"So how was your summer?" Ned asked as he neatly stowed away his belongings in his locker, closing it with a decisive click.

Peter's lips curled into a grin as he reminisced about the past couple of months. Walking alongside Ned towards the Decathlon club room, he recounted some of the highlights,

"Spent most of it at the lakehouse with Dad. But, we also made a few trips to the compound. Got to hang out with the gang quite a bit," Peter smiled as he reminisced, "Then we took some time to visit the families the foundation was helping out in Sokovia and Johannesburg. Dad was really big on making sure they were doing okay after everything that went down. It was eye-opening but also rewarding."

Despite their best efforts to assist in Sokovia, Peter's expression grew sombre as he recalled how some continued to blame Tony Stark for the catastrophe. While many were grateful for the aid provided, there remained a faction that held Stark responsible for events beyond his control, for the events that wrought destruction.

Peter could see the weight in his father's eyes, a reflection of the lingering burden from the Ultron offensive. Despite Tony's efforts to conceal it, the guilt still lingered, stemming from his role in creating Ultron and the tragic loss of innocent lives that followed.

"Mr. Stark's really so generous, Peter," Ned reassured Peter with a smile. Mr. Stark had always treated him like family whenever he was at the Stark household.

Peter's face lit up with warmth at the thought of his dad, "He is."

His Dad, Tony Stark truly had the biggest heart of them all. He'd already given so much and continued to give without expecting anything in return. Peter couldn't help but feel proud to have him as a father and a role model.

As they entered the club room, the familiar sight of their batch mates greeted them. Some were huddled in small groups, absorbed in their own activities, while others lounged lazily in their seats, waiting for the coach to arrive.

Upon spotting Peter, Flash's eyes widened in disbelief, and he shot up from his seat, addressing Liz with a mixture of shock and confusion, "Parker?" he called out incredulously, "How is he here?"

Liz rolled her eyes, irritation evident in her voice, "I should be the one asking you that, Flash." she retorted before turning her attention back to Cindy, her tone implying that the topic was not up for further discussion.

"Really, Flash? You have to ask? Come on." Abe, a fellow classmate from their history class, retorted as he brushed past them to take his seat, "Peter's the valedictorian of our class, for crying out loud. He's earned his place here more than any of us."

Flash sank back into his seat, his expression darkening with frustration. Several minutes later, Mr. Harrington made his entrance, introducing himself as their Decathlon coach and outlining the details for their upcoming practice sessions leading up to the Nationals.

"Academic Decathlon, Robotics, Chemistry Club, the Orchestra, homework, and studying for SAT's, it's quite the balancing act you've got here, Peter. You sure you can juggle all of these?"

Tony flipped through the papers required for Peter's after-school commitments, wondering why his son was so eager to add more to his plate when his academic prowess already shone brightly. He worried that Peter might be stretching himself too thin.

"Why take on so much? Your academic record is impressive as it is. I just don't want you to burn out," Tony expressed, a hint of concern lacing his words.

Peter shrugged, a determined glint in his eye, "The more entries, the more chances of winning. I'm not the only one having that many, Dad. And piano practice at the orchestra goes only twice per week."

He'd played the piano since he was barely five, his fingers dancing effortlessly over them, mastering the art of learning by ear.

Midtown High felt like a gladiatorial arena for the academically inclined, where almost every student proudly wore the badge of a self-proclaimed nerd, each with their own quirky side hustle. Even as freshmen, they were like guided missiles, dead set on hitting their mark— an Ivy League education in the future.

"What happens if I don't sign these? You know MIT will still accept you even though you're short in extracurriculars. Just state that you've worked with me, with Banner, you're off the hook."

Peter couldn't help but stifle a laugh, "Come on, Dad. Like being your intern since I was four?"

"Exactly," Tony retorted with a grin.

Peter almost rolled his eyes at the thought, "That's nuts."

Growing up, he had the privilege of witnessing Tony Stark in action, building cutting-edge technology from scratch. He knew the perks of being the son of a genius multi-billionaire, but he didn't want anything to be handed to him just because he was a Stark. Academically, if he was going to achieve something, he wanted to do it his way.

As Pepper placed the final dish on the dinner table, they settled in for their meal, a ritual they made sure to observe together every evening, "I'm sure he can handle those, Tony. Having extracurriculars shows you're capable and dedicated, it demonstrates initiative."

"Well, that's a first," Tony's sudden exclamation elicited a sharp glare from Pepper, a role reversal in their typical dynamic.

Usually, it was Pepper who voiced concerns about his son's safety, but now the tables had turned.

Pepper's hand tenderly brushed against Peter's cheek,

"Just remember not to push yourself too hard, sweetheart."

As they enjoyed their meal, Peter's attention was drawn to the muted local news playing on the television, where the headline announced yet another robbery in Queens. It made him wonder who was safeguarding the innocent victims in his childhood neighbourhood, especially when the superheroes he knew were often occupied with global threats.

"That's the second time this week," Peter said, his concern obvious.

Pepper and Tony swivelled their heads to what Peter's talking about.

"Can't the Avengers lend a hand, Dad?" Peter asked, voicing his thoughts.

Tony and Pepper exchanged a knowing glance before Tony turned his gaze to Peter,

"You see bud, there's people who handle those sorts of things. We have the Police and FBI. We don't want these people to lose their jobs, don't we? Don't worry, I'll make sure Damage Control also gets on top of it." Tony reassured.

"I'll make sure the relief foundation helps as well," Pepper added, a warm smile gracing her lips.

Rhodes made his way toward Tony's lab within the compound. Although his best friend rarely visited the new team, whenever he did, he brought with him significant advancements in their suits and technology, providing the team's needs. Something that they're grateful for.

Tony's version of "tapping out" simply meant prioritizing his innovations over their missions.

As Rhodes entered the lab, he spotted Tony's back, sitting at one of the tables.

Without bothering to knock, he walked across the room.

"Tony, have you been waiting long? Sorry, Sam got me preoccupied with this Antman."

Peter's brows furrowed in confusion, Dad's not here yet. He stood up, gaze settling on his Uncle Rhodes.

Rhodes stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in recognition. "Oh my god, Peter, is that you?" he exclaimed, taking a step closer to examine the teenager standing before him.

He walked close inspecting Peter's features, memories flooding back of the kid he'd treated like a godson over the years, "A year and you've grown this much," he admired, a smile spreading across his face, "I thought you were Tony for a moment, especially with those glasses. Look at you, already taller than me."

"I missed you too, Uncle." Peter chuckled, noting Uncle Rhodes' surprised reaction before enveloping him in a warm hug. Earlier, Steve and Aunt Nat had shared the same delighted response.

"Oh good, you're here already," Tony's voice echoed through the lab as he strode in their direction, "Let me guess, you thought I was this handsome young kid."

"I can't believe it, this is exactly what you looked like when we first met," Rhodes said with a mixture of nostalgia and jest, sharing a familiar half-brotherly hug with Tony.

"Who's Antman?" Peter asked, curious about someone naming themselves after an ant.

"Just some guy who infiltrated the compound," Sam said, entering the lab.

Rhodey smirked teasingly, "And kicked your ass."

"So he's also a superhero? Cool!" Peter's eyes lit up with curiosity, eager to know more.

"No, not cool. Don't tell Cap about this." Sam said, cautioning.

"Tell me what?" Cap's voice from the back suddenly made Sam jump slightly, eliciting laughter from everyone.

Their afternoon continued as Tony demonstrated the improvements he made on the War Machine armour and some new tech for the team to use.

"Hey, Dad... Whoa."

Peter stepped into the lab, his after-school routine disrupted by an unexpected sight. Instead of the familiar scientific equipment, he was met with the sight of his late Grandma's grand piano. Memories flooded back as he recalled its destruction years ago when his father had crash-landed onto it in Malibu. Bewildered, he couldn't help but wonder why it was here now, resurrected from its past ruin.

"We should get going, Maria. Wake him up."

His head snapped in the direction of the voice, goosebumps prickling his skin as he struggled to process the scene unfolding before him, his grandfather approaching him, while his grandmother made her way to the piano.

"What— what, what's happening?" Peter said, his voice tinged with disbelief and shock as he struggled to make sense of the scene unfolding before him. He grappled with the possibility of whether he should trust his own eyes.

A low groan jolted him, drawing his attention to the sofa where a younger version of his dad, bearing an uncanny resemblance to himself, stirred awake. He really couldn't believe how much they looked alike.

Peter's mind spun with confusion, unable to form coherent words as he grappled with the notion that he might have somehow stumbled into an alternate reality or time-travelled without warning.

"I'm here, Pete." his father's voice echoed through the room.

Pete turned to see his dad standing there, a flood of relief washing over him.

In an instant, the whole old ambiance was gone. He could see the lab again and with a few things that resembled an all-white living room.

"That's grandpa and grandma and you! Just younger!" Pete said, his eyes wide with wonder.

"It's just a memory, or more accurately, my imagination at work. I'm still refining it though. One of our scientists had this brilliant idea, but he couldn't get it started, so I made some tweaks. Upgraded it," his dad explained.

"I thought I was seeing a ghost or transported into another dimension. It looks amazingly real Dad! So real, it's almost creepy."

"Sorry, I startled you bud. So, how are you? How's school?"

"Same, same," Peter replied nonchalantly as he reached into his backpack, pulling out a piece of paper and waving it in front of Tony.

Tony snatched the paper and scanned its contents.

"We have another field trip on Friday, something on this new museum. Some exhibits from World War II and Cap's new exhibit will be there, I think."

"Museum of Science Discovery. Isn't this that new museum on the other end of the island? And your teachers call this a field trip?" Tony chuckled, incredulous.

Seeing as there's no harm in seeing science artifacts, he proceeded to sign the consent form.

"Europe or Asia, now that would be a real field trip," Tony added with a nostalgic smile, his mind drifting to old memories.

As Tony handed back the signed waiver, he noticed Peter's hesitancy, "Okay, what is it?"

"I uhh.. can I uh, just ride the subway back home, please? I'll be fine Dad, I promise."

Tony stared at Peter's hopeful eyes. The kid really missed taking the subway. It wasn't just about transportation for his kid, it was a slice of normalcy he craved. At the start of the school year, Peter had pleaded to take the subway home every day, but Tony couldn't overlook the risks. They weren't your average commuters, after all. So, despite Peter's requests, Tony stood firm, insisting that either he or Happy would handle the pickups, ensuring Peter's safety in a world far from ordinary.

After a moment of consideration, "Yeah okay, I guess you can."

Peter's eyes lit up and cheerfully finished the last of his homework in the lab.

As the day drew to a close, Tony set a small case in front of Peter and popped it open. Peter's curiosity ignited at the sight of a gleaming Rolex wristwatch nestled inside. Was this a belated graduation present? Or perhaps a delayed birthday gift? After all, Dad had already showered him with presents— a new telescope and a luxurious yacht cruise through Greece and Italy.

"Is this a post-birthday gift? Cause Dad you don't have to. I still have my watch and it works just as good."

Though Peter did own a few timepieces, none matched the sophistication of this Rolex or the ones Dad possessed.

"Nope, that yacht was your birthday gift. This is just your new piñata for a cricket."

"Wait? What?" Peter shot up from his seat, his eyes widening in disbelief, "That yacht is mine?" When they had gone to Europe for his birthday for a week, he'd simply assumed Dad had rented it for their stay. Boarding it, he never imagined it was a gift for him – it was one of the most beautiful boats he'd ever seen.

Tony retrieved the watch and slipped it onto Peter's wrist. "Well, I thought you already knew. And this isn't just any wristwatch, it's somewhat like my gauntlet."

After Tony double-tapped the watch, it assembled into an armoured glove around Peter's hand, leaving him in disbelief as his jaw dropped,

"Whoa, this is... this is the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"

"As we've discussed before, you'll only use this when absolutely necessary. Last minute option, only when I'm not around to protect you, capishe?"

Tony upgraded Peter's defence toy into something wearable, recognizing that relying on pulling it out of a backpack could be inefficient, especially in life-or-death situations.

With enemies lurking everywhere, Peter, as Tony's only heir, was a potential target for those seeking to harm Tony. Tony couldn't allow that to happen again.

"Capishe. Oh my god, Dad. This is so cool! Thank you!"

Tony chuckled as he watched Peter's eyes sparkle with excitement while he demonstrated the capabilities of the glove.

Peter couldn't contain his joy. As a child, he had an Iron Man helmet and a makeshift repulsor glove, and now, he held a real Iron Glove in his hands. Though not identical, it carried a resemblance that filled him with nostalgia. After years of wanting his own Iron Gauntlet, his dad had finally gifted him one.

Growing up surrounded by superheroes, with his own father being one, Peter idolized them all. Despite knowing he could never truly become one of them, a nagging thought persisted at the back of his mind—the possibilities, the 'what ifs.'

Would it be too wrong to dream of being one?

The electrifying chords of "Shoot to Thrill" jolted Peter awake like a lightning bolt. The rock anthem blared through his room, shaking the very air around him.

Grumbling at the assault of his alarm, set to the tune of his favorite rock song, he buried his head under the pillows in an attempt to block out the noise. But with each passing second he lingered in bed, the volume seemed to only get louder.

What was once a cherished track shared between him and his dad was quickly turning into his most loathed sound. Burning the midnight oil to tackle his multitude of assignments seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he was starting to question the wisdom of juggling schoolwork and club commitments simultaneously.

"Okay, okay. Friday, cut it out. I'm awake," Peter said, slouching with heavy eyelids as he dragged himself out of bed towards the bathroom.

With his eyes half-closed, he stumbled his way through the room, guided by the gentle hum of morning light pouring in through the automatic blinds, revealing a breathtaking sunrise.

"Good morning, Peter. Today's weather in New York is a comfortable 65 degrees with scattered clouds. There's a high chance of rain later, so don't forget your umbrella," Friday chimed in cheerfully.

"Kay, Thanks, Fri," Peter replied from the shower, quickly getting himself ready for the day ahead. Unlike Jarvis, whose manners echoed that of a British butler, Friday's Irish accent and friendly tone made him feel like he was chatting with an old friend.

As Peter emerged from his room, he found his Dad and Pepper already enjoying their morning coffee. He greeted them with a smile and exchanged kisses on their cheeks.

"Good morning sweetheart, I heard you're going to see some dinosaurs today," teased Pepper, prompting a chuckle from Tony.

Peter rolled his eyes at his dad as he munched on some toast. He had never been to this museum before, the only ones he'd visited were the ones in Europe and the ones in DC during his childhood while waiting for his dad to finish meetings.

It struck him as ironic how having a nearby attraction meant you never really decided to explore it, always assuming you could visit anytime. Mr. Harrington mentioned they were going to see 8 exhibits.

"You know we're heading out to Malibu today right, bud? We'll be in DC by the afternoon until the day after tomorrow to finalize the transition. You'll have the Tower all to yourself this weekend, so feel free to invite some friends over if you want."

It's already been a year since they started transitioning all of the operations from Malibu to be moved to the Tower and the new Stark HQ in DC. It's getting hard for Pepper to travel back and forth between the East and West Coast every week so Tony decided to just bring it closer to home.

As they neared the school, Peter caught sight of his classmates and the line of yellow buses already waiting. They parked a short distance away from the bustling crowd. Peter said his goodbyes and planted a quick kiss on Pepper's cheek before stepping out of the car.

Tony emerged from the car too, acknowledging Ned with a wave. Some students even waved back, excited to see Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, so early in the morning.

"Get back home safe, okay?" Tony said, pulling Peter into a tight hug.

"Always do. Love you, Dad," Peter replied, feeling warmth in his heart as his dad kissed the top of his head,

"I love you, bud. I'll see you Sunday."

With that, Peter made his way towards his classmates while the car headed off to the airport where the jet awaited.

"It would've been awesome if the SHIELD's Academy for Science and Tech was still around. I'd definitely apply," Ned said, trying to spark conversation as they strolled into the third exhibit at the museum. With a yawn, he added, "All this history stuff about the War is cool and all, but I'm starting to zone out. Are you actually snapping pics of those artifacts, or just using it as an excuse to capture Liz?"

"What? No way! I'm just snapping shots for the school paper, you know," Peter retorted as he clicked away on his camera.

"And besides, isn't it true that SHIELD only recruits people with doctorates?" he added, capturing another set of photos.

Ned chimed in excitedly, "We could totally pull that off! Imagine us as agents, using our smarts to save the world. Not telekinetically though, just our brains and stuff."

Peter furrowed his brow in confusion, his lips twisting into a puzzled frown. "Dude, what are you talking about?" he said but continued snapping pictures.

"Oh, I forgot you can't be an agent, you'll be the next Tony Stark," Ned chimed in casually, causing Peter to pause mid-click.

"There's no next Tony Stark, Ned. Tony Stark will always just be my dad," Peter replied, a hint of emotion underlying his words.

Ned shrugged nonchalantly. "If you say so."

The next exhibits passed by in a blur. They even stopped at Captain America's exhibit, where the students gained a deeper understanding of Steve's role in the success of their win during the war.

As they listened to the tour guide drone on about scientific works, something familiar caught Ned's attention. He quickly reached out to tug at Peter's shirt before he could wander off with the rest of the group.

"Hey, Peter, check it out. Your mom's name is right here."

Peter squinted at the engraved name, hardly daring to believe it. "Mary Fitzpatrick Parker" it read, nestled among outdated documents and frames.

"Why didn't I know my mom's work would be showcased here?" Peter wondered aloud.

Beside her name was a small picture of his mom and stepdad, part of a research team.

Mary Fitzpatrick, Ph.D. in Genetic Biochemistry and Engineering.

He examined everything with fascination. Among the sketches, one item stood out— a lone preserved dead spider encased in a frame. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.

"Dad's never going to believe this," he murmured to himself, reaching for his phone. With a quick swipe, he activated the camera, preparing to share his discovery with his dad.

"Hey, Dad, you have to see this," he began, addressing the camera as if speaking directly to his dad, "Mom's works are here, this is so cool! Ned, look here. Gonna show this to my Dad later."

Just then, Mr. Harrington appeared, finally locating his missing students. "Peter, Ned, what are you two up to over here? Come on, everyone's enjoying the immersive exhibit. You don't want to miss out."

"We're coming, Sir! Come on, Peter," Ned urged, grabbing Peter's arm.

But Peter remained rooted to the spot. "You go ahead. I've got to snap a picture of this. I've never seen anything like it before. Dad will flip when he sees it. He'll definitely want to retrieve it."

"Alright, but make it quick. I'll cover for you," Ned replied.

"Thanks, Ned."

Peter hurriedly snapped photos of the sketches. However, he found himself puzzled by the cryptic writing accompanying it as if it were encoded somehow.

"I wonder what Mom's been up to," he said to himself, intrigued.

He aimed his camera at the small frame, focusing on the spider, but just as he clicked, the flash unexpectedly went off, turning the photo completely white.

"Oops, forgot to change the settings."

Determined to get the shot right, he tried again, this time disabling the flash. But as he peered at the frame, he froze in confusion.

"What…"

Where had the spider gone?

He reached out to touch the frame, though he knew he wasn't supposed to touch anything in the exhibit. Yet, there was no trace of the spider.

Glancing around, he realized he was alone. No one could have snatched the spider in the blink of an eye.

A shiver rippled down his spine, sending sudden goosebumps crawling across his skin. Though not one to easily succumb to fear, he couldn't shake the unsettling sensation.

Instinctively, he began to step back, slipping his phone into his pocket. But before he could turn around, a sharp, stinging pain stung the back of his head as if he'd been pricked.

"Ow!"

With a hiss of discomfort, he reached to the source of the pain, finding a thin strand of silk clinging to the bitten spot. He plucked it away, examining it in disbelief,

"A spider web? How come?"

Staring at the delicate thread in his hand, he wondered if that spider did this.

But how did that spider suddenly come back to life?

How on earth did that happen?

How did it get out of the frame?

But how could it have crawled its way out if it's dead already?

"This is really really weird," he said, feeling his heart race and a torrent of unanswered questions flood his mind.

As he turned to leave, a soft crackle underfoot made him freeze, "Oh no no no no."

Checking his sole, he confirmed his assumptions.

"Great, now I've killed Mom's spider. I'm so sorry, Mom."

I'm a spider killer, he face palmed.

"Peter? You're still in here? Next Exhibit's halfway over," Mr. Harrington's voice interrupted a hint of disappointment in his tone, seeing his best student missing the experience.

Peter hurried towards his teacher, rubbing the back of his neck where he had been bitten, trying to relieve the mark.

When was the last time he took the subway? He couldn't recall. Yet, as he glanced around, he noticed little had changed. The same familiar train rolled along the tracks, and passengers remained absorbed in their own worlds.

He was still a few stations away from the stop he needed to get off at. Minutes ticked by, but it started to feel like hours.

Why does it always feel like an eternity when I'm waiting and hurrying to something?

As the sky started to darken against the towering skyscrapers, he realized Friday was right, it was starting to rain.

Now's not the right time to feel this. He'd been feeling weird, and he couldn't explain it. Ever since the end of their field trip, he'd been feeling chilly.

At first, he thought maybe it was just the approaching autumn chill, but then he also started to sweat profusely. He was supposed to have plans with Ned to go to Queens and hang out before going back to the Tower, but he had to cancel last minute.

More people started to come as the rush hour emerged. He closed his eyes to relax.

Nope, I am not gonna throw up in here.

As much as he liked to sit still and ease the growing headache he had been feeling, he couldn't. The more crowded it became, the heavier he felt.

A pregnant lady stood in front of him, and he gave up his seat. So he stood, clinging to one of the bar handles as if his life depended on it. The train's screeching and bumping only made it worse.

One more station.

One more station and you're going to get out of this.

This is the worst day to take the Subway and have the flu.

Just the flu, he kept telling himself.

Stepping out of the train and facing a flight of stairs to escape the underground enveloped him like an eternity of torture. Every step felt like pins and needles and his vision began to double.

What is this? Why am I feeling like this?

What is happening to me?

Dad. I have to call Dad.

He fumbled through his pockets, a pang of panic hitting him as his fingers brushed against nothing but fabric. His phone wasn't there. He opened his backpack and finally found it.

13 missed calls from Dad.

His hands trembled, a mix of cold, rain-soaked chill, and the fever coursing through his veins. Another call buzzed insistently, but before he could even attempt to answer, it slipped from his grasp, meeting the unforgiving brick pavement below with a sickening crack.

"No please no..." His voice was barely a whisper as he retrieved the shattered device, attempting to restore it back to life. But it was beyond repair now.

One singular thought pulsed through his mind: Home.

He swayed forward, each step heavier than the last, rain pouring down relentlessly.

"Boy, are you okay?"

Peter gasped for air, glancing up to meet the concerned gaze of an elderly man offering assistance.

"Yeah, yeah, I am. Thank you."

The nice gentleman retrieved his umbrella, and Peter pushed himself upright, summoning every ounce of strength to continue.

He hustled down the sidewalk, trying to keep a straight path and picking up speed. The Tower loomed just a block away, but reaching it seemed to stretch the distance like a mirage in the desert, always just out of reach.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stark." greeted a pair of guards as they swung open the lobby doors, welcoming him inside.

That's not me. That's my Dad. Speaking of Dad, if he finds out I'm feeling like this, I'm in trouble. He's got enough on his plate without worrying about me again.

He moved slowly towards the private elevator, barely acknowledging the greetings and worried looks from the people in the lobby. Normally, he'd exchange greetings with everyone, but today he just didn't have the energy.

"Hey, Fri..." Peter murmured weakly as he sank into a seat on the floor of the elevator, letting out a sigh as it ascended.

Instead of the usual cheery greeting from Friday upon his return from school, Peter was met with a concerned tone, tinged with a hint of fear. For a moment, he wondered if he was hearing things.

"Peter! Your temperature's spiking way beyond normal human limits. This shouldn't be happening—"

Only half of what Friday said registered in his mind. All he wanted right now was to sleep.

"Mr. Stark's on his way, Peter. Your watch gave us an alert of your vitals. He's already left DC since you've taken the subway. His ETA is within 10 minutes. We've been trying to contact you on your phone but you're not answering the whole time. Please try not to fall asleep. Emergency services are also already on their way."

The elevator dinged as it reached the penthouse. Peter struggled to stand, ended up flopping back down, resigned to crawling out. He felt like he'd seen this kind of scenario before.

"I want to sleep now, Fri."

Laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling as his vision gobbled, Friday's anxious words started to sound like gibberish.

His eyelids grew heavier. He wanted to stay awake, but everything else began to shut down until it was all pitch black.

Tony gazed out at the silhouette of the DC skyline, his mind a whirl of thoughts as Pepper launched into another round of their familiar disagreement. They'd crossed this terrain countless times before, and Tony felt the weariness settle in, exacerbated by the day's marathon of meetings and preparations for the launch of the new HQ in DC. Cut me some slack, Pep.

Pepper's voice pierced through his reverie, sharp with frustration. "Are you even listening to me, Tony?"

Tony turned to face her, meeting her agitated gaze head-on. "Are you? Because, Pepper, you know I can't give this up."

Once again, the subject of the arc reactor reared its head—a contentious issue that seemed to define their dynamic nowadays. Tony understood Pepper's concerns and recognized the missteps he'd made because of it, yet couldn't fathom giving up the one thing he believed kept his loved ones safe.

Before Pepper could launch into her rebuttal, an alarm blared from Tony's phone, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Tony's disbelief was seen as he stared at the screen,

"This can't be right."

Tony observed Peter's vitals flashing in red alert. Though not accustomed to monitoring his son's every move, he had given him the watch as a precaution, to signal if Peter's in danger.

Sensing something wrong, Pepper spoke up, her concern evident, "What's wrong?"

"I have to go," Tony responded swiftly, planting a kiss on her cheek before she could respond. With the suit already in motion, he was off in an instant.

Tony's flying thrice as fast. Perfect timing that a couple weeks ago he upgraded a brand new booster to his repulsors. Attempting to reach Peter, he dialled his son's number repeatedly, only to be met with voicemail.

Peter's vitals continued to spike on the monitor, far beyond what a normal human body could withstand. Tony's mind raced, questioning the decision to allow Peter on the field trip that led to this crisis.

What happened on that field trip?

He shouldn't have agreed to let Peter on that!

What did his son do?

Why wasn't I in New York of all places?

Tony landed at the Penthouse on the shortest amount of travel time possible from DC to NYC in exactly ten minutes.

"Peter!"

His heart stopped for a beat when he saw Peter's pale, limp body lying on the floor. Rushing to his side, he gently lifted Peter, noticing the pain etched on his child's face even in sleep,

"Pete, wake up," he urged, carefully carrying him to the bed.

Tony's heart raced, his hands trembling with nerves as Peter remained unresponsive. Earlier, he had convinced himself everything would be fine, but now, faced with his son's fragility, his resolve wavered. Peter was his strength and weakness, and seeing him like this shattered Tony's.

Peter was supposed to be safe.

"Pete, come on. Fri, give me a scan— look for anything unusual. Where's that damn ambulance? They should be here by now!" Tony's voice rose with panic. He wasn't one to stammer, but he felt helpless.

He couldn't afford to break down, but he didn't know what to do. Bruce wasn't even here to help him. They needed a doctor, and they needed one now.

"There's been a massive collision on the fifth on the way here. No cars can pass not even the ambulance. I've contacted another hospital, Sir, the air ambulance is now on its way. Upon scanning, there's a bite mark on the back of Peter's neck."

Tony immediately checked and indeed, there it was, halfway faded but unmistakable.

Was his son poisoned? What kind of creature could have done this? And where did he encounter it? He needed more information, details only Peter could provide.

He quickly requested antidotes from Friday and accessed Peter's photo gallery on the cloud. After a brief scan, he found a video recorded earlier and hit play. His eyes widened in shock.

"How on earth, in a public museum of all places. Goddammit!"

This can't be happening. No, Mary. You can't do this to your son.

"Friday, stop the chopper, tell them Peter's already stable. Get Dr. Palmer on the line— I need her here ASAP."

I need someone I can trust and I can't let Peter go to any hospital right now. I don't need them to treat my child as a walking experiment.

He gently stroked his son's hair, closing his eyes as he placed a tender kiss on his forehead.

If that spider bit Peter, he could only hope that his son would be able to survive it, that his body could handle it. He didn't know what that spider could do or what it would do to his son.

But one thing was for sure, he knew Mary wouldn't let his son die, or so he hoped.