Tony: Holy shit Peter you’re bleeding!
Peter: Welp, that explains it.
Tony: EXPLAINS WHAT?!
Peter: The stabbing pain in my side.
Tony: *high key panicking*
i am kinda worried abt the new volume of iron man what if cantwell is just another dan slott and we see tony b like definitely not tony and hhh pls don’t b ugly please don’t be ugly
Thank you Hamburger Hill for providing us with actual footage of Rhodey’s first tour.
They immediately break up in the next run
They were a fun couple and them being together made Ultron mad so it was great.
I’m just slightly amused that one of the few things not snapped back to quo ends up undone by the next writer anyway.
It kind of tempers my frustration with the major snapback at the end of this book. And makes me more frustrated at the cancel and relaunch style at Marvel.
In my Avengers liveblog I’ve just gotten to the point where Roger Stern has to pick up Jim Shooter’s dangling plot threads and he does a good job! He finishes up the arc in a satisfying manner that makes it clear he familiarized himself with what had been happening.
It’s a lost art, I think.
Based on the AU where Iron Man’s identity is still secret, and he runs around blowing up (illegal) SI weaponry and/or trying to get evidence against Stane.
[Also on AO3]
Doesn’t matter how I make things clear
You say it’s my fault that we’ve ended up here
“The threat of the year”
Well, if that’s how you want it, I’ll be what you fear
Doesn’t matter what proof I show
You’ll only see what you think you know
So I’ll give it a go
If it’s pointless to fight it, I’ll go with the flow
Doesn’t matter how hard I try
The truth is a story you’ll never buy
I’m becoming your lie
How dare you stand there asking me why
Then let me be evil
Let me be what you think me to be
From now I’ll be evil
Regardless, it’s all that you’ll see
Let me be evil
I’ll be what you want me to be
So, fine, I’ll be evil
You created your own enemy
Prepare to rue the day you crossed me
…this cat is really cute guys
(And he was only at the shelter for a few weeks, but he already looks so much better than when we first caught him!)
Little heads-up: There’s swearing in this.
Peter fucked up.
“You’re not my father!”
Like, really fucked up.
“You’re not a superhero! How dare you tell me I’m nothing without my suit, when it’s really you who would be nothing without that armor!”
No one in the history of fucking up has ever fucked up as much as Peter.
“You said you’re done making war by selling your weapons, but you just traded one weapon for a different one! You’re not helping anyone!”
Peter deeply regrets saying any of those things, but he has been so incredibly angry when Tony scolded him for going after that drug ring he spent months working on, claiming that it’s too far out his neighborhood, ordering him to stop, threatening to tell May if he didn’t listen. And Peter snapped, feeling transported back all those months ago to the ferry and how Tony kept him out of what’s going on – and that thought hurt so, so much.
After all the time they spent together, Peter thought they would be past that particular I’m-not-telling-you-what’s-happening-and-keeping-you-out-of-the-loop stage. That hurt fueled the anger he felt over literally months of his efforts being thrown away, and he just wanted to hurt Tony back, to make him feel the same pain he was feeling in that moment, so he spit out the most hurtful words he could think of, not caring if they were actually true or not.
Tony’s face went completely blank, and he raised his head, standing tall and his shoulders pulled back, looking absolutely untouched by Peter’s words – which, of course, made him only angrier, causing him to spit out even nastier stuff.
When Peter was standing in the penthouse, breathing heavily with anger, Tony gave him a hard look and asked: “You done?” Peter clenched his teeth and fists together. Tony took that as a yes. “Go.” Without giving him a second look, Tony slipped his glasses on his face before turning around and walking down the hallway, not caring at all for Peter and his anger.
Since then, a few weeks have passed, and with every day that passed, Peter felt worse and worse about his angry outburst, his initial anger about the entire situation evaporating after a few hours. Less than 24 hours after Tony told him to drop his investigation in the drug ring, the news of the police arresting pretty much everyone of said drug ring were everywhere. Peter kinda thought Tony would demand the suit back, but he didn’t.
Instead, there’s absolute radio silence between them.
When it was the day of their usual lab sessions, Karen informed Peter that Tony canceled – not only that appointment, but every single one for the next two months. Peter isn’t getting random texts from Tony anymore, no reaction at all to any of the reports he sends him, and when Peter tries calling him, FRIDAY tells him that Tony is too busy to answer. Even though she promises to let her creator know that Peter called, Tony never calls back.
Peter goes as far as asking Happy about it. “He’s busy,” the man answers, obviously uncomfortable and very clearly lying about it. “He’s got a company to run and there are the amendments for the Accords and the entire Avengers Initiative. It’s a lot.” Tony had to do all of those things before, too, but he always made time to at least chat for a few minutes with Peter.
Which means Tony obviously doesn’t want to see him.
And that hurts a hundred times more than Tony telling him to not get involved with those drug dealers.
Peter knows he has to apologize. There’s no way around it, not if he wants to repair what he has broken. But the big problem is how he’s gonna do that, seeing as Tony clearly doesn’t want to talk to him. He asked Happy, Pepper, and Rhodey for their help, but that has been fruitless. FRIDAY fed him some lie (he wasn’t aware the AI could actually lie) about the next free slot being next year.
He actually thinks about making an official appointment with Tony, but there are several problems. For one, not just anyone can make an appointment with Tony Stark, especially without a good reason and on short notice. Besides, he needs to give his name and show his ID – Peter is pretty sure that FRIDAY would interject as soon as she sees his name. Or, like, his face in the lobby. There’s the option of using that hatch Tony built into the windows of Peter’s room in the penthouse (with a stab in his chest, Peter wonders if it’s still his room or if Tony already turned into, like, a home gym or something), but he’s pretty sure Tony wouldn’t appreciate him breaking in. Or FRIDAY would simply lock the hatch.
So, while he tries to come up with a way to get in contact with his (former?) mentor, he’s watching Tony’s Instagram story – a “spontaneous” Ask Me Anything game that has been scheduled months ago (which Tony only accepted because Peter talked him into it). More than a couple of times he’s tempted to send in an ask, but he’s pretty sure Tony wouldn’t answer that as well. While watching Tony laugh and smile at the camera, sitting in his lab with DUM-E and U next to him, a very familiar holo-screen with some mindless but important looking diagram in the background, Peter tries to sooth his aching heart and curses that it’s so difficult to get a hold of one of the smartest people in the world who doesn’t want to talk to you.
About a week later, there’s an opportunity, and Peter doesn’t hesitate a second to grab it.
He’s on his way back from school, when he sees the news alert on his phone – a hostage situation in Manhattan, and Iron Man just arrived at the scene. Never before has Peter changed into his suit that fast.
It takes him only a couple of minutes to arrive at the scene. It’s in an office building up on the highest floor, and as far as Karen told him, there are three hostage takers and about twelve hostages. The hostage takers blocked the exits and apparently hid a bomb somewhere.
Getting into the building is no problem – he simply swings through the hole in the window Tony crashed through when he arrived. Speaking of Tony, he doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to see Peter; FRIDAY probably warned him.
“Mr. Stark, I -”
“Get them out of here,” Tony orders, not even looking at him.
For the fraction of a second, he thinks about protesting, but getting the hostages out of dangers is the priority. Peter sticks to the outside of the building and sticks a web the them before telling them to jump one by one, breaking their fall in time for them to land safely on the sidewalk. He doesn’t allow himself to relax for a single second, because he hears gun shots going off from inside the building. Swinging back inside, he races towards the noises, seeing how the criminals keep firing bullets at the Iron Man armor, while Tony is calmly working on the bomb, seemingly absolutely unbothered by their attacks.
Well, Peter is pretty bothered by it.
He catches the first two by surprise, snatching away their guns and webbing them against the wall. When he turns towards the third one, he’s already staring at the gun, and a second later, Peter has to dodge a storm of bullets. Just when he manages to rip the gun away from the criminal, a sharp pain rips through Peter’s thigh, making him clench his teeth and driving tears in his eyes. Peter ignores the pain, pinning the man against the next wall.
Just then, Tony stands up. “The situation is clear,” he says, his back still turned to Peter.
Peter nods, before he remembers that Tony can’t see it. “Mr. Stark, can I-”
“Police should get up here any moment, you can go now,” he interrupts him, stomping over to one of the windows, already getting into the air.
Peter cannot let this opportunity slip through his fingers. “Please wait!” He hurries after Tony, ignoring the biting pain in his leg, but just when he arrives at the window, Tony flies out of it. “Please! I want to apologize!”
Tony isn’t stopping, so Peter doesn’t stop either. He jumps out of the window and manages to shoot a web against the Iron Man armor, literally sticking to him.
Tony slightly turns his head to him, as if to make sure that FRIDAY really is telling the truth when she said he has some stowaway. “Go home.”
“No! Not before I apologized!”
Clearly, Tony doesn’t want to hear it. He turns back around and flies in a zigzag line, trying to shake Peter off. But Peter is stubborn, he holds on as tight as he can. Then, his leg hits the wound on his other leg, and Peter can’t help but cry out as a wave of blinding pain shoots through him, almost making him let go of the web.
Suddenly, they slow down, and just when Peter’s head clears enough to notice his surroundings again, his feet touch solid ground. They landed on a rooftop, far above the rest of the city.
But he’s even more surprised that Tony is facing him. “You got shot?” the man asks, and his helmet folds away, showing the face Peter hasn’t seen in person for weeks, and even though there are those special angry wrinkles on Tony’s face that always mean he’s in trouble, Peter couldn’t be more relieved.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he starts, not wasting a single second with something as trivial as a gun shot wound. “Like, so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff, it’s not true at all, not a word of it, but I was so angry-”
“You’ve been shot,” Tony says in a voice Peter can’t quite place. “That wound needs to be treated asap.”
“I didn’t mean any of it, I swear, but I-” Peter takes a step forward, but in his haste to get closer to Tony, he forgot about the wound. As soon as he puts any pressure on the leg, a new wave of pain surges through his entire body, making him cry out again and before he knows it, he’s on the ground, face against the rough surface (that pain pales in comparison to the pain from his leg).
However, a pair of strong hands turn him around and he looks up into Tony’s face. “You need to see Helen,” he says, pressing a hand against the wound to stop the bleeding, his eyes turning apologetic as Peter hisses in pain.
“I’m so sorry,” Peter repeats again. His thoughts get muddled with pain and the need to fix the situation because he needs to fix this so bad. Suddenly feeling stuffed under his mask, he pushes it off, not afraid that someone sees his face this far up. Tears are rolling down his cheeks, but he can’t tell if they’re because of the pain or the panic inside him. “Please, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, any of it!”
“Peter, you need to focus on the wound, everything else can wait.”
“No, it can’t! I need you to know-”
“I forgive you, okay? Now, let’s get-”
“You’re my hero,” Peter interrupts him, not really liking how shaky his voice is right now but he has no control over it between all the pain, the blood loss, and the burning, life-consuming need to fix this. “You always have been, long before you became Iron Man. And-And you don’t need that armor, not at all, because you have your brain and that’s so much more worth than that armor. Your brain and your heart, because you do care so much. Like, I don’t think I ever saw anyone who wanted to help everyone as bad as you do, and you do it without caring about what it costs you, no matter if money or time or your life! Iron Man is- No, Tony Stark is the best superhero there is and there will ever be.”
Tony just stares at him, eyes full of something Peter doesn’t recognize. He gets more and more drowsy with each breath he takes, but he has to push through it – he’s not done yet. “You’re not my father, I know that, but-but you are so important to me, Mr. Stark. Like… Like you’re part of my family. And I hate myself for hurting you so much. I didn’t mean any of it and I was so stupid for saying all of that. Please, I didn’t mean it. Not at all.” Peter’s words turn into slurs, his tongue and eyelids growing heavy. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please…” His eyes fall shut and he can’t open them again.
There’s a hand cased in metal against his cheeks. “Kid? Kid, open your eyes!”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Peter, look at me. Hey! Shit. Peter!”
“Please…” Peter mumbles, Tony screaming his name turning into white noise as everything around him turns black.
Peter stepped into Stark Tower, covering his mouth as he yawned. Tony hadn’t been able to pick him up today because of a board meeting and was going to send Happy up, but Peter told him he wouldn’t mind walking to the tower.
Tony, always the overprotective dad, had insisted he walk instead of swing in broad daylight, where he would be an obvious red and blue target.
He’d grumbled about in their group chat with May, but he really didn’t mind. He liked to stroll through the crowds, his earbuds in, blasting his favorite playlist and blocking out any other noises.
Peter yawned once again, the air conditioner making him shiver. He strolled cheerfully towards the elevator, excited for his lab time and movie night with Mr. Stark.
He began to say, “FRI, penthouse, please,” when a loud voice interrupted him.
“Hey, you! Kid! Stop right there!”
Peter froze and turned around. Two security guards marched up to him. He had never seen them before, but Mr. Stark had mentioned something the other day about “new staff” and “better security,” so he assumed they were new.
“You’re not allowed to be here,” she said, her tall figure towering above him.
“B-but- I am, really! I’m an intern here, ask anyone!” He knew he sounded hysterically and completely unbelievable, but the sight of the two of the guards made his spidey sense bounce in his brain like an extra fast screensaver in an old tv. Probably because they had their hands on their tasers. Had the security guards always had tasers?
“Okay, kid, either you leave or we’ll make you,” said the shorter man.
“But-” he began.
Then a jolt of electricity ran through him. The guard shoved her taser back in its holster, and Peter fell to the ground, twitching violently. She bent and slung him over her shoulder. What he could glimpse of her face for a brief second, she was wearing a malicious grin.
His vision was blurry, his eyes burning, and he realized too late that there was no one else in the building with them. (Oh geez, where was everyone?)
These were not security guards.
Peter struggled weakly as he was carried to the doors, earning a slap to the cheek. His kidnappers peeked out to see if the coast was clear, then ran to a van parked in front of the doorway.
The teen was thrown unceremoniously in the back, now handcuffed, blinded and gagged, attached to a metal pole. He heard the van door lock, then the pair jumped in. Peter yanked against his cuffs and squirmed around, trying to escape before the van started.
It was no use. The engine rumbled and they pulled away from Stark Tower. He tried the cuffs again, using all his strength, but all it did was send a shooting pain up his wrists.
Where did they get vibranium? As far as Peter knew, that was the only thing that could hold him if he wasn’t weak or sedated. Usually his kidnappers used flimsy metal he could break in a split second. In fact, the only time he’d been locked in vibranium handcuffs was when he’d once been captured by-
Peter stopped trying to break the cuffs and moved to work on the metal he was tied to, which was a bit of a struggle with the blindfold. He was about to give it a hard push, when the van stopped suddenly and he was thrown against the back seat.
Peter struggled to blink away the stars in his eyes, wishing he could pull the blindfold off to see what was happening. He could hear tires screeching and cars smashing into another, along with the familiar humming and whirring of the Iron Man suit.
Something blasted through the window and the two Hydra agents cried out. The doors opened and he heard them getting out and yelling. Peter winced when their shouts were cut silent.
There was another repulsor blast, and a few seconds later the door was yanked open with such force it broke off.
Peter smiled through the filthy cloth in his mouth. His blindfold and gag were pulled off gently, and he opened his eyes to find Tony’s terrified face hovering in front of him.
“Pete- oh baby, are you okay?” he asked frantically. He cupped Peter’s face and kissed his forehead, feeling his head for bumps or blood. He felt along his ribs for breaks and then, satisfied he wasn’t hurt, pulled him into a bone crushing hug.
“Can’ breathe,” Peter wheezed. “M’sser Stark, can’ breathe!”
Tony’s arms loosened slightly, kissing the top of his head. “Sorry, bud, sorry. I’m sorry, honey. Are you okay? What did they do to you?” He pulled back to see Peter’s face. “Shit, did they hit you?!” He gently rubbed the red mark on his cheek. “Dammit.”
“I’m okay. Really, I promise. I’m fine,” Peter assured him. “But these handcuffs- um, they’re vibranium, I think, um…”
Tony blinked in surprise. “Do they know about Spider-Man?”
Peter shook his head. “N-no, I don’t think so.”
Tony sighed in relief and kissed his forehead. “Okay. Okay, honey, let’s get you out of these.” He engaged his gauntlet and hugged Peter, pulling him away from the pole. A thin, red laser cut through his chains, controlled by Tony’s steadily careful hand.
When he was free, the boy leaned forward and slumped against his strong chest, massaging his wrists. Tony gave a small gasp when he saw the red, bloody marks. “Oh, baby.” He rubbed the irritated skin of his wrist gently, then brought his hand up to his face and kissed the marks tenderly.
The boy leaned against him heavily, Tony’s worn, gentle hands combing through his hair. “Buddy, you can’t fall asleep just yet. We’ve gotta let Dr. Cho make sure you’re okay.”
Peter grumbled into his chest, rolling his eyes as Tony picked him up and carried him back into Stark Tower, telling FRIDAY to bring them up to the medbay where Dr. Cho would meet them. He protested vehemently to being carried into the medbay, but Tony didn’t let him down no matter how much he squirmed.
“You’ll need a straightjacket for him,” Tony advised as he lay Peter on the bed and sat next to him.
Cho snorted quietly, hurrying forward. She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm and placed her fingers on his wrist. “What happened?”
“Hydra happened,” Tony answered grimly. He shivered at the thought. His kid. His baby. Hydra. He pulled his kid close, squeezing him tight and pressing long kisses to the top of his head.
Peter blinked rapidly when Helen shined a light in his eye. Tony tenderly wiped away the tears brimming in his eyes from the bright light.
He could have been kidnapped, tortured, or worse-
No, don’t think of that. Don’t.
It wouldn’t happen, never, he wouldn’t allow it. It wasn’t possible.
Peter looked up at him, his big bambi eyes wide and innocent. “What’s wrong, Mr. Stark?”
“Nothing, bambino, it’s okay,” he murmured, caressing his cheek fondly. “I’m just glad you’re okay, sweetheart.”
“You’re right Tony, he’s doing great. A little bump on the head, and I’m going to put some ointment on his wrists just to make sure they heal up, but other than that he’s perfectly fine.”
Tony sighed in relief, and great weight lifting off his chest. In celebration he kissed Peter’s soft cheek and grinned, watching with an overprotective eye as Helen bandaged his wrists.
“Mr. Stark. I’m okay,” the teen insisted. “You don’t have to worry.”
“I’ll always be worried about you, baby.”
“That’s a fact…. Uh, can we watch Hocus Pocus?”
“Yeah, kiddie, of course we can.”
Taglist: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute
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My Incorrect Universe #55
Bruce: Repeat after me. I….
Bruce: Will get help for my depression.
Me: Will dye my hair.
Tony *across the Hall with his hair dyed a bright blue as he takes a swig of whiskey*: Same.
so obviously this was what was happening but still the way Jeremy Strong describes it is just
Hi Steve/Nat/Tony! How is managing the blog going?? You guys seem to be doing a great job so far, thanks for that!! We don’t actually know when we’ll be back, we’re having a great time here in the Maldives!!
-Maria, Phil and Nick
You guys certainly look like you’re having fun!! And Maria, dayummm you look HAWT! Nick looks so chill and laid back, and Phil looks like a celebrity, just like that Clarkk Gregg guy! Enjoy yourselves, and don’t worry about S.H.I.E.L.D, it’s in good hands :D
-Post by Natasha Romanoff
The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange
Rating: Not Rated
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, May Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & The Avengers, James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers, James “Rhodey” Rhodes & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Harley Keener, May Parker, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), The Avengers, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, James “Bucky” Barnes
Summary: Unbeknownst to Tony, Harley is bullying his kid.
Ao2 Link: Here
A/N: @iloveirondad Thank you so much for the prompt! It was so fun to write!
Peter couldn’t remember when he started referring to Tony as “Dad” in his head. But he could count on one hand the times he had actually called Tony that.
The first three times they had brushed it off, Peter blushing a dark red, Tony smiling into his palm and tears blooming in the corners of his eyes.
The fourth time, Peter lay in the medbay with a white bandage wrapped around his head and Mr. Stark clutching his hand tightly, and he had called him Dad. Tony had teared up (and began to cry) and said he would love it if Peter called him dad.
Peter had it all planned out. It was all he could think about the entire day, even in science when he was reprimanded for not paying attention. He’d jump into the car, grin, and say “Hi, Dad! Guess what score I got on the science quiz!”
He felt a warm rush every time he thought of it.
Peter rushed out of the school, shouting a quick goodbye to Ned. He flung the car door open. “Hi, D- oh. Happy? Umm, h-hi.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed, kid,” said the driver. Peter shut the passenger door, sighing, and opened the back door.
“Where’s Mr. Stark?” he asked.
Happy met his eyes in the mirror. “Boss is at the penthouse. He has somebody he wants you to meet.”
Well, that sure cleared things up, Peter thought. Was it a doctor? A therapist? A scientist? His evil clone?
When he arrived at the penthouse, he wasn’t met with an insane doctor trying to kill his mentor with a bludgeon, just Tony and a kid sitting at the kitchen island, drinking strong coffee.
A young man, he corrected himself. He was tall, far taller than Tony and much taller than Peter, with his hair wavy and styled with what must have been copious amounts of hair gel. He wore a red flannel shirt with sleeves he’d buttoned at the elbow, and ragged, torn up jeans with gray sneakers.
“Pete!” Tony exclaimed, jumping up to giving him a quick side hug and ruffling his hair. “Hey, buddy. How was school?”
“Fine. Who’s that?”
At his dreary response, Tony’s eyes glinted with worry. “This is Harley, kiddo. He’s staying here while he looks at colleges. And Harley, this is Peter.”
The young man, Harley, stepped forward, extending his hand. “Hey, Peter. Nice to finally meet you.”
Peter shook his hand and smiled, joining him at the kitchen island. “Nice to meet you too!”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Harley. “And I mean a lot.” He glanced towards Tony, who was bustling around, making hot chocolate and cider and getting snacks, oblivious. “It’s all he ever talks about. ‘Peter did this, Peter did that, guess what Peter’s doing right now.’” Harley rolled his eyes. “It gets pretty annoying, to be honest.”
“O-oh. Sorry?” Ouch.
“Eh. I can tolerate him,” he shrugged. Peter glanced down at the table, running his finger across the lines in the wood. They sat together, the only sounds coming from the clinking of a spoon against a pan as Tony made hot chocolate.
“So what are you?” Harley whispered suddenly, leaning forward. “His secret kid?”
He blinked. “No, no, um… I’m just his intern. Personal intern.” The lie sounded forced, even to him. He was Tony’s kid, biological or not.
“Right,” the young man said skeptically. Peter looked at the table awkwardly, before a plate of cookies was placed in front of him.
“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter grinned.
“Of course, bud.” Tony pulled up a stool next to him, and Peter felt a warm hand on his back. He grabbed a cookie (double chocolate-chip) and sipped his mug of hot chocolate.
“It’s September,” Harley said suddenly.
“Indeed it is,” Tony replied, not looking up from the plate of cookies, hand hovering above them while he tried to decide which one he would take.
“So why are you drinking hot chocolate?” He looked at Peter, frowning and perplexed, like Peter had performed some unspeakable offense.
He blushed and took a large drink from his mug. “It-it’s just cold out. Y’know.”
Plus, he couldn’t thermoregulate. Most days he would do anything to get warm. Besides stealing Tony and Ned’s sweatshirts, he could (and would) down ten cups of hot chocolate in a single sitting.
Tony immediately jumped to his defense, sensing Peter’s discomfort at Harley’s not-so-kind words. He stood up and poured another cup for himself, looking Harley directly in the eye. “Cheers.”
Tony hid his smile behind the mug when Harley looked at him like You too?
“So, Tony, what have you been doing?” asked Harley. “I haven’t heard much about you, just Peter.”
The older man chuckled, twisting spaghetti between his fork and spoon. “Superhero duties keep me pretty busy, kid. Not much else to talk about.”
Harley scoffed. “Yeah, right. All those ‘superhero duties,’ and you have the time to… you can spend time with your personal intern?” He gestured to Peter.
Peter knew without looking that there was a tension in Tony’s shoulders, knew that every single instinct in him was screaming ‘protect Peter.’
I don’t need protecting.
But before Peter could say anything, Tony spoke up. “Maybe you can tell us?” he joked, keeping his tone light. “You seem pretty interested in my personal life.”
Harley pursed his lips and frowned. “I was just curious.”
Tony nodded but stayed silent, though he reached out to pat Peter’s back gently. Harley did seem oddly fascinated with Tony’s personal life and his relationship with Peter.
But who would blame him for being curious?
“Maybe that’s enough about me,” Tony said, trying to keep the air light. “Harley, how have you been?”
The other man snorted. “Boring. My sis just started high school, Mom got a new job, and I have a month till graduation.”
“That’s so cool!” Peter exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “What college do you wanna go to?”
“Anywhere away from Tennessee. Can’t wait to get out of that shit-hole.”
“Watch your language, there’s a kid.” Tony was only half-teasing. He covered Peter’s ears. “You may proceed, young sir.”
Peter shook Tony’s hands off his ears, though he could still hear perfectly fine. “I’ve always wanted to go to MIT! Do you think you might go there?”
“I told ya, kid, anywhere away from my house.”
Peter held back a gasp as thunder and rain pounded in his ears. Ow ow ow.
His attempts were useless, however, as Harley snorted and rolled his eyes, “Aww, you scared?”
Peter frowned at Harley’s sudden change in mood. “N-no.” He winced, both at the thunder and the way his voice cracked. “No. I’m not scared.”
It just hurts.
Peter listened carefully for Tony’s heartbeat, hoping the man would come to calm his nerves, but the storm had completely drowned him out. Even with his super-hearing he could only hear the pounding rain.
Tony had been dragged to a meeting by Pepper, who claimed his presence was absolutely necessary. He had hoped Peter and Harley could spend some “bonding time” together, but that wasn’t going too well.
It wasn’t going well at all.
Peter would give anything for Mr. Stark to realize that he needed him.
“Christ, what are you, a baby?” Harley snapped as Peter flinched. “Does Tony have to deal with this shit?”
Peter hid his face in his knees. You’re stronger than this. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. He squeezed his eyes shut, but one pearly tear slipped out.
Tony had seen him cry, more times to count, and always he was soft and gentle and kissed his temple, and wouldn’t let go of Peter.
“You crying, sweetheart?” Harley mocked, his voice high pitched and false. “Shit, you’re such a disappointment.”
Stop it stop it stop it. Harley’s words tore at his heart. Stop talking.
“Actual question, though,” he smirked. “Does Tony even care? It has to be a charity event, right?”
Tears leaked from Peter’s eyes. “No.”
Tony loved him, and had told him countless times how much. Tony loved him more than anything.
But Harley’s words drummed into his mind. He couldn’t help the tiny, almost unnoticeable sliver of doubt creep into his head.
Tony loved him.
“Lemme break it to you Parker.” Suddenly Harley’s hand was squeezing his shoulder almost unbearably tight. “He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. Trust me, it’s for publicity, and I know it. I know him.”
Tony would never, ever lie to him.
“Don’t touch me,” Peter whispered weakly. “You’re lying.”
“I’m doing you a favor, Parker you know that? You’re just a naïve little kid.” He squeezed his shoulder again. Peter was sure he had finger-print shaped bruises forming on his skin. “You don’t know anything.”
No no no Tony-
With that, Harley flopped back on the couch, winking maliciously at the other boy, and turning on the tv. Peter buried his head between his knees, trying to hide himself in the cushions.
Tony loved him. Peter was going to call him Dad.
“Hey, bud, what’s up?”
Peter jumped when Mr. Stark’s figure suddenly appeared in the doorway. Though he glanced down the moment Tony’s eyes met his, he could see the flash of worry and parental panic on his face at his tears.
“Hey, hey, oh no,” Tony murmured, rushing to his side. He squeezed next to him in the armchair and cupped his cheek with warm, gentle fingers, wiping his tears away. “No, honey, what’s wrong? Shh. Are you hurt? Do you feel bad?”
Peter shook his head frantically, not wanting to cause anymore heat between Harley and himself. Tony smiled warmly, though his eyes were worried and he was desperate to help his kid. “Really, bud? ‘Cause it sure doesn’t look like that.”
He glanced nervously at Harley, who sent him a warning glare.
Tony sighed. Peter held back a gasp when he turned to Harley. “Kid, do you know what happened?”
The young man stood, faux worry crossing his face. “No. I have no idea. Is he okay?”
Another sigh rustled Peter’s curls. He blinked back tears, sensing how distraught Tony would be seeing him cry.
He slipped out of his hold and ran.
Tony’s day, which had been going surprisingly well, upended the moment he got an alert from his AI.
The alert filled the screen of his phone when he picked it up, not that he wouldn’t have noticed anything that read ‘Peter’s emotional distress rate at 7/10 and rising.’
Of course, how could he have been so stupid? Peter’s senses must have been going insane while the storm pounded outside. Tony ran for the door, his chair falling back in the process.
Ignoring the exclamations of the old geezers behind him (“Stark, where do you think you’re going?”) he rushed up the stairs, knowing the elevator would take far too long.
“Hey, bud, what’s up?” he asked, attempting to hide his concern as he glanced at his kid, who was curled in an armchair with his head between his knees.
When Peter looked up, Tony had just enough time to see his red eyes and the shiny tear tracks on his face.
“Hey, hey, oh no,” he cooed, hugging Peter tightly with one hand and wiping his tears away with the other. “No, honey, what’s wrong? Shh. Are you hurt? Do you feel bad?”
Tony’s worry was only slightly assuaged when Peter shook his head, because it was obvious his kid wasn’t okay.
“Really, bud? ‘Cause it sure doesn’t look like that.” Please, baby, tell me what’s wrong.
Tony sighed. Oh, buddy. Hoping to retrieve some information to why his kid was so riled up, because sensory overloads always left him clinging to Tony, not shying away.
Something must have happened, and it terrified him.
“Kid, do you know what happened?”
“No. I have no idea. Is he okay?” Harley stood up, biting his lip and looking worried.
He glanced back to the boy, and was shocked when he flinched, and then broke from his hold and ran.
“Peter!” Tony jumped up to follow his kid.
“Pete, open the door, please,” he begged, knocking on the wood. “Let me help you, buddy, c’mon. Please.”
He tested the doorknob and was surprised to find it wasn’t locked. “Petey, I’m gonna come in, just to check on you, okay?”
The door swung open and Tony stepped inside and-
The room was empty.
The window was wide open, curtains whipping back and forth in the wind, raindrops falling on the window sill.
He dashed to the window and leaned out, shielding his eyes from the rain. “Peter?!” He squinted, desperately trying to find the form of his precious spider-kid.
“Already on it, boss,” said the AI. “Tracking Peter.”
Tony barely noticed when the suit formed around him, too distracted by FRIDAY’s voice.
“Boss, I am unable to find Peter’s location.”
“Try again, call him,” he ordered, blasting straight through the window, glass shattering around him.
The phone rang.
“Boss, he didn’t answer-”
“Try again.” He searched the tops of the buildings and the alleyways frantically, his suit focusing on every heat signature and determining it wasn’t his kid.
Please, please, please be okay, Peter
The call rang. Peter didn’t pick up.
I’m coming Petey, I’ll find you
A small figure with a bright blue hoodie.