Greetings!
This longer-than-expected piece came from reading a veritable plethora of fics wherein Peter is being bullied, he allows it because 'better me than someone else', and Tony (or occasionally the team) swoops in to prove that Flash is wrong and cow him into submission.
Now, sometimes, those are awesome. But as someone who was bullied for the entirety of school (1st grade to the day of graduation), I know that a bully like Flash will not be cowed at being proven wrong. Not for long. After a week, two at most, he would be back at it, twisting the truth into something sordid or a 'make a wish' thing or whatever else their twisted, cunning minds can come up with. And it would be a million times worse, because the other students would go along with Flash out of sheer embarrassment.
But I also wanted Peter to take agency of his own life. Yes, he needs help in doing so, because his method isn't working, but ultimately, he needs to stand up for himself and **see** that he can be effective and powerful as Peter Parker, not just Spiderman.
I chose the protagonists simply because I think they deserve more love and attention than they generally get in IronDad fics. And also because I wanted to see how in-character I could write them.
So . . . enjoy!
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. (Look and Listen)
Respect can take a huge variety of forms.
Some of them are obvious, with no room for misinterpretation, while others are subtle and shaded with meaning for each individual.
On one random Thursday early in July, Peter Parker got a lesson in both.
Now, on the surface, this was odd, because the world at large would agree about three things when it came to the young man: he was extremely intelligent, he was a nerd with serious geek tendencies, and he was so polite and respectful, even the criminals he caught were hard-pressed to say a bad word about him. Hate him for stopping their various and sundry criminal activities? Oh, yes. But hate him personally? Very rarely.
So it came as a massive shock that afternoon when Peter lost his temper and exploded at the room of people who had staged an intervention to try convincing him to let them deal with the admittedly-vicious bullying he was suffering at school. It had deteriorated into a melee of shouting adults, all of them trying to explain to Peter how wrong he was for not letting them handle it for him, and even as angry as he was, Peter knew and understood that they meant well. Tony and May especially were coming from a place of love and concern and worry and anger, all for him or on his behalf, and he did appreciate that.
The problem was that in their zeal to solve this problem for him, they were utterly ignoring him. The same way they had for the entirety of the school year.
And even the most calm, reasonable person has a limit.
As the crowded penthouse in Stark Tower discovered to their stunned, disbelieving chagrin.
"Enough! It's my problem and my decision on how to handle it!" Peter shouted, storming to the door. He was so frustrated and angry that he didn't even register the sudden silence following his outburst; he just yanked the door open with so much force the hinges groaned in warning. "My decision!" he snapped again, turning to give the room a startlingly effective glare. "It doesn't matter what any of you think, because you aren't there. You don't have to live with what happens after you swoop in and 'save the day'." The sarcasm from his last three words was blistering enough that Bruce and Pepper took a few steps back, a fact that Peter didn't even notice, he was so livid. "SO LEAVE IT ALONE!" he bellowed before breaking into a run and flinging himself out the window FRIDAY obligingly opened for him.
May screamed, collapsing against a white-faced Happy as they all watched Peter do an Olympic-level forward flip, stick himself to the side of the building, and quickly climb to the roof. Tony, holding a shaking Pepper, was more used to the kid's gymnastics and so he only swallowed, mostly-trusting that Peter wasn't going to fall, and breathing out a relieved sigh when he didn't, while Bruce blew out a gusty breath as the green creeping into his eyes began to fade. Rhodes and Hope were standing on the sidelines, the only ones who hadn't actively joined in the . . . um, kerfuffle.
Rhodes was conflicted. He understood with an old, aching pain how Tony felt. After all, he'd seen many, many occasions of his friend being bullied, starting in MIT and happening as recently as three days prior. The irony was that he, Pepper, and the new Avengers (or Defenders; they needed to take a vote on the name and soon) were about to stage the same intervention for Tony because they were all sick of seeing Rogers (in particular) and his band of asshole rogues bully and harass Tony, using the Accords as a shield to get away with it while they were forced to spend nine months in the Compound under house arrest.
But that was for later, when they could catch Tony in a mood where he might be willing to listen to their concerns.
No, the irony did not escape him, hence the conflict: Rhodes also understood exactly where Peter was coming from, so he agreed with the young man's frustration and anger, because everyone had pushed too hard, too fast, and it hadn't taken ten minutes for the gaggle of adults to stop listening to Peter and start castigating him. The colonel sighed, trying to decide if Peter would accept him trying to talk about it, when Hope shifted beside him, sniffed hard, and abruptly made her way to the door, unnoticed by the still-shocked unofficial meeting of Peter Parker's Parental Figures, Official and Wanted to Be Official.
Three steps from the door, Hope glanced over her shoulder and caught Rhodes' gaze, summoning him with a quick head bob, and he quickly obeyed, the two of them slipping from the penthouse without garnering the attention of the others, and heading for the elevator with roof access. But just before they boarded it, Hope stopped and gave Rhodes a firm look. "Let me try first," she said calmly but implacably. "Howard Stark might have been a giant dick, but he's been dead for more than half Tony's life. All he has are memories, shitty as they are, while I dealt with Hank last week. I can keep calm but also stay understanding, and that's what he needs right now."
That . . . yeah, okay, fair point. Rhodes nodded and stepped into the elevator, where FRIDAY promptly but silently took them to Peter.
He made a heartbreaking sight: leaning against the retractable window Tony had added for his sole use some months back, one knee drawn to his chest and the other leg stretched out to the edge of the roof. He had created a small ball made of webs and was listlessly tossing it back and forth between his hands. His expression was one of utter misery, though it was clearly underlined with deep, raw frustration, and tear tracks glinted on his cheeks.
"Stress ball made from spider silk, huh? Interesting concept," Hope said matter-of-factly as she approached him. His only response was a quick glance up, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. But once he registered Rhodes' additional presence, he shut right back down, making both adults wince. Still, as Hope had just said, she was well-versed in dealing with her curmudgeon of a father — and Peter had a right to his anger.
So she acknowledged it.
"They were wrong in what they said, and even more how they went about it," she told the young man with no preamble. This earned her a startled look . . . but it also earned her a noticeably more relaxed posture. "Yes, they're just trying to help you. But ignoring you is a bad way to do it, and I'm sorry you had to deal with that disrespect."
His inherent politeness, honed and sharpened by May, kicked in at that and Peter gave her a tiny smile. But it didn't reach his eyes. "That's okay," he said dully — and nearly fell off the roof when Hope shook her head and declared, with more than a little of her own anger, "No, it isn't. They treated you abominably and you deserve an apology for it. One that I will see you get."
Peter's jaw actually fell open and Rhodes had to hide another wince. He clearly wasn't used to adults actually taking his side when he'd been wronged by other adults, and that stung, because Rhodes had seen Tony suffer that too much as well. And yet, he hadn't said a word in Peter's defense while everyone had been lambasting him . . . and he was painfully aware that to most people, silence was tacit agreement.
Of course, Hope hadn't spoken up, either, but she wasn't part of the family the way Rhodes was, so she got a little leeway he didn't. But then, for that same reason, Peter didn't trust her the way he did Rhodes. Hence why his lack of action had hurt Peter, while Hope's probably hadn't registered.
"And I'll start with mine," she announced out of nowhere, once more catching Peter completely by surprise. "I'm sorry, Peter. I was initially just trying not to interfere, as I know little about the situation, but when they ganged up on you, I should have stepped in. I have no excuse and I'm not going to make one up. I screwed up, and I apologize."
The young man's jaw was hanging open again and his eyes were huge as he listened, and it was nearly a minute before he could speak. When he finally did, he showed that he'd actually listened to Hope's words about not letting everything slide, and murmured a hoarse but sincere, "Thank you," before returning his gaze to his knees, which were winning the award for Least Awkward Thing to Look At on the roof.
Feeling both ashamed and uncomfortable, Rhodes cleared his throat and waited patiently until Peter finally met his gaze. They were full of resignation, which startled Rhodes . . . until he realized the young man was waiting for Rhodes to chew him out, because he was Tony's best friend and Tony was unhappy about the situation.
And because Rhodes had a bad personal habit of standing by when something Not Good happened, even when he wanted to step forward, and instead just (maybe) addressing it later.
Shame was so thick in his throat now, he was afraid he was about to throw up. But he summoned discipline and forced it down. Peter deserved his apology and he was going to get it. Rhodes could yell at himself later.
Or maybe he'd have Hope do it; she was very good at that kind of thing.
"I'm sorry, too, Peter," he said, refusing to let his nephew look away. "I could have said something and I just . . . I didn't, and that's on me. That's — I'm sorry. I was wrong, and I am so sorry you had — no. I apologize for letting you deal with that alone."
Those warm brown eyes, so much like Tony's, were in danger of falling out of Peter's face, they were so huge. But after another minute of so of strained (for Rhodes), stunned (that would be Peter) silence, Peter finally nodded.
"Thank you," he said simply before looking down once again.
Everyone then proceeded to wait out the most uncomfortable silence of the year — including that day in April when May and Happy had decided to be adventurous in Happy's personal office.
"All right," Hope finally said, settling herself on the rough concrete opposite Peter and giving him an even look. "We all agree that how that bunch of lunatics downstairs handled things sucked. You didn't deserve to be ambushed or attacked like that."
Eyes wary, Peter slowly nodded; it was clear he knew where she was going and didn't like it, but he was a genius, so he also knew there was no getting out of this. He didn't have to like it, and he obviously didn't.
Still, to his credit, he didn't try to deflect again, or run — well, no, it was Peter. He didn't try to fling himself off the tower, which might actually have worked.
So Rhodes gave him full points for stoicism and knowing when to concede.
"But you do need to talk about it," she continued quietly. "If only so we can explain to that bunch why their preferred method is flawed. And you know Tony; he's a scientist, yes, but above all else, he's an engineer. So once he knows that Method A is impossible, he'll start working on Method Q. But he has to understand why it's impossible first."
She paused, clearly appreciating the tiny smile Peter couldn't quite hide, before adding, "And he deserves that, Peter. He's your dad and he loves you, and he just wants you to be safe and happy and okay. We all do. And if those things aren't possible now, then he — we — need to understand why so we can look at solutions. And if the solution is sitting on our hands for a year until you graduate," she said firmly, effortlessly overriding his protest, "then we can do that. But we can't, and won't, do it without knowing the real reason why. And it isn't because — or just because — you're a self-sacrificing hero with protectiveness written into your DNA. So don't tell me you put up with that brat because it's 'better you than someone else'."
This simple but inarguable logic stopped the boy in his tracks and he slumped against his window, looking so bewildered that Rhodes had to muffle his laugh in his sleeve. By some quirk nobody could explain, Peter and Tony weren't biologically related (and yes, they had the DNA tests to prove it), but at time like this, it was difficult to believe, they were so similar.
But Rhodes digressed. And while he was woolgathering, Peter had thrown in the metaph—oh, no, he'd thrown in the literal towel. Well, okay, it was a handkerchief, but still. The kid clearly got both his sense of the dramatic and the dramatic flair from Tony, which . . . well, to be honest, kinda terrified Rhodes. He honestly wasn't sure the world was able to handle another Tony Stark. His best friend was amazing, absolutely, and Rhodes was making it one of his life's missions to make sure everyone either understood that, starting with Tony, or got punched in the throat (starting with Rogers), but he also knew the world at large simply didn't have the mental stability required to deal with another Anthony Edward Stark, only younger and with the purest heart Rhodes had ever seen in his life.
Argh! He was digressing again. Was he really that afraid of what the kid — Tony's kid — was going to say about his school life?
. . . yeah. Yeah, he was. Because Rhodes was genuinely concerned that after hearing the truth, he might be forced to kill a teenager so Tony didn't have to.
"You're right, that's not why I let him harass me so much. Well, not anymore; I learned that lesson a couple of years ago. No, it's actually pretty simple," Peter said abruptly, nearly startling Rhodes off the roof, but he had enough experience with Tony to go with it and brace himself against his own concrete pillar as he gave the teenager his full attention. "STEM schools like mine get a little federal money, but only a little. So Midtown isn't a public school with all those rules and safeguards, but even though it has tuition, it isn't private. We're the in-between, and that's the problem."
He paused and gave them both a long look to ensure they were keeping up, and Hope and Rhodes both silently nodded. Satisfied, he continued. "Well, that means the social hierarchy is comprised of the Haves and the Don't Haves."
That . . . that wasn't the right analogy. Hope beat Rhodes to the objection, though.
"Don't Haves?" she repeated carefully, giving the words the same inflection as Peter, and the boy nodded.
"Yep. You either have money, connections, and/or power, or you don't. Ned has money. Not much, mind, but enough to pay tuition and afford the field trips and lunches and whatnot. MJ has a little less money, but her folks have some minor connections. And Flash — I could knock him down or break his nose or, or p-prove he's wrong about my internship, but it would only make things worse because he'll just turn the truth into something gross and I still won't be able to really fight back because his family . . . well . . ."
He trailed off, but it was obvious to the pigeons flying by what he wasn't saying, and Rhodes swallowed down a surge of old anger. He'd gone to public school, but kids were kids, and those that had stuff always lorded it over those who didn't. And precious few adults had ever tried to stop them, at least in a young James Rhodes' experience. A quick glance at Hope told him she understood all too well, but the faint guilt he saw in her eyes confirmed she'd been on the other side of the equation. Probably not as a bully, but she'd still been a rich kid. He knew from Tony that it came with its own set of problems, but that wasn't the issue at hand.
Ignoring this minor byplay, Peter kept talking.
"The real problem, though, is the staff and teachers," he said quietly, looking down at the ragged hole just below his left knee. "They follow the same hierarchy, see, and are in essence bought and paid for. While scholarship kids like me are great for getting a few more federal dollars and tend to set national standards for excellence and grades and all that crap, we're completely worthless when it comes to getting stuff like new lab equipment and tablets and cool field trips. You know, the things that need money, connections, and power."
Oh. Of course. And if the teachers were bowing to the demands of the parents . . . yeah, he could see exactly why Tony's usual brand of 'fix' would be useless for Peter. And so did Hope, who gave a heavy sigh and said it so Peter wouldn't have to.
"So even if Tony bought the school, he'd have to re-staff from the ground up and micromanage for two or three years to ensure the old attitudes and habits didn't take root," she stated, while Rhodes and Peter nodded.
"Yep," the boy said flatly, and Rhodes winced again, because Tony was not going to take this well. Not even a little bit. He'd understand, sure, but not being able to solve his kid's problem, or at least make his life a little better?
Well. That was something to look forward to.
But he'd forgotten that Hope had different experiences from both himself and Tony.
Also, she had a twisted sense of humor and a positively Machiavellian way of managing both people and situations.
(these traits were both extremely attractive and rather frightening; Rhodes couldn't decide if he wanted to ask her out or form a new team somewhere in far-east Asia)
"Well," she said slowly, blowing out a deep sigh. "That sucks, Peter. But I understand — and I have a solution."
This bald statement made Peter jerk to attention so hard and fast, his head thunked against the window behind him with a force that made Rhodes wince and reach instinctively for the medkit he wasn't carrying. Hope ignored both their reactions and calmly explained not just what she was going to do, but why it would work.
"I know you don't believe I have a viable solution, because no one else has found one," she told Peter, leaning forward a little so she could finally catch and hold his eyes. "But part of the problem is that the people dealing directly with him are just like him: teenagers. And no matter how intelligent — or not — someone is, life experience will always trump smart. That's one of the reasons Rogers hates Tony: he's moderately intelligent and has no real life experience, and he can't stand having his shortcomings exposed," she observed caustically, nodding at Peter when he gave her a wide-eyed look of shock at hearing someone — an adult — not just say it out loud, but in front of him. To him. Everyone else had been trying desperately to pretend that because the Rogues had been pardoned and allowed back in the US that all was forgiven and fine and the team was once more a family, dancing merrily through the wildflowers, holding hands and singing Kumbayah.
The fact that Peter was intellectually close to Tony's genius level, not to mention startlingly sensitive to negative emotions, had escaped everyone. Even Tony.
So Rhodes, and apparently Hope, had seen him walking on eggshells for last month, knowing full well the façade of 'happy, healthy team-as-family' was complete bullshit, but unable to call anyone on it, because it was obvious to a blind man (which Matt had proved less than twenty seconds after meeting the Rogues) that this house of cards was balancing on one corner of one card and an earthquake was sending out warning tremors.
"But that's a different conversation. Right now, we're focusing on you," she told the young man, smiling gently when he deflated at the reminder; clearly, he'd been hoping Hope's little detour was permanent. "So the first thing we need to know is what's this kid — Flash, right? — prefer to use: words or fists?"
One again, her blunt speech had taken Peter utterly aback, and Rhodes had to physically bite back a smile. Perhaps he should have felt out of place, but he was secure enough in himself and his abilities to know that Hope was the better choice for the emotional part of helping Peter. Rhodes wasn't a slouch, necessarily, but he was both male and one raised in an era were men Did Not Show Feelings Even Under Pain of Death. So while he empathized with Peter completely, he simply wasn't good at showing that in a healthy manner. But he knew even before Peter spoke that the brat had gotten physical at least a few times, because as long as he'd apparently been making Peter's life miserable, it was inevitable. And Peter, being the gentle, polite, respectful kid that he was, refused to fight back because he could seriously hurt the little bastard and he flat-out refused to do that.
And that, Rhodes could help him with. They just had to get there first.
"He's . . . he really likes to mouth off," Peter murmured into his knees, shoulders hunching as he clearly remembered some of those words, and Hope nodded. Since Peter wasn't looking at her, she allowed anger to cross her face for a few fleeting seconds, before she took a deep breath and visibly calmed herself down.
"It's worse than being hit, isn't it?" she asked, her voice so full of empathetic understanding that Rhodes felt tears prick his eyes, and Peter couldn't stop the flinch that wracked his frame. "Especially since he has nothing better to do, so you hear it three or four times a day, four or five days a week. You think you're inured to it, and it doesn't really bother you, and mostly, it doesn't, but then, you're having that day and it just . . . and you can't turn around and flatten his face, because he technically hasn't done anything to hurt you, right?"
Peter flinched again. But it was the sob he muffled against his knees that finally broke Rhodes, and he moved forward until he was standing next to the young man. Without a word, he carefully eased himself down until he was seated beside Peter, legs crossed so that his right knee was touching Peter's left, and waited patiently for his presence and support to be accepted.
It didn't take nearly as long as Rhodes expected, which told him that Peter was a lot more upset about the situation than he'd realized. And how desperate the kid actually was for help. It just . . . that help had to be effective, and that was what had been lacking until now. But he wanted desperately to trust Hope, to believe she had a solution, and because Tony trusted her and Rhodes was currently backing her play, he was willing to hear her out.
Hope didn't ask Peter to confirm her guess, and she wasn't foolish enough to try touching him in comfort. Instead, she treated his emotional response as normal and kept talking. "I know you don't want to tell me, or anyone," she said candidly, and Peter shook his head, not bothering to deny it, but also with no real resistance. He didn't realize that Hope wouldn't push the issue if it truly mattered to him to keep his secrets, but she was skilled at reading people and knew that Peter did want to tell someone.
He just . . . needed the person he told to stay calm and collected and not start shouting about badly he'd handled the situation or why he hadn't let someone else take care of it for him. He didn't need a lecture. He just needed to be listened to.
And Hope and Rhodes did. They let him speak and they listened to what he said. They heard him.
So when Hope asked, with genuine desire to know but without an ounce of censure in her voice, what Peter's tormenter's favorite torments were, he responded to the respect he'd been craving for so very long.
"His personal favorite is Penis Parker," the young man said quietly, still without looking up, and Rhodes was unable to censor his reaction to that. He scoffed, which earned him a quick glance from Peter, and told the kid, "Wow. That might actually be the most unoriginal thing I've ever heard — and I'm including 'Capsicle' in that." A tiny smile was his reward for this observation, and Rhodes took a few seconds to relish it before turning serious again. "But even though it's juvenile and completely lacks imagination, it still hurts, especially when everyone else giggles when they hear it."
A stiff nod was his only answer, but it was more than enough, and Hope sighed, finally reaching out to brush her fingers across Peter's right knee.
"Jim's right. It's juvenile, but irritatingly effective. So what I'm going to teach you is how to turn that back on him," she said, and Peter glanced up, confusion competing with cautious hope at her words.
"How?" he asked hoarsely. "His family is one of, like, seven or eight who own the school."
In response, Hope merely smiled. It was razor sharp and cold, and sharks all over the world suddenly experienced serious adequacy issues. "Because we aren't going to challenge his social standing. We're going to eliminate it."
And that finally got Peter's full attention. He lifted his head to openly gawk at Hope . . . and so was Rhodes. He couldn't even begin to fathom what she meant, but he was both eager and afraid to find out.
"You're going to make a list of every single name and insult he likes to use on a regular basis. And we're going to come up with a single word rebuttal for each of them."
That . . . okay, Rhodes was lost, and so was Peter, if his slack jaw was any indication.
"I—" the young man began, but was immediately, albeit gently, cut off.
"It sounds crazy, yes," she agreed. "But the thing about popular social standing, especially in high school? It's entirely dependent on the backing and respect of your peers. Make the bully a laughingstock among enough people, and they lose all their power, because no one can take them seriously."
"I—" Peter tried, again, only to trail off as that brilliant mind clearly began visualizing scenarios and both potential and possible outcomes. Whatever he saw had him visibly perking up, but barely a minute later, he slumped in defeat. "I don't see how," he told them in a dull, defeated voice. "I'm nobody at Midtown. Just the guy who wins Decathalon when I'm not flaking out on it, or Flash's personal punching bag. Nobody's going to listen to me."
"I know. But they won't need to," Hope answered, her candid acceptance of his summation of the situation catching Rhodes off-guard. But Peter actually looked a little grateful for it, and Rhodes suddenly considered just how infuriating it must be to constantly be told that 'it isn't that bad' and 'it'll get better' and 'if you just let us deal with it, everything will come up roses', when the truth was, every one of those statements was a lie. Having someone acknowledge that was clearly a huge relief for the young man, and Rhodes made a mental note to start doing this with Tony. It was too easy to offer reassurance in an attempt to soothe the hurt, but not all hurts could be soothed, and false promises were much worse than blunt truth.
"What you're going to do is kick the first pebble to start the avalanche. And it won't be as complex or as difficult as you think. Honestly, your reaction is going to be the hardest thing about it, because you are going to have to have perfect control — and, unfortunately, you have no poker face whatsoever. So that's what we're going to do for the rest of the summer. You've still got, what, five weeks left?" she asked, getting a stunned nod from Peter and a grin from Rhodes, who had figured out where this was going.
"We'll also work on some defensive training," he added, shifting a little so he could look Peter straight in the eyes. "I know people like him, so I'm betting he's fond of shoulder checking you to knock you off balance or make you drop your stuff, right?"
A single nod, backed by clear shame that Spiderman, the hero who could stop a school bus with his bare hands, allowed himself to be pushed around by a smarmy high school bully, made protective fury rise hard and fast, and Rhodes slung an arm around Peter's shoulders.
"Well, luckily for you, you know someone with access to the best military in the world, and we can teach you all sorts of tricks that are strictly defensive, so you don't have to worry about hurting the little bastard, but you can still save yourself some bruises and aggravation. And help make him look foolish in the process. So it's win-win."
Peter sniffed hard and looked away, but not before Rhodes saw a gleam of hope in his eyes. That protective fury flared higher and he gave the kid an affectionate side-hug before looking back at Hope and smiling. "So . . . we're gonna make a schedule and start working on facial discipline and control for you . . . and you know what? Once you've gotten a solid base, we're gonna bring Ned here, too," Rhodes said, the memory of Ned's exuberance hitting him out of nowhere. Peter could at least ignore something, even if his face didn't agree. Ned, however, had neither facial nor vocal control once he got excited or upset, and for Hope's plan to work, both boys would have to have perfect, deadpan faces.
But Ned could easily be motivated by bribery (Tony's lab, one-on-one time with War Machine, tickets to whatever convention they wanted to go to . . . really, the list was endless). But even as he had the thought, Rhodes knew he was doing Peter's best friend a disservice. Ned loved Peter the way Rhodes loved Tony, so he would learn to keep the straightest face in the history of straight faces because it would help Peter.
Speaking of, the object of their discussion was gaping at both of them, eyes wild with too many emotions to identify, but he made no attempt to argue, which Rhodes couldn't help but find humorous. Stunning Peter speechless was as rare as silencing Tony, and it really was funny to see.
"Up you go, then," Hope told them both, offering a hand to Peter and getting a wide-eyed look in response before whatever he saw on her face silenced his instinctive protest and he accepted her help in getting up. Rhodes got no such assistance, which earned her a disgruntled glare . . . that turned into a slack jaw when she leaned in to whisper, "Strong and flexible, Colonel. Does that skill extend to other areas of your life?"
And the terrified attraction was back.
They'd both forgotten Peter's enhanced hearing, so his horrified expression had them bursting into laughter, to which he just huffed out an affronted sigh before turning to the door.
"Wait, Peter," Hope said, brushing a hand over his shoulder and keeping him still. "This conversation will remain private, for now. We will eventually have to tell Tony and May, but we'll keep it between us until you're ready to put things in motion — or you're ready to tell them, whichever comes first. And don't you dare apologize when we go back inside. I told you that they owe you one and I was going to see that you got it, and I fully intend to keep my word. Okay?"
Shaken, Peter stared at her for a solid minute before he slowly nodded, and Rhodes squeezed his other shoulder before stepping around him to open the door and escort his nephew back to their family.
No one spoke during the four-minute trip, which was unnerving, but Rhodes and Hope resolutely ignored the awkwardness and Peter just set his jaw and pushed straight through it.
Tony met them at the door, though the others were arrayed in a group behind him. But this time, the atmosphere wasn't tense and angry, and Rhodes and Hope both relaxed minutely on seeing the remorse on everyone's faces.
"I'm sorry, bambino," he told Peter quietly, but still loud enough for the room to hear. "I'm frustrated because my thing is being The Fixer and I can't fix this for you. But I also want you to come to me about anything and I can't ask or expect you to do that if you think I'm going to attack you. No, don't say anything," he added quickly, cutting Peter off mid-breath. "What I did wasn't okay, and I don't want you say it is just to make me feel better or let things go back to normal. You deserve better, so let me give it to you. Please?"
Tears, somehow held at bay for the last hour, finally welled up and spilled down Peter's cheeks and he stepped into Tony's arms, burying his face against his father's chest and letting himself be comforted. Tony didn't say a word, though Hope and Rhodes had to step past him to stop the others from rushing to join the embrace. They would have their chance later, but this moment was for Peter and Tony.
After the tears and apologies had tapered off and Peter had finally fallen asleep from utter exhaustion, Hope and Rhodes were bombarded with questions and demands from everyone but Tony . . . who took first Hope and then Rhodes aside and thanked them for standing up for and taking care of his son . . . and then shocked them both into disbelieving gurgles when he promised not to ask any questions until Peter was ready to talk about it.
Rhodes wasn't ashamed to admit he spent the rest of the day looking for flying pigs.
Over the next five weeks, Peter underwent several small but significant changes: he got an up-close and personal look at just how many variants there were between 'weedy asthmatic twig' (Peter's words, but Ned had agreed) and Spiderman. It took several days and an absurd number of demonstrations, but when Peter finally grasped how, exactly, he could use the laws of physics to keep himself safe without also revealing his secret identity, he became an almost completely new man. Still polite, still respectful, but . . . resolute . . . in a way he'd never been before.
And his determination to develop the best poker face in the history of the world bore successful fruit as well, though it took more than two weeks before he started making solid progress. Hope and Rhodes had initially decided to wait on bringing Ned in until after Peter had mastered the skill, but it didn't take long for them to realize that Peter learned best in this kind of environment with a friend, so he and Ned learned together. And Rhodes had been right: Ned hadn't needed any incentive outside of helping Peter, though Tony had gladly procured tickets for the pair to a comedian they'd wanted to see for months.
To everyone's surprise (and mounting frustration, though they all kept their word and didn't pressure anyone on the plan — not even Ned, who would have spilled like a cup of coffee), Peter kept his mouth shut about what he and Hope and Rhodes had concocted until three weeks after the school year started. It was a Friday, which meant he was spending the weekend at the Tower, and as it happened, both Hope and Rhodes were present that morning as he bolted out the door, running late like he did every Friday.
"You can show them now and have FRIDAY keep tabs!" he yelled over his shoulder as he hit the waiting elevator, leaving confused silence behind him while everyone tried to process the meaning of those rushed instructions. Once she parsed it out, Hope smiled and started to ask FRIDAY to play back their conversation with Peter on the roof so many weeks earlier. But Tony cut her off and requested Pepper and Happy and Bruce to come to the penthouse first (May was at a work conference), citing the fact that they deserved to know what was going on just as much as he did. That was a fair point, and everyone settled in to wait for the half-hour it took for the other two to arrive.
More than a few tears were shed as they watched and listened to that heart-wrenching, heartfelt discussion, but time had provided a lot of perspective and Tony once again thanked Hope and Rhodes for taking such good care of his kid. When he asked about their plan, though, he was met with a pair of mischievous smiles and not a word in response.
Before Tony or Happy could fret themselves to death, though, FRIDAY piped up and saved them all from an uncontrolled sugar run that would have seen every donut in Manhattan eaten in a frenzy that Thor would be jealous of and the look of gratitude on Pepper's face would make Hope giggle for weeks.
Being Tony Stark's AI, FRIDAY hacked the security camera in the school's hall when Peter tapped the panic button on his watch, so the group of five got a semi-blurred view of Peter standing at his locker, Ned at his side, with a dark-haired, trying-way-too-hard-to-look-good boy sauntering up behind them. A small crowd of students gathered to watch, scenting blood in the water.
"Ah, Penis Parker," the dark-haired boy sneered, taking another step forward.
And stopped dead in his tracks when Peter, without turning his head, said, "What do you want, Vagina?"
Someone actually dropped a pen in the abrupt, shocked silence . . . which was broken when one of the girls standing a few feet to Flash's left burst into hysterical giggles, pointing at Flash and gasping, "Vagina!" before doubling over, tears streaming down her face. That set everyone else off, with the boy himself standing in the middle of a massive group of his peers, all of whom were laughing at him . . .
. . . while Peter and Ned simply slipped through a small gap at the edge of the locker bank. Neither of them looked at Flash once, or showed any reaction whatsoever to the hysterically-laughing mob, and Rhodes was so proud of his nephew, he knew he was going to burst. Hope was in the same boat, while Pepper had buried her face in a couch cushion so she could scream with laughter. Happy just looked stunned, and Tony . . . his face was a swirling mix of emotions: pride at Peter's composure, sorrow at the necessity, glee at the brilliance of the plan (which, true to Hope's predictions, took less than a month to take full effect; Peter never used his rebuttals to Flash's heckling outside of those specific taunts, but they spread through the rest of the school like wildfire. Flash Thompson was de-fanged before midterms).
And so much love, tears came to Rhodes' eyes.
The most astonishing thing, though? When Peter got home that afternoon, not a single person said a word about it. After listening to Peter's explanation of how things worked at Midtown, and why, they'd all been forced to come to some ugly realizations, but the end result was a much deeper understanding of the young man. He would never be proud of humiliating someone, no matter how deserving that someone might be or how it was the only to stop worse from happening, so he wouldn't appreciate being praised for it, either.
So nobody said anything and just treated it like a normal Friday. And if various members of Peter's family had FRIDAY keep tabs on how often he (and Ned) had to take the brat down, well . . . hell, yes, they did. They were unspeakably proud of Peter, even if he wouldn't accept that pride for this situation, and frankly, the rebuttals he and Hope had concocted were pure gold.
Well, according to Tony, they were a red and gold titanium alloy, but his pride and love for his son was such that everyone rolled their eyes and let him have that point (to be fair, the look on Flash's face when Ned nailed him with his birth name of Eugene in front of his crush was so good that May got it printed and framed).
In the grand scheme of things, it was a small show of respect for Peter. But it set the foundation for the rest of his life and ultimately set Peter Parker on a path where he would change the world in a way no one would ever have dreamed.
And it all started with the simple respect of one person finally being heard.
~~~
fin