"Mr. Stark!"
"Mr. Stark!"
"Over here!"
"One question please!"
"Mr. Stark!"
"A question Mr. Stark!"
He walked toward the podium through a cacophony of noise. All fifty chairs arranged in rows in front of him were filled with reporters all clamoring for his attention. God he hated the media. He ignored them, staying stone faced as he settled behind the podium and adjusted the microphone in front of his face.
"I have a statement." He said as he reached into his suit pocket to pull it out. "And I will not be taking any questions today."
The vultures went wild at that pronouncement, unhappy they wouldn't get to ask anything. Usually he got a kick out of answering questions because it was his opportunity to mess with them, but he wouldn't be doing that today.
He flattened the paper out on the podium in front of him and took a slow steady breath through his nose to try to quell some of the nausea. After a lick of his lips, he began.
"Today the media," he paused to look up and glare at his audience, "you people, have, without any permissions or prior knowledge on my part, announced to the world that I have a son."
Discontented murmurs echoed throughout the crowd.
"It may come as a surprise to some of you, but I'm not standing here in front of you today to deny that."
"So you're saying it's true?" One of the more annoying reporters blurted out.
He continued on as if no one had spoken at all. "I'm here in fact to confirm that Peter Parker is my son."
The crowd went wild. Most of them stood and nearly all of them started yelling out questions. His head throbbed with the noise but he waited, displaying an uncharacteristic patience, as he stared down at the printed statement in front of him instead of engaging any of the audience. After almost a minute had passed, he held up a hand for quiet. When the noise had ebbed enough, he spoke, "Like I said before, I won't be taking any questions so the sooner you settle down the sooner you can get your information and I can get on with my very busy day."
Those that hadn't already taken their seats, finally did and everyone quieted down.
"As I was saying," he continued, "Peter Parker is my son. I adopted him this past August. We do not share any biological relation."
Murmurs erupted throughout the crowd again.
"But of course that doesn't make him any less my son." He said firmly, a sentence he'd added to the original statement because he could already guess what unkind things the media would have to say tomorrow.
He continued, "I initially had the opportunity to meet Peter when he was awarded a Stark Industries internship. Since he was the first high school student to ever achieve this, I took a personal interest in his success." He'd made sure FRIDAY had fabricated the records to corroborate this exact story when Peter had first come to live with him in case the closeness of their relationship was ever questioned or went public.
"Needless to say, he's a smart kid. Smart enough to impress me." He added with a smirk. "Which as most of you know, isn't something that's easy to do."
Soft chuckles emanated from the reporters.
"So, I ended up taking him on as my personal intern. We had been working together for over a year, and we'd gotten to know each other fairly well," he continued spewing the lie without remorse, "when his guardian, his aunt, passed away. His parents had already died when he was a child, so he'd been living with her since then." Tony paused and decided to skip over the sentences mentioning Peter's uncle. Saying all his kid's losses out loud, like some kind of list, read too much like a poor orphan tale and he didn't want that. "So, since he didn't have any remaining family left…I took him in."
"Mr. Stark!"
"One question!"
"But Mr. Stark—"
He held up a hand again to silence the few reporters that had spoken up. "I know. I know. Very out of character for me. But what can I say? At the time it felt like the right thing to do, so I did it. You know I'm not exactly known for my impulse control." One side of his mouth turned up slightly and he was met by more than a few quiet laughs and mumbles of agreement.
"And I have to say it was the best decision I've ever made." He said letting out a true smile.
"Better than becoming Ironman?" One of the reporters shouted the question and he knew he should ignore it, because answering one would be inviting a flood of others, but this was a question he wanted to answer. Because he had no doubt Peter would watch this later and he wanted his kid to know the answer.
"Yes." He nodded. "Better than becoming Ironman. I can say with absolute certainty that becoming a father has been the best thing I've done with my life."
That sentence was met with another uproar but he just continued on, making his own voice louder, "I'm sure every father out there would agree."
"Anyway," he said, waving his hand in front of him as if to clear the air, "Peter's a great kid. He's like me in some ways, but not like me in all of the best ways."
"What does that mean?"
"Mr. Stark can you elaborate?"
"How is Mr. Parker not like you?"
The questions kept pouring out now.
He ignored them and kept reading, "He enjoys science and excels at it, obviously, since that's how we had the good fortune to meet. He attends one of the country's premier STEM schools, Midtown Science and Tech, as I'm sure most of you know by now because I recognize quite a few faces that were camped out there earlier today."
They glanced around the room at each other, some of them having the courtesy to look bashful.
Tony continued, "I know you're going to be disappointed, not that I care, but I'm not going to get into all the ways we're different. Suffice it to say, he's a genuinely good kid. Kind, compassionate, always upbeat and just full of life. He's had a pretty rough hand dealt to him so far, but you'd never know it. He doesn't let it keep him down."
"That sounds like a similarity between the two of you, not a difference." One journalist commented, probably hoping the unveiled compliment would make him more likely to answer a question for her later.
"Agree to disagree." He told her and looked back at his paper to keep reading. "Besides the fact that he's my kid and is on a first name basis with all the Avengers, he's a normal teenager." Another lie. "He does homework just like any other high school kid and he likes to play video games and hang out with his friends. And break his curfew." He'd added the last part to lighten the mood a little. Although it was more true for Spiderman than Peter, it wasn't like they would know. Most of them laughed.
"Anyway, I think that's enough personal details about my sixteen year old son, who I shouldn't need to remind you is a minor." He stated. "And since he is a minor, I'm asking all of you, the media, to please respect his privacy. Don't camp out outside his school. Don't harass him on the streets. I ask that you let him be so he can live his life."
Displeased murmuring came from the crowd.
"And if you choose not to listen to me and you continue to harass him like he was harassed today, know that you will be faced with the full extent of legal action at my disposal. And if that's not enough to deter you, know that all the Avengers are quite fond of my son, so you'll be faced with not only my displeasure but the rest of the team's as well. Do we understand each other?" The unveiled threat was met with complete silence for the first time since he'd walked in the room. "Good." He nodded and picked up the paper in front of him, folded it and placed it back in his pocket. "On that note, I bid you all adieu."
As he started to walk away, the plethora of shouted questions started up again, and he was barely able to discern what was being asked since it seemed like everyone in the room was talking at the same time. The noise level made his temples throb and his nausea spike again.
"Wait! Mr. Stark what's Peter's favorite color?"
"Does Peter plan to follow in your footsteps and attend MIT?"
"Is it true that you changed Peter's last name to Stark?"
"Did you adopt Peter as soon as his aunt died or did it take some time?"
"What did Peter's parents do?"
"Mr. Stark! Is Peter the heir to Stark Industries?"
That last question rang through the rest. He hadn't actually addressed it, but he hadn't thought he needed to since the answer seemed obvious to him. He paused, and after a millisecond of consideration, decided he needed to answer it. As he walked the few steps back to the podium, a hush fell over the crowd in anticipation of his answer. Leaning into the microphone, he stared directly into the gathered masses and said, "As I made abundantly clear before, Peter is my son, so of course he's the heir to Stark Industries. There shouldn't be any question about that."
At that, he turned and brusquely walked away, blocking out all the frenzied yells that followed him.
"Mr. Stark!"
"Mr. Stark!"
"Another question Mr. Stark!"
The anteroom door closed behind him as he made his escape and the thunderous noise dropped back down to a tolerable, but still annoying, hum. He let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes as he leaned against the closed door for a moment, gathering himself. When he opened his eyes again, they immediately met Pepper's gaze.
"So? How'd I do?" He asked, genuinely curious.
"Better than I thought you would."
"That's a ringing endorsement." He scoffed and rubbed at the spot between his eyes where it felt like his brain was trying to make its escape attempt.
"I think it went well." Pepper admitted. "As well as it could've gone under the circumstances."
Tony hummed in agreement. He'd given more information away about Peter than he'd wanted to, but at least it was over. Well, for the moment anyway. He knew all too well it was never going to be truly over now that the cat was out of the bag.
"Why don't you go lay down and get some more rest." Pepper suggested as he continued to rub at his forehead.
"Can't." He dropped his hand and winced as the light in the room assaulted his retinas. It seemed even brighter now than it had been before his speech. "I have to talk to Peter." He checked his watch. "He's been waiting for three hours, and he doesn't even know we're heading to the compound tonight."
"Have Happy take you at least. You're in no condition to drive."
"Yes Ms. Potts." He rolled his eyes and immediately regretted it when it worsened his nausea.
"And I'm sending Bruce up. Maybe he has something that can help. You look terrible."
"You sure say the sweetest things."
Pepper ignored the jibe. "I have to go meet with Melanie to discuss a few more things, but I'll see you bright and early at the compound tomorrow morning."
He groaned. "Can we change the early part?"
"Fine. I'll meet you at ten. Is that late enough for you?"
"I'll take it." He nodded as they walked out together and into the elevator.
"Now I just have to figure out what the hell I'm going to say to Peter." He let out a heavy sigh as the elevator started its climb.
"I'm sure you'll figure it out." Pepper gave him a reassuring smile.
"I hope so. I guess there's really no good way to explain to a teenager that their life's about to be turned completely upside down."
"He's a smart kid. I'm sure he already knows. And I think he'll be ok." Pepper said and she sounded so sure.
"How do you know?"
"He's been through a lot tougher stuff."
He nodded. That was true.
"It's all about perspective." She continued. "It's different. It's definitely going to be a big change, but it's not like anyone's dying. He'll adjust."
"I don't know…" He stared at the elevator door, trying to picture Peter's future. "I think this is going to be hard for him."
"Hard." Pepper agreed as the elevator paused to let her off. She gave him one last encouraging smile. "But not impossible."
"Right."
"Good luck." She said and walked out.
The doors closed behind her.
"Thanks." He mumbled and massaged his temples. For someone who hated asking for any kind of help, at this point he really hoped Bruce had something to help take the edge off this thing.
He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the cool metal for the rest of the short journey. When the elevator finally stopped at the penthouse, he somehow managed to garner the energy to unglue his head from the wall and step out. The lights seemed even brighter up here. He squinted and pushed his glasses higher up on his nose but that did nothing to help.
He didn't notice anyone in the living room until Steve spoke up, "Hey. We watched the press conference. You did good."
"Oh." He paused, trying to process the fact that nearly every Avenger was sitting in his living room in front of the TV. "Hey." It took his brain another second to catch up with what Steve had just said. "Thanks."
He ran a hand through his hair, "You guys didn't have anything better to do than watch that?"
"Nah, all our bags are packed and we're ready to go." Scott answered in singsong voice.
Tony snorted even though it made his head pound. "Well I still have to go talk to the kid, but then afterward we can blow this popsicle stand."
"Not going to lie, some fresh air sounds like just the thing right now." Sam said.
"You can always go outside if you want fresh air." Nat said.
"Not in New York City I can't. Taking a deep breath out there is like sniffing from an exhaust pipe."
Tony caught Nat rolling her eyes as the elevator opened and Bruce stepped out.
"Hey big green, what have you been up to?" He asked.
"I was just finishing packing up some things in my lab when Pepper said you had a migraine so I went to grab something for you." Bruce explained as he made his way toward him.
"She works fast." He said, ignoring the looks of concern the rest of his teammates threw his way.
Bruce nodded and held out a small pill pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "Try this. It should help."
"Mmhmm and is it going to knock me out?" He asked, not making any move to take it yet.
"It might." Bruce answered noncommittally, which meant yes.
"Think I'll pass."
"Tony." Bruce said with exasperation.
"Bruce."
"I'll tell Pepper." Bruce warned.
"That's below the belt."
Bruce raised an eyebrow and shoved the pill at him.
"Fine," He said as he pocketed it, "but I'm not taking it until we're on our way to the compound."
"Ok fine." Bruce gave him a nod and then found an empty spot on the sofa to sit. "So when are we leaving?"
"You guys do know you can leave whenever you want right? It's not like we're not all going to fit in one car together."
"Cap wants to take the Quinjet." Rhodey said.
Tony held his hands out in an 'ok why?' gesture.
"If we're all going to the compound one of us is going to have to fly it there anyway. We might as well all hop on board." Steve explained with a shrug. "Unless you'd rather navigate evening New York traffic."
"Uh no. Fine. We're all going in the Quinjet." Tony acquiesced. "Let me just grab my kid…and my stuff."
At least he wouldn't have to pack much. He kept his bedroom in the compound fully stocked with a closet of clothes and his bathroom filled with all the necessary toiletries. One of the perks of being a billionaire.
"So we'll meet at the Quinjet in…" Cap glanced at his watch. "Half an hour?"
The suggestion was met by nods all around.
"Fine by me." Tony gave a short nod and turned to make his way toward Peter's room. Peter should have no trouble getting ready fast since Tony also kept his room filled with clothes and toiletries just like his own. But before they could go Tony still had to talk to him and he really wasn't looking forward to that conversation, especially when it felt like his brain was trying to leak out his ears. He took another deep nausea quelling breath before rapping his knuckles lightly on Peter's door and opening it.
"Hey kid." He greeted as he walked in. Peter sat in a video game chair next to Clint, playing some new game Tony didn't recognize.
"Hey." Peter gave him a genuine smile in return. Good. At least he didn't look like the world was crashing down around him like he had before. Maybe Clint was good for something after all. He gave Clint an appreciative nod as he closed the distance between them, and Clint nodded subtly back in return before clapping his hands on his knees and standing with an exaggerated groan.
"I'm not as young as I used to be." The man complained as he stretched. "I don't know how you young 'uns sit in these torture contraptions for so long."
Peter rolled his eyes. "They're not uncomfortable. They're ergonomic."
"Erga what?" Clint teased.
"It means they're literally designed to fit your body."
"Well whoever designed this one must've missed that memo."
"Maybe it's not the chair, maybe it's just you." Peter smirked as Clint pretended to be offended.
Tony cleared his throat to get their attention, knowing that if he didn't this whole thing would devolve into a stream of endless banter.
"Sorry kid. Looks like the party pooper's here." Clint said.
Tony would've rolled his eyes but he was afraid it might make him throw up. "Yeah sorry to bust up play time, but Cap wants to meet at the Quinjet in half an hour. You heard the plan?"
Clint held up his phone in answer. "Yep."
"You packed?"
"No, but I will be in less than five minutes." Clint said with a cocky smile. Of course. Ex-SHIELD agent and all that. Probably in the required skill set.
"Well you have thirty so don't hurt yourself."
"Ha ha." Clint said dryly before turning his attention back to Peter. "Thanks for showing me the ropes on your new game kid. See you in a bit."
"No problem. Um, see you." Peter said, looking slightly confused.
Clint walked out and Peter waited for the door to shut behind him before asking, "Is there a mission?"
Tony could see in his eyes that a mission was the last thing Peter wanted to have to worry about right now, so he quickly assuaged his fears. "No."
"Then why do you and Clint need to pack and meet at the Quinjet?"
"Not just us. You too."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Why would I go to the compound and leave you behind?" He teased.
"We're going to the compound? Why?" Peter frowned and then answered his own question before Tony had a chance to respond. "It's because of me isn't it? Because of this media stuff."
The crestfallen look on Peter's face made Tony wish he could invent time travel just so he could go back and prevent that first picture from ever getting taken of the two of them together so none of this would've happened.
"Nah Sam's missing nature. Wants some fresh air." He waved his hand dismissively.
"It's the middle of winter."
"I didn't say it made any sense. You know Sam doesn't most of the time either." He shrugged.
"It's because of me." Peter asserted. "I know you're trying to like save my feelings or whatever but please don't lie to me."
"I'm not. Sam really did say he wanted some fresh air. Ask him."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Ok fine, but that's not the reason we're going."
"Hmm…no." He admitted and maneuvered himself down into the video game chair Clint had vacated. God, the thing really was killer on the back. And the knees. Feathers for brains hadn't actually been kidding for once.
"Just admit it. It's because of this whole mess." Peter said and it sounded like he was daring him to disagree.
"Yes." Tony rubbed at his forehead. "Things aren't exactly great right now and the compound is more remote which makes it a better spot to be at the moment. It's more…away…from all of this."
"You mean it's safer." Peter challenged.
"Yes, it's safer." He wasn't going to sugarcoat it even though he knew Peter wouldn't like it.
Peter scoffed. "How come whenever anything bad happens your default is to freak out and treat me like some kind of damsel in distress that needs to be wrapped in bubble wrap and hidden away?"
"I don't."
"You do. It's like you completely forget I'm Spiderman and that I can take care of myself."
Tony held his tongue even though he itched to name several examples when that hadn't been true. He let out a heavy sigh instead and pinched at the skin between his eyes. Sometimes that helped when he had a headache, but this time it didn't make so much as a dent in it. "I don't want to fight kid. I honestly don't have it in me right now."
"You have a headache." Peter stated.
Tony dropped his hand. "How do you know that?"
"There are certain things you do when you get them." Peter copied the pinching motion he'd just been doing.
Tony hummed. It wasn't surprising Peter had picked up on that.
"You've been getting them a lot more lately."
Which was true, but Tony hadn't even noticed that pattern himself until Peter had just pointed it out.
"Maybe." He admitted.
"This one seems worse than usual." Peter said with a frown.
"I've had better and I've had worse." He said noncommittally. It wasn't exactly untrue. He'd had worse, but not in a very long time. But he didn't need to tell his kid that.
"Is there anything I can do?" Peter asked quietly, correctly assuming that sound wasn't his best friend at the moment.
God, Peter really was the best. Everything was a complete shit show for him right now, but because his dad had a headache, he was just going to put it on the back burner.
"Honestly?"
Peter nodded eagerly.
"Can we just go to the compound tonight and have this big talk tomorrow? When it doesn't feel like Thor is slamming Mjolnir into my skull." He probably shouldn't have admitted that.
"Sure. Of course." Peter agreed quickly.
"Ok." He sighed again and tried to stand but the chair rolled forward and then backward with him and he went nowhere. Great. He was stuck in the ergonomic chair from hell. He was never getting into one of these things again. As he took a breath and prepared to set aside his ego and ask his kid for help, Peter vaulted out of his own chair with the ease of youth and held his hand out.
"Need a hand?" Peter asked, making an obvious effort to keep a straight face.
Tony gave him a wry grin. "Apparently."
Peter grabbed his hand and easily hauled him up and out of the chair and onto his feet.
Tony held up a finger in warning and said, "Don't ever tell Clint that happened. I'd never live it down."
Peter mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key.
Tony snorted. "Cute." The pain in his head seemed to be getting worse by the minute, which he hadn't thought possible. His hand sunk into his pocket and clasped the pill. Maybe he'd just take it now. It'd take at least half an hour to start to kick in but by then they'd already be on the Quinjet and it was only a twenty minute ride so he'd probably still be functional enough to make it to his room once they got there.
"You okay?" Peter asked.
Tony blinked a couple times, realizing he'd spaced out. "Yeah. Fine. Just, uh, pack a bag. You don't have to bring a lot. You've got plenty of clothes at the compound. But you should probably bring your school stuff and anything else you can't live without."
"Ok." Peter nodded but still watched him warily as if he was worried he was going to fall to the floor or something.
"I'm just going to go pack my stuff, but I'll come get you when I'm done."
"Ok. Um, are you sure you're all right? You look kind of pale."
He gave Peter a reassuring smile even as he suddenly felt himself losing the battle against his nausea. "Yeah. Don't worry. It's just a headache."
Peter nodded in begrudging acceptance and Tony did his best to high tail it out of there without it looking like that's what he was doing. The moment Peter's bedroom door closed behind him he sprinted to his own room. He made it to his bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet just in time to lose the meager contents of his stomach.
Shit. Too late for that pill now.
A/N: I read through this chapter and edited it way too many times and I'm still not sure I'm perfectly happy with it but enough is enough, so I just decided to bite the bullet and finally post it. Ta da! Sorry for the long wait again. All I can say is that between staying home all day with my one year old and working evenings and weekends it leaves very little time for writing.