Thwip.
"Holy—" Peter stared upward, following the strand of polymer's progress as it shot up and struck a ledge just below the roof. He laughed when it adhered easily, swaying in the wind.
Raindrops started to spatter onto the pavement, and into his hair as he grinned up at the narrow rope. It was perfect weather to test it out.
He tugged on the end and it held firm. Peter's grin widened. It would probably hold his weight. And even if it broke, he could just cling to the wall and catch himself anyway. No big deal.
Hand over hand, he began to climb, the rope swaying under his weight but refusing to give. His hoodie clung damply to his back and the fabric grew heavy with rain, but the adrenaline in his chest made him feel weightless.
The rain was good. It wasn't a heavy downpour—just a light drizzle, enough to send most people inside. That worked in Peter's favor. The fewer people around, the better.
He paused a little above a fire escape, kicked off gently from the wall and swung on the cord, landing lightly on the metal platform.
He felt giddy with excitement, looking around for another location to swing to.
Across the alley? Could he make it to the fire escape on the neighboring building? He looked around for a good spot and considered the physics. He couldn't just swing straight across and slam into the bars. That would hurt.
He aimed off center and the strand shot out with a little thwip, cleanly latching onto the stone work across the alley. He grinned, took a few light, jogging steps forward, and for one beautiful moment, he swung wide like a kid on a backyard tire swing, feet skimming the slick brick wall, he came back around and landed his feet on the metal rungs of the opposite fire escape.
Thwip.
He swung back across.
If only he could swing building to building out in the open. That would be awesome.
He stilled for a moment when his view took in the street ahead, where the mugging had taken place. His breath caught. But no, he was not going to think about that right now. And that guy who'd been shot had made it. It would've been in the news if he hadn't. He was okay.
Peter sighed and let himself swing gently under the fire escape, shifting his focus to the matter at hand. He contemplated different modifications to the polymer shooter-ways to influence the speed and rate of release, or even the shape of the strands. What if he could release a ball of polymer? And what if he had two shooters, he could strap them to his wrists and—
"You there! Stop messing around on that fire escape!"
Peter startled and nearly lost his grip.
Below him, squinting up through the rain and adjusting a wind-flattened plastic bonnet tied snugly under her chin, stood an elderly woman with an umbrella in one hand and a shopping tote in the other. She had the look of someone who had never let a single thing happen on her block without immediate commentary. A total Karen.
She jabbed her umbrella upwards. "What, you think you're in one of those superhero movies?"
Peter dangled awkwardly, feet kicking. "N-no, ma'am!"
"You look like a spider, dangling like that! And in this rain? Itsy bitsy idiot, I tell you what. Your mother won't appreciate when you come home with a broken leg!"
"Uh, yes ma'am!"
Peter slid down the rest of the way, landing a little heavier than he intended. He ducked his head under his hood as he stared abashedly at his feet.
"Now go on home." She poked at him with the umbrella, forcing him to hop out of the way and towards the street. She was not going to let him stay in his alleyway, apparently.
"Okay! Okay! Ouch!"
"Kids these days," she muttered.
Peter was caught somewhere between amusement and genuine fear as he picked up his pace, dodging the old woman's umbrella. He snagged his backpack from behind a dumpster on his way out. Maybe he could find another quiet alley—
His phone buzzed.
Tony was waiting for him.
Crap.
Peter ducked his head as he started to jog onto the main street, slipping into the thin flow of pedestrians. He pulled out his phone and typed a quick reply.
Peter: Headed back now
Tony was in the kitchen when Peter stepped inside dripping rain. A stack of pizza boxes sat on the counter, their warm, greasy smell filled the room and made Peter's stomach growl loudly.
"Cutting it close, kid. Thought I was gonna have to send out a search party."
Peter yanked off his soaked hoodie and tossed it over the back of a chair, droplets flicking onto the floor. "Yeah, sorry. Hung out with Ned after classes and then kind of wandered around a bit."
"No problem, kiddo. I just figured you'd be ravenous by now."
"I am." Peter reached for the top box and pried it open like it held treasure. He grabbed a slice, taking a giant bite that muffled his words. "Thanks."
Tony pointed at him with his own slice, one eyebrow arching high. "New rule. Go wash your hands before you start inhaling dinner. You're going to start bringing back every virus that floats around your school and I'm not interested in that exchange, thanks.
Peter snorted around a mouthful of cheese. "I got rinsed off in the rain," he mumbled.
Tony made a face like Peter had just told him he showered in sewer runoff. "Fantastic. Yeah, that's definitely how hygiene works. Let's just start bottling city puddles and calling it hand sanitizer."
Rolling his eyes, Peter stuffed the rest of the slice in his mouth and made his way to the sink to wash up. He couldn't quite keep the smile off his face, thinking about all the interesting developments of the day.
"You seem like you had a good first day of school." Tony watched him intently, looking amused. "Mind sharing?"
Peter thought about it and decided it best to go with the truth. "Well, I established my image as a weirdo, got into a fight in the locker room, skipped lunch, and was generally disruptive in class."
"Ha, ha. Very funny."
Tony slid a glass of water across the counter to him. "Did you have fun?"
Peter nodded, grabbing another slice. "Yeah. It was good. Not a lot happens on the first day, though. Mostly paperwork and learning where the bathrooms are."
Speaking of which—
He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a stack of paperwork, dropping it on the counter with a dull thump. "I've got some forms you have to fill out. Could you finish these tonight?"
"Some forms?" Tony reached for the stack, hefting it like it was a lead weight. "Kid, there's less paperwork when an intern mysteriously vanishes from the Quantum Materials Lab."
Peter huffed a laugh. "You don't have a Quantum Materials Lab."
"Not yet," Tony countered. "But when we do, and some poor intern disappears into a pocket dimension or accidentally turns into a waveform, I guarantee the stack of paperwork will be half this size."
"It's just health stuff. Contact info. Emergency contacts. That kind of thing." Peter took another bite and reached for a third slice without hesitation.
"Did you really skip lunch?" Tony asked, flipping a page and signing without looking.
Peter hesitated mid-chew. "The cafeteria was … a lot."
Tony set the pen down, his attention zeroing in. "Define 'a lot.'"
"It was loud. Crowded. It smelled like… if someone microwaved twenty very different and very questionable leftovers and left them to ferment under a heat lamp."
Tony grimaced. "Okay. I get it. But I don't want you skipping meals."
"It's fine. Ned and MJ said we could eat outside in the courtyard tomorrow."
He studied him for a beat, then nodded slowly. "Good. You should hang out with them more. They sound like good friends."
Peter hummed in agreement, slowly chewing a mouthful of pizza.
"They can come here, you know," Tony added after a moment. "You can invite friends to the tower. It's your home, too."
Peter stilled.
"Wouldn't that make it harder to keep your whole guardian thing under wraps?"
Tony shrugged. "Maybe. I'd hope your friends would respect your privacy and not blab about your personal life if you asked them to be discreet. But if the truth gets out eventually, we'll deal with it. I don't want you to start living a double life. That would be just as stressful as one where we have to avoid the press."
Peter mulled that over, rolling his cup between his hands. Did this mean Tony was relaxing about the potential Hydra danger, too? Was that why Nat was gone again? Was she snooping around after Hydra? Did Tony know something Peter didn't know?
Or perhaps he really did just weigh the risks and decide a normal life was worth trying to have? Pepper had said something similar. She wanted it to be his choice how much he shared with friends.
He wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet. But it was nice to know the option was there.
"Maybe eventually," he admitted.
But it did make him feel better, knowing that Tony was okay with them knowing more about his life.
Speaking of friends. "Is Harley joining us in the lab, do you think?"
"Yeah, I told him to give us a call after dinner."
Good. It would be nice to catch up and talk about something normal, like school, for once. And it would be great to get back in the lab. Peter had an idea for a robotic arm that he wanted to try building with Stark before he turned in for the night to read his textbooks.
Hopefully he had enough time to read after. He was already 8 chapters into the physics book, though admittedly, those early chapters were practically child's play and barely warranted skimming. He was hoping to get through another half dozen or so chapters before going to bed tonight.
Peter wondered if that was enough. Were his classmates doing more reading than that? He'd have to ask Ned's opinion later.
Something about working in the lab with Stark just eased all the unsettled parts of his mind. He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, bent over a miniature hydraulic system for a robotic arm he'd been piecing together all evening.
Stark had stepped out for a few minutes to take another call, leaving Peter hunched over the workbench, fine-tuning the apparatus on his own. The gentle whir of servos and soft clicks of precision tools lulled him into that rare peace he'd grown to love about Stark's lab.
Then FRIDAY's voice broke the quiet.
"Harley Keener is on the line."
"Put him on the screen, FRI."
The screen flickered to life, and Harley's face appeared. He was outside, slouched against the chipped siding of his garage with a bright orange late evening sky behind him, that familiar lopsided grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Well, look who survived his first day," Harley drawled, shooting Peter an easy grin. "How was it?"
"It was good, I think. I don't know… I'll text you the details later. Stark doesn't believe a word I say, so maybe you'll be more sympathetic." Peter wondered if Harley would have any advice about dealing with a jerk like Flash.
"Intriguing." Harley narrowed his eyes. "Tony's fought aliens and sentient robots, so that must be one hell of a first day to be so unbelievable."
"More like Stark just holds me in higher regard than I deserve."
"Yeah, you're secretly such a disappointment." Harley rolled his eyes.
Peter laughed nervously.
If he only knew.
The lab doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss and Tony reentered, still absently scrolling through something on his tablet. Peter took the chance to steer the conversation.
"What about you? How was your first day?"
Harley hesitated.
"Didn't make it," he said, voice breezy. "I'll just have to pick up my textbooks tomorrow."
Peter blinked. "Wait—what?"
Harley just shrugged, gaze shifting slightly away from the camera. "Yeah. It's whatever. I'll go tomorrow."
Peter's stomach twisted uneasily. It wasn't so much that Harley had not made it to school, it was more that he was trying so hard to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal. He wouldn't do that if it weren't a big deal.
He glanced toward Tony—who had stopped mid-step, tablet frozen in his hand. His expression had shifted, the easygoing facade falling away as something more serious and focused slid into place. It was the look Peter had started recognizing over the last few weeks—the one that meant Stark was going into parent mode.
"Hey, bud," Tony said casually, leaning a little closer to the monitor. "Good to see you. So, what's this I hear about missing school?"
Harley's smirk faltered slightly. "I Just… got kind of busy. Wasn't feeling it."
Tony blinked, confused. "You weren't feeling it?"
"Yeah, Tony. It happens," Harley said, a little sharper this time.
Peter shifted in his chair. The tension crackling through the video call was tangible now. He could see Tony trying to mask the alarm behind a veneer of calm, but it wasn't working.
"So, you just decided to skip the first day of school?"
"There's no better day to skip. Literally nothing happens on the first day." Harley's voice had a strange edge to it. "And I didn't just skip. I was busy."
Peter tensed at Harley's increasingly irritated tone.
"So, what exactly were you busy with?" Tony asked, brows drawn low. "Something you couldn't reschedule? It's not like the first day of school sneaks up on you."
Harley exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. "I said I'll go tomorrow."
Tony tilted his head. "I'm just trying to understand. Skipping the first day—it's not like you."
That was when Harley rolled his eyes and leaned toward the screen with a bitter smile. "Oh my God, Pete. You turned him into a dad."
Peter's spine went rigid and he felt something twist in his chest. He didn't like the way Harley said it. Like it was a bad thing. Peter liked that Tony cared. That Tony had grown into someone who looked out for him, who asked questions and offered help. Peter was kind of proud of what Tony had become. It wasn't something to scoff at.
Tony's expression flickered for a split second, a crack forming in the mask. Then he recovered, forcing a faint smirk. "Funny. But you know I've always cared about you, kid."
Harley's face hardened. "Yeah, well, maybe don't start pretending like school attendance is some kind of moral crisis."
"Hey, calm down. No one is fighting you here." Tony raised placating hands, still looking thrown off balance.
But Harley apparently thought they were fighting. Or perhaps he wanted to start a fight, because he didn't back down. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. "Why do you even care? It's just high school. You never even went to high school!"
"Hey!" Peter stood up, bristling. It didn't take a lot of observation to know Tony's less than normal childhood was something of a sore spot. There was no need to bring it up like that.
Peter could sense Tony stiffen at those words. "Go on then. Don't stop now, what else have you got to say?"
"You have no clue!"
"I have no clue? I think you've got that turned around, kid."
"Guys, stop!" Peter turned from Stark to Harley with mounting dread.
"No, really though," Harley continued, this time complaining to Peter, "Why is he harping about me missing one single, stupid day? He was never half so responsible and now suddenly he's judging?"
"Stop it." Peter moved to stand in front of Tony as if that could somehow block Harley's tirade. "I don't know why you're so angry, but you can't take it out on Stark. That's not fair. You need to stop before you say something you regret."
"Oh, don't you start." Harley spat, but without much venom. He sounded tired. He sounded sad. Peter's heart ached.
"Why are you being like this? What is going on with you?" Peter regretted it as soon as he said it, because Harley seemed to shrink away, looking like he was being ganged up on. Peter didn't want to push him away even further.
Harley's jaw tensed. "Nothing is going on with me. It's one damn day. You two perfect people are just making it out to be something it's not!" He let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "Look, I gotta go."
"Harley—"
"Buddy, wait—"
"Later," Harley repeated, and then the screen went dark.
Peter didn't move. Neither did Tony. They just stood there, staring at the blank monitor like it might somehow flicker back on.
Peter swallowed.
Tony dragged a hand down his face.
"FRIDAY, call him back."
A long pause. Then: "No response, boss."
Peter's stomach sank.
