"The kid is getting out of bed, boss."
Tony groaned into his pillow. "Mute, FRI."
"According to the Half-Asleep Idiot protocol, I cannot be muted at this time."
Tony groaned louder, burying his face in the pillow. "What is it? What's going on?"
"Peter is out of bed, boss. You asked me to let you know."
Tony bolted upwards as the words finally sank through the gauzy layers of exhaustion that swaddled his mind. "What? Where's Bruce?" His voice felt like sand in his throat.
"Dr. Banner is asleep."
Tony swore under his breath as he wrestled himself free from the sheets. The bedding had tangled and roped around his arms and legs during his fitful and pitiful single hour of sleep. He managed to extricate himself and raced down a flight of stairs and across half the compound to Bruce's lab. When he burst through the door he found an empty exam bed and a peacefully snoring Bruce Banner on a folding cot against the far wall.
"Unbelievable," Tony muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. He opened his mouth to ask FRIDAY for Peter's location, but the sound of a flushing toilet across the hall cut him off. A moment later, Peter shuffled back into the lab. The kid froze when he saw Tony standing there, and for a moment, the two simply stared at each other.
Peter wore a thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders and wide, surprised eyes under a mop of messy brown curls. He looked about as threatening as a teddy bear, but Tony knew looks could be deceiving. Peter might look harmless now, but appearances could be deceiving. SHIELD had already taken the bigger Hydra operative into custody—a man who would need weeks of medical care after his brief encounter with Peter. The kid didn't just have enhanced strength; he'd proven he knew how to use it.
"Why are you up?" Tony's voice cut through the silence, sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Tony was already inexplicably mad at the kid. He'd meant to ask why the kid was up without Bruce to supervise him.
Peter's gaze darted toward the floor. "Bathroom," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. Then, with a nervous glance back at Tony, he added, "You're not going to shoot me again, are you? 'Cause it's late, and I'd rather sleep the normal way."
Tony crossed his arms, willing himself to find a scrap of patience. "Funny. Get back to bed, then. And stay there until someone comes to get you." So what if he didn't remember being a dangerous Hydra operative. Tony was still going to make sure he was supervised. Memories might be wiped, but his personality was likely still intact. Amnesia wouldn't just get rid of your true colors, and Tony still wondered what those colors might be.
Peter hesitated, glancing toward the narrow exam bed that was little more than a glorified table. Reluctantly, he climbed back onto it, his blanket slipping slightly to reveal mottled, healing bruises at the kid's collarbone. Tony's gaze lingered for a second longer than he intended. The kid looked so... young. Small. Out of place. But that didn't change the fact that Peter was dangerous. Or that he was possibly lying about the extent of his memory loss.
Tony watched as Peter climbed onto the stiff, uncomfortable-looking surface, and he realized suddenly what was missing. "Did Bruce take off your restraints?"
Peter grimaced, his shoulders hunching, "Uh… no." He reached down and held up the broken cuffs, the metal warped and twisted.
You broke through them?" Tony asked, incredulous. Those were reinforced solid metal restraints. They weren't meant to budge under normal—or even enhanced—strength.
Peter shrugged, "I had to pee."
It was as impressive as it was worrisome. He walked forward intending to grab the broken restraints, but the kid flinched back so hard Tony was worried he might end up with a second concussion all on his own. Tony stopped in his tracks, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just hand them over."
The kid's face turned red—from embarrassment?
He swallowed hard and tossed the cuffs toward Tony, his movements stiff. Tony caught them easily, turning the metal over in his hands. "Wow. You really did a number on these." His tone was flat, but the words carried a faint undercurrent of amazement.
The kid fidgeted, tugging the blanket tighter around himself. "Dr. Banner said I might have enhanced strength, so… I thought maybe…" He trailed off, his voice uncertain. He shivered slightly, and Tony frowned.
"FRIDAY, bump the temperature a few degrees," Tony ordered. He watched Peter carefully, noting the way the boy seemed to shrink into himself. Something about his tight, defensive posture and the wariness in his face—that refusal to let anyone see how scared he really was—made Tony's chest clench uncomfortably.
At least he looked a bit remorseful over breaking the restraints. It wasn't lost on Tony that the kid had broken free just to return to his prison cell and his sleeping guard. But a super-powered teen who probably didn't even understand his own strength was the last thing Tony needed running around the compound. He already felt like he was surrounded by overgrown toddlers since the Avengers had returned.
"Break anything else," Tony warned with as stern a tone as he could muster, "and you're going to be spending your day in my workshop until you fix it."
Peter mumbled something under his breath, and Tony arched an eyebrow. "What was that?"
The kid shrugged and looked away. It was such a teenage thing to do, Tony felt an irrational bubble of annoyance rise up.
"Go to bed," Tony said, the exhaustion creeping back into his voice. "Stay put. Don't cause any trouble."
Peter rolled his eyes, "Yes, dad."
Tony felt his jaw twitch as his irritation flared. "FRIDAY, cut the lights." He left the room before the kid could provoke any more aggravation. Tony was no one's dad, thank God. The world didn't need another Howard Stark. But Tony could feel the instinct to be cruel and biting flow just under the surface of his already strained self-control. It was his genetic curse. Howard was in his blood, and if Tony wasn't careful, his father was sure to take over any interaction Tony had. The kid was a pain in the ass, and he may prove to be a dangerous liability to boot. But even a potentially cold-blooded baby hydra didn't deserve to have Howard inflicted on him.
He took a steadying breath in the hallway and considered his options. Turn left and go back to bed? Turn right and head to his workshop? His mind was swimming with the many events of the last 24 hours, and the bitter taste of Howard's stern, cold voice in his mouth. Tony groaned and turned right. Maybe just a little time in the workshop so he could calm his thoughts and go back to sleep.
He cleared a workspace and started fiddling with a soft and stretchy haptic sensor that could feel pressure and vibration when worn on the skin. He was going to surprise Harley with the sensor as a fun project to work on while he stayed at the compound. It would probably take a couple weeks before Natasha and Clint could tie up loose ends and Harley could safely return home. This would be a fun distraction in the meantime.
A mere hour later and Tony was feeling relaxed enough to consider sleep, though it was already almost morning. The tension had drained away and he now had several fun ideas lined up to explore with Harley. He headed back to his room and collapsed onto the bed, falling face-first onto the mattress and not even bothering to move to get more comfortable.
"Boss, Peter is out of bed."
"Oh my God," Tony spoke, garbled, directly into the mattress, "What's he doing, FRI?
"He is standing next to his bed, waiting."
Was one of Peter's enhancements the ability to be a perfectly-timed annoyance?
"Tell him to get back to bed, FRI."
"He says, 'No thanks.'"
Tony took a fortifying breath through his comforter. "Ask him what he needs."
"Peter doesn't need anything and thanks you for your concern," FRIDAY paused, "His tone suggests sarcasm."
FRIDAY was getting really good at recognizing nuanced emotions, but with Tony as her main consistent subject to observe, she was damn near perfect at detecting sarcasm.
"Okay FRI, use your best judgement and just let me know if he gets into anything dangerous in the lab, or if he tries to leave." Tony attempted to relax back into the blissful feeling of being on the verge of easy, struggle-free sleep. He just needed a couple hours of rest and then he could deal with the numerous problems and responsibilities he'd unwittingly inherited that day.
"Peter has broken the bed, boss. It does not appear that he meant to..."
"What?" Tony snapped, already throwing on a hoodie, "How—never mind. I'm coming."
Tony cursed Bruce's ability to sleep through anything. He should have rolled him out of that cot on his way out of the lab. He dragged himself out of his room and noted the faint rays of dawn through the windows. There was no way the two of them were going to survive and this was just the first day. Surely the kid would be safer with Fury because Tony was already considering shooting him again.
Tony strode into the lab and right up to a startled-looking Peter, who was already backing away from him. The reclining back of the bed had fallen impossibly forward and was now folded in on itself. Peter was standing next to the mangled exam bed, his face a mix of guilt and defiance. "I didn't mean to! I was just messing with the reclining mechanism."
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, "Come with me."
"I.. what? No way," Peter drew himself up, glaring fiercely. The boy's posture had gone from I'm so sorry to fight me so fast that Tony would have laughed if he wasn't so tired.
"You don't want to be here. It's too quiet. You're bored. Come with me." Tony turned and left the scowling teen behind.
A moment later, he heard bare feet trailing behind him.
Poor Peter. He's not just bored, he's probably lonely and anxious. He was bound to imprint on Tony like a little lost duck and follow him to the lab.
I've been posting chapters in chunks of 2 or 3 at a time, so be careful you didn't miss one! Sorry, I should have been clear about that.
I'll try to do one a day from here on until it's all caught up here on FFN.