmm. Well, looks like the Avengers might wanna talk to this guy," said Ned. "'Cause I thought he had some pretty cool moves."
A smile broke out across Peter's face, which he quickly hid behind his hand. "I can talk to my dad about it. Maybe he has heard of the Spider-Man and just hasn't told me."
"Spider-Man?" said Liz as she walked by with Betty and another friend. "Sorry, Peter, I couldn't help but overhear. Do you know him? I hadn't ever heard of him before last night."
"Yeah, we were just talking about it!" Ned said excitedly. "Peter told me that he thinks the Avengers are gonna try and hire him!"
"What?" Peter began. "No, that's not what I—"
"Really? That's so cool!" said Liz. "Maybe you could introduce us sometime? I mean, we've met the rest of the Avengers already, so—"
"I never got a chance to meet Thor," grumbled Betty. "Somehow I always managed to miss school whenever he came by."
"Oh, Thor is one cool dude!" exclaimed Ned. "Isn't he, Peter?"
"Huh?" stuttered Peter. "Yeah, Thor's pretty awesome. I miss him, actually. We haven't seen him in almost three years now."
"You know, Betty, if you wanted to come to the Homecoming dance with me, I could tell you all about the time when Peter kicked Thor's butt in chess," Ned said rapidly. "I've got loads of stories about the other Avengers too. How 'bout it?"
Peter's eyes went wide as both he and Liz looked towards Betty. He had never heard Ned be so bold around a girl before. "Um… sure, Ned," Betty said with a shy smile, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. "That sounds… like fun."
"Really?" squeaked Ned. "That's so awesome, thank you!"
"You know, Liz doesn't have a date yet either," said Betty. "Maybe she and Peter could go together, and then we can double!"
"Heck yeah, that would be even more awesome!" Ned practically shouted, drawing the attention of nearly every other single person in the gym. "Don't you think so, Peter?"
"Um…" mumbled Peter, wiping his sweaty palms on his gym shorts. "Uhh, sure, I guess. I mean, I'd have to ask my—"
"That's Peter-speak for 'yes, that sounds great'," Ned said through clenched teeth. "Right, Peter?"
"Uh huh," Peter said with a grimace. "Sure. That sounds like fun."
"Great!" Liz said with a smile. Peter had always thought that she had a pretty smile. "You know, I'm having some people over tonight at my house, you guys are more than welcome to come if you like."
"Yes!" Ned exclaimed. "We would love to, right Peter?"
"Ned, I don't even know if I can—"
"We'll be there," Ned said, jabbing his elbow into Peter's side. "We'll definitely be there."
"Perfect!" Betty said. She tugged on Liz's hand, pulling her towards the rope-climbing station. "See you both tonight!"
"Oh my God!" Ned gasped once the two girls were out of earshot. "I can't believe what just happened! Did you see that? I actually asked out a girl! And she said yes!"
"Yeah," Peter said grimly. "But, dude, you just volunteered me to go to both a party and a dance that I don't even know if I can go to! I mean, it's a school night tonight! Who has parties on school nights?"
"I guess Liz does," Ned said, flashing a wide smile in the direction of the two girls. "Wait a minute. You're not thinking of bailing on me now, are you?"
"Ned—!"
"Peter, you can't! You can't do this to me, this is a huge deal! Like, huge-huge!"
"Ned, I'm not trying to bail on you! I just don't know if my dad'll—"
"Good grief, Peter!" grumbled Ned. "You can't tell me that your dad never went to a party on a school night before!"
"No, I'm sure he did, but—"
"Then what's the problem? Besides, if it helps, you can tell your dad that the only reason my parents are letting me go is because he said that you could."
"Ned—!" Peter sputtered.
"C'mon, Peter, your dad likes me!" Ned protested. "And I know a run-of-the-mill high school party probably can't hold a candle to getting to go to a place like Wakanda, but this is a big deal for me! Please, don't mess it up for me, okay?"
"Okay, okay, okay!" said Peter in a loud whisper. "I'll… um… I'll text Dad when we're done here and ask him. I'm sure he'll understand."
Ned's shoulders sagged in relief. "Oh good. Thanks, dude."
"Sure," Peter said, inwardly groaning. How in the hell am I going to manage this one?
"Okay," said Ned as he sat down on the mat. "I guess I'd better do my sit-ups now."
"What good is it trying to ground him if I let him go to some other kid's house party on a school night?" Tony asked Steve, showing him the text message Peter had sent him only a few moments ago. "Damn kid, I can just hear his little begging voice too. He knows that always gets to me."
Steve shook his head, trying and failing to hide a smirk. "I always thought it was his, what do you call them? The puppy dog eyes? I thought that's what got to you the most. I know he's given those to me more than few times."
"And you're not helping at all, old man," Tony retorted. "I'm supposed to be standing my ground here, not being convinced on why I shouldn't."
"I'm sorry, Tony," laughed Steve. "But I'm afraid I can't help you with this one."
"New memo coming in from the Department of Damage Control, boss," announced FRIDAY.
Tony rolled his eyes. "What do they want now?" he mumbled under his breath as he shoved his glasses onto his face and tapped his monitor. "Let's see it, FRI."
The monitor blinked, then filled with the memo written on official government letterhead. Tony scanned it quickly, searching for anything of actual importance. What was it with these government types that they always had to make something so simple sound so complicated?
"Shit," Tony muttered under his breath a moment later. "Always has to be something."
"What? What's it say?" asked Steve.
"Apparently they're gonna be moving another big convoy of junk from the Triskelion mess next week," Tony said. "It should be the last one from there, and the bigwigs are wanting to make sure the warehouse still has space before they sent it up there."
"Okay, so what's the problem?" asked Steve. "Does it?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," mumbled Tony. He tapped his chin, running the numbers in his head. "But, and I can't believe I haven't really thought about it until now, it really shouldn't. That warehouse is home to all of the junk left over from the Chitauri invasion and the Triskelion wreck, but by my calculations, it should've been almost full by now. There technically shouldn't be enough room for the new shipment that's coming from the Triskelion."
Steve furrowed his brow. "So… are you saying that some of it has gone missing?"
"Wouldn't be the first time the government has misplaced something important," Tony grumbled. "They misplaced you for almost seventy years, didn't they?"
"Um, I don't think this is quite the same—"
"Or it could be even worse," Tony interrupted. "Someone could be—"
"You think someone is stealing these alien artifacts?" asked Steve.
"I'm starting to think that way," Tony barked. "Dammit! This means that those weapons that Pete's bank robbers were using really could've been alien-based! I thought they might've just sounded like that to him because his ears are all whacked out now, but—"
"With the kind of damage that store took, it would make sense," Steve said with a nod. "What can we do about this?"
Tapping his monitor, Tony filed the memo away. "Well… I'm thinking Pete's decathlon team just gained another chaperone for their D.C. trip next week. Then I can tag the convoy and have FRIDAY keep an eye on it for me. If someone tries to mess with it, I'll be able to snag 'em."
"You sure you'd want to handle that alone?" Steve asked. "'Cause I can send Sam down there with you guys too if you think—"
"Nah, I wouldn't worry about it," Tony said. "It's probably just some punk. I should be able to take care of it on my own."
Steve pursed his lips, frowning. Tony knew he didn't like sending out team members on missions by themselves. In fact, Tony couldn't remember a single time when Steve had done so. Even simple reconnaissance missions always had at least two people. "Mmm, okay. But you'll call for backup if you need it, right?"
Tony's upper lip curled into a smirk. Despite himself, he found it damn endearing with how much Steve was always looking out for everyone. Barton had even taken to calling him the team mom, with which Tony silently agreed. "Yes, Captain," he said sarcastically. "I promise."
"Tony, this isn't really a joking matter—"
"I promise, Steve, okay?" Tony repeated. "Like I said, it's probably just some punk."
"Some punk who's constructing and selling hi-tech weapons in a densely populated city, Tony," Steve said sternly. "That would be a pretty dangerous punk."
"And if I can find him, I'll take care of him. End of story," Tony said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Now. What should I do about this party that Pete wants to go to?"
"Um, well, I don't know, Tony," said Steve, trying and failing to look serious. "I guess that depends on how well you can resist his puppy dog eyes."
Rereading Peter's text, Tony wrinkled his nose. "Ned says his life will be ruined if I don't go. I know he's just being overdramatic, but that's what he said. So, can I go?"
"Damn puppy dog eyes," Tony muttered as he tapped out his reply. "Fine, but I'm picking you up at 11pm sharp. And you need to do your homework first."
The reply came about twenty minutes later. "Oh, thank you! Ned says thank you too!"
"There," Tony said, showing Steve the reply. "Ya happy?"
Steve let out a laugh. "You know I'm indifferent, Tony. Or, I should say, I at least try to be. But you're usually a lot happier when Peter's happy, so you can take that for what it's worth."
"Yeah, I suppose that's true," said Tony. "Damn kid's got me wrapped around his little finger and he doesn't even know it."
"Of course he knows it," Steve said. He clapped a hand on Tony's shoulder. "But I'm pretty sure it works the other way around just as much."
"Yeah, probably," Tony said. He turned back to his monitor, checking the status of the remodel work going on up at the Compound. Vision had been tasked with overseeing most of the construction, and Rhodey and Happy had gone up there just yesterday to monitor the installation of the new landing pad for the upgraded Quinjets. Tony was hoping the work would be completed within the two week window given to him by the contractor because there were a ton of new supplies and equipment that needed moving, but Steve had wanted to wait to transfer them up until the construction was done, so they were just sitting down in one of the Tower's storage compartments.
"A lot happier?" Tony asked a few seconds later. "Really?"
"Really," Steve answered with wide eyes. "Like, really."
"Mmm," Tony said fondly. "Yeah, I guess that's true."
"Okay, so where are you guys gonna be at 11pm?" Dad asked, pulling into what FRIDAY had indicated was Liz's driveway. Peter had always known that Liz's family was on the wealthier side, but he hadn't thought she was quite this wealthy. Her house, while still smaller than the Malibu house had been, was big and fancy and had a ton of windows. In fact, Peter could see the flashing lights from the DJ set-up all the way from the end of the driveway.
"We'll be right here, waiting for you," answered Peter. "Won't we, Ned?"
"Absolutely, Mr. Stark, sir," said Ned. "I'll make sure Peter is out here with me at 11pm sharp."
"Gee, thanks," muttered Peter.
"Well, as long as one of ya grabs the other, you should be fine," Dad said sternly. "But I mean it. Eleven sharp, not a second later."
"Yes, sir," Ned said. "Got it."
"All right," Dad said. "Go on and have some fun, or at least as much fun you can have in a house filled with geeks eating pizza and drinking fruit punch." He ruffled Peter's hair, winking towards Ned. "Nice hat by the way, Ned."
"Thank you, Mr. Stark!" Ned said with a wide smile, tapping the brown fedora perched on his round head. "It gives me confidence!"
"Can never have too much confidence!" Dad called through his window as Peter and Ned slid from the car. "Eleven sharp!"
"Thanks, Dad!" said Peter, waving as his father backed out of the driveway and drove away. It had been a long time since Dad had driven Peter anywhere by himself, and Peter wouldn't be at all surprised if he simply drove to a coffee shop a few blocks away and waited there for the next three hours until it was time to pick them up.
Peter's heart was thudding as he and Ned approached the house, the pulsating beat of the music rattling the windows on either side of the ornate front door. Were Liz's parents even home? Peter couldn't imagine Dad ever letting him have a party like this without any adult supervision.
But then again, Liz's dad wasn't an overprotective superhero either.
"Do we just go inside?" Ned asked once they reached the door.
"I guess," answered Peter. "I can't imagine anyone could hear the doorbell over all that music."
"Okay, so… open the door then."
"Why don't you open it?"
"Liz is your date to the dance, Peter!" Ned hissed. "You open it!"
"You're the one who arranged all of it!" retorted Peter. "And I still haven't figured out what I'm gonna tell Shuri about all of this!"
"You're just going as friends, Peter," Ned said in a rather patronizing voice. "I'm sure Shuri doesn't mind that you have other friends who are girls."
Peter rolled his eyes, gripping the brass doorknob. "Fine! I'll open it!"
"Then open it!"
To Peter's relief, the door swung open easily. Stepping over the threshold, Peter fought against the urge to cover his ears against the blare of the music, grateful that at least the lights were dimmed down low. He should've remembered to bring his earplugs with.
"Hey guys!" Liz said as she suddenly slid into view, a red Solo cup in one hand. "I'm so glad you came!"
"Hey, Liz!" Ned called back, waving. "You have a really nice house!"
"Thanks, Ned," answered Liz. "Um, Betty's in the kitchen I think, and there's pizza and drinks in there too, so…"
"Great!" said Ned, his smile so wide Peter was surprised his face hadn't split open. "We'll go and say hi, then."
They had barely taken two steps towards the kitchen when the screechy voice of Flash Thompson broke through the ear-splitting music. "Hey, Penis Parker! Did daddy let you come out and play tonight? Where's your bodyguard Captain America?"
Peter froze, his jaw tightening and his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Flash sure had some nerve to be trash-talking the freaking Avengers in front of practically the entire senior class of the high school, and Peter almost wished Steve was there with him just so he could talk Flash down a peg or two.
"C'mon, Peter, just ignore him," Ned said from behind him. "Let's go get some pizza or something."
"Sure," mumbled Peter. "Sometimes I'm just sick of always having to ignore him though."
"Well, yeah, but what else are you gonna do?" asked Ned. "Beat him up?"
"Mmm, no. But sometimes I wish I could." And probably not for the reasons you might think.
Betty was in fact in the kitchen, and Peter felt a little better once he'd downed a few slices of sausage pizza and a couple cups of Dr Pepper. He was even able to smile a few times, especially when some of the girls started ranking the attractiveness of the various Avengers.
"I definitely think Thor is the hottest," said Betty. "I mean, have you seen those arms of his? They're like, huge!"
"Oh, but Captain America has such dreamy eyes!" one of her friends piped up through a mouthful of pizza. "And that dimple when he smiles! I mean, I get lightheaded just seeing it!"
"I can't wait to tell Dad about this," Peter whispered to Ned. "He's gonna get a kick out of it when I tell him Cindy said she thought his goatee was sexy."
"Your dad's kinda proud of his facial hair, isn't he?" asked Ned.
"Yeah," Peter said. "He keeps wondering when I'm gonna start growing some. Says he can't wait to teach me how to shave."
"My dad hates shaving, dude," Ned said with a grimace. "I don't think it's as fun as some people think. Besides, you have such a baby face you'll probably be thirty before you need to start shaving."
"Oh, like you're one to talk!" retorted Peter. "You're older than me, and I don't see you growing any yet!"
"Hey, Ned," Betty cut in as the blaring music changed to a ballad. "Wanna go dance?"
"Yeah!" Ned exclaimed. "Let's go!"
With barely a backward glance, Betty took Ned's arm, pulling him towards the living room. A few seconds later the rest of the girls started filing out, leaving Peter pretty much alone in the kitchen. Peter looked around awkwardly, then headed off in the opposite direction. Maybe he could find another room to hide in for a few minutes that was a bit quieter.
"I really should've remembered my earplugs," Peter mumbled as he shuffled down a long hallway of closed doors, hoping he'd come across a bathroom or something. He'd just about reached the end of it when one of the doors opened suddenly and a man came out, his hands so full of papers and files that he ended up running straight into Peter.
"Whoa!" Peter yelped, his hand reaching out instinctively to grip the man's wrist, preventing him from falling backwards. "I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't see you there!"
"It's no problem, kid," the man said gruffly, adjusting the pile of files in his arms. "I wasn't expecting anyone to come wandering down this hallway."
"I—, I was just looking… for the bathroom, sir," Peter mumbled. "I'm… I think I'm a bit lost."
"No, no, that's okay," said the man. He shifted his files, holding out his hand to Peter. "I'm Liz's dad, Adrian Toomes."
"Hello," said Peter as he gripped Mr. Toomes' hand. "I'm Peter Stark."
"Mmm, you're Tony Stark's boy?" asked Mr. Toomes, releasing Peter's hand. "That's quite a grip you got there, Peter. Pretty quick reflexes too. I thought I was gonna hit the floor back there."
"Yes, sir," Peter answered. "Tony Stark is my father."
"Hmm, I thought I recognized you. You're the one who's taking Liz to that dance that's coming up, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir. But we're just going as friends, so you don't—"
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," Mr. Toomes said. He leaned in, his eyes narrowing as he studied Peter's face. "She's still too young to date anyway."
"Yes, sir," said Peter, gulping as a sheen of sweat broke out on the back of his neck. There was something about Mr. Toomes that seemed… off, but Peter couldn't quite place what it was.
"Well, it was nice to meet you, Peter," Mr. Toomes said. He shifted the papers in his arms yet again, pointing in the opposite direction with his free hand. The movement caused one of the folders to open just enough for Peter to get a glimpse of the top page, which appeared to be some kind of order manifest. "Um… the bathroom is that direction, down the other hallway."
"Th—, thank you, sir," Peter stammered, scratching the back of his neck. Both of his arms were covered in goosebumps, and Peter let out a hard shiver. "It was nice to meet you."
"Likewise," said Mr. Toomes with a rather sly smile. "It's always nice when one of you Starks decides to come on down from that massive Tower of yours to mingle with us commoners."
Commoners? Peter thought. There's absolutely nothing common about this house! The old Queens apartment would've fit in here at least six times!
"Um…" stammered Peter.
"That was a joke, Pete," Mr. Toomes said, winking. "Thought you'd be able to recognize a joke, doesn't that father of yours think he's a pretty funny guy?"
"Oh," Peter said with a slight frown. Only Dad ever called him 'Pete', and to hear some kinda-creepy near-stranger call him that only made his goosebumps worse. "Yeah, he is. Uh… sorry. I'm… a… gonna head on to the bathroom, then."
Peter could feel Mr. Toomes' gaze practically boring into the back of his skull as he walked away, which did nothing to help his goosebumps, or the uneasy feeling he'd had almost as soon as he'd laid eyes on the man. Something just seemed… off about him.
"Hey, Penis Parker!" Flash suddenly yelled from the DJ booth, causing Peter to violently jump. His senses were rapidly becoming overwhelmed, and he fought against the strong urge to cover his ears. "Too bad you couldn't invite your Disney princess to come with ya tonight! I know we'd all love to meet her!"
"Uhh," stuttered Peter. "I'm… um…"
"Hey, Peter!" Ned called from the nearby dance floor. "Come and dance with us!"
"No," Peter said softly, realizing too late that there was no way that Ned could even hear him. "I gotta get out—, I'm gonna just go wait outside."
"What?" yelled Ned, pointing to his ears. "I can't hear you!"
Peter shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself as he headed directly for the front door. It was already after 10pm, he could just wait on the porch or something until Dad came to pick he and Ned up. "I can't… I'm just gonna wait outside." I'm just gonna wait outside, I'm just gonna wait outside… too much… too loud… I can't…
"Christ, Pete, you're shivering!" Tony said as Peter slid into the front seat of the car. Ned was still standing by the front door of the house, saying goodbye to some perky blonde girl. "What happened to you?"
"Just got to be a bit loud, you know, with the music and everything," Peter rasped through his chattering teeth. "And I forgot my earplugs."
"Well geez, Pete, I got some right here in my pocket," Tony said, frowning. He cranked up the car's heater, then reached underneath Peter's seat, pulling out a blanket and draping it across the kid's shaking shoulders. Tony had stocked all of the cars with extra hoodies and blankets after the spider bite, and they had already come in handy on several occasions. "You could've called me, buddy. I was only a couple blocks away."
"I know," answered Peter. He tightened the blanket around him, leaving only his face peeking out. "I probably should've, I'm sorry."
"Wouldn't do either of us any good to have you freeze to death," Tony grumbled as Ned opened the back seat, sliding inside with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Have a good time tonight there, Ned?"
"Absolutely, Mr. Stark!" Ned said as he fastened his seatbelt. "We had a great time, didn't we, Peter? Hey, why's it so hot in here?"
"Oh, I sometimes get chilly when I drive," answered Tony, winking in Peter's direction, his heart melting a bit at the grateful look Peter gave him. "And I think Peter inherited that particular trait from me."
"Oh, yeah," Ned said. His head was tipped back with his eyes closed, the brown fedora all askew on his head. "Peter always seems to be cold lately, so that makes sense."
The two boys were quiet for most of the ride, with Peter's shivering finally subsiding a bit by the time they arrived at Ned's house.
"See you tomorrow, Peter!" Ned called as he exited the car. "Thank you again, Mr. Stark!"
"Yeah, see ya!" answered Peter as Tony waved.
"Okay, so what happened," Tony asked as soon as he'd backed out of Ned's driveway. "Why were you sitting on the freezing front steps of that glass house when I got there?"
"I told you," Peter mumbled. "It just got too loud."
"Pete," Tony said with a sigh, draping his hand across Peter's shoulders. "You don't have to play superhero with me, I'm not one of your school friends. What happened?"
Peter dropped his head, his lower lip shaking. "I… um… it's just hard sometimes, Dad. Keeping a secret like this. I just get so tired, and—"
"I know, buddy," Tony murmured. He rubbed his fingers through the hair on the back of Peter's head, smiling when Peter tipped his head closer. "Sometimes I don't now how you do it. I can't imagine how hard that sensory overload must be to handle when it gets really bad."
"Hmph," grumbled Peter as they pulled into the Tower garage. "It's been almost a year now. I bet Steve never had this much trouble with it."
"Steve was a grown man when he got his serum," Tony said firmly. "If you can call that scrawny ass that he used to be, grown. The point is, you're not a grown man, Pete. You're still just a kid. It's not at all surprising to me that this still happens." Pushing the button for the elevator, Tony massaged the pads of his fingers a bit harder into Peter's neck and was rewarded with a contented sigh. "But somehow I don't think it was only a sensory overload that had you sitting outside. What else happened?"
But Peter only shook his head. "Can we please just get upstairs first?"
"Good grief, Pete, of course," Tony said, internally kicking himself for being so pushy. "Pepper's already asleep, so, you don't have to worry about seeing anyone else tonight."
"Thanks, Dad."
Thanks to FRIDAY the apartment was dim when the elevator doors opened. Tony gently guided Peter over to the living room couch, sitting him down and pulling another blanket out of the blanket warmer he'd had installed over in the corner. Peter pulled off his shoes, curling his feet underneath him as Tony wrapped the warm blanket around him and sat down, resuming the neck and scalp rubbing that Peter always found so relaxing.
"That better?" Tony asked quietly after a few moments.
"Loads," whispered Peter. "Thank you."
Tony's throat tightened, and he pulled Peter into his arms, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "You don't have to thank me, buddy," he said. "But I do wish you would've called me. I would've came and got you and then gone back for Ned."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry, either," insisted Tony. "Just don't ever think you're being a bother, or anything else ridiculous like that. Okay?"
"Uh huh."
"Do you wanna talk about what happened?" Tony asked gently. "I know it's late, bud, but it might help you sleep better if you get it off your chest. That's what Sam always says, at least."
Peter chuckled, smiling softly. "Yeah, he does always say that, doesn't he."
"Yeah. So…?"
Inhaling a deep breath, Peter ducked his head down, settling against Tony's chest. "At first it was just the music," he began. "It was really loud, and I guess I was more tired than I thought because of the fitness tests today. I felt a little better after I ate some pizza, but then everyone else left and I was just in the kitchen by myself. So I wandered off, trying to find somewhere a bit quieter, and I ended up running into—like, literally running into—Liz's dad."
"Oh?" Tony said. "What's he like? I've only ever seen her mom at the decathlon events."
Peter shivered, curling his slight body even more. "I dunno, Dad. I guess he was trying to be nice, he asked me my name, and even cracked a couple of jokes. But as soon as I saw him, it was as if someone had dumped ice cubes down the back of my shirt or something, and I got all goosebumpy. I dunno, there was something about him that was just creepy. He even made some comment about how it was nice of you to let me come down from the Tower and mingle with the commoners."
"Oh he did, did he?" Tony grumbled. It wasn't a new experience for Tony to meet people who instantly disliked him because of his money, but to hold that against Peter was completely unacceptable. "And what did you say to that?"
"Well, he tried to pass it off as just another joke, but it wasn't, Dad," answered Peter. "He seemed like he really didn't like you for whatever reason, and I just… it was like my sixth sense went into overdrive, and I had to get outta there."
"Mmm," Tony said, tightening his arms around Peter. "Well, it was probably good that you did when you did. But next time, call me. It's not a sign of any weakness on your part to ask for help, Pete. Especially from me."
"Uh huh," mumbled Peter.
"Good. You warmed up enough to head to bed now?"
"Yeah, I think so," said Peter, punctuating his statement with a well-timed yawn.
"All right. Go on and get ready, I'll come and tuck ya in in a few minutes."
"'Kay."
Pushing Peter up off the couch, Tony watched as the exhausted boy half-walked, half-stumbled towards his bedroom, his brow furrowing in disgust at the gall of Mr.—what was Liz's last name again? Toomes?—Mr. Toomes making some stupidly crass joke about Tony's monetary worth. People living in multi-million dollar glass houses really shouldn't throw stones.
"FRIDAY, is Rogers still awake?" Tony asked once he'd tucked Peter in and gotten himself a cup of coffee. The kid really had been tired; he'd dropped off to sleep about thirty seconds after his curly head hit the pillow.
"Yes, boss," answered FRIDAY a few seconds later. "Would you like him to come up?"
"Yeah, if he isn't busy," Tony said.
"He says he's on his way, boss," FRIDAY said. "He also mentioned having some news to share with you."
Tony raised his eyebrows. Now what? "Well, at least it hopefully won't be about Pete this time."
"I don't believe so, boss."
"Hey, Tony" Steve said as he stepped off the elevator. "I know it's late, but—"
"Nah, it's okay, old man," Tony said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting against the fatigue headache forming behind his eyes. Tony was tired; he hadn't really been sleeping all that well since he discovered Peter's little flying trapeze act, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep quite yet. It was times like this that Tony really envied the fact that Steve didn't need to sleep as much as a normal person. "I'm the one who called you first anyway."
"That's true," said Steve. "What's up?"
"Actually, why don't you tell me yours first," Tony said, turning and heading into his lab. He sank down onto the couch, leaning back and closing his eyes as Steve sat down on the opposite end. "Mine might take awhile."
"Yeah, okay," Steve said. "Well, I was watching the news tonight—"
"For a change?" asked Tony, opening one eye. "Doesn't that ever get old, Cap?"
Steve's eyebrows knitted together. "You know I like to be aware—"
"Yeah, yeah, aware of your surroundings," Tony said, huffing out a sharp breath. "Don't mind me, Cap, I'm just a bit grumpy tonight. What'd you see, anything interesting?"
"Well, yeah," answered Steve. "The anchorwoman said it was just a preliminary report, and there weren't any pictures or anything, but she said there'd been multiple reports just tonight from people calling in, saying they'd seen flashes of bright purple or pink lights in the night sky accompanied by airplane-like noises."
"Hmm. That sounds kinda like what Pete described about the weapons those thugs at the bank were using, don't you think?"
"That's exactly what I was thinking, Tony," Steve said grimly. "If someone has been stealing from Damage Control over the years, it seems like they're trying to move their merchandise pretty fast all of a sudden."
Tony's heart skipped a beat. "You're thinking that because Pete managed to disrupt someone's little bank robbery that these weapons people are starting to get twitchy?"
"It was the first time anything like that had been caught on a camera, Tony," Steve said. "And if that is the case, there's no telling how long these people have been operating under the radar."
"Goddammit," Tony whispered. "Steve, if those fuckers find out it was Pete who tried to stop them—"
"I wouldn't think there's much of a chance of that happening, Tony," Steve said quickly. "Peter never showed his face on the footage, and only a few select people even know about the spider bite, most of whom are in this Tower."
"Yeah, but who knows how many people saw him swinging across town that night on his way home? Or who saw him climbing up the side of the damn Tower? He wasn't exactly dressed in the stealthiest of colors, and anyone with half a brain could probably figure out who he was if they saw him!" Tony's heart started to race and he pressed his fist to his chest, his breaths growing shallower and shallower. "Steve, I can't have anymore lunatics coming after my boy! Not after what happened… I just can't!"
"Tony, you know we're not gonna allow anyone to come after Peter," Steve said in his Captain's voice. "If I have to ask T'Challa to send some of his army up here to protect help him, I'll do it."
"Oh, and that won't draw any attention to him at all!" snapped Tony. "Nothing like having a bunch of bald women warriors with spears marching around the halls of the high school to help a kid fit in with his peers!"
"Tony, that's not fair—!"
"God, I'm sorry!" Tony ranted. He slumped down into the couch cushions, pressing his palms into his eyes. "Cap, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"I know you didn't," Steve lamented. "And I know you're Peter's father, Tony, but don't ever forget how much the rest of us care about him too. And if there is a threat out there, then you can be sure I'm going to use whatever tools I have at my disposal to counteract that threat."
"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Tony, pushing himself back up to a sitting position. "I know, Steve. So, what should we do about this?"
Steve pursed his lips. "Well, you said Peter had an event coming up in D.C., right?"
"Yeah, the Academic Decathlon competition," answered Tony. "I've already told Peter's coach that I'll be helping to chaperone, and I'm flying the team down in the jet, too. I don't trust those school buses."
"Okay, so, I'd like to send Sam with you as well," said Steve. "That way if you do detect a threat to the Damage Control convoy, you'll have another pair of hands—"
"Don't you mean wings?"
"Hands, wings… regardless, you'll have another team member—another flyer—there to help you."
Picking up his coffee cup, Tony took a big sip, shuddering as the hot liquid burned a fiery path down his throat. "Yeah, okay, Cap. I guess that sounds fair."
"I'd tell you to not worry, but I know that would be useless," Steve said after a moment's pause. "Even though I wish it wasn't useless. If this guy is out there, Tony, we'll find him. Maybe not right way, but we will."
Tony scoffed, taking another huge gulp of his coffee. It was very unlikely that he'd be getting any sleep tonight. "I hope you're right, Cap. I really do."
So, this obviously doesn't cover the entire Homecoming arc. ;) We'll be seeing more of it in the next chapter. I know it might seem like Peter's not as involved here as he was in canon, but please try to remember how different things are here than in canon. I'm really excited about the conclusion to this arc, and I hope you guys will enjoy it as well. :)