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triscribeaucollection · 1 year

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Protector

“Nobody fuss at me for the Star Wars reference, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

Steve heard Sam huff behind him, and couldn’t resist speaking up. “That’s the one with the Vulcans and Klingons, right?”

“...I honestly can’t tell if you’re serious or not,” Lang replied over their comm line in a horrified tone. “Sci-fi geeks the world over just shuddered with rage and don’t know why.”

“There’s an art to figuring out if Cap’s asking a genuine question or just messing with you,” Clint offered, somewhere up in the ventilation system. Steve smirked as he kept moving silently down the hallway. “I have yet to master it. Might ask Nat for some pointers.”

“If he gets shit-eating grin on his face right after the question, you know he’s teasing.” Natasha cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Steve let his smirk widen, and she winked back. “But this time, I think he might actually mean it.”

“Ohh no, I might not be fully fluent in Steve-speak but I AM an expert with all things Romanov, and she definitely just teased you. Which probably means there is, in fact, a shit-eating grin on Captain America’s face right now.”

Sam snorted, and spoke into his comlink before Lang could finish sputtering. “Trust me, Scott, don’t go down that rabbit hole, they’ll only drag you deeper. Now, getting back to the mission, does anybody have eyes on the secret entrance we’re supposed to be looking for?”

“Oh, yeah, I found it a minute ago. It’s why I mentioned the bad feeling - there’s some blood on the threshold. Like, only a few drops, but still. Somebody injured got pulled through here, and pretty recently.”

“Well, we are looking into the possibility of a new Winter Soldier program,” Natasha muttered, picking up her pace a little bit. “Would make sense to abduct a couple of disposable test subjects if they’re lacking volunteers.”

Steve started moving faster too. “All the more reason to shut this place down as soon as possible. Joining us, Hawkeye, or have you found another way in?”

Just ahead of them, the archer himself suddenly appeared, dropping down from the ceiling with a vent cover in hand. He set it aside and fell into step with Natasha. “Joining. Whatever kind of set-up they’ve got downstairs, it must be on a separate airflow system - I couldn’t find even a single vertical shaft.”

Soon enough their group of four reached Lang’s position, and the man reverted to normal size before gesturing at an unremarkable stretch of wall. “Trust me, the seams are pretty small, but they’re there. Also, I haven’t spotted any security cameras, but...”

“But any facility worth their salt will probably have eyes on us as soon as we go in,” Steve finished grimly. Six months ago, they would’ve had Tony’s help hacking and disabling security networks, but that option wasn’t available anymore. “So we hit ‘em hard and fast instead of stealthy.”

“Ready when you are, Cap,” Sam stated.

Nodding, Steve backed up a little bit - then launched himself forward, and knocked down the door.

They expected alarm klaxons to go off as soon as their presence was detected. What they did not expect was for alarms to already be going off, deeper within the facility. Steve could hear them pretty well, and even his teammates without enhanced senses managed to pick up the high-pitched echoes. “Ooh-kay,” Lang said slowly, “Sounds like they’ve already got some problems going on.”

Clint shrugged at him, a flash-grenade arrow nocked to his bowstring. “If it makes our job easier, I’m not complaining.”

“Depends on what the trouble is,” Sam murmured, keeping to Steve’s left as they started moving down the stairs. “If there’s zombies, I’m bugging out.”

“...is that very likely?”

“Focus, Scott.”

Their group made it down two stories without zombies or anything else jumping out of the shadows, which could’ve been considered a good thing. But they also didn’t come across any security personnel, despite passing an empty guard station, which gave Steve a bad feeling too. Natasha took point heading down the first corridor they came to, and the sirens got louder. Underneath, Steve managed to hear distant yelling, though too distorted for him to pick out any words.

A pair of guards finally showed up, backing into the intersection ahead of them, cursing quietly as they kept their guns pointed towards- the ceiling?

Clint let his arrow fly. Natasha took down the guards before they could do anything but yelp: one knocked out by a flying kick to the head, the other pinned and restrained with his weapon tossed out of reach. “Hi there,” Steve greeted him, crouching down with a flat smile. “Don’t suppose you’d like to tell us what’s going on?”

The man’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of them, armed and uniformed and unamused. He swore, loudly, before stammering something in a language Steve didn’t know. Natasha did, thankfully, and she replied with similar rolling words. The guard shook his head, adding something else in a fearful tone.

“Apparently, they’ve had a prisoner escape,” Natasha translated. “Small, fast, attacks from above. They have orders not to kill.”

Steve grit his teeth, and heard Sam hiss with dismay. “Someone they’ve already invested time and money into, then.”

“Most likely. Any other questions for this guy?” When Steve shook his head, Natasha quickly applied a chokehold. By the time she stood back up, the rest of them had moved to positions around the intersection. “Splitting up or sticking together, Cap?”

“Together. We don’t know what this prisoner’s capable of, or what kinds of measures these people will use to get them back.” That said, he gestured for quiet, and listened as intently as he could. The shouting definitely sounded louder from one direction, and Steve’s natural inclination was to head that way- but a short, sharp slam caught his attention, from the hallways branching off to the left. “Come on.”

Lang shrank down to hitch a ride on Clint’s shoulder. He, Sam, Steve and Natasha formed a diamond shape as they moved, swiftly covering ground, using hand gestures to signal when to pause and when to go. A few more security personnel crossed their path, clearly more focused on finding the escapee than remaining alert for any other threats, and all went down fast and quiet. Then, around a corner up ahead, Steve heard someone shout- a squeal of something metallic being yanked against concrete- a sudden burst of gunfire.

He sped up, and reached the turn just in time to see a slip of a teenager toss a grown man headfirst into the wall.

A kid. These bastards decided to experiment with a kid.

In the few seconds it took Steve to throttle back his instinctive rage, the rest of his team gathered around him, all of them freezing with the same shock. And then the kid turned, and spotted them.

He flinched. He flinched away, stumbling back, until he tripped on the guard’s dropped gun and landed flat on his butt. Shaky breath sped up, only to stall completely when Steve tried taking a step forward.

“It’s okay,” he said, stopping in place. “It’s okay, son, we aren’t going to hurt you.”

“C-captain,” the kid stammered. His hands shook. His eyes were wide, pupils too large, but unerringly focused on Steve’s face. “You’re- no, I- I can’t- I-”

Natasha slid around to put herself in the kid’s line of sight. “Hey, little fella. You look past ready to get out of here, huh?”

“You’re- Widow. Black Widow.” The boy looked relieved, for whatever strange reason, but it only lasted a second before the panic came roaring back into his expression. “I can’t- they gave, gave me- a needle- I can’t, think I can’t think-”

“That’s alright,” Natasha soothed, easing a little closer. The kid didn’t flinch from her. “We’ll get you out of here and wait for it to wear off, okay?”

“‘Kay,” the kid whispered. But just as Natasha reached him, he shuddered, all over, and started to tip over. She managed to catch him before his head could hit the floor, and then Lang burst up to full size beside them.

“I’ll carry him,” the man insisted. “You guys are the better fighters, anyway.”

“Could you shrink him down?” Steve asked, still not getting close.

Lang shook his head, but then stopped and shrugged. “I mean, I could, but I’m not the expert with Pym-particles, and we don’t know what else he’s been injected with, so I’d really rather not risk any bad reactions.”

“Fair enough. Is he injured anywhere else?”

“A lot of bruises, already healing. And here-” Natasha gestured to the kid’s feet, bare and stained with fresh blood. “Looks like he walked across something sharp. Broken glass, maybe, but I can’t see any shards in the cuts.” Lang carefully reached down to grasp where she indicated, and pulled the limp kid up and over his shoulder.

“Alright,” Steve said. “New priority. We head back to the entrance, quick and quiet. Ant-Man and Falcon, get him out of here, back to the safehouse. The three of us will come back in to finish the mission once you’re clear.” The others all nodded, and they hastily retraced their steps, back to the front corridor and staircases.

Unfortunately, they didn’t make it that far.

A much larger group of guards suddenly spilled into the first intersection just before Steve reached it - at least a dozen of them, maybe fifteen, and all armed with similar weapons that fired bursts of electricity rather than bullets. His shield could still catch them, but it sizzled with each impact, and Steve’s hands started to go numb even through the thick material of his gloves. “Get back!”

Clint and Natasha continued to shoot around him. Sam found an unlocked door to yank open and led Lang through it. An explosive arrow hit the ground in front of the guards, and with the brief cessation of shooting, Steve dove through the doorway after his teammates.

They found themselves in a long room, some kind of workshop, with multiple tables full of lab equipment and bulky machinery along the walls. Another door sat at the far end; Lang darted off with the kid, Clint and Sam on either side, as Natasha helped Steve block off the door they’d come through. “Well, this isn’t going according to plan.”

He just grunted, shoving a heavy cabinet over. At least one heavy body slammed into the door, but their slapdash barrier held. For the moment.

They ran to join the others, just as Sam managed to break the other door’s lock with a swift kick. New route opened, their group slipped through - only to stop just as quickly, gathered on a walkway across a truly massive chasm. Natural stone bordered both sides, and the dim overhead lighting barely managed to penetrate the darkness below.

“Bad feeling’s worse,” Lang commented, briefly leaning a little closer. The kid groaned, twitching on his shoulder, which served to make the man backpedal for safety’s sake.

“We taking our chances on there being a way out on the other side, or making a stand?” Natasha asked, eyeing the door they’d just come through. The pursuing guards continued to shout, and Steve could hear the undercurrent sound of something cutting through the barricade.

“We take a chance,” he answered grimly. “Widow first, then Falcon. Hawkeye, you and I bring up the rear; Ant-man, keep in the middle and let us cover you.”

Each of them made a quick acknowledgement, and then they were moving - careful, but quick. No handrails bordered the edges of the walkway; no convenient signage indicating how far down the drop went.

About halfway across to the far wall, the first gunshots rang out.

Steve did what he could to alternate with Clint, blocking the bullets coming straight towards them even as arrows flew back in return. More guards spilled out onto the balcony platform around the door, though, giving them wider angles to fire at the rest of his teammates. Sam and Natasha gave a little back with their own weapons, at least, but Lang didn’t have much choice besides hunker down and keep moving.

Then the kid woke back up.

Steve’s only warning came in the form of a horrified shout from Lang, a few seconds before he felt the reverberations of something traveling under the walkway. Traveling fast.

“The hell-?” Clint barely got two words out before the kid flipped into sight, swinging himself inhumanly fast up onto the balcony. The guards weren’t any more prepared for him to come into their midst; several of them could only let loose shouts of alarm before a palm or an elbow or a foot slammed into their bodies.

Not a single one fell over the edge. Instead, the kid kept grabbing opponents he’d just knocked out, turning them into blunt force weapons against the others, tossing around people twice his size and kitted out in heavy body armor.

All too soon, no one remained standing besides the kid. He panted, short in-and-out gasps, arms still raised for combat as his eyes spun wildly, looking for the next enemy.

Steve took that moment to ease forward around Clint. Something in his head managed to click, watching the unknown teen bulldoze his way through the hostiles, and even though the mere idea of it turned his insides cold he still needed to ask- “Queens?”

The kid’s head snapped around towards him.

---

Chapter 4 of my Slush Pile fic, for all the half-written and unfinished MCU ideas I’ve had over the last, oh, decade or so. With any luck this one will eventually turn into its own standalone story, but there’s no telling how long that’ll take...

#marvel #wip #peter parker #steve rogers #post civil war fixit #rogue avengers #natasha romanov #clint barton #sam wilson #scott lang #fan fiction #eventual irondad #at least that's the idea #might take a while before the Muse feels willing to keep working on this one

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idk-bruh-20 · 2 months

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(I'm not back sorry y'all, just saw we were due for a reminder)

#basically had to go on a blocking spree #if you see my posts on starker blogs pls lmk I'll probably see it eventually #unfortunately I'm still on timeout. my irl life is much healthier without the responsibilities of a blog #though! I'll add a bit of queue while I'm here <333 as a treat #irondad fam I have never forgotten you #irondad and spiderson #iron dad and spider son #tony stark #peter parker #ironfam #anti starker #starkers dni #announcements

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marvel-lous-guy · 11 months

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Tony: Do you even have any life goals other than spiderman?

Peter: I have been banned from every fast food place in Queens except for the Mcdonalds one block away from the Tower. I don't know what their limit is but I will find it.

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irondad-defensesquad · 22 days

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“Peter.”

The boy can’t even look Tony in the eye. Not because he’s afraid, but because he’s tired. Defeated. The most he does is glance at his mentor like a sad, curious puppy.

Tony can only smile.

“You’re doing great,” he tells him.

Peter looks surprised to hear that, as he raises his head a little and actually gazes at the man.

“I know you don’t believe it with how much you’ve been dealing with,” Tony details. “You might think you’re failing, but I see your effort. You’re a hero both at school and at home… and well, everywhere. And I’m proud of you.”

It’s like Peter hasn’t heard these words in forever.

Because his eyes grow deep, his lips quiver, he begins shaking. Tony can tell there’s a lot of pain in there, as Peter covers his mouth once he starts sobbing, so he doesn’t make much noise.

Tony kneels in front of the kid, opening his arms. Peter immediately launches himself towards him, hugging him so desperately, and sobbing so much that it must hurt. Tony hates imagining how long Peter must have kept it to himself. How long has he felt like a failure?

Peter is so much more than “good enough”.

He’s doing great, amazing, even.

And the kid needs to remember that more often.

Tony will make sure of that.

#lotus speaks #irondad #fics #my fics #drabble #i might write a complete story. eventually #i wrote this bc my psychiatrist yesterday merely told me i was doing a good job #and i started crying #like #ppl often tell me i'm doing the best i can #and i get the intention #but sometimes i don't feel like that's good #so hearing someone say i was doing good or great #not just 'good enough' or 'the best i could'#wow.#that hit me like a ton of bricks #idk if this makes sense #rambling in tags

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 6 months

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The Hoax by happyaspie

No Archive Warnings Apply | Rated T | Chp. 1/? | No Powers AU, OOC May Parker, Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, Ned Leeds. Warnings for Gaslighting and Emotional Manipulation.

Summary: Even after years of no evidence, Tony Stark refused to stop looking for his kidnapped son. Some people called it false hope, others called it fatherly love. But May Parker called it an opportunity.

“You and that kid share quite a few similarities, and the case has so little evidence. With your help, I really think we could use those things to our advantage.” Peter was dubious. “How, though?” he asked, his tone teetering toward sarcasm. It was a natural impulse that he couldn’t consistently avoid. No matter how hard he tried. “What do you want me to do? Knock on Tony Stark's front door and pretend to be Arno?” May said nothing as she stared at him from across the table. Initially, he didn’t understand. But as she elevated her eyebrows and tilted her head, it clicked. That was exactly what May wanted him to do.

[Exceprt Below the Cut]

Peter sat down at the kitchen table and twirled some spaghetti around his fork. Of all the things his Aunt May attempted to cook, pasta topped with a jar of tomato sauce and some cheap parmesan cheese was his favorite. He considered not mentioning his backpack had given up on him part way through the school day. He knew she’d be disappointed and didn't want to ruin the pleasant meal. However, no amount of pleasant conversation was going to make it any easier to get around his giant high school without a bag. He sighed nervously and glanced down at his plate. “I, uh, I need a new backpack,” he mumbled under his breath.

May brought her finger up to her ear and tapped it, her face one of disbelief. “Excuse me?” she questioned. “What was that?”

Peter swallowed hard and forced a smile. “I need a new backpack?” he repeated louder and with more clarity than before.

A huff of annoyance escaped May’s lips as she dropped her fork and crossed her arms over her chest. “I bought you one right at the beginning of the school year,” she replied.

“Yeah, but one of the seams ripped,” Peter attempted to defend, then pulled his lip between his teeth. May has asked him to quit the band, Academic Decathlon, and robotics club so he could get a part-time job. He’d easily complied, eager to contribute to the household income. Although he didn’t actually know how much he was actually helping. Each week he signed his check over to May, and she deposited it into her account. He never asked where it went after that. “If you would-” he began but quickly backtracked. “I mean, If I could just use a little bit of my paycheck from Delmar’s, maybe-”

“Peter. Sweetie,” May gently interjected. “You know that money is supposed to help us pay the bills. You don’t want to be the reason we can’t afford rent next month, do you?” she asked, her smile not quite meeting her eyes. “This neighborhood is expensive. Every little bit counts.”

“I don’t know. It’s a lot of books and stuff,” he unsurely replied. Even though his best friend was kind enough to allow him to use some of his locker space, Midtown was a specialized science and technology school. His schedule was rigorous and required a lot of materials. He wasn’t sure carrying everything around was all that reasonable.

“Don’t be selfish, Peter,” May mildly scolded. “There are only a few weeks of school left to go. You can get by with one of my reusable shopping bags until then.”

May was right. Peter knew she was right. There wasn't too much school left. Carrying his supplies around in a stupid cloth shopping bag wouldn’t kill him. Even if there were a handful of students who would never let him live it down. Starting with Flash Thompson. But he could handle that if it meant making things easier for his aunt. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s fine,” he swiftly agreed. He glanced at his half-eaten dinner and bit back a sigh. “May I be excused?”

[Continue Reading On AO3]

#happyaspie writing #the hoax #no powers au #ooc aunt may parker #emotional manipulation #gaslighting #peter parker #tony stark #may parker #happy hogan #ned leeds #irondad and spiderson #eventually

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tesserat · 1 year

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Went feral, drew Tony Stark in under three hours, I’m tired, I crave sleep, but mostly I crave world domination.

#my first time drawing tony #i suffered #but i'm ecstatic about it #tony #stark #tony stark #mr stark #iron man #ironman #irondad #iron dad #fanart #tony fanart #yes i gave him black hair #he's kinda mcu-tony inspired #but i also checked the comics #and the animated series #eventually i decided black hair looked the coolest

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arthropodwithapen · 10 months

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Chapters: 31/70 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Avengers Team & Peter Parker Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man), Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Skip Westcott, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Adrian Toomes Additional Tags: Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Civil War, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Tony Stark, Hurt Peter Parker, Angry Peter Parker, Homeless Peter Parker, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Misunderstandings, Tony Stark Has Issues, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Protective Tony Stark, Protective Parent Tony Stark, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Foster Care, Skip Westcott Being a Jerk, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, The Avengers Find Out Peter Parker is Spider-Man, Peter Parker Has Anxiety, Peter Parker has PTSD, Depressed Peter Parker, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Peter Parker, Suicide Attempt, Peter Parker Has Issues Summary:

After Peter's precarious position goes from bad to worse time and time again, he is left all alone with nothing but his anger and resentment at the world to keep him company. He wonders how much more he can take and whether the growing grudge between him and the Avengers will be enough to finish him off for good. Will he be able to complete his mission in time? Does he even want to anymore?

Of course. He is Spider-Man and he has a job to do. And he'll do it even if it kills him. For everyone else's sake.

*entire work is finished - updating regularly*

#spider-man #irondad and spiderson #irondad #spiderson #angst #eventual fluff #peter parker is a mess #whump #hurt/comfort

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mellarkandart · 1 year

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the oh so grueling life of a fanfic writer

#fanfic #hp fanfic #my writing #ao3 fanfic #irondad fanfiction #I’m not actually working on the fic on the notepad rn #it’s just the next page is blank and this looked better #I’ll get around to writing that one eventually though #I’ve been too overwhelmed to write I think bc I have too many WIPs so now I’m trying to just focus on one fic at a time

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not-me-underc0ver · 5 months

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my favorite thing to do when writing irondad is to sprinkle in as many "the kid" lines as possible at the beginning just to slowly mix in "his kid" before it's eventually ONLY "his kid"

#peter parker #tony stark #irondad #iron dad #peter and tony #spider son #mcu fanfiction

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ao3feed-irondadspiderson · 4 months

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You Need to Calm Down

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52655707 by rowrowlove Tony Stark has never been a person to get a full night of sleep. Whenever he gets even remotely close, he’s suddenly interrupted. Wether it be a blaring alarm, signaling he must leave at once, or Pepper barging in, making him sign papers regarding Stark Industries. Which is exactly why he was awake when Peter Parker called him frantically at 3:00 A.M. OR Peter Parker is a little shit, who somehow makes the avengers a family again. Rated Teen for swearing Words: 1585, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Michelle Jones (Marvel), Ned Leeds, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker Additional Tags: Irondad, Good Friend Michelle Jones (Marvel), Good Friend Ned Leeds, Fame, Social Media, Avengers Family, Post-Civil War, Avengers Tower, Protective Avengers, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Peter Parker Has Issues, Hurt/Comfort, eventually, Not yet though read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52655707

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark

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spacecadet-ticklesinspace · 1 year

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hello! this is an IronDad prompt if ur interested. Peter and Tony are having their annual movie night except when it gets late Peter doesn't want to sleep. Peter is crawling on the ceiling and doing parkour across the furniture, being super hyper and won't stop moving. so Tony eventually chases Peter around and ends up tickling him to tire him out. could end with Tony carrying the kid to bed.

Bedtime Tricks

Summary: See prompt above ❤️

(Ahh! I love this! ❤️ This made me feel so soft and fluffy! Thank you so much Anoooon! ❤️ Enjoy!)

"Peter, get down!" Tony glared up at the teen crawling across his ceiling. "I don't want to explain to your Aunt May that you got a broken arm by parkouring upside down like a maniac."

The energetic teen whined. "No! You'll make me go to bed!"

"Pete, it's literally one o'clock in the morning."

"It's early!"

"Half the tower is asleep already. Even Bruce, and he's the worst night owl."

Peter turned. "You're one to talk."

There was a brief pause where Tony debated if it would be illegal to strangle the kid with his Iron Man suit. Or atleast yank him down so he wouldn't have to go up there.

Instead, the older mentor stared down his young mentee. "Pete, get down now."

"Please Mr. Stark? Just one more movie before bed?"

Tony shook his head. "We don't negotiate with terrorists."

"Just ex-assassians and super soldiers."

"Atleast they're adult enough to go to bed at a reasonable hour."

"But that's what makes me so awesome. I keep you young by keeping you up late."

While he didn't hate the kid, Tony did want to grab him by the shoulders and give him a couple of good shakes to clear the cobwebs. "Peter, you get one more chance to come down."

With a smirk, the young teen actually jumped down to the floor. "Okay."

Tony let out a breath. "Thank you. Now we can---."

A moment later, Peter was back up on the ceiling.

"Peter Parker!" Tony scolded. "I told you to get down."

"Ihi did!" Peter dropped from the ceiling onto the floor again. "Sehee?"

"Then why did you---?"

The young teen jumped back onto the ceiling once again.

Meanwhile, Tony rubbed his temples. "Get down and stay down."

"Ohh! That's whahat yohou meant," Peter dropped once again down to the floor.

"Yes, that's what I---Forget it, are you going to bed willingly or do I have to---."

Tony swore he blinked and the kid was now back up on the ceiling.

"Peter Benjamin Parker!"

Peter giggled down at the man. "Yohou look eheven shorteher from uhup hehere."

Tony took a deep breath. "Come down from the ceiling and go to bed or you're going to get it."

"Gehet what? Aha grohounding?"

"Peter, get down."

The young teen grinned. "Noho."

Tony felt something inside of him snap. "That's it!"

With the flex of his hand, Tony summoned the gloves of his supersuit into the room and up to the ceiling.

Peter squeaked and tried to scurry away, but he was too slow. One of the gloves snagged the collar of his shirt before he was pulled away from the ceiling. "Nononono!"

The gloves dangled the teen in front of a glaring mentor. "Bed time."

"But I'm not even tired!"

"Okay, what do I need to do to get you to sleep?"

A smile beamed across Peter's face. "Hide and Seek?"

Tony was surprised. He thought the kid would try another movie bargain again or maybe ice cream before bed. Instead, he just wanted a game. Granted, the amount of candy wrappers did indicate a sugar high . . . maybe a few good laps would wear him out enough to actually go to sleep.

In fact, Tony had an even better idea.

He lowered his young mentee to the floor with a smirk. "Alright, here's the deal. We'll play Hide and Seek, but I have a couple rules."

The young teen whined.

Tony held up a hand. "Before you judge, just listen. Rule number one, you have to stay on this floor. There's plenty of places to hide already and I don't want to go all over this place to find you."

Peter nodded.

"Rule number two, I'm the permanent seeker."

"What?"

"You're younger and smaller so you can fit in more places. Plus this was your suggestion so you should do most of the leg work."

"Fiiiine."

"Rule number three, and this one's most important, when I find you---."

"If you find me."

"Ah ah ah, shush. When I find you, I get to tickle you."

The young teen's eyes widened. "Huh?"

"You heard me."

"Why tickling!"

"Cause you love it."

Peter blushed. "No!"

Tony smirked. "Can't lie to me Pete."

"W-well . . . You still have to find me first!"

"Oh I plan to." The older mentor covered his eyes. "You've got ten seconds. One, two . . ."

Peter squealed and scurried away to find a hiding spot. He was going to pick the best spot to win this.

Meanwhile, Tony rolled his eyes as he continued counting. The things this kid put him through, but he was glad to do them. When he reached ten, he uncovered his eyes. "Ready or not, here I come."

As Tony searched, he had to admit the kid chose a good hiding spot. He couldn't find him in the living room, the kitchen, or the guest room. He was tempted to check his room when a stray giggle caught his attention.

The older man stopped to look at a nearby coat closet. Sure enough, a few more giggles slipped out.

Tony smirked as he made his way over to the closet. He heard the giggles inside try to quiet down, but it was too late. The older mentor threw open the door and his mentee tried to scurry between his legs.

"Gotcha!" Tony exclaimed as he grabbed the teen's foot and yanked him back.

"Eek! Wahait!"

Tony pinned his mentee's legs. "Too late."

Before Peter could respond, Tony dug into his sides.

"Ah! Tohonyhy!"

"At leheast yohou've gotten past your Mr. Stark eheraha." The older man's hands crawled up to the teen's ribs. "I should tickle you more often."

Peter blushed bright red at the idea. He was still adjusting to the idea that Mr. Stark knew he liked tickling and that he was willing to tickle him whenever. May did it and occasionally Ned, but he hadn't had a father figure willing to do tickle him since Uncle Ben had passed so it was still a bit of an adjustment.

But he had to admit, it was also kind of fun. Atleast until Mr. Stark reached his ribs.

"SQUEE! NAHAT THEHERE! NAHAT THEHERE!"

"Aww, is someone's ribs ticklish? Are this ribbies just too tickly?"

"NOOOHO!"

Tony finally let him go. "Ahalright, you gotta get more creative with thohose spots if you want toho trick me."

"On it."

The determined look on the young teen's face told Tony he was in for a challenge. "Go for it."

The older mentor returned to the living room and recounted as his mentee scurried off to a new place. When he went to search this time, Tony did struggle to pin point the kid's hiding spot at first. It took a bit of squinting to find one singular set of toes peeking out from under the guest room curtains.

A chuckle escaped Tony's mouth as he moved toward the curtain. To his credit, Peter stayed fairly quiet during this round. He only let out a few quiet giggles as his mentor stepped toward him.

With a quick yank of the curtain, Tony revealed the giggling teen. "Ah-ha!"

Once again, Peter squealed and bolted.

Tony tried to grab him, but the giggling teen slipped past him. "Hey! You're breaking rule number three!"

"Yohou nehever made aha ruhule fohor runnihing!"

Tony ran after him. "You and your loopholes!"

"Juhust dohont mahake thehem!"

Tony growled. "Get back here!"

With his mentor hot on his heels, Peter kept up the chase throughout the different rooms on the floor. He felt victorious out smarting the great Tony Stark! Atleast, he did until he tripped turning the corner.

This allowed Tony the chance he needed to pin the kid to the ground. "Got ya!"

"Wahait! No! Ihi trihipphed!"

"You never made a rule for tripping," Tony replied as he pinned the teen face first on the ground so he could tickle his back.

Peter squeaked. "Yohou made thehe ruhules!"

"Aww, does someone have a ticklish back too?" Tony spidered around his shoulder blades. "Poor kiddo."

"Ihi dohon't wahant yohour sympahathyhy ohold mahahan!"

A smirk crept across the older man's face. "Oh you don't? That's fine with me."

A moment later, Tony leaned forward to blow a raspberry into the nape of Peter's neck.

"NAAAAH!" Peter snorted. "TONY!"

"Wow, thahat was a new sound."

The teen turned to pout at his mentor. "Yohou're mehean."

"Aww. What's wrong kiddo?" Tony ruffled his hair. "Did I put the berries in the wrong spot?"

The teen's eyes bugged out. He immediately squirmed until he was able to wriggle out of Tony's hold. "Catch mehe fihirst!"

Tony grinned as he hurried to his feet. "You're on!"

Peter was a mess of giggles as he ran through the different rooms. This brought back memories of when he was a kid. He could remember the countless times his Aunt and Uncle had chased him around their apartment or Ned had tackled him to the living room floor when he slept over. Now he got to have the experience with Tony.

He just wished the pounding footsteps didn't make him so nervous and excited.

To give him some distance, Peter hurried back into the living room.

And Tony came stomping in. "Fe! Fi! Fo! Fum! I'm going to tickle you little one!"

Peter held out his hand. "Stahay ohover there!"

Tony hurried forward. "But you're over there!"

The young teen moved to the other side of the couch. "Cause Ihim stahaying away frohom yohou!"

Tony shrugged. "Could have accomplished the same thing by going to bed. Yet here we are."

Then before the teen could retort, Tony jumped on to the couch to pull him over. Once he had his mentee on the couch, Tony repinned him. "Now to give you some proper berries."

Peter wrapped his arms around his stomach as nervous giggles bubbled out. "Y-you don't h-hahave tohoo!"

Tony pushed his arms and shirt up. "But I will."

Peter became a cackling mess as Tony blew raspberries into his tummy. He couldn't grab onto his mentor's hair either because Tony had wrapped a hand around his arms so he could hold them in place.

"EEEEEK!" Peter snorted again. "Yohour beHEEEEARD!"

The older man stroked his gotee. "Ticklish?"

"Noho fahahair! You hahave aha weapohon!"

"Don't be jealous kiddo." Tony pinched the teen's cheek. "You'll get your own when you grow up."

Peter playfully bit at Tony's hands.

"Ah! Now I have to use my weapon."

The older man's head returned to blowing the raspberries on Peter's stomach.

"NAAAAAH! NO FAHAIR! NOHO FAIR!"

Tony chuckled which sent goosebumps flaring across the teen's tummy. To add to the ticklishness, Tony intentionally rubbed his beard across the teen's tummy just to make it extra tickly.

"Ehehe-EEE! NAAAAAAAAH! YOU'RE THEHE WOHORST!"

"Ihi know, thank you."

With his stomach free from the raspberries, Peter took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at Mr. Stark.

"Carefuhul, wouldn't want it to get stuck like that."

The young teen whined.

"Look, let's do one more round." Tony unpinned the kid. "If I find you in under two minutes, I get to pick the next tickle spot. If you manage to stay hidden for longer than two minutes, you get to pick the next tickle a pot. Sound good?"

Peter nodded. "You're ohon!"

Tony let the teen go before he covered his eyes again. When he opened them, he caught sight of a foot disappearing behind the couch. The older man smirked, but decided to play along. "JARVIS, set a timer for two minutes."

"Timer is set."

Tony stood and started toward the hallway. "Where are you kiddo?"

The older mentor could still hear the stifled giggles from behind the couch as he moved around. He slowly checked behind a nearby chair, under the coffee table, and deliberately passed by the couch to check the other side of the living room.

When he knew the timer was nearing the end, he made his way to the couch. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

The stifled giggles grew even more as he leaned against the couch. Then he popped his head over. "Hello."

"Ahh!" Peter jumped back.

"Timer has ended."

The young teen groaned. "No fair! I was so close!"

"Welp, rules are rules."

Peter squealed as he was pulled over the back of the couch. "Wahait!"

"No can do." Tony wrapped him in a hug. "Too busy getting your neck."

The older man nuzzled his face into his mentee's neck.

"EEE! TONY!"

"Ihi get toho choose kiddo." Tony rubbed his beard across his neck. "And I'm going to use my secret weapon."

As Tony continued his attack, Peter dissolved into snorts, cackles, and squeals. He looked so much younger and even more precious. When the young teen seemed adequately out of breath, Tony stopped the tickles and just held him close. "Dihid yohou have fun kiddo?"

"Yeheah Dahad."

Both parties tensed as the word settled over them.

"I---I'm so T-Mr. Stark . . . I didn't---I mean I didn't---."

As Peter floundered for his words, Tony felt his heart melt. He pulled the young teen as close as he could before squeezing him tight. "You're welcome son."

Peter buried his face into Tony's chest as he wrapped his arms around him. It was one of the best hugs he had had in a while. "Thank you."

"Anytime kiddo." Tony ran his fingers through the teen's curls. "Anytime."

As Tony kept up the gentle touch, Peter slowly relaxed into his hold. The once hyper teen was now replaced with a snuggly kid who was slowly drifting off to sleep.

Tony chuckled as his kid. "Guess it dihid help you goho to sleep."

Peter didn't respond. His eyes were shut and his breathing slowly evened out.

Ever so carefully, Tony stood with the sleeping teen in his arms. He walked down the hall to the guest room where he carefully tucked his kid in for the night. "Night kid. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

Peter snuffed in response as he curled under the covers. "Love you."

Tony grinned. "Love you too son. See ya in the morning."

The older mentor quietly headed out of the room and clicked off the lights.

#lee peter 1 #iron dad #ticklefic #fluff

86 notes · View notes

triscribeaucollection · 11 months

Text

Can’t Breathe In

(SO. What if, way back during Infinity War, the group on Titan fighting Thanos managed to get the gauntlet away from him? Say, for example, Peter yoinks just a tad harder at the right moment, pulling it and the four already-retrieved Stones off. There’s still the problem of keeping them away from the purple bastard, so Strange opens up a portal back to Earth, tosses the kid, the gauntlet, and the Eye of Agamotto through for good measure, before he and Tony and the Guardians do their level best to put Thanos down for good.

One thing leads to another, all roads converge in Wakanda, and there ends up being a knock-down drag-out free-for-all fight between the present Avengers and the remaining Children of Thanos for six Infinity Stones in one room (Shuri having just enough time to cut Vision free of the Mind Stone before shit hits the fan).

Stuff is exploding, containers are breaking, half a dozen all-powerful artifacts tied to the foundations of Existence are flying through the air, and a certain Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Doofus manages to grab two at once.

Things get... interesting, after that.)

---

Peter is so screwed.

Even if he survives, even if he manages to change enough things to save the day for everybody else, he is so screwed, because he did the one thing Doctor Strange explicitly said not to and at this point it’s definitely going to kill him.

Just. Slowly. Because that’s Parker Luck for you.

Panting through the pain, Peter manages to finish scrawling out the last of his future-notes, doubled up at the very bottom of the page. Then he promptly drops the pencil and grasps at his head, whining faintly.

Some of it’s definitely a residual after-effect of accidentally grabbing two Infinity Stones at once and super accidentally activating them. The rest is a miserable combination of adjusting to no longer having his powers, adjusting to once again having asthma, and of course the bout of bronchitis his thirteen year old body happened to be dealing with when Peter’s sixteen year old mind got dropped into it.

Zero out of five stars, do not recommend.

A hand knocks on his bedroom door, and Peter barely bites back an instinctive whimper. “Y-yeah?”

“You okay in there, kiddo?”

And there’s the other thing. Ben is still alive.

Ben is alive, May isn’t a widow, and Peter really needs to make sure they both stay that way.

But he also needs to warn Mister Stark about everything that’s coming.

“I- I guess,” Peter says miserably, and it’s enough to make his uncle open the door and step inside. The kid’s heart stutters just at the sight of him: familiar concerned expression, rumpled well-worn clothes, brown hair that’s only just started to turn gray around the ears.

“Well, you must be feeling a little better, at least,” Ben mutters, glancing between Peter at his desk and the abandoned bed. “I’m ducking out to run a couple errands, kiddo, shouldn’t be gone too long. Want anything?”

He takes as deep a breath as he can manage at the moment. “Actually- yeah. Could you drop off a letter for me?”

Ben raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking up a little at one corner. “A letter?”

“Mmhm.” Peter reorganizes his papers real quick, then folds the four sheets in half before taping them closed. On top goes a post-it note, and one final scribble: for FRIDAY or Happy Hogan, please.

...after a moment’s consideration, ‘please’ gets underlined an extra time.

Ben’s second eyebrow has risen as well by the time Peter turns back, holding out the makeshift envelope. “Where am I taking this, kiddo?”

“Manhattan. Stark Tower.” He can see the startled blink, and hurries to go on, “It’s really important, Ben, please. If I could take it my- myself-” His lungs choose that moment to induce a coughing fit, and Peter practically doubles over as his whole body shakes.

One of Ben’s large hands settles between his shoulder blades, rubbing up and down until Peter can breathe again. “Okay, buddy,” his uncle murmurs, gently tugging the papers free of his grasping fingers. “Okay. Stark Tower. I can do that. Might take me an extra hour, though- are you going to be okay by yourself?”

Rather than speak and irritate his poor throat, Peter raises a thumb’s up.

Ben grins, just slightly, and ruffles his hair. “Go on back to bed, then. I’ll top off your water cup and head out.” A+ plan. Truly phenomenal. Peter drags himself out of the wobbly desk chair and shuffles over, dragging the same blanket he’d brought along with him in the first place. Toppling over onto his old mattress is easy; so is making an unintelligible noise of gratitude when Ben sets down a refilled plastic cup. And from there, Peter slowly... drifts... off.......

...only to lurch back upright in a panic, mere minutes later, because he addressed the notes to Friday.

FRIDAY, the AI who doesn’t exist yet. Instead of JARVIS, the one who does.

Several curse words drop from his mouth, as Peter scrambles to try and find his- his phone. Which he does not have yet. Because it was a Congrats On Starting High School present after he turned fourteen. Because of course.

Nothing for it, then. As miserable as he feels, Peter needs to get dressed, go after Ben, and swap out the incorrect post-it for a properly addressed one.

When asked, he will very much blame his current fever and illness to explain why he didn’t go out into the living room, and use the landline they still possess at this point in time to call his uncle and fix the error. But that’s later, and this is now, and Peter fumbles for his jeans and a mostly clean t-shirt.

---

Ben Parker would like to claim he isn’t a terribly gullible person. Nor a distrusting one, either. But this feels like a delicate balance between the two, as he takes the subway to cross from Queens over to Manhattan, and then walks a couple blocks to a particular nigh-infamous building. ‘Stark Tower’, ‘Avengers Tower’, either way, the gleaming structure easily attracts attention, even when you aren’t a rubber-necking tourist.

The sheaf of papers crinkles in his back pocket.

If Peter weren’t so sick, Ben probably wouldn’t be humoring him like this. Then again, if Peter weren’t sick, he’d more than likely have found a way to sneak off to Stark Tower himself to deliver the mysterious letter. Taking a deep breath, Ben steps through glass doors, and does his best not to hunch his shoulders or otherwise look nervous around so many people in business attire.

Even so, his thrift store outfit and old leather boots draw at least a few stares.

The young woman at the desk he goes up to at least smiles welcomingly, and Ben does his best to return the expression. “Hi there. This is going to sound weird, and I apologize in advance, but my kid’s sick and begged me to drop off a letter for him.”

“A letter for whom, sir?”

“Ah-” Ben pulls the folded papers from his pocket, miraculously managing to avoid losing the post-it note on top. “-Friday or Happy Hogan? He wrote down both their names, but I’m afraid I don’t know who either is.”

The woman’s face does something complicated when she sees the taped letter, but thankfully doesn’t laugh or scoff. “Well... Mister Hogan is Mister Stark’s head of security, but I’m afraid I haven’t heard of anyone named Friday who works here.” Something chimes on her computer screen, and she glances away to tap a quick reply.

Ben can’t help but blink. “Security? Huh. I would’ve figured a scientist or something...” Well, to be completely honest, he figured a feverish Peter would write directly to Tony Stark, considering how many Iron Man posters occupy the kid’s bedroom walls. But a security man just makes no sense at all.

“Pardon me, but what was your name, sir?”

“Parker. Ben Parker. Uh, like I said, I’m really just humoring my kid while he isn’t feeling well - I understand if you can’t actually get this to Mister Hogan-”

“On the contrary, sir,” a British voice says out of nowhere, making Ben jump. “I have already taken the liberty of summoning the appropriate individual to meet with you.”

He stares at the young woman, who looks startled but not nearly as confused. “That was Jarvis,” she quickly explains, “Mister Stark’s AI. Jarvis runs most of the building’s automatic functions, but- he doesn’t usually speak to guests without prompting.”

An uneasy feeling creeps up the back of Ben’s neck.

‘Jarvis’ doesn’t talk again, and the young woman directs him to wait by the end of the welcome desk for whoever’s coming down to meet him. It’s awkward, to be sure, especially as more people idly glance in his direction.

But then an elevator dings, and Ben turns, and shock overwrites literally everything else.

“Mister Parker?” Tony Stark asks, walking briskly towards him. Behind his glasses, the man’s eyes dart to either side of where Ben is standing, and they flicker slightly with something he would almost call disappointment. “Hi, welcome, sorry to startle you, but we’d better have this conversation in private. Jarvis said you’ve got a letter?” Wordlessly, Ben holds it up. Stark huffs, quickly plucking it from his fingers, but doesn’t bother to do anything besides tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Then he claps a hand on Ben’s shoulder, and steers him straight into the waiting elevator. “How’s Peter?”

The shock is still going strong. That’s the only explanation for why he blurts out the single word response, “Sick.”

Stark’s head snaps around. “Sick? With what? How bad is it?”

“Bronchitis,” Ben barely manages to say, most of his brain power currently occupied trying to reconcile the fact that Tony-Iron-Man-Stark apparently knows his nephew. “Not- not too bad, this time. How do you-?”

“J, you downloaded the kid’s medical files, right?” Stark asks the open air.

“Yes, Sir,” the same disembodied voice as early rings out. “This would be Peter Parker’s fourth bout with bronchitis in the past three years. Records indicate he is taking appropriately prescribed medication and has been home from school for the past two days.”

“Good, that’s good.” Still, Stark’s expression is twisted unpleasantly, and Ben can only stare in a sort of detached fascination. “Double check that our pharmaceuticals division doesn’t have anything better for him, J.”

“Of course, Sir. I also need to inform you that we have received confirmation from Prince T’Challa of Wakanda, and reassurance that his family is taking the necessary precautions.”

“About time Pink Panther got back to us. Anything from Fury and our super-duper wonder spies?”

“They have yet to emerge from the secondary conference room. Mister Barton’s only communication at this point has been to request another round of takeout and coffee, as it looks to be, and I quote, ‘a long-ass day on top of a long-ass night’, Sir.”

Stark snorts. “Got it. Approve whatever he and Nat want. Anyone in the lounge?”

“Negative.”

“Right, take us there, then.” Sighing, the celebrity finally turns to actually face Ben. For a long moment, he only stares. “It’s different, seeing you in person. Good different. Peter actually say anything about the letter?”

“...no,” Ben manages to answer. “No, and I don’t- no offense intended, Mister Stark, but what the hell is going on?”

“Tony, please.” A flash of genuine pain crosses Stark’s face, before he returns to the bland observing expression. “And none taken. I’ve had a lot of people ask me that question since two this morning.”

The unease returns, this time in Ben’s stomach. At 2am, he and May were woken up by Peter shouting in his room - a fever dream turned nightmare, or so they assumed.

He doesn’t particularly care for the coincidence.

“So tell me, Ben Parker: do you believe in time travel?”

---

Peter is so, so screwed.

He left the apartment without his key. Without his shoes. And the longer he attempts to keep shuffling down the city sidewalk only in his socks, overwhelmed by noises and smells and the bright sun overhead, the more it becomes abundantly clear:

He messed up.

Majorly messed up. On top of his other major screw-up, and the more he tries to squint at street signs without the glasses he also forgot at the apartment, the more his head pounds and his nose runs and his chest hurts.

Eventually it’s just- too much. Peter coughs weakly into his elbow, and scoots into the first alley he can find.

---

Once, not so long ago, Ben didn’t think aliens or superheroes existed outside of books and movies. Time travel isn’t that far a leap in comparison.

But the more Stark keeps talking, the less Ben takes in, overwhelmed by a couple of things the celebrity breezed over, which stand out all the more for his lack of emphasis. First and foremost: Tony Stark cares about Peter. Knows him. Likes him. Invites him on weekend visits to work on personal projects. Illegally hacks medical databases to double check that the boy is getting appropriate medication for his current illness. Ben might actually laugh if it weren’t for the second thing:

He’s going to die.

Stark doesn’t outright say that, of course, but he tip-toes around the fact that he knows Peter well enough to care about him, and he knows May well enough to be wary of lying to her, but today is the first time he’s ever laid eyes on a living, breathing Ben.

Peter is going to be a superhero. May is going to be a widow. Peter caused some kind of magical accident that sent the Avengers back in time three years. May is going to be a widow. Peter apparently wrote out four pages of notes about incoming disasters for nothing, because Stark and his teammates have been scrambling for the past ten hours to prevent all of it and more.

May is going to be a widow.

Eventually, Stark must realize Ben’s only absorbing every fourth sentence or so, because he abruptly finds himself pushed down into a sleek leather chair, glass tumbler in hand. He doesn’t bother to check exactly what kind of alcohol he’s been given; it burns going down, and that’s good enough to restore some clarity to his overwhelmed mind.

First thing’s first. “Peter has superpowers?”

“He will. Probably. We know when and how he gets them, at this point it’s just a matter of making sure he’s in the right place at the right time. If he still wants- I mean, I’ll be honest, I’d probably sleep a little better knowing the kid isn’t swinging around Queens stopping muggers in the middle of the night, but I also know there’s only a point oh two chance he’ll willingly avoid becoming Spider-man again.”

Ben nods, swallowing down his initial reaction to that word-vomit. “Okay. Okay- next question.”

“Shoot.”

“How do I die?”

Stark promptly winces. “...alright, poor choice of words on my part. Look, Ben- can I call you Ben?” He nods. “Thanks- look. I don’t know all the details, but Peter definitely will, and between the two of us I can guarantee you won’t this time. Hell, I’ll get you a nano-tech bulletproof vest if I have to, but we’re going to make damn sure you live to a ripe old age no matter how many burned casseroles May tries to fix for dinner. Alright?”

Something in the back of Ben’s mind whispers that it can’t possibly be that simple, but he’s willing to take the other man’s words at face value for the moment. “Alright.”

“Sir? Captains Wilson and Rogers have returned, with two guests.”

“Hot damn. Okay, Ben- just hang tight for a minute, I need to say hi to Ruby Tuesday and her delinquent brother, and then we’ll see about getting Peter up here, yeah?” Ben doesn’t have a chance to respond before Stark is up and moving, heading for the elevator just as it slides open.

Captain Rogers is apparently that Captain Rogers, and Ben’s eyes widen so much he half-wonders if they might actually fall out of his face.

Steve-Captain-America-Rogers steps out of the elevator, face tired but triumphant, dressed in civilian clothes rather than his iconic uniform. That’s definitely The Shield slung across his back, though.

Behind him comes another man, dark-skinned with short hair, rolling his eyes as he finishes saying something to the people behind him. Both young, on the thin side - the girl’s hair is long and dark, the boy’s shifting from a similar color to silvery-white in a way that doesn’t look like a dye job. He’s nervous; she’s relaxed. Stark approaches them with stiff shoulders and a careful smile.

“Tony,” the girl says warmly, and half the tension drops away from Stark’s frame.

“Wanda,” he replies, stopping short of arm’s reach. “You’re okay?”

“I will be. I have Pietro again.” She reaches out, and catches the boy’s hand where he meets her halfway. “Ultron?”

“Shut down for good. Never even got the chance to wake up and cause trouble.”

The girl lets out a low, shaky sigh, squeezing her eyes shut as she nods. “Good. That is- very good. Vision?”

“We’ve got him. Sort of- no body for him to land in like the rest of us, obviously, but Cho’s putting one together, and there’s a copy of his consciousness tucked in with Jarvis right now.”

“One moment please, Miss Maximoff,” the AI says. A moment later, what sounds like the exact same voice speaks again, but with a great deal more emotion. “Hello, Wanda.”

“Viz,” she replies, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “You are alright?”

“I am much better, now that you’re here.”

Well didn’t that sound adorably sappy. Some small sound must escape Ben’s mouth, because a moment later the girl, Wanda, is looking right at him with a frown. “Who is this?”

“Ben Parker,” Stark promptly answers, shifting in place to make a sweeping gesture. “Better known as Spider-man’s uncle. He came to drop off some notes from the kid, who apparently didn’t realize we all got swept back in time thanks to his stunt with the Mind and Time Stones. Speaking of whom- Jarvis, have we got eyes on Underoos yet?”

“Yes, Sir. But I am afraid Peter Parker is not in his Queens apartment.”

Like a storm blowing out a candle, Stark’s face turns immediately grim. “Beg pardon?”

“Facial recognition picked him up eight blocks from his home building, moving slowly. Approximately nine minutes and thirty-four seconds ago, he entered an alleyway without any available security cameras. To my knowledge he has not yet emerged.”

Ben couldn’t say when exactly he got to his feet, but he suddenly finds himself standing next to Stark, hands clenched to keep from shaking. The other man meets his panicked gaze, and a flicker of understanding passes between them. “Show us, J.”

A holographic screen pops up. Footage plays. Ben barely pays any attention to Captain America stepping closer, too focused on the little figure helpfully highlighted by Jarvis.

(Peter isn’t even wearing shoes.)

“What, did he feel the need for a Delmar sandwich?” Stark grumbles, before the image zooms in. It becomes abruptly clear that Peter isn’t feeling suddenly better - his face is tight with desperation, mouth open to breathe, and every few steps he pauses to lean against a wall, eyes screwed shut. Ben feels a vice grip squeeze his heart, especially when his nephew staggers between two buildings, disappearing with his head down, arms tucked in close.

“Yeah, he’s not doing so hot,” the other man beside Captain America states.

“Understatement of the year, Wilson. Alright, everything else is on pause, I need to go get him-”

“I am faster.”

They all turn to stare at the boy still standing halfway behind Wanda. Even she looks surprised. “Pietro?”

He shrugs, a small nonchalant twitch, belied by the concern in his eyes. “I am faster. Show me a map from here to there, and I can pick him up without attracting attention.”

Ben glances at Stark. The celebrity offers back a flat smile, face carefully blank. “I mean, he’s not wrong. Speedy Gonzales here could probably run to the other end of Long Island and back in a couple of minutes.” There’s a moment’s hesitation, and then- “Your call, Mister Parker. He’s- your kid. First and foremost.”

...after a long, painful moment, Ben turns back towards Pietro. “Please.”

---

It feels like his life is just one big mistake after another.

Arguing with his uncle, distracting him at exactly the wrong moment, and paying for it with a funeral. Ignoring Mister Stark’s orders, almost causing all those people on the ferry to die. Not pushing harder to get a message through to Happy, almost allowing the plane to be stolen.

Grabbing the first two Infinity Stones to go flying past his face, in a room full of aliens trying to steal them and Avengers trying to protect them. Peter can still feel the burning in his hands, like catching a pair of electrified cables except dialed up to eleven, and every time he tries to take a deep breath it just gets worse. Not even the spider bite had caused him to hurt this much.

Wind whistles, short and sharp. A train going by- or maybe just a single car? No, wait, that didn’t make any sense-

“You are Peter, yes?”

Slowly, agonizingly, he manages to peel one eye partly open, and squints at the guy crouching in front of him. Familiar, but- not in the way that meant Peter had seen him somewhere before. “Y-yeah?”

“I am Pietro Maximoff,” the guy says. “Tony Stark and your uncle are upset you left home.”

Ah.

Well. On the one hand, Ben clearly made it to the Tower. On the other, Peter’s probably going to be in a lot of trouble for this. On the third- on a metaphorical third hand, Peter hurts. He can’t even bring himself to say so to this guy, Pietro- Maximoff, does that mean he’s related to Wanda- and instead whines, hands pressing tighter against his head.

“I am going to take you to them,” Pietro goes on. Peter lets his eye squeeze shut again, and jerks his head in a short, shallow nod. Hands carefully drag him out from his hiding place between two dumpsters, and then he’s being picked up, cradled close like a much younger kid. Normally he’d protest, insist that he’s sixteen- or thirteen- but honestly, Peter can’t bring himself to care.

There’s a distinct lurch, and a thousand sounds bombard his ears, horns and voices and wheels turning and doors opening and it’s way WAY too much too many too soon-

-and he checks out.

---

Ben doesn’t quite stare at his watch the entire time Pietro’s gone, but it’s a near thing. Steve Rogers takes a moment to introduce himself, along with Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff, but thankfully none of the Avengers try to force any strained small talk. Stark barely makes a sound at all - he keeps on staring at the blue-tinted holographic screens, eyes glued to the replaying clip of Peter stumbling into that alleyway.

It’s a relief when Pietro blurs back into existence in front of them, Ben’s actual physical nephew held securely in his arms.

But only for a split second.

Because Peter looks awful.

In the time since Ben left their family’s apartment, his kid has somehow managed to slide from pale to almost ghostly white, tremors wracking his entire body. He doesn’t react to Ben or Stark calling his name, eyes screwed shut and fists pressed hard against both ears, breathes coming short and shallow.

“Jarvis, vitals,” Stark orders, gesturing for Pietro to set his burden down on the nearest sofa. Peter whines when the young man lets go, but Ben slides right in, one hand carding through his nephew’s hair while the other presses flat against his scrawny chest. He doesn’t pay attention to whatever the AI relates to Stark; there’s just Peter, and his ragged breathing, and his pounding heart.

“Okay, kiddo,” Ben murmurs, soft but hopefully loud enough for the kid to hear. “We can make it through this, and you’re going to get better, if only so I can ground you until you’re eighteen.”

Peter’s next breath comes out more like a huff than a gasp, and one corner of his mouth turns up, just slightly.

“Only eighteen?” Stark leans a little over Ben’s shoulder, not quite intruding though it’s pretty clear he’d like to. “I’d make it twenty-five, at least.”

“M- Mis’er S’ark-”

“Hey, kid. Fancy seeing you here, when you should be tucked up at home in a nice warm bed. What’s the idea, huh, giving me and your poor uncle a matching pair of heart attacks?”

Peter coughs weakly, eyes still closed. “Wrote- wrong. Fuh-friday, not- Jarvis.”

Ben sees Stark stiffen in the corner of his eye, and holds back a sigh. “Friday’s the name of another AI?”

“Back-up for Jarvis,” Stark mutters. “I would’ve switched to her in a few days, if we were still following the original timeline.”

That manages to make Peter’s face scrunch up with confusion. “-what?”

“We all came back in time, kid. Whatever the hell you did with those Stones, they picked up every Avenger plus a few bonus people and tossed our minds back to the good old days before we’d even heard of Thanos. Possibly those Guardian idiots too, but we haven’t been able to make contact with them yet.”

“Oh,” Peter croaks, finally cracking his eyes open. “Good?”

Rather than answer, Stark sucks in a startled breath, and Ben feels his stomach swoop unpleasantly. From the abrupt silence behind them, where the others had been murmuring amongst themselves, he figures everybody’s equally stunned.

Peter’s eyes are glowing.

The kid just stares upward for a moment, obviously aware something’s wrong. “...Mister Stark? I don’t- feel so good.”

To Be Continued...

#marvel #avengers infinity war #fix-it fic #peter parker #ben parker #tony stark #irondad's gonna have a hard time in this one #I haven't figured out the happy ending yet hence my cliffhanger there #but I'm sure Peter will be fiiine. Eventually.#wip

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