Summary: I already gave you spoilers so I'll skip the summary for this chapter.
Chapter 16: Call Dad
Two and a half months had passed since Peter—or, as he kept reminding himself, Aidan—had tried to let go of being Spiderman. The first few weeks? Absolute torture. It was like going through full-on superhero withdrawal. Every morning, he'd wake up with this unstoppable urge to throw on a disguise, hop out a balcony, and just… go save someone.
The worst part was hearing sirens in the distance, which set his legs twitching like they were already planning an escape route. His brain would start spinning elaborate plans: grab a ski mask, head down to Queens, avoid main streets, stick to sketchy alleyways, maybe catch a thief or two—just a quick swing through the city, and he'd be back at the Tower before anyone noticed he was gone. What could go wrong?
But then, with a groan, he'd remind himself: You promised Dad. You're officially on web-slinging hiatus. Not that he'd had much say in making that promise, but he knew exactly what would happen if he broke it—another "talk" with his dad that would leave him regretting every rebellious thought he'd ever had. That particular image was usually enough to deflate his craving for crime-fighting.
So, Peter would take a deep breath, give himself a little pep talk, and remind himself that he just had to hold out for four more years. Four years until he was an adult, and Queens could have its friendly neighborhood Spiderman back. As Cap always said, the city would survive without him… probably.
And, honestly, it did get easier over time. Living at the Tower with the Avengers kept him so busy that he hardly had time to think about sneaking out. Some days, he still couldn't believe it: he was living with the Avengers, and somehow, they'd all managed to become a part of his daily life in ways he hadn't even known he needed.
Three times a week, Steve had FRIDAY wake Peter up at what felt like the crack of dawn for their morning runs. Peter would drag himself out of bed, half-asleep and grumbling, throw on a cap, and head out with Steve to a nearby park. They'd keep their pace just slow enough to avoid drawing too much attention—no superspeed sprints here. Peter secretly loved the fresh air and having Steve as a running buddy, and they'd chat about everything from school to missions. He soaked up every bit of Steve's advice.
On Fridays, they'd hit the Tower gym instead. Peter would never forget the look of shock on Steve's face the first time he watched him lift even heavier weights than Steve could. It was a moment Peter replayed in his mind whenever he needed a boost of confidence.
Peter stayed busy after school, too. Mondays and Wednesdays were set aside for Academic Decathlon meets with Ned, MJ, and—most importantly—Liz Allan. MJ took Decathlon very seriously, and as co-captain, she kept the team in line. But Peter was way more focused on the other co-captain: Liz. Peter realized he had a crush on her in December. She was not only the junior class president, but she was smart, confident, and, well… really pretty.
Every time Liz smiled or said hi to him, Peter's brain would instantly short-circuit. He'd go bright red, practically tongue-tied, struggling to remember how to form coherent sentences. It was embarrassing, sure—but honestly? Peter didn't mind. As long as he got to be on the team with Liz, he'd sit through all of MJ's endless drills; he'd study flashcards until he knew them backward if it meant getting to spend just a little more time with her.
Then came Tuesdays and Thursdays—workshop time with his dad, which quickly became his favorite part of the week. A month ago, Tony had started letting him work on the Iron Man suits, giving Peter hands-on experience with systems he'd only ever dreamed of. And every time he walked into the workshop, it hit him all over again: his dad was Iron Man. He'd be in the middle of adjusting a gauntlet or tweaking a stabilizer and look over at Tony, realizing, Holy crap, this guy actually saves the world—and he's my dad.
And he learned more in those sessions than he had in almost nine years of school. Tony would casually toss around concepts about reactor physics and flight stabilization that would make his science teacher's head spin.
After dinner, Peter would grab his backpack and head up to Wanda's room, where both Wanda and Vision would be waiting to help him finish his homework. Vision would patiently sit with him, guiding him through tricky questions. For science and math, Peter didn't need much help, but for essays or Spanish practice, Vision was a lifesaver. The way Vision would answer his Spanish questions with perfect grammar and a slight robotic accent never failed to make Peter laugh.
Wanda would sit nearby with a book, glancing up with an amused smile now and then. The second Peter closed his notebook, she'd jump up, linking arms with him and Vision, and drag them over to the TV. She had a stash of classic sitcoms she loved introducing Peter to, and they'd settle in with popcorn and laughter until it was time to call it a night.
But the weekends? They were even better. After lunch, he'd make his way to the training room for his "self-defense" sessions with Nat. Tony had originally set it up so she could teach him a few basic moves in case he was ever in a dangerous situation where he couldn't use his powers. But "basic" wasn't exactly in Nat's vocabulary. What started as simple safety training quickly became an all-out crash course in hand-to-hand combat.
Peter couldn't get enough of it. He'd step into the training room, practically bouncing, while Nat would eye him with a raised eyebrow and a barely hidden smirk. She'd throw in surprise moves, trickier combinations, and advanced techniques, challenging him to keep up. He loved every second, relishing the chance to sharpen his skills and let loose.
And he still kept up his Saturday dinners with Ned—only now, they happened at the Tower. For Christmas, Tony had converted a guest room into a holographic gaming paradise, surprising Peter with it on top of a mountain of gifts as if to make up for every missed holiday. Peter and Ned would dive into the gaming room for hours, completely lost in virtual battles, until Happy would knock on the door, sighing and reminding Ned for the third time that it was really time to go home.
The best part? Rhodey had started joining their gaming nights. He found Peter and Ned's energy hilarious, and the two of them loved every War Machine story Rhodey threw their way. Ned would sit wide-eyed, nearly fainting as Rhodey casually mentioned a mid-air tank rescue. "Wait, you did that? That's insane!"
Rhodey ate it up, grinning as he'd add every dramatic detail, loving the reaction. Peter couldn't stop laughing—half at Rhodey's stories, half at how starstruck Ned was. By the end of the night, they'd all be buzzing, reluctantly leaving the gaming room after the fourth reminder from Happy that Ned really had to get home.
And Peter even grew an inch and a half during this time, thanks to Pepper's constant mission to keep him well-fed. She made sure the fridge was stocked with everything he could need, and FRIDAY would chime in to remind him about his ideal calorie intake before each meal. At first, he'd grumbled about it, but soon he couldn't deny it was paying off.
To his delight, he was now officially taller than Nat and almost eye-to-eye with Wanda. Sure, he was still shorter than almost everyone else—including MJ and his mom—but it was progress. He'd stand a little straighter around the Tower, imagining the day he'd finally shoot past them all… eventually.
It was almost 5:30 p.m. on February 10th, 2016, and Academic Decathlon practice had just wrapped up. Liz had smiled at him—actually smiled—and said goodbye as she left, her new mini skirt practically sending Peter's heart into overdrive. She looked amazing, and he was pretty sure his own attempt at a response had come out as something like, "Uh, bye… yeah."
With Valentine's Day just four days away, Ned had been hounding him to buy chocolates for Liz, to "make a move," as he kept saying. But Peter wouldn't even dare dream of it. A cool, pretty upperclassman like Liz wouldn't even consider going out with someone like him. There was no chance—not even a little one. Liz Allan was way out of his league, and he was just the little freshman who got flustered every time she smiled.
His thoughts were interrupted by a buzz from his phone—Happy had texted him. Something really important had come up, and he couldn't pick up Peter from school today. Peter blinked, reading the message again, then broke into a grin. Yes! This was his first chance to walk home on his own since he started living with his parents.
He quickly texted back, No worries! I'm more than capable of getting myself back home! He tried to sound as casual as possible, hoping Happy wouldn't sense his excitement. After all, it wasn't like he was sneaking off to patrol or anything—he was just a regular high school kid walking home.
Peter quickly opened up Google Maps to figure out his way home by public transportation. A fifteen-minute walk would take him to a bus stop, and from there, he'd have to transfer to another bus before finally making it back to the Tower. It would take a little over an hour—way longer than a ride with Happy—but he was too thrilled by the taste of freedom to care.
With a grin, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and set off toward the bus stop.
Peter breathed in the fresh air, savoring the cool breeze and warm colors of the setting sun as he strolled toward the bus stop. For once, he had the freedom to wander through the neighborhood like any other teenager, with no chaperone or car waiting for him.
His mind drifted back to Liz. With Valentine's Day just around the corner, he couldn't help but wonder how much chocolate she'd get. Probably a mountain of it, he figured, given how popular she was. She was the type of girl who'd be walking around with a whole pile of heart-shaped boxes, smiling and laughing as she thanked every admirer.
Just the thought of it made Peter's heart do a weird little flip. Not that he'd actually be one of those admirers—no way. And besides, his crush on Liz was strictly between him and Ned. If his dad—or worse, the other Avengers—ever caught wind of it, he'd be teased into oblivion. He could already imagine Tony raising an eyebrow and launching into one of his classic dad talks, or Nat giving him a nudge and offering "advice" on how to win her over.
But just as he was about to lose himself in the thought, his Spider-Sense flared up, tingling so intensely it nearly knocked the wind out of him. His heart leapt as he whipped around, scanning the streets to find the source. And then he saw it—a dark plume of smoke twisting into the sky just a few blocks ahead.
An apartment building was engulfed in flames, blazing like something out of a nightmare. Fire clawed up the walls, relentless and fierce, and there wasn't a single firetruck in sight. Peter's pulse quickened. He didn't think. He didn't have time to. All he knew was that people might be trapped in there, every second counting down against them. Without a second thought, he broke into a sprint, every instinct telling him to run toward the chaos.
He didn't have his Spider-Man suit—Tony had confiscated it along with his web-shooters the night he found out. But that didn't matter now. Not when lives were at stake.
As he ran, he unzipped his backpack, grabbing his gym shirt and pulling it over his head, tugging the sleeves into a makeshift mask. He reached for his water bottle, dousing his head in a last-minute attempt to shield himself from the heat. And then he was off, diving into the blaze, his only thought on the people who needed him inside.
Peter spotted a stray brick on the ground, heart pounding as he grabbed it and hurled it at the nearest window. The glass shattered, scattering across the floor inside. Without hesitation, he climbed through, thick, scorching smoke swirling around him. Each breath seared his lungs, but he forced himself to stay focused. Stay calm. Focus. There are people trapped in here, and that's all that matters.
He closed his eyes for a second, letting his senses sharpen. Through the crackling flames, he picked up faint voices—scared and desperate, barely audible through the roaring fire. Three people. His chest tightened. He was still new to this, and he'd never gone into a building so close to collapse. But he shook the thought away. They needed him, and he couldn't leave them behind.
Moving as quickly as he could, Peter wove through the smoke and flames, his instincts guiding him toward the voices. He found them—a man, a woman, and a young girl, their faces streaked with soot and fear. "It's okay," he said, steadying his voice despite the smoke clawing at his throat. "I'm gonna get you out."
Step by step, he led them toward the exit, feeling the weight of the fire closing in, the heat nearly unbearable. But he pushed through, whispering words of encouragement to keep them calm. Almost there, just a little further. Finally, they reached the doorway, stumbling into the open air as their coughs mingled with gasps of relief. Watching them safe, a wave of pride surged through him.
But it didn't last. Just as he turned to leave, his senses flared again, catching the faintest sound—a bark, weak and desperate, from the floor below. His heart sank. A dog. Still trapped inside.
Without hesitation, he sprinted back into the building, down the stairs, following the sound. The dog was huddled in a corner, fur singed and eyes wide with fear. Peter knelt down, murmuring softly, and scooped it into his arms. "I got you," he whispered, holding the dog close. "We're getting out of here."
But as he turned to head for the exit, a sickening creak echoed around him. The world seemed to shift, and before he could react, the ceiling caved in, a storm of debris crashing down around him.
Pain exploded through his leg as a metal pole drove straight through his thigh, pinning him to the floor. He cried out, agony tearing through him. Panic clawed at his chest as he tried to move, the weight of the wreckage pressing down, trapping him.
His breath came in shallow gasps, the smoke thickening around him, vision blurring. He fumbled for his phone, his voice barely a whisper as he choked out, "FRIDAY… please, call Dad."
There was a pause, and then Tony's voice crackled through, immediate and frantic. "Addie, I'm here. FRIDAY alerted me the second you went in—I'm already on my way, with the whole team. Almost there, okay? Just hold on a little longer."
Relief washed over Peter, but only for a second. His voice wavered, the fear breaking through in shaky words. "Dad… I… I can't feel my leg. I… I can't breathe right." His breath hitched, and his voice grew weaker, barely holding back tears. "I think… I think this is it."
There was a painful silence on the other end, and Peter could almost feel his dad's heartbreak. When Tony spoke again, his voice was thick, fighting to stay steady. "No, Aidan, listen to me. You're not going anywhere. I'm right here, just hold on a little longer. I'm so close. You're strong, kiddo. You've got this. Just… keep talking to me, okay?"
Peter's tears finally broke free, streaming down his face as he whispered, "Dad… I'm so scared. I… I didn't mean for this to happen. I just… I just wanted to help." His voice trembled, barely holding it together. "I messed up, Dad. I'm so sorry."
Tony's voice cracked, a raw desperation spilling into every word. "No, Addie, no. You didn't mess up. You're so brave, and I'm so proud of you. Just hold on, okay? I'm almost there. Just… just stay with me."
Peter's breaths grew shallower, his strength slipping, his vision blurring as he fought to keep his eyes open. "Tell Mom… tell her I love her. And I… I love you too, Dad. So much."
The silence that followed felt endless, then Tony's voice broke through, choked with pain. "Aidan, please. Just hold on a little longer. I'm not losing you. Not like this. Just… please stay with me."
Peter closed his eyes, clinging to his father's words, letting the sound of Tony's voice be his anchor, the last comfort he held as the world around him faded into darkness.