Peter wasn't expecting to see the Black Widow in Mr. Stark's living room at six in the morning.
He stopped mid-step, rubbing a hand over his face as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Uh… does Stark know you're here?"
Her lips twitched in amusement. "He's asleep."
"So, no?"
Natasha crossed her arms. "You didn't think our lessons would stop just because you moved, did you?"
Peter stared blankly at her, his brain still lagging behind. "Lessons? Now? It's six a.m." He groaned. "I haven't even had breakfast."
"You can eat after you work up an appetite on the mats. You don't want to fight on a full stomach anyway."
Peter sighed heavily, casting a glance at the sensors in the ceiling where FRIDAY undoubtedly watched.
"Tell Stark I was kidnapped," he muttered, dragging his feet toward the door.
"Will do."
Peter's teeth rattled as his back hit the mat for the twelfth time. He wasn't keeping count on purpose, but he felt every single one in his ribs.
She was merciless.
He lay sprawled against the floor, staring at the high-tech ceiling of the Tower's private gym while she kept him pinned, her knee pressing firmly against his ribs. The pressure wasn't painful, but it was enough to make breathing difficult.
Natasha squished him against the floor like a bug and he let her.
She was trying to provoke him.
Peter knew it. Knew she was testing his limits, trying to get a reaction. Trying to frustrate him into acting on instinct.
But knocking him down and not letting him up wasn't making him angry. It was making him anxious. Instead of fighting, Peter focused on the equipment around him—the complex pulleys, the sleek, high-tech machines designed for super soldiers and assassins alike. He imagined how each mechanism worked, breaking them down into calculations and schematics in his mind, anything to ignore the mounting discomfort in his chest.
This gym was a little smaller than the one at the compound, but just as well equipped. Natasha had pulled Peter onto the mats immediately, and he'd wished there had been a chance to warm up on a treadmill. His muscles were not awake. His brain was perhaps a little awake now that it had been slammed to the ground so many times. But he still felt groggy from a bad night's sleep.
"Wake up, Peter!"
"I'm trying," he bit back.
"Are you?" Natasha countered coolly, still effortlessly keeping him pinned. "Because from where I'm standing, you're letting me wipe the floor with you."
"Why are we doing this? You know I can fight. I was probably trained for years by people just as deadly as you."
"Then fight." Natasha countered coolly, a bastion of patience as she continued to press him to the floor.
Peter ground his teeth and looked away.
"Exactly. The problem isn't that you can't defend yourself. The problem is that you won't."
She released him and Peter rolled away, still lying on the ground. If he got up, she would likely just knock him over again. But Natasha surprised Peter and sat down next to him. She was quiet for a moment, watching him with her unsettling, shrewd gaze before reaching over to poke him on the shoulder.
"Peter," she said calmly. "What happens when they find you?"
Peter's stomach dropped. His heart hammered against his ribs as he sat up abruptly, instinctively on guard.
"What do you mean?"
Natasha didn't blink. "You know exactly what I mean."
Peter stilled, pulse roaring in his ears.
If he lived a normal life, left the tower, went to school... It was only a matter of time before someone found him.
"They will notice eventually," Natasha continued, voice even. "Weeks from now. Months. Years. What happens when they come for you?"
"That would be different." Peter's voice took on a dangerous tone. "I can handle them." He had taken out the guy on Harley's property, after all. He cringed inwardly. He could still feel the crunch of bone.
Natasha nodded and gave him an uncomfortably knowing look. "You did handle him, and now you're afraid of hurting anyone. Your power scared you."
"It doesn't scare me. I don't want to hurt you, but I could hurt a hydra goon if I needed to."
"Would you hesitate? Would you try to find a safe way to incapacitate?"
He would, and he sensed that was not the answer she wanted. Now that Peter knew what he was capable of, he would be wary of using physical force if he could help it. If there was another way that didn't involve breaking bones, he'd take it.
"You need to confront this fear." Natasha pushed him hard back onto the mat. "If you're afraid of your own strength, then your strength becomes your biggest weakness."
She rose to leave.
"Go on, play with the machines. I know you want to."
He did want to try the machines. It was all built to withstand Avengers. Peter wanted to see what he could do with all of it.
And it would be a good distraction from everything Natasha had said. She was wrong. His strength would not be his weakness. He could ignore it completely. There were other talents he could lean on in a pinch. He didn't need his brute strength. Peter had heightened senses, including a sense that warned him of danger before his brain could fully process its presence. He was fast, too, and crazy nimble. Peter had explored a bit of his surprising balance and coordination by trying some flips at the compound, but he sensed he could do more. And then there was the stickiness, if he could only figure that out.
Not wanting to give FRIDAY too much of a show, Peter stuck to exploring his speed on one of the souped-up treadmills. He was dripping sweat and heaving for oxygen by the time Stark came to get him. But it felt good.
The man walked in wearing jeans and t-shirt. He looked very casual, so Peter assumed he wasn't working on anything business-related today. Mr. Stark glanced over Peter with raised eyebrows.
"Hey, kiddo. You look like you've been down here a while."
"Miss Romanoff came to train, and then I thought I'd run for a bit."
"Go hit the showers and then grab a bite to eat. I left a plate of eggs and bacon up in the kitchen."
"Thanks, Mr. Stark" Peter ambled clumsily to the door, his muscles loose and tired.
Stark glanced at the treadmill stats and shook his head wonderingly. The treadmill was designed for Steve and kept track of all sorts of measurements. He'd have to pull up the data to be sure, but it looked like Peter outpaced the super soldier at every point.
Peter showered and changed into another set of soft sweats and a t-shirt. Once dressed, he turned in a slow circle, surveying the room. His room. Peter wondered when that would fully sink in.
He took a moment to make his bed and toss laundry in the hamper. It felt wrong to let anything get out of order in the room, but he left a tall stack of books where it stood on the desk. They were earmarked for reading this week.
Last night Peter had pulled every book off his shelf that involved Van der Waals forces and charged surface adhesion. The answer to his stickiness had to lie there. He wanted to dive back into the reading now, despite Stark's order to go eat after he showered.
Maybe just a little reading would be okay. Peter pulled the top book off the stack. Van Der Waals Forces: A Handbook for Biologists, Chemists, Engineers, and Physicists by V. Adrian Parsegian. It was a thin book compared to others. He would make quick work of it.
Peter flipped it open and started skimming through calculations, letting his mind wander through the numbers as he tried to imagine the physical interactions that must be occurring between his hands and the walls when he became sticky.
His phone buzzed with an incoming text, pulling his attention away.
Harley: Tried to hop on the labs holo screen to vid chat but FRI says you don't live there anymore?
Is she joking?
I'm gone 2 weeks and FRI can tell bad jokes now? Did you put her up to this?
Peter: FRI's jokes are always on point
But she's not joking this time
Harley: That's it get in the lab this instant. I need to know you haven't been carted off to the Raft
And I want you to walk me through that last rxn pleez. sounds promising
Peter: Seriously dude
I moved out.
Within seconds, Peter's phone rang and he instantly regretted his vague answers. Harley was probably freaking out. He accepted the video call as he stepped out of his room and headed for the kitchen.
"Peter, what the hell? Where are you?" Harley's concerned voice demanded. He squinted and his face filled the screen. "Wait, is that the penthouse?"
Peter shifted to reveal more background "It is."
"Jesus, Pete. For a minute I thought you took off. I haven't heard from you all weekend and the last thing we talked about was Tony popping out for a gallon of milk and never returning. Then FRIDAY tells me you're not at the compound…."
Peter's ears burned and he ducked quickly back into his room. Hopefully Stark wasn't around to hear that. Why had he even complained to Harley that his guardian had gone awol? It was no big deal, honestly. He didn't want Stark to get the impression it had bothered him.
He coughed nervously and started to ramble as he shut his door behind him.
"Do people really do that? Say they're getting milk as an excuse to run out on their responsibilities? I feel like that's just a pop culture reference or something, but I don't remember."
Harley gave him a weird look. "It's supposed to be a joke-but that's pretty much what my dad did, so yeah." The teen shrugged. "Some people are jokes."
"Oh." That brought Peter up short. He already regretted making Harley worry, and now he felt like a total ass on top of that. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"No big deal. It was ages ago." Harley shrugged offhandedly. "Tony would never pull a stunt like that, though."
"Yeah. I guess not. He's talking to me again."
"See? Told you. He's a good guy. His brain is just wired differently, you have to be patient with him."
Peter remained unconvinced Stark hadn't just been fed up and tired of being the one assigned to pay attention to him.
But Pepper seemed to be in agreement with Harley. And Pepper and Harley were very smart – likely much smarter than Peter. He was willing to concede the possibility their perspectives were more accurate. He'd have to think about it later.
Peter changed the subject. "Pepper was serious about having me go to school. I guess I'll be released into the public soon, after all."
They chatted for a bit more about high school. Peter asked questions about things that made him nervous. Is it like how it is in movies? And he asked about the tower, what Harley did for fun whenever he visited this place, and how often the Avengers dropped in. It was a few minutes before Peter realized the conversation was more than a little lopsided.
"Hey, how is life in Rose Hill? What have you been up to?"
"Same old stuff." Harley answered vaguely. "I'm gonna hop off. Let me know when you get back into the lab."
"Uh, okay." Peter agreed, confused. This was not the first time Harley had ended a call or chat when conversation turned towards him.
"And for the love of God, at least text me when something life-altering happens, like moving. I want to hear all the lab stuff, too, but don't pull a Tony and forget to mention important things in lieu of science."
Peter winced. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I promise to shoot you a text after exploding the lab, but before Stark ships me off to the Raft. Got it."
He ended the call. He could do this friend-thing. It wasn't too hard. Peter made a mental note to keep Harley apprised of things he might find important.
"Boss would like to remind you to eat." FRIDAY announced from above.
"Yeah, no problem, FRI." He was starving anyway.
When Peter finally made it to the kitchen, he was surprised to see Mr. Stark had returned and was waiting for him. He was filling a mug with coffee but stopped to slide a plate piled almost comically high with eggs and bacon toward Peter.
"Eat," Tony said, setting down a glass of juice and a glass of milk in front of him. "And then maybe go back to bed. You look beat."
Peter wasn't sleeping well most nights, but he didn't think it was that obvious. He raised a dismissive, sore shoulder. "Might have overdone it in the gym. I'll be fine."
Stark nodded but was still looking him over curiously. "Did you get any sleep at all? Not that you're being constantly surveilled, but FRI did mention you were reading pretty late."
Peter tensed. Damn it, FRIDAY. He shoved a too-large bite of eggs into his mouth and mumbled through it, "I slept."
Stark looked like he was going to press, and every aspect of this talk made Peter uncomfortable. So, Peter chose a conversational grenade and tossed.
"Natasha expects Hydra will come back for me. What do you think?"
Tony, who had been lifting his coffee to his lips, froze mid-motion. His grip tightened around the mug.
"She said that, did she?" His voice was too even.
Peter nodded and eyed the man expectantly as he dug into his food, happy to have turned the topic so easily.
"That branch of Hydra has gone to ground," Tony said slowly. "And the ones left don't have any reason to believe we have you. Far as they know, you're either rotting on the Raft with your cohorts, or you're locked up in some top-secret SHIELD facility. No one's expecting you to be eating scrambled eggs in my kitchen."
Stark was pretty good at not actually answering questions. But that careful reply told Peter plenty.
A slow discomfort spread through his chest, the kind that made his senses itch for an exit. He felt exposed and unprepared. He felt the strong urge to explore his surroundings, map out escape routes, find weak points and high ground.
He looked longingly out the window. "Can I go out?"
Tony blinked. "Right now?"
A pained expression flickered across Stark's face and Peter's heart sank.
But then Tony sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"…Yes."
Peter thought he might have misheard. "What? Really?"
"Yes, really. But there are going to be some parameters. Where do you want to go?"
Peter shrugged. "Around."
"See, answers like that are not going to get you far, kid. I need a specific place, the route you're taking, and the time you expect to get back. Happy will go with you if you want to wander aimlessly. I'm sure he'll get a kick out of that."
Peter's heart sank again. It must've shown plainly on his face because Stark raised placating hands.
"It's not about trusting you, kid, I promise. I would just feel a lot better if Happy or I were with you for now. The city can be … overwhelming."
Peter frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Did Stark think he'd faint from excitement?
"Fine. Two block radius, just a walk around the building, I'll be back in one hour."
Mr. Stark gave a slow nod. "Okay. Knock yourself out." Stark's fingers twitched on the counter and his eyes glanced at the kitchen clock. "Can I come with you? I could use a coffee."
Peter narrowed his eyes at the innocent request and chose to completely ignore the half full mug in front of the man. He supposed it would be best to not make a big deal about it – maybe Stark would leave him alone once he got whatever this was out of his system.
"I guess. If you're not busy."
The man looked noticeably relieved. "Let me grab my disguise."
Peter chuckled before he realized Stark wasn't joking. "Oh. Are you serious?"
"It'll be best if you can keep a low profile. Being seen in public with Tony Stark is not the best way to fly under the radar, kid."
Stark's disguise was a ball cap and dark sunglasses, but it was surprisingly effective combined with his casual outfit. They made their way down to the ground floor, walked right out into the street, joined the foot traffic and no one batted an eye.
Peter drank in the sights and sounds. There was so much to look at. His ears strained to pick up the subtle undercurrent of conversation and shouts under all the vehicle sounds. There were so many people. Food smells wafted out from shops and deliveries whizzed by on bikes. It was intoxicating, not at all overwhelming. The compound, with its wide openness and too much sky, was overwhelming. This was cozy. The buildings wrapped around him like a cocoon.
He gazed all around, grinning so much that Stark laughed at him.
Tony snorted. "If you don't watch where you're going and look both ways before crossing streets, I will never let you out of the tower again without supervision."
Peter couldn't take him seriously because Stark was still looking at him with a barely held back grin and mirth in his eyes. Peter supposed he did look rather like an awestruck tourist.
Had he ever been here?
Was this his first time?
If he'd walked these streets before, then being able to see it again for the first time was a really cool amnesia perk.
"I won't get hit by a car," he assured, still grinning. His senses would warn him, even if he was distracted.
Tony let him lead the way, sticking to the two-block radius like promised. Peter kept his pace measured and responsible, making sure to appear as the epitome of a trustworthy teen in the hopes of gaining more freedom later.
After a while, Tony glanced at his watch. "Alright, ready to head back? We can order some lunch, get you back to your stack of books, or watch a movie. I've cleared my day, so whatever you wanna do."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Don't forget your coffee, Mr. Stark."
Tony froze for a second before recovering, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh. Yeah. That." His brow furrowed at being caught, but he recovered quickly. "There's a spot I like just down this street. You want anything?"
"Yeah, I'll try whatever. I don't remember if I like coffee." Some strong caffeine might help him focus. He really was getting tired from his late nights and interrupted sleep. "Maybe espresso?"
Stark eyed him. "Hmm, I was drinking espresso at your age. Sure, yeah, why not?"
